“Life Most Intense” was an exhibition I curated for an artist that I had first met barely a year before. Nevertheless， he had been painting for himself for more than a dozen years. Since completing his MA in 2004， Ma Ke has had more than enough time to develop his style and refine his focus. His paintings were mature， their subjects and impact astonishing， not merely because the artist was passionate about painting in a way rarely seen in China – although it is perhaps fairer to say passionate in a way that has not been fashionable in more than a decade（for reasons aligned with the interaction between art circles in China and the West， and of the urgent and nonlinear approach that has evolved to convey a contemporary position）. Ma Ke’s contrary attitude， an obsessive interest in the substance of paint and the drama of the illusory reality that paintings present， placed a veil over his presence in the contemporary arena in China. At the same time， where his style drew the favor and support of a number of collectors and followers who provided for his needs， a further distance between artist and public was ensured. For the artist， then， Life Most Intense was a significant introduction of his work： a presentation of approximately thirty paintings that Ma Ke had created in the preceding years （from 2009 to 2012）.
　　To have an exhibition time frame as deadline was cathartic. Ma Ke had previously produced a number of large works， but was now encouraged to expand both the scale of the paintings and the cast of characters depicted. Visually， both the men and women in his works had evolved a particular physical body type， which was squat and thick， in the same way that the term “big-boned” is applied. Oddly proportioned and habitually painted in a standing posture – a choice aligned with the artist’s flair for theatrical drama – the figures appeared distorted， as if by a camera lens， or as the reflection in a body-bending mirror. Ma Ke confided that neither the female figures in the compositions， nor their male counterparts， were intended to reference fixed gender types， nor was their collective physical attitude transposed from an actual real-life model. They were， instead， each an expression of himself， or of an aspect of human nature he found fascinating； a way of achieving an anatomical presence that expressed the nuances of human interaction he was exploring. With a group of paintings gathered together for exhibition， it was clear that a great deal of that fascination seemed to lie in the darker side of the qualities we recognize as human. 　　The figures – it was Ma Ke’s figure paintings that were the specific subject of Life Most Intense – were， more often than not， presented on their own， or in malefemale binary couplings， always with an edge of unspoken anxiety， tension or despair filling the spaces between them. Often， these particular pairings were awarded a dark background， almost entirely black， out of which the players emerged like actors on a minimalist stage – see， for example， Open Sky， Love Story of the Empire， or Who Will Gain Supremacy – in the midst of an assumed tragedy directed by the hands of an unseen power concealed in the black depths above. Similarly， the lone male figures were imbued with a common aura of insecurity， largely precipitated by the uncommon articles they held， as well as the actions in which they appeared to be engaged. For those compositions containing the single figure of a woman， the aura was lighter， more tentative perhaps for being soaked in what can be described as a feminine palette of color. Together these components managed to insinuate a sense of vulnerability within the condition of these women. Nonetheless， their expressions were as easily read as anguish as they were nonchalance， or simply a moment’s daydreaming.
　　Both men and women were often shown with their hands clasped together before them， a pictorial device that， along with the physical form and hunched posture of many of the figures， was repeated across numerous paintings. Seen again and again， the effect was to suggest the kind of handwringing that augurs no good – think of the figure of Mr. Micawber in Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield， say， or Lu Xun’s titular character Ah Q. Ma Ke’s view of humanity here appeared to be somewhat perplexed， whether that be by its qualities of evil， weakness or vulnerability – or of its propensity to be led astray or to instigate violence. As a result， the paintings achieved a powerful impact. They had a certain magnificence about them that arose from the mix of fascination and repulsion that viewers experienced in their presence. But even at their most extreme， where the content or the nature of the subject matter seemed to stray into unsavory emotional states， the physical quality of the paint on Ma Ke’s canvases was an unerringly redeeming factor.