Cheng Shifa Art Museum

Cheng Shifa Art Museum is located on Hongqiao Road in Shanghai’s Changning District, in the well-known Gubei area. The museum is operated by the Shanghai Chinese Painting Academy, but it was named in honor of the celebrated Shanghai School artist Cheng Shifa. That background also makes it clear what the museum centers on: Chinese painting is the core of its collection and exhibitions.

The building itself is understated yet grand, not unlike the Liu Haisu Art Museum. Both in architectural design and in its internal facilities, it feels like an exceptionally well-equipped public exhibition space.

By mid-June, Shanghai had already entered its long stretch of rainy, overcast days. Even though it was a public holiday, the museum was nearly empty. At the time of my visit, two exhibitions were on view. One, on the third floor, was A Tribute to Life: A Display of Cheng Shifa’s Works, which I assume is the museum’s permanent exhibition. But judging from my own experience, it was rather underwhelming, both in the number of works on display and in their overall impact. As for Cheng Shifa himself—born in Songjiang, Shanghai, and often regarded as a culminating figure of the Shanghai School—I will have to leave a fuller understanding of him for another time.

The other exhibition, however, was a genuine surprise: Wandering the Mind Through Things: A Joint Exhibition of Painting and Calligraphy by Liu Wanming, Zhao Jiancheng, Guan Jun, and Fang Xiang. It introduced me to several contemporary Chinese artists whose styles and artistic philosophies felt strikingly close to my own sensibilities.

The works by Liu Wanming included the largest Chinese paintings I have ever seen in scale, along with pieces described as "finger-and-ink on paper"—paintings made with the fingers and palm rather than the brush. Most of the works were created in just the past few years, which suggests that the artist is still very much in the prime of his creative life. Yet his interpretation of Chinese painting is remarkable: it fully grasps the essence of traditional technique while also feeling expansive, bold, and unrestrained. Liu himself writes, “The relationship between the ‘vast’ and the ‘subtle’ in Chinese painting is dialectically unified. How to use visible brush and ink to evoke the invisible realm, how to express within a finite space the immensity of heaven, earth, and all things—this is what Chinese painters strive for.” The exhibition opens with several monumental works by Liu, and throughout the show are albums of animal paintings he created as well. He clearly has a deep affection for animals, each one rendered with extraordinary vitality and spirit. In that sense, his work truly embodies both the “vast” and the “subtle.”

Next comes Zhao Jiancheng, represented here by portraits of figures from modern Chinese history, along with a small number of ordinary people. Compared with traditional Chinese figure painting, Zhao’s work is much more realist in orientation. Clothing and bodily forms are often simplified, yet with just a few strokes he is able to capture something essential about each subject’s identity. The faces, however, are rendered with astonishing precision: wrinkles, skin texture, and subtle lines are all distinctly visible. Looking closely, his method is not entirely governed by the rules of Western light and shadow, yet the figures are portrayed with a realism and delicacy that feel deeply convincing. He may be the painter I have seen who most harmoniously integrates the subject matter of Chinese painting with techniques borrowed from Western art. In the wall text, Zhao insists that his style is fundamentally different from Western aesthetics—but writing that, is he not also, indirectly, acknowledging some degree of influence from Western painting?

The third artist is Guan Jun, whose work I feel least equipped to judge. His contribution is primarily calligraphic, ranging from regular script and semi-cursive to clerical script and cursive script. Even with my rather limited ability to appreciate calligraphy, I could tell these were works of real refinement. What resonated with me most, however, was one of his statements: today, in both calligraphy and painting, the relentless pursuit of novelty often leads only to formal and conceptual games, while expressions of spirit, emotion, and aesthetic depth become increasingly superficial. To return to the traditional practice of cultivating painting and calligraphy together, and to sense the vitality of traditional culture as a whole—whether out of personal interest, professional need, or respect for tradition—is something he is willing to keep working toward without cease. The purity of this artist’s conviction aligns uncannily with my own. In an earlier post—perhaps the one about visiting the Liu Haisu Art Museum—I wrote about the difficulties facing modern Chinese painting and about the utilitarian mindset behind abandoning tradition in the name of “efficiency.” Here, I found that concern echoed in Guan’s words, which made me genuinely happy.

The last artist is Fang Xiang. His style leans more toward the contemporary, and his subjects are largely drawn from present-day urban life. In terms of composition, he seems to strike a balance between the shifting perspective prized in traditional Chinese painting and the single-point perspective of Western art. In smaller sections, the images conform closely to single-point perspective, but taken as a whole, the composition still feels unmistakably Chinese. His brushwork is rougher and more textured, yet overall the paintings remain very accessible to the general viewer’s eye. In his own artist statement, he speaks of the importance of a natural state of mind while painting and also emphasizes that a pure and simple attitude toward life is itself a kind of artistic realm. On both counts, I find myself in complete agreement.

This exhibition, bringing together works by contemporary Chinese painters and calligraphers, allowed me to see what Chinese painting can look like when it evolves with the times. That made me very happy. Their approach is one of careful, deliberate fusion: they have neither fully adopted Western perspectival draftsmanship nor merely replicated traditional painting wholesale. Instead, they carry the essence of Chinese art into a more modern visual language—and that seems to me a path well worth exploring.

All exhibitions at Cheng Shifa Art Museum are free of charge. To see all the galleries across its three floors, you should allow at least an hour and a half.