We spoke with artist N.Rinchin-Ochir, a Member of the Union of Mongolian Artists, Head of the “Shine Ugluu” cooperative, and winner of the Best Visual Artwork award at the “Silver Tree–2025” festival. He is currently presenting his latest solo exhibition titled “The Language of the Sky” at the Fine Arts Zanabazar Museum, where he combines the traditional mindset of Mongolian painting with contemporary visual expression.

Congratulations on being selected as the best visual artist at the “Silver Tree–2025” festival, which recognizes leading figures in the arts and culture sector. Was this your first time participating in the festival?

I am very happy to have participated in the festival with my exhibition On the Horizon Beneath the Moon and to have been selected as the winner. I originally created this work for the Ulaanbaatar Biennale. Later, I exhibited it at my solo exhibition “Hidden Hunger” in South Korea, and then submitted it to the Beijing International Art Biennale, where it was selected—thus meeting the criteria for the “Silver Tree” festival. The day before the award ceremony, I received a call informing me that I had made it into the top three. I was very excited. Although I didn’t know who I was competing against, I felt both anticipation and excitement. When the winner was announced, it felt truly wonderful and filled me with pride. For an artist, there is nothing more rewarding than seeing the final result of one’s work and having that effort recognized.

You opened your solo exhibition “The Language of the Sky” to the public on April 2. Even the title is quite intriguing. What is the main feature of this exhibition?

The exhibition is distinctive in that it translates the traditional methods and forms of Mongolian painting into a contemporary visual language, while expressing the inseparable relationship between humans and nature. The sky represents a silent space that emerges from the depths of human consciousness and existence. Every person has their own inner sky, and they connect with it not through words, but through feeling and intuition. Some have described it as “the language of the sky is the language of the heart”. In that space, only feeling is true. Through this exhibition, I hope viewers will look inward into their own inner worlds and seek a sense of peace.

For me, the exhibition is presented through three main themes. First, I emphasize movement and space. Horses are depicted like wind and clouds, expressing the dynamic rhythm and energy of movement within the exhibition. Second, it explores invisible existence; turning inward toward the spiritual world. Here, I used natural earth pigments to reveal that which cannot be seen but can only be felt, attempting to uncover hidden mysteries. Third, it presents mythology and historical continuity. By transforming elements of traditional Mongolian painting into contemporary forms, the works narrate the unity of humans, animals, and nature, as well as philosophical ideas of everyday life through a mythological language.

In today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world, we are increasingly compelled to look back at our cultural roots and inner values. For Mongolians, this is inseparable from ancient traditions, the wisdom of living in harmony with nature, and the reverence for the sky. This traditional mindset is one of the most important heritages we must carry into the future, and reviving it through art forms the core of my work. This exploration is not merely about form, but about seeking answers to how the essence of Mongolian painting can be integrated into the language of contemporary visual art.

We cannot overlook your work titled “Where Words Cannot Reach, the Language of the Sky Begins”. What did you aim to express through this piece?

This work embodies the idea that it is a complete world in itself. The viewer who observes it is also a unique world. In other words, the artwork and the viewer, which are two different worlds, connect not through words, but solely through the language of feeling.

Could you explain your work titled “A Handful of Soil”?

The core idea of this piece is the value of a handful of soil. The land we live on today and our independence have been preserved through the sacrifice of our ancestors, who gave their lives and shed their blood across generations. They passed down to us not only this land, but also a great history, customs, and cultural heritage in their entirety. This means that even a small handful of soil carries the values of our ancestors, as well as Mongolian culture and tradition.

Through this work, I aimed to convey the message that future generations should cherish and protect even a handful of their homeland as they would their country, and that they should contribute, even in the smallest way, for the sake of their nation.

In your view, what distinguishes Mongolian painting from others?

The most distinctive feature of Mongolian painting is its sense of space. Some people explain it as being viewed from above, like a bird in flight. However, this is less about a bird’s perspective and more about a spiritual or mental space. A clear example of this is Marzan Sharav’s “One Day in Mongolia”.

In this work, the geographical features of Mongolia are condensed and presented as a whole. You can simultaneously see the northern forested taiga, the southern Gobi Desert, and the agricultural regions around Selenge. In reality, a bird flying over Ulaanbaatar would only see the city itself, not the entirety of Mongolia. Even from an airplane, we can only view a limited area.

But in Mongolian painting, vast distances spanning hundreds of kilometers are unified within a single mental space, that is where its uniqueness lies. In other words, conventional painting often depicts a limited space or a single-point perspective. Mongolian painting, on the other hand, is remarkable in its ability to encompass vast expanses and the entirety of the steppe within a flat pictorial space.

You once dreamed of becoming a woodcarver as a child. What led you to shift toward Mongolian painting?

I am from Jargalant soum of Arkhangai Province. When I was in secondary school, I dreamed of becoming a woodcarver. As early as fourth grade, I made carving knives using a metal saw, and as I grew older, I began crafting morin khuur or horse headed fiddles.

In 2005, when I came to enroll at the Institute of Fine Arts, my teacher Ts.Narmandakh gave me advice. My teacher told me, “Since you can already create works at this level in carving, you should first learn how to draw”. Ts.Narmandakh also said, “If you master the depiction and forms of Mongolian painting, carving will not be a problem. You will have great potential for further development.”

That is how I ended up enrolling in the Mongolian painting program. Now that I have developed my painting skills to a certain level, I have started returning to carving again.

Could you tell us about your “Shine Ugluu” cooperative? How many artists are involved?

We established the “Shine Ugluu” in 2017, and we now work with more than 20 artists. Initially, our teacher M.Chinbat invited me to lead a group of young artists for a large commissioned project, and that’s how the ten of us first began collaborating. Around that time, my wife received an invitation to hold a solo exhibition, but the deadline was extremely tight that we had only one month to prepare. It was impossible to do it alone, so we joined forces with fellow artists and worked intensively. Within just one month, we managed to present an exhibition featuring over 70 works. That experience led us to decide to formally establish an artistic collective. Working together proved to be much more effective.

As for the name “Shine Ugluu”, it comes from a memory from our student days. Our teacher would set up a still life in class, and we would spend over a month drawing it. Since it couldn’t be moved, it would gather dust and its colors would gradually fade and dull. At that time, our teacher would tell us, “Look at it with fresh eyes every day, as if you are seeing and drawing it for the first time.” Inspired by this idea, we chose the name “Shine Ugluu” to reflect the artist’s mindset of seeing everything anew and becoming a fresh voice for society.

Your spouse is a monumental artist. What are the advantages and challenges of being a family of two artists?

As artists, we don’t really have days off, nor do we have fixed working hours. We are constantly thinking about our work—our minds are always “on”. Unlike others, it is rare for us to simply relax at home and watch television. Even while walking or resting, if a new idea comes to mind, we immediately note it down.

One of the challenges of being an artistic family is the lack of a stable income. Aside from such financial concerns, however, the advantages are numerous. We are always together and fully understand each other from a professional perspective. If I had married someone from a different field, they might not understand me as deeply, and it would be difficult to dedicate so much of my time to my work.

For example, just in the past month, I have been preparing for my exhibition and have practically been living in my studio. During this time, my wife supported me in every way, from bringing me meals to offering professional advice, always standing by my side. This, I believe, is the greatest advantage of sharing the same profession.