Water

I did something quite different with my "tedious project", and that was trying to paint with a Gongbi style workflow.  That involved drafting a copy of outlined objects and then filling in the blanks with color.  That tedious project had to do with reflections and ripples in a duck pond.  What made that particular project tedious and perhaps unique ( different from your typical everyday Gongbi style paintings of birds and flowers ) was that my painting had a mosaic appearance to it.  Quite impressionistic to say the least.

So I am going to visit that format again and try my luck.  With nothing but ripples this time as my subject matter.  I am hoping to digitize if you will, the analog experience of constantly shimmering ripples.  Forever morphing and yet appearing so orderly as to be cavalries swarming across the surface.

I am starting out by defining the bright areas of the water first.  Typically these are the fronts of the ripples.  Thus these areas might seem random but they actually remind me of U-shaped staples arranged in rows.

There are going to be tons of these bright spots and I really don't want to confuse myself by all these wriggly lines.  After 5 minutes of this I could no longer distinguish which areas are bright and which are dark.  To help my ailing cognitive brain I am cheating by filling in the dark areas as I go.

In a typical Chinese Gongbi style painting, the quality of the brushstroke for lines is of utmost importance.  They need to be evenly applied, like the gold rims around a fine china plate or cup.  My brushstrokes here really do not pass muster.  My excuses are that I am preoccupied with the expressiveness of the shimmering water, and I am eager and anxious to lay down the next piece of the mosaic before I lose my train of thought.

So there is order in my madness.  The red lines in the following photo show my perception and identification of the ripples as they dance on the water. 

This is more tedious than I have anticipated.  Time to pin this up on the wall, allow myself some distance from this mess of untidy lines and reassess this project.

Painting on silk again

My last encounter of painting on silk was fraught with plenty of obstacles.  I was being stubborn and tried to use silk fabric, instead of the "silk" that are sourced from art supply stores.  I had endured a lot of problems just trying to get the silk to take on coloring.  I ended up treating the fabric with copious amount of alum solution to get the job done.

I am older and wiser now, no less adventurous though.  I decide to try for silk again, this time on the "silk" that I can buy from art supplies.  I am still not convinced that this is real silk, because the material feels like nylon stocking or some sort of polyester. Anyways, it is what it is.  

Silk or silk brocade is used quite extensively for the more formal Gongbi style of Chinese brush.  I am not a Gongbi artist per se, but I do like to give it another try, using the motif from my "mosaic" pond painting.  This is perhaps the closest thing to Gongbi-esque painting that I could muster. I really don't enjoy being a fodder for the traditional Gongbi artist, so my preemptive apologies!

I had done a template for myself when I dabbled in my attempt to create a Gongbi-like painting with ducks on a pond.  I am resorting to that template again.

To keep things fresh, I shall do my new painting in a portrait format.  I am cropping the right hand portion of the template with the ducks in it.

I don't quite like the composition of this cropping.  I feel that the right side needs to have more of something.  The original set-up looks fine with the painting in the landscape format, but somehow feels lacking in the vertical sliver.  

Thus I shall be adding in some ripples or reflections.

I am also going to approach this project in an unconventional manner.  I am going to save the line drawing step for the last.  Again, my apologies.

Traditional Gongbi painting begins with the line drawing step.  The line drawing is either a supplied template or an original drawing devised by the artist.  The so-called line drawing is actually brushstrokes of calligraphy.  It has characteristics of full, thin, press and lift associated with writing with a round brush.  The artist then meticulously brushes in the color, often times alternating between a color brush and a water brush together for even and gradual spreading of color gradients. The process is repeated a number of times until the desired saturation, blending and appearance is reached.  Alum solution is often applied between the layers of color to prevent the previous layer from smudging, causing a "dirty" appearance.  Regardless of how saturated the color is, transparency is almost always valued.  Nothing is done in haste. 

