I am an enthusiast of Chinese Brush Painting and I would like to share my trials and tribulations in learning the craft. I want to document the process, the inspiration and the weird ideas behind my projects and to address some of the nuances related to this dicipline. I hope to create a dialogue and stir up some interest in the art of painting with a Chinese brush on Xuan. In any case, it would be interesting to see my own evolution as time progresses. This is my journal
Thursday, May 5, 2022
Red Cliffs Nostalgia III Multnomah Falls
Thursday, April 28, 2022
Monday, April 11, 2022
Red Cliffs Nostalgia II Vista House
After the Stonehenge on the left side of the painting is situated, it is time to build on the rest of the points of interest on my reinvented Columbia River Gorge.
Vista House sits on top of Crown Point in the Gorge and is a popular scenic vantage point to visit. From there one can see the Gorge and the river some 700 feet below. If one tries hard enough, one can see the towns of Washougal and Camas to the west on the Washington State side of the river. The architect of Vista House described it as "a temple to the natural beauty of the Gorge," I am borrowing it with certain amount of faithful realism to fit my Red Cliffs invention.
Friday, April 1, 2022
Exhibition
I was offered an opportunity to show my works at a gallery recently. This was going to be a solo exhibition with 28 of my works.
In the past when I was designing the exhibitions I felt more at ease because the venues were more informal and the personnel involved were all personal friends of mine and they knew my works. I felt that there was a lot of unspoken communications and still we were on the same page. I was able to get my ideas across with simple diagrams and everybody understood their roles instinctively.
Inkflow is the app on my iPad that have served me well over the years; for all the exhibitions that I've been involved in. I could snap a picture of the venue and make free hand written notes on the picture.
I could upload a picture of the venue and plan my layout off the picture. For that to work, I needed to be familiar with the size and dimension of the proposed pieces, so that I could draw them in place and get an idea of how it could pan out.
Or I could draw the size of my walls free hand and upload the proposed pieces and shrink them to size and see how they would look on the wall. Again, having an intimate knowledge of the pieces is vital, since I had to shrink the pictures down free hand, not to exact scale, thus not achieving the exact relative dimensions to the display wall. I needed to know how many of such pieces could potentially fit on the walls; either by measurement of the pieces, or by eyeballing the measurements. Nonetheless this was a fast and sure way of checking out an idea.
For this exhibition I had to be a little more structured. I was working with people I've never met before and they had absolutely no idea of what my pieces were like, other than the thumbnails I provided them with. I wasn't sure that my haphazard road map would not make too much sense to who I considered strangers basically. I needed to draw up a schematic. This reminded me of the days when I was a working pharmacist and I had to set up merchandise shelves on the sales floor. The exact location of each medication and appliance with their dimensions were all spelled out in no uncertain terms. Fortunately the schematic was done by the cooperate office and my job simply was to set them up accordingly.
Thus the schematic I created was to scale. I used graphing paper for my floor map and cut-out pieces of my paintings. This was the master plan that everybody involved with the installation would be following.
I had included a few pieces of works that are not framed but in the un-mounted state. I also included my wet-mounting board with a mounted painting still on it. I wanted to introduce the audience to the kinds of Xuan paper I used and how a painting comes from being painted to ready for framing. For these un-framed pieces I was introduced to push pins with magnets. The magnets hold the paper on the push pins and keep the paintings on the wall without sticking holes in them. Sweet! I found my new toy!!
I placed all my zodiac pieces framed in red on the wall across from the entry, such that people can see them through the grated doors even when the gallery is not open. Also I think the vibrant color helps to draw in a casual audience.
I had all my monochromatic float pieces, (my Sulio Xuan Ban pieces) on one wall, as a suite.
My large pieces on one wall.
The installation went off like clockwork and was finished in no time. The exhibition was well received, obviously I was elated.
I am very thankful!
Tuesday, March 15, 2022
Red Cliffs Nostalgia I, The Stonehenge
Now that I have the calligraphy in the bag, I can proceed in earnest to work on my painting.
As I mentioned in my last blog, the verses are from the famous Song Dynasty scholar/official Su Shi (Su Dongpo) when he visited Chibi and was being sentimental while reminiscing the historical events that happened some 800 prior. The Battle of Chibi ( English translation Battle of the Red Cliffs) was about a naval war between adversaries and the outcome depended on a change of wind direction. Which way the wind blew was vital because fire was employed as the tactic in this conflict. Whoever could predict and take advantage of the change of wind direction became the victor. The exact location of Chibi is still highly debated, but suffice to say that it is along the Yangtze River.
