CHINESE BEAUTY,
by Kazimierz
Z. Poznanski
I grew up in Poland
in an artistic family but when the time arrived for me to decide on
my education I chose something very un-artistic – economics. Eventually
I became a university professor of economics in the United States where
I moved in 1980. But I always kept my connection with art, initially
mostly through collecting paintings only to quickly turn to painting
as an essential part of my life. The greatest impact on my artistic
life had a single discovery in 1992. About ten years ago, by sheer luck,
I discovered a completely forgotten Chinese-American modernist painter
Teng Hiok Chiu (1903-1972). Raised on Gulangyu Island, outside of Xiamen,
Chiu might easily be one of the best
oil painters of his generation of the first Western-trained Chinese
artists. In a recent interview Michale Sullivan, the foremost professor
of China’s art history from Oxford stated that Chiu is the best
Western-style, meaning using oil landscape painters of this early period.
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In 2004, I came
to Xiamen to visit Chiu’s hometown and discuss Chiu’s works
with local artists, who almost without any exception, were amazed by
this discovery. Very much the same has been the reaction by other artists
in such places like Beijing and Chengdu. I am amazed with this discovery
as much as my Chinese counterparts. To be frank, I neither had any real
understanding nor had I been interested in Chinese painting before I
found first Chiu’s. In fact, few Westerners have the courage to
cross the cultural barrier and to develop real appreciation for Chinese
painting. In addition, the people of the West people give even less
attention to Chinese oil painters than to the traditional painters working
in ink. It is generally assumed that Chinese artists using Western techniques
are just imitating instead of creating original art. However, I was
quite taken by the beauty and harmony of these first Chiu’s oil
paintings, without thinking whether they are original or not. The beauty
and harmony that I found in these paintings was more or less what would
draw me to other, non-Chinese works in my collection daring from more
or less same period. But from the very beginning I felt that there is
something that I like so much about Chiu’s works but have no way
of defining it. And this special quality of his paintings was quite
different to what I was used to see in Western artwork of his contemporaries.
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Eventually Chiu
made me first study Chinese art history from the books for me to get
an understanding of the traditional Chinese painting techniques. Unlike
most of collectors who simply enjoy paintings on their walls I also
wanted to think the way Chiu thought and to feel what he felt. Thus
I also became a careful student of Taoist and Confucian philosophy and
only then I began to appreciate the old ink scrolls. I soon also began
to really appreciate the incredible sophistication of Chinese art tradition.
Namely, that this art is about life, and that it is about life since
both philosophies behind it are about life. And that in these two philosophies
nature is life, and for this reason art is also about nature, specifically
about landscapes, not the views of some specific places but almost endless
panoramic vistas, since nature knows no limits. The nature, as understood
in both philosophies, is based on a moral order that holds together
in harmony two basic elements, yin and yang. In painting these two elements
are symbolized by water, a s a female yin, and mountains, or mail yang.
Teng Hiok Chiu was always aware of these philosophical roots of Chinese
painting and this is why, while focusing on landscape he also preferred
landscapes that bring water – river, sea, waterfall or mist –
and mountains together. And, when he was painting places outside of
China, where he spent two-third of his lifetime, they would be at least
in some way reminders of his native China, particularly Gulangyu Island.
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It is also Chiu
who made me go to China and it is the beauty of China, with its vast
plains, poetic ridges, ancient villages, blue roofs and lush greenery,
that made me even more interested in Chinese culture. Only then, with
the knowledge from the books and personal appreciation of the land of
China, I have fully realized that behind the Western visual of Chiu’s
paintings there is Chinese meaning and that it is this Chinese meaning
that makes his art so special. By the time I first visited China searching
for traces of Chiu’s life I already had a large group of black
and white charcoal drawings by myself, mainly large Chinese-style landscapes.
After seeing numerous scrolls, I was simply drawn into this world and
one day my hand switched away from what for years I used to do on paper
and instead it started drawing such Chinese-style landscapes. When in
2001, in Chengdu I showed my group of drawing to a local painter only
to be few days later invited to show all of them at the downtown Sichuan
Art Museum. At the opening of my exhibition I gathered a lot of comments,
including the opinion that my charcoal line is very Chinese, since it
is free handed and flowing line, and thus it is full of life. I easily
realized the significance of this comment, namely that while Chinese
traditional painting is all about life only this kind of line –
free handed and flowing – is reflective of life, with its continuity
and volatility.
