Li Chen

Biography

Born in 1963, Taiwanese artist Li Chen is regarded as one of the leading sculptors in Asia today, with his powerful bronze sculptures fusing Zen thought with the practice of contemporary art.

Li, who is largely self-taught, currently lives and works in both Shanghai and Taiwan, and began his artistic career by producing traditional Buddhist sculptures. In the 1990s, he began exploring new platforms of sculpture beyond the traditional, yet continued to retain a profound spirituality in his work, which was further deepened through his deep interest in and studies of Confucian, Buddhist and Taoist scriptures.

Articles

In Search Of Spiritual Space
By Ian Findlay in World Sculpture News

The Taiwanese sculptor Li Chen seeks to make art that has a spiritual space fixed within its powerful physical presence. By bringing the spiritual and the sculptural together in his figurative and narrative work Li hopes that the philosophical nature of his work will enrich people’s lives. While his art is of a deeply serious nature, his fusion of traditional Buddhist styles and contemporary ideas has resulted in work that is both humorous and full of irreverent wisdom, as well as brimming with the vitality of life and its unpredictable nature.

The history of modern Taiwan sculpture is a turbulent one. Throughout the 20th century, Taiwan underwent some of the most complex political, social, economic, and cultural changes experienced by any part of Asia. The most significant to impact the life of the Taiwanese were the colonization of Taiwan by Japan (1895-1943) and the arrival of the Nationalist government and its forces in 1947, and the subsequent leadership of the Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975).). Both of these experiences shaped modern Taiwan's artistic development profoundly, drawing as it did from influences that spanned both Japanese and Chinese traditions, many of which remain important the minds of many Taiwanese artists and cultural traditionalists. Yet, while traditional Chinese ink painting styles and modern Western-influenced oil painting flourished, sculpture struggled to obtain the same recognition and to be viewed as an integral part of Taiwan's modern and contemporary fine art canon. Over the past 20 years, however, the international success of such sculptors as the late Yu Yu Yang (Yang Yingfeng, (1926-1997), Ju Ming (b.l938), and Li Chen (b.1963), each representing very different generations and fresh personal visions, has cast a new light on Taiwan sculpture. While Yu Yu Yang's sculpture blended Western ideas with Chinese myths and aesthetics, Ju Ming has used the intricate movements of taichi to address cultural difference and power. Li Chen, however, has breathed a new dynamic into traditional Buddhist sculpture. He has taken it beyond the merely religiously significant and onto a human, personal level in which ordinary people can recognize important parts of themselves.

The traditional view of sculpture in China was that it was mere craft or a folk art form whose practitioners made functional items of a decorative nature, as well as producing animal carvings, gods and Buddha figures, for temples, and relief work for architectural projects. But with the arrival of the Japanese, sculptural practices changed dramatically and those interested in sculpture as an art form could receive such education in Japan. The first generation of Taiwanese sculptors among them Chen Hsia Yu, Huang Tu-Shiu, and Pu Teng-Sheng -- learned not only about Japanese sculpture, but also about modern European sculpture through their Japanese teachers.                                         

With the tyranny and chaos of World War II ended, Taiwan sculpture was dominated by political concerns resulting in numerous statues of Chiang Kai-shek, Sun Yat-sen. and Confucius. It was only through religious sculpture that local culture could be expressed. But from the mid-1970s onwards, the Taiwanese sculptural world changed utterly: partly through a significant shift in art education and the opportunities for international art education and the opening up of Taiwan to the world; and partly due to the growth of a gallery and museum system hungry to develop and to promote contemporary Taiwan art in its broadest sense. Besides these, sculptors were no longer confined to traditional materials such as stone, marble, wood, and bronze but were also using a broad range of both natural and synthetic materials to express themselves.

Sculpture, of course, is no longer sidelined as a minor art form in Taiwan. This is evident in the rapid development of numerous sculpture parks and the respect given to the works of such sculptors as Ju Ming, Yu Yu Yang, Tsai Ken, Lee Kuang-Yu, Dawn. Chen Ping, Marvin Minto Fang, Chang Tzu-Lung, Michell Hwang, Tsong Pu, Lin Liang Tsai, and the naive artist Hung Tung, as well as the many young installation artists whose works appear regularly at international art biennales. It was in the rapidly developing and singularly expressive sculptural world of the 1980s that Li Chen began his career, basically self-taught but filled with the determination to make his mark as a sculptor. "I wanted to be a painter initially." he says. "But for me it was just two dimensional. If I was making sculpture, there were more possibilities for me to express my vision of my experience and the world around me. I wanted to sculpt because I could touch it and hold it. Sculpture has the power of reality that painting doesn't have."

