Lo Tsen’s Microscopic Creations
by Liao Hsin-Tien (Columnist for Artist Magazine “Wild Theater of Art”), 2023
On a blank sheet of paper, the first line was drawn. From that moment, Tai Chi split into the divided forces of Yin and Yang, giving rise to space and form. The touch of the paper was the birth of artistic life, the unfolding of artistic action, much like the first instant a child grips a pen, inadvertently creating dots and lines across a plane. The beginning of a line is a dot, and connected lines form shapes, revealing the universe and all its manifestations before our eyes. Is this not an alternative form of Automatism? It turns out that paintings may also exhibit this kind of expression, inherent in creation and waiting to burst forth, which is far more authentic and explosive than what surrealist André Breton claimed as "pure psychic automatism" in 1919.
Imagine galloping along, feeling the wings of rhythm in your hands. All will be destined within a single brushstroke, just as Sun Guo-Ting enlightened us on the secrets of lines in A Narrative on Calligraphy, "A dot forms a rule for a character, and a character becomes the standard for the complete work." Indeed, the beginning is always important, but there is no need to be so cautious, dithering hesitantly and unable to move forward with each brushstroke as if life and death depend on it. If the start is not a carefully thought out but rather simply a tentative step, then why not continue forward? For is there really anything that actually comes from a meticulous plan? When there is a will, there is a way, and, as we often hear, life will find its path. This is also true to the life of art, which will eventually find its unique way to a distinctive style. By going with the flow, navigating circumstances to one’s advantage, working with the resources at hand, and unleashing creative energy effortlessly, could it not also be a gr-“art”-ifying journey of life? After all, art is the spontaneous personal expedition of the creator, demonstrating the intimate collaborations of the hands, heart, and spirit.
Undoubtedly, drawing by hand is an inborn instinct, and the squirms of every second are both struggles and a display. Is there a need for images? Not necessarily, as when lines divide space, the space will in turn shape the form, all of which occurs naturally in self-generation. As for substance? It is definitely possible, as the layering of brushstrokes that developed the “textured technique” is the foundation to the skies and earth of landscape paintings, used not only for supporting forms and demonstrating the physicality of objects in painting, but also to create, traversing and weaving the visible and invisible field of vision. Following the prowling eyes, one may wander freely amongst the highs and lows, the concave and convex, as well as the ups and downs. Tension, both sinking and rising, expanding and contracting, as well as flinging in opposite directions, create an opposing resistance that could bring about a storming blizzard. The interweaving of lines is unevenly distributed, yet it is incredibly balanced, like flocks of birds in the sky dispersing and gathering, making the rays of sun flicker in and out. The scattered ones loosen and crumple, while the gathered flocks tighten and strengthen. From each intertwined rhythm filled with flexibility and elasticity flows music, free, smooth, and unrestrained. Besides the spectacle on the surface, there are layers seeping through with richness, their delicate textures captivating and unforgettably appealing. Or, like a person walking on a tightrope, chatting, laughing, and thriving in danger, forming a truly awe-inspiring scene. Or, like water, which is the beloved of Laozi, used to describe the highest virtue, transparent and formless, yet omnipresent and leaves no trace. It is the highest form of texture that "benefits all yet takes no credit." If art is water, then creation is the flow of water. Water is like the hushed silence of an unmarried maiden and the agility of a rabbit, gliding between movement and stillness, so intangible and ubiquitous. We feel the healing presence of water, clinging, supporting, enveloping, and gently caressing..., as its powers hide within the gentleness. Whether a flurry of birds, a tightrope performance, or the flow of water, everything lies in the integration of the intangible into the tangible, and the transformation of the tangible into the intangible. The synergy of the virtual and the reality, as well as the harmonizing of strength and flexibility, give rise to such wondrous creations.
