On the afternoon of October 8, a special event quietly unfolded at No. 46 Erxianqiao East Road in Chengdu — the opening of the “Dong Menli · Music & Art Salon Exhibition.”

This exhibition brought together six artists with strong independent voices and deep academic backgrounds — Yan Cheng, Xue Manli, Zhao Huan, Liu Shi, Xie Zhengli, and Tan Xiaozheng. Each of them played a dual role — both creator and curator. Their paintings, diverse in style and concept, created a conversation that reflected not just aesthetic differences, but also the artists’ thoughts on our times, personal experience, and the structures we live within.

In this living-room-style space called “East Gate,” art is no longer something distant, hung high on white walls. Instead, it becomes part of daily life — a shared emotional and spiritual resonance.
The exhibition invites the audience to experience how these artists, through self-curation, break through the boundaries of institutions and identities to return to the true core of art — freedom and sincerity.

It’s a collective practice of creation and reflection — a gentle dialogue between life and art.

Adding even more layers to the experience, a chamber orchestra and MOMO Music Team performed live during the opening, blending classical and contemporary sounds into the atmosphere. The result was a feast for both the eyes and the ears — intimate, vibrant, and a little nostalgic, almost like stepping back into a private salon from old Shanghai.

The performances continued into the evening, filling the space with warmth and laughter.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s how Chengdu’s quiet transformation begins — through authentic, cross-disciplinary conversations between artists, musicians, and everyday people.

(Opening Scene）

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(Behind the Scenes)

Intro
From working at a state-owned company to becoming a full-time artist, from the playful Cartoon Series to the soulful Butterfly Series, and then to the expansive Snow Mountain Series—Xue Manli’s twenty-year journey has always been tied to her own inner growth. For her, art isn’t just a career choice, it’s an irreplaceable kind of true love.

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01 From State Job to Bluetop: A Brave Leap

Back in 2006, Xue quit her stable job at a big state-owned company and moved into Chengdu’s Bluetop Art District to become a professional artist.
At the time, Bluetop was buzzing with artists like Zhou Chunya and Luo Fahui. With encouragement from these mentors, she quickly found her footing.

Her early Cartoon Series gained a lot of recognition and even caught the attention of curator Lu Yongzhi, who invited her to join the Anime Aesthetics Biennale.

But even with the success, she didn’t want to just repeat what was “marketable.”

“I still wanted to follow my own inner voice.”

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02 Butterflies: Rebirth in the Rough

Through years of psychoanalysis, Xue gradually turned her focus to butterflies.
“A butterfly transforms from a caterpillar, breaks out of its cocoon, and takes flight. To me, that’s like constantly being reborn.”

Her butterflies aren’t flawless or decorative—they’re textured, broken, and raw.
As she puts it, “Life, like Zhang Ailing said, is a gorgeous robe, but crawling with lice.”

That tension between beauty and imperfection became the heart of her Butterfly Series.

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03 Snow Mountains: From the Personal to the Vast

Later on, her work shifted again—from the delicate details of butterflies to the grandeur of snow mountains.
“Butterflies speak about individual lives, while snow mountains tell bigger, broader stories.”

Up close, her paintings look abstract, just layers and textures. From afar, they form landscapes of snow.
This change wasn’t just technical, it was also personal—moving from inward self-reflection to a more expansive outlook on life.

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04 Art and Life: Finding Balance

“I couldn’t survive on art alone,” Xue admits with disarming honesty.
She experienced the boom years of China’s art market around 2007–2008, and the sudden downturn afterward. To stay balanced, she decided to become a university lecturer.

Teaching gave her stability, but it also kept her connected with younger generations. “The opportunities and resources are always there,” she says, “but what I really want is to focus my energy on the work itself.”

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05 Freedom and the Future

Although she once signed with galleries in Shanghai and had successful solo shows, Xue has mostly preferred to remain independent.

Now, she paints in the quiet of the mountains, enjoying a life of solitude and focus.
At the same time, she’s noticed that more collectors are starting to want original works for their homes—not just prints—which has given her practice a stronger professional foundation.