Li Chen, who was born in 1963 in Yunlin, Taiwan, majored in arts and crafts at high school and began to learn about modern sculpture under the guidance Hsieh Tong-liang at the beginning of the 1980s. For Li, however, it was not the multiplicity of contemporary sculptural forms that attracted him. Instead it was traditional Buddhist figurative sculpture that held his interest. His experiences in making traditional Buddhist icons was, in essence, his real apprenticeship as a sculptor, giving him a thorough grounding in the making of religious figures and the discipline of working with materials.

As Li says of this time of change, "I made some traditional Buddhist icons because it was my work for about half a year in a factory. When I worked as an assistant later with a sculptor, after my national service in the army, I began to make sculpture, Buddhist pieces, successfully. But as I considered my work as craft, not art, I wouldn't sign it.

"When I started to make my own work, I still worked with traditional Buddhist sculpture. But the style that began to evolve was not one made to intentionally attract people. It was one that represented my own spirit. By 1992, I began to feel the need to create something that was different from the traditional. And I made only one piece a year until 1997. My early works weren't really developed because, after all, the traditional is a burden. It is not easy to break away from tradition. Tradition is safe.

"The first difficulty for me was to liberate myself from the tradition of Buddhist sculpture. It took me seven years to break from the tradition, to feel that I had found my own sculptural voice. From then on I felt free."

Li's tentative beginnings, determined to break from the embrace of craft and traditional religious Buddhist art and the formality of its structures and visual impact, resulted in his first truly independent work entitled Water Moon Avalokitesvara (1992). This was quickly followed by other bronze Avalokitesvara, each showing subtle figurative developments, but still within the traditional canon of Buddhist figurative sculpture and highly detailed. Water Moon Avalokitesvara initiated a breakthrough in Li’s art would result over time in such outstanding series as The Beauty of Emptiness (1992-1996), Energy of Emptiness (l998-1999), The Transformation of Emptiness - Boundary Within Boundary(2000), Delights of Ordinary People (2001), and Spiritual Journey through The Great Ether(2001-2003). Such series not only show Li's development as a confident figurative sculptor with a concern for a singular human dimension in its monumentality, but also his willingness to challenge people's perceptions of religious art and its role in their lives. His beautifully still Amitaba Buddha (1998) and his daringly plump, monumental bronze Avalokitesvara(1999) are examples of Li's humanizing religious sculpture. Throughout the 1990s, one sees greater simplification in Li's figures, almost minimalist in their structural details, and a new attention to surface textures.

While Li is aware that he, as a devout Buddhist, remains intellectually attracted to the aesthetics and traditions of Chinese Buddhist art "especially that of the Tang and Song dynasties," his direction, since achieving his artistic independence in the late 1980s, has been to make a modern version of Buddhist iconography that speaks directly and simply to the world today without sacrificing the spirituality of it.

The formal connections that elegantly bind tradition and modernity are quite clear in Li's work of the 1990s. This is clearly evident in such pieces as Three Bodies of Buddha (1998) and Buddha of Healing (1998) where the meditative reality of the figure is clearly that of traditional iconography, but the volume, form, and texture suggest a more modern dynamic. And there is a sense of a spiritual freedom in such works. As Li Chen says, "When I make my own work, I try to bring to it a free spirit".

By the turn of the new millennium, however, we see the most significant changes and the real freeing up in Li's art, vision, and sculptural techniques. He has retained tradition at the core of his art but there is a new minimalist dynamic at work. Here he has added new sense of vigor, a more humorous element, and sense of playfulness that humanizes his art on a different level than before. His sculpture from the late-1990s is ever more approachable than just that of a decade before as he comes to grips with a greater expressive freedom. As Li told the arts writer Priya Malhotra in New York in 2003, he likes "to be playful and fun. People might see my work with a smile on their faces. Viewers interpret my work in different ways and see different things in it."

