字幕表 動画を再生する 英語字幕をプリント DR. STANLEY MURASHIGE: First I want to talk about the Chinese writing system. A writing system is not exactly the same as calligraphy. When we talk about calligraphy, we are talking about the art of handwriting, the art of writing. And what I want to do is first introduce some basic aspects about the Chinese writing system. And then get into a little bit of the discipline of the practice of calligraphy. And then that will, I think, get us into my main theme, or main idea, is that in Chinese art-- and calligraphy is the highest of the arts. Well poetry, and then calligraphy. But calligraphy. And the visual arts is the highest of the arts. And then painting comes next. Is that when we think about art practice now, or think about art and image making, we talk in terms of representations. That the image is always referring to something. Referring to something outside of it. And the whole discourse of art making-- certainly teaching in an art school this is the case-- a whole discourse of art making assumes that that's what art is about. Whether we're talking about abstraction, or installation art, performance art, it's about referring something to something beyond what it is you're seeing visually. And I want to suggest that that's not really necessarily the best way to think about Chinese calligraphy or Chinese painting. That the real goal, if there is a goal, in the practice of calligraphy traditionally and the practice of painting traditionally, is that it's about participation. The world is something that we share. The world is a collaborative project. Human being is a collaborative project. And that the real goal of this discipline practice of creating something new is basically the same sort of practice listed out of the mundane world of say, for example, farming. One of the analogies that I use in my classes, the way that might help us understand the way I'm thinking about the practice of calligraphy and painting as fine arts in China traditionally, is it's like farming. And what is the goal of farming? Farming doesn't really represent anything. Farming's not directed to refer to something outside of it. Farming is about producing bounty. And producing bounty in the broadest sense. Of fertility, of human creativity, of having families, of having nutrition, of having bounty so that families can perpetuate themselves and create the human cycle in its relationship with nature, in partnership with nature anew. So I'm thinking about calligraphy and painting as historically developing in China as that kind of process. So let's start out with looking at a Chinese character. This is the character xie, to write. So this is the same Chinese character, but in several different forms. And so in my new-- I'm getting better at fancy PowerPoint presentations. So you see these different forms in the slide. And they're all the same Chinese character. So the first one, at the top, our sense is to try to go from the top down in a kind of chronological sequence. And that's partially true here, but it's not exactly true. So some of these characters, these styles of writing the same character, actually exist simultaneously. And they certainly do so now. So the first one, the oldest one though, is at the top. It comes to be called seal script. And I'll give you the Chinese and Mandarin pronunciation, zhuanshu. And I'll show you some examples of that and the sources for that. It originates with Bronze Age China. And Henry was talking about it this morning and going back to 1600 BCE and perhaps even earlier. But a lot of the writing, the earliest surviving writing that we have in the study of Chinese history, dates from the Bronze Age. These are inscriptions that were carved in to bone fragments that were used in divination ceremonies by Shang dynasty royalty. And some of them date to 1300 BCE and further back. And also this style of writing is also used to write inscriptions that are cast into ceremonial bronze vessels. Eventually I'll show you why in a moment, why it comes to be called seal script. So that's the earliest form of Chinese writing. In the Han Dynasty, a period roughly about the same time as the Roman republic and Roman Empire, 206 BCE to 220 in the common era. The formal writing, document writing, is done in what comes to be called lishu clerical script. And so that's what you see here. And this is close to what's down here, which is the regular script. Which is basically, you might say, is a canonical standard form for the writing of this character. This is a kind of script that was used early on for taking notes. It's called cursive or draft script. Sometimes you'll encounter it in English sources translated as grass script, because the character [CHINESE] sometimes also means grass. But it also means drafting or cursive. So it's more appropriate to call it a cursive script. And so that's what you see here. It also becomes a style of writing that is picked up by calligraphers. But it starts out as pretty much a way of shorthand note taking. And then something in between called running script. This is the standard here, if you write the standard in a slightly more simplified form. In a more fluid form, in a little bit more shorthand form, you get this running script. And then finally down here, a regular script, kaishu, which is pretty much the standard font or standard form of writing of this character that you'll see in publications. Book fonts are based upon this and so on. The bottom, the last one here, is a more modern concoction. Aesthetically challenged from my point of view. It's called simplified characters, jiantizi. This is something that was developed during the modern period, driven by educational reforms to help some of these Chinese characters, like this one has a lot of brush strokes in it. So it's a complicated thing to learn how to write. And so the idea is perhaps to simplify the writing system. To make it a little bit easier for school children to learn how to write. So, the simplified characters. Now the general cliche about Chinese characters is that they are pictographs. And that's not really true. I'm going to show you a couple examples of pictographs, or we call them pictographs. That is to say, early forms of writing that are sort of a picture, simplified pictures of the objects. About 85% of Chinese characters are not pictographs. And I'll show you what the bulk of Chinese characters, how they're written and what they look like. But a number of them are these kinds of pictures. So this is a cart or chariot wheeled vehicle. Or as one person once said to me, "wheeled conveyance." And in Mandarin, pronounced che. And so what you're looking at here is, in this chart, a series of different versions of this character. Which by the way, are not necessarily an evolutionary development from an earlier form that is more representational, such as this one, to something that's a little bit more abstract. Rather these are roughly simultaneous during the Bronze Age. So I give you this little bit of dating here. Bronze Age pictographs from circa 13th century BCE. So there's no standardized written form. This is actually one of the contributions of the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang. He is noted to have standardized the writing system. So you can see all these variant forms. And then down here is the regular script form that emerges out of the early standard and becomes later on the standard form, an image of a chariot or cart. Many Chinese characters are also graphs or visualization of concepts. And so here we have over and under, shang and xia. And from the Bronze Age images, you see this is a little form with a short line above it and the short line is below it. To suggest graphically the idea of above or underneath. So sometimes those are called ideographs, graphing out of ideas. You can actually combine characters to get different characters by duplicating. So we have two trees, and you get forest. We have three trees and we get a thick forest. And then also the meaning is dark and serious. Or combining two different characters or two different, in this particular case, pictographs. The sun, or some entomologists identified this as a window, but perhaps the sun. And the crescent of the moon, and they get the Chinese character for clear, brilliant, ming. But the most common form of Chinese characters involves this sort of combination of forms involving what linguists come to call radical, radical as in root meaning. So this part that's outlined here in pink is basically the part, forms a part of this column of characters you see here. And the radical gives you some sense of the connotation. It's a connotative part of the character's meaning. So we have this character li, meaning strength. Or this means hit, [CHINESE], a cave, or silk. Mu, tree. And then shui, water. So we can use that as a