Many an amateur art critic has shaken his head in frustration or bemusement at intentionally vague works and their accompanying descriptions. But Wen Fang's "Birthday Present" - currently on display at Galerie Paris-Beijing in 798 - is an exercise in directness that neatly excises any distraction from her intended meaning.

Six arrangements, each accompanied by an artist’s description, constitute Wen’s “present” to two figures that turned 60 this year—New China and her own mother. The displays are measured and evocative, full of creativity and an eye for “the truth,” which Wen believes “must be seen with the heart.”

While the pieces have plenty of panache, it’s the written descriptions that showcase the confidence and maturity of the 33-year-old artist. They are straightforward and (a rarity in today’s art scene) easy to understand. Wen writes as if conferring with the viewer instead of trying to impress with hoity-toity arcana.

Entering the gallery from the front, viewers are greeted by hundreds of butcher knives dangling from the ceiling; images of filth and debris superimposed on each. Instead of being left to arrange the visual puzzle pieces themselves, Wen is quick to step in and let the viewer know exactly what she was thinking. “One day I was on a public bus … the road was lined on both sides by filthy, stagnant drainage ditches,” the description narrates. “The Chinese refer to these situations as knives raining down from the heavens … these knives often cut right into my heart.”

Such forthrightness is a refreshing change, even though it’s more fun believing in our impending death by a thousand knives. Critics might find the descriptions overly explanatory, demystifying the works to the point of rendering them mundane. But for an artist as likely to shock you as pull you into her world, Wen's words offer a rare insight to the creative process, and add more to the works than they take away.

Wen's words and works are simple, honest and clear—and no less moving or artistic because of it.

Anthony Tao