The Columbia River Gorge in the Pacific Northwest is a designated National Scenic Area and the town of Hood River has the distinct honor of being the Windsurfing Capital of The World. This section of the gorge compresses the east-west wind and amplifies its magnitude. On windy days tourist would venture up to the Vista House on top of Crown Point and try to stand up unassisted in the 70 mph winds. When the east wind blows, we get dry heat funneling through from the east in the summer, and cold frigid winds in the winter. Westerly wind brings moderation and weather system from the Pacific Ocean. Present day Gorge is dotted with wind turbines now.
Farther east from the Vista House, we have the famous Falls area, Multnomah Falls being the most well known. Beyond that near the cities of Mosier and The Dalles lies the serpentine stretch of Historic Columbia Rivery Highway, where cyclists and motorists alike enjoy the challenge of the winding blacktops. At the end of such switchbacks is the Rowena Loop, which is a circular drive at the Rowena Crest Viewpoint where one can enjoy the Columbia River down below. Spring wild flowers and birds harnessing the updraft from the cliffs for take-offs make this Viewpoint a popular respite for travelers. Thirty minutes car ride east across the river from the loops gets one to the Maryhill Museum, Maryhill Winery and the adjacent Stonehenge replica.
What if I utilize all these vistas and the Columbia River as a backdrop for my painting? I think it is a perfect setting for reminiscing and it reflects the spirit of the meaning effused by the verses from Su. I also find a special connection with and relate to the wind in the river gorge. I can definitely visualize a battle involving the use of fire being carried out here.
I am making up some rules for me to follow in doing this painting. One is I shall not hurry. Two is I shall try to present the painting with more classical means of depiction and brushstrokes. Three is I shall incorporate each of the four vistas mentioned and each vista can be viewed as a painting by itself.
I am starting with a sketch of my main points of interest and the general layout of the proposed painting. This makes it much easier for me to work on individual sections later. Somehow I feel more disciplined this way, and more apt to take my time in developing the details.
First come the Stonehenge, occupying the lower left hand corner of the painting.
A more developed painting, with light values and initial texturing. Notice the classical presentation of foliage.
Thursday, March 3, 2022
Bane of my existence
FaceTime and WhatsApp are indispensable apps these days, thanks in part to the pandemic. Regardless, these apps dissolve the physical distance between people and the audio/visual combination makes the virtual visitation experience credible. Kudos to whoever made it possible for multiple people to connect at the same time.
My ensemble of siblings is situated on 3 different continents and in 3 different time zones; so we usually meet at a time which would not inconvenience any one of us too much. During a recent visit, one of my siblings started to recite a verse from some poetry. That verse was somewhat familiar to the rest of us, yet we couldn't identify the origin readily. Thus the source of the verse became the conversation for the next half hour. The sibling who uttered that poem said it was from the collection of the Three Hundred Tang Poems.
Tang Poems was a subject that each one of us in the group had to study as part of the school curriculum. That was at least half a century ago. The amazing thing was that we were all able to produce our own copy of the Tang Poems and proudly displayed our book in front of the camera and the conversation quickly turned to a bantering of who owns the most "antique" edition of the publication, as if that really mattered. Obviously we all considered the collection of Tang Poems a worthy addition to our library.
Some days later, I was with another clique of overseas friends online and one of them mentioned something about how some of the Chinese hit songs borrowed verses from well known Chinese literature and turned them into part of the lyrics or part of the title. The topic that day centered around a poetry that dealt with the historic Battle of Red Cliffs. I won't bore you with the historical facts. It is easy enough to find it on the internet. I am not a total stranger to this poetry, since the author was Su Dongpo. Su was visiting the Red Cliffs, which evoked in him a sentiment of inopportune times and not earning the respect he deserved.
I decided to do a painting based on Su's writing of "The Red Cliffs Nostalgia" and I would be putting calligraphy on my painting. I will be paring down his poetry into a more manageable length, not only to save space, but to save grace. My grace.
The bane of my existence, and there are two. I wish I could properly play at least one musical instrument; I wish I have good brush calligraphy.
I had labored over Su Dongpo's calligraphy during my course of learning Chinese Brush. One that I studied and emulated extensively was his Cold Food Festival writing. Since it was learning by rote for me, I never internalized the calligraphy. In other words, I have horrible handwriting, in the absence of the Te. In order not to "ruin" my painting, I decided to do my calligraphy first. I won't start my painting process until I deem my calligraphy "presentable". That is how much I dread my own calligraphy.
I started my practicing routine.
