“...for although calligraphy does consist of written words, its meaning as art has never been restricted to the verbal meaning of the words...the notion of ideas or meaning being communicated in a nonverbal manner by calligraphy is presented by implication.” (Cai, 282)
Chinese characters are a mix pictograms and ideographs. The symbols are not only abstracted objects, but stand for processes and actions. Li argues that the reader perceives phenomena from the written form. Lines create sensations of movement, “like a melody in music, what one perceives in the lines is not a series of objects in space but rather an epoch in time.” (Li, 22) A brushstroke channels the strength and fluidity of the writer’s hand. Chinese words are a composite of lines that describe objects and ideas, and brushwork injects dynamism in the written form, elevating the words to the status of significant forms.
Landscape painting arranges motifs to create tension and induce the propensity for action. Motifs are literal representations: the viewer can easily anticipate cause and effect. When a person is beside a bridge this naturally suggests that he will cross it. In calligraphy, brush strokes are the motifs and tension is apparent within each stroke. There is a correlation between hand movement and the brush trace left on the page. Francois Jullien writes:
The Chinese art of calligraphy can be considered a prime example of dynamism at work within a configuration because, in the case of each ideogram copied, a particular gesture is converted into a form, just as a particular form is equally converted into a gesture. In this schema the figure produced and the movements producing it are equivalent. (Jullien, 78)
To create tension, the calligrapher must disrupt repeated movements. There exist precise rules in calligraphy. Each character is inscribed within and centered on an imaginary square. Unlike Western writing where movement is unidirectional from left to right, the Chinese calligrapher proceeds to build the character stroke by stroke within the imaginary square. The center of the square marks the axis of reflection, rotation and union. The calligrapher first locates the center, his initial strokes mark boundaries, follow by lines that are filled in to complete the character. One always begins from top to bottom and completes the left side before the right side. Not one move is repeated successively: a horizontal motion is followed by a vertical or diagonal motion. Every stroke begins and ends in the opposite way of its intended path. Tension is initiated by the constant alternation of brush movement. Calligraphy skillfully adjusts character composition, entry, follow-through and exiting of every stroke to appear poised for action.
Water never pools over calligraphy paper. The longer the brush remains still, the larger the ink blots. The faster the brush moves, the less ink is absorbed by the paper. Since every type of brush movement follows some semblance of a “pause-pull-pause” pattern, ink opacity varies within a line. These variations describe the duration, speed and pressure of the brush in motion. If a line of uniform width is considered one unit of time, changes in the distance between pauses, in line thickness, in ink opacity, and in the distance between strokes are rhythmic accents. Calligraphy skillfully modulates standard rhythms and speeds. Learning stroke order always precedes developing character recognition. Those versed in Chinese language can detect rhythm, speed, and timing in writing.
Although a good calligrapher has absolute mastery over his motor skills, there are several limiting factors that make every work unique. The calligrapher is forbidden to go back and alter a stroke, once made. The brush tip is soft; it is impossible to produce a uniform bead of ink across the paper. The paper is hand made; every sheet differs in thickness and absorbency. The calligrapher’s state of mind and the physical setting that surrounds him all affect the outcome of the finished work. Su Shi’s Treatise on calligraphy writes:
Furthermore, because one writes at a given time, circumstances will provide either discord or harmony. When there is harmony, the writing flows forth charmingly; when there is discord, it fades and scatters. (Su, 7)
Every line trace is specific to the immediate moment of its creation. With every stroke, the calligrapher imparts a mood or tone that reflects the physical and emotional circumstances surrounding the creation of the work. Chinese characters as significant forms, and has the ability of suggestion. Lines reflect the author’s joys and sorrows. A handscroll written by Dong Qichang in the Ming dynasty translates as follows:
In the third month of the guimao year, I was in Suzhou at the Cloud Shadow Mountain Studio. Outside my window it was raining, and I had nothing to do. My friends Fan Erfu, Wang Boming, and Zhao Mansheng dropped by to visit. We sampled some Tiger Hill tea and ground [some fresh] Korean ink. Then I tried out a new brush, writing with abandon and all quite at random. (Bai, 147)
The first section: “In the third month of the guimao year. I was in Suzhou at the Cloud Shadow Mountain Studio. Outside my window it was raining, and I had nothing to do. My friends Fan Erfu, Wang Boming, and Zhao Mansheng” is written in Tsing Shu. Tsing Shu is characterized by simplified characters and occasional linkages between strokes. The words in the passage are generally uniform in size and spacing. The line work follows a consistent range of thicknesses. Horizontal strokes are parallel to each other. Vertical lines maintain a sense of uprightness. In the second section: “dropped by to visit. We sampled some Tiger Hill tea and ground [some fresh] Korean ink. Then I tried out a new brush, writing,” all the characters are larger, and a few columns were filled by only one word. The author no longer follows the rules of periodic uniform spacing and every character is comprised of more loops and swirls. At times an entire column of characters is written with one continuous line. The third part reads: “with abandon and all quite at random.” All characters are reduced to gestures. The brush is dry, and each line is written with haste. Writing “with abandon” suggests the least of restraint in brush work, the freest use of paper space, and the least attention to character legibility. The transformations explained through the story complement the execution. While the handscroll is a record of an ordinary event, the gradual conversion of the lines imparts fresh imagery to the content. Another example is the story of Wang Xizhi’s masterpiece Lan Ting Shu (Orchid Pavilion Preface). In the spring of 353 A.D. Wang Xizhi, the sage of calligraphy and forty of his friends gathered at Lan Ting (Orchid Pavilion) near Shaoxing, a town just outside of Shanghai.
