THE BACKSIDE OF CHILDHOOD

by Zhang Moliu

This exhibition features a selection of my works from the past two years. During this time, I suddenly realized that I was no longer as fixated as before on seeking semantic logic or narrative coherence. Instead, I wanted to paint in a deeper, almost subconscious way—one that even I don’t fully understand. I tentatively call it a method of "letting the work grow on its own," where my body takes over and guides my brushstrokes the moment I face the canvas. To avoid overthinking, I deliberately paint quickly, allowing raw impulse, intuition, and emotion to dictate the composition.

Sometimes, before starting a new piece, I revisit old, unsatisfactory paintings. My body seems to prefer working atop an existing image rather than a blank canvas. The act of painting feels like a dialogue, and having a "partner" makes it easier to begin. When I rework a "finished" piece, overlapping layers emerge before the original image is fully obscured, creating chaotic yet fascinating textures that lend the work an open-ended quality. Painting over an old surface also feels like destruction—it returns me to the uninhibited scribbles of childhood, to a time when I "couldn’t draw." That primal, muscular memory leads me back to a long-forgotten, fundamental vitality.

This process fascinates me. It’s a way to reconnect with myself and a reminder that artistic practice isn’t about advanced techniques or flawless execution, but about confronting the most essential question: how one faces their own existence in the world.