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Exhibition Period | 展览时间

2023.9.16 – 10.21

Exhibition Address | 展览地点

天线空间 AntennaSpace

上海市莫干山路 50 号 17 号楼 202 室

Room 202, Building 17, No.50 Moganshan Rd. Shanghai

07

哥特风水墨与道家黑色电影

Gothic Ink, Taoist Noir

如果说，致力于严谨地与历史和地方性互动，可以产生像这样的重要概念锚点，为艺术家在持续实践中进一步建立提供支持，反过来说，有时候介入也可能真实的创造出场所性以及美学现实，也可以创造出同样意想不到的新的可能性。我在此关注一些将水墨画——其技巧、物质性、传统等参照——融入总是不断复返的哥特文化（19世纪的文学、70年代音乐，互联网时代的图形设计）。这涉及到各种不同的立场和方法：我们见过用哥特朋克阅读水墨身体表演，新文艺复兴绘画中运用中国文人画的元素，以及融合式的黑暗清代巴洛克室内装饰。与其讨论这些多样性实践背后的特定文化策略，我希望读者注意这些实践是有意为之，是我们在这些艺术家工作室中见证文化流动的反本质性。所有这些都不是“自然的”，因为这些艺术家未必是在调用内生的传统，而是在发现新的传统，找到自己的方法，并为他们所遇到的事物决定新的说法。

If the commitment to engage rigorously with place and history can lead to significant conceptual anchors like these, bulwarks upon which an artist can build further in his or her ongoing practice, then the opposite intervention can sometimes also be true: the fabrication of the site—of an aesthetic reality—can also create new possibilities, and equally unexpected ones. I am interested in a sensibility here that brings together some configuration of the techniques, materialities, traditions, or references of ink painting with the recurring cultural moments of the Gothic (be that nineteenth century literature, 1970s music, or internet-era graphic design). This involves a whole matrix of different positions and approaches: we have seen a goth-punk take on ink-based body performance, the inclusion of Chinese literati painting references in Renaissance revivalist painting, and the fusion of a dark Qing baroque interior decor. More than any particular goal or cultural strategy behind these diverse practices, I want to call attention to the intentionality of these practices, to the anti-essentialist nature of cultural fluidity that we witness in these artists’ studios. None of this is “natural,” in the sense that none of these artists find themselves necessarily working with built-in traditions; they are finding new ones, making their own ways, and deciding on new names for and translations for the things they land on.

「米修米修收到信号了吗」展览现场

In order to start off from a quasi-historical grounding, I would like to begin with the late artist Yu Peng, who was born in postwar Taipei in 1955, part of a generation of artists who traveled back and forth between mainland and Taiwan with a keen interest in the evolution of Chinese cultural traditions through the complex genealogies of migration and individuation in the twentieth century. Here we have gathered two paintings, both from the early 2000s, that reflect Yu’s highly personal take on the ink landscape tradition. The first, The Place Where a Dashing Dragon Hides – as a Fairy (2004), is a densely planted garden or forest drafted fully through thick black ink; at the center, the blackest black of two tree trunks disperses only slightly to suggest roots, branches, and leaves. The brushwork is hardly clumsy but quotes at liberty from various traditions: dry brushed rocks at the top, pointillistic foliage at center, and 1990s figuration at front. The second painting, The Dazzling World (2004), is a calligraphic work in red and black, capturing the same chaotic energy and extending it into the bodies pictured, such that Yu’s recurring (human) characters become literal (textual) characters.

