"Quantum Entanglement" and "The Soul World"

“Anatta” is Mr Choi's sobriquet. Throughout history, painters have often had, in addition to their given names, an art name or alias associated with their aspirations, character and ideas. Understanding the meaning of “Anatta” may perhaps help readers appreciate Choi Cho Kwong’s paintings more fully. After some careful research, I found that “Anatta” is a Buddhist term referring to the negation of the self, one of the fundamental concepts of Buddhist thought.

In Buddhism, the “self” refers to the way ordinary people place the body, blood ties, locality, society, culture, ethnicity and nation at the centre of identity. People identify with these things at different levels; such identification is a composite product of concepts, habits, emotions, will and culture. The doctrine of “non-self” essentially rests on two premises and one conclusion. The first is that a person is composed of the five aggregates — form, sensation, perception, mental formations and consciousness — and nothing beyond them. The second is that within each aggregate no independent, self-existing or eternal entity can be found. From these premises follows the conclusion that there is no independent, self-existing or eternal essence within the human person. In other words, this is “non-self”. Following this logic, it is essentially the cultivation of a state free from the idea of “I” — that is, letting go of self-centred consciousness.

If one were to apply the modern scientific theories of Professor Zhu Qingshi, former President of the University of Science and Technology of China, this might be interpreted as a form of “quantum entanglement”, in which science and Buddhism unexpectedly converge, and materialism and idealism no longer stand in opposition, because quantum science has already touched upon human consciousness — the world of the “soul”. Thus, quantum interference at the level of the soul enables artists to understand the purpose of self-cultivation: through quiet contemplation they may discover the nature of their own soul, free from the interference of worldly spirits, and thereby achieve their truest self. In this sense, Choi Cho Kwong’s sobriquet “Anatta” echoes this line of thought, reflecting the philosophical realm of the painter’s mind and his wholehearted application of it to artistic creation.

Recently, people have seen in the news that President Xi, during a visit to Italy, was asked what it felt like to be elected President of such a large country. In his reply, he said that with such a large nation, the responsibility is extremely heavy and the work immensely demanding. He stated that he would put aside the self and not fail the people, striving to attain a state of “selflessness” and devote himself to China’s development. These remarks drew strong responses both inside and outside China, reflecting the broad and magnanimous vision of a national leader.

If one consults classical works of Chinese and foreign thought and culture, one finds many references in religious traditions to “non-self”, “selflessness”, “dedication” and “sacrifice”, all intended to guide people towards goodness. Yet Xi’s use of “non-self” differs from these. What he meant was self-forgetting — the readiness to sacrifice everything for the people and to serve them wholeheartedly. From the perspective of popular welfare, his use of “non-self” goes far beyond the notion of “dedication” found in religion. It is a new interpretation and application of the term, using “non-self” to accomplish the “greater self”. It expresses the spirit and sense of responsibility of a major national leader devoted to seeking happiness for the Chinese people and rejuvenation for the Chinese nation, willing to give of himself and brave in taking responsibility.

  Returning to the main subject, readers may still remember that in 2005, at the Hong Kong Art Biennial Exhibition held at the Hong Kong Museum of Art, a large imagery-based oil painting that viewers could freely rotate on the wall and view from different angles opened many people’s eyes. The unusual aspect of this 360-degree rotating work was that it allowed the viewer to change the visual effect of a two-dimensional space in real time, breaking with the usual static mode of viewing associated with easel painting. Its implication was what popular saying might describe as the impermanence of Buddhist truth: all things are in constant change. That imagery-based oil painting was Choi Cho Kwong’s work. Similar methods of presentation appeared again in two of his later exhibitions, and remain unique to this day; I have yet to see anyone else create anything quite like them.

In my view, the application of aesthetics is a crucial aspect of visual art. Some abstract paintings habitually rely on a “form for form’s sake” approach, allowing form alone to determine everything. This idea has had deep influence in abstract painting. Yet abstract painting, no less than representational painting, still aims to capture its “meaning”; its composition and conception are not abstract in any empty sense. Through reflection, the artist transforms the image in the mind into pictorial information and communicates it to the viewer, producing a visual effect that exists between the visible and the invisible. This may also be called imagery painting.

Such painting possesses a flexibility akin to tai chi movement. As the saying goes, “Taiji is born from wuji; it is the mechanism of motion and stillness, the mother of yin and yang”; “when it moves, it divides; when it is still, it unites.” It places great emphasis on the transformation of images and methods of change, qualities deeply rooted in philosophy. Likewise, if one considers Sun Tzu’s Art of War — ideas such as division and union, the orthodox and the unorthodox, the formless and the substantial, the empty and the real; “engage with the orthodox, triumph with the unorthodox”; “in security there is stillness, in danger there is movement; the square stands still, the circle moves” — one may say that this reaches the profound realm of moving from the formless to the formed, and then from the formed back into the formless. This is one of the basic principles of abstract painting, and it is left open to the viewer’s own interpretation. In this way, one can understand why Choi Cho Kwong has adopted the sobriquet “Anatta”.

Choi Cho Kwong’s paintings are delicate and rich in content. I was drawn to study them closely, and discovered that from “conceiving the idea” to “forming the image” and then to the overall structure, his arrangement of pictorial elements is full of lively thought moving from the realm of “self” to that of “non-self”. Beginning with artistic conception, the inner core of resonance and vitality runs throughout the entire image. He resolves the relationships between spirit and form, energy and image, union and division, the unusual and the orthodox, gathering and dispersal, openness and density, refinement and abbreviation, omission and selection, substance and emptiness, concealment and revelation, complexity and simplicity, black and white, and so forth. All are handled through deep and careful thought, not through aimless fantasy, and there is no trace of formalist tendency. This shows the painstaking effort the painter has invested in constructing the effect of the picture, and his artistic skill is fully revealed in the work.

In short, Choi Cho Kwong’s pictorial language is lucid and profound, and his observation of the world is subtle and penetrating. His imagination is highly original, and the forms in his paintings arise in the space between representational and abstract thought, all flowing from the depths of his heart. He skilfully transforms the landscapes within his mind into the medium of paint, casting a uniquely distinctive radiance across the Hong Kong art scene — something truly rare and valuable.

Choi Cho Kwong told me that his paintings have no fixed interpretation. Like a magic performance, if everything were explained too plainly, the mystery would vanish and with it the meaning of appreciation. He also said that his works are presented before viewers in a way that allows for multiple responses, enabling each person to sense the changes within the image for themselves, activate their train of thought, draw upon memories in the mind, imagine actively, and seek out or associate with familiar impressions and scenes from the past — leaving each viewer free to respond according to “their own experience, their own understanding”.

I know that Choi Cho Kwong’s life has been marked by the rise and fall of business failure and by extraordinary experience. This has given him a deep understanding and insight into the universe, the world and human life. Years of contemplation have settled in his spirit and risen to the level of philosophical understanding, forming a theoretical framework. The oil paintings and ink works in this exhibition fully embody this personal mode of reflection, which is why the realm expressed in his art is so profound and capable of setting the viewer’s imagination in motion.