By Will Fenstermaker
March 2025
Yuri Yuan
Song of the Nightingale, 2024
oil on canvas
60 x 48 in. (152.4 x 121.9 cm.)
The emperor’s palace surrounded a garden of natural wonders, none more marvelous than the nightingale. One day, the emperor received a gift honoring this prized creature: an automaton resembling the bird encrusted with rubies and jewels that sang in perfect imitation, bringing tears to his courtiers’ eyes. Offended, the nightingale fled to the forest, where it lived unseen and unheard for years. During the emperor’s final days, the nightingale returned. He commanded it—begged it—to sing, but the nightingale sat silent as the emperor died.
Yuri Yuan’s Song of the Nightingale reinterprets this folktale with a flautist performing beneath a birdcage-shaped beam of light. Her back is toward us, and she faces a plane of yellow wallpaper adorned with birds, automata and regal palaces. It’s a still scene, yet the flute glistens under the musician’s fingers, animated by the dynamic rendering of the tendons on the back of her hands. Song of the Nightingale is a performance of subtle virtuosity—straightforward in composition yet full of details and painterly flourishes that pulse with life. It forms the beating heart of Hide and Seek, Yuan’s exhibition of ten paintings at Alexander Berggruen in New York, deftly drawing one in to the exhibition’s explorations of artistry and performance anxiety. The exhibition’s title is, of course, a reference to childhood games, but it also speaks to a deep-seated—and perhaps universal—desire to be lost and fear of being found. Each painting considers the tension that lies between the fear of public scrutiny and the desire to create—and the ways in which we seek to protect that original spark of creativity from those who, like the emperor and his courtiers, only praise art for its aesthetic allure and see artists as little more than decorative machines expected to perform on demand.
Yuri Yuan
Where the Light Ends, 2024
oil on canvas
48 x 60 in. (121.9 x 152.4 cm.)
These anxieties are personal to the artist. Inspired by the folktale of Ma Liang and his magic brush, Where the Light Ends stands out as the only self-portrait of the group. Yuan portrays herself seated on the floor of a bedroom dim with dusk, her figure faintly sketched against the bed’s wrinkled sheet and pillow—she nearly recedes into this study of light and drapery. A ray of soft light spills from a window, illuminating her hands, again rendered in color and fine detail, as she browses a pile of art history textbooks. The painting depicts a quiet moment of contact between the artist and a body of human knowledge, drawing our focus away from the figure and toward something more internal and allegorical. Yuan’s elegant crosshatching, the careful attention she gives to hue, the various emotions she evokes from the interplay of light and shadow—these techniques represent the mental processes by which the artist negotiates her various inspirations, working through her antecedents and distilling various sources into her own unique vision.
Installation view of Yuri Yuan: Hide and Seek (April 16-May 14, 2025) at Alexander Berggruen, NY.
Yuan excels in a gloomy, crepuscular tone. When You Are Found evokes a primordial fear through a dark gradient of the sea slashed with gray waves and set beneath a sky whose layered and heavy brushstrokes loom like stalactites—a moody seascape whose emotional harbor is a feeble beam of light cast by a figure swept out to sea. The brushstrokes where the light meets the water are confident and assertive, piercing the heavy, apprehensive scene. This painting—along with Wishing Well, which depicts a figure peering over a bridge at the moon’s rippling reflection—abides by a dark, folkloric logic: the morass of history can be a fearful place where, if not approached with care and bravery, one risks losing one’s true sense of self.
What keeps these paintings from falling into a melancholic mode are Yuan’s compelling narrative sensibility and her ability to create emphasis through painterly detail. Lost in the World shows a view of Riverside Park dominated by a magnificent, glittering tree that sheds its leaves in a burst of fiery, autumnal hues. The dry-painted boughs flash with heat against the blue-gray river, rendered in a flat perspective inspired by classical Chinese brush-and-ink traditions. A solitary person strolls across this cloistered scene, seemingly oblivious to the cosmic vision above him. This perception of harmony at a slight distance appears again in Soft Shadows, where a group of ice skaters glides across a frozen pond. It’s a tranquil scene, yet a small cluster of trees cuts us off from the crowd—an urban idyll viewed from afar. Human activity gains the vantage of its rightful place: a festive crowd nestled and comfortably enclosed in this small pocket of nature. Two squirrels go about their business hunting for nuts in the foreground, rendered so playfully and with such apparent joy—their bushy tails erupt in plosive brushstrokes—that one can almost hear the consoling sound of their happy little chatter pinging throughout the grove.
Installation view of Yuri Yuan: Hide and Seek (April 16-May 14, 2025) at Alexander Berggruen, NY.
Will Fenstermaker is a writer and art critic living in Los Angeles, where he works as a contributing writer to Frieze magazine and a senior editor at Sotheby’s. He previously held positions with The Metropolitan Museum of Art and The Brooklyn Rail, and in 2024 was awarded an Andy Warhol Foundation Arts Writers Grant for short-form criticism.
Installation view of Yuri Yuan: Hide and Seek (April 16-May 14, 2025) at Alexander Berggruen, NY.
Artwork photos by Daniel Greer. Installation photos by Dario Lasagni.