The gist of the pared down writing is:
"The incessant waves urge the river eastward, taking with them all the accomplished people. Such picturesque landscape, how much history have you witnessed. Perhaps I am being too sentimental, reminiscing the days gone by. Life is but a dream; allow me to scatter my wine, ode to the river and the moon."
I finally took a deep breath, threw my hands up and settled on this edition:
I find such resonance in these words, hence the motivation for my new painting.
Monday, February 28, 2022
Ethnicity and Culture in arts
Aside from brush painting, music is my other vice. I was watching a recording of a masterclass given by a musician who had been immersed in the art for half a century. This particular segment involved a singer who sang 'Du bist die Ruh' for the workshop. This song was composed by Franz Schubert, lending his music to poem of a German poet. The soft and expressive song would demand more than perfect pitch and breath control from the singer, as I came to find out.
After the customary pat on the back, the master laid into the singer and sermonized the real issue.
"This is not an opera. Lieder! Lieder!"
What I find impressive is the master was contrasting Opera and Lied. I know these are different genres of works, but I believe ethnicity and culture play a huge role in defining opera and Lied as we know them in western music. When the master screams passionately "Lieder, Lieder" he is succinctly pointing out the narrow definition of a song form which Schubert happens to be perhaps the most famous Romantic composer. What was demanded of the student in the masterclass was not only the technique, but what was summed up in three words, "Give me Lieder"! We know immediately that this is music of a poetic German song form. The setting of a solo voice and piano does not necessarily reward a real projection of voice, but the piano and the singer share equal burdens to narrate the poetry musically.
Since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, can't we say songs are in the ears of the beholder also? Does music not function as a trigger, and the audience empathize and reverberate with their own life experiences, regardless of the quality of the performance? Yes, but then this defeats the purpose of conducting a masterclass on singing, does it not? Famous caveat from the master: "you can perform the music however you want, but this is what I suggest."
Thus one would not expect this Lied from Schubert to sound like a recitative from Don Giovanni. In this case, it has to have the personality of a Lied, which is foremost; and it has to sound like Schubert, and not Mozart. The singer needs to make belief that these are his precious and sensual words, and I am paraphrasing here. ' You are the calm, close the gate softly behind you; drive the pain out of the breast, my heart full with pleasure'. The drama is from within. The student however placed technique and accuracy above the cultural nuance of Lieder and failed to convey the delicate feeling of the Lied.
I had the pleasure of listening to a performance of Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto, which has a synopsis based on a well-known Chinese folklore. The performance was by a violin soloist and accompanied by piano and not a full orchestra. Both the violinist and the accompanist performed beautifully and yet people were arguing whether the soloist was a Chinese, Korean or Japanese. And there were also comments to the effect that anybody could play Mozart or Bach, thus her ethnicity had no bearing to her performance. Is such a statement an extrapolation of "music transcends all racial barriers", or is it a misunderstanding and misinterpretation of the phrase? The argument here should be if the soloist in particular, was able to articulate the love tragedy resulting from hidden identity and arranged marriage in the old Feudal Chinese society. I have a recording of this piece performed on an Erhu, and I would go so far as to say that this Chinese bowed instrument is even more suited to portray the temperament of the composition. Perhaps the Erhu itself is unmistakably Chinese?? Not convinced? Imagine listening to a Wieniawski violin concerto played with an Erhu and you'll understand what I am attempting to convey.
Then I had the misfortune of listening to a clip sent by a friend of mine, of a western harpist playing a very famous Chinese tune on a western harp.
First of all, allow me to emphasize that I am not objecting to playing Chinese music with western musical instrument. Heaven knows I spent my childhood playing scores of Chinese tunes on my harmonica; and sometimes on a cracked violin in the fire-escape staircase ( to get better acoustics ). What I am having issue here is the interpretation of the Chinese music. My beef is not with the instrument, but with the musician.
Chinese music has not attained the global status of classical music in that classical music have been played millions of times in the modern world and have millions of recordings by different artists that one can easily emulate. I mean, no human alive today would know how exactly Mahler or Schubert played their works, other than markings of dynamics, expression, tempo and perhaps a few handwritten footnotes on the original scores. With subsequent invention of recording, there are tons of recordings of their works by the later musicians. After a while the collective styles of such playing become standards and different scholars chime in with their opinion of how a piece should really sound like. With claims such as "a Schubert pianissimo is not the same as a Chopin pianissimo", as if the claimant was by the side of the composers when the music was written. For a "catchy" Chinese tune to be performed properly, especially by a non-Chinese, it takes more than technique, but an immersion in the culture in order to distill the flavor of a Chinese song. It takes understanding. There just aren't as many examples of "proofs" of these Chinese songs that one can study and emulate. Often times western musicians become parrots; repeating musical phrases without necessarily understanding them. Of course the same applies to Asian musicians playing western compositions. Too often we generalize Chinese and the West as two distinct monoliths and do not want to invest the effort into a better understanding of the differences and similarities between the two, especially from a cultural and linguistic point of view.
