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Qiu Min

Qiu Min: Are photography and video your primary mediums of creation now?

Jiawei Gong: My recent works have primarily focused on media art, including photography, video art, and immersive interactive art.

Qiu: How do you define immersive art?

Gong: Traditionally, graphics and images are created and displayed on a two-dimensional rectangular plane, capturing only partial and fragmented realities. In contrast, immersive images offer a comprehensive perspective, capturing not just a picture but an entire scene. They provide a complete 360-degree view in both horizontal and vertical directions, allowing the viewer to experience an all-encompassing visual environment. When these spherical images are projected on a flat surface, visual distortions occur at the edges, particularly at the top and bottom of the image. This is similar to unfolding a globe into a world map, where the images at the poles must be stretched to fit the rectangular map, rendering traditional focal perspective rules inapplicable.

Qiu: For a two-dimensional plane, the focal perspective developed since the Renaissance limits the field of view. Human vision without moving the eyes covers about 60 degrees, and with eye movement can extend to about 180 degrees. However, to represent a view exceeding 180 degrees, an artist must use curvilinear perspective to avoid distortion. I recall a Renaissance artist who painted the emperor visiting a church, depicting the floor tiles as curved. Similarly, M. C. Escher’s engravings use curvilinear perspective to show buildings refracted through crystal balls.

Gong: Yes, realistic painting primarily uses focal perspective. For example, parallel train tracks converge at a single point on the horizon, known as the vanishing point. One-point perspective uses one vanishing point, two-point perspective uses two, and three-point perspective can satisfy most realistic painting needs. However, traditional perspective rules cannot represent angles greater than 90-100 degrees. Curvilinear perspective, though explored in ancient Greek geometry and cartography, was not formalized until the Renaissance, when artists like Leonardo da Vinci began to explore it. Da Vinci observed that curvilinear perspective, which calculates the distortion of objects’ widths and heights, aligns more closely with human visual perception. For instance, imagine a cavalry passing in front of you from right to left. The riders directly in front of you will appear in actual size, while those moving further to the left and those approaching from the right both appear smaller as they get farther away, creating an arch-like distortion in the entire scene. This “spherical vision” corresponds to the method of curvilinear perspective.

Qiu: What inspired you to use curvilinear perspective in your work?

Gong: Today’s advanced technology means we no longer need Escher’s analytical skills to understand the logic of image mapping; computer software now offers hundreds of methods for spherical panorama projection. I chose curvilinear perspective and equirectangular mapping for artistic expression. The distorted lines and expanded spaces visually express the fluidity and relativity of time and space, while also creating an unfamiliar effect on familiar scenes, adding a surrealistic mystery. I graduated from the China Academy of Art, where I studied  oil painting. I moved to the United States in 1998, initially working in design before transitioning to academia, returning to China in 2021. My teaching and creative practices in both countries have been closely linked to technology. However, I am more interested in using technological means to achieve artistic expression than in the technology itself. For instance, early stereoscopic films required special glasses to create depth. Later, IMAX technology integrated larger curved screens, clearer images, and surround sound to enhance the immersive experience.

Qiu: Your mention of IMAX reminds me of Ang Lee’s 2016 film “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk,” shown in 120 frames per second 3D format, with only five theaters worldwide capable of screening it, including ones in Beijing and Shanghai. Friends who watched it in IMAX were very proud of the high ticket prices. When “Gemini Man” was released, there were more IMAX theaters. Ang Lee emphasized using advanced technology to aid artistic expression rather than showcasing technology itself, contrasting with Brecht’s alienation effect, which made audiences aware they were watching a play, while Ang Lee aims for total immersion. Similarly, the immersive British play “Sleep No More” at the McKinnon Hotel in Shanghai revolutionized traditional theater.