radical, a root meaning of a form. And we combine that with what's called a phonetic, which gives us a clue to the pronunciation. And during the course of the history of the Chinese language, the pronunciation of these words has changed. And so we'll see that in the modern pronunciations following what's called Mandarin Chinese. The modern Mandarin pronunciations have shifted. So this is a character in and of itself. Gong, which means, one of its meanings is to work. But here in combination with the radical to form a new character, it's not really there completely to have a connotative function. But rather to give a clue to the pronunciation. So when we take this phonetic, we put it here in this particular example on the left side. We take the character li for strength. Put them together, and we have a new character that's pronounced gong. This is pronounced gong, and so the character is pronounced gung, which means result. It's gong as in kong fu. Gong as in gong fu. So the accomplishment in martial arts through strength and through discipline practice and so on. Now if we take the character hit and combined it with gong, we get gong, to attack. Or if we take cave and we put cave on top of gong, we get empty or hollow. For a couple of meanings. But now it's pronounced in Mandarin Chinese, kong or kung. The pronunciation has shifted. And then we have silk, perhaps thinking of dyed red silk. And so you get the character meaning red, hong. And now the pronunciation is even further removed from gong. Adding a tree, we get a gung, which is a long pole to carry goods on it, hanging from the pole. And then we have water, which in this particular form on the left side turns into three dots. And we have jiang. And this means river. So but this is basically 80% to 85% of the Chinese writing system, Chinese characters, are of the sort. So they're not really in a sense pictographs. The Chinese brush. The way in which you write is using this implement that we call in English the brush. A student of mine, many years ago, was studying calligraphy with a very strict Chinese calligraphy teacher who insisted, he would get really angry if you ever referred to these things as a brush. This is a brush, well what do you do with a brush? You brush your teeth. You clean things with a brush. This is a writing implement. So we call it a pen. So hence I put brush or pen. These are different forms, different sizes, different animal hair. But basically a Chinese brush is a bundle of animal hairs that is glued in to a bamboo tube which serves as a handle. And actually I have a diagram that will show the different parts of the brush tip. You need ink. So this is a typical ink stick. Ink is basically carbon soot. You can burn various kinds of resins from trees and oils from trees, and the smoke is collected in a chimney. And the soot is collected from the chimney and mixed with a glue binder. And that turns the ink into a paste. And the paste is pressed into a mold. And then the ink cake dries. And then the ink comes in this form, hard but light stick. Or fancy 17th century ink cakes with all sorts of imagery and designs and auspicious signs on them for the use of the Chinese emperor. You need to reconstitute the ink, so you have to grind the ink. And this is an example of an ink stone. So you would put a few drops of water, perhaps in the deep end of the ink stone. And then you would take your stick of ink and then grind the ink stick on the surface of the stone in the water in a circular fashion to reconstitute the ink, to dissolve the ink into the water. A calligraphy teacher I had many years ago said that you can tell how patient you are by how rich the blacks are of your ink. Of course a lot of Chinese calligraphers now use high quality ink that comes in a bottle. Or this is a really fancy 18th century imperial stone for grinding your ink. This is a modern one that you can buy online. Actually I stole this picture from an online site. Here's the brush tip. All right. So it consists of four parts. Basically the hairs, the animal hairs. The various kinds of animals hairs can be used. It can be wolf hair, horse hair, rabbit hair, glued in to the open end of a bamboo tube. So the bamboo tube becomes the handle. The center part is called the core. So that's the core. And the core extends the whole length of the tip. And it can be of different sorts of animal hairs. Depending upon the quality of the brush tip you want, how flexible you want it to be, how pliable you want it to be, you'll choose different sorts of hairs, combinations of hairs. Also in some cases, you'll actually wax the core and get a little bit more stiff kind of a resilience. And then wrapped halfway around the core is a mantle. Another bundle of animal hairs. It can be different animal hairs or the same. And then finally, the outer layer. The outer layer goes the whole length of the tip of the brush. And there's a little space between the mantle and the outer layer which forms a kind of reservoir. Now a really good Chinese brush, when it is loaded with ink or pigment, will come to a beautiful tip, come to a nice point. And when it's loaded, the space between the mantle and the outer layer will serve as a kind of reservoir so that the brush can hold quite a bit of ink and you can do quite a bit of writing or painting before you need to reload the brush. And these brushes are not designed in the Western oil painting tradition. It involves a brush that's fairly stiff so that you can push around a paste. Basically oil paints are kind of paste-like. And so the Western brush is designed to be able to push paints. You cannot push oil paints with this. You'll just mess things up. This is a device that is allowed to enable you to control the flow of ink. And that's really what calligraphy and painting is about. Controlling the flow of ink. This is the proper Chinese way of holding an ink brush. The Japanese have a different way of holding the brush. This is the Chinese way of holding the brush. Many, many years ago when I had the sort of fantasy that I was going to study calligraphy, it's basically like studying a musical instrument. So if you decide when you're an adult, and you decide I'm going to take up the violin . Well at some point you realize that might be a little too late for you. Especially if you're planning on a fine career as a soloist. If you didn't start before you're 12, forget it. Well, I discovered calligraphy is sort of working the same way. And one of the teachers I had said, well this is how she was taught. Basically her teacher would put a quail egg, a raw quail egg, in the palm of my hand. So you had to have enough tension to hold this raw egg in your hand while you're writing. And at the same time not be so tense that you crush the egg. So then also, you write horizontally. So the paper is laid out on a table. And the way you hold the brush is you would sit, or you could stand, but you don't rest your elbow or your arm on the table. Unless you're doing really close fine work. But basically you have enough control so that you can write like this. So when you're learning, you're seated. She said her teacher would put a book here. So that you've got this quail egg, she had this quail egg here and she had this book here, and she's trying to write. And it sort of reminded me of Catholic school experiences. But then I had another teacher who used the method where nothing was explained. And I think this is really important. And it gets to a lot what Henry is talking about, about tradition, about learning, about who you become, who you are. About patterns of models for your learning. Say for example, a grandmother or a parent or so on and so forth. So this teacher, what he did was, he took the brush. There were three of us studying. He took the brush, and he didn't explain anything. He took the brush and he put it in your hand. And then he formed your fingers around the brush. And then he held on to your hand, dipped the brush tip in the ink, and then on cheap paper we were just doing the horizontal brush stroke. And he would just do several of them. And he would go to the next student. And he'd come back, grab you hand. And he just kept going around and around that way. And then he'd sort of watch. and he'd watch me do this, you need more li, li, li. Strength, strength, strength. OK, OK, OK. So this was a continuous process of no explanation, but direct hands-on transmission of a whole rhythm of practice. And that's really crucial to understand what calligraphy and what Chinese painting are all about. Is this extraordinary practice in which you learn by modeling. And then you habituate in yourself this discipline and structure. And then ultimately, as you keep practicing over and over, and you just get better and better at it. You might think of this in moral terms, as a kind of moral practice. Because