The harp piece I listened to was played very energetically; bright and full of confidence; with all the attributes of a top-notch harpist. The harpist made percussive sounds by pounding on the wooden soundboard, as if to imitate a rim shot on a lion dance drum.
The Chinese piece that was played paints a very serene and calming scene, with the full moon tailing this little boat as it floats quietly along a river through mist, white sand and tree branches. The song asks the rhetorical question of whether the boater's lover (who was not in the boat) gets to witness the same moon as the boater and experiences the same inevitable journey of the boat gliding downstream, not being able to back paddle. They are drifting away from each other, with no assurance of a rendezvous. Time waits for nobody.
The song was about separation, longing and the passage of time. The gamut of emotions would not accommodate bright plucking, nor drum percussion effect. The moon light bathes the boat in misty air and shimmering water. The moon light was not a beam of lightning from claps of thunder. Granted the startling percussion might have sounded great in other songs, but to embellish this particular song with that is the worst kind of patronizing possible. Cultural differences become cultural barriers and nothing gets transcended. It is suspect of adding a cliché Asian element to make something more Asian. Regrettably, robing Marilyn Monroe in qipao does not make her Chinese. Is this an example of cultural appropriation, I wonder. Obviously music is a performing art and the artist has the freedom to interpret the music. Within the context of the piece, that is. I like to believe the era of playing some pentatonic dissonant riffs and finishing with a loud gong to portray Asian music or culture is behind us.
I was invited to a swanky American restaurant for their outlandishly priced Tasting Menu and one of the courses was Chinese Broccoli with Beef. An army of servers marched out in procession each clutching an iconic Chinese Take-out box, apparently to add drama to the presentation, and to convince the patrons that their meal ticket was well spent, and served the eight patrons seated at my table simultaneously. Chinese use a wok for stir fry because the curved sides of the wok offers a temperature gradient to modulate the cooking process and the concave bottom allows a reservoir of hot oil to sit in, extracting the flavors of garlic and ginger and what not, infusing the food with these subtle aroma. The beef in the Chinese Broccoli with Beef must be flashed in hot oil and not be smothered on a grill or a flat pan and dressed with Oyster Sauce. There is such a saying in the Cantonese vernacular regarding cooking, and it's called "Wok Hay". "Hay" is the Cantonese pronunciation for "Chi", thus wok energy. In other words, a person should be able to feel and enumerate the heat of the wok and the steps in throwing the ingredients together, with their palate. Obviously this pretentious restaurant knew convincingly little about the art of Chinese cooking. Anyways I asked the waiter to inform the Chef that his/her version of Chinese Broccoli with Beef was an insult to Chinese food, and if he/she wishes, I would be happy to give him/her a few pointers in the kitchen. Obviously I was ignored, and the restaurant didn't even have the courtesy to discount my exorbitant food bill.
Hence I submit ethnicity and culture are critical, albeit not always obvious, factors in shaping and understanding art and we appreciate and practice art based on our own inventory of sensibilities and prejudices. Different cultures have vastly different preferences in spices and tastes in epicurean art so why are other disciplines of art immune from cultural influences. Music in this case is inextricably tied to the language of the culture. It carries the cadence and inflection that is unique to the language in question. Perhaps I can draw similarities between speaking a native language or speaking with a foreign accent. I further submit that culture is more encompassing than ethnicity. This is the basis behind the term "banana", a derisive nomenclature used to denote people who are "yellow on the outside, but white on the inside". Culture affects everything we do, even in the arts.
Perhaps two examples of paintings can help to further illustrate my point. Vincent Van Gogh did a painting of a Japanese courtesan, based on a original painting of a courtesan by a Japanese painter Keisai Eisen. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keisai_Eisen) Van Gogh tried to be faithful with the facial features and the headdress and the backward glance of the courtesan but took liberty with the kimono and the background. ( https://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0116V1962) It wouldn't take but a cursory look to sense the different flavors in the two works, and which one is done by a Japanese painter. So the elephant in the room is, what are the defining factors, what are the clues. What makes Schubert different from Puccini; Van Gogh from Eisen; East from West.
