Subscribe to our newsletter

     By signing up, you agree to our Terms Of Use.


    • About Us
    • |
    • Contribute
    • |
    • Contact Us
    • |
    • Sitemap

    Mindful Indulgence: Lu Yang’s Art as Spiritual Entertainment

    The new media artist reflects on religion, the brain, and life in the virtual realm.

    “I don’t like being called an artist — I’m more like an entertainer,” says Lu Yang. It’s a claim that might seem disingenuous coming from most people with as many art world successes as this 33-year-old from Shanghai has notched, but in her case, it rings true.

    Maybe this attitude goes back to her time as a student in the New Media Department of the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou — now called the School of Intermedia Art — known for minting some of the most active and imaginative artists to come out of China in the post-internet age. Lu credits program director Zhang Peili — one of China’s first video artists — and her “guru,” Taiwan-born sound artist and curator Yao Dajuin, for their openness to new frontiers and ambivalence toward traditional art media as key to her formative years. “They didn’t really teach us a lot about art — I don’t think art can be taught,” Lu explains. “They just said, ‘Do whatever you want; you’re the best.’”

    This confidence has clearly carried over to Lu’s more recent works, 3-D-animated videos like 2013’s “Uterus Man” and 2015’s “LuYang Delusional Mandala” that cheerfully shred social, sexual, and religious taboos, making fun out of the grotesque and the uncanny. “Encephalon Heaven,” her latest solo show at the M WOODS museum in Beijing’s 798 art district, includes these two works along with a trio of newly commissioned pieces that continue the reluctant artist’s careful, often joyful dissection of humanity in our fractured digital age.

    “Encephalon Heaven” is a very loud, very bright affair. The centerpiece is a giant altar flanked by four gods of Lu’s creation. One looks like a mixture between blue-skinned Shiva and skull-wreathed Kali; another resembles Yecha, the fierce Buddhist guardian deity.

    Titled “Electromagnetic Brainology,” this towering shrine is maybe the clearest distillation of Lu’s particular fusion of ritual depth with sardonic levity: Her four demigods prance together in meticulously coordinated dance sequences based on Japanese animation program MikuMikuDance, rendered in the style of a video game title screen through a collaboration with Beijing motion tracking company Noitom and soundtracked in collaboration with celebrated J-pop producers Invisible Manners.

    “That’s the one quite new medium I use in this show — we collaborated on all the characters’ movements,” Lu says of her work with Noitom. Another first for her in this show is an augmented reality work in a second-floor gallery space: The viewer kneels at the kind of cushioned altar one finds at any Buddhist temple, opens a specially created iPad app, and points the camera at a mandala to see a virtual deity arise and begin a ritual dance on the screen. “This is very simple technology; I don’t think it’s new media,” she says. “But if you use it in an original way, there are some interesting ideas inside.”

    Elsewhere, “Uterus Man” plays on loop, accompanied by a half dozen television screens blaring other Lu hits like 2014’s “Cancer Baby,” and even an arcade-style “Uterus Man” video game console. The walls are hung with so much neon that M WOODS’ staff was worried the show might crash a power grid. Most of the work is indeed digital, vaporous, and light, but the show is not entirely untethered from the physical world — one room is filled with holograms projected in heavy resin blocks that took three people apiece to mount.

    A few days before “Encephalon Heaven” opened at the end of October, Lu shared her thoughts on art, entertainment, spirituality, and why neuroscience is like a ghost story. The interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

    There are some interesting pan-Asian elements in this exhibition, like the pantheon of four gods you’ve created, drawing on traditions from India and China. How did you become interested in these religious topics?

    Lu Yang: It’s just an interest, like what kind of music you like. For me, religion is a very important part of life; it helps me to think about or know about this world. You can’t say the world is exactly like what you see — you have to use some background knowledge from other religions. Once you read through all the religions, you can tell which fits you, or which you think is right. I really agree with a lot of points in some religions, especially Buddhism and its ideas about reincarnation and suffering. In Buddhism, they say there are eight different kinds of suffering — whether you’re happy or you’re mad or whatever emotion you have, it’s all painful.