actually what does happen later on in the history of Chinese art is that there's an almost ethical character, an ethical imperative, to the way in which you practice and the appropriateness about your practice as an artist. OK so we have the implements, brush, ink, ink stone, so on and so forth. And then, when you're going to write a Chinese character, depending upon the style. So we have seal script, we have clerical script, and we have regular script. These are the eight basic brush strokes for writing the standard form, kaishu, regular script. If you're going to learn how to write, not talking about calligraphy, just learning how to write in the regular script, kaishu, these are the eight brush strokes you use. Use only these eight. And use eight in these form. You don't invent your own, so to speak. And each of the eight brush strokes has its own rhythm, it's own gesture, its own performative practice. So this is just one. This is one of the basic ones that you learn when you're starting to learn how to write. It's a horizontal brush stroke called a heng. And this is an image I've excerpted from another text, which is excerpting a modern Chinese calligraphy text. Because this is not a traditional way of understanding the practice of writing or the practice of calligraphy. They diagram it out to create a grammar of the basic brush strokes. That's kind of an appropriation of a modern technique of learning a kind of language. You create a grammar, and the grammar of these gestures. So that's what all these-- within the brush strokes, the circles, the dots, and the arrows here are this kind of grammar composed by a modern Chinese calligrapher who has published it in a textbook. So how does this work? So if we're going to do this horizontal brush stroke, it's not simply a matter of, OK I've got ink in my brush, I want to make this brush stroke, It's going to be this so I just plop the brush down, and then I just go across and I lift the brush up. When you watch somebody writing, it looks like that. But what actually goes into that spontaneous gesture is parsed out here in a particular style. This is also a particular style. So we start off there. That's where you begin. And you notice there's a little bit of a hook there, because the initial movement you make with the brush tip is actually at an angle. So you go up and you go down. And that's what this is. You're actually going up and you're coming back down. And in this particular style you're coming down with a slight curve, and so you get this curved edge here. And so you're making, as you come down, a counterclockwise motion. The double circle here means stop. Come to a brief full stop. And push downward pressure, put downward pressure on the tip of the brush, which releases the flow of ink. And so you get this nice bulge here. But you pause because you are making a transition. The pause is a moment of readjustment. It's a nanosecond, this instant, where you are readjusting because you're going from one direction, one rhythm and tempo, to another one. So after you make your pause, you are going to draw the tip of the brush stroke. And so the arrow there indicates the pattern and the direction of the tip of the brush following the handle. So the tip of the brush actually moves up at a slight curving angle. If you see this pattern. And then when you get to the middle, you'll notice the middle a slightly thinner than the ends of the brush strokes. Because as you're moving the tip of the brush towards the center, you're also slowly lifting up the tip of the brush, releasing pressure, withdrawing the flow of ink so it gets thinner. And then when you get to what should be the middle, you start to put downward pressure back on it, increasing the flow of ink. And then the brush stroke starts to get thicker. But then as we approach the end, we have to prepare for the end, so this circle means a hesitation. Not necessarily a double circle full stop, but a hesitation as you prepare yourself for another transition. And the transitions are really important. So we're going to be changing direction, changing rhythm, changing our tempo. So this is getting ready. And then the black dot here tells us stop. Because we're going to make a 90, eventually 180 degree shift. So it means stop. It also means put downward pressure on the tip of the brush, allowing ink to flow so you get this nice thick bulge again. And now we are going to pull down with the tip of the brush. We're going to come to another stop here at the circle. We're also making a clockwise change of direction. So we start off at this end, the beginning end, and we are actually moving counterclockwise. When we come to the end here, we're actually going to go clockwise. A complementary reversal. So this last white circle means stop. And it also means put downward pressure on the tip of the brush. And you allow the ink to flow and we this nice bulge here. And then to finish, you slowly pull the brush tip back in towards the center and then you pull up, so you lift the brush tip off of the paper, or off of the silk. That's how you do the heng in this particular style. And so you could practice that over and over and over again. And this teacher I had would never explain anything. He'd just hold your hand and you keep doing it and keep doing it until you master this whole pattern. All right, now if that isn't enough, you've got the eight basic brush strokes. Each brush stroke has its own gesture, or world of gestures. Then you're going to write a character. So each character has its own order of the brush strokes. So you can't write the character in any particular fashion you want. So this particular character up here, yong, forever. Start there. One, two, three, four, five. That's it. Always that way. And if you're learning this, it becomes part of your rhythm. And so, I'm not native to this, having studied Chinese, I can look at these instantly and tell you how many brush strokes and tell you where you start and that sort of thing. And sometimes you forget. Somebody will say, how do you write that? And you can't quite remember. The interesting thing is, I've noticed the Chinese do this, as well as those of us who are students of Chinese, you start to move your hands. Do you visualize it? No, no, no. You start moving your hands. And you hope basically that the muscle memory is going to kick in and you remember the rest of the strokes. That's how it works. And if you're lucky, it works that way. And I've had the gratifying experience of having well-educated graduate school studied Chinese who will forget. They've been in this country a little too long. Well how do you write that? And they'll start. They can't remember, and then I feel really good. I don't feel like such a dummy. All right. So some of the different forms. Let me quickly show you some different examples of different ways of writing Chinese. This is the Bronze Age inscription. So this is actually an ink rubbing with a modern transcription of the Chinese characters. And so we can actually date this particular inscription to the basically the week after the Zhou dynasty conquest of the Shang. That's basically pretty much what it says here. And so it's circa 11th century BCE, in the middle of the 11th century BCE. And this is the vessel from which this inscription was taken. And it's a commemorative kind of inscription. And so that's what the Bronze Age writing looked like. That becomes seal script. This is actually what's called the Yishan tablet. And if you're an art historian, this is really typical. Standardization of the characters, the writing system by the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang Ti. But it's an ink rubbing of a 10th century stone tablet, which is a copy of a third century BC original. But in any case, this is thought to be an example of what happens to that Bronze Age writing. Which you can see now is very tidily done. The character sit in nice squares, they're organized along tidy columns and rows. And this is thought to be what the regularization, the early standardization, of the Chinese writing system looked like. Here's an example of a 14th century calligrapher and painter, Zhao Mengfu, writing a title page for a scroll. It's a record of a temple. And Zhao Mengfu is the name of the artist. And so this form of writing continues on as a particularly informal writing for title pages, for tablet inscriptions, the names of tablets and so on. The grid that you see here is also an aspect of it's formality. Then this sort of writing, this style of writing, is used for imperial documents. And carved into seals for imperial documents. And so this, until the modern period, is still the style of Chinese writing that is used for official government documents. Artists will now carve their own seals using this particular style of writing. There are also now