Seeing things differently does not, of course, come easily in any society. For Li, in conservative Taiwan society, his studies of Buddhism and Taoism have been important influences on how he views the world, his philosophy, and how he leads his life. But other, deeply important influences are the primitive and the ancient. As Li Chen says, "The primitive energizes and excites me. It is about the earth, real experience. I can look at the ancient and the primitive for days. Looking at Rodin one sees the real but it is more intellectual. I appreciate the skill but it doesn't excite me. The primitive is mysterious."

One of many people's immediate first impressions of Li Chen's sculpture, however, is not of either the ancient or primitive, but that it is somehow related physically and spiritually to the arts of Henry Moore and Fernando Botero. Li does admire the work of these artists but his vision is very much his own. His inspiration comes entirely from his own daily cultural roots. Botero's art is rooted to the ground powerfully physical, and of earthly reality. Li's sculptures, however, monumental and robust, possess a unique nature that is inclusive of the human and the spiritual. As Li told Malhotra in 2003, "In the Tang dynasty, the Buddhist sculptures were round and complete. Instead of being empty, they were full. To me, the fatness of my sculptures means tolerance and diversity. They are big and include all human beings. They are filled with the abundance of the world."

Works such as Landscape in Heaven (2001), Wisdom Bodhisattva (2001), Fulfillment Bodhisattva (2001), suggest contentment with both the temporal and the spiritual worlds. And while their sense of enormous physical presence, like that found in such works as Pure Land (1998), Avalokitesvara (1999), and Dragon Riding Bodhisattva (2001) may be overwhelming to the eye, their reality suggests abundance. But in the making of such pieces Li Chen he is more motivated by the spiritual element that he wishes to see in his arts. "When I do my work, I am trying not to think about the physical reality of it or the structure and the material. If I focus on this, then I won't achieve the spiritual or the spirit of the work," he says. “When I am working on a sculpture, I really want to enjoy it. When I am enjoying my work, I want the people who are looking at it to enjoy that experience, too. I am just like a musician who is inspired. Then, others will also be inspired. I feel that the making of my own work can bring people to a spiritual state where they are aware of joy or happiness, which is what I felt when I made them. I think that there is a kind of love and warmth in my work."

In Li's smaller works, but with no less a sense of the monumental experience, this "love and warmth" is enhanced by a dream-like, almost surreal, nature. But there is also a sense of emptiness, even of aloneness. With his characteristic flowing, fluid lines that embrace the fullness of his figures there is an engaging humor and an earthiness present that does not detract from the seriousness with which the approaches Buddhism. Yet, while works such as Puzzle (2000), Cloud Glider ( 2000), Landscape in Heaven (2001), Meditation (2002), Clear Soul (2002), The Cloud in the Buddha (2002), Float to Sukhavati (2002) and Cloud Mountains ( 2003) are clearly influenced by Buddhist sculpture, they can be viewed as purely secular figures also. But these works not only exemplify these characteristics but also Li's sculptural techniques, his attention to detail and materials, as well as his skilful combination of surface textures.

In Cloud Glider, Landscape in Heaven, Meditation, Clear Soul (see Cover), and Cloud Mountains Li combines smooth and rough surfaces, as well as adding gold and silver color for emphasis. The juxtaposition of his dark bronze and gold lends a feeling of solidity to his work, anchoring it to the ground. The silver foil, however, applied very carefully by hand, suggests the idea of floating, the ethereal, spiritual world where clouds transport one freely to heaven or nirvana. Here in these works there is also a greater sense of spiritual and emotional liberation, as if one's life is but a dream. The use of silver was a very conscious decision by Li. "I decided to use silver to give another sense of space and a contrast between fullness and emptiness, the silver represents the emptiness. I think this is clear in works like Clear Soul and Float to Sukhavati," says Li. "I had thought of using stainless steel or white bronze but these give a cold feeling. Silver is applied after the work is finished and polished and it is applied by hand so there is a natural texture. Sometimes, though, the juxtaposition of the silver and the black is not always successful."

For all the seeming spontaneity in Li Chen's art he prepares thoroughly for each work, both mentally and physically through drawing and sketching. It is at this time, too, that he is also thinking of the material process that the sculpture will go through to its completion. "I sketch but the spiritual journey changes things. The changes will be made in the sketches and not directly on the work," he says.