    Do you see any parallels between your work and religious descriptions of reality? For example, both Hindu and Buddhist philosophies contain the idea that the reality we perceive is illusory, a sort of virtual projection.

    Lu Yang: Yeah, I’m creating a fictional world in which I can place myself and play around. When I walk out the door, I feel that I’m actually going into the real world. But I also believe, in a Buddhist way, that you can live your entire life, even up to the point that you die, and not actually experience the real world.

    One aspect of 3-D video that you’ve said appeals to you is that it gives you the ability to create a virtual version of yourself and control or change elements of your identity, such as gender. What role does gender play in your recent work?

    Lu Yang: Lots of people think that “Uterus Man” is a feminist work, but actually I just use it to make fun of people. I think gender only exists when lots of people are together. In society, you can tell this is a guy, this is a woman, or this is an asexual, whatever. But mostly, humans must face themselves, alone. During that time, you must have your own world. Gender only exists in the [context of] society.

    How does this concept relate to the internet, where people can create their own online personas, shut off interactions in the real world, and live in a cyber version of themselves?

    Lu Yang: I think on the surface, this is more suitable for me. Most people don’t know if I’m a girl or boy. They just think, “This is someone who created this thing.” They don’t even think about it as something made by a human — they just think it’s a video. Most of the time when people see my work over the internet, they’re not necessarily using my gender as a first basis from which to tag my work. Mostly [these tags] are from Western countries. I think Western people always like to put tags on something when they first see it — like this is what, this is what, this is a Chinese artist, this is feminist.

    Chinese curators don’t feel my work is feminist or whatever; they just know I’m a female, and they always invite me to female artist group shows, which is very funny. I say no, or I just ignore it. I think to separate by gender is quite stupid. Because you haven’t seen the work. Why do you think my work is talking about female [issues]?

    How do you interact with your audience? Is it mostly online?

    Lu Yang: I upload my works to Vimeo, and I can see how many people and from which countries view my work. The U.S. is No. 1, and Japan is No. 2. Because of the Chinese government, Chinese people are No. 6 in terms of audience. I think more people see my work online than in real life. And I think this is a very good thing for artists now; they don’t need to spend as much energy on socializing.

    One new video in this latest exhibition, “TMS Exorcism,” has live actors but also incorporates some of your ideas about the parallels between religion and the brain. What inspired the video?

    Lu Yang: In brain science, they have a [method] called TMS: Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. You can use TMS to stop someone’s speech. So I started to think about whether you can use TMS to cure someone with Tourette’s syndrome. In early times, people used to think that people with Tourette’s had devils in them. So I used a TMS stick to make a cross, or a kind of magic stick, to stop this devil.

    A lot of things are [controlled by] the chemical elements in your brain. Sometimes you like to eat sweets, and sometimes you really don’t want to eat sweets; it’s just because the brain wants to. I think the brain is the control center of your whole body, and there’s another consciousness on top of your brain. I always think about this kind of question but never have the answer. But I’m more [likely to] believe people have a consciousness on top of the brain, and that’s what gets reincarnated.

    Do you do a lot of reading about brain chemistry?

    Lu Yang: I really like to read scientific studies about the brain. I think reading those kinds of books is like reading a ghost story or a crime story. Some people, their frontal lobe is very, very small, so they don’t fear anything; they can do everything. And if they kill someone, they don’t feel guilty. This is very interesting. In Christianity, God says everyone has original sin. But God also said that God created humans. Why did God create this kind of body? Why wouldn’t God create a perfect body? Something about this is very interesting to me.

    Translator: Greg Young.

    This is an original article by Radii and has been used with their permission. The article was first published here on Nov. 4, 2017, under the headline “Mindful Indulgence: Lu Yang’s Art as Spiritual Entertainment.”

    (Header image: A screenshot of the home page of Lu Yang’s website.)