But how else are we going to learn? Hopefully from the works of great masters. Here again, " great " is in the eye of the beholder. We must have a good core before we can sprout our wings.
The following is a glimpse of tree trunks painted by a Ming Dynasty master, followed by the works of a frustrated apprentice.
As we can see, the second photo insert showed basically the same form, yet exhibited no "life" to the brushstrokes. This is especially evident towards the top of the trees, where little branches are formed.
In Chinese brush painting, the terms "Chi" or "Li" describes force and strength and spirit and energy.
It is a concept that refuses to be explained, especially to the casual observer. Mumbo jumbo, exclaimed the ignorant. I often pose the question, what is the difference between a stationary live snake and a dead one? They both possess the exact same morphology. Yet somehow the live one portrays life. Perhaps the muscular tension exerted to each pair of ribs gave that away, or was it the turgid appearance a living organism, however subtle. What we are aspiring for is the stored potential energy in a brush stroke. Each stroke should exude the feeling not of a wet noodle, but of a drawn bow ready to flex.
Here is work done by a Qing Dynasty master. The brushstrokes here are rather colorful and free spirited.
Frustration in trying to decipher the strokes, the force needed, and the correct dry/wet brush. All these considerations dialed in too much damper to the hand and mind machinery, resulting in stencil like babbling.
Getting a little better.
Throw your caution to the wind. The exact likeness is not there, but the strokes are effervescing with "Chi".
"So now you tell me, "copying" does not mean "copying", or does it? " says the frustrated apprentice.
"Paint me a live snake", says the master.
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