Lo Tsen's artworks carry a peculiar dynamic message, triggering various visual associations. It could be the intertwined curves of the body (arousing sensuality), the interweaving ridges of the earth (shaping the world), the floating movements within the interwoven silks (rhythmic pulses), or the internal intersections within, akin to the visualization of muscle fibers through an endoscope (structural perspective). It could resemble the interlaced textures of wood (temporal formation), the manifestation of symbols from the pure depths of the soul (the reflection of emotions), the scars or burnt marks on the body (recording pain), or the lurking shadows, poised and raring for action (the manifestation of apparitions) .... These go beyond pure imagination, as they utilize the guidance of dots, lines, and shapes within visual compositions to engage in random contemplations, revealing profound internal dialogues throughout. When the retina absorbs these messages and translates them into visual actions, the search, exploration, experimentation, and bewilderment begin, forming narratives and plots. Her artistic approach, in my opinion, involves gentle guidance rather than explicit instructions, allowing viewers' imaginations to naturally flourish and become co-creators of the story, providing a heightened sense of involvement. In A Treatise on Painting, Leonardo da Vinci believed that this is the original creative nature of art, stating that "one should observe damp walls or unevenly colored stones. Should one wish to invent some scenes, one should be able to discover these extraordinary landscapes..., these walls are like bells that, when struck, can be imagined as various texts." The Master of Art further explained that the viewers’ mental states could quickly enter "a state of novel invention" through these perplexing shapes. It seems that facing a confusion of images is a good thing, as it can stimulate further imagination and transcendence. Both Oriental and Occidental artistic traditions share a similar approach. Song Di, the author of The Eight Sceneries of the Xiao-Xiang River, advocated for the depiction of "decaying walls" to achieve a "dynamic brushstroke." He believed in the concept of "the divine-guided creation... that randomly dictates the brush through soundless celestial connections, where natural sceneries are formed by a heavenly power, with little resemblance to anything man-made." Yang Hui-Zhi, a renowned Chinese sculptor usually mentioned in chorus with Wu Dao-Zi, proposed the "shadow wall" theory, which uses random forms to slowly develop aesthetic experiences. Inspirations derived from organic forms in art have long been discussed, and modern art critiques continue to explore the continuity of formalism and abstract spirituality. From the perspective of art history, Lo Tsen's artworks are indeed of "the significant form," detached from representational depictions and narrative contexts. They are not merely mechanical interactions between forms, but rather the exploration of psychological forms, establishing a distinctive style of her own.
As seen in the following critique of Lo Tsen’s solo exhibition in 1980, she has always been “skilled at interlayering bright colors and prominent figures on an open, abstract, and geometric background, exhibiting her personal inner world.” Until now, it seems that she is still dedicated to this path, traveling alone on the road not taken yet never getting tired of it, becoming the embodiment of a truly persistent creator. In this exhibition, her artworks not only maintain the usual melancholic and apprehensive tones, but also demonstrate a higher tension in the composition of images and the hypnotic details. As we lay our eyes upon the artworks, it feels like being trapped in an inescapable whirlpool and being carried away by the currents. The development of post-war Taiwanese abstract art demonstrated influences from West, with structures and mental images, as well as coldness and warmth, each playing their own skilled roles. In my opinion, Lo Tsen is outstanding in the realm of mental image abstraction, expressing her unique feminine style through microscopically delicate forms. Her paintings highlight the introspective, profound, soft, and delicate qualities of women, which I refer to as "microscopic creations." It does not correspond to cultural identity (such as "Oriental" abstractions) or international trends (such as Op Art or Hard-Edge) in a grand narrative sense, but rather to the landscapes of the subconscious, observing and capturing the changes in emotions and momentums from a close perspective. It is as if after seeking through countless places, to suddenly find what you had always been looking for just as you stopped searching. Perhaps her life of travels has led her to seek a place of inner peace and purpose? When there is no external First Nature to rely on, the truest place to take refuge for the soul is always within.