"I almost always sketch because when I have an idea I need the sketch as a guide, a connection between the idea, and the final physical work and the spiritual element within it. You see, I am making the sculpture first two dimensionally. I'm also very sure about the work in my mind. For me, when the sketch is finished, the sculpture is kind of half done. After sketching I make a model in wood, then I put clay around it, then fashion the image."

There is a clear sense of a childlike innocence and a curious timeless wisdom to be found in Li Chen's art. If sculpture reinforces our own humanity, then Li's work certainly does this in full, with a sense of humor, a limitless energy, and a generosity of spirit that Western-influenced, hard-edged metal sculpture work does not possess. Li's vigorous embrace of the best qualities of Buddhism allows us to smile at ourselves and to see the wisdom of seeking peace in a turbulent and malevolent world.

"I am not making sculpture. I am creating happiness, something to be enjoyed and it is not about money,” says Li. "I'm trying to be in a spiritual space in my work. And I hope that the spiritual and art come together. I hope often that in seeing my work people will see the spiritual element in it and receive it for themselves. One implication of my work is philosophical and I hope that each piece enriches people's lives."

Taipei Times - From Taiwan to the World

Chang Ju-ping, Staff Reporter , Jan 27, 2001

Sculptor Li Chen has the right mixture of talent and connections to make it big in the art world beyond Taiwan, but only time will tell if the world gives his works the nod of approval.

As a world traveler, sculptor Li Chen dreamed of the day that he would be able to interact with the world through his art. His dream seems to be finally coming true.

A sculptor with considerable local repute from Taichung County, Li is among the small pool of Taiwan artists with the talent and, perhaps most importantly, the connections to take his work abroad.

The first step for Li onto a larger stage occurred at the 1999 Taipei Art Fair, where he put on his first solo exhibition. His local agent Hung Ray-yi had sent Li's portfolio to over 200 art dealers in the US and Europe in advance of the show, hoping to stir up talk about the sculptor's works. London-based art dealer Michael Goedhuis responded, seeing an artist with immense potential. At the five-day art fair, sales of Li's stylized Buddha-inspired sculptures from a series titled Energy of Emptiness: Delights of Ordinary People (totaled nearly NT$10 million. As the whirlwind of the art fair settled toward the end of 1999, Hung was talking to Goedhuis about the possibility of joint representation.

The term globalization may be a marketing catch phrase, but for Li, Goedhuis and Hung, the term carries special resonance as they work to bring Li's works into the wider art world. And Li's arrival on the local art scene has been nothing short of meteoric, as he appeared on the covers of two leading art journals last month and made a splash with a new series The Transformation of Emptiness: Boundary with Boundary at the 2000 Taipei Art Fair.

Chubby buddhas

Those who visited Li's second solo show at last year's art fair saw that his Buddha-inspired chubby figures have undergone a further transformation. The Buddha variations are more human and have taken on a comical, cherubic look. Like a group of Garfields -- chubby, contented, sleepy, stunned or confused -- each one appears sweet like a baby. Infused in the sculptures are also Li's concerns and beliefs about life and the environment.

In The Egret's Spring (2000), for example, the figure embraces an egret, a species that is rapidly disappearing from Taiwan. The Buddha's Smile (2000) is inspired by the Statue of Liberty in New York, except that the fire of Lady Liberty's torch is replaced by a lotus flower. The flower is symbolic of one of Li's highest values: being true to oneself in the mist of the world's chaos and confusion. The freshness of the works and the distinctly Buddhist-inspired messages contained within them appeal to large audiences, both in Taiwan and abroad.

Finding an opening

"I know it will work," says Hung. Having run several galleries for 20 years, Hung felt certain about his move to bring Li overseas and began to exclusively represent the sculptor in 1998. "The overseas market has always been fascinated by exotic, ancient Buddhist sculptural images. Li's Buddha variations go a step further to make them stand out, integrating Western sculpture techniques and Asian concepts of philosophy," he said.

Goedhuis, who specializes in commercial art fairs, currently represents 18 Taiwanese and Chinese artists scattered around the globe. Last year, he signed three Taiwanese artists, Li among them. Li is also one of only two sculptors on Goedhuis' roster.

