Unexpected and uplifting it is then, to discover Landscapes in the Chinese Style, a series of Lichtenstein’s paintings on display at Hong Kong’s Gagosian Gallery that, on first impression, look as little like Lichtenstein as it’s possible to imagine. From distance, on superficial gaze – often the best way to appreciate Lichtenstein’s work - they are seemingly serene, calming and spiritual. But step closer. Zen comes the surprise. Careful scrutiny reveals a mish-mash of mosaic locutions, almost like jigsaw, layered and floating with Benday dots [a technique derived from the name of American printer Benjamin Day in the early 20th century], that reinforces the sense of industrial production. Lichtenstein said the following on the subject of his Chinese landscapes: “I think [the Chinese landscapes] impress people with having somewhat the same kind of mystery [historical] Chinese paintings have, but in my mind it’s a sort of pseudo-contemplative or mechanical subtlety … I’m not seriously doing a kind of Zen-like salute to the beauty of nature. It’s really supposed to look like a printed version.” From Zen to zany, Lichtenstein was the supreme art impersonator who could sample the techniques of masters like Picasso, Cézanne, Mondrian and Léger at will, retooling their specificities as though their canvases were no more than giant moodboards for him to subvert for comic or satiric effect.

The comic strips [Lichtenstein’s fetish for cartoons dissuaded Warhol from pursuing that interest further], advertisements, Greek temples, or avant-garde artwork, all was appropriated in much the same way for his flat, though vivid, view of his art’s representation. With Lichtenstein, he, and you were always on the level.