Singapore
CNN
—
Before the ravages of World War II, Paris was the center of the art world. The city’s salons, schools and cafes attracted painters from around the globe, with Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, Piet Mondrian and Salvador Dalí among the many émigrés gravitating to France’s capital during the 1920s and ‘30s.
Artists arriving from Asia, however, faced a very different set of expectations than their European counterparts. Paris may have been a melting pot of foreign cultures (by the standards of the day, at least), but it was also the heart of a colonial empire with a fascination for all things exotic.
“It seems that oil is a medium that is too heavy for their hands,” French art critic Henri Lormian wrote dismissively of the Vietnamese painters on show at a modern art exhibition in Paris in 1933. Instead, they were “habituated to light strokes of the brush,” he argued, adding: “It is the memories of the arts of the Far East which seduce, much more than a laboriously acquired Western technique.”
In other words, their art was not “Asian” enough, nor their attempts to embrace European art good enough, for his liking.
Amid marginalization and disinterest, a generation of little-known artists from Japan, China, French Indochina and elsewhere in Asia nonetheless made their mark on Paris in the interwar period. Many were compelled to balance the influence of their cosmopolitan surroundings with the exoticized tastes of potential customers.
Now, a century later, some of the era’s pioneers — aided by Asian collectors’ growing purchasing power — are belatedly earning the kind of recognition bestowed on their Western contemporaries.
Take Le Pho, a Vietnamese artist whom the critic Lormian had once disparaged over a nude painting he deemed “too occidental” — too Western. His paintings now fetch sums exceeding the million-dollar threshold, making him one of Southeast Asia’s most bankable names. His “La famille dans le jardin,” a leisurely scene evoking French Impressionism but delicately painted on silk, sold for 18.6 million Hong Kong dollars ($2.3 million) in 2023, an auction record for his work.
Then there’s Sanyu, a painter whose signature nudes — their flat perspective and flowing calligraphic lines informed as much by his Chinese art education as French modernism — now attract astronomical sums. He achieved little commercial success after moving to Paris from his native Sichuan in 1921 and died in poverty four decades later. Today, however, he is hailed as the “Chinese Matisse,” with the 2020 sale of a rare group portrait, “Quatre Nus,” for 258 million Hong Kong dollars ($33 million) confirming his status as one of contemporary art’s most coveted names.
The experience of Asian artists in Europe is also attracting renewed academic interest thanks, in part, to a new exhibition at Singapore’s National Gallery. Almost 10 years in the making, “City of Others: Asian Artists in Paris, 1920s-1940s” brings together more than 200 works from the period, many on loan from French institutions and private Asian collections.
Le Pho and Sanyu feature prominently, as do Japanese artist Tsuguharu Foujita and two of Singapore’s best-known painters, Liu Kang and Georgette Chen. The show spotlights how they grappled with their identities through searching self-portraits, landscapes depicting their adopted homeland and street scenes showing Paris through outsiders’ eyes. References to major Western art movements like Cubism and Surrealism are meanwhile limited, eschewing the conventional lens through which the era is usually viewed.
“We thought, ‘Well, if our story is about Asian artists in Paris, we should map their concerns, not try to map the concerns of Eurocentric art history onto them,’” the exhibition’s lead curator Phoebe Scott told CNN at the preview, adding: “Otherwise, we’re just reiterating the significance of Paris without giving something new from our region.”
The artists’ dual identities are often expressed through the combination of Eastern and Western techniques. Foujita’s “Self-Portrait with Cat,” which depicts the artist surrounded by paint brushes and supplies in his studio, nods both to European and Japanese traditions, its fine lines informed by “sumi-e” ink paintings. Elsewhere, works present various Asian sensibilities, from compositions evoking ancestral portraits to the use of unusually thin canvases reminiscent of paper or silk.
Other paintings demonstrate the artists overlooked mastery of styles like Impressionism. A selection of Chen’s rural landscapes, produced on a trip to Provence, ooze with the warmth of Paul Cézanne; Japanese painter Itakura Kanae’s striking portrait of his wife, “Woman in Red Dress,” reflects the classical tendencies of “rappel à l’ordre” (or “Return to Order”), a French movement that responded to the upheavals of World War I by rejecting the avant-garde.
As well as absorbing influences, Asian artists in turn shaped European art, said Scott. The Paris scene had a “hybridizing aesthetic,” she added, citing the influence of African art on Picasso’s oeuvre as an example. And the presence of Asian painters added to the cultural mix, tapping into the longstanding interest in orientalist aesthetics evident in the “Japonisme” of the late 19th century, when a fervor for Japanese art, furniture and artifacts swept Europe.
“It’s difficult to say that any individual modern Asian artist who came (to Paris) influenced French art,” Scott said. “But was there an Asian impact, in general, on French art? Absolutely.”
For France’s more established Asian artists, life often revolved around the multicultural Montparnasse district, home of the so-called School of Paris.
They shopped for supplies in the neighborhood’s art stores and networked in its bohemian cafes. It was here that Sanyu refined his observational skills by attending open life drawing sessions at the Académie de la Grande Chaumière (which, to this day, welcomes the public to its walk-in life drawing classes for a modest fee).
Foujita, meanwhile, was a prominent figure in the Montparnasse scene and a friend of the celebrated Italian painter Amedeo Modigliani, among others. The community there comprised “people of over 50 nationalities, including those from countries so obscure their names are barely known,” Foujita wrote in 1936. “It is no wonder this environment fosters unconventional ideas and creativity.”
There was a commercial imperative, too: Showing at the district’s commercial galleries and salons could help artists sell work or meet potential buyers. A local market for their art existed, and some were “very financially successful” at the time, Scott said, adding: “But Paris was a crowded market for attention. Even if you got a commercial show, it didn’t necessarily mean that you could make money.”
Forging a social circle like Foujita’s was a “key factor” determining their success, said Scott. “Some (Asian) artists had a very good network of connections in Paris that could support them — people they knew, or art critics who would champion their work.”
Yet, solo exhibitions and patronage were out of reach for the vast majority of migrant artists. In recognition of this, a section of the Singapore exhibition is dedicated to the artisans who worked in France’s decorative arts workshops, playing an important — but largely anonymous — role in the Art Deco movement. An estimated one-quarter of Indochinese workers living in Paris were lacquerers, and a selection of their jewelry and objects d’art are displayed as testament to this uncredited role.
The exhibition ends — like some of the international artists’ time in France — with World War II. Those who returned home (or were drafted by their countries) often faced difficulties returning. Among them was Foujita, whose place in art history is complicated by his role in Japan’s war effort: He dedicated his wartime practice to glorifying the efforts and bravery of the Imperial Army, severely hampering his reputation upon his return to France in 1950.
The reputation of Paris changed, too. Although promising Asian creatives continued to arrive in the post-war period (among them were Wu Guanzhong and the abstract painter Zao Wou-ki, now two of the art market’s biggest-selling names), the city was no longer the epicenter of the art world. New York was increasingly the destination of choice for budding young migrants, but the industry was also, the exhibition argues, becoming more fragmented, a precursor to today.
“New sites and hubs gained in significance with the energy of decolonization, asserting their independence and cultural identity,” the exhibition notes read. “The post-war period marked the beginnings of a less hierarchical global art world.”
“City of Others: Asian Artists in Paris, 1920s-1940s” is showing at National Gallery Singapore until Aug. 17, 2025.
