Art & Critique » I-Ming

I-Ming: Comics and Illustrations

elijah — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 17:29:32 +0000

Lets take a look at some of Ming’s black and white illustrations and comic strips. That’s where his humor and feather light touch (the side that I have not given due attention in previous posts) find a space to breathe and attest the artist’s funny bone, which may have receded in the larger pieces. These works, minimalistic by generic constraints, savour of all the pungency of the artist’s salt — just like chamber music, where there is more silence to fill, may sharpen and focus more clearly the peculiarities of the composer’s style (which may become obfuscated in symphonies) — the spacious, usually expressing a single idea comics speak for the artist tersely and to the point.

The artist often goes for the classic device of juxtaposing proportions: placing the Gargantuan near the Lilliputian, he is bound to touch the viewer’s comic chord; sympathy and controlled, moderate awe add a harmony that is just short of soothing, keeping the viewer alert and interested. Other comics rediscover the laughable in everyday situations. They treat the ridiculous with such well feigned earnestness as to disorientate and further rouse the curiosity of the reader; constant interplay between the literal and figurative re-echoes in actual and potential visual puns. Progressing from one frame to the next one becomes a challenging and engaging experience.

What appeals to me in particular in this medium is the role of the text — I see it as an old friend making a cameo appearance. Because Ming’s comics contain so much neutral space, the few lines that express the protagonist’s thoughts or the artist’s commentary (and sometime it is difficult to distinguish between the two) have the visual expanse to reverberate and seep into the reader’s mind. Additionally, they provide an inside glance into the artist’s verbal way of thinking, which for some may be the more accessible one. I almost compulsively start guessing what would he say about his paintings, to elucidate or reinterpret the title.

Comics comprise a perfect correlation of a visual form with a literary accompaniment, and I suppose that explains their popularity at least partially. Although, I’ve always considered the signature as more than just a relevant textual reference to the artist’s persona; it reaffirms the artistic intent, and, as an introduced written injection in any visual piece, alludes to literature and “acknowledges” the outside world in general. And Ming’s ubiquitous signature does just that: besides the obvious aim of declaring the art maker, it acts as a reality check, reminding of the existence beyond the thick, black frame — dispatching us there equipped with a big smile.

I-Ming: Impressionist Paintings

elijah — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 20:10:47 +0000

Ming has demonstrated a keen eye for impressionism in his interpretation of such great masters as Monet and Cezanne. Although his variety is somewhat darker, “messier” than the originals, compressing homage with seeds of disruption — a development one would expect from a contemporary artist — the confident handling of the painterly vocabulary of the art movement evokes nostalgia and a renewed sense of trust in the classic repository. It is reassuring that artists still hold the keys to it, visit its brilliant galleries and occasionally allow the rest of us in, offering a new angle or sometimes simply a visual commentary.

Ming’s exercise with impressionism may include both. Unrehearsed and impressionistic bordering on the extreme brushwork dominates the paintings almost physically, connecting the viewer to the artist’s vision in palpable and instinctive thrusts. There is something violent in how the paint lays on the surface, creating a mystifying effect of the artist’s hand still conjuring; invisible, yet present. I think that some of these effects arise as necessary modern adjustments: Monet’s packed, busy cityscapes (such as Rue Montorgueil with Flags, Musee d’Orsay, Paris) force the creative disciple towards radical solutions; the artist here displays historic sensibility in the treatment of this subject.

In the two above pieces the artist touches the theme of anonymity in the big city, the threatening and overwhelming effect that urban environment exerts on its residents, without the smallest consequence, so it would seem, to itself. But the city in many ways is the people that inhabit it, and the damage it inflicts on the living scars its social fabric. Ming reflects on this reciprocality by presenting both a maximalistic, generalized view, and a particular portrait of two young men, confident, yet adverse and alienated. The background of city lights only emphasizes the complexity that occupies many modern philosophers and theorists, to remain unresolved.

Overall, the artist’s version of impressionism is a centaur of ideas. He serves tradition on a plate of his own making — and it’s decorations may be so vivid as to confuse the viewer as to where one ends and the other begins. The painter seeks to express the global trend of national exchange (the depicted city is Prague, the two men are apparently Yakuza); I think, however, that in order to derive the most from his art, one needs to abandon all attempts at differentiation, and enjoy the dish as it is.

I-Ming: Dragons

elijah — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 21:51:46 +0000

Ming is a Malaysian (of Chinese origin) artist and prominent art blogger, whose work you may find on 30dayartist and his art blog. His interests cover many fields of the visual arts, painting, illustration and comics to name just a few. To my mind, similarly to many artists who are and were actively involved in the business side of the trade, Ming is constantly torn between the, some would say, conflicting elements of creative expression and hard cold marketing. I may be off the mark in my psychological observation regarding his artistic output — but some of his paintings project anger, the result of this conflict, making them a fascinating playground of powerful emotions.

As an illustrator, Ming derives inspiration from modern superheroes, including Superman and Spiderman. But the theme of today’s review are mythical creatures of a much more ancient origin: dragons. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I never entirely understood the admiration for superheroes; but then, I’m not an American, I come from a different culture. My childhood fancy sheltered folk knights and Zmey Gorynych, the Slavic Dragon, a three headed fire-spitting monster, always ending up decapitated (several times) due to its stupidity and clumsiness. Ming’s dragons, on the other hand, appear swift, elusive and generally more balanced — he comes from a different culture too.

These paintings reveal a flair for the abstract, both in minimalistic and complex forms. The black and white version is almost suprematist in its geometric simplicity and dichromatism, whereas the green and golden orange variations enframe heaps of color that desensitize the eye from the surroundings as figuratively meaningful, marking them rather as psychological intensifiers. The abstract features feed perceptual uncertainty and, in turn, the dragons themselves “feed on it”, on the one hand implying freedom and deliverance and on the other menace and danger. The creatures may emerge as both the cause and the suppressors of a vague, possibly chaotic situation.

I think that the drive for variety and experimentation evident in Ming’s artwork proves how resolute the artist is to carve his own niche and leave an indelible mark. Ming takes risks and is especially adroit at spicing the traditional form with popular culture motifs — often leading to surprising, unusual results — but that is not to say that he doesn’t give tradition its due. It is probably the mix of the old and the new that makes his art so spontaneous and intriguing; you rarely know what to expect, but the anticipation is always worth it.

Art & Critique » I-Ming

I-Ming: Comics and Illustrations

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I-Ming: Impressionist Paintings

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I-Ming: Dragons

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