The Chinese round brush continued

I've alluded to how and why the Chinese round brush is more than a mark making instrument.  Like almost all utility tools, it sometimes attracts the perversions of fame over function.  I am ashamed to admit that I have fallen victim to the pursuit of the "best" brush; brushes that are handcrafted in limited quantities by supposedly "famous" artisans.  The lure is to manufacture a want.  Wanting a rare product, a unique way of packaging the brush hair, a brush that looks and writes like no others.  I am reminded of automobiles.  Some cars cost over a million dollars.  Yes they are certainly fine pieces of machinery and they go fast but for the average driver they are just symbols of conspicuous consumption.  I am not convinced that owners of such cars are necessarily better drivers.  Do they even use the million dollar car as transportation or as a trophy in their garage.  Thus I am an average painter and I fail to appreciate the virtue of these fine rare brushes.  I just thought rare brushes could buy me status.  What was I thinking.

Anyways I am not here to vent, just because I paid an exorbitant price for a mediocre product.  I am trying to expand on how the brush is used in painting.

I've loaded just the tip of a wet brush with ink, holding it flat on the paper with the tip pointing towards me. Nudging the brush in small arcs I can depict floral petals

If more attention was paid to the voids and the separation between the petals, this flower head could be more wholesome.  But you get the gist of it.

Canada geese is a favorite subject of mine.  The white band just behind its eye on the neck is a distinct identifier.  It is a simple matter of writing the beak, the top of the head and the neck, leaving a gap at the top of the neck.

Holding the brush side tip, write the body of the bird.  I then use a clean wet brush to draw out the ink to the breast and tail area.

This one is done on inkjet photo paper, just for the heck of it.  ( INK-jet, does anyone get the correlation?)

I'll illustrate the different nuances between a center tip and side tip brushstroke.  The following is a crab leg done with side tip brush.  The tip of the brush is loaded with ink so one can see the trek of the brush tip.

In the next example, the image of the left is done with center tip brush.  The ink tone is even across the width of the leg.  The one on the right is done with side tip brush.  

The one on the left feels sturdy and proper whereas the one on the right is more playful, with varying widths and ink tones.

The following is an example of a person using the wrong edge of the brush in painting (writing) the crab legs.  I am drawing your attention to the two crabs on the upper left corner of the insert.  It's not like the person doesn't know how to use the brush, but due to whatever lapses he throws it out of the window. The result is wiry lines that resemble nothing of the exoskeleton of legs of a crab. 

Using side tip brush, writing a short arc

When a succession of such segments are put together, a shrimp is bone.

Starting with three simple lines, center tip, we have the basic construct of the leg of an insect.

Using a side tip brushstroke, write the wings and thorax and head of the insect

Write lines for body and whiskers etc. using center tip brushstroke,  we have a complete insect with just a few simple brushstrokes.

Three  simple side tip nudges become the body of a frog

Add limbs to complete the painting

Here is an example of a frog on a lily pad employing these simple brushstrokes

This writing is not meant as a tutorial for painting.  There are different ways to skin a cat.  The crux of the matter is how to use the Chinese round brush properly to get the results we want.  As the round brush does not come with an edge, only a tip.  The blog hopes to emphasize the importance of knowing the aesthetic difference between a center tip and side tip brushstroke, and allow them to be our allies. 

The Chinese round brush, more than a mark making instrument

I grew up in the era when composition class required the use of writing with a Chinese brush and ink.  The brush might as well be a piece of twig for me.  Something that I could leave a legible mark on my exercise book so that my teacher could read and grade my work.  In those formative days, I was not fortunate enough to receive the mentorship of how to properly use a brush.  Sure the teachers showed the different roots of the Chinese character and there were Fa Tie ( books of model letter, model character) for us to copy during penmanship classes, but we did not receive individual guidance.  Perhaps the class size was too big.

A brand new Chinese brush has its hair glued together to form a point and is rather stiff.  The new brush is meant to be soaked in water to dissolve the glue such that the hair is separated to its individual strands.  The scattered and spread out hairs would come back to a point after wetting with water or ink; when surface tension works its wonders.

The new brush is on the left and a used brush is in the middle.  The brush on the right shows how the hairs would come back to a point when wet.

Imagine having a wet wad of hair at the end of a thin stick and I was suppose to wield that and write thin lines with that floppy mess?  No way!