When was the last time we remembered feeling this introspective visual energy? Amidst the clamor of contemporary art in Taiwan, particularly the impact of popular culture and new media, Lo Tsen's creations resemble the clear echoes in a serene valley, leaving a profound imprint like still waters that run deep.
by Liao Hsin-Tien (Columnist for Artist Magazine “Wild Theater of Art”), 2023
On a blank sheet of paper, the first line was drawn. From that moment, Tai Chi split into the divided forces of Yin and Yang, giving rise to space and form. The touch of the paper was the birth of artistic life, the unfolding of artistic action, much like the first instant a child grips a pen, inadvertently creating dots and lines across a plane. The beginning of a line is a dot, and connected lines form shapes, revealing the universe and all its manifestations before our eyes. Is this not an alternative form of Automatism? It turns out that paintings may also exhibit this kind of expression, inherent in creation and waiting to burst forth, which is far more authentic and explosive than what surrealist André Breton claimed as "pure psychic automatism" in 1919.
Imagine galloping along, feeling the wings of rhythm in your hands. All will be destined within a single brushstroke, just as Sun Guo-Ting enlightened us on the secrets of lines in A Narrative on Calligraphy, "A dot forms a rule for a character, and a character becomes the standard for the complete work." Indeed, the beginning is always important, but there is no need to be so cautious, dithering hesitantly and unable to move forward with each brushstroke as if life and death depend on it. If the start is not a carefully thought out but rather simply a tentative step, then why not continue forward? For is there really anything that actually comes from a meticulous plan? When there is a will, there is a way, and, as we often hear, life will find its path. This is also true to the life of art, which will eventually find its unique way to a distinctive style. By going with the flow, navigating circumstances to one’s advantage, working with the resources at hand, and unleashing creative energy effortlessly, could it not also be a gr-“art”-ifying journey of life? After all, art is the spontaneous personal expedition of the creator, demonstrating the intimate collaborations of the hands, heart, and spirit.
Undoubtedly, drawing by hand is an inborn instinct, and the squirms of every second are both struggles and a display. Is there a need for images? Not necessarily, as when lines divide space, the space will in turn shape the form, all of which occurs naturally in self-generation. As for substance? It is definitely possible, as the layering of brushstrokes that developed the “textured technique” is the foundation to the skies and earth of landscape paintings, used not only for supporting forms and demonstrating the physicality of objects in painting, but also to create, traversing and weaving the visible and invisible field of vision. Following the prowling eyes, one may wander freely amongst the highs and lows, the concave and convex, as well as the ups and downs. Tension, both sinking and rising, expanding and contracting, as well as flinging in opposite directions, create an opposing resistance that could bring about a storming blizzard. The interweaving of lines is unevenly distributed, yet it is incredibly balanced, like flocks of birds in the sky dispersing and gathering, making the rays of sun flicker in and out. The scattered ones loosen and crumple, while the gathered flocks tighten and strengthen. From each intertwined rhythm filled with flexibility and elasticity flows music, free, smooth, and unrestrained. Besides the spectacle on the surface, there are layers seeping through with richness, their delicate textures captivating and unforgettably appealing. Or, like a person walking on a tightrope, chatting, laughing, and thriving in danger, forming a truly awe-inspiring scene. Or, like water, which is the beloved of Laozi, used to describe the highest virtue, transparent and formless, yet omnipresent and leaves no trace. It is the highest form of texture that "benefits all yet takes no credit." If art is water, then creation is the flow of water. Water is like the hushed silence of an unmarried maiden and the agility of a rabbit, gliding between movement and stillness, so intangible and ubiquitous. We feel the healing presence of water, clinging, supporting, enveloping, and gently caressing..., as its powers hide within the gentleness. Whether a flurry of birds, a tightrope performance, or the flow of water, everything lies in the integration of the intangible into the tangible, and the transformation of the tangible into the intangible. The synergy of the virtual and the reality, as well as the harmonizing of strength and flexibility, give rise to such wondrous creations.