Gong: Mastering creative technology is often not difficult; the creativity itself is more important. When using technology, I remain cautious of fleeting trends. For instance, the early 2000s saw a boom in animation. Collaborating with domestic institutions, I returned to China annually and noticed many schools suddenly establishing animation programs. Friends invited me to join animation companies, promising government funding if I contributed my technical expertise. I expressed my concerns. In the West, animation programs have existed for decades but were never developed as a major field in such a frenzy as in China. After a few years, animation graduates had difficulty finding jobs, and my friend’s animation company eventually failed. Similarly, the recent hype around the metaverse and NFT digital collectibles saw a friend urging me to create NFTs, claiming success. I advised caution, suspecting the trend was unsustainable. Now, NFTs are rarely mentioned. Metaverse creator Mark Zuckerberg predicted a future where humans live simultaneously in physical and parallel virtual worlds, working, entertaining, socializing, and shopping in the metaverse. However, his vision hasn’t materialized, especially after the pandemic emphasized the appeal of physical interaction over virtual experiences. Meaningful creative activities cannot rely solely on new technologies or launching campaigns to be achieved. Although the metaverse has faded, its immersive technology will continue to evolve, particularly in gaming and film industries, where VR headsets provide immersive visuals and haptic suits simulate touch and movement. Technology brings us closer to realistic experiences, with costs decreasing over time.

Qiu: During your studies at the China Academy of Art, you specialized in oil painting. What led you to choose photography as your medium of expression?

Gong: My training in oil painting involved rigorous realistic techniques, but we leaned towards conceptual creation. Eventually, I felt traditional canvas painting couldn’t fully express my ideas, so I explored installation art and performance. After six years in design, I returned to academia and realized two-dimensional images couldn’t meet my conceptual needs. I wanted to depict real-time, physical time, leading me to animation and motion graphics, video, and interactive art. In 2008, panoramic photography was emerging, and I experimented with 180-degree panoramas, stitching them into a hexahedron, akin to immersive images. Marshall McLuhan said, “The medium is the extension of the body.” For me, technology extends artistic expression. My use of technology isn’t trend-driven but stems from an artistic need. I still create paintings alongside photography and video, embracing any method for artistic expression.

Qiu: Does your title “West Land/East Country” refer to the West and East?

Gong: Yes, specifically three cities in the U.S. and China where I’ve lived. “West Land” refers to Lubbock, Texas, a high-altitude, sparsely populated, flat, and desolate area reminiscent of Western films. My “Almost Home” series used traditional photography to capture its vast cotton fields but was unsuccessful in conveying the expansiveness of the space, leading me to panoramic photography. Texas’s desolation embodies a silent grandeur, making one feel small and exposed to immense natural forces, evoking a sublime experience.
“East Country” documents my hometown Hangzhou and my current residence Zhuhai. Hangzhou’s beauty starkly contrasts with Texas, appearing almost unreal. Zhuhai’s wild beauty, with its aggressive tropical vegetation, differs from Hangzhou’s gentle charm, like a delicate young girl.

Qiu: Your photographs mostly depict natural and man-made landscapes with few people.

Gong: I avoid including people to prevent the conveyance of specific information like gender, age, race, cultural background, social status, and era. I want to give viewers the freedom to interpret and imagine.

Qiu: In one of your films, a woman is shown brewing coffee, but only her torso and hands are visible, reducing her to an object.

Gong: In “Brew,” I minimize the emphasis on the character, treating her, the coffee pot, the sink, and the stove as still life objects. Using simple cinematic language, I aim to present the objecthood. The film lacks a clear narrative, with only a news broadcast providing temporal context. The film employs fixed camera positions with few compositional changes.

Qiu: In "Dear Theo," the title is borrowed from Van Gogh’s letters to his brother, isn't it? The content in your film is divided into three segments, which don't seem directly related to Van Gogh. Do you admire Van Gogh's defense of spirituality, and is this a tribute to him?

Gong: This short film was shot in three locations: the United States, Taiwan, and Hangzhou. It includes three segments: “Dharmar Teacher,” “Tiny Dancer,” and “Toy Soldier.” The film’s title does indeed borrow from how Van Gogh addressed his brother in his letters. Van Gogh is an artist I greatly admire. He was an idealist and a tragic hero. As a pastor, he tried his best to help impoverished coal miners, hoping to elevate them spiritually through religion, but it was difficult to change reality with his efforts alone. He lived in poverty all his life, selling only one painting while he was alive, and was entirely supported by his brother. Each of his letters to his brother began with “Dear Theo,” which served as an introduction to his inner artistic world and his entire outlook on life. I borrowed this phrase as the title of my film to sincerely express my artistic sentiments to the world, much like Van Gogh did.

Qiu: You went to the United States in 1998 and stayed there for over 20 years. Now that you’ve returned to China, has your mindset changed?