In my case I am not dealing with delicate flower petals or shades of landscape.  Mine is just a kaleidoscope of specks of colors that does not require manipulation within each speck.  A simple mosaic.  I feel that my sins can be forgiven if I just apply the color without paying too much attention to how one color blends into another.  I also feel that I have more freedom if I just "marked" the locations of color instead of filling in a space with color.  I can be a little bit "hasty".  Just a little!

I use different colors for the rings of ripples, not only to enrich the palette, but also to account for the assorted colors of the objects that are reflected on the water.

I am adding in a whole much of nondescript ripples, what I would call "noise" to fill in the right side of the painting.  The part of the painting I deemed lacking.

After all my desired features are on the paper, I now write in the line drawing.

I brush on a thin layer of alum solution to the areas that I want to "tune-up" before I add on more or a different color.  

The finished product does look regal and pompous after framing.  This is the miracle delivered by painting on antique gold silk.

Face Up or Face Down?

To the uninitiated, Xuan paper is just a regular piece of white paper to be painted or written on.  The more astute observer would however notice a smooth side and a rough side.

Xuan paper is made from the pulp of plant fibers scooped up on a sieve and the sheets are deposited flat on heated rollers or steel walls to dry.  The side of the paper that faces the roller or wall is smooth, the other side is more fibrous, and therefore rougher.

Technically the smooth side is the "top" side but many artists prefer the rough side to paint on.  It has more "feel".  I can attest to that.  I also like the texture the bottom side provides.  

Printing paper on the other hand are less tolerant if the "wrong" side is used.  I have wasted so much inkjet color by loading my print paper the wrong way.  It is especially easy to do if I was printing on matte photopaper.  The two sides are almost indistinguishable, either by feel or by color.  Only the finished print that comes out from my printer would tell if I fed the paper correctly or not.  Obviously there is no such problem with gloss or semi-gloss paper.  

There is a type of Xuan paper that I like to use and for lack of a proper translation, I'll call it cicada skin paper, or cicada wing paper.  This Xuan paper is very light and transparent and has a slight sheen to it, just like the wings of a cicada. The paper is considered sized or semi-sized, in that it allows color to float on it a little bit without too much bleeding.  It also is able to withstand repeated rubbing without having the top layer of fibers linting up.  Its transparency augments the transparent watercolor and bestows a very delicate feel to the painting.  It is a favorite with artists who do the Gongbi (elaborate) style of Chinese painting.  

I have a couple pieces of dance movement gestures done on such a paper.  I try to use calligraphic brushstrokes to describe the limbs and gestures.  I feel that this approach gives the dance movements more flow and energy.  There is a je ne sais quoi quality of  "writing" versus simply filling in the space with ink or color.

With me the dilemma is not whether I should paint on the paper face up or face down.  As far as I am concerned there is no perceptible difference either way.  My problem is which side of the paper should I be presenting as the top side of my painting.

The cicada paper's thinness and transparency allows the painted image to be visible from both sides of the paper, as if one is looking through a projection slide, or one of those double-faced silk embroidery from Suzhou.  The bottom side of the image can sometimes be a little less saturated or slightly well defined around the edges, but it is this quality that captivates me.

The picture above actually shows the bottom side of the cicada paper with painted image on it.

The painting on the left has the "face up" side showing, whereas the painting on the right is showing the bottom side as the good side.  Can you tell the difference between the two?

The following is a close-up of the painting presented with the "face down" side.  The images are more veiled like, more dreamy.  The limbs are obviously articulated but there are apparent discontinuity in the brushstrokes.  I suppose not all the color comes through from the top side. The blue streaks act like an atmospheric or water current, or even yards of fabric, enveloping the dancers.  I feel that "face down" presentation suits this painting well.  The audience is given more freedom to implement their gestalt. 

The "face up" side of the dancers shows more definition.  The calligraphic brushstroke does wonders with the split leap.  I am just treating the dancers as a words that need to be written, rather than filling in the spaces where their bodies are .  I especially like the effect of flaring on the clothing and all the toe points and all these are achieved with simple calligraphy brushstrokes.

