Taiwan Today

Over the past 100 years, artists have painted a colorful and increasingly confident portrait of Taiwan.

The story of fine art in Taiwan is one of multiple outside influences seasoned with increasing nativist expression. Like many other aspects of society in Taiwan over the past 100 years, the development of the arts was affected by the Japanese, who were the colonial rulers of the island from 1895 to 1945. Around the middle years of the colonial period, Taiwanese artists such as sculptor Huang Tu-shui (1895–1930) and painter Chen Cheng-po (1895–1947) came into contact with impressionism and other art traditions from European countries, notably France, as Japan followed their example in its drive for modernization. The Japanese also passed down the tradition of gouache, a kind of opaque watercolor, in Taiwan, although the technique can be traced back as far as China’s Tang dynasty (618–907). Important artists known for their gouache works include Kuo Hsueh-hu and Chen Chin (1907–1998), one of just a handful of female painters to have become famous in Taiwan.

“Before the Japanese came, few people were engaged in creating serious art in Taiwan,” says Lin Hsin-yueh, a 71-year-old artist specializing in Western painting as well as the history of fine art in Taiwan and mainland China. That situation changed when the colonial government organized the Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition in 1927, which provided a platform that encouraged the development of Taiwanese artists and also served to boost the status of the artist in local society. Some top local artists chose to go to Japan for further education and thereafter made a name for themselves at the Empire Art Exhibition in Tokyo. “If you got selected for that exhibition, it would often grab newspaper headlines back home in Taiwan,” Lin says.

While the promotion of local artists by the Japanese government helped with the development of fine art in Taiwan, it should be remembered that the colonial rulers did so as a means of assimilating Taiwan’s population into the Japanese empire. In this sense, Japan’s promotion of Taiwanese artists mirrored its actions in its colonies in Korea and Manchuria in northeast mainland China, where it organized art exhibitions for the same purpose. In fact, Japanese rule also hindered the development of the arts in Taiwan because the colonial rulers prohibited the publication of arts periodicals as well as the establishment of higher education institutions for the arts, Lin says. The Japanese did so out of the desire to prevent the spread of any form of ideology that could lead to rebellion against colonial rule.

After Japanese rule ended in Taiwan in 1945 and, more significantly, after the Nationalist government relocated from mainland China to Taiwan four years later, a new wave of immigration brought a considerable number of mainland artists to the island. Among the immigrant artists were the so-called “three masters crossing the sea,” namely the well-known painters Zhang Daqian (1899–1983), Pu Ru (1896–1963) and Huang Chunpi (1898–1991). All three were known for their traditional Chinese ink paintings, with Zhang perhaps the best known to the public. For his part, Huang played a particularly important role in Taiwan’s fine arts education and the promotion of ink painting, as he served as the director of the Department of Fine Arts at National Taiwan Normal University for 23 years beginning in 1949. That department was founded in 1947 and is Taiwan’s oldest academic institution devoted to fine arts.

Lin says that the majority of top mainland artists did not move to Taiwan with the Nationalists, however, since many were communist sympathizers such as Xu Beihong (1895–1953). Some left-leaning mainland artists, notably a group of printmakers, did come to Taiwan after 1945, but they were active only until the government crackdown known as the February 28 Incident in 1947, after which leftist groups were largely silenced.

In the 1950s, another group of mainlanders figured prominently in the art scene by going against art traditions and introducing new trends from the United States to Taiwan. “They were new immigrants in Taiwan and largely alone, so they were able to act more rebelliously than their Taiwanese counterparts, who might have found it hard to break with long-established connections and traditions,” Lin says of one major reason for the mainlanders’ innovations.

Meanwhile, as the Korean War in the early 1950s brought Taiwan and the United States closer as allies against communism, the island’s political atmosphere grew more favorable to importing new ideas from its Western ally. In the fine arts of that time, one of the most influential new ideas was abstract expressionism, a post-World War II art movement that originated in New York City. Lin says abstract expressionism was actually part of a “cultural cold war” between the United States and the Soviet Union, pitting the American free, abstract style against Soviet realism, which was often used as a propaganda tool.

Getting Abstract

Young immigrant artists from mainland China such as Liu Kuo-sung, who is known for his abstract ink paintings, played a crucial role in spreading abstract expressionism in Taiwan. According to Hsiao Chong-ray, an art history expert at National Cheng Kung University in Tainan, southern Taiwan, by the 1960s almost all of the island’s painters had tried their hand at the abstract expressionist style. Many participated in the May Art Association, of which Liu was a founding member, as well as the Eastern Art Association, which was formed by artists mentored by Lee Chun-shan (1912–1987), another mainland immigrant and artist. Both organizations were established in 1957 and played important roles in Taiwan’s art scene in the 1960s.

