An adventure journey with art exhibitions in uninhabited regions...artist Qin Chong’s endeavors are always full of “stories” that ignite an irresistible curiosity to delve deeper. What happens when these two elements converge: driving toward uncharted destinations while simultaneously embarking on a series of new creations? This was precisely the essence of Qin Chong’s solo road trip summer 2023 through China, an art project that took ‘journey’ in its method and its theme.Unlike his works created in studios or exhibition spaces, these new pieces were born, existed, and eventually disappeared without an audience from the art world present. Yet, paradoxically, this absence seemed to imbue them with a silent power, enhancing their intrigue.

Why would an artist, used to a stable creative environment, suddenly decide to embark on a solo road trip for the purpose of creation? The journey itself posed numerous challenges with its complex conditions and unforeseen events, how could one think of conceptualizing and producing art along the way? Well, Qin Chong has always prioritized the most effective medium for expressing his ideas, never shying away from difficulty. His art often involves large-scale “projects” requiring significant manpower and resources. How, then, did he manage to accomplish all this alone?

Shortly after this journey, Qin Chong left Beijing towards Berlin due to work commitments, leaving no opportunity for a detailed discussion. We immediately arranged a personal interview after his return to Beijing. Although more than half a year had passed, as we spoke about the experiences of the trip and the moments that sparked his creative drive, Qin Chong seemed transported back to those scenes, his passion rekindled by the vivid memories of those moments.

◎Map of the travelling route and the locations of Qin Chong’s artworks

Question (Ma): Qin Chong, in 2023, you embarked on a long solo road trip. With just one vehicle, you traveled alone from mid-June to early September, covering over 20,000 kilometers across most of China. Starting in Beijing, your journey passed through Kaifeng in Henan, Anhui, Jiangsu, Hunan, Hubei, Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan, continuing to Tibet and Xinjiang, crossing the Taklamakan Desert and Lop Nor, and finally returning to Beijing via Inner Mongolia. This nearly three-month-long journey resulted in a series of profound artworks. Such a method of extended travel, crossing vast spaces, defies the conventional perception of you as an artist and seems more akin to the fieldwork of an anthropologist. It’s rare not only among artists but also a first for you. What motivated you to undertake such a challenging journey at this time?

Answer (Qin Chong): The idea of leaving behind my usual work environment to create outdoors has been with me for a long time. However, the decisive moment that led me to step out of my studio for this extensive journey was the experience of the past three years of the pandemic. This rare global crisis impacted nearly everyone in the world. In an instant, it felt like we were transported back to the yesterdays - freedom vanished almost overnight. The freedom of global movement was replaced by self-imposed lockdowns, driven by fear, vigilance, and measures to contain the virus.

Under the guise of “protection” individual rights and vitality were curbed. Space for personal activity shrank - first through national borders, then between cities, and eventually down to villages, homes, and even rooms.

In this atmosphere, what was suppressed wasn’t just physical movement but above all the human spirit, rationality, and the innate urge to express oneself and connect with nature. The longer human nature is suppressed, the more it seeks release. Some people may respond with hysteria or vent through language and physical aggression. As for me, I chose to channel these repressed emotions into artistic creation.

During the pandemic, I created two works, STUCK (2021) and 7 + 3 (2022), both of which addressed the spatial restrictions imposed on individuals. The first piece, STUCK, was inspired by the physical and symbolic constraints of the time. With borders closed and movements restricted, even mouths covered by N95 masks, art exhibitions, which should have been rare opportunities for self-expression, imposed their own limitations. I was told that my artwork could not exceed 50 × 50 cm. This restriction hit suppressed emotions. The challenge of expressing my feelings and ideas as fully as possible within such tiny confines became the driving force behind the creation.

◎STUCK installation view / 26 Mar 2021 Yuan Dian Art Museum, Beijing

the final piece involved taking a block of frozen earth (50 × 50 × 180 cm) from the lawn in my yard and placing it in the exhibition. The dimensions of this block mirrored the space occupied by a single person on Earth. The small patch of green grass on top retained traces of its original vitality and decay, symbolizing an understanding of our current survival conditions and existential reality.

The second work was created in July 2022 during my return to China from Berlin to Shanghai. Due to quarantine policies at the time, I was taken directly from Pudong Airport in a sealed van to a quarantine hotel in Shanghai. Confined to one single hotel room for 10 days, I vividly experienced the daily changes in my emotional state, the gradual amplification of my feelings. It was during this time that I created the performance art piece 7 + 3.