Yu Peng 于彭

The Dazzling World 花花世界

Ink and color on paper 纸本彩墨

121.1 x 42.6 cm

Yu Peng 于彭

The Place Where a Dashing Dragon Hides as a Fairy

矫龙掩映处 – 如仙童 , 2004

Ink on paper 纸本水墨

136.2 x 69.3 cm

The stage is set, then, for a free appropriation of ink traditions within the contemporary space; this is not the technique-obsessed dogmatic world of “new ink” or other competing movements. I would like to propose next the work of Heidi Lau, whose work in ceramic and clay has long engaged with contemporary revisions of ancient Chinese mythological canons. Here she contributes three ceramic reliefs, a relatively new format in her practice, paired with an increasingly exquisite level of coloration and glazing. In Metamorphosis II and Movement before Dusk (both 2023) in particular, we might read an echo of the inky density of the fleshy pleasure gardens we saw in Yu Peng, as Lau draws the dark possibilities of ink into new material realms worlds away from the historical traditions of ceramics.

「米修米修收到信号了吗」展览现场

Heidi Lau 刘慧德

The Unvanquished 坚不可摧, 2023

Glazed ceramic 釉面陶瓷

35.6 x 27.9 x 15.2 cm

Switching aesthetic gears in order to push this point, Evelyn Taocheng Wang’s Friendship (2023) resides fully in the space of the American conceptual painting milieu as well as the social context of Chinese literati painting and calligraphy. As part of her overall project, Wang sometimes inhabits the subject position of Agnes Martin, in this case in order to produce Martin’s 1963 work Friendship, one of a small number of grid paintings she executed in gold leaf, which sits in the collection of MoMA. Wang’s reproduction is faithfully minimal, except for a think white border along the left and bottom edges of the gold, where Wang has, in her trademark calligraphy—sharp cut English lettering in black ink, stamped with a red seal just above her signature—written out her instructions for making the work, just as fellow artists, scholars, and collectors might have left their thoughts in the margins of ink paintings in centuries past. Making this canvas fully her own, she has also cheekily painted in a raspberry tart just off center.

Evelyn Taocheng Wang 王伊芙苓韬程

Friendship 友谊, 2023

Gesso primer on linen canvas, embedded 24K gold leaf, acrylic, oil, ink and artist's seal 嵌入式 24K 金箔上丙烯，油彩，墨和艺术家印章，布面上石膏底料

195 x 195 cm

Lest we get caught up in the potential cultural essentialism of all this, I would like to turn to the work of Daniel Dewar & Grégory Gicquel, whose Oak bench with 22 punctata beetles and snails (2022) sits at the heart of this room. An indeterminate object—too useful-looking to read as sculpture, too small to function properly as a bench—this thing offers itself up to as as viewers as a kind of weirdly ornate wooden pedestal studded with snails carved out of the same wood and a flaccid sculpture displayed on top of it in the form of a pillow embroidered with colorful beetles. This bestiary recalls the landscape traditions we see elsewhere here, making the furniture alive through its totemic animal spirits in much the same way that the human body turns sculpture into furniture through intimate interactions.

Daniel Dewar & Grégory Gicquel

丹尼尔·杜瓦 & 格雷戈里·吉奎尔

Oak bench with 22 punctata beetles and snails

有 22 只葡萄丽金龟和蜗牛的长凳, 2022

Embroidery on cushion, oak wood

软垫上刺绣，橡木

60 x 88 x 68 cm

Similarly moving across cultural geographies and the kingdoms Plantae and Animalia, Yong Xiang Li contributes a small work on paper, a study for a painting still in progress. Study for "Intestinal Demonstration and a Catastrophe" (2023) consists of four wood panels with hinges and handles intended to be folded around a plinth in imitation of a sideboard—again the interest in painting as architecture, as parasite or structure within sacred space, that turns furniture into landscape. The composition is mirrored, drawing inspiration from one of the artist’s favorite paintings: Nicolas Poussin’s Landscape with a Man Killed by a Snake (ca. 1648). Here the titular man is joined by another figure experiencing a kind of intestinal explosion, wrapped in another muscular serpentine form, while all of his human action is offset by the placid architectural forms in the distance. Li handles his brushwork with explicit references to the Chinese landscape tradition, particularly the trees and hills, borrowing European subject matter when it becomes necessary to claim a certain darkness within the drama of the picture.

