Hidden in Plain Sight: WU Tseng Jung’s Rustic Sublime

From the 1970s through the 1980s, WU Tseng-Jung was a prominent figure in Taiwan’s architectural scene, completing numerous public projects and garnering widespread acclaim, all the while steadfastly bringing his distinctive creative vision. His self-published works, including WU Tseng-Jung 1971–1986 and Dancing with the Land: Dongshi Township Office, meticulously documented his design concepts and realized projects. These publications, enriched with life narratives, black-and-white and color architectural photography, and commentary, constitute a significant legacy for future generations. In recent years, WU’s elegant and timeless watercolor and acrylic paintings have gradually transitioned from private practice to public exhibition, revealing a new dimension of his artistic journey. Through exhibitions, catalogues, and public television shows, WU’s lifelong passion for painting and his refined artistry have found a broader stage for appreciation. Acclaimed for their pure sophistication, his paintings evoke an “Eastern aesthetic that exalts shadows” and reveal a “poised detachment from worldly distractions anchored in inner calm and composure.”  1

When viewed in the context of art history, WU Tseng-Jung’s paintings prove elusive to traditional categorization, defying clear affiliation with any established stylistic school or generational identity. Firmly grounded in his local origins, yet nourished by modern artistic currents at home and abroad, WU has forged a distinctive aesthetic that embodies a return to elemental simplicity and sensibility. This essay offers an initial exploration of WU’s art by drawing upon his architectural monographs, interviews, and media reviews while engaging in comparative perspectives from art history. Featuring works from the 1990s to the present, this exhibition traces WU’s pursuit of a rustic realm that fluidly moves between city and nature, revealing a delicate equilibrium between refinement and spontaneity. In essence, WU’s paintings and his earlier architectural practice are not disconnected or in opposition; rather, both reflect a deep concern for the survival and habitation of modern humanity. Using a visual vocabulary that reinforces and expands his ideals of simple living, his paintings traverse ethereal mountains and urban streets alike to manifest an unaffected wisdom and aesthetic grace.2

The Journey of Artistic Aspirations

Born into a Hakka farming family in Shangcheng Village in Dongshi, Taichung, WU Tseng-Jung’s early years were marked by the trials of American air raids, followed in adolescence by the profound loss of both parents to illness. Despite the adversities of his upbringing, the scenic beauty of his hometown, cradled by mountains and rivers, remained ever vivid in his memory. The embrace of a serene mountain town, vast grain-drying courtyards, and sweeping cattle plains sowed the seeds of WU’s earliest architectural inspirations.3   While studying civil engineering at Taipei Institute of Technology, his artistic inclination and talent quietly emerged—he would spend hours in the sketching room drawing plaster casts from the Japanese colonial period. At age 21, he used his first paycheck from highway survey work to purchase a set of Japanese watercolor supplies at the Central Bookstore in Taichung. In 1970, while working as an architectural draftsman, he also studied at Read LEE’s (1921–2010) studio, where he further honed his drawing techniques.4

Influenced by deep Chinese humanistic traditions and driven by a pioneering spirit in modern art, Read LEE founded the Chun-Yi Painting Association in 1963, later renamed the Yi Lu Painting Association in 2002. LEE wove lifelong, unending dialogues with people, nature, and history into his paintings in pursuit of pure essence and the true meaning of existence.5   His brushwork echoed the spirit of Chinese calligraphy and textured strokes, employing concise lines and expressive touches to vividly render the structure of the human form and the essence of landscapes. WU’s bold, minimalist sketches and the layered color effects in his watercolor and acrylic paintings reveal certain parallels to LEE’s work. In his 1986 architectural monograph, alongside the compilation of 54 design projects, he also included two quick sketches of valleys, executed with vigor and energy.6    In his later works, WU increasingly accentuates the significance and expressive power of color, blurring object contours and abandoning conventional perspective and depth. Through vibrant tones and dynamic brushwork, he composes rhythms of light and shadow that conjure a spectrum of inner emotions and contemplative moods intuitively.

