From Historical Appearance to the Turn of Vision: Chen Tao-Ming, 1952–1965

Abstract

This paper focuses on the artistic trajectory of Taiwanese artist Chen Tao-Ming from 1952 to 1965, re-examining his “period of emergence” and perceptual shifts within the context of postwar East Asian modern art. It argues that although Chen began exploring abstraction as early as the 1950s and actively participated in founding the Ton-Fan Group and its international touring exhibitions, his artistic practice was never merely a stylistic evolution. Rather, it consistently engaged with the conditions and generative processes of seeing. By analyzing key works such as Structure (1952), The Wanderer (1957), and Towards Life (1959), this study reveals how his creations unfolded amid tensions between historical visibility, exhibition systems, and cultural diplomacy. After gradually withdrawing from the exhibition circuit in 1965, Chen entered a decade- long period of retreat, which eventually led, in 1975, to a sustained experimental practice on paper that questioned the very mechanisms of perception. This paper contends that Chen’s emergence and retreat were not oppositional phases, but formed a continuous trajectory from the borders of history toward the roots of perception. In doing so, this research not only reconstructs the historical position of a selectively forgotten modern

artist, but also proposes an alternative methodology for art historical writing grounded in the act of seeing itself.

Emergence Between History and Vision: Chen Tao- Ming’s Origins and Rupture

In the historiography of postwar modern art in Taiwan, an artist’s “emergence” is often defined through institutional visibility: fame, inclusion, exhibition, publication. Yet Chen Tao-Ming’s emergence followed an entirely different trajectory. He emerged early— earlier than systems, earlier than discourse, and even before modernism had consciously taken root in Taiwan

—beginning his exploration of abstraction in quiet

defiance of convention.

Born in Jinan, Shandong in 1931, Chen experienced displacement from an early age. At the age of eight, he fled wartime turmoil with his family to Lanzhou, Gansu, where he studied ink painting for a decade under the painter Pei Chien-Chung. This early training was more than a technical foundation in brush and ink; it cultivated a deep sensitivity to line, rhythm, and what might be called metaphysical space. Amid the loess landscape and Dunhuang frescoes of China’s northwest, Chen learned to see—not to mimic the appearances of nature, but to seek its internal flow of energy and force.

In 1949, Chen relocated to Taiwan with the Nationalist government and enrolled in Western painting at the Taipei Normal School. Rather than continuing with traditional ink, he chose to rebuild his visual language through oil paint and modern forms. At the time, this was far from a conventional choice—Western painting was not merely a medium but a system laden with colonial history and institutional authority. For a young artist yet to find his place, it represented both a promise of freedom and the risk of disorientation.

But Chen did not become disoriented. He moved rapidly beyond figuration and into non-representational forms.

This was not driven by stylistic ambition but by a visceral reaction to the oversaturation of reality—war, politics, and ideology. As art critic Richard Vine observed in 2023, Chen’s abstraction was a form of “hyper-subjective abstraction,” rooted not in the dissolution of imagery but in the reassembly of the mechanisms of seeing. His brushwork constructed a nonverbal order, turning the canvas into a field where psyche and culture intertwined.

Notably, this “abstract emergence” unfolded alongside a rupture in historical visibility. There was no media amplification, no institutional endorsement; and for decades, art criticism and academic discourse largely chose to overlook his presence. Precisely for this reason, revisiting Chen Tao-Ming’s work before 1965 is not

simply an act of historical recovery—it is an invitation to rethink fundamental questions: If artistic value is not predicated on visibility, exhibition, or circulation, then where does it take form? And how does it leave a trace in the fissures of history?

The Beginning of Abstraction: Structure, 1952 Within the chronology of Chen Tao-Ming’s artistic

production, the painting Structure (1952) stands as a rare

foundational cornerstone. Never publicly exhibited nor included in any official exhibition record at the time, the work resurfaced over a decade later in American scholar Linda Margaret Graves’ 1965 master’s thesis Contemporary Chinese Painting in Taiwan, where it was reproduced as Figure 19 and clearly identified as a 1952 creation. This may be one of the earliest known instances of abstract painting in Taiwan.