◎‘7 + 3’performance / 21-31 July 2022 Room 1803, Royal Century Hotel, Shanghai

Being trapped in an extremely limited space was an experience many people shared during the pandemic. In such circumstances, I couldn’t ignore the profound impact of the reality we were living in, and I responded through my work.

When the pandemic ended in 2023 and society reopened, pent-up emotions needed urgent release. For me, after enduring prolonged restrictions, the pressing need was to leave and let go, to escape the noisy cities and the pathological world. Against this backdrop, the desire for aimless solitary travel intertwined with the need to break free from the studio, leading me to prepare for this journey.

Q: That’s very true. After this global pandemic, we have indeed entered an era vastly different from before, often referred to as the “post-pandemic era.” Within this context, your journey holds an extraordinary significance. However, you mentioned earlier that the idea of completely leaving the studio to create art during travel had been on your mind for a long time. When did this idea first emerge?

A: The idea of a long journey has its root back in 1990. At the time, I had just graduated, and together with two classmates I planned to cycle from Beijing to Xinjiang. We didn’t set out with a carefully thought-out plan, rather in impulsive youthful passion. However, due to various reasons, the trip never happened. This unfinished journey became like a dormant seed in my heart, a life experience that needed to be completed but had never begun. Thirty years later, in the post-pandemic era, this long-held wish was rekindled and finally realized as a solo road trip with just me and my car, while artworks created during this independent journey naturally became solo exhibitions.

The concept of leaving the studio to create outdoors had already appeared in other artworks: I experimented with creating in unfamiliar environments, using the conditions and resources available at the time. For example, in 2001, I created BRIDGE, my first outdoor artwork. This piece was created in the small town of Cismar, on the Baltic coast in northern Germany, on the bridge that connects the church with the graveyard. All towns in Europe have at least one thing in common: there is always a church and a cemetery nearby. Generations of villagers live on this land, forming an endless cycle of life. Soon after a child’s birth, the locals go to church for baptism, to pray for peace. When the children become adults, they go to church for marriage, to pray for blessings. And for burial they bring the dead to the graveyard nearby, where they shall rest in peace.

◎BRIDGE outdoor installation / 2001 Cismar on the Baltic Sea, Northern Germany

At the time, I planned to create a series of outdoor works in four different locations. After completing BRIDGE in 2001, I intended to create another piece 2002 during my residency in Solothurn, Switzerland. Solothurn is an ancient city with a diameter of about two kilometers within the old city walls, where you can explore the entire town on foot. It is rich in humanistic charm and poetic beauty. However, this plan could not be realized in 2002. It wasn’t until 2019 that I completed an outdoor installation called HORIZON in the virgin forests of Changbai Mountain. Unfortunately, the worldwide outbreak of the pandemic in 2020 interrupted these plans once again.

Finally, in 2023, I completed CULTURE VEINS in Huang Village, Anhui. This creation brought my previously interrupted plans to life again in the context of a new era.

◎HORIZON outdoor installation 16 Sep 2019 Changbai Mountain, Swan Peak Mountain Range Virgin Forest, Jilin

Q: During your journey, the uncertainties faced by both the era and individuals seemed even more pronounced. CULTURE VEINS was created against such a backdrop. How did you decide on Huang Village in Yi County, Anhui, as the location for this artwork?

A: In the post-pandemic era, I felt an uncontrollable and urgent need for release, a drive that could not be fulfilled through meticulously planned routes or carefully designed project proposals. As a result, when starting my journey, I had no concrete creative plan. When I arrived in Anhui, the exact location and approach were decided spontaneously. Huang Village, this ancient settlement in Yi County was an inspiration.

Today, with rapid urbanization and modernization, many cultural relics have been transformed into tourist attractions or commercial spectacles. Yet Huang Village has retained its rich historical architecture and profound cultural atmosphere, largely untouched by excessive development or commercialization. Its well-preserved Hui-style buildings and distinctive local cultural features left a deep impression on me.

The history, traditions, and evolution of Huang Village reflect the characteristics of clan-based societies in China. The village’s history dates back to the Song Dynasty, it was formed by the Huang family lineage. Over centuries, through farming, scholarly pursuits, civil service exams and commerce, Huang Village grew from a small settlement into a place steeped in historical and cultural significance. It has produced many notable figures, including Huang Shiling, a renowned seal carver from the late Qing Dynasty. The ancestral halls, courtyards, and residential buildings all bear witness to the rise and fall, glory, and continuity of the thousand years of this Huang family.

