The Painting4 exhibit at the Rose attempts to expand the definition of painting beyond that of the easel. To help the audience understand these broad ambitions, the Rose has invited the actual artists to come to Brandeis to explain their work. The first of these artists, Michael Lin, came on Wednesday. As an artist, Lin takes the idea of painting and essentially inverts all of its classic traditions. His work is primarily displayed on the floor instead of on a rectangular piece of canvas hanging on a wall. His work can be over 100 square feet instead of the typical size of a painting and his work is generally traced from a pattern instead of being solely the artist's own creation.Lin was born in Taiwan, raised in America, and later returned to Taiwan. He incorporates his dual heritage into his work. The Taiwanese side of his work is seen in his choice of pattern. Lin typically uses a floral design that resembles bedclothes used on a traditional Taiwanese wedding night in the earlier part of the 20th century.

An instantly recognizable design in Taiwan, when out of context, it seems at once gaudy, beautiful and unique. The design itself has more meaning than simply being from Taiwan. The pattern is one that came after industrialization; however, it was ultimately rejected by modern society. The American side of Lin's work comes both in its context in the art world, and Lin's own understanding of the Western art tradition and his conscious effort to subvert that tradition.

The formulation of Lin's idea for his work was a gradual one. After receiving a formal training in art at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, Calif., Lin decided to return to Taiwan, where he dramatically shifted his focus in art. At art school, Lin focused on how to make art that was innovative in the context of the art world. After his move to Taiwan, Lin found employment in two places, both of which had a profound influence on his work.

The first of these places was the newly-built Contemporary Art Museum in Taipei. Having people come up to him daily and question the artistic validity of the pieces in the museum made him realize that his art needed to connect to the viewer on a more fundamental level. The second of these places was a bar. He further formulated the concept for his work here by seeing how the interactive social space of a bar could have aesthetic merit.

In one of his first works in Taiwan, Lin incorporated both of these ideas. He placed three rugs from his home in the gallery space in the same relative position to how he placed them in his home. He then placed a collection of CDs and a stereo near the rugs, and encouraged the viewer to listen to music while sitting on the rugs. Through this exhibition, Lin inverts the classic notion of art in several ways.

Past places for his work include a sparse Art space in Taiwan, a medieval dining hall in Belgium and the city hall in The Hague; however, Lin's work is primarily displayed in Japan and France.

Lin's work in the Rose, a large floor painting with pillows, encourages the viewer to sit on the work, and take in both the painting and any other people sitting on it. The bright colors illuminate the otherwise empty room and add a pinkish hue to the white walls surrounding it. Unlike many of Lin's pieces, which are tailored specifically to the space they occupy, the work in the Rose is removable.

The actual talk from Lin was a very intimate affair. A dozen listeners braved the cold of a New England fall night to sit on the floor and hear a short, soft-spoken Taiwanese artist talk about his life experiences, his artwork, and his ideas about art. The audience ranged from undergraduate students to curious adults. The whole affair had a very warm and magical feeling. The dimly lit room, with the soft glow of a slide projector, along with a radiant floor, enhanced the magic of the room. The combined effect of the presentation left at least this writer filled with awe.