Meng Yangyang’s figurative paintings create a distinctive sense of space that is at once quiet and subtly unsettling, achieved through airy color palettes and pared-down compositions. This interview delves into her intentions in using mixed media and explores the sources of her practice.

- Could you tell us about your starting point as an artist? What were the initial influences, such as books, paintings, or childhood events, and how did they lead you to the style you have today?

Meng Yangyang: I was born into a vast ancestral house left behind by my grandfather. The busyness of my family and the unfamiliarity of the living space left me with a sense of loneliness, as if I had been forgotten by the world. One day, I noticed lines of motorcycles carved into the old walls by my father during his childhood. That discovery led me to begin a kind of dialogue across time, drawing on the floor with chalk.

My solitary childhood made me unusually sensitive, attuned to the subtleties of others—their expressions, tones, and emotional warmth. A smile, a touch—these became points of light that echo repeatedly in my memory. That early loneliness shaped a unique frequency through which I perceive the world. Through it, I found painting, using it to fill countless moments of longing to be seen and to connect.

The relationship between the individual and the world, and between the self and the self, runs throughout my work. Painting is a tool for constructing my inner world, allowing the scripts I rehearse within my inner theater to take form, and enabling me to express a sustained gaze into human nature and the fine granularity of emotion.

Whitestone Gallery Taipei

- What are your primary sources of inspiration? Do they come from the external world, or more from your internal thoughts?

Meng: My creative inspiration arises from an interplay between the external world and inner reflection, and the two are difficult to separate. The outside world provides sensory stimuli and material for observation, while emotion, memory, dreams, philosophical thought, and the subconscious transform these elements into a distinct form of expression.

My practice is grounded in the perception and observation of the external world, while also serving as an examination of my own existence and individual emotions. The core driving force of my work comes from the outside world and carries a concern for social and human conditions, reflecting both the realities of individual existence and the issues embedded in collective consciousness today.

When the foundations of existence, such as a sense of security, self-worth, and spiritual support, begin to waver, it signals not only a social crisis but also a drift toward existential emptiness for the individual. For me, the meaning of creating lies both in confronting my own inner dilemmas and in reflecting the broader, shared conditions of our time.

- How does a work typically come into existence, from the first spark of an idea to the finished piece?

Meng: A work usually emerges from my observation of the present moment, whether as a rendering of reality, a capture of emotion, or a response to a question. Whether I draw from images found online or from photographs I have taken, I quickly translate these “resonant” images into line drawings to capture the initial spark of inspiration. This is a part I especially enjoy. Sketches accumulate in piles, with lines that are free and unrestrained. Sometimes, revisiting sketchbooks from years ago can reignite new ideas.

Color studies help clarify the vague sensations formed during the thinking process on paper. At this stage, I try many different approaches. Color determines emotion and is a crucial part of the work, making the process increasingly engaging. In the final stage, I allow a chance to enter and even boldly disrupt the image. Intuition, technique, and uncertainty all come into play, as the work gradually unfolds through cycles of construction and destruction. The meaning of the subject is refined through repeated consideration, layering, and revision, and the completion of the work ultimately waits for the moment when its “soul” appears.

Whitestone Gallery Taipei

- Are there any specific techniques, materials, or steps in your process that are essential to your work?

Meng: In my practice, I pay close attention to the subtle effects produced by the inventive use of materials. In this series of mixed media paintings, the preparation of the surface is based on a unique formula and method I have developed. This distinctive texture and material quality interact with the paint to create unusual effects and atmospheres.

The density of the surface emphasizes the materiality of painting, breaking away from the conventional constraints of the frame and allowing the work to extend beyond its edges. At this point, the painting is not only the image itself, but the entirety of its presence, including the frame.

Is painting moving toward sculpture? Perhaps it is an ambiguous relationship between the two.

Close Up

- In addition to the minimal backgrounds, you often use canvases in unique shapes, such as circular or rounded forms. What is the reason behind choosing these non-rectangular canvases?

Meng: Breaking the boundaries of painting, especially the material constraints of its support, has always been something I strive for. These irregularly shaped canvases stem from my fascination with sculpture and installation art. The diversity and variability of plastic form bring additional layers of interest to the work. In particular, ancient sculpture and mural traditions have offered me many inspirations for moving beyond the conventional rectangular frame.

Tracing further back, cave murals, painted objects, ancient pottery, pictorial bricks, and curved Buddhist niches were often created on irregular, curved surfaces. To me, the fact that ancient artists worked on non-rectangular supports carries a kind of refined, almost ritualistic sensibility rooted in an Eastern aesthetic.

With shaped canvases, the viewer first becomes aware of the work as a whole, the canvas itself, before focusing on the imagery within. This creates a dual expression of form and content, challenging the notion of painting as merely an image on a flat surface. The irregular canvas is precisely tailored to the image, reinforcing the theme and acting as an invisible language in service of the work’s subject.

Whitestone Gallery Taipei

- What is currently capturing your interest, and how do you see your work evolving in the near future?

Meng: As a Chinese artist, the deeper I go into my practice, the more I feel that ancient Chinese art contains an inexhaustible reservoir. It is both the foundation of my aesthetic sensibility and a central source of creative inspiration. Through studying and engaging with it, I have come to see many points of resonance between ancient and contemporary art.

Within ancient traditions lies a refined aesthetics of restraint, one that aligns closely with my own pursuit of a gentle, inward, and quietly ritualistic sensibility. Whether in the solemn stillness of bronze vessels, the fluid vitality of calligraphy and painting, or the understated presence of sculptural forms, I find a kind of strength and depth that I seek to express in my work.

I aim to transform the spiritual core, aesthetic principles, and sense of atmosphere in ancient Eastern art into the nourishment and foundation of my practice, integrating them deeply with contemporary art, and using my own visual language to address present-day concerns.

Whitestone Gallery Taipei

While varying the shape and materials of her canvases, Meng Yangyang’s subject consistently concerns the connection between the individual and the world, and the relationship with the self. Resonating with the primal impulse of art that reaches back to cave murals, she incorporates East Asian traditional supports into her contemporary practice, sublimating them into a distinctive mode of expression that questions the boundary between painting and sculpture.

The Fissure of Perception: LI Manjin, MENG Yangyang, Misha