computer programs. If you want to have a seal made, you just put in the characters and the computer program will generate the pattern. Which is then plugged into a machine that grinds it out. This is an example of 14th century Zhao Mengfu's seals. These are excerpted from pieces of calligraphy and some paintings done by him. And they're basically his name. You'll see seals on some of the paintings and examples of calligraphy that I show you. These are marks of ownership. They are basically the signatures of artists. Collectors in later generations who own something will oftentimes put their seals. When a piece enters into the Imperial collection, the emperor will put seals on it. So they do mark ownership. But beyond marking ownership, I see them as signs of participation. A work of art is always a living work of art. That is to say, it is an occasion, in a sense triggered by the work of the artist, that can carry on. Occasionally can carry on for generations in which others, through the practice of viewing and the practice of writing inscriptions and adding seals, they can add to it. They can consider themselves as participants in the affirmation, reaffirmation, and the creation anew of something that is alive. A living tradition. The regular script. So some examples of regular script. Here's a 7th century example in an ink rubbing from the Tang Dynasty. [CHINESE] dynasty. So this is a little bit more what one would recognize as the typical Chinese, standard Chinese writing. And I just wanted to show you this in comparison with this example from the 8th century. And so we have really different approaches. And I'm showing you this to give you a dramatic visual sense that, well given that you have all this mastery of patterns. The eight brush strokes, the individual brush strokes, the stroke order and number, that there is plenty of room for variety. If you look at people's signatures, they are all different. Just as different as ours are. So if we go back. Look at that very fine, thing, elegant lines. Different sense of proportions. And then [CHINESE], really known for his really blunt straightforward unmannered kind of approach. And then in later times, in the Song dynasty, they upheld [CHINESE] as a kind of Confucian martyr and hero. And they would say that that shows up in his calligraphy. Cursive script. I'm showing you a particularly dramatic form of cursive script. Sometimes called wild cursive script, that is thought to be by an 8th century monk, Buddhist monk. Although the authenticity is open to some debate. But he's known to prefer to write when he's a little inebriated. And there's some idea of that here. It is legible. Not by me. Just to give you an example. One of the ways in which calligraphy is preserved and transmitted is through engraving on stones. A lot of the famous pieces that I showed, as you can see, are preserved in stone engravings and are transmitted by making ink rubbings. And this goes back for centuries in Chinese history. And so one wonders, how accurate can a stone engraving be of something that is so fluently written? Well here's an example. This is actually from that eighth century example by Huai Su. And then here's an ink rubbing from a stone engraving after the original. And that's pretty good. We don't have time to do this comparison, but I just wanted to point out that there are a lot of copies. There are tracing copies of original pieces. The sort of outline tracing and then you fill in. There are also free hand copies. Copies are not necessarily intended to be forgeries or fakes. Sometimes they are, but oftentimes they're not. Quite often they're pedagogical exercises. I'm often asked, in the context of Chinese traditional painting, isn't it the goal of the artist to imitate the old masters and you copy the old masters. And I say, well no. That's not really the goal. In fact the Chinese art writers would say that's not what you're supposed to do. The whole point, if we want to use the modern word traditional. The whole point of being traditional is you have to see something new. That's what it means to be traditional, is you're always seeing something new. I'll talk about that a little bit more. So this is actually a rare freehand copy of this. So this is actually the original. I do this in classes and it's a lot of fun because students, art students, they go in to this debate. And a lot of them, we do a straw poll, most of them go for this one as the original. Because look at this stroke, look at that stroke. So it's a measure of quality and so on and so forth. But then there are usually, almost always, no I'd say always. Every time I've done this comparison in class, there are two or three students who say, you know, that may well be. But when I look at the overall and I look at the relationship of the brush strokes. This is better. The rest of the class, is this Huang Tingjian, 11th century? Oh yes. And then three students stick to their guns and say that's it. And then the three students are vindicated. Because they say, well this is the original. That's the original. And this is a detail here. When you actually see the context, things start to change. In fact when I show this slide in relationship to this one, then the rest of the class, they can see the difference. They say, oh now it makes more sense. When you abstract something out, it doesn't make any sense. Everything is alive in this context. Everything is somehow interdependently related to each other. And that's really the idea here. First of all, it historically involves 11th century tastes and such, but it's really the reason why this is Huang Tingjian is, what's the difference? This is flat, lifeless. If you look at this combination of three brush strokes, one, two, three. And this guy's no slouch, by the way. Freehand copy. This is a really skillful hand. But there is no real energy between and among the strokes. When you look here there is something alive in them. And also between the characters, nice even spacing that pretty much isolates them. But the whole point is that everything is connected together. And the most important part of the brush work is what's in between the brush work. The real life of brush work is the relationship among the brush work. The space in between has to be full of life. And so the goal that's often stated in almost cliched fashion is that, you want this chi, you want this energy, you want this vitality in your work. But the vitality ultimately is not some sort of abstract, external, spiritual, cosmic energy that is informing this that you're trying to refer to, or you're trying to capture. You live it out. You're practicing it. And so the idea is that to get to this, is that it happens because you are living it. And so that the rhythm of the brush becomes really crucial in your practice because it is the actual rhythm of your momentary performance. And in that momentary performance, you are actually living yourself out as a human being connected with other human beings. And you do that in the writing system and in calligraphy because you are mastering a rhythm that is shared by you, and your teachers, and your teachers' teachers. And by the way, it's not just the genealogy of masters. It's also the families and the friends of those masters. Their mastery is also part of their life as human beings connected with their own families, their clans, with members of their community. That's their rhythm. And so when you are studying with a master, such as this teacher who just held our hands, that's what you're getting on a very fundamental level. That becomes part of who you are. So if I had continued to study with this man, who by the way is a specialist in [CHINESE] at Taiwan National University, he would have become quite literally part of me. Because who I am is a performance. As a human being, I'm an event connected with all the other events of the world, other human beings as events. And that's natural. There's no-- as Henry was talking about, no autonomous free individuals. Were all sort of interconnected. And so there's no pure me that is separable from the rhythms of others. So I become who I am by virtue of inhabiting the rhythm of my teacher. Now proceeding on, let's move in to the modern period a little bit. Calligraphy and writing, in the contemporary realm in China, the Chinese are concerned-- and I have some other paintings after I talk about landscape painting-- the Chinese are concerned with lots of issues. The relationship of the present to the past, the relationship of China to the global world, what's going on in China with the rapid commercial acceleration and development and all that sort of thing. I just want to show you an artist who, this is his name, Xu Bing. He gained a great deal of notoriety in the late '80's in China as one of the experimental avant Garde artists. He eventually left China. He