Cultural heritage is often regarded as a historical narrative, with emphasis placed on documented records. People are accustomed to tracing cultural continuity through family genealogies, local chronicles, and historical texts. However, the deepest cultural roots do not lie in museums, nor in hollow words but in the lives of the people on this land and in the buildings and environments they inhabit. The grey tiles and white walls among the mountains and waters, the Hui-style artifacts, rural lifestyle, their dialects and customs, they are the most indelible carriers of cultural heritage.

When immersed in such a setting, the awareness of their cultural lineage became especially vivid for me. In Huang Village, the gap between cultural history, art and daily life feels much smaller than one might imagine. Why does our connection to our ancestors and cultural traditions seems so distant? In fact, it isn’t! In Huang Village, locals live in centuries-old Hui-style buildings and have artifacts imbued with historical significance in daily use. They have not only preserved these cultural treasures but also enjoy a lifestyle that remains intimately connected to their cultural roots.

As an artist and a contemporary urbanite, I was deeply moved by this connection between people and history, the flow of cultural lineage within regional life. This inspired a creative impulse within me, to use my art to express this connection between people and history and the living flow of cultural roots in daily life.

◎28 June 2023 Huang Cun, Biyang Town, Yi County, Anhui

Q: The artwork CULTURE VEINS uses the transparency of water to remind both the people living there and visitors who view it merely as a piece of land-art, of our profound and existential connection with regional culture and heritage. This site-specific approach to cultural vitality is something that cultural preservation alone cannot achieve. It reminds me of a case in the 1990s when an American museum relocated and meticulously reconstructed an entire Qing-era Hui-style building overseas. Few realized that such exhibitions and preservation, stripped of their original context, actually sever the cultural lineage they aim to preserve. No matter how precise the reconstruction, it remains merely a “relic” or a ruin of the past. By contrast, artists see the flow of life and its connection to the present in cultural heritage. However, for an artist accustomed to a studio environment, creating in an unfamiliar setting must come with many practical challenges. Surely the process was not entirely smooth?

A: On the contrary, the execution of this artwork went remarkably smoothly, and I was deeply touched by the villagers’ enthusiasm for art and culture. Before starting the project, I first visited the head of the village to introduce myself and share my ideas. To my surprise, not only were they very welcoming after hearing about the concept, but they also expressed a strong desire for artistic creation to invigorate the cultural life of the village. They hoped it would bring more cultural exchange and external attention to their community. The village secretary was also highly receptive to the idea of bringing art into the village and immediately helped coordinate with the residents of the alley where the artwork was to be realized.

During the creative process, the locals were incredibly kind. They brought me food and drinks and even offered practical assistance with the work itself. When the piece was completed, the village invited local cultural leaders to come and view it and wished the artwork to remain in place for as long as possible.

◎CULTURE VEINS outdoor installation / 28 June 2023 Huang Cun, Biyang Town, Yi County, Anhui

◎From left to right：Fu Yue(Intangible cultural heritage) Liu Bo(Planner)Wang Chengyuan(Painter)Sun Fuchang(Village secretary)Qin Chong(Artist)Geng Geng(Artist)Wen Yongfeng(Writer)Wang lin(Photographer)

Q: Although this first artwork only existed for about ten days, with viewers limited to local villagers and cultural figures rather than the large urban exhibition crowds, it seemed to possess greater vitality. Such art feels as if it naturally grows from its cultural roots, aligning with the organic essence of what art should be. Your second piece, SACRED STONES, appears to have been created with even more spontaneity. Under what circumstances did you form this idea?

A: The smooth execution of the work in Huang Village boosted my confidence in plans I initially had little certainty about. SACRED STONES was born out of reflections and impressions during my journey through Tibet. Entering Tibet, I encountered a culture and landscape that were entirely new to me, offering an unparalleled experience.

In Lhasa and Shigatse, I visited many Tibetan Buddhist monasteries I had never seen before and encountered a variety of pilgrims, some riding bicycles, some pulling carts, and others prostrating themselves with long kowtows along their pilgrimage paths. Their journeys often lasted an incredible length of time. The vast wilderness, the silent plateau, and the devout religious culture left a profound impact on me.