A Craftsman of Pure Dedication

 In 1960, WU Tseng-Jung moved to Taipei to pursue his education and career. An honest and resolute spirit, he carried with him a passion for art and a vision for architecture. In 1971, he founded Chun-Yi Architecture Firm, naming it Chun-Yi as a tribute to Read LEE and as an expression of his belief in remaining “pure and unmixed, calm and unchanging.”7   Guided by his punctilious and earnest attitude, WU distinguished himself in numerous architectural competitions, including projects for city councils, public housing, libraries, art museums, and cultural centers. From construction drawings and material selection to architectural photography, every step of his process was approached with exceptional clarity, precision, and a fine eye for detail. As fellow architect CHI Ti-Nan noted, WU places great emphasis on integrating architecture with Taiwan’s local environment and ecology, establishing himself as an architect with a strong grassroots spirit and a distinct authorial identity.8

The spirit of a craftsman—valuing unwavering dedication and excellence—pervades every facet of WU’s architectural and painting creations. Throughout history, craftsmen have shaped material culture by remaining grounded in practical work and meeting real-world needs through the union of hand and mind, fueled by imagination and a persistent devotion to quality. Rather than following the trends, craftsmen focus on cultivating the intrinsic value of their creations, finding in this quiet dedication an abiding sense of honor. However, as capitalism hastens forward, dominated by productivity, profit, and the relentless pursuit of efficiency and speed, human values have been reduced to numbers and standards, making the fading spirit of craftsmanship a treasure of rare and enduring worth. Beyond delivering functionally complete and visually harmonious buildings, WU cherishes the tangible traces of craftsmanship within his own home—from the textured sweep of a trowel across cement to the subtle planing marks in wood, each bearing witness to the hand of a craftsman.9   In a similar spirit, WU’s paintings preserve the tactile vitality of each brushstroke, with pigments layered in varying intensities, where the marks of repeated revisions fold the passage of time into the refinement of his artistic vision.

Suggestive Forms of Architecture

WU Tseng-Jung’s paintings originate from real locations. From Taimaopu in Dongshi and his Taipei residence, to the National Taiwan University campus, Yushan, Qilai Mountain, and Kenting, as well as overseas sceneries like Guam, Palau, and Niagara Falls, each place is woven intimately into the fabric of his lived experience. He adopts a spontaneous freehand approach by drawing from memory rather than objectively recording the environmental details. While WU often photographs scenes for visual reference, he only loosely consults the composition. Stripping away identifiable local features, reshaping proportions, and reimagining colors, he crafts landscapes imbued with a quiet, timeless resonance that beckons viewers to return again and again. Certain depictions of real places, such as In Front of My Own Window (2008) and Visitor Center with a Billiard Table (2008), transcend representation on a personal level to become universal green spaces bathed in beautiful light and a free-flowing, inviting atmosphere. Architectural forms in WU’s paintings appear as softened silhouettes seen from afar, like echoes of distant memories and tacit knowledge from deep within. Rather than the intricate details of tiles, beams, or walls, he surrounds these structures with flourishing trees and skies ablaze with color. These recurring architectural silhouettes in his work can be traced to a self-described memory: as a young man riding trains home, I would stand watching small towns and fields pass by from a higher viewpoint, reexamining the scattered buildings across the landscape and striving to “give them their most suggestive rendering.”10   From NTU Farm Coffee and Night at NTU Entrance (2013), to Shop East of Lu-Ming Hall (2018), horizontal and vertical forms anchor the compositions with quiet stability, even as the buildings themselves are swept into the ephemeral moods of nature. This distant, hazy portrayal recalls Hiroshi Sugimoto’s (1948–) Architecture photography series (1997–2000), in which he used a large-format camera with the focal length deliberately set to “twice-infinity” to intentionally dissolve modernist buildings in a state of ethereal blur. Sugimoto’s use of blurring stems from the notion that a building’s completed form is already a compromise with reality. Through his lens, he sought to capture the purest vision of the original design, casting structures as spectral presences that epitomize their soul and spirit.11

Architecture’s forms and their cycles of rise and fall often serve as metaphors that inspire reflection and imagination. In 1980, WU won first prize in the design competition for the new Taipei City Hall, proposing a double-cross structural layout that harmonized elements of Western classicism with late modernism.12   For the exterior wall’s color and material, WU originally envisioned a sky-gray tone finished with aluminum panels or frosted glass, so that the building would seamlessly merge with the twilight sky at nightfall, fading into near-invisibility.13   In contrast, in his painting Taipei City Hall (2015), WU employs a suggestive and minimalist approach, evoking the warmth of cypress color exterior while casting the plaza and garden trees in a serene, luminous glow. Architectural details like columns and entrance halls recede into softness, allowing the vision of an open, citizen-centered modern space to come to the fore. Similarly, in Iron Sheet House and Red Brick Fence (1996–2000), brilliant, exuberant colors explode across the canvas like festival firecrackers, with houses faintly visible, nestled among trees and flowering paths, blending harmoniously into the lush natural surroundings.

