I'm not a scholar, literary or otherwise.
My Caucasian friends are bantering with me, each insisting our form of poetry is better and reaches deeper depths in our emotional abyss. Neither my friends nor I are what one would consider scholars, so the argument is just a way to bond, strangely enough. One thing that often rubs me the wrong way is however that they always use the term Haiku generically. They call any Asian poetry Haiku and they think Chinese poetry is the same as Haiku. Thus their perspective is to compare western poetry to Haiku, which I know nothing about. Sure lemurs and humans are all primates, but they really are not the same animal, right?
Enough said.
That leads me to thumb through my Tang Poetry 300, which is the only text book from my primary school days that is still relevant. Granted I was too young to be pulled in by meanings of these poetries, but with age and life experiences I am able to distill more from the verses.
I revisited a poem by Wang Zhihuan, a Tang Dynasty poet.
白日依山盡 黃诃入海流 欲窮千里目 更上一層樓
"The sun disappears behind the hills, the yellow river flows to the sea. If the wish is to see for a thousand miles, one needs to climb another floor."
The first two line describes the setting. One creates the imagery of a a river, hills, disappearing sun and distance. The next two verses however addresses a wish, a yearning, a philosophy. This is when the poet urges us to use our own imagination, based on the framework that he has provided. In fact the last two verses were extremely popular when I was a kid signing graduation year-books. They are meant to inspire and encourage a person to reach for loftier heights, set bigger goals.
I have this painting that's been pinned on my wall and I deem it incomplete. It's missing something. This poem somehow fits the narrative of my painting, with a few modifications of the painting, that is.
I altered the sky around where the sun would set to denote an impending evening, without revealing the actual sun. As in poetry, the conjured emotion is more persuasive than the terse words.
Fortunately this was all fun and game for me. My ego wouldn't be hurt if someone disapproves my irreverence. I thought I was being smart to use a gadget like a fountain brush and I didn't know better to not try it.
At least I know now.
Live and learn.
When I wet mounted this piece, I used a single weight Xuan as my backing. Apparently it was too thin and no match for the forces generated by the drying and shrinking paper and tears showed up. Stress fractures!
I don't know if this has to do with the fact that we are having a hot day today. 92 degrees F outside and the room thermometer here registers 80 degrees. Perhaps the evaporation was too much, too fast? I've been told to not do any wet mounting in a hot room. Could this be the reason? This is something I need to keep an eye on in the future.