Yong Xiang Li 李泳翔

Study for "Intestinal Demonstration and a Catastrophe"

肛肠尽现及一个灾难 , 2023

Acrylic on paper 纸上丙烯

40.5 x 30 cm

Remaining in the realm of the senses, Yu Honglei’s work is that of a preternaturally talented sculptor, every object a formal miracle that functions in our embodied experience of three dimensions even as it demands to be read again in two; Yu is, I believe, one of the few artists of our era able to move seamlessly between the image and the object, translating visual moments from one to the other with fluency. ,#3 (2018), one of a suite of sculptures in rough brass topped with paper chili peppers, reads like a digital icon—is that the Twitter bird?—made monumental, sent backwards in time and then dragged through history accumulating traces of the body’s experience of aging only to land here again, a product of an imagination that could only come to exist in this particular moment and yet appears to us as timeless.

Yu Honglei 尉洪磊

#3, 2018

Brass, stainless steel, iron wire, paper, millet rice

黄铜，不锈钢，铁丝，纸，小米

97 x 39 x 57 cm

This chapter closes as it must: with an introspective cigarette smoked alone against a dark window looking out into the dead of night. Cheng Xinyi’s Frosted Window (2023) reads as a double self-portrait, the face of the smoker visible in the flesh in three-quarters view and again, miniaturized and slightly muddled, in her reflection in the window, illuminated in both cases by the flame of her match or lighter. Despite the reflection, the rest of the window is a dark matte black. This night is deep. She has no mouth; the cigarette is its only function. Where her glasses are clearly evident in the reflection, on her larger face their lenses lose focus, two clouded voids intent on the experience of everything and nothing that sits so close at hand.

Xinyi Cheng 程心怡

Frosted Window 毛玻璃, 2023

Oil on canvas 布面油彩

90 x 70 cm

08

绘画作为绘画

Painting qua Painting

到目前为止，我们已经讨论到了各种不同地区和世代的艺术家在文化上的感性、趋势、意图以及其潜意识。进入展览最后一个展厅，我们转向思考当代艺术中的流派、媒介和主题所起到的作用。显然，这也让讨论变成了一个关于绘画的故事；我相信，此处所汇集的画家都特别注重如何运用象征符码，从而回应他或她之于绘画媒介以及绘画史的关系，这与我们迄今在展览中看到绘画在其他背景下的调用，形成了鲜明对比。在此，我们与媒介较量，选择直面其符号的接受方式，而不是另辟替代蹊径。最重要的是，这些作品要求我们仔细、认真地观察，并且，要拒绝将经验感性化或知识化的诱惑。这里与展览的开场章节有其对称关系，首章教会我们如何结合隐喻来观看；在这里，我们被要求从其表面、从实际和技术的角度观看，从而弄清作品的运作方式，弄清这里到底在发生什么，然后再将这点认识带回到美术馆的其他展厅中，重新观看其他的作品。

So far we have engaged with sensibilities, tendencies, intentions, and the subconscious parameters of culture across territories and generations. Moving into the final room of the exhibition, we turn to consider the role that genre, medium, and subject matter play in contemporary art. This ostensibly becomes a story about painting; I believe there is a particularity to the painters gathered here, where symbolic codes are deployed as the terrain across which the artist works out his or her relationship to the medium and its history, all of which is in stark contrast to the other contexts in which we have seen painting deployed across this exhibition so far. Here we are grappling with the medium, choosing to engage with its received codes rather than carving out alternative modalities. Above all else these works demand of us that we look, closely and carefully, and that we fend off the temptation to either sensualize or intellectualize our experience. There is a symmetry here with the opening chapter of the exhibition, which taught us to look in a metaphorical sense; here we asked to look literally, pragmatically, and technically, to figure out how the works work—to figure out what is really going on here—and then to take this back with us as we retrace our steps through the gallery.