The composition is chromatically dense and structurally loose. In her thesis, Graves wrote: “This painting is full of colors and rather haphazardly arranged. Although Chen believes the work to contain spatial depth and expresses his admiration for Paul Klee, the picture is flat. Compared with Klee’s works, it remains strongly academic in character.” She further observed that while the viewer might detect an enlargement and simplification of forms toward the edges of the canvas, the overall effect “lacks appeal.”

Graves’ commentary clearly reflects the prevailing aesthetic judgments in art education and criticism at the time, particularly a preference for spatial depth. Her use of the term “flat” carries a dismissive tone, suggesting a lack of pictorial tension and visual layering. Yet from today’s perspective, that very word signals a critical shift. Since Clement Greenberg’s articulation of “medium specificity” in the 1960s, flatness has no longer been considered a shortcoming but a deliberate affirmation of the painting’s two-dimensional nature. In an era shaped by digital vision and Superflat aesthetics, the flatness of Structure may not indicate technical limitation, but instead reveal an unconscious anticipation of a shifting visual paradigm.

More importantly, the painting represents not merely an early exploration of formal vocabulary but a turning point at which the artist began breaking away from traditional brush-and-ink logic, entering into the construction of a personal visual language. In 1952, Taiwan had yet to see any public exhibitions of abstract art, and modernist criticism had not yet taken shape. The appearance of Structure was thus a signal emitted from a near-total vacuum of visual discourse. It was not a mere imitation of Western styles, but a spontaneous exploration of the language of the canvas.

To revisit Structure today is not to claim that the painting was fully mature, but to affirm the significance of its inception. It reminds us that Taiwanese abstraction was not purely an imported phenomenon from the West—it also emerged organically through the inner visual evolution of individual artists. Occurring before any theoretical framework or institutional intervention, Structure embodies the prototypical moment when abstraction became a self-determined language.

The Ton-Fan Group and the “Eight Bandits”: From Collective Experimentation to Cultural Breakthrough

If Structure (1952) marked the personal origin point of Chen Tao-Ming’s abstraction, then the founding of the Ton-Fan Group at the end of 1955 in his Tianmu studio signaled a pivotal transition from individual experimentation to collective artistic practice. Yet the group’s formation was not spontaneous—it had been taking shape between 1951 and 1955, as Chen Tao- Ming, Hsiao Chin, Hsia Yang, Ho Kan, Li Yuan-Chia, Hsiao Ming-Hsien, and Ouyang Wen-Yuan studied painting under the tutelage of Li Chung-Sheng. Through sessions in Li’s Antong Street studio, outdoor sketching excursions, and countless informal gatherings, they gradually constructed an alternative mode of experimental learning—rejecting copying, embracing intuitive freedom, and emphasizing the emergence of individual visual languages.

Li Chung-Sheng was not a conventional art school teacher but a visual awakener. He taught that art was not about technical refinement but about a fundamental reversal in modes of seeing. He encouraged his students to “refuse to imitate the ancients,” to “walk the streets and return to the self.” Drawing from surrealism and psychology, he urged them to create from the unconscious and through improvisation. Within this pedagogical atmosphere, these young artists—long before “modernism” had even been named in Taiwan— were already engaging in experimental actions of visual language transformation on the canvas.

In late 1955, this group formally assembled under the name “Ton-Fan Group,” with eight core members who would later be dubbed by the media as the “Eight Bandits” (Ba Da Xiang Ma): Chen Tao-Ming, Hsiao Chin, Hsia Yang, Ho Kan, Li Yuan-Chia, Hsiao Ming- Hsien, and Ouyang Wen-Yuan. They were neither top graduates of art academies nor official cultural representatives of the state. Rather, they were rebels who wielded pigments and gestures as tools to ransack the established order of vision.

