Liang Jiamin: The Art of Unfinished Souls
"In the I-Ching, the final hexagram is 'Wei Ji'. It means nothing ever truly ends; life and creativity flow endlessly. My art is not a static statement; it is a living ritual of transformation."
Liang Jiamin is creating art with mineral pigments
Among the Artists at Dotspace, Liang Jiamin is perhaps the most unforgettable. Armed with master-level mastery of traditional Chinese painting, he chooses a bold, contemporary language to collide with ancient Eastern philosophy. Through a modern lens of urban fatigue, he reinterprets the sacred laws of the I-Ching.
The Winery
Liang was born and raised in the Sichuan-Chongqing region, the spiritual birthplace of Chinese Taoism. Yet, his artistic awakening did not come from grand scriptures; it came from a childhood instinct to survive loneliness.
Growing up under a strict family discipline with little parental presence, young Liang spent endless hours alone. Watching cartoons became his only escape, and mimicking those animations became his first artistic initiation. Later, art classes in school revealed his exceptional talent. Painting naturally became his emotional sanctuary.
"During my college years, the Sichuan Fine Arts Academy gave me an immense perspective, encouraging me to merge different worlds on canvas," Liang recalls. He describes this process of breaking boundaries as "winery." Different media and life experiences ferment over time, yielding entirely distinct flavors.
As a traditional ink painting major, Liang quickly hit a wall. The color spectrum of classical masteries felt too narrow, too restrictive for the grand narratives brewing in his mind. Then, he discovered Iwa-enogu (mineral pigments). These colors, sourced directly from raw earth and stones, gave his canvas a profound depth. His precise use of Indigo and Ultramarine soon became his signature —— a sacred purity that chemical synthetics could never mimic. "Compared to artificial colors," Liang says, "natural materials just feel closer to the 'nature' I wish to express."
Yet, for a long time, Liang constantly doubted himself, wondering if he could ever be a true artist. The turning point came with sudden force: at his undergraduate graduation exhibition, his series 「扶疏」ふそ received overwhelming acclaim.
That long-awaited validation anchored his path. He knew he was meant to be an artist.
「扶疏」ふそ, The work that leds Liang Jiamin to become a professional artist
The Mirror
Driven by his passion for animation, Liang moved to Japan to pursue his master's degree within their strict fine arts academy system.
However, the journey of an outsider in Tokyo was far from smooth. He was met with profound isolation on the streets, and his contemporary creations were initially met with cold indifference by the local art market. Yet, this double displacement gave him an unexpected gift: a vast, silent space to look back at himself.
He realized that the harder he tried to blend into an unfamiliar culture, the stronger his soul yearned for his own heritage.
The boy who grew up in the misty mountains of Southwest China, steeped in Taoist atmosphere, began rereading the I-Ching and Zhuangzi philosophies in the dead of Tokyo nights. He began weaving these cosmic views into his paintings, completing his I-Ching series in Japan. Once his degree concluded, Liang chose to trace the bloodline back to its origin.
He packed his bags and returned home, back to the very soil that nurtured his first breath of inspiration.
Liang Jiamin is in his studio, with his artworks behind him
The Paradox
Back in his hometown, Liang committed his entire existence to the calling of a professional artist.
"I love the moments of raw inspiration," he says, "when pure intuition drives me to paint for 12 hours straight in a single day." But the creative process is never a straight line. Driven by an almost obsessive rigor for his medium, he habitually modifies, layers, tears down, and repaints on the exact same canvas until the fabric reaches its breaking physical limit. These textured traces of time and friction —— embedded deep within the mineral grains —— are exactly what Dotspace collectors treasure most.
Sustaining such high-intensity labor requires absolute emotional continuity. Liang explains that he must keep his internal state perfectly locked to ensure that every stroke, every grain of crushed stone, carries the exact same emotional frequency. To achieve this, Liang’s studio ritual doesn’t involve classical music. Instead, he listens to postcast, specifically Dragon Raja, a sweeping youth fantasy epic by Jiang Nan, often dubbed the "Eastern Harry Potter."
Alone in his studio, he will play the most tragic, heart-wrenching chapters on loop for hours, sometimes weeping openly at his canvas just to maintain the emotional momentum. He confesses to "intentionally cultivating a state of grief," rubbing that raw, youthful sorrow layer by layer into the hard mineral pigments.
Yet, this is the beautiful paradox of Liang Jiamin: his process is a ritual of sorrow, but the soul of his finished art is entirely about hope.
Ultimately, he wants his paintings to bring joy. "Because the world today is already exhausted," Liang smiles. Rooted in the I-Ching, his work presents a view of life and death that transcends time. Unlike the traditional Chinese taboo surrounding death, or the Japanese aesthetic of mono no aware (embracing transience without fear), Liang’s art insists that even in the midst of chaos, social fatigue, or modern overload, everything will eventually revive.
Behind the deep blues and holy ultramarines, he always leaves a glimmer of unyielding hope for the viewer.
The Eternal Overture
Fire-Water Wei Ji: The Eternal Overture, 2025
Among his current works, Fire-Water Wei Ji: The Eternal Overture is Liang’s personal favorite.
"Wei Ji" is the 64th and final hexagram of the I-Ching. The ancient sages used it to conclude the book, yet it translates not to "The End," but to "Before Completion." It is a philosophy that proclaims nothing ever truly finishes; life and the universe are an endless, cyclical flow. It is both a metaphor for our chaotic era and Liang's ultimate vow for his own artistic journey.
Today, Liang continues his quiet, monastic life in his studio. He is certain of his path for life, yet he happily shares his raw pigment-grinding routines on social media like Rednotes and TikTok.
To Liang, that canvas of Wei Ji, overworked to its physical limit, is not a final destination. Every crushed mineral stone, every tear shed in the studio, and every contemporary gaze into ancient philosophy is a quiet declaration to the world —
Art and life are urging us to slow down, breathe deeply, and begin again, endlessly.