「米修米修收到信号了吗」展览现场

The small painting, one Untitled (2023) by Stanislava Kovalcikova, presents a slippery set of planes that seem to be at risk of collapsing into one another or sliding off the surface of the picture entirely. Eyes peek out from a silvery shroud of mist, while ears grow atop thinly rooted green stems. Kovalcikova’s recent solo exhibition worked a piece of wizardry on this same exhibition space, transforming it into a permanent oblique slice of the golden hour and filling it with disturbingly charged paintings dripping with magic and wonder and turbulence. Here she inserts a witching hour in miniature, a view into our world from inside of the painting.

Stanislava Kovalcikova 斯坦尼斯拉娃·科瓦奇科娃

Untitled 无题 , 2023

Encaustic decoupage on copper plate 铜板上浮雕拼贴绘画

22.5 x 24 cm

Stanislava Kovalcikova 斯坦尼斯拉娃·科瓦奇科娃

Untitled 无题 , 2023

Oil and silver leaf on panel 木板上油彩和银箔

55 x 69.5 cm

Entering the space we first encounter three works by Buck Ellison, which seem like something of a red herring given the title of the chapter because they are, emphatically, not paintings at all. His photography is deeply engaged with the tropes and conventions of its medium, and it is through their melding of medium and genre that I find such an interesting relationship to painting. In Ellison’s work there is a doubling of genre, a layering of the photographic genre (the family portrait/ candid family snapshot) over the top of the human genre (the upper middle class northeastern prep school world). Every element of every photograph is calculated to play a role in constructing the image in both senses: every garment, every prop, every gesture. And yet there is an intense naturalism to the work, such that their constructed nature is both self-evident and unavoidable, because the posed and the candid are, in this context, implicitly known to be one and the same. The photographer does the work of his subject, and vice versa.

Buck Ellison 巴克·埃里森

Stable Marriage Problem 稳定婚姻问题, 2023

Archival pigment print 收藏级颜料印刷

91.4 x 129.5 cm

Two monumental figurative paintings by Matthew Lutz-Kinoy draw on intertextual references for their subject matter, pushing the human body in different directions entirely to empty out all of these social codes and instead allude to its literary and carnal dimensions. River (2022) quotes Paul Cadmus’s iconic and controversial Depression-era male homoeroticism, while Blue after Baltrop (2019) borrows its homosexual embrace from the New York cruising culture documented by the titular artist from the 1970s-80s. In Lutz-Kinoy’s treatment, the human body becomes both a geography and an icon, something to be mapped and the map itself. His trademark flattening through stencil composition shares its technique with paper collage, leaving planes of color to intersect in a play of shallow shading and depth. I had initially hoped to exhibit Lutz-Kinoy’s bird paintings, finding an interesting resonance in the symbolic language of the bestiary, but stymied in that sense I am forced instead to recognize the symbolic order of the body as it is catalogued here—reconstituted, perhaps, after we have seen it broken down into the architectural field.

Matthew Lutz Kinoy 马修·卢茨 – 基诺伊

River 河流 , 2022

Acrylic on canvas 布面丙烯

370 x 250 cm

Ironically, we arrive at the birds, finally, in the work of Zhao Gang, for whom they become vehicles for pure brushwork. The same could be said for nearly all of his work across genres in the past decade or so: scholar’s rocks, female nudes, hocks of ham, Chinese intellectuals, plants in flower, self-portrait. A painter’s painter, Zhao looks at his own studio as a site of the compression and refraction of the world around him, and therefore trusts his work—more or less—as an honest picture of the historical reality around him. This is a radical if not transcendental empiricism in which physical objects in view of the easel hold the exact same weight as mental images that emerge in reading a book or entertaining an idle fantasy; I believe this positions Zhao’s work as close to the (perhaps misleading) concept of pure painting as it is possible to come. The two bird pictures here, Vacation No.6 (2022) and Bird Man (2023), are precisely such objects: symbols and carriers of symbolic language, chaotically neutral inhabitants of consciousness.