I suppose no competent, upstanding artist would present the bottom side of a painting as the top side.  I don't know which is worse, hanging an abstract painting upside down or doing what I am doing now.  I don't suppose the viewer appreciates being made a fool of.  But for a second rate painter like myself, I need all the help I can get to add drama to my paintings.  I actually considered presenting these two paintings together as a diptych but I really don't want to insult anybody's intelligence, any further than I have to. 

Necessity is the mother of invention.  I am taught well! 

Mounting my "mosaic" project

My mosaic painting of ducks in a pond is disintegrating just from laying around.  Every time I walk past the painting a little draft follows me, enough to partly lift the painting ever so slightly since it is so light.  The repeated lifting causes more cracking and subsequent cutting loose of small pieces of my painting.  Like shards of glass.

The only remedial step for alleviating the continued deterioration is to mount it.  Dry mounting would be out of the question.  My painting would not be able to withstand any ironing at all.  Traditional wet mounting is the only way out.  

The painting is laid face down on my slab of mounting plastic and copious amount of water is dumped on it to ensure proper soaking, rendering the fibers in the paper less brittle.  My painting wears a dried prune appearance now from all the air pockets.

Normally I would apply and spread my starch solution right away with my stiff brush.  The stiff bristles would push out the air pockets and flatten any creases but I think that brush is too harsh in this instance.

I am resorting to a soft brush to try to smooth out all the air pockets before I even apply the starch.  The stiff brush is left on the sideline; watching. 

More water is sprayed onto the painting to facilitate the smoothing process.  Anybody who has applied window tinting sheets onto a glass pane will understand what I am doing.  The only difference is instead of using a piece of hard plastic with a flat edge for pressing, I am using a soft brush.  The water makes the paper float a bit and it serves as a lubricant and also a sealant to prevent air from re-entering.  

After about 20 minutes of careful brushing and re-wetting with water, all the air pockets are gone.  I have a flat piece of painting that I can apply starch now.  Patience is a virtue. 

The starch application invariably causes the frayed edges of the damaged painting to double up and fold upon itself.  This is not the time to panic.  Instead of using a hard tool like forceps to unfold the tucked in edges, I use a clean brush to unfurl and reposition the frayed edges.

The painting is now ready for starching and backing and mounting.  The mounted piece is glued to a hard surface to dry.  The drying process will make the painting taut and the starch will add stiffness to the paper.

The mounted "mosaic" painting is now next to the painting that inspired it.  I suppose the gaping hole can pass as a void space in the painting, by design, right?

I can honestly say that I've accomplished my resolution for this new year and I am happy about it. I am happy that I am giving Gongbi style technique an honest try, albeit not in the traditional sense.  I am not painting peony, blue bird or lotus flowers, the usual thematic matters.  I am painting water.  However I certainly learned a lot in the process.  I am hoping readers of this blog can learn from my mistakes and methods to mitigate them.  Let's face it, this is still rather esoteric.  I'll chalk this up as a successful experiment, especially when comparing the two paintings side by side.  

Not tedious anymore.

Happy April Fools' Day! 

Paint for the waste basket

It's time to put my game on, tackling my mosaic project.  I really can't let a 9 nine old show me up, can I?

I am using a semi-sized Xuan because it is thin enough to facilitate the copying process.  I will need to trace my stencil with a brush only this piece of paper.  I suppose I can trace it out with pencil first to get all the pieces and then cover up the pencil lines with ink brush once the painting is done, but I don't have the patience for it.  The bottom line is I hate to do the same thing twice; tracing my stencil is already a chore for me.

I already do not like what I've done so far.  I suppose I am treating this initial step rather lackadaisically, I am using left over ink/color to do the tracing.  The outlines are of different colors and darkness.  I have not forgotten the proposed silver color for water from the 9 year old kid.

I have this image of a pond with an subdued ambience, interrupted only by flashes of reflected light.  I am going to color in my two ducks first.  I also pick out a few spots to apply the same color as the ducks.  There really are no rules, just a notion.  Perhaps use silver as my flashes of reflected light?  But I don't have any silver color or paint.

Using the same logic, I pick out other pieces of my "mosaic' and address them with different colors.

