PERCEPTUALFIELD
CURATORIAL STUDIES
This field encompasses the systematic academic investigation of curatorial practice, theory, history, and criticism.
Where Does Epistemology Live in Ink’s Empty Space?
— A Contemporary Conversation on Awareness and Knowing
Participants: Zhao Peisheng, Teachers and students of the IB Philosophy Club, British International School Shanghai (BISS)
Academic Host: Reia Juanshang Zhang
Written by: Reia Juanshang Zhang
What sparks fly when Zen’s idea of wú-zhù (“abiding nowhere”) meets the modern instinct to take knowledge apart?
On 16 May, at Zhao Peisheng’s solo show “Neither Grasping nor Rejecting” in Shanghai’s Benyi Space, the artist sat down with students and teachers from the British International School Shanghai’s IB Philosophy Club. Zhao’s Zen-infused paintings and clay pieces offered a living lesson in creating with a mind that clings to nothing, while the students—drawing on Theory of Knowledge (TOK) habits—asked how Zen intuition and logical analysis can fit together. The gallery’s wash of ink and scent of fired clay became the backdrop for a lively, cross-disciplinary exchange.
1. Why does ink painting speak so fluently for Zen?
“Art mirrors life and looks straight at what the world is,” Zhao said. The free-flowing strokes in his Black Pines and Profound Harmony series aren’t casual; they’re brush-tips guided by meditative focus. When a student asked whether the blank areas in his work echo the “gaps in knowing” TOK talks about, a debate on emptiness and the edges of knowledge took off. Each bloom of ink, each dry-brush flare, silently illustrates the Zen line “abide nowhere; let mind arise.”
2. Twelve clay blocks as a map of modern life?
Zhao’s rough, block-like installation set off another round of questions. Do the clashes of glazed and raw surfaces mirror the tension between personal and shared knowledge in TOK? Is the piece a reminder that sense experience and rational thought are always negotiating with each other?
3. Do we still need intuition in an AI world?
During an ink workshop, students tried “no-plan washes,” letting water and pigment run where they liked. Zhao pointed out how close this was to the adaptive thinking used in real-time market decisions. One student, Reia, noted: “Zen’s here-and-now insight might be the perfect tool for the cognitive puzzles of the digital age.”
4. If an artist won’t explain, how can viewers understand?
A classic TOK issue surfaced at the round table. “A title is like the raft in the Diamond Sutra—once you’ve crossed, leave it,” Zhao replied. The philosophy teacher linked that to the limits of language, and the students drew on the IB Learner Profile’s “open-mindedness” to rethink how we look at art.
5. Do Zen stories narrow artistic freedom?
If koans become fixed “content,” art can slide into formula. The point is to treat Zen not as raw material but as a way of seeing: it prompts a feel for no-self and emptiness that lets makers drop their grip on limits. During lockdown, Zhao used dense ink to answer collective anxiety—not by preaching but by letting brush and paper echo a state of mind. TOK tests the borders of knowing; Zen dissolves the borders altogether.
6. Do school subjects slice up the real world?
In her talk “The Prism of Cognition,” Reia held up a grape: “Its pH for chemistry, its form for art, its supply chain for economics— which is the ‘real’ grape?” The room saw how Zhao’s practice resists fragmentation: his pieces are at once philosophy, craft, and a lived discipline.
Closing moment
After two hours the session peaked in a shared ink painting: students’ strokes blended with Zhao’s bold lines, and the xuan paper showed not just mixed media but a fresh look at how we know. With a spirit of “neither grasping nor rejecting,” Zhao traced the outline of Eastern insight, while the students, using TOK’s sharp questions, tapped at the borders of each subject. Zen says, “The Way is easy when you stop choosing.” When clear reasoning meets sudden insight, we glimpse a world beyond either-or—and the brightest light is the critical spark in these young eyes.
