Ding Yi is an artist committed to a language of crosses, taking two symbols as his alphabet: “x” and “+.”  From the outset of his career in the mid-1980s, the artist has been associated with and defined by variations of abstract grid works composed of these marks. His first solo show in the United Kingdom at London’s Timothy Taylor gallery is a strong exclamation that this language has not been exhausted. Seven large square paintings of these seemingly infinite geometrical shapes, tessellating and overlaid in a palette of black, white, luminous green and warm orange, filled the gallery with optical tricks.

With a precision that is usually the preserve of computer-generated graphics, Ding’s hand and his dedication to exactness are immediately felt. Both painted and struck into the basswood canvases, remarkable determination and diligence are set in each “x” and “+.”  Layered upon each other in irregular sizes, creating small asterisks, or larger squares and diamonds, these emblems organically multiply, forming a dense painterly surface. From a distance, the result of this detailed work is the creation of an oddly recognizable hybrid: a densely woven textile metamorphosing into circuit boards and streams of digital data. Paintings in green, Appearance of Crosses 2016-4, 5, 6 and 7 (all works 2016), pulsate as if conducting electrical current, while the orange canvases, Appearance of Crosses 2016-8, 9 and 10, glow, frazzled from activity.

This sequence of thick, tar-like lines inflicted with neon buzz has been described as an imprint of Shanghai’s increasingly artificial and urban texture. Spurred by Deng Xiaoping’s economic reforms in the 1990s, including the introduction of China’s first stock market in the city and the privatization of business, Shanghai is now illuminated by countless commercial signs and brightly lit advertising banners. The extent to which Ding’s sensory illusion is representative of these developments is debatable. As Tim Marlow, the artistic director of London’s Royal Academy of Arts, ventured in a conversation with Ding: Is there a risk of bringing to bear too much interpretation? Explanations that these works consider the city’s “sociopolitical” character are transparent and sit thin. Rather, the paintings should be regarded as self-reflexive creations, each a product of the artist’s compulsive 30 years spent making and marking. They reflect back their surroundings rather than holding the city at their core.

These paintings are therefore an articulation or manifestation of Ding’s aesthetic obsession and, as the artist explained, his need to resolve something. Each work takes off from where the previous ended; as suggested by their numbering, they are regarded by the artist as a sequential progression. To where the artist is heading remains unclear for, as Ding stated, he works in an incremental manner, making the future hard to envisage. “Appearance of Crosses” showed that encompassing wood into his range of materials, which have included textiles and corrugated cardboard in the past, marked a new direction in Ding’s practice. The use of basswood provides different dimensions and offers increasing depth for the artist. Regarding his cuts as “one of the strongest languages to adopt,” his works made the walls at Timothy Taylor all but disappear, leaving a loud orbit of x’s and +’s. 

Ding Yi’s “Appearance of Crosses” is on view at Timothy Taylor, London, until June 24, 2017.

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