Among them, Chen Tao-Ming stood out. He abandoned representational themes and plunged into material experimentation and gestural dynamism. His canvases bore no images—only traces of qi and force. Artist Hsi

Shi-Chi (Li Hsi-Chi) once recalled: “He painted with great freedom… In the early days he used all sorts of materials, even adding gasoline or tung oil to create natural cracks.” Hsia Yang added, “He used all kinds of techniques—layering varnish, pouring gasoline and water—it turned out beautifully and quite interesting.” These were not technical gimmicks but acts of material struggle—improvised evidences of visual generation.

In 1957, the Ton-Fan Group held their first collective exhibition—not in an official art museum, but in the Hsin Sheng Daily News building. Simultaneously, they held a joint show with Spanish painters in Barcelona, displaying both their international outlook and self- driven agency. Cultural journalist Ho Fan dubbed them the “Eight Bandits”—a tongue-in-cheek nickname that nonetheless captured their “uncertain origins and aggressive methods.” In a Taiwan yet to develop a coherent modern art system, they disrupted the visual order and aesthetic conventions with a single exhibition.

After the group’s founding, most members departed Taiwan: Hsiao Chin went to Europe; Li Yuan-Chia settled in the UK; Hsia Yang and Ho Kan pursued careers in France and Italy, respectively. In contrast, Chen Tao-Ming remained in Taiwan, continuing to deepen his abstract language and material experimentation. He maintained a deliberate distance from the local art scene—neither relying on state

institutions nor seeking validation from Western academies. His abstract works were not produced for exhibitions or market demand, nor driven by stylistic trends. They were a solitary perceptual persistence on the island—a quiet trial of painting’s essence.

The Ton-Fan members believed that the visual resources of history should not merely be preserved as relics of past glory, but reactivated and reimagined through experimental expression in the present. Their aim was not just to innovate visual language, but to suture the fractures between cultural memory and contemporary experience.

The Beginnings of International Exposure: Night and Three Postwar Trajectories of Cultural Diplomacy

In 1956, at the young age of 26, Chen Tao-Ming’s painting Night was selected for the “National Painting and Calligraphy Exhibition” organized by Taiwan’s Ministry of Education. Beyond domestic display, several selected works from the exhibition were chosen as diplomatic gifts to represent the Republic of China at the Constitutional Exhibition held in Bangkok, Thailand, where they were showcased in the “China Pavilion.” According to official records, Night was among these gifts and was subsequently included in the permanent collection of the National Museum Bangkok—marking

Chen’s first official entry into an international museum collection.

This episode signifies not only the beginning of Chen’s international art journey but also reveals how artistic production in the late 1950s was strategically woven into Cold War-era cultural diplomacy. Taiwan’s government, in its campaign to promote the image of “Free China,” actively exported modern-style artworks like Night abroad. The fact that Night was able to cross national borders was not merely a matter of personal agency but also the result of intertwined cultural policy and geopolitical conditions.

Nevertheless, such state-sponsored deployments were not entirely unilateral. In an era of scarce resources for artists, participating in these diplomatic exhibitions offered valuable visibility and legitimacy. For artists like Chen, government platforms became practical avenues for achieving international exposure, while the state in turn utilized the artist’s innovative visual language to project cultural modernity. This was not a simple relationship of power from state to artist, but a mutually beneficial structure—a collaborative arrangement that formed the first trajectory of Chen’s international exposure: state-led cultural diplomacy.

The following year, in 1957, Chen embarked on a second pathway: collective international touring exhibitions. On

December 31, 1955, Chen and fellow young artists Ho Kan, Hsiao Ming-Hsien, Ou-Yang Wen-Yuan, Hsiao Chin, Hsia Yang, Wu Hao, and Li Yuan-Chia formally established the Ton-Fan Group in Chen’s studio in Tianmu. Together they sought to engage Eastern cultural spirit through modern abstraction and launched exhibitions both domestically and abroad. Their inaugural exhibition took place at the Hsin Sheng Daily News building in Taipei, and several works were simultaneously exhibited at Galeria Jardin in Barcelona. One of Chen’s paintings was acquired by the Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona (MACBA), becoming the second of his works to enter a European museum collection.

