Which books inspired the artists? No creator is an island.

Pull back the curtain of the artist's studio,and pay attention to an often-overlooked detail: the books on their desks.

Here unfolds the silent yet stirring prelude to creation—
Munch captured the contours of The Scream in Ibsen's dramatic monologues;
Hokusai reconstructed The Great Wave off Kanagawa from the taotie patterns in Classic of Mountains and Seas.

On this "World Book Day,"
Oui Art invites you into the intellectual backstage of 28 artists.
In their interviews,
they shared their dog-eared "youthful reads"
or fondly recalled their "intellectual catalysts."

These reading lists are not answers but invitations:
When we intersect with an artist's reading trajectory,
it becomes a cross-medium collaboration.

"Konrad Fiedler is a missed exemplar in our academic circles—a thinker who consciously reflects on sensibility. Many scholars and artists call him the 'father of art studies.' His language clarifies the ineffable and invisible internal relationships, guiding us past the distractions of concrete imagery to key signposts in a foggy relational web. In an era where contemporary iconography struggles with symbolic decoding, rereading Fiedler is methodologically enlightening. For example: 'True art always strips away what life imposes on us, guiding us back to nature and ourselves.' 'The fundamental task of art is to liberate vision from its servitude to cognition.' One cannot embark on the creative path without entering their inner world. Fiedler is a crucial beacon that kept me from losing myself in my own labyrinth."

"A rare gem of German literature, brimming with Eastern wisdom. A century-old work that, when listened to today, feels like standing in an aura of inspiration, where truth faintly reveals itself in moments of tranquility. I listened to the German version; I haven’t read the Chinese translation."

"Order emerging from chaos—this gave me much inspiration. The interplay of data and consciousness generates countless possibilities, which I use to create and push my boundaries."

"The 1984 edition of Sengcan’s Faith in Mind is a classic of Fluxus poetry. I bought it in Tokyo 30 years ago from a Japanese youth who specialized in Fluxus books. The cover features calligraphy by a Japanese woman, with the left page in three languages (English, French, German) and the right in Chinese calligraphy. For example, page 19 reads: 'Facing emptiness—all transformations arise from erroneous perceptions.' This multilingual collaborative translation, including George Brecht’s English version, Robert Filliou’s French, and Albrecht Fabri’s German, offers a deeper understanding of the original Zen text."

"Only Pessoa’s language can describe his thoughts, penetrating the modern condition of isolation, where reality and illusion, freedom and confinement intertwine. His ideas connect deeply with ancient philosophy, his era, and today’s human state."

"A noble youth abandons wealth for the forest, navigating asceticism, riches, and desire before awakening to life’s truth. This novel, blending Buddhist wisdom and Western humanism, taught me solitude and introspection, reshaping my creative and life pursuits. Certain passages even transformed into visual art for me."

"A controversial compilation of ancient myths by a self-taught scholar with two decades of research. His alternative readings, influenced by Gu Jiegang, ignited my curiosity about Chinese goddess worship, leading to my fieldwork project Molding Nuwa, where I explored matriarchal ruins and pottery shards, stitching myth and fragments into art."

"Bresson’s notes are profound personal reflections and universal truths. Two gems: 'Rhythm’s power—only what’s fixed in rhythm endures. Let content obey form, meaning obey rhythm.' 'Carve wind-etched water, sculpt shadowless wind.'"

"Published in 1971, at the height of hippie culture, Brautigan’s whimsical, hallucinatory prose flows with unrestrained Zen. The author, who once smashed a police station window to get jailed, later wrote amid electroshock therapy—a figure as light and intriguing as his work."

This book explains in highly accessible language the systemic knowledge behind glucose as a crucial human energy source, along with various issues and solutions regarding sugar intake in modern diets. Though I haven't finished reading it yet, I’m already struck by the profound tension between food as the ultimate vehicle of desire and pleasure versus the body’s actual needs. When viewed through the lens of China’s rich and diverse culinary culture and dietary structure, it becomes clear that the eating habits we’ve developed since childhood are like the proverbial frog slowly boiled in water—comfortable at first, but inevitably reaching a boiling point.