My answer to that was to not soak the new brush in water.  I would just jam the tip of the new brush onto the desk, such that the first few millimeters of hair separates, and I would write with that very limited "point".  Obviously that negated all the virtues bestowed by a Chinese round brush.  My lines were all thin and even.  Neat!

As the act of writing continued, the bristles of the brush became more scattered.  Ink and water had crept up to the belly part of the brush and was dissolving the glue.  The writing process became more labored. I became more frustrated.  My lines were getting fatter and irregular.  Fortunately I never washed my brush after each writing.  The ink would dry on the brush and it became stiff again.  

I wonder how many of us have the same story to tell.

I might as well be using a ballpoint pen, but this was before ballpoint pens were invented.  Yes, I'm that old!

It wasn't until I was in secondary school when Chinese Brush painting was part of the curriculum that I realized the wonders of the Chinese brush.  I basically had to re-learn everything about the brush.  All that became more succinct when I started to learn brush calligraphy in earnest.  It became clear to me why people say that calligraphy is the foundation of brush painting.  It's all about the brush, and the brush is more than a mark making instrument.

In calligraphy class, we were told to pay attention to the tip of the brush.  As the brush traverses the paper to write a line, the tip could be placed at the center of the line, hence the center-tip brushstroke. The brush tip is in line with the direction of travel of the brush.  If the tip however is pointing at any angle other than the direction of the travel, then the nab of the brush is basically dragging along and not in the orientation of the travel and that describes the side-tip brushstroke.

To illustrate the cumbersome statements above, I am write two lines with a brush that has the dark ink on the tip of the brush only.  Obviously the ink is going to migrate to the sides and belly of the brush, but the brush tip should leave the darkest mark on paper.

Hence the top line is done with the center-tip brushstroke.  Dark ink is at the center at the start of the brushstroke and gets fainter as the brush travels.  The center white line is actually the mark left by the tip of the brush as the ink on the tip depletes and only water remains.  This brings up the special quality of the Xuan paper we use for our paintings.  It registers everything from our brushstroke.

The line on the bottom shows ink at the start, but loaded to the top and continues to load up on the top margin of the line.  This is due to the position of the brush tip, which is pointed towards the top of the paper as the brush is dragged to the right.  In essence the brush tip is at a 90 degree angle to the line of travel.  Again the void space in the brushstroke represents the part of the brush where ink is depleted.

Certain fonts in Chinese calligraphy mandates the use of strict center-tip brushstrokes, whereas others require both center-tip and side-tip brushstrokes.  The accomplishment and hubris  ( or lack of ) a calligrapher depends on the correct application of the brushstrokes.  When one looks at a piece of Chinese calligraphy, each brushstroke encompasses different widths, shapes, bends and corners. and yet they are all discrete brushstrokes.  A stick or twig certainly can't do that. They would have to go back and fill in to modify the shape of the markings. 

When we say "we write a painting", we mean exactly that.  We use center-tip and side-tip brushstrokes to achieve the shapes and lines of objects.  A prime example would be paintings of bamboo.

Bamboo leaves are nothing but lines.  The entire shape of the bamboo leave, or stem, is done by discrete brushstrokes and not by filling in the space as one would normally associate with painting.  Again, using my "tip-loaded-only" brush, I have "written" the following "painting",

The 3 bamboo leaves on the left are center-tip brushstrokes and the one on the right is side-tip.  An easy way to tell is by look for the points at the start of the brushstroke.  If the point is in the middle, it is likely center-tip.  If the point in at a corner, then the brushstroke is side-tip.

In the example above, C denotes center-tip brushstroke, and S is for side-tip brushstrokes.  The arrows point to the line (edge) left by the tip of the ink-loaded brush tip.  One can see the point at the start of the brushstroke is at the corner, and the brushstroke has ink loaded on one side only.

A painting often requires both kinds of brushstrokes to make it interesting and harmonious.  

The following is a pointing of bamboo leaves done mostly with center-tip brushstrokes

Here is an example of one done mostly with side-tip brushstrokes (you can see the start of the brushstroke is a flat end, feels like putty knife)

Hopefully you can feel the different nuances presented by the two examples above.  Generally speaking, in paintings anyways, center-tip brushstrokes can be so "proper" that they become dry and monotonous.  Side-tip brushstrokes are more rambunctious and spirited, but can get away from you really easily.  

Speaking of being rambunctious, here is an example of just one bamboo leaf, done in the side-tip brushstroke:

The painting is the work of the famous Ling-nan style Master Chao Shao-An.