"In our view, he is the leading sculptor from Taiwan," Goedhuis said. Goedhuis was in Taiwan last September to visit Li and Hung, and immediately afterward went straight to work making plans for shows abroad. The following month, Goedhuis was busy showcasing Li's sculptures in New York's International Fine Art Show.

Together, Goedhuis and Hung have arranged exhibits in Palm Beach, Florida next month, in New York in March and in Geneva in April. A solo exhibit is also planned at the Taichung River Art Gallery from March 3 to April 1.

Hung sees the shows as a major break for Li to move onto the international stage. "Taiwan is just a small island. It's not enough to provide large clientele. We need to reach out," Hung adds.

Hung says that an overseas agent is often necessary to break into the foreign art market. Some art fairs abroad, for example, have threshold requirements, such as a recommendation from a local art critic. The connection through Goedhuis overseas is the perfect opening for Li.

"His sculptures attracted enormous interest," Goedhuis says excitedly of the showcase in New York last October. Opera singer Jessye Norman bought a piece and the private museum, the Olenska Foundation, in Geneva, bought three others. Goedhuis says Li has become a key figure in contemporary sculpture in Asia because his works show "continuity with the cultural past and exposure to developments in the West.

"This is what makes Li Chen's art so interesting and valid," Goedhuis says.

Gaining recognition

Hung and Goehuis are doing their part to bring Li's sculptures to as many venues abroad as possible and Li spends as much time as possible cloistered at home working on more pieces. But his sculptures have yet to receive the nod of approval from the academic world, which would secure his position among the elite of contemporary artists.

Richard Chang , a local art dealer for 10 years who specializes in overseas Asian artists in Europe, says Li has been offered a rare opportunity that most local artists will never receive. "So far I can only think of one or two artists from here that have been lucky enough to have an overseas agent and be systematically promoted abroad," Chang says.

"He has just walked beyond the gate, but is not yet successful in the classic sense. To gain worldwide recognition as a major artist, he needs to be endorsed by critics and significant museums. We will wait to see if he gets there."

For Willington Lee, owner of Gallerie Elegance in Taipei, Li's growing prominence abroad is a phenomenon that comes with Taiwan's increased exposure to the world in general. "It's not enough for one single artist to start a significant dialogue with the world. It will take a group of artists to make a regional culture be noticed on the world map."

Indeed, Li's key to a global market is in many ways creditable to world-famous Taiwan artists who preceded him, including the sculptor Ju Ming and the painter Yu Peng.

A personal style

Li's family owned a small construction company in Taichung County while he was growing up, which brought him into contact with modeling and creating objects with his hands. He attended a vocational high school and chose art as his major course of study and later moved into sculpture exclusively.

His styles have changed radically over the years, from his more technical early works that relied on attention to minute detail, to his recent stylized Buddhas which are more humorous and conceptual.

After vocational school, Li worked for about 10 years under contracts from temples and private clients to make Buddha sculptures before he dedicated himself full time to his own works. As a commercial sculptor, he was often given photos to work from, and asked to do direct copies. He sculpted Buddhas of all sizes in a variety of styles from different dynasties in Chinese history. Tang dynasty Buddhas are plump and rounded, while Yuan dynasty Buddhas are more elaborately dressed in gowns with plenty of accessories. He quickly became a master at reproduction.

By the early 1990s, Li began to tire of technique-intensive sculpture contracts. He wanted to be creative and make an artistic impression with his works. Inspired by a video he saw in 1990 on Chinese sculptures held at The British Museum, he came up with his extremely popular design for Avalokitesvara, Goddess of Mercy with Water and Moon. In this piece, the goddess is sitting on top of rippling water, with the moon as her backdrop and a lotus in her hands. In a two-year span, Li made only 30 pieces in this series, earning a respectable NT$4 million.

But fortune and fame are not Li's primary goals. He could have made more of the Avalokitesvara series and enjoyed commercial success, but his motivation was instead to move forward with his creations and forge a uniquely Taiwanese tone in his art. He sought to create sculptures that are less spiritual, less authoritative, but catching, humanistic, fun, and conceptually rich.