I am assigning a deeper, darker color to the right half of my composite.

And a lighter color to the rest of the painting.  I suppose I've decided silver is not feasible for my set-up. 

What is glaringly apparent now, aside from the fact that there is not enough tonal difference between the darker and lighter tones, is that the colors are extremely blotchy.  This is beyond any doubt a failure.

I mentioned in my previous writing that I wanted to do this painting using the Gongbi techniques.  One of the hallmark of a Gongbi painting is that alum solution is used to size the paper so that the color flows and mixes freely, without being streaky.  I was assuming that my semi-sized paper would have cut my some slack and present me with a more uniform color field.  This is not the time to see brushstrokes.

I suppose I am doubly disappointed by the fact that this is not my first rodeo with semi-sized Xuan.  I should have know better to pretreat the paper with alum solution so that streaks would be minimized.

My electing to not apply the alum solution first is not entirely baseless.  I recall vividly how the paper of  my summer pond painting became so brittle that I cracked the edge of the paper like an egg shell with barely a nudge from my brush.  That paper was the gold specked Xuan, which is a heavier paper than this translucent semi-sized Xuan.

Hence my hesitation.

There is this saying in doing Gongbi painting, "3 applications of alum and 9 applications of color".  Watercolor gets muddled under repeated applications.  The alum solution is applied in between the repeated coloring process to seal in the original layers and prevent mixing, thus keeping the the palate clean.  The transparent watercolor allows the bottom layers to come through, achieving a visual mixing of colors rather than a physical mishmash.  This "shielding" is sometimes achieved by coloring on the back of the paper, allowing the translucent Xuan to act as a barrier that mitigates mixing of colors. 

Well it is not too late to treat my entire painting with alum solution now.  New color, or tones can be applied over the dried alum treated paper and if done right, should be devoid of streaking. 

I am going over the lighter tone of green again after the alum solution is dried.  The blotches are mostly gone.  What the picture shows actually is just lighting artifacts resulting from a non-flat paper surface.

It is interesting though that the brownish hue is gone, replaced by a greyish green and I am using the original wash.  The two tones of green are even more similar now.  I need to make my dark green areas much darker in order to achieve the separation.

Before I attempt my darker green, I am reminded of the repeated washing of color resulting in the undulating surface of my Xuan.  I am going to iron my paper to get a flat paper surface.  This should help to minimize the pooling of the watercolor at the low points.

Guess what, the paper is too crispy (from the alum solution) to withstand the ironing.  Part of the painting ended up on the bottom of my iron.  There is now a gaping hole in my painting.

The funny thing is, I am not mad at all; just astonished.  I'm astonished that the paper becomes so brittle even after one application of the alum solution.  I suppose I shall be keeping a mental note about this for a long time now, especially when using the thin semi-sized Xuan.  Keep my iron locked up!

I've been told many times that one should proceed to paint with the attitude that one is doing it for the wastebasket.  This is one way to alleviate the pressure that one puts on oneself.  There is nothing to lose!

I believe I am literally doing a painting for the wastebasket.

Starting a tedious project

A painting at an art exhibition spoke to me.  I really don't know how to describe the painting because I am not familiar with the various styles of western art.  Labels like pop art or art deco are all Greek to me, or is is it French?  The painting that spoke to me reminds me of Andy Warhol's silk screen.  I guess what caught my fancy is the challenge ( or ability ) to define different areas of the painting with very specific color and the lack of a gradient within that particular space.  To me it is like re-defining my concept of a pixel.  Here my pixel could be a line, an entire square or whatever shape.  Actually I think I am making things more complicated than they really are; what I am really trying to do is to create a mosaic.  In my mosaic, all the "tiles" are painted on paper and each "tile" can assume a specific color, and one color only.

If I am going to construct a mosaic painting, my usual Xieyi style brushstrokes would be useless here.  I think a Gongbi style approach might work.  Generally speaking Xieyi brushstrokes rely on broad brushstrokes to give shape ( as compared to filling in with color to render shape ) Gongbi style painting requires outlining everything in the painting and then filling in with color.  It is way more meticulous and rarely spontaneous.  There is always careful staging and posing for Gongbi style painting.  Hence I believe my mosaic demands Gongbi.  