This is anthropologist Anna Tsing’s field study and philosophical exploration of the rare matsutake mushroom. The book traces the mushroom’s journey through the ruins of globalization—from being foraged by immigrants in the logged forests of Oregon to its consumption in Japan’s high-end markets—revealing how nonlinear, decentralized symbiotic relationships can still foster life amid the ecological devastation wrought by "end-times" capitalism. What inspires me about this book is how it expands my understanding of "ecology" and "collaboration." Not all order stems from grand designs; some of the most beautiful forms of life emerge quietly from chaos and ruin. It has led me to reconsider the role of "hybridity" and "uncertainty" in art and creation—it is precisely these uncontrollable, imperfect relationships that shape the real world and its future possibilities.

Alex Danchev’s Cézanne’s Letters, translated from French into English and first published in 2013 by Thames & Hudson Ltd. in the UK, is an honest, wise, and deeply human book that transcends the scope of a traditional biography. As a specimen from an era over a century ago, I believe it can still inspire new artistic perspectives today. Cézanne was a unique thinker and an uncompromising seeker of artistic truth, whose reflections encompassed philosophy, psychology, and social context. Art teaches us to observe carefully, to quiet down and distill, to understand the essence and inner relationships of things. It is a way of seeing and engaging with the world—a worldview and a value system unto itself.

The Vanished Martial World is an oral account by Li Zhongxuan, compiled by director Xu Haofeng. This book is highly readable—I've revisited it multiple times without ever finding it dull. It subtly conveys the captivating essence of traditional cultural life, embodying what we often describe as "literature as a vehicle for the Dao."

"'Behold that poor creature. That Point is a being like ourselves, yet confined to the abyss of zero dimensions. To him, he is his own world, his own universe. Beyond himself, he has no concept of anything else. He knows neither length, width, nor height, for he has never experienced these dimensions. He has never contemplated numbers; even the number 2 is foreign to him, for he is both 1 and all—yet in truth, he is nothing. Still, see how content he is. Learn from him: complacency is ugliness and ignorance; aspiration and ambition are far better than ignorant, passive happiness. Now, listen.'" My creative work resonates deeply with Flatland.

In my studio, I keep a 1982 edition of The Outline of History by H.G. Wells, translated by Wu Wen-tsao, Bing Xin, and Fei Xiaotong. Written in the aftermath of World War I, a century ago, the book describes a world of "unprecedented scarcity and profound mourning." When discussing continental drift, Wells writes that as the mantle churns, the floating continents rotate upon its surface, much like bubbles or scum swirling in a pot. In my own creative practice, painting has transcended its traditional easel-bound form, resembling instead fragments of drifting land—more sculptural, marked by mobile, structured traces. It reflects an intimate relationship between body, scale, movement, and temporality.

Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities fascinates me. This is an anti-linear urban narrative woven through fiction and imagination, infinitely recombinable. Through discontinuous reading, one can freely assemble urban spaces that refuse completion, always retaining narrative interfaces—each rereading feels like decompressing a new program. It perfectly mirrors contemporary urban existence: we navigate through perpetual recombination of information fragments, constructing temporary Babel towers in chaotic databases. Both its narrative structure and enigmatic sentences guide my creative path: "In the city of his dreams, the youth arrives; by the time he reaches Isidora, he is old." (P6) "A space not yet filled with words." (P39) "A sheet of paper with drawings on both sides that can neither be separated nor viewed simultaneously." (P105)

This book serves as an essential and excellent reader for understanding Serra's work. His abstract sculptures, distinguished by their "mass, space, environment, and viewer participation," stand uniquely in art history. Serra remains a paragon of artistic independence and freedom. In 1989, his site-specific work Tilted Arc for the Federal Plaza in New York was destroyed by the U.S. government, becoming a sensational case of art confronting politics. In this book, Serra details the entire process of creating and the destruction of this work, demonstrating his unwavering stance against political and commercial compromise.

A slim volume that reveals how artists transcend stereotypes. Smithson emerges as richly dimensional, deeply emotional.

An introductory text on Chinese landscape painting that functions simultaneously as methodology, lyrical poetry, and art history. The book offers me fresh perspectives on viewing the world, as the author states: "The landscape before seeing landscape paintings, and the landscape after seeing them, are two different worlds." Understanding the poetic imagery of Chinese landscapes and rediscovering Chinese aesthetics has infused my creative process with boundless philosophical depth.

Art is wisdom that observes the world through the heart, not merely clever ideas. Great art isn't assembled from stories but perpetually radiates extraordinary presence and energy. Only by truly comprehending cosmic philosophy can one embed profound meaning in art. When facing creative blocks, art may ascend to higher levels—testing the artist's cultivation. Truly remarkable artists know their worth clearly, thus awaiting their moment with serenity.

