A two-panel folding screen by Lu Wei entitled “Ink Serpent” at Material Gallery in South Salt Lake.

Parables, folklore, and traditional stories in general constitute important ways we embody the truths of our cultures: the core reality so often lost in a labyrinth of distorted facts and well-meaning or self-serving untruths. This is, for instance, where we can clearly witness the indisputable and universal second-class status of women in every mainstream society, or conversely see how women have often created their own mythologies as antidotes to share among their own, alternative populations. Take the myth of Medusa, the youngest and most vulnerable of the three sisters known to the ancient Greeks as Gorgons. Men in Greece told each other, their wives, and children that Medusa was so ugly that anyone who looked upon her face was instantly turned to stone. This alleged feminine mixture of power undercut by evil intent typified the way Greeks, even the women, were taught to envision the conflicts they witnessed among the sexes, which never numbered as few as two.

Recent advances made by feminists, especially among the arts, have brought forward contrary interpretations of these old stories. Even in the late stage of classical Greece, figures like Medusa were increasingly represented as attractive, even beautiful figures, though that was almost certainly an effort to highlight their dangerous natures by suggesting they might actually fool admirers who were then lured to their doom. Today, however, women, who make up the vast majority of working artists—though their status and rewards continue to lag behind men’s—are inclined to depict such figures not as benign, but rather as bent on undermining the hegemony of male power, which is often depicted as corrupt and hostile to overall human concerns, if not to life itself.

Lu Wei, “Medusa”

Consider, then, “Medusa” as newly depicted by Lu Wei, whose work is currently being shown by appointment at Material Gallery. Where the ancient Medusa appeared grimacing, with tongue protruding or mouth open in a threatening manner, this one seems calm and returns the viewer’s gaze with a cool and level gaze. She isn’t only passive, but could be said to question or even challenge her visitor. Although she is nude, she covers herself casually to retain her control of the situation, and instead of the headful of writhing serpents so dear to previous artists, displays a couple of ropes of hair that terminate in naturalistic snake heads that gaze about in a manner that bespeaks curiosity rather than fear or menace.       

In a surprising coincidence, just as Utah has concluded hosting the 2025 NCECA Conference, Lu Wei is showing paintings done in the Suihi-enogu technique, in which the artist essentially paints with clay. Its other name, doro-enougu, literally translates as “mud pigment,” but by either name it can claim to be one of the most challenging and yet rewarding painting methods in use today, however rarely. It’s too complex to even begin to explain here, but readers familiar with some of the challenges of watercolor need only imagine that Suihi-enogu is like a continuous watercolor done with water, clay, and no binder, in which the mineral color is added on the fly and there is no chance to modify or replace a passage once it has dried on the paper.

Of course, I’m simplifying. A better idea idea can probably be found by looking closely at the matte surface and color variations in these paintings, which qualities are largely responsible for their paradoxical combination of tempera-like physical presence and an illusion of luminous translucence.

While most of the works shown at Material are figures—there will be more of this latest year’s work to be seen shortly at Ogden Contemporary Art—nature is not completely absent. In fact, the arbor-full of foliage that surrounds the inverted female figure in “Dedicated to Myself” and the various creatures—plant and animal—that appear in “The Night” are marvels of near-calligraphic drafting in which, as happens often in the best Asian art, the blank background can capture the feeling of water, snow, clouds, or whatever is suggested to the viewer’s eye or by the imagination.

Speaking of which, at the opening a perceptive guest pointed to what he thought were pervasive similarities between the women portrayed throughout. He asked if they were, in fact, self-portraits, presumably capturing different ages or moods of the artist. The artist countered with the suggestion that they come from her imagination, which would mark them as idealized images. Among the things promised by those who have seen works not yet shown here are some that concern her recent experience of childbirth, which is certain to be a subject of great interest in Utah. It will be something special to see if these, too, are idealized to the same degree. Portraits are not unknown among Asian art; popular Japanese Ukiyo-e prints often include celebrity performers of the day, for instance. But the focus on art as meditative activity tends rather towards long contemplation of a subject, followed by spontaneous expression, so which approach Lu Wei takes may say a lot about her future directions.

Speaking of the opening, it was particularly satisfying to see the two artist/curators and the guest come together to present her artworks. Jorge Rojas, who interviewed her in order to combine his impressions and her own version of how she works, is of course a Latino, specifically Mexican-born artist. Colour Maisch is a woman who has carried her sensibility into areas that neither men nor women have explored. And Lu Wei’s roots are in Taipei, Taiwan, though she has been artist in residence in Singapore and recently worked in Los Angeles. Together, these three cover a lot of formerly excluded artistic tradition, and the palpable excitement of their audience was unmistakable.

Lu Wei “the Night”

Lu Wei: Ink Shadows, Material, South Salt Lake, through May 23.

Geoff Wichert

Geoff Wichert objects to the term critic. He would rather be thought of as a advocate on behalf of those he writes about.