Gongbi painting is always done on sized Xuan paper.  Alum is used as the sizing agent.  The paper is less absorbent after sizing and allows the color to flow more freely.  Xuan paper that is not sized would absorb ink and color instantaneously and whatever mark one makes is indelible.  With sized Xuan there is some room for negotiation and the painting techniques are vastly different. 

The typical brush used for writing the outlines has a long and slender brush profile.  The long hair makes the brush less susceptible to force exerted by the wrist and therefore writing a uniform line with it is easier; in theory that is.  An ordinary brush has a much bigger belly and any variations in applied pressure results in brushstrokes of varying width, anywhere from a fine taper to a broad streak.  Hence the basis of our brush calligraphy.

An expert Gongbi artist shows the craft by presenting flowing lines of uniform width and intensity with no hiccups or kinks at all.  The attached photo is an example of bad Gongbi skills.  The lines are not uniform at all and they are rough and not pleasing to look at.  The student would get a fail grade.

Thus the first step of creating a Gongbi style painting is to create a workable outline drawing.  This is when the artist stages and poses whatever subject matters into the painting.  I suppose one can look at that as a stencil, upon which a piece of translucent sized Xuan or silk from art supply stores is placed, and the artist can now trace the stencil with that long slender line brush.  Typically Gongbi students always copy the stencils provided by their teachers. 

The painting I have in mind to paint is this fashion is the same one I did recently; the colorful one with the ducks in a pond.

Since I have to work out the stencil myself, I would cheat by basing it on a painting that is mine and is already in existence.  I just have this obsession about all the different reflections in my pond painting and I think these reflections are interesting mosaic material.  As I delve into my thought process and mental preparation I realize that each of these shimmers and wiggly lines could be a piece of the mosaic tile and therefore I would be dealing with formulating hundreds of tiny pieces.  A most daunting task.  

Since I haven't made any New Year's resolutions yet, I shall resolute to attempt this seemingly tedious project.  I think the challenge that this could be laborious motivates me.  I am reminded of these paint-by-numbers coloring books that are sold in craft stores.  The ones that are for kids 12 years and older can be very complicated, with lots of numbers to sort out and paint in.  Often times one does not know what one is painting without first looking at the key and the finished picture to get a sense.

I am taking my time but keep a steady foot on the gas pedal and begin in earnest to plot my stencil of outlines.  For my stencil I am using a brush pen.  It is much easier to handle, especially for the purpose of making dark lines quickly and succinctly.  

It is hypnotizing to figure out all these "tiles" and frankly this is not as bad as I thought it would be. Perhaps it is my OCD, I frankly do not sense the passage of time.  Whenever I want to take a break, I keep thinking of the next wiggle, the next "tile".  Just one more, I told myself.  Obviously having my original painting as a "stencil" to work from helps immensely.  I just hope that I can make sense of all these lines, all these little enclosures.  I can always refer back to my original painting if I am lost, as I reassure myself.  It is also surreptitiously comforting to know, perhaps, that by having this "stencil", I could do an iteration of my ducks in a pond.  That hasn't crossed my mind before until now.

Not Chinese Enough

 I switched the frame of my Wetlands painting.  It used to be a poster frame with thin black borders.

So I paraded my newborn, as a proud parent would have done.

Immediately I heard mumblings of "your painting is not Chinese enough".

As I said in my previous blog, I had intended to make an overtly "Chinese" painting because of the type and color of the paper I was using.  The fact that people recognize that this was an attempt at the Chinese genre, I have halfway succeeded.  But "not Chinese enough"?  Really?

I have always maintained that my style is neither western nor Chinese and this has struck the wrong chord with many a purist; but to have someone point that out to me, especially behind my back somehow cuts into me a little bit.  I couldn't help but be reminded of the time when I was hawking my paintings at a school bazaar when some patron wanted to look at my works and her Asian friend told her to shun me because in her words "his work is not good Chinese painting".  I remember muttering, in my head at least, "give me a break, what do you expect for a lousy 75 bucks!"  Not that the price is a reflection of whether my paintings are good or not, but you get the gist.  So now it seems that I'm faced with the same dilemma again, to fit into the "good Chinese" genre.  