Which one do you prefer?  Do you paint (write) with those distinctions in mind?

Using the side-tip brushstroke, I "wrote" two half-circles.  I loaded the brush tip only with ink to better show the track of the tip.

I then garnished my half circles with some lines and now we have an insect.

These are all discrete brushstrokes but I am making a case of the character of the brushstrokes.  The legs on the left side of the insect were done center-tip.  The ones on the right were done in side-tip brushstroke, where I could modulate the shape of the line with greater ease.  Perhaps this is not too evident due to the small size of the brushstroke, but hopefully one can at least surmise that the legs on the right are more interesting and life-like.

Here's another example of how simple written lines and appropriate brushstrokes can represent an insect in this case.  This is what  "writing" a painting means.

When we mix center-tip and side-tip brushstrokes, we can transform simple lines in a fish.  I am hoping that one could easily tell that the pectoral fins are definitely side-tip brushstrokes.

Just for fun, I am including the following photo is see if one can distinguish the two different brushstrokes

In painting, we would use the entire nap of the brush.  We use the tip, the side and the belly.  We hold the brush vertical, leaning, or even rolling flat.  I suppose the side-tip brushstroke is more exaggerated and expansive in brush painting.

Again using a tip-loaded brush with ink, side-tip brushstrokes describe the petals of a flower.

When the brush is totally flat on the paper, the with judicious positioning of the ink-loaded tip, we can see how a variegated petal or leaf can be described.

I hope to plead my case that the Chinese round brush is not just a tool for mark making, or dabbing.  The proper use of the brush demands knowledge, and most of all, practice.  If we fail to see it as a calligraphy instrument first, then we have minimized its importance in the realm of Chinese paintings.

 

 

 

Freeze the balls off brass monkey

Come off it!  I am not referring to the euphemistic colloquial description of testicles.  Or am I ?

I am just recounting my own experience with words and language.  As a non-native English speaker I often wonder where some English words or phrases come from.  In fact I was taking those words literally for quite a while because it was embarrassing to ask for its true meaning, and that many are as clueless as I am, even for native English speakers.

So with the advent of the web, I can do a lot of searching on my own, its authenticity and correctness notwithstanding.  At least it is  a starting point.  Now I know the phrase probably refers to the iron cannonballs falling off a brass tray which holds them.  Freezing and unfreezing supposedly cause the cannonballs to contract and shift, thus the stack collapses off the brass tray.  However, even this explanation is refuted by some.

Recently I had an experience with a nationally televised program which title borrows from Confucius and food.  The show tries to explore the intricacies of Chinese cuisines and in a tongue in cheek way tries to identify the origin of different foods by asking questions of the competing cultures; allowing them to assert dips on the origin of that food.  An example is whether cured ham, cured meat, pizza etc. originated from China.  You get the picture.  The host chef would visit chefs from different countries to get their opinion, and sometimes the show would even seek archaeological documentation and historians to support the claim.  We all know that this is not going to settle anything, but the production delves into a wide aspect of food related topics and culture and practices and the spin is fun and educational and certainly entertaining.

In episode #203 the host chef summoned a lot of effort to explain to the audience that the Chinese word 食 (eat) is made up of 人 (man) and 良 (good) by writing the Chinese character out on a chalkboard.  The assertion was that the Chinese word "eat" means it is good for a person (to eat).  I suppose such gallant and theatrical effort augments the sincerity and the authenticity of the explanation.

Except that I found the explanation to be contrived. Novel, perhaps.

As a native Chinese speaker I had taken the word for granted and never gave it any second thoughts.  Fueled by my questioning mind I explored the etymology of the word.  I wished I had my 辭源 ( a Chinese dictionary compendium of meaning, application and etymology of Chinese words) with me, but failing that I resorted to Baidu.

In this Chinese version of web encyclopedia, it stated that 良 actually means  quite a few things; "nice", "quite", "docile", "eternal", "virtuous" are some of the choices. Thus the word 食 (eat)  which combines "man" and "nice" could be construed to mean " to eat is good for a person", as the program suggested.

In the Chinese dictionary 辭海, the word 食 is treated as a radicle from which other words are built upon and not as separate radicles of  "man " and "nice".  In other words, Chinese language and writing treats 食 as a single word, and not divided into two separate components as asserted by the food show program.  Allow me to draw a parallel with English words: alcoholic means containing alcohol, acidic means sour.  These are examples of separating a word into 2 components to get the gist of word.  The same rule however does not apply to the word "antic".  