According to Wang Hsi-chih, the place was surrounded by lofty mountains and steep slopes, lush forests and bamboo groves, with a clear brook gushing through, giving reflections to the left and the right. It was a fine day in early Spring. The air was clear and the breeze was soft. After a few rounds of drinks, Wang His-chih composed an essay commemorating the occasion which he wrote down ‘on paper made of the silk cocoon with a brush made of mouse-whiskers.’ (Ch’en, 62)
The piece is praised for Wang’s skillful combination of power and variation. “The character δΉ‹ －zhi (a preposition, meaning ‘of’) appears twenty times but not two of them are identical” (Yen, 97) Lan Ting Shu was subsequently copied by numerous accomplished calligraphers. Wang himself has rewritten the piece several times. None were comparable to the original. Beautiful scenery, great company, joyous spirit, an experienced hand, all culminated in an instant surge of inspiration, evident in the form and arrangement of characters. The conditions could not be recreated. That is why the original is valued above all other versions.
Historic significance affects technical execution. A moment of inspiration can elevate the significance of technique. The essence of brilliant writing is control of timing. Rhythm is a measure of ruptures in a unit of time. Musical rhythms are written as beats within a section of time. Brush technique is also rhythmic. The general pattern is pause, pull, pause and repeat. Because calligraphy values honest reflection of good technique and no stroke is ever reworked; there is a transparency between the gesture and the resultant form. Dynamic exchange exists between the hand and the brush, between the brush and the paper, between one stroke and another, between ideogram and ideogram, between one unit of images and another.
The Chinese art of calligraphy can be considered a prime example of dynamism at work within a configuration because, in the case of each ideogram copied, a particular gesture is converted into a form, just as a particular form is equally converted into a gesture. In this schema the figure produced and the movements producing it are equivalent. (Jullien, 78)
To create tension, the calligrapher must disrupt repeated movements. There exist precise rules in calligraphy. Each character is inscribed within and centered on an imaginary square. Unlike Western writing where movement is unidirectional from left to right, the Chinese calligrapher proceeds to build the character stroke by stroke within the imaginary square. The center of the square marks the axis of reflection, rotation and union. The calligrapher first locates the center, his initial strokes mark boundaries, follow by lines that are filled in to complete the character. One always begins from top to bottom and completes the left side before the right side. Not one move is repeated successively: a horizontal motion is followed by a vertical or diagonal motion. Every stroke begins and ends in the opposite way of its intended path. Tension is initiated by the constant alternation of brush movement. Calligraphy skillfully adjusts character composition, entry, follow-through and exiting of every stroke to appear poised for action.
Water never pools over calligraphy paper. The longer the brush remains still, the larger the ink blots. The faster the brush moves, the less ink is absorbed by the paper. Since every type of brush movement follows some semblance of a “pause-pull-pause” pattern, ink opacity varies within a line. These variations describe the duration, speed and pressure of the brush in motion. If a line of uniform width is considered one unit of time, changes in the distance between pauses, in line thickness, in ink opacity, and in the distance between strokes are rhythmic accents. Calligraphy skillfully modulates standard rhythms and speeds. Learning stroke order always precedes developing character recognition. Those versed in Chinese language can detect rhythm, speed, and timing in writing.