Then an Italian missionary came to the East; China specifically, during the Qing dynasty and stayed for half a century. He painted a huge body of works, a lot of which borrowed the classical Chinese painting technique and ethos. Some of the exotic animals in the paintings and perhaps his not quite Chinese way of managing color and light values betrayed his ethnicity/culture but only to the discerning eye. Did his cultural biases and identity prevented him from adapting and adopting one hundred percent to the discipline of Chinese painting? One could say that his native tongue and "accent" in his painting gave him away. I am of course referring to Giuseppe Castiglione. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giuseppe_Castiglione_(Jesuit_painter)
I was using the example of Lieder to state my case of how ethnicity and culture might impact performing art. To draw an example from the East, falsetto voices from Chinese Opera, be it Peking or Cantonese is so unique that there could be no mistaking them as being absolutely uniquely Chinese. Even folk songs from different regions of China carry their own nuances and it will be just as plausible for a presenter of masterclass on Chinese songs to demand "Hungmei tone! Huangmei tone!" Thus it is just as crucial for the performer to know about the origin and style of this genre of songs, drawing a parallel to the "Lieder" example. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huangmei_opera
Falsettos are commonly employed in both Western and Eastern singing. They are however vastly different in various cultures and they can identify the culture associated with them.
In visual arts "Chuen" is a technique that is almost ubiquitous in classical Chinese landscape paintings. I alluded to it in my blog "Gou, Chuen, Ts'a, R'an". It is the brushstroke used to impart texture to the landscape. The closest equivalence from the West that I could summon is perhaps the "hatching" or "cross-hatching" technique in drawing. The lines are used as a non-messy way of shading an object, and to a lesser extent, adding some texture. "Chuen" on the other hand, is used mainly to characterize texture, and to a lesser extent, shading. We have the elements of Ts'a (rubbing) and R'an (wash) to satisfy the shading part. It is interesting to note that shading is almost always judiciously applied and strong shading is actually not preferred in classical painting; it could be misconstrued as being a "dirty stain". I believe this is the reason classical Chinese paintings are very two-dimensional and flat looking; especially in portraits. The mark of competency, the Rembrandt Triangle of the Western ideal would have resulted in more than a brow beating.
Rote learning being a necessary evil in perfecting the craft of Chinese Brush painting, the Mustard Seed Garden has pages on the various styles of "chuen" by different masters and a compendium of some typical ways to "chuen", and the students are expected to pore over these materials and keep emulating until they "get it". With easy-to-understand names such as lotus leaf, draping hemp fibers, folded ribbons, axe hatching, sesame seed etc., the "chuen" brushstroke sometimes utilizes the tip of the brush only, sometimes the side of the brush is employed for effect. The accompanied pictures are taken from the book of Mustard Seed Garden showing the different "chuen" brushstrokes.
The presence of "chuen" brushstrokes in a landscape painting would be a good indicator that the painter has studied Chinese Brush painting methods because it is uniquely Chinese. Chinese brush painting like everything else cannot exist in a vacuum and as interaction with other civilization increases, a western and other Asian cultural influence is inevitable and hybridization ensues. However, even the relatively contemporary Qi Baisi and Zhang Daqian still employed such classical techniques such as "chuen". The contemporary impressionist Wu Guanzhong on the other hand only showed remnants of such practice. https://www.comuseum.com/painting/masters/wu-guanzhong/
In reviewing my old paintings, I realized that I skimmed on the "chuen" aspect of my paintings and relied on the rubbing and wash elements to render the dimensional feel, and I definitely would not call myself a contemporary impressionist!
I can feel the conductor of Classical Chinese Brush MasterClass barking at me: "Chuen! Chuen!"
There are only two reasons for that, being inept and being lazy. Or could it be that I am westernized?
Since I don't have anything better, or more meaningful to do, I decide to paint over one of my finished paintings and build up more "chuen" brushstrokes. I have nothing to lose but a piece of paper should I fail.
So I forge ahead with the ribbon and hemp fiber and sesame seed "chuen" strokes and build on the areas that had been rubbed and washed previously.
The right side of the painting is now much darker, due to the additional brushstrokes. This makes a even stronger contrast to the landscape across the water, and this is the effect I am looking for. The precipitous rock face is now convincingly in the shadow, against the backdrop of the salmon colored sky. The added "cheun" most definitely gives the landscape loads of texture, giving it a three-dimensional appearance. One might say that it has pop now. But then I might have committed the crime of rendering my painting too dimensional, too forceful; in the realm of classical virtues anyways. Perhaps my work is more of a elevator music variety than a Lied. Perhaps this is the reason some of my peers shun me.
I decide to reign myself in and do some honest practicing on the technique of "chuen". Practice makes perfect, I am told.