That same year, Chen also participated in the inaugural Asian Young Artists Exhibition held at Tokyo’s Tokyu Department Store—a third trajectory: international group exhibitions by open submission. Though privately organized in Japan and not sponsored by the Taiwanese government, the exhibition gathered young artists from ten Asian countries, serving as a vital cultural platform in early Cold War Asia. Chen’s entry, The Vagrant, was not listed in the official catalog, but appears on a single- sheet participant list under the name “Dao Ming-Chen,” confirming his participation. It was his first international submission made independently and outside of any state mechanism.

These three trajectories—state-diplomatic gifting, artist- initiated touring exhibitions, and self-funded international submissions—formed the foundation of Chen Tao-Ming’s international career during the early 1960s. They exemplify how postwar Taiwanese art navigated multiple paths into international arenas, simultaneously driven by Cold War cultural strategies and individual agency. In 1959, Chen’s work Vers la vie was selected for the inaugural Paris Biennale for Young Artists and later entered the collection of Taiwan’s National Museum of History. Due to the political fallout from the “Chin Sung Incident” of 1960, however, the work was withdrawn from official exhibitions and instead shown at a United States Information Service (USIS) group exhibition. This episode further illustrates the fraught negotiations between artistic autonomy and institutional power, foreshadowing the deeper turn in Chen’s practice that would follow.

Conclusion: From the Margins of History to the Depth of Vision

After 1965, Chen Tao-Ming gradually withdrew from the exhibition scene, consciously distancing himself from institutional systems of art. If his creative output from 1952 to 1965 marks a period of “emergence,” then the following decade of silence does not signal a halt in

artistic production, but rather a turn inward toward perceptual experimentation.

He never formally announced a retreat, yet his actions signaled a clear shift—ceasing participation in group exhibitions, abandoning official platforms, and opting out of the visible circulation of art. Instead, he entered into a quieter, more introspective mode of making—one barely legible within conventional art-historical narratives.

This period of withdrawal is often regarded as a historical blank space. However, as we have seen, Chen never treated painting as a progression of stylistic forms but as a constant struggle between perception, self, and material reality. From Structure (1952) to The Vagrant (1957) and Vers la vie (1959), his works consistently probe the edges of vision—not to “be seen,” but to regenerate the very act of seeing itself.

By 1975, this silence transformed into the beginning of a new series of paper-based experiments. Chen abandoned canvas and oil paint, severed ties with exhibition routines, and turned to paper and unconventional materials in an open-ended creative process. His visual language shifted from large-scale gestures to the intricate textures of perceptual interplay; from expressive brushwork to material and sensory investigations; from

interventions in history to philosophical critique of the conditions of visibility.

This was not merely a change in medium—it was a reconstruction of vision. And had it not been for the confrontations with institutional norms, aesthetic trends, and representational expectations during 1952–1965, these later experiments could not have emerged.

Through this trajectory, Chen Tao-Ming shows us that

the origin of seeing is often born in absence and inscribed in silence.

《從出場到沉潛：陳道明1952–1965年的觀看轉折》

摘要

本論⽂聚焦台灣藝術家陳道明於1952⾄1965年間的創作歷程，重新檢視其在戰後東亞現代藝術史中的

「出場期」與觀看轉向。雖⾃1950年代即投入抽象

藝術並參與東⽅畫會的創立與海外展演，陳道明的創作始終超越風格演進，聚焦於觀看條件的⽣成與挑戰。透過分析《Structure》（1952）、《流浪者》

（1957）與《尋⽣》（1959）等代表作，本⽂揭⽰其創作如何在歷史可⾒性、展覽制度與⽂化外交之間展開。1965年後，他逐步淡出展覽體系，轉入長期沉潛，並於1975年展開紙上感知實驗。本⽂主

張，「出場」與「沉潛」並非斷裂對立，⽽是構成

⼀條由歷史邊界走向觀看根源的轉化路徑，並提出以觀看為⽅法的另類藝術史書寫可能。

第⼀節〈在歷史與視覺之間出場：陳道明的起點與斷裂〉

在臺灣戰後現代藝術史的書寫中，「出場」多半與制度化的可⾒性掛鉤：成名、入選、展出、出版 等。然⽽，陳道明的出場另闢蹊徑。他極早便開始抽象創作，早於體制建立、語⾔形成，甚⾄早於現代主義在台灣的⾃我覺醒。