works out of New York. You see his pictures, he's got long hair and he wears black. He is the perfect sort of urbane New York art culture and art scene. And this is a work that I'm going to show you is, he's become really famous for. That was done in 1988 in China, for a Chinese audience. Not really thinking about that this is going to be an internationally renowned piece. And it has. And it's still something that is identified with him. And it still has showings. Which is unusual in the realm of contemporary art. I'm not sure that's a good thing. There's a bit of a double standard nowadays in the realm of contemporary art. If you are doing the same thing you were doing five years ago, you're not advancing, you're not changing, you're not growing. And so for the most part, you don't show the same work over and over again. Certainly not a work that dates to 1988. Well this installation still gets shows. That's another story altogether. But anyway, Xu Bing, working out of New York. This is called Book From the Sky. Tianshu. The name Tianshu has all kinds of other meanings. I'll get to that in a moment. This is an installation that I believe is the Elvehjem Museum in the University of Wisconsin Madison. And it involves three different kinds of text. And he grew up with educated parents, both of his parents were struggled against during the Cultural Revolution. He tells a story about standing on the street side with a friend of his and watching in the distance some man being struggled against, only to discover that it was his father. His parents were intellectuals. He grew up in a world of books. He learns calligraphy. He read a great deal. And his art training was as a calligrapher, ultimately printmaking. He studied printmaking. But from the time he was young, he was interested in books and print culture. So in this pieces he is looking at writing and he is looking at printed media in three different forms. On the bottom, as you see in this installation. And this is actually an example of it, a smaller example of it, that was set up in the Sackler Museum in Washington, DC a few years ago. Let me go back to the large one. We have books here, which are hand sewn bound books, following traditional Chinese style. And the printed font also follows a Song Dynasty printed font style. The cover of the books you'll see are blue, which actually refers to texts primarily that are philosophical texts. Then we has several of these in rows, several rows, hundreds of them. Hanging from the ceiling are references to scroll texts. Which generally have associations with Buddhist texts and scriptures. But he has them draped, extended and draped from the ceiling. And then on the wall, more recent kind of reference to wall mounted text. Text, for example, like newspapers that we posted on walls so that the neighborhood can read them without subscribing and buying a newspaper. Many people couldn't afford to. Perhaps even a reference politically to the democracy wall. Some have suggested that. But anyway, a wall text. So three different forms of printed text. The installation at the Sackler in Washington, DC did not include the wall texts. It was a smaller space. So he has the books on the floor on a wooden platform. And then the scroll texts hanging from the ceiling. Here's another view of it. Here's a good view of what one of the open books look like. These are beautiful boxes. I've always wanted one. But if you've got $10,000 nowadays. He's a big deal. So at least $10,000 just to buy one. So forget it. It's probably more expensive now. Anyway so it's in Chinese style, so what would be for us the back end is opened up, but this is actually the title page. They're beautifully done. And this is a detail from this kind of text. But what's interesting about this is to actually, for me, watch Chinese. For, example, in the Sackler Museum, the Chinese would go there and they look at this thing and they would puzzle over it. Because the Chinese can't read this either. The context for this piece really was China. Because the moment of realization happens if you can read Chinese. Only to realize that you can't read anything that he's published. But if you don't read Chinese, well you can't read it anyway. And you don't know. But what he does is, he takes the whole, the sort of inherent, the disciplined structure of the practice of writing and the making of Chinese characters. And he sort of empties them of their standard meaning. But there's some of them are funny. This is three people chasing a mouth. And these are four selves. And so he invented several thousand non-existent Chinese characters. Although somebody went through the painstaking research to find that there are actually two, at least two inadvertent characters that do sort of exist. I thought why would somebody want to go through that painstaking research to just discover that. Anyway, so here he is at work, inventing fake Chinese characters. I heard him give a talk on this piece. What was it like? You working all by yourself in the late '80s. Because actually when he redid the piece in the early '90s in Wisconsin, he had assistants. And they redid the additions and all that sort of thing. But he was just by himself. He said, I found it very relaxing. So he'd sit there, invent Chinese characters, and they were also then carved into movable type. Which existed early on in China, but then the Chinese decided, This this doesn't make any sense, so let's just carve straightforward wood blocks for each page. But anyway, so movable type. And this is what the typeset looked like. So you can see, this is why artists call it work. But then he also cites that when he was sent down to the countryside to work with the peasants, one of the things that he was asked to do by the peasants, most of whom were illiterate. One of things he did as an artist was put out a publication of local peasant news and that sort of thing. It had illustrations in it. But they would also call him on him to do these traditional good luck characters for things like the Chinese New Year celebration and whatnot. This is an example of that kind of thing. It's a playful sort of thing that is a combination of these four characters, [CHINESE]. Something like summoning wealth and coming into close proximity and bringing in treasures. So it's a good wish for prosperity. But what it is, you combine all four into a single good luck auspicious character, which you would post on your door. And so if you look here, this is zhao, so that's here. [CHINESE], which is here. And then jin, which is here. And then this character, this is the top part is up here. And then this part, which is actually a pictograph of a cowrie shell. Which you've got here. Which also is there. So this is a clever combination of these characters. Here's another example. Huang jin wan liang. Which is 10,000 tails or units of gold. So here's liang down here. And 10,000 is the combination of this with this down here. Here's jin, metal right down here. And then wan, yellow. And then these two pieces perhaps. But anyway, so you get the idea. So this is traditional in China. So this is part of the inspiration for him to do this play on writing. Tianshu, by the way, Book from the Sky, has a reference to heavenly or celestial writings that would come down and needed to be interpreted by diviners. So it was basically nonsense that needed interpretation. His more recent work, after he moves to the United States, his work starts to change. It becomes much more about cross-cultural communication. Cross-culture interaction. And so it's a different context. So his work starts to change. And he comes up with something called Square Word Calligraphy. And here you have a slide that shows a student here at a desk, practicing using a copybook, following from what is a common sort of publication that you find in Chinese bookstores, in the art section for people who want to practice calligraphy and study calligraphy. They'll buy these books that have reproductions of ink rubbings of famous pieces. And with instructions, and basically you can copy them. Either on prepared practice paper or on blank sheets of paper with grid lines and so on. And so we have Square Word Calligraphy. Here's a close-up view. But the interesting thing about Square Word Calligraphy is the Chinese can't read it either. In fact, you guys can read it. Because it says, L,I,T,T,L,E. Little Bo Peep. Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and so on. And it is actually also a style of writing. It's clerical script writing. So there's a lot of play in it. And it's a way of using play and humor to try to bring in his American audience into the practice, what it is like. And as he puts it, basically to demystify the Chinese language and Chinese writing system for Americans and for other Westerners. He also has software. This came from a project called What is Your Surname, Please. And basically, I suspect there was a take off of-- sometimes you have Chinatown festivals and they say, well just give me your name and we'll compose it into Chinese characters. And I think that might have been an inspiration for the software project, where you can put in your name and it converts it into Square Word Calligraphy. And so they have this set up also at the Sackler Museum. And then this is the name of actually a little African-American girl who is playing around with this computer. And her name is [? Oesha. ?] So you come up with rather strange looking Chinese characters. At the Sackler, they had set up a whole classroom, the Square Word Calligraphy classroom. He's actually been invited by museum education departments around the country to actually do this. In fact when I was visiting here, they actually had a staff from museum education there to greet families. A lot of families would come here with their kids. And also individual adult members would come in here. And they could actually sit down at these desks and start practicing Square Word Calligraphy. And so he has two television monitors that are going with videotaped presentation of some of the techniques and whatnot. He has on the blackboard some basic instructions. And this is all in Square World Calligraphy, so if you want to take the time, you can actually read it. This poor man was trying to pretend and be natural, knowing that I was taking his picture. And then here's the board. This is the only known self portrait of Xu Bing, showing how to hold the brush and the names of the basic brush strokes and so on. And then he also had on display ink rubbings mounted in accordion album fashion of Square Word Calligraphy. and the ink rubbings were made from stone tablets, which he had engraved. Grade. Which follows also Chinese traditions of stone inscriptions, inscriptions on stone tablets. And then he had these wall hangings of scrolls of texts there, in Square Word Calligraphy, which he had written in clerical script style. This text happens to be quotations from Chairman Mao's Little Red Book, painstakingly done. Then he also had on display there what were called wordscapes. This is kind of interesting. And so these are landscapes. This is part of a projects where he was commissioned, along with a number of other artists, to go to Tibet and then do projects. Whatever they wanted to do. And he took a sketchbook and he went out and did landscapes. But he did them as wordscapes. So instead of representing in brush strokes, he actually wrote down, using old forms of Chinese characters, what was there. So various kinds of trees, all forms of trees and whatnot. Here's a detail of that. So trees. Mountains over here, small mountains. And we have some of the characters, he'll have rocks-- [CHINESE] rocks-- or pass would be [CHINESE] and so on. This is a bit of a play on the literati tradition of painting, where the literati saw their paintings as also a form of writing. They really try to marry poetry to their painting. So painting was scene as poetry, and poetry was seen as painting. And so some of them would actually sign their works by saying, not painted by, they would say, written by so and so. So I can show you an example of a literati painting. Though it's not signed as written by so and so. But this is a sort of example of a kind of art that was done in the early 14th century. It's dated 1306. The literati work in the 14th century, that's where the data is. The artist inscription includes the date. I put a translation here, by James Cahill, of the artist inscription, which is there. I won't have time to go over it. And then the magic of Photoshop, I can show you what the painting looked like without the added seals. In the 14th century, after it was written. Also this is a contemporary. This is not the artist inscription, but a contemporary of his added this. This is what the painting looked like. And then this is what we have now. So Xu Bing is making a reference to this literati tradition. And a lot of hi work is making references to techniques of the past. He made rubbings, ink rubbings, of a section of the Great Wall of China and so on. This is a Chinese equivalent of the Webster dictionary definition of bird. So this is all mounted on a board which is on the floor at the exhibition at the Sackler. And so we have Niao, which is bird. And the definition of bird. Warm blooded, they reproduce by laying eggs and so on. And then he has here the most recent Chinese form of the character, which is the simplified form of the character. Which then slowly rises up, changes color, and then we have from the simplified form, we go to the kaishu form, the regular script form. Which then turns color again, which turns into the clerical script form up here. And then from the clerical script form, we go to the Bronze Age pictographic form. And these birds soar up to the sky. It is really quite a beautiful piece. I was able to get these pictures because this is a special exhibition. Normally museums do not allow you to photograph special exhibitions. But this one actually had a sign that said, you are welcome to photograph the art work. So the idea is, that one of the things that Xu Bing himself says-- whether we want to buy into it or not, I don't know. But anyway, he said he was sent down to the countryside and that was a positively transforming experience for him. Imagine well-educated urban youth going into the countryside. It's not like us, say me, going from Chicago to an Iowa farm. You go to the countryside, maybe no running water, no toilets outside, maybe electricity, maybe not electricity. So this is quite a shock for somebody like Xu Bing. But he committed himself, so he says anyway, to working there and working with the peasants. And the impact that had later on as an artist, coming in to New York was that, he saw the idea that art should serve the people. And he says this is really what his work is about. It's educational. He hopes it will break down some of the seemingly permanent barriers that keep us from a fruitful cross-cultural understanding and communication. And he does it through his work. One of the, I guess eye opening things for me, experiences for me, was actually meeting artists who are working in a modernized traditional vein who are actually friends with these experimental artists. In Shanghai once, we had this big dinner thrown by one of the [CHINESE], one of the experimental artists, inviting all his friends and inviting a bunch of us. And he shelled out. And so you had the complete mixture of those artists who identify with the tradition, but in dramatically transformed practice. And then the radicals. And they were all talking about the same issues, and they friends. Now this is not always true in the Academy's. They can separate the traditionals from the moderns. But here you have a number of young artists and they were concerned with what's happening in China. And going about dealing with that in different ways. And they respected each other for that. And they were close. I have to say that at my institution, you don't necessary see that sort of nice relationship between people who are all supposedly contemporary and experimental. The lore about the emergence of writing and painting is that writing and painting emerged together. And it is true the encounter, a sort of a special event encounter between charismatic sages of the past and the world around. We might say the sky, the earth, and whatnot. Or things coming out of a river. And the way I interpret the lore. For example, [CHINESE] who has four eyes, he looks up to the sky, he sees the patterns of the heavenly bodies. He looks down to the earth, he sees the patterns of the tracks of beasts and birds. And then he comes up with writing and painting. The way we normally would think of that is that, well he invents it. Inspired by this, he is inspired to invent culture. What it is is that the graphic patterns that become the brush marks, shall we say, for writing and painting are actually the marking out of the creative rhythm of the event of his encounter or participation in the unfolding of the world. And understanding, where he gets insight, is that there is an understanding of the meaning of that participation and how that works. It's rhythm. He realizes it's rhythm, gains insight that is in fact extraordinary rhythm, this relationship. And then that gets traced out. And so writing is, in a sense, the most, shall we say, rarefied expression. A realization of that rhythmic participation in the creation that is the world. The event of the world. I guess I would say something along those lines. You have calligraphy is this phenomenon that is art. Then there's writing, and publication. So while they overlap, it doesn't mean that calligraphy, as an