| Looking at my daughter’s impressive collection of toys, I was reminded of the only toy I had while growing up. It was a ball. A small, fist-sized ball with a wavy pattern. That small ball played an instrumental role when I first learned how to paint. I painted it white and used it as a subject for still-life sketches. That and a small porcelain Mao statue, a lucky charm of sorts, were my only two still-life subjects. The college entrance exam officer was so moved by the thick pile of sketches I had of the ball and the Mao statue that he made an exception and allowed me to take the college exam. Thus, from Xinjiang to Beijing, Beijing to Berlin, and then from Berlin to finally settling down here in the United States, 30 years have passed. Once in a while that small ball would reappear in my consciousness. It seemed to have featured in many of my life stories. I threw the old and torn ball in the river the morning I left my hometown. It sank slowly into the raging river reflected deep in my eyes. | 
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Qin Feng
Qin Feng, Limits of Growth. Installation shot, location: Museum of Contemporary Art Beijing. Courtesy of the artist.Looking at my daughter’s impressive collection of toys, I was reminded of the only toy I had while growing up. It was a ball. A small, fist-sized ball with a wavy pattern. That small ball played an instrumental role when I first learned how to paint. I painted it white and used it as a subject for still-life sketches. That and a small porcelain Mao statue, a lucky charm of sorts, were my only two still-life subjects. The college entrance exam officer was so moved by the thick pile of sketches I had of the ball and the Mao statue that he made an exception and allowed me to take the college exam. Thus, from Xinjiang to Beijing, Beijing to Berlin, and then from Berlin to finally settling down here in the United States, 30 years have passed. Once in a while that small ball would reappear in my consciousness. It seemed to have featured in many of my life stories. I threw the old and torn ball in the river the morning I left my hometown. It sank slowly into the raging river reflected deep in my eyes.
Up to 2005’s God’s Sifter, dozens of the works that I have done have all reflected themes from the extensive hometown of mine, days spent on the horseback, roaming the steppe. Chinese Han and Qin dynasties’ cultural legacy (minimalism), German rational thinking and pride (expressionism), and American impulse and intensity (formalism) have all had influence on my work. My interest in exploring intellectual and spiritual spaces, and my intention in understanding them through expressive language, have further contributed to my effort in working toward an alternative art form that encompasses both multicultural/ethnic as well as contemporary art and new media languages.
The Civilization Landscape series is an example of this. It is near completion and consists of 100 ink books (“album leaves”) intending to give an overview of the development of civilizations. The basic conceptual framework includes pre-historic, Mayan, Babylon, Asian, and modern civilizations, and my own invention of the pre-pre-historic and futuristic civilizations. By using modern art form and mediums to re-present historic landscapes, my goal is to provide an alternative to the existing history and historic texts that require constant corrections. By using video, digital art, sound, installation, performance, and other means and mediums to integrate aesthetics and language, I hope to create an art form with dual emphases on rich historical content as well as contemporary art characteristics.
The West Wind East Water series is another example. The major medium of the series is oil painting and multimedia. The theme originates from the region where I grew up, its people, its land, and my life experiences.
Since ancient times,
The spring wind does not blow past the Jade Gate at the frontier pass, its back against sand dunes, facing endless sky.
Four seasons turn around in one day,
Not knowing that in the world yonder ten years have gone by.Now, after hundreds of years of isolation, we are enjoying various modes of communication between China and the West.
Wind from the West and water from the East repel the spring chill.
Periodic rainfall spreads warmth amid the autumn frost.
The human world, wet with sweet dew, is left behind by ancient wheels on new paths carrying dreams far, far away.
Therefore, I am using purely symbolic expressions to represent the integration between China and the West and the kind of human and landscape pictured in an ancient Chinese poem, “Sky and land stretch without end. Spring breezes, bending down the steppe-grass, reveal flocks of roaming cattle and sheep.”This expression represents the vast, harsh natural world of my homeland, its tragic and brilliant history, and the murky and inexplicable reality of today. Here, then, in one brush stroke, is a soulful cry out to heaven, a jab, an ax swing splitting traditions asunder, and a representation of the tangled web of human emotions.