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06 Words for Young Artists

“If it’s not true love, sticking with art will feel miserable.
For me, it really is true love, so no matter what, I’ll keep painting.”

That’s her advice to young artists—and also the most authentic summary of her own twenty-year path.

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✨ In Xue Manli’s work, butterflies and snow mountains aren’t just images of nature—they’re metaphors for her own journey. Over the past two decades, she’s been answering one question with her brush:
“What do I truly want?”

Interview / Tan Xiaozheng (BACKWALL Editor-in-Chief)
Interviewee / Yanze Xiong (Artist & Designer)

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🖼️ From London Back to Tradition

Yanze Xiong’s studio in Chengdu feels quiet and disciplined — but beneath that calm, there’s a kind of fiery order.

He graduated from the University of the Arts London and the Royal College of Art, where he studied under British design legend Neville Brody.

During his eight years in the UK, he worked on design projects for Alexander McQueen, the British Library, and the V&A Museum, and even collaborated with artist Xu Bing.

But it was his deep connection to Chinese culture that pulled him back home.
After returning, he taught at the Central Academy of Fine Arts and collaborated with brands like Wuliangye and Xijiu, bringing traditional aesthetics into contemporary design.

“What I really care about,” he says,
“is how our generation can redefine what ‘Chinese aesthetics’ means — in our own language.”

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🌸 “Miaohua”: A Bloom Between Cultures and the Mind

“Miaohua” — literally “wonderful flower” — is the series Xiong has been developing for years.
It blends Buddhist motifs, mandalas, and sacred geometry, creating imagery that feels both ancient and cosmic.

“‘Miao’ in Daoist philosophy means harmony — every dimension in balance.
‘Hua’ means both flower and flourishing life.
To me, Miaohua represents a state of inner abundance.”

That “abundance,” he explains, isn’t just an artist’s idea — it’s something everyone experiences when they stop rushing to define themselves and allow life to grow in its own rhythm.

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✨ Creation as Realignment

Many of Xiong’s works were made outdoors — in the mountains, forests, or while camping.

“Painting helps me realign myself,” he says. “Every piece is like calibrating the compass of who I am.”

For him, art is an exchange of energy with the world.
“In a fast-paced society, we’re constantly defined by outside voices.
Creating slows me down. It helps me feel my own rhythm again.”

He believes everyone needs their own kind of “creative time” — not necessarily painting, but something that allows you to reconnect with yourself: walking, writing, cooking, or simply thinking in silence.

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🪷 When Art Enters Daily Life

“Miaohua” isn’t just an art series — it has also grown into a lifestyle brand called Jipin.

“I wanted art to return to daily life — not just hang on museum walls.”

He applies the “Miaohua” visual language to scarves, cups, and homeware — turning art into something you can actually use.

It’s his quiet way of challenging the distance between contemporary art and ordinary people.
True beauty, he says, isn’t about grand concepts — it’s about what we can live with, touch, and feel every day.

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🧭 Rethinking “Sharing”

Xiong used to be a minor internet celebrity, with over 100,000 followers on Weibo.
Then, one day, he deleted everything.

“Back then, I cared too much about what others thought.
Now I think sharing shouldn’t be about exposure — it’s about preserving something worth remembering.”

In an age obsessed with visibility, his silence feels almost radical.
He’s not retreating — he’s returning to the starting point: creation itself.

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💡 A Word for Young Creators

“Don’t let yourself be defined too early.
The future won’t belong to single-skill specialists — it’ll belong to people who can think across disciplines and respond to real problems.”

He sees design and creation as tools for understanding life itself.

“Creating isn’t about escaping reality — it’s about facing it with more clarity and empathy.”

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🌏 Closing Thoughts

On the surface, Miaohua is a flower — but for Xiong, it’s a metaphor.
It’s what happens when life frees itself from definition and begins to grow again.

Maybe each of us, in our own way, is also waiting for that quiet, personal bloom — our own Miaohua.