The Existence of Space

All external phenomena find their reality through human perception, which grants them recognition and meaning. Without bodily perception, the very foundation of WU Tseng- Jung’s painting would cease to be. Whether it’s boarding a train, scaling a mountain, or strolling along a lakeshore, an artist’s bodily movement through space opens shifting perspectives and fluid focal points, as they capture transient scenes that ignite unbridled imagination and awaken spiritual awareness. Responding to his personal experiences of place, WU’s paintings not only give form to the existence of space but also induce a visceral sense of bodily delight. His inventive water-flushing technique harnesses the force and tempo of flowing water to invite chance, diversity, and unpredictability, where unexpected effects emerge across his experiments on canvas. The artist’s subjectivity enters into dialogue with material forces that create a delicate tension between control and improvisation.

WU’s pictorial space arises from the expression of environments hidden in plain sight within the urban landscape, while simultaneously conversing with modernist art history. Modernist painting highlights the medium’s uniqueness and agency to open pathways to spiritual resonance and invites multiple interpretations of a work. In works like Serene Drunken Moon Lake (2006) and Moonlight (2015), we encounter dark tree shadows, muted tones, and a restrained sense of order, elements that inevitably call to mind James McNeill Whistler (1834–1903) and his Nocturne series in the 1870s, where thinned oil paints dissolved the outlines of Battersea Bridge, ships, and the far bank of the Thames into an otherworldly, silvery-blue twilight. Meanwhile, Moon Above Drunken Moon Lake (2014) and Stream and Mist (2024) unfold in sweeping horizontal fields of color, exuding a quiet, profound charm reminiscent of Mark Rothko’s (1903-1970) meditative abstract canvases, in which drifting, diffused blocks of color express the ebb and flow of emotional tides.

As a whole, WU’s paintings knit together architectural and symbolic forms. On the one hand, they balance the solidity and contours of structure that suggest the outlines and presence of architecture; on the other, they represent the fluidity of the subconscious and the awakening of perception that encourage open-ended association and interpretation. Conveying the openness of space and the subtle spectrum of light through the depth and gradation of color, WU summons a spiritual homeland that is simple and unadorned. His vision of ideal architecture is that of a human-made natural space of tranquility within the bustling world, where one can find repose for body and mind amidst the lights and murmuring voices of the crowd. He deconstructs and reimagines architectural structures in his paintings, integrating them into vibrant natural settings and giving shape to universal visions of utopian landscapes. Ultimately, this rustic sensibility stirs a longing for open horizons, where the distinctions between art and architecture fade, and the long-standing divide between city and countryside finds a gentle reconciliation.14

2.Regarding “the rustic” in philosophy and literature, see Jean-Marie Schaeffer, The Rustic, translated by Johanna Liu and Yolaine Escande, Philosophy and Culture, Vol. 37 (9):9-20 (Sept. 2010), http://dx.doi.org/10.7065/MRPC. 201009.0009
3.Lin Hsin-Yueh, “Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way”, United Daily News, United Daily Supplement, March 6, 1982, p. 8.
4.“WU Tseng Jung Chronology”, Dancing with the Land: Dongshi Township Office, Taipei: WU Tseng Jung, 1991, no page number.
5.Read Lee, Taipei: Taipei Fine Arts Museum, 2011, p. 3.
6.WU Tseng Jung 1971-1986, Taipei: WU Tseng Jung, 1986, pp. 23, 29.
7.Lin Hsin-Yueh, “Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way”, United Daily News, United Daily Supplement, March 6, 1982, p. 8.
8.Chi Ti-Nan, “An Analysis of WU Tseng Jung’s Architecture: From Tiger Head Indigo to the Moon”, Dancing with the Land: Dongshi Township Office, no page number.
9.“Architect’s Life and Space”, WU Tseng Jung 1971-1986, Taipei: WU Tseng Jung, 1986, pp. 226-226.
10.Dancing with the Land: Dongshi Township Office, Taipei: WU Tseng Jung, 1991, no page number.
11.Hiroshi Sugimoto, “How Much Land Does a Man Need?”, Time Exposed, translated by Huang Ya-Chi, Taipei: Walkers Cultural, 2010, pp. 17-18.
12.Lee Chien-Lang, “Taipei City Hall and WU Tseng Jung, Li Jun-Ren, and P.T. Chen”, Artist Magazine, no. 589 (June 2024), pp. 144-147.
13Cheng Chao-Yanginterview, “The double cross symbolizes simplification: The new city hall adds prestige to the architect,” Min Sheng Daily, Life News Section, March 14, 1994, p. 15.
14.For more descriptions on architectural and symbolic forms, see Herbert Read, The Meaning of Art, translated by Liang Jin-Yun, Taipei: Yuan-Liou Publishing, 2011, pp. 76-79.