In 1996, Song Dong (b. 1966) sat cross-legged in the Lhasa River in Tibet, repeatedly stamping the water with a large wooden seal carved with the Chinese character for “water,” 水 (shui) (Figure 1). Song’s stamping left the river unaffected. The water retained its fluidity and gracefully flowed through the Lhasa River. This performance piece, known as Stamping the Water, is only one example of Song’s numerous works that play with water. Song’s persistent engagement with water is no mere accident, which begs the question: What draws Song to repeatedly employ water as a medium, and how does it intertwine with his artistic and philosophical outlook? This paper aims to uncover the reasons behind Song’s obsession with water and to explore the intricate ways he merges the water motif with the concepts of futility and impermanence in his oeuvre. The paper will start with a brief introduction to Song and the broader landscape of contemporary Chinese art since the ‘85 Movement. Following that, the paper will delve into water as both a material and concept, unraveling how Song explores the themes of futility and transience with water. Through repetition and an oxymoronic self-concealing self-revelation, Song skillfully employs the shapeless, fluid, and ephemeral qualities of water to reflect upon futility and impermanence while simultaneously transcending their boundaries.

Born and raised in Beijing, Song was introduced to painting and calligraphy at a young age. He studied oil painting in the Fine Arts Department of Capital Normal University and completed his degree in 1989. In early 1985, a renewal of official support for intellectual exchange with the West began, exposing Chinese artists to Western philosophy, history, and aesthetics. Known as the ’85 Movement, avant-gardism flourished throughout China, freeing Chinese artists from the constraints of previous years. In November 1985, Rauschenberg visited Beijing and exhibited his artwork, marking the first opportunity for the Chinese public to see original works by a contemporary Western artist (Gao 2011). Rauschenberg’s visit, along with the ‘85 Movement, left a profound impact on young Chinese artists including Song. Influenced by Rauschenberg’s radical art form, Song abandoned traditional painting for more experimental mediums including video, performance, and photography.

The popularity of installation and performance art in 1990s China facilitated the prevalence of water as a material for artmaking. The interest in water among Chinese artists can be traced back to Chinese ink painting and calligraphy. In the long history of Chinese ink art, water is featured prominently in the various forms of clouds, rivers, and lakes, dominating landscape or shanshui (“mountain water”) art. The vitality and expressiveness of brushstrokes in ink painting and calligraphy heavily rely on the watery nature of ink and the evaporation of water (Clark 2006). The transparency and flexibility of water between its different states allow for diverse representations in Chinese art.

For Song, water’s transparent, formless, and ephemeral nature allows him to incorporate water into his artwork both materially and conceptually. In his water-themed works, repetition is a recurring element to foreground the concept of futility. In Frying Water (1992), Song repeatedly “stir-fries” water, causing it to evaporate and vanish. Despite his laborious efforts, the continuous stirring results in nothing but ephemeral traces of the evaporated water (Figure 2). Similarly, Song’s insistent act of stamping in Stamping proves futile, as it does not change the water’s physical state. However, despite his inability to leave a physical mark on the water, Song asserts spiritual and conceptual efficacy through the act of purifying the water with repeated stamping (Lin 2023). Inspired by Tibetan ritual culture where practitioners dip a figurine of the historical Buddha into the Lhasa River to imbue it with the Buddha’s spirit, Song stamps the word “water” in the river to purify water ­– an act materially futile yet symbolically impactful. As Song explains, when the Buddha is placed in the water, only the shape of the Buddha – not the Buddha himself – is in the water. Once lifted out of the water, the Buddha in the water disappears, leading to a state of “absence” but also a state of “presence” since when the Buddha is taken out, it is still there (Lin 2023). Here, the “absence” and “presence” seem to intertwine. As Song suggests in his conceptual sketch for Stamping, sometimes the power of absence surpasses that of presence (Lin 2023). In Stamping, the boundaries between “meaninglessness” and “meaningfulness” are similarly blurred. Although Song’s stamping seems meaningless as it fails to mark the material water, this insistent action carries spiritual and metaphysical weight, rendering the act meaningful in its “meaninglessness.”

