IN 1998, a massive heart attack took the life of my beloved father, Shen Roujian. He left us at the age of 78. The sudden loss threw the entire family into deep grief.

To donate and display a portion of his artworks seemed to be the only thing left to be done, so the family thought it would be a fitting tribute to him to celebrate his centennial with a large-scale exhibition.

The grand exhibition, called “Soft (Rou) as Willow Yet Firm (Jian) as Bamboo: A Retrospective Exhibition of Shen Roujian,” is under way at China Art Museum in Shanghai’s Pudong New Area through March 31. The main part of the title is a line drawn from a poem dedicated to him by the distinguished writer Lao She.

The images of willow and bamboo are wittily used for a metaphorical wordplay of Roujian, a name he christened himself during World War II.

When it comes to his art, gentleness and boldness, polar as they appear, are readily blended into his creative oeuvre to build up a variety, ranging from motif, medium to color. What makes it most extraordinary is the brilliant way he applied colors that produced soothing, pleasing or stunning effects.

The exhibition is curated to open a window into his artwork and career as well.

A three-chapter framework is established to follow his journey as an artist: Wartime Artist, New China Artist, and Experimental Artist.

The collection of the paintings and prints is nonpareil, compared with the earlier shows. Exhibits such as drafts, photos, letters and books are integrated to better profile the outstanding artist with behind-the-scenes stories.

This arrangement is also meant to bring forth his distinguished integrity and visionary leadership.

My father was born in a poor family in the southernmost part of Fujian Province in 1919. His schooling did not go beyond junior high. Learning was basically done at the local library.

Owing to the popular practice of ink-wash painting in his hometown, he had a desire to become an artist at an early age. The opportunity came when the 18-year-old young man went to join the New Fourth Army stationed in south Anhui Province at the height of the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression (1931-45) in 1938. He got a good offer to work in the Battlefield Service Corps’ painting group, affiliated with the army headquarters.

In 1939, his first major commission came from Agnes Smedley, an American journalist and writer, who enthusiastically supported the New Fourth Army and the Eighth Route Army. She asked him to produce a painting as a gift of gratitude to the American Red Cross for their goodwill supply of medicines to the New Fourth Army.

A scaffolding was set up right away in a forlorn temple, and my father set out to execute a themed painting called “Fighting for Justice” on a huge farmer-made cloth. To the best of my knowledge, a photo taken by Smedley is the only witness to its happening. Against the huge painting backdrop stands my father, clutching a palette to his chest. A fraction of oversized figures appears blurring, but vigorous all over the painting. This piece of work evokes memories of Mexican artist Diego Rivera’s gigantic murals, although the chance that my father had access to any of them at that time was slim.

After he settled in Shanghai in 1949, he started to concentrate on colored printmaking. Woodcuts such as “Night after Snowing” (1957), “In the Shipyard” (1958), “Goethe House” (1962) and “Fishing Boats” (1965) made him well known for his incredible talent for unifying rich colors, be it gentle or bold in tone. Despite all that, his soft persona appears to have come on the scene first.

“Night after Snowing” is a cityscape subtly toned in ochre, umber and sienna to bring forth gradations in texture shifting from solidness to transparency. This piece of work earned its way into the National Library of France collection.

Meanwhile, special mention should be made of his earlier black-and-white woodcuts “Fields” (1942), “Gathering Straws” (1943) and “At a Checkpoint” (1945) collected by Musée de l’Armée in Paris. If there were viewers who happened to encounter the above works in both venues, sheer amazement would come up at the sophisticated leap made in his colored printmaking.

It is interesting to note that, in the treatment of night, the color scheme could also be keyed to a firm-persona note, as it were. As opposed to “Night after Snowing,” the cityscape caught in a long shot, “Peace at Night” (1986) features part of a balcony up close. There is no hint whatsoever that the setting actually comes from a hospital. What meets the eye is an empty wicker chair in chrome yellow positioned squarely against the vermilion balustrade. Its brilliance is brought to its full intensity, not akin to Kandinsky’s symbolic code of the color. Rather, it depicts my father’s happiness after being saved by an alternative medicine from the probable blindness caused by a serious macular disease. Empty as the chair is, it speaks volumes about the blissful relief my father enjoyed that very night, sitting there for hours after the soft landing. Hence the balustrade painted in the striking color is an exciting announcement for his reclaimed power to deal with luminous colors.

Red is one of my father’s signature colors, radiating the frames such as “In the Shipyard,” “St Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow” (1960), “Goethe House,” “Fishing Boats,” “Night at a Construction Site” (1978) and “On the Veranda” (1998).

In his later ink-wash paintings, the red hues look stunning in the depiction of tropical flowers, as do the fruits familiar to him since childhood. Slightly muted, red works in complete unity with a medley of ink shades in “Flowers in Dreamland” (1996). Up to this point, whether his firm persona outshines his soft one or vice versa seems no longer relevant. Clearly, he is a natural endowed with both traits at his disposal, simply defying any kind of robust categorization.

My father’s palette is often used for the purpose of composition as one of his critics said perceptively more than three decades ago.

In 1960, he began to make strides in this direction when he went to attend the Dresden Gallery’s 400th anniversary. In the embrace of Raphael, Rubens, Dürer and Rembrandt, his heart and soul was thrilled. His creation of “Goethe House” in woodcut is a tribute paid to the great poet. That said, it is also a salute to all the Old Masters combined, especially those who took great delight in virtuoso use of colors.

In addition to his earlier passion for the bold colors, preferable in Chinese folk art, his face-to-face encounter with the Old Masters inspired him to be more experimental with color use. Besides, increasing contact with modern trends like Impressionism, Postimpressionism and Expressionism urged him to see color as the general prime mover of painting.

Varied colors give shape to my father’s watercolor series produced during and after a visit to Europe. In “Morning Mist over Halle” (1960), everything in the piece is veiled in fluidity for a description of beauty.

His ink-wash painting “Verdant Jiangnan” (1997) can be taken as a bold variant wrought for a much larger frame. “Roaring Waves” (1989) is another good example. With quick whitish brushstrokes laced with grayish, loops of sea foam that shoot high into the sky. This kind of treatment heralds the appearance of a wave-like shooting rendered energetically in the “Fountains of Rome” series (1998).

The use of colors becomes more experimental in some of his later ink-wash paintings.

Traditional Chinese ink-wash painting is inclined to subdue mood and disdain color. Primaries like red, yellow and blue have been relegated as too blunt and rough to be presentable.

Prowess in manipulating ink is considered to be the skill of the highest echelon. My father was determined to join those artists who think that ink-wash painting needs to go beyond the clichéd discipline in order to depict new sensibilities of the age.

His flower-and-fruit-motif paintings are particularly stunning. The palette is kept bright until the very end of his life. His ink painting “Sunflowers” (1997), for instance, is an outburst of bright colors. In a nice blend with the inky shades, rich yellows, including the daubs of distinct lemon, pack the work with enormous strength. His last woodcut “On the Veranda” becomes bolder than ever. Bathed in a rosy tone, the sunlit scene is lifted more cheerfully than the moonlit balcony seen in “Peace at Night.” In many ways, it looks like a promising commencement than any kind of denouement.

To be highly articulate with a rich vocabulary of color has long been my father’s strongest desire to express his sensibilities, innate, immediate or impromptu whenever called upon. His work has overwhelming power and style. The glorious achievements should be celebrated enthusiastically on this special occasion and this exhibition measures up to the magnificence.

Date: Through March 31

Venue: China Art Museum

Address: 205 Shangnan Rd