Zhao Gang 赵刚

Vacation No.6 假期 6 号 , 2022

Oil on canvas 布面油彩

180 x 180 cm

Zhao Gang 赵刚

Bird Man 鸟人 , 2023

Oil on canvas 布面油彩

50 x 60 cm

Having learned to read feathers as brushwork, we are as prepared as we will ever be to examine Xie Nanxing’s Travel Brochures (2023), a triptych of loose compositions on canvas. Each panel depicts the same rocking chair that sits in the artist’s Beijing studio, quoting liberally from Joseph Kosuth’s One and Three Chairs (1965), and Xie gently pokes fun at the seeming ease with which the contemporary viewer is able to grasp semiotic concepts like these while remaining unwilling or unable to look closely at painting and figure out what is actually happening therein. In the panel at left, the chair is hastily sketched in thin black lines, while a black pit marks a center of gravity on its seat—this is a portrait; two characters at lower left read “rocking chair.” In the middle panel, lines thicken and our perspective as viewers is shaken up, leaving us without a point of reference; the eye lands most easily instead on the studio window at rear. Two characters at lower left, again thicker than previously, read “image.” In the panel at right, the black lines of the rocking chair are thin again, but doubled with white, and they work in tandem with the wash in the rear ground. Four characters read “the next yawn.” It is night. I believe the text here is a handy bit of misdirection, a way to send on their way those who would prefer to see “the image” opposed to “the thing itself” and leave it at that. What Xie needs us to see, ultimately, is the jouissance he finds in the constructions of these paintings: that the wash is actually brushed; that those hasty lines are actually painstakingly drawn out one segment at a time—that, always, there is a second painting, a third painting, hiding behind the first one, for those who care to look.

Xie Nanxing 谢南星

Travel Brochures 旅行手册 , 2020

Oil on canvas 布面油彩

133.5 x 88.5 cm; 130 x 90 cm; 130 x 100 cm

A final painting, Allison Katz’s Milky Way (2022), rewards layered viewing and, by comparison, offers itself up on a platter. At the center, one dairy cow licks the face of another in a pastoral Alpine meadow. Katz works extensively with framing devices, and on the periphery of this image there are several: the cows are ensconced within a bowl-shaped silhouette, an echo of the mouth-shaped frames that the artist has used recently, beyond which a jagged abstract field (echoes of Clyfford Still) is itself constrained within a further rectangular yellow frame leaving negative space around the edges of the canvas. In the upper blue component of the field, an old-fashioned avatar of the artist appears, a laughing visage in on her own joke and keeping watch over the proceedings. In Katz’s vocabulary, milk might take on a maternal aspect, alluding in particular to the functional aspects of motherhood, but it also speaks to the artist’s inclusion in Cecilia Alemani’s Venice Biennale exhibition “Milk of Dreams,” which focused on twin pillars of women and surrealism and was titled after Leonora Carrington’s children’s book. (One page sounds like it might be describing Katz’s nested frames: “Here are the three boxes: the Green, the Pink, and the little box inside that bites.”) For our purposes, however, we will need to appropriate this title as a reference to the stars, because it is time to pack up our telescopes and return to the cold, dark reaches of outer space from whence we came.

