As China has stepped into the currents of globalization over the past decades, it has been easy to fall into a trap: taking everything abroad as “advanced” and dismissing anything related to Chinese tradition as “outdated.” Yet culture and art are not like economic systems or scientific breakthroughs, where novelty often feels like progress. They move to their own rhythm. What we once abandoned may have been the spark for someone else’s innovation; what we chased as fashion may have been the tradition others had just broken free from. Without confidence, blind imitation rarely leads us to our true value.​

This is why I hold particular respect for Chen Xiangbo, who has remained committed to the classical fine‑brush painting while opening himself to new possibilities. His artistic journey unfolded during a time when traditional Chinese art was under immense pressure. From Hunan to Guangzhou, and later to Shenzhen—the very frontier of reform—he faced the full force of change. Yet he is not only upheld his identity as a fine‑brush painter, but also absorbed openness into his creative practice.

He trained his fundamental painting skill patiently in his early days, believing that true success comes from carrying one pursuit to its fullest practice. He studied theory, published widely, and stated that “fine‑brush painting means more than realism,” carving out his personality in global artistic discourse. He upheld tradition without treating it as inflexible, and welcomed contemporary schools, believing art should enrich rather than oppose one another. Nor did he become a pedantic traditionalist—he embraced trends, experimented with designer toys and NFTs. When I replaced the usual Year of the “Horse” poster with the word “Pony,” he immediately chose the Barbie‑pink version. Most precious of all, he treats painting as naturally as breathing, as a regular thing he does every day. “Every role can be retired,” he said, “but being a painter lasts a lifetime.” Even amid the crazy busyness of daily work and life, his fine‑brush works radiate composure and elegance, like poems of time flowing against the restless world, offering clarity and calm that can wash away the anxiety of mind. Compared with his chaos working and living environment, I would like to take his art as a kind of surrealism with an expression of Chinese fine‑brush painting.

This exhibition takes “time” as its central concept, featuring works inspired by Chinese twenty‑four solar terms and the twelve zodiac animals—paintings that capture the subtle traces of passing seasons. Alongside there are the artist’s classic lotus series, where serene shades of blue suggest time momentarily suspended. Set against the fleeting of “TEMPUS FUGIT”, the interplay of stillness and motion resonates with the exhibition’s theme, creating a dialogue between permanence and transience.