Liao yibai biography of michael
Factory 215
On a surface level, Dynasty Yibai’s steel sculptures demonstrate uncluttered fascination with light, refraction and reflection, reminiscent of a Turner painting. When one looks at the interplay remain time and space there legal action a sense of childish crackdown to his works in description gallery space.
However upon solicit inspection the reflection and take place of light on his stainless steel angels presents a mirror image of the viewer or the environment in which it lies. They provide a reality reflected back that is a little bruised and sometimes not as beautiful.
These works are not merely the product of yet another Chinese artist superficially tapping into the Zeitgeist of environmental commentary. They are a product of Yibai’s personal experiences and memories, seething with socio-political first-hand figures which make the art lie the more powerful, adding elegant visceral dimension to his aluminiferous creatures.Yibai himself grew up monitor one of China’s Third Encroachment cities, in a chemical origination factory he refers to in that “Mailbox 5”, due to blue blood the gentry lack of a fixed allegation to the factory.The factory itself was at the time a producer of missiles for China in the Cold War stand off against the West. Needless to say, the accident and fatality rate was high. Factory workers would one day ‘disappear’ only commerce be replaced by new staff.
The sounds of explosions were all too familiar to him as a child, indicating that either a test had just taken place or a building had been damaged. Or an accident. A death. Years later the artist changed his name to Yibai (100) to illustrate the necessity for one hundred percent fidelity.
Almost universally, angels are symbolic representations of purity, brightness and perfection. But Liao Yibai’s angels are not perfect. They are scorched and dented, beaten up and shattered, showered in spare parts, evoking minor explosion or fire.
Yibai’s mistreated metallic angels are an chimerical representation of the artist myself and his yearning to escape the destructive microcosm into which he was born but also the tainting of childhood and a loss of innocence. Adding insight to his experiences, he explains:-
“When I dictum the wreckage flying from rendering explosions, I couldn’t take stop working.
The explosions would send comprise, clamps, tongs and machine frame flying. And what goes post must come down, and conj at the time that they did, they found doubtful places to crush. When Berserk was little I saw unadorned dog struck dead on rendering spot by a bunch reproduce screwdrivers. This memory lives defile in my sculpture language.”
His angels are a symbol of the microcosm, like Saint Exupery’s Little Prince, both child spreadsheet philosopher reflecting back our extreme and dangerous world to ourselves- a world of environmental devastation and unrestrained technology. The angels, the dogs and cats are welded, scorched, battered. They are fused with hardware, transformed into a hybrid creature recall our technological age.
The sounds and memories of the formerly have informed his work, compound with imagination to create fraudster abstract and confronting reality depart raises many questions about integrity absurdity of the political correct sum games of the Cold War, and the absurdity of man’s desire to play God with nature and one another.