Allison Katz 艾丽森·卡茨

Milky Way 银河, 2022

Oil and acrylic on canvas 布面油彩和丙烯

150 x 190 cm

「米修米修收到信号了吗」展览现场

尾声

Coda

我们在这里告一个段落。回顾整个展览，按顺序从头到尾说起来，展览所带出的观点涉及一系列观看的策略、工具、技巧和技术——近距离观看、慢慢看、仔细看、坚定地看、向内看、回顾性地看、带感情的看、超然的看、带着共鸣看、用心看、带着信仰观看、带着希望观看。或许更重要的是，这也是一个请求，请求我们继续寻找那些似乎从未到来的信号，并请求我们继续将信号发出去。这是我们的信仰之跃：如果我们在这里，希望能够得到回应，那么也许在外面有其他人，也在希望能够从我们这里得到回应。这也是我们继续实践的原因。展览如婚姻，通常是一种浑沌系统：刚开始，一切都顺利，直到发生了一些小差错，一些不平衡，将事情推离轨道，各种不可预测的元素纷至沓来，然后在无休止的循环中进一步引发不可预测的结果。每个展览都是一个与失败妥协的过程，但回顾的重点不在于推想是什么改变了项目进程。这个问题没有答案。它从一开始就包含了这些转折点；变化是其本质的一部分。重点在于理解它的可能性，而不是它本该是什么样。

We end here. Looking back over the exhibition, I see that what we have made of it is, from start to finish, a collection of strategies, tools, techniques, and technologies for looking—looking closely, looking slowly, looking carefully, looking determinedly, looking inward, looking backward, looking with feeling, looking with detachment, looking with empathy, looking with heart, looking with faith, looking with hope. It is also, perhaps even more importantly, a plea to keep looking for the signals that never seem to come, and a plea to keep sending them back out. This is our leap of faith: if we are here, hoping to hear back, then perhaps there is someone else out there, hoping to hear from us. This is why we keep doing what we are doing. Exhibitions, like families, like summer storms, like marriages, often function as chaotic systems in which everything proceeds apace until imbalances and asymmetries and mistakes push them off axis and introduce all kinds of unpredictable elements that then invite further unpredictable outcomes in an endless cycle. Every exhibition is a process of coming to terms with failure, but the point of looking backward is not to speculate on what it was that changed the course of the project. There is no answer to this question. It contains within it these points of inflection from the very beginning; they are part and parcel of its being. The point is to understand not what it might have been, but rather what it could still become.

「米修米修收到信号了吗」展览现场

外面有人吗？当我们迎接这样的习惯，并问出这一句话的时候——你能听到我说话吗？有人在吗？——这不是出于绝望，而是是一种创造行为。这件事情应作如是观：无论我们是在封闭的房间里独自弹吉他，还是用星形天线对着天空叫喊，从根本上来说，这种创造性行为意味着一种入世的态度。一根天线可以收发一声号召革命的呼唤；一首情歌；一个坐标；一个到期日；一次史诗般的吟诵；一份书目记录；填字游戏的答案；通往宝藏的地图；一次降神仪式的祈求；一条街道地址；一个物种鉴定；一则入睡故事；一个商品货号；真相；一个家族谱系；磁共振成像；误导性的布道；使用手册；翻译；乐谱；年鉴肖像；食谱；生日卡片；针织图案；自言自语；自制有声书；日记条目；推销文案；军事史讲座；伟大的美国小说；歌剧剧本；治疗课；股票代码；一首关于失败的短诗；推荐的膳食摄入量；专有算法；一点无用的琐事；梦的解析；工作清单；平面图；新闻稿；画册图录；邀请函；家书。想你，想你。

Is there anybody out there? When we embrace the costume and ask the question—Can you hear me? Is there anyone there?—it comes as an act of creation rather than an act of desperation. This is what we are doing: whether we are noodling on the guitar alone in a closed-off room or shouting at the sky with our star-shaped antennae, the creative act is a fundamentally pro-social transmission. An antenna is capable of sending and receiving a call to revolution; a love song; a location coordinate; an expiration date; an epic recitation; a bibliographic record; the answers to the crossword; a map to the treasure; an invocation to seance; a street address; a species identification; a bedtime story; a SKU code; the truth; a family tree; an MRI; a misleading sermon; an instruction manual; a translation; a score; a yearbook portrait; a recipe; a birthday card; a knitting pattern; a note to self; a self-help book on tape; a journal entry; a pitch deck; a lecture on military history; the Great American novel; a libretto; a therapy session; stock tickers; a short poem on defeat; recommended dietary allowances; a proprietary algorithm; a bit of useless trivia; a dream interpretation; a worklist; a floorplan; a press release; a catalogue; an invitation; a letter home. Miss you miss you.

