The Anatomy of Rage

The Anatomy of Rage is at the UCCA until Sunday 20

 

A year ago, Shanghai-based multimedia artist Lu Yang was just finishing graduate school at the prestigious China Academy of Art in Hangzhou. Since then, she’s turned heads with important shows at Shanghai’s Art Labor and Beijing’s Boers-Li galleries. Her latest is a stunning computer-animated work, The Anatomy of Rage, at the UCCA. In it, she melds the image of the wrathful Buddhist deity Vajrakilaya with a biological explanation of the origin and expression of rage.

 

 

I have? Maybe that’s because some of my works involve animal experiments and deal with topics like animal cruelty. I don’t know. I never focus on the opinions of viewers. The most important thing for me is my work – I don’t really care about other people’s attitudes toward it.

 

 

My interest lies in the biological reflexes that take place in people’s own physiological make-up. It might be extreme to think of humanity as a reflex system, but still – why would ‘God’ want to create a biological reflex mechanism? If humanity has original sin, then what is the source of our corruption, anger, obsessions and hatred? And if the human nervous system were less developed, would crime be avoidable?

 

The work blends science, religion, art and technology – when did you start fusing these various fields into your artistic practice?

 

I started after I graduated from college. My interests are wide-ranging, and I’ve been interested in religion and science since I was a kid – although that doesn’t mean that I’ll always involve them in my art. I’m not interested in technology itself, but more in how all types of tech-related data can be used to express the ideas that I want to explore.

 

 

Back in 2008, I was totally obsessed with neuroscience. I read and studied a lot of information related to the field. When I read about the amygdala [the part of the brain responsible for rage, among other emotions], I suddenly had this idea to superimpose a Buddhist deity known as the ‘Wrathful Vajrakilaya’ on top of it. I printed out overlapping images of the human brain and Vajrakilaya, and made colour scribblings to indicate where the amygdala should be, and then I just stuck the image up on the wall in my apartment.

 

 

I finally got to work on the project in May of this year, finishing up in September. It’s hard to calculate the actual amount of time I invested in it. Basically, I would put in anywhere from 16 to almost 24 hours a day. The workload really demanded a proper team, but I was low on funds and short on time, so I essentially had to do it myself.

 

 

I hit quite a few bumps in the road along the way. There’s no need to go into detail, but basically the process involved me being completely surrounded by computers every day. I’d have to wake up all the time and check on the work’s progress. However, I’m very grateful to Professor Yao Dajun (of the China Academy of Art) for doing the music for the project.

 

Your artist’s statement for the show uses a lot of apocalyptic language. Do you really feel we are living in ‘dharma-ending’ times?

 

What I’m interested in is the powerful and awe-inspiring way in which Vajrakilaya crushes all the violent creatures of the world. Maybe I do think that, in this world, a gentle response to violence is ineffective – that violence must be met with violence. As for whether or not we’re living out some kind of apocalyptic doomsday period, I have no idea. While I do have a rather sentimental point of view as a person, I do not want to bring any kind of subjective emotions into my works – they all have a rather objective approach.

 

 

I would prefer to use the word ‘humour’ rather than ‘entertainment’. I like drawing on humour as a way of presenting some really cruel messages. Entertainment can help get the work to a broader audience, but I’m still a real advocate for humour. I think that drawing on hate and bitterness makes it considerably more difficult to get your ideas across to people.