When we were young, we dreamed about what we would be when we grew up. A doctor, a teacher, a movie star or maybe even an artist. Our lives were before us. We knew that there would be love and heartbreak and probably hard work, success and disappointment, but everyone expects that we will all live happily ever after. When Song Ling was young, I wonder if he dreamed he would relaunch his artistic career after a long hiatus, and be poised to make a significant mark on contemporary Australian art.

Song Ling trained as an artist at the China National Academy of Fine Arts and received his Batchelor of Fine Arts Degree in 1984. After graduating in China, Song Ling was part of the ‘New Wave’ art movement. In 1988 he came to Australia where he participated in several group exhibitions and for a short time showed his work at Pinacotheca, Melbourne. He interrupted his career to become a full-time carer for his new-born son but returned to the studio ten years later in 2005 to start a new and very different style of work from the classic calligraphic ink on paper and installation-based artworks which he had previously exhibited. He had re-emerged in full-blown, full-on, colourful splendour.

Based on imagery appropriated from 1930s cigarette advertising, the Shanghai Flower series Song Ling produced in 2005 was unique. Warhol, Lichtenstein and the American pop movement came to mind, but these paintings were definitely not derivative. Song Ling’s training and background makes the work personally and culturally relevant in Australian contemporary art.

Both parents are also academy-trained painters and continue to work in China as respected artists. He uses details of birds and flowers drawn from his mother’s paintings, images of the Buddha and propaganda photos from the Cultural Revolution as a kind of cross-generational/cross-cultural story telling.

Song Ling’s latest body of work is inspired by Japanese animé and Manga characters. The genre has created its own pop sub-culture and the style is very recognisable. Song Ling uses well-established characters in the Manga culture and re-presents them in a fine art context. He uses computer software to deconstruct the printed image, turning it back into something in which the hand of the artist is present. He manipulates a digital scan of the image to produce an enlarged pattern of “screen dots” similar to the way printers apply ink to paper, then carefully traces around these dots by hand. Close-up, an array of variously sized dots sit on the solid, saturated backgrounds, but at a distance, the dots merge to form carefully contoured close-up faces. Song Ling uses colour to exaggerate and intensify the image, consciously rebelling against his formal training to create tonal harmony, instead inducing discord through strong opposing colours. Aesthetically, the colours are exciting and vibrant, the imagery appealing and engaging.

The west seems to find perpetual fascination with the east, and there is a burgeoning interest in Chinese contemporary art. Asian kitsch has spawned armies of big-headed kitties, and mutant, morphing aliens. The popularity of Manga through every conceivable manner of merchandise ensures saturation across all demographics. There is a worldliness in how these characters are presented. Brooding blackbelts fight to save doe-eyed maidens from the forces of evil with nothing more than three power cards and an energised badge of honour. They are like Rhett and Scarlett from Gone with the Wind, but in the latest Japanese designer clothes.

Removed from their original narratives however, we are forced to re-evaluate the situation of these characters and question their relevance. In this current body of work, Song Ling has included text with messages that directly confront or engage the viewer.

The characters could be SBS soap stars, their words of love captioned in multi-lingual translation. But is it possible that the words in our own language are simply the message we want to hear and different story is being told in the “other” language? These fairytale endings when our Prince would come to save us, and our sweethearts were always waiting for our victorious return say something of our dreams for “happily ever after”, but there is something altogether less saccharine in Song Ling’s paintings.

Pervasive mixed messages about sexuality and responsibility in society today means that young people grow up faster than ever before. The girls in Song Ling’s paintings have a wide-eyed innocence but they can also appear provocatively coquettish. The boys seem sensitive and sincere, but may be riddled with teenage angst which could easily turn to rage. Manga characters are often driven by very adult motivations. The assumption that cartoons are for kids does not necessarily hold true in this artform. Violence and domination are the mainstay of these animated narratives, battles are fought between good and evil, and the winner must sometimes sacrifice more than the victory is worth. Life is like that sometimes.

When we were young, we dreamed about growing up. Now we are grown up, we dream about when we were young.

Gina Lee

December 2007

This essay was published in the exhibition catalogue for When We Were Young at Niagara Galleries, Melbourne, 2007.