文字翻译：陈玺安

图片致谢艺术家及天线空间

摄影：Cra

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艺术家方力钧（b.1963）个展《方力钧：面孔与陶瓷》于2023年10月14日在牛津大学阿什莫林博物馆（Ashmolean Museum Oxford）开幕，并于10月15日起对公众开放，展期半年。展览由阿什莫林博物馆中国艺术策展人、牛津大学亚洲与中东研究系副教授马熙乐教授（Prof. Shelagh Vainker）担任策展人。牛津大学阿什莫林博物馆是英国第一个公共博物馆，同时也是世界规模最大、藏品最丰富的一座大学博物馆。它的形成标志着近代博物馆的诞生。 此次展览是艺术家方力钧在英国的首个公共博物馆个展。

「方力钧：面孔与陶瓷」展览现场

方力钧（右）与展览策展人马熙乐教授（左）

《方力钧：面孔与陶瓷》展出了艺术家方力钧自20世纪70年代末学生时代起至今多达百幅的标志作品，涉及素描、油画、水墨、木刻版画、陶瓷雕塑、瓷板画、及纪录实验影像等多种材质与媒介类型。展出作品由艺术家工作室、知名公共机构及私人藏家共同提供。展览开幕式、研讨会、开幕招待酒会及晚宴由阿什莫林博物馆及牛津大学新学院共同主办，云端睿聚、凯旋画廊为展览提供全程支持，泸州老窖·国窖1573为展览提供品牌赞助。

阿什莫林博物馆馆长亚历山大·斯特吉斯博士

方力钧（右）与大卫·埃利奥特（左）

展览开幕式上阿什莫林博物馆馆长亚历山大·斯特吉斯博士（Dr. Alexander Sturgis）、策展人马熙乐教授先后致辞。馆长斯特吉斯博士致辞：“我们非常荣幸能够在阿什莫林博物馆为如此重要的一位当代艺术家举办个展，感谢各位的付出，同时也要感谢此次展览的各方支持。” 开幕研讨会上，方力钧与知名当代艺术策展人大卫·埃利奥特（David Elliott）对谈，共同回顾艺术家的艺术历程、创作生涯及重要影响，在对谈中，埃利奥特说：“深刻了解方力钧的艺术生活以及他作品背后的社会背景，对于了解中国当代艺术和中国社会，具有极其重要的意义。”

英国驻华大使吴若兰女士（左）与牛津大学新学院院长杨名皓（右）

方力钧（右）与杨名皓（左）

开幕的酒会和晚宴在牛津大学新学院（New College）中世纪大厅进行，牛津大学新学院院长杨名皓（Miles Young）代表学院欢迎前来参加展览开幕的嘉宾们：“我十分荣幸与方力钧先生相识多年，他确实是一位标志性的艺术家，他的作品是20世纪末和21世纪初中国的经典象征，就像安迪·沃霍尔的作品是20世纪美国的象征一样。在我看来，方力钧是真正的艺术家，以如此多元的方式探索艺术，与此同时他也在艺术教育上全情投入。今晚我还要衷心感谢英国驻华大使吴若兰女士（HMA Dame Caroline Wilson）的到来，这充分说明了此次展览的重要性，以及中英双方对文化交流的重视。”

「方力钧：面孔与陶瓷」开幕晚宴

包括英国驻华大使吴若兰女士、牛津大学艺术学院院长伊恩·基亚尔（Ian Kiaer）博士在内超过近百位来自中国、英国、法国、西班牙、葡萄牙、瑞士、日本的文化艺术界的嘉宾出席了开幕日活动。

「方力钧：面孔与陶瓷」展览开幕

「方力钧：面孔与陶瓷」展览现场

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