So what is "Chinese".  Does it have to be a Mandarin in pigtail?  Must I accept the remark that I use shoelace as my blindfold?  One would say wait a minute, these could be construed as racist overtones these days and certainly we are not talking about that.  Can the perception of a race be translated to things like songs, paintings clothing, buildings, food, etc.  Does a Chinese painting carry the same weight as Chinese food for example?

So does the "ethnicity" of a piece of work have anything to do with the "ethnicity" of  person and is it defined the same way.  Do stereotype and preconception apply to a piece of work the same way as to race?  Are we just talking about appearance?  My wearing a suit and tie does not make me a westerner anymore than an American blond girl wearing Cheongsam a Chinese maiden.  Now if I could obscure her head and hide her identity could she convince us that she's Chinese under that qipao dress?  If I say that she's still "not Chinese" enough, what causes me to say that.  Could it be her bone structure, her body frame, her posture or her mannerisms?  I think we need to be able to be comfortable in discussing the nuances in how we perceive race and cultures without being narrow minded.

Now let's look at the following 2 works,

I know this is not fair since the top painting clearly shows a Kimono donning lady so one would assume that it was not a "Chinese" painting.  I know this is a weak argument since it is also entirely possible for a Chinese painting to depict a Japanese figure, so right away we are led to another cul-de-sac that we could address.  But there are many similarities in the 2 paintings.  Both paintings show a female figure in ornate robe and headdress.  Both paintings show exposed fingers and toes.  One might detect a distinct difference in the portrayal of the face however.  Actually the top Courtesan painting is a work by Vincent Van Gogh.  Thus for the sake of argument, is there anything from that painting that tells you the work was not "Asian"?  If there was, then how "Asian" was that painting.  Could one accuse Van Gogh's painting of being "not Asian enough" and if so then what was the criteria?  Are we able to witness a difference in the brushstrokes here?  Are we observant enough to see that one of the painting was not done with a round brush?

What about the attire of the subjects in a painting.  Does that influence our sorting or perception?

Which one of the two paintings below is "Chinese"?

The bottom painting clearly shows halter top and skirt and anklet that one normally does not associate with the Han race, and yet the painting was done by the great master Zhang Daqian.

What can one tell about this painting:

The above is a Gongbi style painting and this is the more formal and rigid type of rendering, with outlines and filled in color, quite different from the Xieyi style painting which deals with spontaneous brushstrokes.

Now compare the above painting with the this one:

It seems to have been painted in the same genre as the top one and utilizing flower as a subject. Actually both paintings are works by Giuseppe Castiglione, an Italian Jesuit missionary to China in the 1700's.  I am almost sure that most of you are surprised that these are works from a westerner.  So is one of these 2 paintings more "Chinese" and if so what betrayed it.   Can one use the caption that it is a Chinese painting, just not Chinese enough?  Does the bottom painting remind one of a Chinese in suits or a western blond in qipao?

 A 5th century artist Xie He established the Six Canons of Chinese Painting, which governs and defines the 6 main attributes of Chinese painting and they are :

1. Rhythm
2. Strength in brush strokes, reflecting the spirit of the artist
3. Fidelity to nature
4. Appropriateness of color
5. Composition
6. Learn by emulation

When I attempted my piece on Wetlands, I tried to utilize that as my mantra.  I thought I established pretty good rhythm by utilizing consistent brushstrokes in the form of lines and dots.  I believe my brushstrokes were all calligraphic in nature,  thus the rhythm was similar as in carrying a prose.

The lines and  even the wings and bodies of the birds were written and not painted per se.  One can trace where the tip of the brush landed and lifted.  The painting was definitely faithful to nature, as evidenced by the photo I attached in the last blog of the actual wetland.

