Issue 10, Profiles

Xinyi Cheng

The Pleasures of Looking

Words ELODIE SAINT-LOUIS

Photography TEA SIRBILADZE

In “A Lover’s Discourse,” Roland Barthes writes that “love at first sight requires the very sign of its suddenness… a curtain parts and what had not yet ever been seen is devoured by the eyes… the context is the constellation of elements, harmoniously arranged that encompass the experience of the amorous subject.”

To observe a painting by artist Xinyi Cheng is to drop into the moment when the curtain parts. A freeze-frame, an instance of surreal suspension. We look — hungrily, greedily, curiously — at the figures within, at times inhabiting the gaze love, desire, or intimacy engenders. These figures, many of them nude men, seem to be suspended or are affixed in space so the viewer observes them in peculiar positions. In Life on a String (2022), a man watches a bird as it balances on a string in mid-air. We see the man from above, the compressed perspective conveying a sense of claustrophobia and unease. Cheng’s compositions are full of atmospheric, fantastical scenes. Tender ones, too, like Nude femme (2022), rendered in a dusty rose and muted turquoise, the gaze of said femme beseeching us to look with care.

Born in Wuhan, Cheng began her artistic studies at Tsinghua University’s Academy of Arts and Design in Beijing. She studied sculpture but always had an eye for painting. The university’s painting department, which emphasized Social Realism, dissatisfied her. Once she graduated, she left sculpture behind and moved on to painting. “I only care about what happens within the canvas, what kind of space I want to create within the frame,” explains Cheng. “With sculpture, it’s really about the three-dimensional space. I understood that’s not really my strength.”

She enrolled at the Maryland Institute of Art, a revelatory period. “I wanted to be a sponge, ” says Cheng. “I wanted to say goodbye to everything I did before arriving in Maryland. I quickly realized I was very interested in, and wanted to make paintings of people.” She encountered works by minimalist and abstract painters like Agnes Martin, Frank Stella, and Joseph Albers. Albers greatly influenced Cheng’s practice, particularly his ability to infuse simple forms and shapes with powerful emotions through color. Cheng’s style evolved further when she moved to Amsterdam for a residency at The Rijksakademie. While there, she studied 17th century Dutch and 18th century Flemish painting. This exposure to Old Masters challenged her to think about her craftsmanship.

The artist has always been extremely sensitive to places. “How I organize my life and my studio is really central to my work as well,” says Cheng. Having a space of her own is important, one that nurtures her and allows her to feel at ease. “I realized every time I moved to a new city, the first three months, I couldn’t paint. I don’t know how to make the transition. I always need months to process the information. I always need time to get used to my studio and digest what I’ve seen, experienced, and then I can make something out of it.”

Periods of rest in one’s practice can be terrifying. “I always have this pressure of being productive,” Cheng tells me. “I try to convince myself that being productive doesn’t necessarily mean I make a painting. But it’s very hard. After having a show, finishing a bigger body of work, I need to take a lot of time off.”

There’s a dialogue that occurs between her paintings and the places where she resides. Cheng currently lives in Paris and has been based there for nearly nine years. “I think the art that I see in different places really teaches me a lot about painting,” she remarks. “I like to go to the Musée Picasso and the Musée d’Orsay. I enjoy looking at paintings. When I look at them, I feel like I’m talking to the great masters.”

“There’s something about Paris [where] I feel I am in a fantasy world,” Cheng says, taken by the city’s light, which to her “looks different in every season.” She’s drawn to Parisian nightlife. “There’s a cafe close to my home called Aux Folies. There’s so much energy, and it’s so alive at night. I pass by, and I want to paint [it]. It’s a way for me to connect with the modern painters I admire.”