2025 Ping-En Kuo Solo Exhibition  : John’s Lemon

By: Ho-Ya Huang

In the foreword of *The Theory of Clouds*, I once came across this phrase: “Painting is like a canvas woven in hell, a fleeting and somewhat insignificant thing. If we were to strip away the thin layer of oil on the canvas, no one would care for it anymore.” This line, from Jacob’s *Letter to Benedetto Varchi*, came to mind as I viewed Bing-En Kuo’s works. I believe his art seeks to “strip away the thin layer of oil on the canvas,” preserving the essence of memory in a way that captivates the viewer.

Hence, I aim to approach this essay in the manner of “stripping away the thin layer of oil” to uncover “John within the lemon.” The first question that arises is, “Which layer of oil should be removed?” In works such as *Sexy Beetle Sexy Car*, *Morning But 1:14pm*, *Digging*, and *Beyek 4*, traces of what appear to be melted oil marks can be seen. These marks, present in nearly every piece, could be regarded as a distinctive symbol of Kuo’s style. I interpret this symbol as a “veil.” This “veil” lightly drapes over the artwork, with a texture akin to a summer petal floating on a river’s surface, leaving a trace of coolness when brushed by fingertips. Lifting the veil gently, like unfolding cicada wings, reveals impressions etched in the mind.

In particular, *Sexy Beetle Sexy Car* and *Morning But 1:14pm* showcase vibrant clusters of flowers at the bottom of the canvas. These evoke an idyllic paradise hidden beneath the veil, blending reality and Kuo’s impressions. This may explain why he employs “melted oil marks” as an interface between the two realms.

After removing the “veil” layer, the element of “archaeology” emerges as noteworthy. Let us consider *Digging* and *Archeology* together: the former emphasizes a dynamic process, while the latter references the academic discipline. In *Digging*, a human skull hovers above, tenuously connected to objects below by faint threads. This reminds me of the oracle bone script for “俘” (captive), which depicts a hand holding a child, symbolizing prisoners during wartime. Similarly, Kuo’s composition separates the upper and lower spaces, suggesting that the act of archaeological excavation metaphorically involves lifting human skulls and imprisoning their souls. The stark black hue of the skulls, contrasting with their natural white, compels viewers to reconsider their perceptions.

A similar “defiance of norms” (a concept borrowed from Qian Zhongshu’s *Limited Views*) appears in *Archeology*. As an academic field, archaeology prioritizes accuracy and truth. Yet, in Kuo’s brushwork, archaeological illustration resembles “mapping memory,” simplifying butterfly forms while omitting intricate details. The human skulls aligned below the canvas appear drawn with mere intuition. Both *Digging* and *Archeology* reflect Kuo’s observations of “the ordinary,” presenting results that challenge conventional perspectives.

Finally, after stripping away these layers, we arrive at the ethereal *Garden* series. Allow me to clarify: the metaphorical “stripping away” mentioned throughout this essay does not refer to Kuo’s actual creative process but rather my personal mode of viewing. The *Garden* series resembles an unadorned beauty beneath the veil, devoid of elaborate adornments or embroidered fabrics. The simplicity of the canvases, with their translucent whites and serene postures, invites viewers to lose themselves in the garden’s allure. This series, in my view, is the most compelling, embodying the purest form of Kuo’s impressions.

Notably, *Garden 2*, *Garden 5*, and *Garden 9* include recurring motifs of “shoes.” In traditional Chinese architecture, gardens are often located at the farthest end of a courtyard. If the “garden” symbolizes the final layer of Kuo’s impressions, then these “shoes” may represent the fleeting footsteps of visitors, each leaving an imprint in the depths of memory. Light as they seem, these imprints weigh heavily on the observer’s recollection.

As layer upon layer of oil is stripped away, what remains is not bold strokes of color but the impressions Kuo strives to preserve—fine granules of memory sifted through and left to settle on the canvas. These fragments exist fervently and poignantly. Finally, I propose the title “John within the Lemon” as an intertextual response to Kuo’s work. Like a petal-veiled “veil” dissolving under summer heat, revealing the disarray of the “ordinary,” and once again delicately “calling” to the viewer, this captures the essence of memory that *John’s Lemon* seeks to unveil.