	Song Ling When We Were Young When we were young, we dreamed about what we would be when we grew up. A doctor, a teacher, a movie star or maybe even an artist. Our lives were before us. We knew that there would be love and heartbreak and probably hard work, success and disappointment, but everyone expects that we will all live happily ever after. When Song Ling was young, I wonder if he dreamed he would relaunch his artistic career after a long hiatus, and be poised to make a significant mark on contemporary Australian art. Song Ling trained as an artist at the China National Academy of Fine Arts and received his Batchelor of Fine Arts Degree in 1984. After graduating in China, Song Ling was part of the ‘New Wave’ art movement. In 1988 he came to Australia where he participated in several group exhibitions and for a short time showed his work at Pinacotheca, Melbourne. He interrupted his career to become a full-time carer for his new-born son but returned to the studio ten years later in 2005 to start a new and very different style of work from the classic calligraphic ink on paper and installation-based artworks which he had previously exhibited. He had re-emerged in full-blown, full-on, colourful splendour. Based on imagery appropriated from 1930s cigarette advertising, the Shanghai Flower series Song Ling produced in 2005 was unique. Warhol, Lichtenstein and the American pop movement came to mind, but these paintings were definitely not derivative. Song Ling’s training and background makes the work personally and culturally relevant in Australian contemporary art. Both parents are also academy-trained painters and continue to work in China as respected artists. He uses details of birds and flowers drawn from his mother’s paintings, images of the Buddha and propaganda photos from the Cultural Revolution as a kind of cross-generational/cross-cultural story telling. Song Ling’s latest body of work is inspired by Japanese animé and Manga characters. The genre has created its own pop sub-culture and the style is very recognisable. Song Ling uses well-established characters in the Manga culture and re-presents them in a fine art context. He uses computer software to deconstruct the printed image, turning it back into something in which the hand of the artist is present. He manipulates a digital scan of the image to produce an enlarged pattern of “screen dots” similar to the way printers apply ink to paper, then carefully traces around these dots by hand. Close-up, an array of variously sized dots sit on the solid, saturated backgrounds, but at a distance, the dots merge to form carefully contoured close-up faces. Song Ling uses colour to exaggerate and intensify the image, consciously rebelling against his formal training to create tonal harmony, instead inducing discord through strong opposing colours. Aesthetically, the colours are exciting and vibrant, the imagery appealing and engaging. The west seems to find perpetual fascination with the east, and there is a burgeoning interest in Chinese contemporary art. Asian kitsch has spawned armies of big-headed kitties, and mutant, morphing aliens. The popularity of Manga through every conceivable manner of merchandise ensures saturation across all demographics. There is a worldliness in how these characters are presented. Brooding blackbelts fight to save doe-eyed maidens from the forces of evil with nothing more than three power cards and an energised badge of honour. They are like Rhett and Scarlett from Gone with the Wind, but in the latest Japanese designer clothes. Removed from their original narratives however, we are forced to re-evaluate the situation of these characters and question their relevance. In this current body of work, Song Ling has included text with messages that directly confront or engage the viewer. The characters could be SBS soap stars, their words of love captioned in multi-lingual translation. But is it possible that the words in our own language are simply the message we want to hear and different story is being told in the “other” language? These fairytale endings when our Prince would come to save us, and our sweethearts were always waiting for our victorious return say something of our dreams for “happily ever after”, but there is something altogether less saccharine in Song Ling’s paintings. Pervasive mixed messages about sexuality and responsibility in society today means that young people grow up faster than ever before. The girls in Song Ling’s paintings have a wide-eyed innocence but they can also appear provocatively coquettish. The boys seem sensitive and sincere, but may be riddled with teenage angst which could easily turn to rage. Manga characters are often driven by very adult motivations. The assumption that cartoons are for kids does not necessarily hold true in this artform. Violence and domination are the mainstay of these animated narratives, battles are fought between good and evil, and the winner must sometimes sacrifice more than the victory is worth. Life is like that sometimes. When we were young, we dreamed about growing up. Now we are grown up, we dream about when we were young. Gina Lee December 2007 This essay was published in the exhibition catalogue for When We Were Young at Niagara Galleries, Melbourne, 2007.