Now the color might not be carry the same aforementioned fidelity but I was trying to create a mood for the painting by just keying on two colors.  I mean I could as well paint the entire thing in ink and water and just rely on my ink tones; but I didn't have the correct paper to paint on for that style of work.  Plus that wasn't my intention to begin with.

I thought my composition was pretty good.  I somehow was able to account for foreground, middle-ground and background.  I cunningly eschewed the details in the middle and let the viewers decide if the void was water or vapor.  It is not uncommon for Chinese painting to leave the body of water or clouds as a blank space without a smidgen of information.  My birds in flight were heading towards the flocks in the background, forming a connection.  The strong deliberate wings were a good contrast to the scattered specks in the distance, the yang and the ying, in Chinese vernacular.  

My interpretation of  trees were strong indication of the traditional presentation of mixed trees as presented by the gold standard Mustard Seed Garden:

and the ground these trees sat on wore a distinctly Chinese appearance, judging by what Mustard Seed Garden had revealed:

Thus compare the Mustard Seed Garden examples with my rendition:

I must say I did a pretty good job of emulating while didn't stray too far from he actual scenery.

If I had satisfied the 6 prescribed canons of Chinese painting, why is my painting "not Chinese enough"?

Is it the picture frame; the fact that the painting was not mounted and bound by silk cloth into a scroll that one could hang?

Is it the subject matter; the fact that I was not painting the traditional landscape of soaring ethereal mountains in Shangri-La like presence?

I did the painting above some years ago and I had it professionally mounted and bound in a scroll format.  Does it look "more Chinese" ?

What if another Chinese person comments that the painting is "not Chinese enough", is that person being tribal or does his comment hold any more weight.  It is not my intention to be polemic.  The reason I am raising these points is perhaps beyond a wounded ego, this might actually be a reflection of struggling for identity.  The simple truth is, I'm trying to defend myself.

One thing is for sure, I had planned for a certain identity in doing this painting, no matter how superfluous it might be.  When one uses a rice bowl and chopsticks one eats rice or noodles, right?  My agenda was to make it overtly "Chinese",  ostensibly triggered by the yellow calligraphy paper I was using.  In doing so I forgot the innocence in painting and the "profite de l'instant".  I happen to subscribe to the notion that the artist often leaves a piece of his soul and identity in his creations.  In my case I am a Chinese transplant, which is very obvious in my diction when I speak, in spite of my 5 decades of immersion here in the States.  I am sure there are a lot of tangible and intangible attributes of the western culture rubbing off on me. Thus the more likely indictment would be that I am "not American enough".  So why was I trying to be "overtly Chinese" knowing that I am Chinese; that seemed like an oxymoron.  Perhaps all these years spent away from the Chinese culture has made me "less Chinese".  I also know that I could be accused of extending the ethnic flavor hyperbole into ethnic identity, but what if there is some correlation?

Another way to look at it is a traditional Chinese painting, landscape painting in particular, is seldom a work of en plein air, and has very little to do with the actual trees or rocks.  Often times the painting is an assimilation of thoughts, philosophies, fables and euphemisms.  As such the painting might be mired in details, but the details are not as black and white as in western landscape paintings.  Often times there are waves of details and incidentals in a traditional Chinese landscape painting that guide and propel the viewer to cascades of reflections and deep thoughts; sometimes based on political turmoil or personal losses.  They are more like settings and situations than actual sceneries.

In the end the painting perhaps was a little contrived, as in striking a static pose.  Perhaps I was trying too hard.

I'm still at a loss as to what is meant by "not Chinese enough" after all the rambling.  I am convinced that it has as much to do with the flavor as with the appearance. The enigma is in defining "flavor".   If we see a dragon dance parading with various high school bands and drum corps down Kearny Street in San Francisco to celebrate Chinese New Year, would we say the event has a Chinese flavor or a western flavor?  Could the event be "not Chinese enough" since the style and contents are not exclusively Chinese?  Is one being pedantic or is there some merit to the accusation? 

To quote a famous philosopher, perhaps it is the same as pornography; you know it when you see it!