The 1970s saw a transition to the next stage of artistic development, that of cultural nativism. “The attention young people had paid to Western ideas since the 1950s gave way, at least temporarily, to a strong affection for their homeland in the 1970s,” Hsiao says. As it spread throughout Taiwan’s art circles, that homeward-looking trend later became known as the Native Soil Movement.

The shift in attitude was caused in part by changing international politics. In 1971, mainland China took over the Republic of China’s (ROC) seat in the United Nations, while Japan severed official ties with the ROC the next year. The ultimate blow came in 1979, when the United States shifted its diplomatic recognition from the ROC to mainland China. “Under such circumstances, Taiwan felt so isolated and cornered that its society started to reflect on its previous tendency to look to other countries. That’s why a new movement started,” Hsiao says.

Lin Hsin-yueh notes that the consequences of Taiwan’s economic boom also had a bearing on the development of the local art scene. As the process of industrialization accelerated, Taiwan’s economy grew, but at the expense of the environment and traditional agriculture. In addition, although blue-collar workers provided the muscle that created Taiwan’s economic miracle, most of the newly found wealth went to the growing middle class. Nativist art was a reaction to that trend, Lin says, as it largely focused on people in the lower classes.

Passion for the Arts

Painter Hsi Te-chin (1923–1981) was another influential figure in the nativist movement, according to National Cheng Kung University’s Hsiao Chong-ray. Hsi was known for his passion for local arts and culture, and is considered by many art experts to have been a factor behind the birth of the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act in 1982.

The movement reached its peak, however, when Hung Tung (1920–1987) and Ju Ming entered the scene. Illiterate and lacking formal art education, Hung did not start painting until he was 50 years old, but soon became known for—and drew media attention for—works rendered in a phantasmagorical style reminiscent of children’s drawings. Hung’s works were seen as strongly nativist because his style did not derive from exposure to foreign art theories and because his subject matter frequently included folk elements. “The China Times [a well-known local newspaper] tried especially hard to publicize the works of such a pure nativist,” Lin says.

Ju Ming’s sculptures were also highly promoted by the China Times, contributing to his rise to fame in 1976. Ju initially became known for a series of wood sculptures with a local flavor such as the famous In One Heart, which portrays a water buffalo pulling a heavily loaded cart as farmers help by pushing the vehicle. His status in Taiwan’s art world was later cemented by creations such as a series of works featuring tai chi poses in bronze and stainless steel.

Quality Venues

For fine artists, the 1980s were an especially encouraging time. In the first half of the decade, local government culture centers were completed around the island one after another, creating more quality exhibition venues for artists to showcase their works. The birth of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum (TFAM) in 1983 was especially significant due to its large exhibition space as well as research and collection functions. Taiwan now has three public museums dedicated exclusively to fine arts, including TFAM; the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts in Taichung, central Taiwan, which opened in 1988; and the Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Arts in southern Taiwan, which opened in 1994.

The lifting of martial law in 1987 also contributed greatly to freer artistic expression. Hsiao Chong-ray notes that the works of artists around that time are known for a tendency to take a highly critical approach toward subjects ranging from politics and social phenomenon to sex. Meanwhile, Lin Hsin-yueh says that international trends started to affect local art circles once again as an increasing number of artists who had studied abroad, mainly in the United States, returned to Taiwan. “But, unlike in the 1960s, this time artists thought more independently. Although they’d come into contact with a variety of foreign techniques and styles, they were more selective in using them to express local themes,” Lin says.

As for the current state of fine arts development in Taiwan, Hsiao notes that two trends stand out today. First, he says, many younger artists tend to use digital images in their works. One of them is Chen Chieh-jen, a 2009 winner of the National Award for Arts, Taiwan’s highest honors for artists. Chen’s works often focus on the relationship between the oppressor and the oppressed, but also imply that neither party can escape those roles, Hsiao says.

The other trend, the academic says, is that a substantial amount of today’s artworks look playful, amusingly nonsensical, cartoon-like or even toy-like to viewers due to their interactive features. Because it reveals an emerging sense of confidence, that trend is likely to be more noteworthy and influential than the use of digital imagery. “In the first years of the new century, art circles in Taiwan have displayed the self-assurance and ‘take-it-easy’ attitude that mark contemporary times. This seems to be a trend worth celebrating,” Hsiao says. Indeed, as the ROC moves into its next 100 years, there is every reason to believe that Taiwan’s artists will create an even more confident and colorful picture in the future.

Write to Oscar Chung at oscar@mail.gio.gov.tw