The result has been his wildly successful? Energy of Emptiness series and last year's The Transformation of Emptiness.

Down on the Farm

During a brief respite from the exhibit tour, at home in the countryside of Taichung County, Li works quietly in his studio. His traditional robes, soft voice and long flowing hair lend a quintessential sage appearance to the man. He is slightly reclusive, sitting in a corner of the art fair last month. But he appears to be taking the hubub surrounding him in stride. Asked about how it feels to be an artist on the verge of international recognition, he strikes a philosophical note: "I feel no pressure being in the limelight. Life goes on," he shrugs.

Nonetheless, he remarks that things have changed for him. It takes about two and a half months for a sculpture to take shape, and Li is already delaying some of his overseas engagements to give himself room to breathe. "My life was easier in that I just had to do sculpture, but now I have to work with an overseas manager and deal with the media. With my works sold abroad, I have to also work with an overseas manager that I can hardly communicate with, and who knows what will come next?"

Apparently he won't have much time to ponder that question with his hectic schedule of exhibitions, as his agents have already arranged a date for him with the world. 

A Spiritual Journey 

Melissa Walt Thompson

Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and Arhats - figures from the pantheon of Buddhist deities rendered in bronze and ink inhabit the universe of Li Chen's art. But Li Chen creates these traditional forms in a contemporary style, infusing them with a charm that enhances their innate spirituality.

Born and raised in central Taiwan, Li Chen is a distinguished figure in the island's vibrant contemporary art scene. After the founding of the People's Republic of China in 1949. Taiwan became the repository of traditional Chinese culture. Since the lifting of martial law in 1987 and ensuing political liberalization, diverse social and cultural movements have co-existed with the country's more traditional and conservative ones. In fact, Li Chen's artistic development parallels the searching and questioning trends of contemporary art in Taiwan. Disenchantment has arisen in response to Western ideas of progress and development, particularly materialism. Li Chen's personal exploration of these modern issues has led him to ancient Buddhist traditions and his art touches a chord that is universal and human rather than culturally or ideologically bound.

Just as traditional Chinese painters first learned by copying the styles and brushwork of past masters, so Li Chen turned to the past as he was developing his personal style. For years, he copied early Buddhist sculptures. Many of these works were commissions from Buddhist temples and Li grew accomplished at making reproductions. His own creative impulses eventually triumphed, however, and in the early nineties Li moved away from commissioned work to embark on his own artistic path. Li Chen's works reflect the profound impact of Buddhism on his life and art.

Buddhism is one of the world's great intellectual traditions and the dominant religion of East Asia. Originating in India, Buddhism was superseded there by other belief systems. But by then, Buddhist teachings had spread far beyond their birthplace and found particularly fertile ground in other parts of Asia. In China, it remained a vibrant religion until the middle of the twentieth century, and Buddhism has maintained its vitality elsewhere, particularly in Japan, Korea, and Taiwan. In the West, Buddhism has enjoyed new significance at this particularly anxious moment in history. Individuals of many backgrounds who seek spiritual meaning and surcease from the trials of worldly existence, have turned to the Buddha's teachings.

It was a similar spiritual quest that inspired the historical Buddha in the sixth century BC. Born Gautama Sakyamuni, he was prince of a small kingdom in the foothills of the Himalayas. Raised in luxury, the young prince was carefully shielded from the painful realities of the world beyond the palace walls. Nevertheless, as a young man he encountered the physical certainties of old age, sickness, and death. The suffering he witnessed inspired him to renounce his princely existence to search for the cause of human suffering. This, he ultimately determined, was the result of desire.

Buddhism maintains that only by eliminating desire can one achieve enlightenment and escape the endless cycle of death, rebirth, and suffering that is the fate of all mortal beings. Thus, he became the Buddha ("Enlightened One").

