Written by Lan Yao
Photographs Courtesy of the Artist

When I was a child, growing up in mainland China, everything was very regimented. Lots of marching, long days at school, many lessons.  I remember my violin classes were taken on a military base and my teacher always wore her government issued army clothing while teaching us the basics. She was extremely brutal and hit our knuckles with a ruler every time we played something wrong.  

But there was one lesson my parents enrolled me in that felt completely different from the rest of the pack.  This was Traditional Chinese Watercolour, or Gou Hua.  In this class, my teacher was a man in his 50s and he always wore a loose tunic with flowing sleeves, common and traditional attire worn by artists at the time. He was a kind man and allowed us to run around the room, and be loud and spontaneous. Although he was teaching us how to paint traditional subjects (monkeys, lily pads, grapes, tigers, etc.) the way he taught us opened my mind.  He taught us how to show expression through the brush from within our bodies and through our hearts as a full body movement.  For me, this was the first experience of freedom of expression and I loved it!

I emigrated to Canada with my family when I was 10 years old.  My dad was part of an education exchange program started during China's Open Door Policy, he was already attending the University of Alberta and had been in Canada 2 years prior. My mother, brother and I arrived in Edmonton in the summer of 1988. Edmonton was a place I could not have imagined! Being from Beijing, I had no information of what the West would be like, nothing was taught in school — the only tidbits of information were through letters from my dad where I imagined a big huge flat field covered in grass and a big open sky (pretty close guess of the Prairies, actually).

I became a Canadian citizen just before I turned 16. By this time, my family and I had experienced countless adventures and misadventures in Canada.  We had also, unfortunately, encountered many acts of racism, experiences that are painful to relive and are still experienced now, especially during these trying times. It was in Edmonton where I realized that certain people seemed to despise me based purely on how I looked.   This was really hard as a teenager, I recall wanting so badly to fit in. In order to belong, I spent a lot of time trying to erase my "Chineseness" in the clothes I wore, the food I ate and even how I smelled, anything to not be considered different and out of place. 

When I turned 18, I moved to Vancouver to attend art school.  It was in Vancouver where I first realized that I would never "grow up" to become that blond-haired blue-eyed woman seen everywhere on the bus stalls and on the magazine covers of my youth.  This was a revelation to me, and for the first time I started to explore who I was, where I was from, and my story.  Now, although I still struggle, I have found room in my heart to accept the balance of being Chinese Canadian.

Three Years Night (2018)

I started this painting at dusk in Squamish when everything was falling into shadows and the lights of town were starting to come on.  Looking out my studio window, I felt a sudden swell of happiness and a feeling of oneness with my world.  As a Chinese Canadian, I have always struggled with a feeling of not belonging, this often leaves me feeling isolated and alone.  When I paint, I am very much creating a space where I feel safe and this is what I think I achieved with Three Years Night.  The “celestial beings” scattered within the landscape were inspired by the lights of town and for me guardians to my feelings of isolation. When I look at this painting, I don’t feel alone anymore and get lost in the linear flow of the sky and clouds. This painting was started at night and took three years to finish, hence the title “Three Years Night”. 

The people painting (2019)

I started this painting when I began working at The Granville Island Market in Vancouver selling paintings and prints of my work.  One of my favourite past times at the market was to people watch.  Granville Island is a huge tourist attraction so I had the pleasure of meeting people from all around the world. It really was pretty organic how I ended up with a painting full of people.  I tried to use line and colour to create a sense of interconnectedness, every person belongs, every person is accepted.

Currently I am working on a commission piece based on the wild forests and mountains of the West Coast.  For myself, I am really excited  to paint people, lots and lots of people!  Perhaps it is a result of physical distancing but I miss the days of people watching and celebrating our differences and similarities.  I also want to start a series of "mind maps" of my hutong (alley) in Beijing.  There were so many tiny little alleys and places to hide and play that I want to record before they fade from my memory.