Although a good calligrapher has absolute mastery over his motor skills, there are several limiting factors that make every work unique. The calligrapher is forbidden to go back and alter a stroke, once made. The brush tip is soft; it is impossible to produce a uniform bead of ink across the paper. The paper is hand made; every sheet differs in thickness and absorbency. The calligrapher’s state of mind and the physical setting that surrounds him all affect the outcome of the finished work. Su Shi’s Treatise on calligraphy writes:
Furthermore, because one writes at a given time, circumstances will provide either discord or harmony. When there is harmony, the writing flows forth charmingly; when there is discord, it fades and scatters. (Su, 7)
Every line trace is specific to the immediate moment of its creation. With every stroke, the calligrapher imparts a mood or tone that reflects the physical and emotional circumstances surrounding the creation of the work. Chinese characters as significant forms, and has the ability of suggestion. Lines reflect the author’s joys and sorrows. A handscroll written by Dong Qichang in the Ming dynasty translates as follows:
In the third month of the guimao year, I was in Suzhou at the Cloud Shadow Mountain Studio. Outside my window it was raining, and I had nothing to do. My friends Fan Erfu, Wang Boming, and Zhao Mansheng dropped by to visit. We sampled some Tiger Hill tea and ground [some fresh] Korean ink. Then I tried out a new brush, writing with abandon and all quite at random. (Bai, 147)
The first section: “In the third month of the guimao year. I was in Suzhou at the Cloud Shadow Mountain Studio. Outside my window it was raining, and I had nothing to do. My friends Fan Erfu, Wang Boming, and Zhao Mansheng” is written in Tsing Shu. Tsing Shu is characterized by simplified characters and occasional linkages between strokes. The words in the passage are generally uniform in size and spacing. The line work follows a consistent range of thicknesses. Horizontal strokes are parallel to each other. Vertical lines maintain a sense of uprightness. In the second section: “dropped by to visit. We sampled some Tiger Hill tea and ground [some fresh] Korean ink. Then I tried out a new brush, writing,” all the characters are larger, and a few columns were filled by only one word. The author no longer follows the rules of periodic uniform spacing and every character is comprised of more loops and swirls. At times an entire column of characters is written with one continuous line. The third part reads: “with abandon and all quite at random.” All characters are reduced to gestures. The brush is dry, and each line is written with haste. Writing “with abandon” suggests the least of restraint in brush work, the freest use of paper space, and the least attention to character legibility. The transformations explained through the story complement the execution. While the handscroll is a record of an ordinary event, the gradual conversion of the lines imparts fresh imagery to the content. Another example is the story of Wang Xizhi’s masterpiece Lan Ting Shu (Orchid Pavilion Preface). In the spring of 353 A.D. Wang Xizhi, the sage of calligraphy and forty of his friends gathered at Lan Ting (Orchid Pavilion) near Shaoxing, a town just outside of Shanghai.
According to Wang Hsi-chih, the place was surrounded by lofty mountains and steep slopes, lush forests and bamboo groves, with a clear brook gushing through, giving reflections to the left and the right. It was a fine day in early Spring. The air was clear and the breeze was soft. After a few rounds of drinks, Wang His-chih composed an essay commemorating the occasion which he wrote down ‘on paper made of the silk cocoon with a brush made of mouse-whiskers.’ (Ch’en, 62)
The piece is praised for Wang’s skillful combination of power and variation. “The character δΉ‹ －zhi (a preposition, meaning ‘of’) appears twenty times but not two of them are identical” (Yen, 97) Lan Ting Shu was subsequently copied by numerous accomplished calligraphers. Wang himself has rewritten the piece several times. None were comparable to the original. Beautiful scenery, great company, joyous spirit, an experienced hand, all culminated in an instant surge of inspiration, evident in the form and arrangement of characters. The conditions could not be recreated. That is why the original is valued above all other versions.
Historic significance affects technical execution. A moment of inspiration can elevate the significance of technique. The essence of brilliant writing is control of timing. Rhythm is a measure of ruptures in a unit of time. Musical rhythms are written as beats within a section of time. Brush technique is also rhythmic. The general pattern is pause, pull, pause and repeat. Because calligraphy values honest reflection of good technique and no stroke is ever reworked; there is a transparency between the gesture and the resultant form. Dynamic exchange exists between the hand and the brush, between the brush and the paper, between one stroke and another, between ideogram and ideogram, between one unit of images and another.
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