Prologue As if trying to be rid of the mundanity of the world, he chooses to travel solo into the unknown with a rucksack on his back, paving his way through the plains at his own pace. The occasional company of a puppy on the journey is often silent, a silence that pierces through time and space, encouraging one to investigate, empty, reiterate, break away and reborn over and over again, as he tirelessly seeks for the hidden yet radiant child within himself through his paint brushes. Content He says: “One is always faced with the unknow, as if searching for a trail on a wild plain. The past masters may have already made the same journey, and I may find new directions from the ashes left from their campfires and continue to explore the path…I sense that making art is just like this.” From the hyperrealistic figurative paintings of the early “Strawberry Generation” series which consist of bright colours with contrasting dark atmosphere to Lo’s recent abandonment of large-scale canvases and vivid colours in favour of unalloyed and tranquil compositions, one may wonder if he had changed. But as a matter of fact, he had not altered at all, he had simply chosen to go back to the purest beginning of his art. “There have been two different stages in my life. I had wanted to challenge the human capacity in pursue of perfection and grandeur, but now I work with the space, weather, season, temperature and humidity around me, for I want to deliver the “warmth of my hands” despite their flaws. The flaws are part of me, and they are also the charms of human as a species.” The paintings of the so-called “beauties” in the public eye were simply portraits of friends within Lo’s social circle. Through the portraits of these females, the artist aimed to explore multiple social issues such as identity, nationality, economic inequality, as well as investigating the cultural significance that is unique to Taiwan as a nation. For he believed the question of “how to inspect oneself” has always been avoided in the Taiwanese society. It was not until a few years ago when he saw the photos of suffering children in war-torn Syria that he started painting children. “I have been exploring my inner-self through my paintings in recent years, then I realised that I had not been painting those around me, for I had actually been painting “myself”; the Syrian children are almost like a part of me, what had happened to them are almost like part of my own experiences. I don’t mean the actual events, but the spiritual connections between us. The older I’ve become, the more I live like a child.” He smiles shyly as he spoke those words: “Is it a little embarrassing to compare myself, the middle-aged man to a child…” We both laughed, not at his so-called “embarrassment” but his willingness to expose his most intimate feelings and naivety. “I think I now have a better understanding of this world and have realised how helpless I am in this vast universe.” As stated in the Bible, the devil roams the grounds in search for men he could devour; Lu Xun writes in his “Diary of a Madman” that everyone is looking for the opportunity to devour others under the covers of morality. He sees the charms and temptations of “evil”, which make this world such a wicked place! But of course, there are positive things on this earth, like the small yet precious “virtues” that so desperately needed to be passed on. Clothing offers one confidence and satisfaction, whilst mobile phones provide convenience. Many jobs are beneficial to the men kind, but he often askes himself: “What does an artist has to offer the world?” On certain levels, art has been reduced to the lowest stratum possible, for when art is discussed in the so-called “sophisticated environments” around the world, it is merely about “numbers” and its decorative purposes on the walls. “Art should not only be about negativities. My canvases cannot bring “warmth” to the viewers if I don’t improve my intrinsic qualities. I hope that one day my works would stop being so dark.” The warmth as described by him is not equal to brightness, it’s in fact something much more cultivated yet as nature as breathing. A painted paradise on canvas cannot be treated as the equivalent of warmth, whilst a wise man like the Dalai Lama not only inspires but also gives men the strength to search for inner peace without having to put on a merry façade. Surprisingly, he has used the term “warmth” multiple times: “I think I am a rather frosty person; hence I would like to learn to be a kinder man. Perhaps my works would show more benevolence if I were more compassionate.” The artistic world is often very superficial; however, he is far more interested in enhancing his inner self as a knowledgeable, caring and gentle soul.” Just like radiation, the changes in the core would cause a rippling effect and slowly update one’s hands, techniques and theory…everything changes slowly in the manner of the evolution. An artist like this brings strong influences, impact and effect to the world in a positive way: “I want to become this kind of artist, and I want to see the world through his eyes.” Men are fragile and easily struck by self-obsession, selfishness, inferiority, agitation and excitement. Physical or mental traumas break one’s balance in different forms. “My faith in Christianity has kept my spiritual balance, for I need an individual whom I could offer my gratitude to. As I walk on the road to success, I would still have a figure to remind me the importance of modesty.” His parents were not supportive of his choice to paint, hence he started supporting himself during university by scootering from Yangmingshan to Yonghe to teach art after lectures almost daily. He would return to his small and damp room in Yangmingshan four or five hours later and continue painting and spent most of his weekends making portraits for tourists in Yingge. He chose to look at destiny in the eyes and embrace his passions for painting through determination when he should have been enjoying a little romance and his youth. “I hated my parents for a period of time, but then I realised all these challenges were the gifts from god, and they eventually became the nutrients to my artistic career.” This is the uniqueness of fate, for you cannot predict whether the future is going to be good or bad, and your choices would determine the outcome. He speaks with a philosophical air: “The destiny actually follows a script, and it confirms that any decisions one may make are connected.” He met Isabelle Wen by chance, and he was so impressed by the elaborate and decadent interiors of the small garden on the third floor of ISA House when he visited a few years later that he chose to photograph a young girl as the model for an innocent painting in situ. This indicates the unspoken rule of karma, in which we endlessly reunite and part. “She is so innocent that she is unaware of the world crumbling around her. With her raised feet and wind-blown hair, her naivety could fend off all the sorrows on earth.” Sisy Chen has described the painting with these words. I met Lo Chan Peng on a fine afternoon. I imagined him being murky and gloomy, but he walked towards us like a cheerful little boy. During the interview, he sometimes acted like an artist, sometimes spoke like a thinker, but most of the time he was like a spiritual believer who was curious about the world and destiny. Listening to his favourite Nocturne No. 20 in C-sharp minor by Chopin, I can almost see him walking across a bitterly cold plain, his steps slow and heavy, but unusually calm. It is said that “becoming oneself is the sole purpose of one’s existence in this world”; he is searching for a glimmer of light as well as himself as the existing “inner child” on the wild plains. Despite the exhaustion of the body and the battered soul, I can however see the glistening child in the corner of his lips and his eyes. One does not travel backwards but instead aim to pursue the original self. In the wink of an eye, I can almost see the plains warming up.