Volume 1 · Heir
Jiang Xingye
Jiāng Xíngyè
Rivers and great rivers flow forever. The tide flowing in the blood. The Jiang family has three generations in charge of global capital, and under the undercurrent is gold and iron.
Traveling at night. Walking in the long night, without the help of sparks, it is itself a lunar eclipse.
She was born on a snowy morning in Zurich, in the penthouse suite of a private hospital, with the dark blue frozen surface of Lake Geneva outside the floor-to-ceiling window. Her grandfather held her as a baby and said to the room full of shareholders: "This child has no light in her eyes." Everyone was silent. He paused and smiled: "Because she herself is the light."
At the age of five, he completed a 2,000-piece pure white puzzle in the VIP room of Christie's in four hours and seven minutes. At the age of thirteen, he attended a family trust meeting alone and rejected an acquisition worth 600 million euros. He said only one word: "No." The whole place was silent, and no one dared to refute it. At the age of twenty, he officially took over the Jiangshi Art Fund and quadrupled his assets in three years. When the media asked about the secret, she said: "I don't understand art, but I understand people's hearts - people's hearts are easier to calculate than numbers."
She always wears dark custom-made suits, and the cuffs are never buttoned, revealing a pale wrist and a steel-case Panerai.
The Financial Times said she was "as cold as a sheathed knife." She saw the report and showed no expression.
Until she walked into that gallery and saw the wall full of blue.
Volume 2 · New Artists
Chi Yan
Chí Yàn
The pond contains still water and a deep abyss. Beneath the calm surface is a deep pool of ten thousand feet. The porcelain clay from Jingdezhen, the hands of the craftsmen, and the blue and white cobalt material are embedded in the texture of the nails. She was born there. When she was four years old, she drew a fish on a piece of scrap porcelain. Her grandfather looked at it for a long time and said, "This fish wants to swim."
Yan, the sky is clear and the sun is warm, the wind is soft and the dust is fragrant. But her paintings are never warm. Her paintings are burned, cool, with fine lines of glaze cracks - that's her own skin.
He left his hometown at the age of fourteen and went to Beijing alone. When she entered Central Saint Martins in London at the age of eighteen, her classmates said that she was like "a walking piece of blue and white fragments", withdrawn, sharp, and broken at the touch of a touch. But she's not broken. She put herself into the kiln and burned it into jade with a fire of 1,300 degrees.
At the age of 22, his graduation work "The Man Who Eatered Light" was collected by Tate Britain, setting a record as the youngest Chinese artist in the museum's collection. It was a pure black canvas, with eleven layers of black, and a small patch of extremely dark ultramarine hidden in the deepest part - like the eyes of a giant whale slowly closing under the sea at night.
An art critic from The Guardian wrote: "Chi Yan's blue is not just blue, but the place where the abyss begins."
She smiled slowly, like a spring thaw, warming her up one by one. But her paintings are so intense that they burn the retina. Someone asked her why she didn't paint happy paintings. She lowered her head and thought for a moment and said, "Because happiness is too thin and can be seen through with just one stroke. Sadness is thick and can be stacked a thousand times."
She stored every tear in a paint tube, tightened the cap, and left it until late at night to paint. She thought that no one in the world would take the time to dismantle her layers of blue - until a woman stood in front of the "Breath" for an hour and a half, motionless.
The woman wore a terribly heavy steel watch on her wrist.
Combined Volume · Night Banquet
The night is the color of ink, and Yan is the light of the sky. The word "night banquet" contains the strongest tenderness hidden in the interplay of toasts.
There was a whole world of noise between them - auction hammers, stock price screens, exhibition opening champagne, the white noise of private jet engines. But some things can be conveyed without sound, such as the weight of brushstrokes falling on the canvas, or the temperature of eyes falling on a person's face.
Concept: jxycy