Wang Wenlan.

Borrowing an ancient hand.

Rebuilding the Badaling section of the Great Wall.

A family of three, Guangxi.

1981: Street basketball, Beijing.

1987: Film director Zhang Yimou, after his film Red Sorghum received the honorary Golden Bear, at the Berlin Film Festival.

Wang considers his prime mission as a photojournalist to be the recording of changes and progress in this nation. Over the last 30 years, China remained the primary subject of his work. His images, neither romantic nor nostalgic, feature a modern style, rich connotations, classic compositions, and a high aesthetic value. In his framing is expressed the power of spirit and culture.

As a child, I imagined more than one profession in which I may eventually be engaged, but none of these were related to photography. I did not touch a camera until the mid-1960s, and in the 10 years that followed I learned, explored, and enjoyed photography as a favorite pastime. My first photograph with journalistic value captured the scene of a woman being rescued from the ruins of her home after being buried for 13 days after the catastrophic Tangshan Earthquake of 1976.

In 1979, the photo exhibition “Nature • Society • People,” struck a chord in my mind, allowing me to realize that there was actually a group of photographers who had already expanded their horizon to all corners of society and life, to cover more than just politics and government. This bolstered my determination to focus my lens to the times.

In 1980, I became a staff journalist with China Daily. In the beginning, in the view of my editor-in-chief, I was simply a newcomer. Every day during lunch we met in the dinning hall, and as we got to know each other, we often shared a table. He told me that while most of the photos published in domestic newspapers were about the size of a stamp, he hoped that China Daily could eventually use larger photos on the front page to keep up with international trends.

As a freshman journalist, I had no concept of what constituted “international trends.” But I knew to follow the instructions of the editor-in-chief. Very soon, I was shocked to see a greatly enlarged photo on the front page of China Daily, followed by all other pages. People both within and beyond China Daily expressed astonishment.

One day in the summer of 1981, my editor-in-chief assigned me to take a photo for the front page showing ordinary citizens seeking escape from the summer heat. I was surprised, thinking it a minor subject, not important enough for the front page. To get the job done, I went to a kindergarten and shot a scene of children eating watermelons. The next day, this picture, in large size, appeared on the front page. My editor-in-chief later told me that in the past most of the photos were all about state leaders, with very few of ordinary citizens, and that foreign readers mostly prefer photos revealing the life of average Chinese people. He told me that to help foreign readers gain an understanding of China in all aspects, we should work from every detail. It was then that I began to pay attention to the lives of ordinary people.

In the early 1980s, a friend presented to me his newly-published photo album, which further refocused my work on the everyday lives of average people. The decade-long Cultural Revolution had passed, and the prelude of reform and opening-up was already something of the past. It was a time to record people’s lives with not only a camera, but also with our hearts. Emergent events and decisive moments occur not often and in an instant, but life, seemingly simple most of the time, offers near limitless potential for subject matter.

When my career in photography began in 1976, I thought it would be great if it lasted a quarter of a century, to perhaps the year 2000. Yet, to record the ongoing process of China’s reform and opening-up, I’m willing to shoot even longer – until the moment I can no longer press the shutter release button.