Kiang Malingue is pleased to present at its Tin Wan space an exhibition of drawings by Jin Mei. This is the first comprehensive exhibition of more than 150 drawings by the artist, tracing the origin and developments of Jin Mei’s drawing practice since 2015. The exhibition is accompanied by an essay written by Jin Mei’s daughter Chang Yuchen, who acted as the editor of the artist’s recent publication, jm.

Mama had surgery at the end of 2015 and started to draw on paper while resting in bed. When I visited home in Beijing in the autumn of 2016, she showed me the drawings. My gaze got lost in the intricate lines and textures. Traces made with pencils, crayons and colored markers were so tangible and concrete, while the decisive gestures of mama’s hand were still so present. Within each drawing, every seemingly repetitive element was slightly unique, and this tension between resemblance and distinction created an illusion like a constant tremor. Repetition is not mechanical, but charged with emotion and pulsing-like persistence. I could recognize mama in some drawings, but more often what I felt was an unfamiliar force. A force that evokes the joy and pain of life itself, but more mysterious, and more detached. 

In the years that followed, we would have a “studio visit” in her bedroom every time I came home. Every time, the quantity, diversity, and development of her work would amaze me. Mama never ceases to experiment with new mediums, scale, composition, and technique. What humbles me the most is her fearless use of color. The green of spring, rose of passion, purple of melancholy, pink of flirtatiousness, and black of unfathomable abyss—mama operates a wide spectrum of colors like a general conducting a grand army. And the colors don’t fail her, they conjure up torrents, stardusts and cyclones; images that express beauty and violence simultaneously. 

I draw too, so I not only appreciate mama’s work, but also her style of working—she’s always drawing: before cooking, during laundry, between going to the bank and walking Dandan (our dog); by the dining table, in her bed, and sometimes on a folding chair. The way mama works has taught me: art isn’t something so special that can only happen in designated time and space, and “artist” is not necessarily a profession; on the contrary, art is only natural. Like a flower grows towards the sunlight, or grass emerges from a crack, mama seizes the opportunity amid the chores and troubles of everyday life, and departs for a brief yet wild trip every now and then. With concentration and joy, she fills up pieces of paper, pieces of time. Her essence naturally flows, her art naturally thrives.

In 2024, jm the book was finally published. After 8 years of slow editing, I was happy to finally introduce mama’s work to the world. In the past months, jm has received much love and support from friends, including artist Kyung-Me, who told me that she places this book on her table whenever she draws. Even though the styles are completely different, she could gather courage from my mama’s work. Because of the recommendation of Kyung-Me, mama is able to show her work with Kiang Malingue, which delights us greatly. In the beginning of October, I accompanied mama for her first visit to Hong Kong. As we slowly placed her hundreds of drawings on the gallery floor, I could sense mama gradually transitioning from shaky nervousness to confidence, and even a touch of pride: it turns out that the drawings made in our dark, cluttered home are shining in this beautiful, spacious gallery; it turns out that life soaked with pain and worry actually gave birth to breathtaking artworks. And now, they are going to be seen.[1]

Chang Yuchen, October 2024, Beijing

[1] Parts of this text were first written in 2020 as the preface for jm, and finalized in 2024.

 
(About Jin Mei)

Jin Mei was born in Shanxi in 1961, and she attended the School of Art at Shanxi University in 1982. After graduation, Jin Mei worked as an art director for a magazine. In 1993, she “jumped into the sea”: she quit her job and opened her own business, Jin Mei Flower Shop, with which she supported the artistic practice of her family financially and emotionally. Jin Mei picked up a paint brush again when she was 50 years old.