Actually the word 食 has nothing to do with either "man" or "good" or "nice"  The word 食 is a transformation from ancient pictography which painted a picture of food with a cover on it.

The left symbol is the original oracle bones script version, depicting a lid on edibles; and the word on the right is the modern day version.

I also consulted a Chinese site Guoxuedashi (國學大師) and it again points to the hieroglyphic script that shows a roof cover or lid or top, with the middle part resembling the vessel that holds food and the bottom part depicting a base that supports the vessel and the lid.  For the viewers who read Chinese, here is the excerpt from the site

I am attaching a picture of one such item (perhaps ?) from my fireplace mantel to show the lid and the container with base.

Thank you to the programming for leading me down the rabbit hole to explore my own culture.

I contacted the program to share with them my findings.  Their explanation is that Chinese characters can be analyzed at multiple levels, and that they had consulted with people who are Chinese born and educated in Chinese cuisines.  Now the first part of the sentence is correct but the second part is as valid as asking an avid British air traveler about the history of their Comet Airliner.  Better yet, what is the meaning of the archaic word Husbandman?  Any guesses as to how many native English speaker know the meaning of that word (Answer: farmer). I am a native born Chinese for more years than I care to elaborate, and yet I didn't know the true derivation of the word 食.  So the program producer pitted one native Chinese against another.  I posed the same question to some of my ethnic Chinese friends, and none of them could give me the correct answer.  We, as native Chinese, have taken our own writing for granted.  Equating a native Chinese as the de facto authority in Chinese word etymology is a slippery slope.  I understand that the prime objective of the food show is perhaps entertainment and not accuracy.  As they put it, that is subject to interpretation. Perhaps they have bit off more than they could chew. 

Picture me trying to elucidate "freeze the balls off brass monkey" by placing a monkey made of brass on a table and try to freeze its balls off?  Pretty absurd, isn't it?

Our local culture venue clearly had the same assumption by inviting Chinese calligrapher and painter to do demonstration of the brush art.  As these artists gyrated their brushes, slanting the shafts of their instruments into a dance, the audience, and the venue deemed beautiful and credible art was made.  The audience was given an opportunity to learn about the art of Chinese calligraphy and painting.  That was the intention.

This is an example of the calligraphy of the day

Notice the lack of definition in the turns in the blue circle.  This is due to failure to control the down force, forcing the hairs of the brush to work beyond their capability.  The heavy line preceding the blue circle is an indication of this impending doom.

Contrast that with this example

notice how all the twists and turns are resolute and decisive.  The energy of the brushstroke does not diminish throughout the writing.  The calligrapher had utmost control of the writing instrument.

The red circle again signifies a heavy smudge resulting from a failure to lift the brush.  As if to extinguish a cigarette.   In other words, lack of control of the brush.

Now look at an example of a proper brushstroke

notice in the first character within the blue circle, the lift to a point immediately preceding the dot  and also notice the dagger like down stroke from the second character.  And while you are at it, appreciate the twists and turns in the brushstrokes of this calligraphy piece. They are resolute and carry the energy through the strokes.

The green circle is a most abhorrent example. When it comes to the extended brushstroke, the tip of the brush must absolutely be smack in the center and the energy of stroke must be demonstrated as relentless. The stroke should feel and look like a dagger or a lightning rod, ready to discharge.  The calligrapher that day put down a dead snake with severed vertebrates and skin peeling off (my graphic animation is not meant to be derisive but to make a point).  It is obvious that instead of putting the tip of the brush right down the middle, he instead placed it on the left.  This is the same as driving a car with incorrect toe-in or toe-out angles.... your front tire is worn unevenly on the sides.  Then he decided to dress up the writing by making the line longer and pressed down again.  Unfortunately he never had the correct placement of the tip to begin with, so now the belly of the brush sat down and formed the triangular sliver hanging by a thread.

This is how it should be done

Thus the calligrapher of the day was not paying attention to the tip of the brush and that is the basis of Chinese brush calligraphy.  The tip to Chinese calligraphy is to know your tip.  He was clearly outside of his tessitura, to quote a vocal term.

When it came to painting demonstration, another artist presented a example of his work to validate his skill in brush painting

and then proceeded to give the audience something like this during the demonstration:

It simply did not compute.  Where did he learn to paint a highway lane dividing line as contour line of a mountain.  How did the brushstrokes from his sample work deteriorated into pencil drawing?