aesthetic practice is, as far as I can tell, diminished. A lot of poetry is memorized and sung, or chanted. Yes and then reading the poem is also a different sort of experience. And I think they're complementary. Because reading them, I mean while I was saying that most Chinese characters are not pictographs, there is still this visual element that comes into play in the many worlds of meanings for each word. Which is part of poetry. So there is a poetry that's oral, there's a poetry that's recited, it's memorized. But there's a poetry that you read. But they overlap in meaning. Yes and no. I'm not quite sure because Xu Bing himself more recently has played down the notion that his work was politically inspired. And certainly in his other work more recently since then has been towards more universal kinds of human forms of expression and ideas. Moving away from the political. That could be a response to the fact that most contemporary Chinese artists who get international recognition now, they're shown in the Venice Biennales and what not, are read politically. This is a complaint actually, from some students I have. Is that you want to be just a contemporary artist, but I get read as a Chinese contemporary artist. And that China is defined primarily from the point of view, by Western curators and some Chinese curators working in the West, as being this political issue. Or a world of political issues. So he might be responding to that and changing his tenor. I've heard that reading too about his work. And I think that's a possibility. He's very, much like Jasper Johns when you ask him question, he gives you the straight answer that seems to be the straight answer, but it's not really quite a straight answer. And so he says something that sounds so straightforward and you realize, wait a minute, does he really mean that. Is this really what his work is about. So I don't know the answer to that question. I suspect that maybe he works on multiple levels. That it can, and it would have this-- particularly it's done for a Chinese audience in 1988. It's become something else since then. In other words, if you don't get the punchline, because we don't read Chinese let's say, then in a sense the piece fails. And he says that doesn't really matter. Well I think that's disingenuous. I think it does matter. And I do think given its origins, the context of its origins, that it is political. But I think it also goes beyond that. And he wants it to go beyond that now. Chinese landscape painting in the 10th and 11th centuries. Start out with something that's not Chinese. Something that belongs to the artist in Chicago. J.M.W. Turner's-- when I started studying Chinese art, when I went to the University of Chicago, I was going to do a doctorate in art history. I wasn't studying anything Chinese. This is the stuff I was interested in. I was interested in this kind of early 19th century, transformation to Europe, Industrial Revolution, that kind of stuff. But then I took a class with Harrie Vanderstappen. I have never heard anyone talk about art in the way he did. It was an extraordinary experience. And so that's how I switched my second year of graduate school. It's a long story. Anyway so, why do I bring this up? Because well, we have landscape. So we think Chinese landscape painting, and Chinese landscape painting is often compared to somebody like Turner, but they really are of different worlds. But it's also-- Turner you have the world, the sublime, you have the Industrial Revolution. Why does nature become, why does landscape painting become an important subject matter for painters in Europe when it does? You have 17th century in the Netherlands. And you have the Netherlands mercantile industry and commercial growth and colonization and so forth. But when you get to the late 18th century into the 19th century. The sublime landscape, you have Constable, you have Turner and so on. The Industrial Revolution and changes in what's going on, radical changes in Europe. I've actually just recently talked about this with some of my graduate students, about Orientalism, the search for origins, the quest for oneness with nature, feelings of loss, of distance from the primitive, one's primitive origins. And the primitive being connected with the primal forces, the sublime forces of nature. And you've got all of this in Turner. Think about this painting. Val d'Aosta: Snowstorm, Avalanche, and Thunderstorm. Not one thing is enough, he's got to have all three rolled together. And then you have these people in the lower right hand corner running for their lives. So when you see Chinese landscape paintings from the 10th and 11th centurites, people say, well the people are so small, the mountains are so big. And so we think this. The human beings' smallness in the face of the sublime awesome power of nature. And that doesn't figure at all into the Chinese discourse of nature and painting. [CHINESE] in the 11th century, 11th century landscaper, he's teaching his son how to paint. He says, mountains are really big things. So you want to make your people small enough, because when people are too big, the mountains won't look big anymore. So it's a matter of practical realization. All right, so Turner. I just had a couple of quotations, because I just love reading this stuff to classes. This is Ruskin, John Ruskin on Turner. "No doubt can, I think, be reasonably entertained as to the utter inutility of all that has hitherto been accomplished by painters of landscape. No moral end has been answered, no permanent good affected by any of their works. Landscape art has never taught us one deep or holy lesson. It has not recorded that which is fleeting, nor penetrated that which was hidden, nor interpreted that which was obscure. It has never made us feel the wonder, nor the power, nor the glory of the universe." He could be writing now. "That which ought to have been a witness to the omnipotence of God has become an exhibition of the dexterity of man." OK so, then what does he have to say about Turner? Turner, on the other hand, "He stands upon an eminence from which he looks back over the universe of God, and forward over the generations of men. Let every work of his hand be a history of the one, and a lesson to the other. Let each exertion of his mighty mind be both hymn and prophecy, adoration to the Deity, revelation to mankind." Ruskin is a particularly sort of unique expression of something that's going on, but to see God in Turner. And this is what a lot of art in the modern period, say 19th century into the 20th century, is driven by. A desire to have an image that refers to, alludes to, or tries to commune with whatever you want to call it. The absolute, with deity, with God, with some sort of timeless essential truth. That for Turner and Constable is in nature, into your observations of nature. Truth is going to be found in nature. And it's going to be found in the drama of nature. And that truth is ultimately going to transcend that drama, and transcend the drama of human time and do something that's timeless and eternal. Which is a familiar story. Monet. We talked about, but we didn't write about what he was doing. He said it would be great if he could be blind and suddenly be able to see and be able to paint just impressions. To paint like a child. For Monet and his Impressionist colleagues, truth is in light and color. Not in the conventions you learn from the painting academy. So you reject convention, because convention is a fetter. It binds you to an artificially learned way of seeing. Forget that, that's not a natural way of seeing. It's not an immediate way of seeing. You just have to see like the child, like the primitive, immediately. So there's a desire to break off any kind of mediating effect the separates you from truth. And you can get that truth, interestingly, through visual perception. And that visual perception is seeing light. Interesting that it's light, which is such a powerful metaphor in Western culture, and color. But nevertheless, it's after a more immediate, truer realization of truth. So this is not truth thought, the painting is not truth. But it gets at, it refers to. It's a desire to commune with this timeless truth. Kandinsky, we push Kandinsky into the early 20th century abstraction. Which by the way, Kandinsky was also a landscape painter. So even some references to forms that suggest elements out of nature. 