出⽣於1931年⼭東濟南，陳道明童年即經歷戰亂，八歲時避居⽢肅蘭州，並隨⽔墨畫家裴建中習畫⼗年。這段經歷不僅奠定了筆墨技藝，更培養了他對線條節奏與形⽽上空間的敏感。在⻄北的黃⼟地與敦煌⽯窟之間，他學會觀看：不為再現⾃然，⽽為感知其內在的氣與勢。

1949年隨國府遷台後，他進入台北師範專修⻄畫，未延續⽔墨傳統，⽽是選擇以油彩與現代形式重構視覺語⾔。當時的⻄畫，不僅是媒材，更承載殖⺠歷史與制度權⼒，對⼀位年輕藝術家⽽⾔，既象徵創作⾃由，也潛藏迷失風險。

然⽽他並未迷失，反⽽迅速跳脫具象，投入非再現的形式探索。這不是對風格的追逐，⽽是⼀種回應過度現實壓⼒的創作選擇——來⾃戰爭、政治與教條的疲乏。如藝術評論者 Richard Vine（2023）所

⾔，陳道明的抽象屬於「過度主觀的抽象」，其根源在於觀看機制的重組。他以筆勢構築非語⾔的秩序，使畫布成為⼼理與⽂化交錯的場域。

值得注意的是，他的「抽象出場」幾乎在歷史記錄之外發⽣——無媒體報導，無制度背書，甚⾄長期在藝術史書寫中被選擇性遺忘。也因此，重新觀看他在1965年前的創作，不只是修補史實，更是提出提問：當藝術不依賴可⾒性或制度流通，它如何⽣成？⼜如何在歷史的縫隙中留下痕跡？

第⼆節：抽象的起點：1952年的《Structure》

陳道明於1952年創作的〈結構〉（Structure），可視為其抽象實驗的起點之⼀。此作未曾公開展出，也未⾒於當時展覽⽂獻，卻意外出現在⼗餘年後美國學者 Linda Margaret Graves 的碩⼠論⽂中，並標註為 1952年作品。此作或可視為⽬前可考的台灣抽象繪畫最早實例之⼀。

畫⾯⾊彩繁複，構圖鬆散。Graves 評述道：「這幅畫充滿各式顏⾊，佈局略顯散亂。雖然陳認為其具

備空間深度，並表達對 Paul Klee 的敬意，但畫⾯是平的，且帶有濃厚學院氣息。」她進⼀步指出，雖可⾒畫⾯邊緣形狀略有放⼤與簡化，整體仍「缺乏吸引⼒」。

然⽽從當代視⾓來看，這種扁平性反⽽預⽰了視覺觀念的轉變。⾃ 1960 年代 Greenberg 提出「媒材純粹性」以來，flatness 不再是缺陷，⽽成為現代繪畫對平⾯本質的積極聲明。今⽇在超扁平與數位視覺主導下，《Structure》的平⾯性或許不是技術限制，

⽽是⼀種無意識的觀看預兆。

更關鍵的是，《Structure》並非單純形式探索，⽽是

⼀個藝術家掙脫筆墨傳統、轉向⾃我視覺語⾔建構的轉折點。1952年，台灣尚無抽象藝術展覽，也缺乏現代主義批評語境，此作可視為⼀種在視覺真空中發出的探索信號，展現的是畫布語⾔的⾃發性，

⽽非對⻄⽅風格的模仿。

重提《Structure》，並非因其畫⾯成熟，⽽在於它所象徵的開端意義：台灣抽象藝術不僅是⻄⽅的移  植，更是在缺乏語境與體制介入下，藝術家⾃我觀看演進的⾃然⽣成。此作呈現了抽象作為「⾃主語