This academic monograph, adopting a female perspective, focuses on unseen emotional付出 and invisible labor. Through sociology, gender studies and psychology, it guides readers to re-examine how emotional labor's value is overlooked within social evaluation systems, aiming to build a fairer world. While emotional value may seem commonplace, the labor behind it remains a neglected social issue. Within mainstream evaluation frameworks, emotional permeates fluidly and unconsciously. As a female artist, analyzing emotional value across different domains based on facts is fascinating. The derived issues of emotional control and human empathy have reignited my research interest in power imbalances. The book's case studies, employing statistical methods, provide enlightenment and help me re-examine my creative and social research dilemmas with more rational perspective.

Shakespeare's complete works were my favorite university reading. Whenever asked "which book influenced you most," it immediately comes to mind. The words thunder, resonating powerfully; Shakespeare wields language like Zeus wields lightning—directly striking the soul. It nourished my intellectually hungry freshman self. The second book, Records of the Grand Historian, through its concise language and powerful summarization, revealed certain personality and spirit qualities lacking in contemporary China. The third, Guy Debord's The Society of the Spectacle, read as an e-book during the pandemic, expanded my understanding of our world—the alienation between people and society, the political logic and geography of the spectacle society, and the complex reflective relationships in human society. All grand narratives and so-called changes have causes and effects, mutually generating and mirroring each other, providing significant inspiration for my current work.

When first studying photography, I was awed by this pioneer observer/creator's gravitas. Gradually I understood this approach rooted in visual anthropology wasn't merely technical agility but required life experience to comprehend and preserve. As a devoted follower of subsequent generations, I maintain firm confidence in inheriting and expanding this legacy. The master's influence remains as enduring as mountains and rivers.

Drawn by its title, I sought out this Calvino work due to my interest in urban experiences. Reading it felt like dreaming, with cities themselves as protagonists—ever-changing entities encompassing multitudes, simultaneously complete memories and complete desires. "This is an exaggerated city: everything repeats endlessly so people may remember themselves." So too do we repeat in cycles.

This exhibition catalog published by Fondazione Prada primarily explores the relationship between art and sound from the 16th century to present, examining how musicians and visual artists manifest cross-disciplinary creations in music. Featuring 180 works, many have inspired our own creations, making this a recent favorite.

Around age 20, I read Fu Lei's Chinese translation of Romain Rolland's Jean-Christophe. One scene remains unforgettable: on a cold winter morning after his father's funeral, young Christophe accompanies his uncle home. As they part ways over a hill, his uncle advises: "You must face each new day with reverence—don't think about what may come in a year or ten years. Treat each day with piety, love it, respect it, and above all, never dishonor it... Give it your all." These words profoundly influenced my approach to both artistic creation and life, continuing to inspire me to this day.

When I first encountered this book in 2016, I found it extraordinarily challenging. Yet its very obscurity compelled me to keep reading—a mesmerizing yet mentally exhausting experience. My current creative themes exploring cultural flux, "the newcomer," and human desire all bear this book's influence. Concepts like "the monstrous," "the arrivant," and "différance" have particularly informed my work. As Derrida told Elizabeth Weber in 1990: "The future is necessarily monstrous: the future of our unexpected, surprising future comes from monsters and monstrous species. A future that wouldn't be monstrous wouldn't be a future; it would already be predictable, calculable, programmable. To welcome the future, we must prepare to receive the monstrous newcomer."

I'm particularly drawn to "The Circular Ruins" from Borges' story collection. This tale holds special meaning for me, especially its ending where the sorcerer walks into flames to leave the world, only to realize he's but another's dreamt phantom. The story metaphorically reveals connections between self-growth and creative transformation. The "fire" represents those life-altering realizations—people or events that spark organic, unhurried change, which itself becomes a pathway to understanding one's expressive circumstances. The sorcerer mirrors our waking self; the youth he dreams represents our limited ego, unaware of the greater self. Only when reality strikes like fire do we comprehend how world and self form two indispensable components of independent identity. Authentic artistic expression must balance contemporary immediacy with epoch-transcending personal experience to achieve organic wholeness—a valuable slice of existence.

Interaction

After exploring these artists' reading lists, tell us "Which book do you most want to read?"
Join the conversation in the comments!
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