What I am alluding to here are examples of the failure of learning by rote.  We as students learn and study by emulating, copying works from classical masters.  This is true for calligraphy students and painting students alike.  Except that a lot of us, myself included, fail to internalize the fundamentals of the craft.  Thus we are forever in a state of emulating, stifling any sense of originality.  The result is when the source material, the Tie for example in calligraphy, is taken away, we are left with striking an awkward pose, like an amateur model.

Incidentally, Chinese seldom refer to brushstroke as a brushstroke per se.  We use the word 筆觸 (brush contact, brush touch) to denote brushstroke.  Thus more emphasis is placed on the contact patch than the simple act of motion of the brush.  There is a subtle yet critical difference in the interpretation of the brush movements.

It is not my intention to be especially harsh or nitpicking with these artists.  It is perhaps my fervent desire to separate fact from fiction; fad from substance.  Chinese brush art is a somewhat arcane form of art and some of the aesthetic cues are not evident to the casual onlooker.  The fact that some native Chinese can write something with a brush doesn't automatically qualify him as a Chinese calligrapher or a painter.  For that matter, anybody who wields a Chinese brush.  By knowingly maintaining my silence and not pointing out the proper yardstick to use  I would be contributing to the ignorance and the platitude.  To me, Chinese brush art appreciation and wine drinking, especially the red variety, share some similarities.  A wine consumer does not necessarily have to know the science of tannins, but one should be able to at least tell the difference that tannins contribute to the brew.  The average red wine drinker might not be able to identify a Shiraz from a Malbec, but should be at the very minimum able to taste the difference.  I am just trying my best to show the tannins in Chinese brush works.

Speaking of being esoteric, I retrieved a painting from my friend's garbage can.  It was discarded because my friend thought the painting was a failure, obviously.

I looked at the painting and was amazed at the quality of the brushstrokes.  To me, that was a prime example of how to "write" a painting.  I was in fact, jealous.

It reminded me of a past encounter, the Iquazu Falls, only more poetic

One has to appreciate all the discrete brushstrokes; the way the thundering water is depicted:

No smudging, not much of a wash.  Absolutely not a fill in the space with color type of "painting".
Even the simple birds are written strokes and not painted strokes.  As if a word is being written.

and be engulfed by the turbulent torrent.

So I convinced my friend to reconsider.

She did.

Incidentally the only alteration she did to the piece after reviving it from the garbage can was to add in the flock of birds to give the waterfalls some perspective.

The painting was entered in a local arts showcase competition but failed to jury in.

I know art appreciation is very subjective, but I also know that not all jurors here possess the education to properly appreciate Chinese brushwork.  I believe a lot of them are like the audience and the sponsors in the demonstration; skimming the surface and being ignorant of the tannins.  This is not a passive consolation or sour grapes.  It is just my perceived reality.

So my friend entered her painting at an international Chinese brush painting competition.  Second Place she was awarded.  Perhaps this is due to the nature of the competition, being limited to the genre of Chinese brush painting, instead of the local open call.  Nonetheless, justice and vindication at last.

Again, I am not trying to be a snob and be critical about the Foodie program or the local art scene that I described, not in a malicious way anyways.  I am trying to point out the less obvious and to address some of the misconceptions; about somethings that we often take for granted.

I am grateful that the Foodie program stirred me to find meaning in something as fundamental as 食.

I am grateful that the brass monkey is not a primate.

I am grateful that balls of brass monkey are not anatomical features.

Now I just need to investigate how cold the witch's tits are.

Wicker Basket Still Life

I publish my blog on the topic of Chinese Brush painting, but I have to delve into something very personal this time and it has nothing to do with painting.

 Today is my birthday.  What is significant is that I am not going to encounter this ever again.  I was born on November 11.  So regardless of what convention you use, date first, month first, or year first, today is 11-11-11, and I am going to publish this at 11:11.  Pardon my pensiveness.

My personal experience, and those of other novices whom I have dealt with, is that when we see
skinny lines, we automatically dialed down our grip and turned our brush into a point rather than a brush.  The result is the deposition of lines with a boundaries, but possessing no souls.

The concept of transmitting energy through the brush, penetrating the Xuan, past the felt pad, past the desk top is obscure but not mythical.  I suppose this is analogous to martial artists focusing past the pine board and punching through.  My mantra is let our brush make love to the paper, not just tickling the surface.