As I drove westward, the scenery outside my car window blurred past like fleeting images, transforming into fragmented pieces of information that collided in my mind, creating a resonating and swirling chaos. In those moments, nature, the cosmos, time, civilization, religion, humanity, history, and my own personal existence all seemed to converge and confront me simultaneously. Standing amidst this primitive natural landscape and ancient religious culture, I found myself asking: What am I, as an individual, seeking by leaving behind the bustling metropolis for this vast wilderness? What am I hoping to achieve? What are my ideals and aspirations? Meanwhile, in the dimly lit temples, among the towering piles of scriptures and the monks chanting their prayers, what are they seeking? And as humanity as a whole, what is it that we truly pursue? What do we genuinely desire?

These questions tumbled through my mind like fragmented dreams, leaping without order, flashing uncontrollably like a slideshow in fast-forward. I began to wonder: How can I converse with this vast, ancient world? Gazing at the striking rocky landscapes flanking me, traversing the barren Gobi deserts devoid of human life, I picked up an unassuming stone and painted it gold. In that moment, I infused the stone with all the reflections and insights of my recent days. Later, passing through Lop Nor in the Tarim Bassin in Xinjiang, I created SACRED STONES No. 2.

◎SACRED STONES outdoor installation / 27 July 2023 No Man's Land south of Highway 219, Depo Cholle, Saga County, Tibet

Q: This feels like a metaphor for the origin and evolution of human civilization - a sacred beginning as well as every significant turning point start from an unassuming act, like a stone thrown into a lake, creating ripples. For instance, the earliest symbols of Buddhism were abstract ones like the Bodhi tree or the Dharma wheel. Only later came stupas, statues, scriptures, sects, and the myriad paths of practice. Similarly, your simple artistic act - an impromptu creation of painting one of countless stones in the wilderness gold - transformed the entire landscape and its meaning. The formation of a ‘Sacred Stone’ mirrors how culture begins with a fundamental question and unfolds into a long process of shaping and evolution. An accidental gesture pierces through the boundaries of humanity and nature, tradition and modernity, religion and the secular, the smallness of the self, and the vastness of the cosmos. Was your work TEARDROPS, created in the Taklamakan Desert, also inspired by such serendipitous collisions and sparks?

A: My experiences in the Tibetan plateau brought a shift in my approach to presenting my works. I abandoned deliberate intentions and instead let the creations find their natural place. The third piece, TEARDROPS, when passing the Taklamakan Desert, emerged with a similar sense of serendipity.

The Taklamakan is China’s largest desert, located at the heart of one of the world’s driest regions. When I first arrived, I had no concrete concept or plan for the artwork, only the certainty that it would be born amidst the sands and might involve water as a medium.

From the moment I entered the desert, I began searching for the right location. While wandering alone in the vast expanse, I stumbled upon a unique terrain: layers stretching outward like a dried riverbed. Standing nearby was a lone, nearly dead poplar tree, its roots exposed to the air. It was the only tree in this barren landscape. At that moment, I decided that this ancient riverbed would be the stage for TEARDROPS.

◎6 Aug 2023 Taklamakan Desert, Xinjiang

Later, as I researched, I learned that the Taklamakan, now known as the “Land of Death,” was not always this desolate. Beyond the tectonic shifts that reshaped it, this desert was once part of the ancient Tethys Sea. Its sands began to form only four to five million years ago. Even as recently as one millennium ago, this region was crisscrossed by rivers, dotted with thriving cities, and teeming with life, until all of it was buried by shifting sands. The dried riverbed and the solitary poplar seemed to bear witness to these countless cycles of life spanning millennia.

◎TEARDROPS outdoor installation / 6 Aug 2023 Taklamakan Desert, Xinjiang

Creating TEARDROPS in such a place was a stroke of fortune, and I count myself equally fortunate to have encountered this ancient riverbed in the vast desert, an encounter across millennia of time. I settled there and began bringing my vision to life.

Standing in this seemingly lifeless land, gazing at the parched riverbed, I imagined a single droplet of water, the source of all life, reappearing here after eons of absence. I felt an overwhelming mix of sorrow and joy, emotionally moved by the endless stories of time and history carried by this land.

Q: The desert and the poplar tree hold a unique cultural significance tied to survival in the western regions of China. The appearance of a droplet of water not only creates a desert marvel but also imbues the setting with an immense sense of time, space, and life. It connects the transformations of the environment over millennia with a deeply human concern for existence.