⾔」的原初形態。

第三節：東⽅畫會與「八⼤響⾺」：從集體實驗到

⽂化突圍

若說1952年的《Structure》是陳道明抽象創作的個⼈起點，那麼1955年底在他天⺟畫室成立的「東⽅畫會」，則標誌著從個體實驗走向集體實踐的轉折。畫會的誕⽣並非偶然，⽽是源⾃1951⾄1955年間，

⼀群青年藝術家——陳道明、蕭勤、夏陽、霍剛、李元佳、蕭明賢、歐陽⽂淵——在李仲⽣⾨下持續學習與對話。他們在安東街畫室、⼾外寫⽣與非正式聚會中，逐步形成⼀種拒絕臨摹、⿎勵直覺與個體語⾔⽣成的實驗性學習結構。

李仲⽣不是傳統的技法教師，⽽是⼀位視覺啟蒙 者。他⿎勵學⽣拒絕模仿，走入⽣活，回到⾃我；並援引超現實主義與⼼理學觀點，推動潛意識與即興創作。這樣的教學氛圍，使這批青年在「現代主義」尚未在台灣被命名之前，已在畫布上實踐語⾔轉換的實驗⾏動。

當年畫會八位核⼼成員正式集結，被媒體稱為「八

⼤響⾺」：陳道明、蕭勤、夏陽、霍剛、李元佳、蕭明賢、歐陽⽂淵。他們既非學院菁英，也非國家

⽂化代表，⽽是以顏料與筆勢突襲視覺秩序的⼀群叛徒。

陳道明在其中尤為特出。他拋棄具象題材，投入材料實驗與筆勢張⼒的探索，畫布上不再呈現圖像，

⽽是氣與勢的流動痕跡。這些並非炫技，⽽是與物質搏⾾的即興實驗，構成視覺⽣成的物證。

1957年，東⽅畫會舉辦⾸次聯展，地點選在《新⽣報》報社⼤樓⽽非官⽅美術館，並與⻄班牙畫家在巴塞隆納同步聯展，展現其國際視野與⾏動⾃覺。

⽂化記者何凡戲稱他們為「八⼤響⾺」，指其「來

路不明、⼿段猛烈」，反映出這場展覽在尚未建立現代藝術體系的台灣，所帶來的視覺震撼與審美擾動。

畫會成立後，多數成員陸續赴歐發展，如蕭勤、李元佳、夏陽與霍剛等⼈。相較之下，陳道明選擇留在台灣，持續深化其抽象語⾔與材料實驗，並與本地藝術場域保持距離。他不依附官⽅體制，也不追求⻄⽅學院認可；他的創作不為展覽、不為市場，

⽽是孤⾏於島嶼的⼀種感知鍛鍊與繪畫本質的低聲試煉。

東⽅畫會主張，歷史視覺資源不該只是被保存的遺產，⽽應在當代語境中被重新激活。他們追求的不是單純的形式⾰新，⽽是試圖縫合⽂化記憶與當代經驗之間的斷裂。

第四節

走出國境的起點：《夜》與戰後⽂化外交的四條出場軌跡

1956年，年僅⼆⼗六歲的陳道明以作品《夜》

（Night）入選教育部主辦的「全國書畫展覽會」。該展部分作品被選為外交贈禮，代表中華⺠國參加當年在泰國曼⾕舉辦的「憲法節國際博覽會」，並展出於「中國館」。根據官⽅紀錄，《夜》即為其中之⼀，後由泰國皇家美術館（National Museum Bangkok）永久典藏，成為陳道明⾸件進入國際公立美術館典藏體系的作品。這場展覽標誌著他的第⼀條國際出場軌跡——由國家主導的⽂化外交展出。

翌年（1957），他與東⽅畫會成員共同展開第⼆種國際實踐模式：畫會⾃組的國際巡展。同年⾸屆東

⽅畫展於台北《新⽣報》新聞⼤樓舉⾏，部分作品

同步赴⻄班牙巴塞隆納的花園畫廊（Galeria Jardín）展出。陳道明的參展作品更被巴塞隆納現代藝術博物館（MACBA）收藏，成為其第⼆件進入歐洲公立收藏體系的作品。這場由畫會主導的國際⾏動展現了集體策略與⾃主視野的能動性。