For my own practice, I chose to do a still life of a wicker basket.  The orderly array of weaves, thrown into this parabolic contour of the container, reminds me of something that the architect Frank Gehry might try to do.

It is important that I still try to write these lines instead of drawing them.  I tried to use a dry brush with varied ink tones to render the 3 dimensional appearance.  The shading effect is achieved  by using the belly of a dry brush.  This is a good way to ruin a brush, but  is a necessary collateral.
This kind of shading speaks of the T'sa technique mentioned in my prior blogs.  It puts down texture and changes light value.  The highlighted areas are void spaces.

This is a wonderful way to practice brush stroke, especially center tip stroke, without getting bored.

Bamboo Leafs Tutorial and Brush Pronation

As I am forced to deal with how to paint bamboo, I am increasing frustrated by my own ineptness  in rendering a good painting, and the difficulty in explaining the mechanics of the brush stroke, especially with regards to the leafs.

As I thumb through the "How To" books of painting bamboo, there are vast examples of how to paint and group the leafs in an ethereal array.   Sadly, very few of them reveal the underlying brush stroke.

I could only hark back to my days of learning bamboo.....center tip, center tip, fast, sharp strokes.
Fine!  I get all that, but how do I add variety to the shape of the leafs??  My  relentless practice just adds more clones  to my collection, neither rhythmic, nor eclectic.  My teacher just kept saying, watch me, do as I do.

So what does pronation ( and supination) has to do with painting bamboo leafs?

Everything !

When we hold our brush vertical with the plumb line, anything added pressure will force the belly of the brush to sit evenly on both sides of the center line.  Thus a rather symmetrical leaf shall appear.
If we hold the brush with the shaft pointing towards our body, then more of the brush belly would be making contact below the center line.  Thus a leaf with a skewed right flank will take shape.  Conversely if hold the brush with the shaft away from our body, the result is a leaf with a skewed left flank.

This discovery prompted me to think in terms of pronation or supination.  Evidence of those is very apparent in how we wear out the heels of our shoes.    A pronated ankle causes the inside edge of the shoe heel to wear out  (most evident for people afflicted with  Knock Knees), and a supinated ankle wears on the outside edge of the heel.  Supposedly one could tell an introvert from an extrovert just by looking at the heels of their shoes.  Anyways, when the palm is twisted towards our body, that is the supinate position, and pronate is when the palm is twisted away from our torso.  Therefore for a right handed person, a supinate  grasp of the brush will result in a bamboo leaf with the fat side to the right of the vein, and a pronated angle of the brush will have a heftier left side.

The significance of pronation and supination  that if we want bamboo leafs  to look lively and natural, we should paint them as clusters rather than individual leafs.  Let me be more succinct, we are going to paint 4 leafs in a cluster.  As we embark on the first leaf (positioned to the extreme left of the cluster), our brush is in a natural supinated position.  As we move over to the next leaves ( to the right ) the angle of the brush is incrementally decreasing towards vertical plumb ( true center tip ) and progressing towards pronation as we drift to the right side of the cluster.  My assertion is that we should try to paint the leaves as a combination of multiple related, continuous strokes, separated only by lifts of the brush, but no hiccups in flow.

The last picture posted above is an example of painting the leafs in groups of 3 or 4 and allowing pronation to occur naturally, thus the body of our brush strokes exhibit different profiles of the leaves.  As the ink soot leaves the brush the strokes become lighter and dryer.  Exploit this trait to lay down  the fainter brush strokes, which help to create depth.
The following is lifted from a "How To" book on painting bamboo leafs and is just a small sample of the hundreds of possibilities of arranging and writing bamboo leafs.  The problem with this rote learning, as I come to realize, is that we are so bound by these prescribed imagery that what we do at best is regurgitation of a lifeless pose.  What these illustrations do not tell us is the assembly of  dance movements that lead to these poses.  If only we can paint the leafs not as individual blades, but as a community, and allow our wrists to go through the various and natural angles of pronation and supination, to imitate the natural growth sequence of the clusters, then our efforts shall be a rewarded with dynamic strokes.

The embedded video shall illustrate my attempt at painting the bamboo leafs pictured above, and some of the points that I have opined.  Granted the leafs do not look that good (just a frustrated painter, but my theory is still sound ) nonetheless the final product is not without emotional salvage.

Pronate, Supinate, do not Regurgitate ! 

My new mantra.