1913, Improvisation number 30. What does Kandinsky say about what he's doing? "The absolute is not to be sought in the form. The form is almost bound in time. It is relative, since it is nothing more than the means necessary today in which today's revelation manifests itself, resounds. The resonance is the soul of the form which can only come alive through the resonance, and which works from within to without. The form is the outer expression of inner content." So we're after the absolute. But it's not form itself. It's something beyond form. Because what's the problem with form? It's bound in time, and therefore it's relative. Chinese landscape painting isn't at all like this. There's a common sort of-- I've heard people say, well Chinese painting doesn't depict the world that you see. So it's like that. It's about a truth beyond the world that you see. And it's after a timeless truth. Somebody sounding like Kandinsky talking about Chinese painting. My argument is that Chinese painting isn't at all about something timeless. And that it doesn't make any sense to talk about the world of nature or the world of human being as being without time. And that actually the function of human being, the function of nature is of actually time itself. That's what we are, that's what nature is, we are all events. Continuous events, no boundaries, where we contribute in our eventfulness to the grander event of the world and the universe unfolding. And that the goal of painting, and the goal of calligraphy, is to realize the most appropriate participation and collaboration with others, including nature, in the making of that world. And so what become the underlying debate in Chinese art writing is not about questions of representation or reference to something beyond form. It is actually about how to perfect a practice that realizes the most appropriate participatory role for you as a contributor to life. And there's this element of this ethical imperative that comes in. You get it right. You get it right not because your picture is better. Yes your picture is better, because what it does is it offers an occasion for others, as well as yourself, to share together in a collaborative project that is creatively renewing life. Basic formats for Chinese paintings, this is a diagram that shows some. I have diagrams for this. This is a hand scroll, hanging scroll. This is the traditional Chinese fan painting, which is a circular kind of fan mounted on a stick. The folding fan is an import into China that comes from Korea and comes from Japan. Much later, it was during the Ming dynasty. And we have other sorts of intimate formats, which is what we call albums. Where you have an image accompanied perhaps by a poetic inscription, mounted on a board that folds up. And you make sets of these, perhaps a set of eight, for example. Or you can mount albums in an accordion fashion, as you see here. So small intimate formats of fan and album. We have the hanging scroll. The paintings I'm going to show you slides of, for the most part talking about 10th and 11th century landscape paintings, will be in this format, the hanging scroll format. And what you see here is the scroll image in black. This black rectangle indicates where the image is. The image is mounted on paper backing. By the way, we habitually say rice paper. Rice paper has nothing to do with rice. It's usually mulberry bark paper. We call it mulberry bark paper. So there are different kinds of materials used for making paper, but the most common one for paintings and mountings of paintings is mulberry bark paper. Anyway, so it's mounted on paper backing. And then all these parts that are numbered here are silk brocade that is also mounted on paper that's pasted together to frame the painting, so to speak. And the whole thing in the back is another sheet of paper. And then you have a roller at the bottom, which becomes the weight when you hang the painting. It keeps the painting straight. But also, it becomes the core of the scroll. Because you can roll this painting up. Hence it's called a hanging scroll format. Now the scroll format I think is important for us understand, because it has implications for the social meaning and practice of painting and the viewing of paintings. The scroll format is perfectly suited for occasional viewing. Changing paintings with the seasons or for the particular occasion. If you think of that Turner painting, which is about this big, mounted in a frame. Oil paintings, pretty much you leave them out. Unless you are really wealthy and you have huge storage capabilities. Because when you want to change the paintings you have to have help. Bring them all down, you put them in the garage or wherever. And then you put new paintings up. The European oil painting tradition is not about changing paintings for occasion. The Chinese scroll painting is, on the other hand, just about occasions. New Year's, put these paintings out. Well it's time to change the paintings. Roll them all up, put them on shelves, put them in a closet, there you go. You can put new paintings out. Even large ones. They vary in size. There's a pair of 16th century paintings I saw in the National Palace Museum in Taiwan, where the image itself is over nine feet. So imagine the whole scroll, the pair of them. So those are unusual, but they exist. So here's an example of a small hanging scroll. It's a Chinese painting, by the way, but it belongs to a Japanese temple. It's part of a subtemple of the [CHINESE], a 13th century painter. But to show you how one might look in situ, at least in a Japanese temple complex. The hand scroll. The same sort of idea, where you have the main image that's mounted on paper and then it's framed by various pieces of silk brocade. And then also you can roll that up. If it's a horizontal format. And the beginning part is on the right side. So traditionally you write Chinese vertically in columns and you read from top down, top to bottom. And read from right to left. And so this edge is the beginning. So you might have a title page, or frontispiece. And then this would be the image, of perhaps a piece of calligraphy. And then you might have pieces of paper added to it for someone later to add inscriptions and [INAUDIBLE] and commentary. You can unroll this and here's a dowel that forms the core of the scroll when it's rolled up. Now when you view a hand scroll. Here's a small one in Cleveland Museum. This Is a small one. Some of them are really long. There are some Imperial 18th century hand scrolls where one scroll is 70 feet long. You view it a section at a time. Hand scrolls are never left out on display. If you go to a museum that has some of these things, they'll have cases where they can unroll long sections of them and leave them out on display. This is not how they were viewed. They were viewed only on occasion. Until they're viewed, they're stored away. And then when you want to look at them, you take them out and you unroll them. When you're finished, you roll them back up and you put them away. So purely for occasional viewing. And you would view them a section at a time, moving from the right to the left. And this is actually a very short image. But on the other hand, you would be moving. As you go through a long scroll, you go through one section and then you roll it up, and you move to the next section, and then you move to the next section. You see a section at a time at arm's length. And the typical scroll might be 12 inches from top to bottom, something like that. So you have small scrolls that are eight inches top to bottom, 12 inches. There's a monumental landscape scroll in Kansas City which is 18 inches. There are some Imperial scrolls, 18th century again, [CHINESE] emperor, where the image itself is taller than I am. That's not very intimate. But it's basically an intimate viewing format. Only two, at most three people, can view a scroll adequately at a time, a section at a time. So it's purely occasional, and it's for a really personal, intimate viewing with very close friends or relatives or whatnot. So I think that's important to note. The idea of-- when you're changing scrolls, and often when you're viewing them, on social occasions. These social occasions and holidays are, we can think of them as human correlates to the unfolding of the seasons. Chinese New Year's is a spring festival, so maybe you change the paintings. It's the human sociality being played out in correspondence and correlation to the unfolding of nature. So the scroll format is a human expression of that relationship. Of the collaborative relationship of human beings to nature. This is a scroll in its box. And then a couple of more imagines and then we'll take a break. There are also screens. A Chinese traditional screen is usually flat. So here's a painted screen showing a literary gathering in a garden. And then there are also mural paintings. I want to show you one example from the Buddhist cave shrines outside of Dunhuang in northwest China, in the Gobi Desert. And also murals decorate temples, Daoist temples, Buddhist temples.
B1 中級 米 Stanley Murashige at PCC Part 1 " Chinese Painting and Calligraphy....". (Stanley Murashige at PCC Part 1 "Chinese Painting and Calligraphy....") 74 2 Li Rose に公開 2021 年 01 月 14 日 シェア シェア 保存 報告 動画の中の単語