Looking at these three works together, they seem to reflect the three dimensions of humanistic thought: CULTURE VEINS explores how we relate to our cultural roots, bridging the present with our traditions; SACRED STONES probes humanity’s questions about nature, religion, and civilization; while TEARDROPS broadens the scope to encompass a vast temporal and spatial scale, transcending anthropocentrism to explore nature and life itself.

Such creations, however, require the artist to immerse themselves in nature, away from cities. This challenges not only the artist’s ability to wield their language of expression but also their outdoor survival and adaptability. These works bring freshness and openness to life’s vitality but also place the artist in unpredictable and potentially dangerous situations. Along this journey, did you encounter particularly perilous moments? What challenges and dangers does this outdoor working method bring?

◎Highway 219, Depo Cholle, Saga County, Tibet

A: Before setting out, I considered many scenarios, and my family and friends expressed concerns about the challenges of traveling alone over long distances. I joked, “If nothing happens, what stories would I have to tell? It’s the challenges that make life storied.” Indeed, the journey presented many challenges and even dangers, but it also brought unprecedented beauty and profound experiences. Despite thorough preparations, unexpected situations are inevitable.

Before creating CULTURE VEINS in Anhui, I was stranded in the mountains for several days due to heavy rain. Driving from Chengdu to Tibet, I experienced an abrupt altitude change, from 500 meters in Chengdu to 4,300 meters on the plateau in just a few hours. At dusk, I hired a Tibetan guide to take me deep into the mountains for another overnight stay in rough nature. Immersed in the vast, silent environment, I felt a profound solitude. Clouds hung low, and as night fell, I found myself alone in pitch darkness, with my sensations and thoughts centering on the self, as if “I was the entire world.”

However, around 2 a.m., I woke up feeling unwell, tightness in my chest, a headache, and difficulty in breathing. I realized I was experiencing altitude sickness. Without enough oxygen supply in the car, my oxygen level had dropped to 72. I knew staying asleep could be life-threatening. There were no accessible roads, making self-rescue impossible. Thankfully, I had left my guide’s number before entering the mountains, and called him. Forty minutes later, the guide arrived in the mid of the night on a motorbike and transported me to a safer altitude where I could recover. By morning, I resumed my journey westward.

While crossing the Seriya Lekh Pass en route to Kashgar, at an altitude of about 5,000 meters, I encountered snow and thick fog with visibility reduced to under 10 meters. My car’s oil pan was damaged by falling rocks, causing an oil leak and engine failure. Stepping out to check the vehicle, I realized I was still wearing shorts. Though it was 9 p.m. and not fully dark, temperatures had already plummeted.

About 20 minutes later, a construction truck passed by. The driver called for roadside assistance, but the rescue center informed us that the mountain road was closed after 9 p.m., and it would take five hours to reach my location. Left with no choice, I spent a freezing, sleepless night atop the mountain, awaiting help the following morning.

◎Lop Nor, Tarim Basin, Xinjiang

◎No Man's Land, Tibet

◎Seriyak Darshan, Tibet

A week later, in early August, I had an unforgettable experience in the Taklamakan Desert. Temperatures soared above 45°C during the day, and the conditions were harsh. Yet, to complete TEARDROPS, I stayed in the desert for four days, pushing my physical limits. My lips cracked from the dryness, but I persevered, channeling my sweat and effort into the work, leaving a permanent mark on that expanse of sand.

Q: I’ve noticed that your three works differ from other installations in that they aren’t “created” in the sense of constructing something from nothing using materials. Instead, they are grounded in existing nature or cultural traditions, possessing an innate sense of wholeness. If we compare them to easel paintings, the profound historical and cultural context, as well as the awe-inspiring natural environment, serve as the “canvas” and underlying texture of the work, becoming an integral part of it. For those of us living in cities, this connection to nature and ancient cultural traditions is often obscured.

A: In artistic creation, the weight of a work often stems from its chosen cultural context, environment, spatial setting, and the media utilized, along with the cultural significance these elements carry. These components collectively infuse the work with depth and power. However, what truly breathes life into a piece is the artist’s deep understanding of these media and their precise application.When an artist can accurately convey their thoughts through the medium, the work resonates strongly with its audience, revealing a unique artistic allure. This resonance isn’t simply about the physical elements but about bridging the obscured connections between humanity, nature, and cultural heritage, connections that are often neglected in the bustle of urban life. It’s through rediscovering and rearticulating these links that a work transcends its physical form and speaks to something profoundly universal.

Interview - Ma Shaowan / 10 April 2024

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