Song’s deliberate choice of carrying out his water-themed works in a private, personal manner reveals his unique approach to the theme of impermanence. In Writing Diary with Water (1995), Song writes about his daily activities and meditations on a stone slab with a calligraphy brush dipped in water (like writing a diary) (Figure 3). Without ink, what Song has written on the stone can only last for a short duration. Much like what happens in Frying Water, the eventual evaporation of water, along with everything he has written, makes the entire process ephemeral and futile (Clark 2006). The private aspect of Writing Diary further strengthens its transient nature. Song immerses himself in the act of writing with water, deliberately excluding an audience. The public can only view this work through photographs taken for exhibition purposes. This inherent privacy, combined with the inevitable disappearance of the water writings, renders the content of Song’s diary completely unknowable and untraceable. In this way, Song intensifies the ephemeral essence of his work.

This deeply private piece, however, allows Song to express himself freely. Song wrote about things that he could not tell others (Gao 2011). Without an audience, Song could fully engage in the process of self-expression and self-exploration, in some way serving as catharsis and self-revelation. In 2001, Writing Diary was exhibited for the first time in “Living in Time,” but Song refused to exhibit the rock or to write in front of the public because he considered it to be a very private act (Gao 2011). Keeping the fleeting diary only to himself, Song fashions a self-revelation that resides in a nuanced form of self-concealment to protect the “purity” of his work from potential interference or distortion by the public.

Besides its private nature, Writing Diary is a deeply personal work, carrying the artist’s experience with and memories of water. Writing Diary recalls Song’s childhood memory of practicing calligraphy under his father’s guidance without ink or paper (Clark 2006). Beyond the biographical dimension, Song’s unique experience of expressing, revealing, and recording himself through writing with water is very memorable. Although what Song has written on the stones remains inaccessible to the public and his future self, writing out things personally meaningful to him and watching them appear and disappear in situ is an unforgettable experience. In my interview with Song, he conveyed that an event is memorable only when it holds personal significance, and its memorability largely depends on how one remembers it. The private, undisturbed process of writing about his present and past with water, as well as witnessing them materialize and vanish, crystallizes into a unique memory Song remembers and will continue to remember. Although the details of his diaries have not been physically documented, the essence of Writing Diary is preserved and eternalized in Song’s mind as a cherished memory.

According to Song, the ephemeral water records were intended to be “random fragments of memory, imprecise, incorrect, incomprehensive, and incomplete” (Smart Museum of Art 2020). I argue that these “imperfections” embody the “perfectness” of the work, as they showcase the authenticity and purity of the artist’s memories and reveal how he remembers his past and present. When someone offered to buy his rock with 200,000 yuan in 1996, Song declined as he considered the work to be part of his life, which he simply could not sell (Gao 2011). Internalizing his artwork as part of his memories and “self,” Song transforms a physical work into a personal memento and spiritually enduring emblem.

Song’s art mirrors the exact nature of water: fluid, ephemeral, yet impactful. In Song’s water-themed works, his distinctive use of repetition and focus on privacy and personal significance make the “meaningless” meaningful, the transient enduring. With the use of repetition, Song transforms physical futility into conceptual efficacy. Through privately performing Writing Diary in a physically ephemeral way, Song preserves his personal memories in their original and “pure” states and internalizes them to be part of him. Water, with its inherent formlessness, ambiguity, and flexibility, becomes a fitting metaphor. With the medium of water, Song in the form of self-concealment skillfully reveals his power in challenging the dichotomies between futility and efficacy, ephemerality and permanence.

Fig. 1. Song Dong, Stamping the Water, 1996, Chromogenic print. Guggenheim Museum Publications, New York. Courtesy the artist and Pace Gallery.

Fig. 2. Song Dong, stills from Frying Water, 1992, single-channel color video, sound, 1 min. 40 sec. (artwork © Song Dong, courtesy the artists and Pace Gallery). From: Lin, Nancy P. “Song Dong’s Performative Futility: Action, Impact, and Efficacy in Contemporary Chinese Performance Art.” Art Journal 82, no.1 (2023): 34–57.

Fig. 3. Song Dong, Writing Diary with Water, 1995, Color photograph. Vigneron. Frank, Chinese Contemporary Art Images Teaching Collection.