Buddhism was introduced to China during the Han dynasty (202 BC - AD 220), and its influence on Chinese society and culture has been profound .The legacy of Buddhism's intellectual tradition exists in the texts and sutras and teachings. Equally as rich is its impact on Chinese artistic traditions. Monumental Buddhist sculptures at Yungang (5th century) and Longmen(6th century) are among Buddhism's most spectacular legacies to the world. Temples and museum collections harbor numerous smaller but equally stunning examples. Li Chen's own early work drew heavily on the classical styles of Tang (618-906) and Song dynasty (960-1279) Buddhist sculpture: figures whose supple forms are modeled with grace and sensuousness. But Li's works have evolved far from these established models. Mastery of the classical styles led Li Chen to a singular vision that is con-temporary, universal and infused with all the profoundities befitting Buddhist art. Whether working in two dimensions or three, Li Chen's works have a fresh, contemporary quality. The most noticeable characteristic of the bronzes is the softness of line. They are full, richly-modelled figures, with minimal delineation of musculo-skeletal frame or distinguishing features. Sakyamuni (1998), one of the names by which the Buddha is known, for example, is recognizable from the cranial bump (ushnisha) and long earlobes. These are two of the physical characteristics (lakshanas, in Sanskrit) attributed to the Buddha. But even these are understated. Li Chen's Sakyamuni sits poised and serene hallmarks of many of his figures.

Avalokitesvara (Guanyin, in Chinese) is one of the most important figures of the Buddhist pantheon. As a bodhisattva, he belongs to the group of enlightened beings who have postponed their own nirvana in order to aid in the salvation of others. Avalokitesvara is the most popular of the bodhisattvas, revered for the virtue of infinite mercy. Li Chen depicts Avalokitesvara(1999) very simply, with an open-armed gesture appropriate to the abundant compassion for which the deity is revered. With minimal detail, Li's Avalokitesvara conveys the bodhisattva's fundamental nature.

If Buddhism itself flourished as a result of its adaptability in absorbing outside influences, the same is true of Buddhist art. Gandharan Buddhist sculptures of the second and third century feature a mixture of styles, including significant Greco-Roman influence. So, the incorporation of Western influence into the Buddhist figure has along tradition. Li Chen's nod to this malleability takes the form of blending Buddha with an icon of a different sort the Statue of Liberty. Frederic Auguste Bartholdi's figure raises aloft the torch of liberty; Buddha lifts a lotus bud. With the skyline of New York City altered forever in 2001, The Buddha's Smile (2000) assumes a new poignancy unintended at the time of its creation. The benevolence of Li Chen's figure is a balm for a world transformed. Embedded in the lotus flower is the idea of the purity of Buddha nature, unsullied by the wretchedness of this world.

Li Chen has not confined himself to the medium of bronze; he is also accomplished in two dimensions. Working on a scale more intimate than the sculptures, Li's drawings are captivating images. Meticulously rendered with ballpoint pen on paper, they evoke litho-graphs or ink rubbings. Li applies small, circular overlap-ping strokes that lend a richly textural effect. He has described the result as akin to the cracked-ice pattern of ceramic glazes. This subtle surface pattern is a decorative effect highly prized in Chinese ceramics and translated to textiles, lattice work, and other decorative forms. The subject matter of the drawings is similar to that of the sculptures, and apart from their differences in scale and medium, they have a similar allure. Arhat in the Water(2003) illustrates another category of beings in the Buddhist pantheon - the arhat (literally, "Venerable One").Unlike bodhisattvas who strive actively to aid others on the path to salvation, arhats function as role models, revered for having conquered worldly attachment through individual effort. Li's arhat stands upright, but clearly in repose. His head and shoulders droop forward onto a cloud-shaped pillow of water. He appears to be resting beatifically.

Meditation (2002) repeats the image of a sculpture of the same name and date. In his search for the answers to life's suffering, the Buddha followed many paths, including asceticism and meditation. It was while meditating that he achieved enlightenment, hence the importance of the practice in Buddhism. Li Chen's figure stands with both arms stretched overhead. Cradled in the uplifted palms sits a tiny Buddha.

It is one of the great ironies of Buddhism that the ultimate reality which sculpture is intended to rep-resent is Nothingness. In fact, the goal of enlightenment is to end the cycle of death, rebirth and suffering, thereby achieving Emptiness. And yet, has Emptiness ever been as evocatively rendered as it is in Buddhist sculpture? The forms radiate numinous power, manifested in the figures of the Buddhist pantheon. The finest are infused with human charm and spirituality. Li Chen's works - sculptures and drawings alike - fulfill these dicta with his own unique interpretation, which express a deep commitment to classical spirituality in a sharply contemporary idiom.