Gong: Recently, I removed many works from my website. After returning to China, I reorganized my website and found that I no longer liked some of the pieces, so I took them down. My mindset has indeed changed compared to the past. I was 30 when I went to the United States, and I stayed there for 23 years, spending nearly half my life there, so a change in mindset is inevitable. However, understanding a culture takes a long time. For example, when I first arrived in the United States, I worked at a design firm. There was an event called “March Madness,” similar to our themed events like “Golden October” or “National Day,” and I was tasked with creating an advertisement for it. Without much thought, I chose some exaggerated expressions of young people as the visual theme. Later, I found out that “March Madness” specifically refers to the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, where over 60 teams compete fiercely from mid-March to early April. Not having grown up in the United States, I was unaware of many implicit cultural references. Locals might bring up a reference during a conversation, and everyone would laugh, but I wouldn’t understand it at all. To truly understand a place’s culture and customs, you have to live there and immerse yourself in it. However, aside from these superficial cultural differences, there are many fundamental spiritual and essential elements that are cross-linguistic and cross-cultural, such as perceptions of time and space, understanding of history and memory, and definitions of cultural identity. I began to explore these issues in my work and pay attention to artists, including literary works, who delve into these themes.

Qiu: Is your “Madeleine Series” inspired by the memory of the madeleine cake in Proust’s “In Search of Lost Time”?

Gong: Yes, this work is related to memory. Memories are stored in our brains not like a complete recording on a computer hard drive, but as dispersed fragments of a scene. Each time we recall, we reconstruct the entire content from these fragments. During this reconstruction process, some original data is inevitably lost.

Qiu: Emotional memories cause different people to describe the same scene differently. Just like in photography, what is included in the frame affects the narrative bias of the final image. These choices are influenced by emotions.

Gong: Yes, and over time, more “original pixels” are lost, but this becomes a point of creative entry. Since we can’t restore the scene exactly or present the original context one-to-one, the charm of art lies in its ability to modify, subtract, add, and reorganize. Understanding this mystery, a creator won’t be confined by the reality or what is seen with the naked eye because we have imagination, which allows us to subtract, add, alter, and reorganize. Proust’s work is full of details, such as the feel of feet on the floor and the scent in the air, which inspire me greatly. It’s not about lofty ideals, but about the texture of life.
Years ago, I watched an interview with Duchamp. By then, he had stopped making art, saying he was tired of creating for the retina. So, he started playing chess. Duchamp truly practiced his artistic philosophy. If art is only for visual pleasure and becomes wall decoration, it’s a regretful situation. My current creative tendency is to systematically express my observations of the surrounding world and my personal life experiences. It may not relate much to mainstream art trends or contemporary popular culture, but for me, the most important part of artistic creation is personalized expression; the more personal, the more universal.

Qiu: Your photographic works are mainly in monochrome. How do you view color?

Gong: It depends on the context, atmosphere, and the subject being expressed. Color is linked to the emotion conveyed by the work. The emotions I convey in my works are often not very intense or flamboyant; I prefer calm and introspective expressions, giving the audience a sense of an imaginative space. I once made a series of site-specific video installations titled “Memory,” related to specific scenes; without the context, their meaning might not exist. After much deliberation, I removed them from the internet. That series was in color.

Qiu: Do you use specific equipment for your photography, or do you shoot with anything at hand? Do you use film or digital cameras?

Gong: I have several still and film cameras, choosing based on different needs. They are all digital. For the “West Land/East Country” project, I used a high-resolution 360 VR camera with 200 million pixels.

Qiu: In the past, when film was used, there was post-processing in the darkroom. Now, with digital photography, post-processing is done with software like Photoshop. How do you view post-processing?

Gong: Capturing and creating images doesn’t end with pressing the shutter, especially after photography became digital. Reframing, stitching, and color grading on the computer are all extensions of creation. We are easily confined by traditional concepts of news photography, which emphasizes the authenticity of pressing the shutter as evidence. Like Cartier-Bresson’s “decisive moment,” he avoided cropping; what was captured was what was printed.

Qiu: Yes, he had a superb framing ability; he didn’t need to crop, as the decisive moment was already captured before pressing the shutter.

Gong: Every artist has their own working method. My point is that artistic photography’s post-production should be seen as an extension of creation, not as correction or compensation. Nowadays, many photographic works are not just shot but constructed, assembled like building a house. Whether to retouch or not shouldn’t be a standard model; what’s important is whether the content you want to express is effectively presented.