Lo Tsen's artworks carry a peculiar dynamic message, triggering various visual associations. It could be the intertwined curves of the body (arousing sensuality), the interweaving ridges of the earth (shaping the world), the floating movements within the interwoven silks (rhythmic pulses), or the internal intersections within, akin to the visualization of muscle fibers through an endoscope (structural perspective). It could resemble the interlaced textures of wood (temporal formation), the manifestation of symbols from the pure depths of the soul (the reflection of emotions), the scars or burnt marks on the body (recording pain), or the lurking shadows, poised and raring for action (the manifestation of apparitions) .... These go beyond pure imagination, as they utilize the guidance of dots, lines, and shapes within visual compositions to engage in random contemplations, revealing profound internal dialogues throughout. When the retina absorbs these messages and translates them into visual actions, the search, exploration, experimentation, and bewilderment begin, forming narratives and plots. Her artistic approach, in my opinion, involves gentle guidance rather than explicit instructions, allowing viewers' imaginations to naturally flourish and become co-creators of the story, providing a heightened sense of involvement. In A Treatise on Painting, Leonardo da Vinci believed that this is the original creative nature of art, stating that "one should observe damp walls or unevenly colored stones. Should one wish to invent some scenes, one should be able to discover these extraordinary landscapes..., these walls are like bells that, when struck, can be imagined as various texts." The Master of Art further explained that the viewers’ mental states could quickly enter "a state of novel invention" through these perplexing shapes. It seems that facing a confusion of images is a good thing, as it can stimulate further imagination and transcendence. Both Oriental and Occidental artistic traditions share a similar approach. Song Di, the author of The Eight Sceneries of the Xiao-Xiang River, advocated for the depiction of "decaying walls" to achieve a "dynamic brushstroke." He believed in the concept of "the divine-guided creation... that randomly dictates the brush through soundless celestial connections, where natural sceneries are formed by a heavenly power, with little resemblance to anything man-made." Yang Hui-Zhi, a renowned Chinese sculptor usually mentioned in chorus with Wu Dao-Zi, proposed the "shadow wall" theory, which uses random forms to slowly develop aesthetic experiences. Inspirations derived from organic forms in art have long been discussed, and modern art critiques continue to explore the continuity of formalism and abstract spirituality. From the perspective of art history, Lo Tsen's artworks are indeed of "the significant form," detached from representational depictions and narrative contexts. They are not merely mechanical interactions between forms, but rather the exploration of psychological forms, establishing a distinctive style of her own.
As seen in the following critique of Lo Tsen’s solo exhibition in 1980, she has always been “skilled at interlayering bright colors and prominent figures on an open, abstract, and geometric background, exhibiting her personal inner world.” Until now, it seems that she is still dedicated to this path, traveling alone on the road not taken yet never getting tired of it, becoming the embodiment of a truly persistent creator. In this exhibition, her artworks not only maintain the usual melancholic and apprehensive tones, but also demonstrate a higher tension in the composition of images and the hypnotic details. As we lay our eyes upon the artworks, it feels like being trapped in an inescapable whirlpool and being carried away by the currents. The development of post-war Taiwanese abstract art demonstrated influences from West, with structures and mental images, as well as coldness and warmth, each playing their own skilled roles. In my opinion, Lo Tsen is outstanding in the realm of mental image abstraction, expressing her unique feminine style through microscopically delicate forms. Her paintings highlight the introspective, profound, soft, and delicate qualities of women, which I refer to as "microscopic creations." It does not correspond to cultural identity (such as "Oriental" abstractions) or international trends (such as Op Art or Hard-Edge) in a grand narrative sense, but rather to the landscapes of the subconscious, observing and capturing the changes in emotions and momentums from a close perspective. It is as if after seeking through countless places, to suddenly find what you had always been looking for just as you stopped searching. Perhaps her life of travels has led her to seek a place of inner peace and purpose? When there is no external First Nature to rely on, the truest place to take refuge for the soul is always within.
When was the last time we remembered feeling this introspective visual energy? Amidst the clamor of contemporary art in Taiwan, particularly the impact of popular culture and new media, Lo Tsen's creations resemble the clear echoes in a serene valley, leaving a profound imprint like still waters that run deep.