Yang Yifan, in the Long Night of Youth

In Yang Yifan’s paintings, something always seems about to happen, yet never quite does. A girl reaches for a piece of fruit, a woman holds an axe, someone sleeps, a rabbit rests on a shoulder. Around them are misted greenhouses, forests, boats, plants growing almost too luxuriantly and fruit on the verge of decay. It is a humid, suspended world, at once seductive and slightly unsettling. The “long night” evoked by the exhibition is not simply darkness. It is that period of youth when we do not yet quite know who we are or where we are going. Yang’s figures may appear lost, but they are not passive: they continue to touch, gather, work and seek the closeness of another body. Animals and fruit become clues too. A goat can suggest vulnerability and survival; a bitten apple preserves the trace of a desire. In this way, Yang creates inner landscapes without the need to tell a precise story. In his paintings, the night lasts a long time, but it is not endless: somewhere, even if it cannot yet be seen, lies the possibility of dawn.