同年，他亦以個⼈名義參與⽇本⺠間主辦的「第⼀屆亞洲青年美術家展」（Asian Young Artists Exhibition），地點為東京澀⾕東橫百貨。儘管未經台灣官⽅遴選，該展匯集了來⾃亞洲⼗國的年輕藝術家，成為冷戰初期區域⽂化交流的重要平台。陳道明的參展作品《流浪者》（The Vagrant）雖未收入正式圖錄，但在⽇⽅流傳的單張名單中以 “Dao

Ming-Chen” 之名出現，證實其參展⾝分。這是他⾸次⾃費參與海外國際聯展，也開啟了其第三種出場軌跡：非官⽅⽀持的⾃由投稿展出。

第四條出場形式則出現在1960年：陳道明以作品

《探險者》（The Explorer）參加「第⼀屆香港國際藝術沙龍」（1st Hong Kong International Salon of Art），並獲得銀牌獎。此展為公開徵件沙龍型國際競賽，開放亞洲各地藝術家⾃由投稿。《探險者》的獲獎，不僅是他在競賽型國際平台上的⾸度肯 定，也標誌著台灣現代畫家於香港國際藝術場合的重要出現。這⼀經驗補⾜了他的第四條國際出場軌跡——藝術家個⼈投稿參與國際競賽展覽並獲獎。

這四條展演路徑——外交贈禮、畫會巡展、⾃費投稿與競賽參展——構成了陳道明1960年代初期國際藝術實踐的完整框架。它們涵蓋了國家、集體與個

⼈三個層次，並展現出藝術家在冷戰⽂化體制與⾃

⾝創作意志之間的靈活協商能⼒，也勾勒出台灣戰後藝術如何多軌並進地踏入國際舞台。

1959年，陳道明以作品《尋⽣》（Vers la vie）入選

⾸屆巴黎國際青年雙年展（Biennale de Paris），展後由國立歷史博物館典藏。惟因1960年「秦松事 件」引發政治爭議，該作品遭官⽅撤展，轉由美國新聞處（USIS）主辦的聯展代為展出。此事件突顯藝術家在國際展演與國家審查之間所⾯臨的張⼒，也為他⽇後的沉潛與觀看轉向埋下伏筆。

第五節

結語：從歷史邊界走入觀看的深處

1965年之後，陳道明逐漸淡出展覽場域，主動與制度化藝術機制保持距離。若說1952⾄1965年間的創作構成他的「出場期」，那麼此後⼗餘年的沉潛，並非創作上的停滯，⽽是感知實踐的內轉。他未曾正式宣告退場，卻以⾏動切斷與畫會、展覽與官⽅體系的聯繫，進入⼀段幾乎難以被既有藝術史書寫察覺的實驗期。

這段「缺席」之所以重要，正是因為它並非斷裂，

⽽是延續。他始終未將繪畫視為樣式演進的過程，

⽽是⼀場持續與觀看、感知與物質搏⾾的鍛鍊。從

《Structure》（1952）中對平⾯語⾔的探索，到《流浪者》（1957）與《尋⽣》（1959）在國際場域中對視覺邊界的推進，這些作品不只是「為了被看

⾒」，⽽是持續地⽣成觀看本⾝的條件。

1975年起，這份沉默轉化為新的紙上實驗。他捨棄畫布與油彩，放下展覽與流通的慣性，轉向紙張與非典型材料的探索。創作不再指向風格或完成性，

⽽是⼀種開放結構的感知實驗。他的筆勢轉為肌理

與節奏的積累，視覺語⾔也從情緒表達轉為知覺結構的構築。在這些作品中，我們不再尋找圖像或主題，⽽是觀看如何形成、如何中斷、如何延遲。

這並不只是媒材的轉換，⽽是觀看⽅式的徹底重 構。沒有那段⾯對展覽體系與視覺規範的抗衡歷程，這些紙上實驗也無從發⽣。陳道明的創作軌跡顯⽰，觀看的根源，往往不在於聚光燈下的顯現，

⽽是在歷史的邊界、在沉默與缺席中，悄然⽣長。