The same painter
handed over to me three boxes of water-based Chinese paints, eleven
of his used brushes and hundred sheets of rice paper. All of this was
of course new to me and I had no idea how to use these unexpected gifts.
Since then I moved away from doing basically black and white Chinese-style
landscapes to focusing on color. This how, with the helping hand of
Chiu, I turned completely Chinese-style color landscapes and gave up
my earlier color landscape efforts. It was thus Chiu who made me a painter
that I am now, or more precisely it was him who helped me to discover
my special desires earlier than it would had happened otherwise. While
Chiu moved to the West to learn Western techniques to express Chinese
philosophy, he made me move to China to instill same Chinese meaning
to my Western art. He produced his own fusion of Western and Chinese
expression living in a foreign country away from his native land, same
way as myself, also an emigrant, similarly stretched between two cultures,
native and foreign one. Chiu left for the West because he felt that
his Chinese culture sets unacceptable limits on his creative drive,
while I have turned to China to rescue myself from within limits imposed
on me by the Western culture.
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One element of
Chinese tradition that Chiu was unable to abandon in his search, without
destroying himself, was the typical of Chinese tradition very happy
perspective on life – belief that life is a blessing and that
anybody can find real fulfillment by finding harmony with the rest of
nature – that makes some Westerns gladly embrace Chinese art tradition.
This is particularly the case with Westerners who independently develop
their own happy attitude towards life and striving for harmony in their
own life. It could well be that this is who I am and why I find it so
easy to identify with Chinese art tradition. This is why it is so easy
for me to follow in my art most of the principles of traditional Chinese
painting so helpful in delivering the philosophical message that we,
humans, are only small part of it. This is why, like Chiu, I prefer
to paint large-scale mountain and water landscapes, many from places
that I have visited in China myself. When I see some specific places
I never paint them the way they are but simply take a sketch. This sketch
is to register the
structure of the
place and not the detail, and when I try to copy my sketch I make some
changes, and when I eventually do my painting, I move away from the
sketch even more. So, at the end what is painted is a distant image
of the places I visited.
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My landscapes are
also made to capture the essence of nature, seen as a moral order, under
which no element alone – yin or yang – can create life;
for this they need each other and what brings them together is the highest
form of harmony – love. And, this is exactly the feeling that
my paintings contain, though I do not fill my paintings with love on
purpose – this comes to me naturally. Accordingly to the Chinese
tradition I use line as the basic element of constructing my paintings,
with flat areas within outlines. Also similar to Chinese tradition,
my paintings use a limited range of color but it is also true that I
never use black and white, but rather a combination of red and yellow,
or blue and green. I know that in Chinese tradition, black and white
are seen as the best reflection of the two elements – yin and
yang, but my alternative color combinations are to me the same symbols
of female yin and male yang. And this duality is also reflected in the
combination of two qualities of my paintings, namely that my landscapes
are at the same time soft and strong, or in other words -- mute and
passionate. And, unexceptionally, I only show the splendor and beauty
of nature, trying to take the viewer to the invisible, where the life
spirit resides, something that Chiu was so skillful about.
Surely, in many
ways my paintings depart from the Chinese tradition, not just because
I do not use black and white combinations. For instance, I am aware
that in the Chinese tradition it is the sign of greatness when a painter
touches the paper with brush only once. So, the artists train endlessly
to finally be able to use only one stroke to accomplish complete expression
of what they want to convey on paper. Myself, I usually use multiple
layers of paint and I go on correcting my lines many times. But when
I put the final touch, my feeling is, that it is very much the same
as the first – and final- touch by those who totally stick to
the Chinese canon. Anyway, whether it is the first touch that makes
your painting best or the last touch that that makes your painting best,
one needs to be able to reach real mastery to makes the painting look
– or mean – the best.
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I haven’t
received any regular professional training in Chinese art before and
there might be some mistakes in the way I use brush and paint, but I
don’t worry about that too much. The few sessions in the studios
of my Chinese friend artists have been very important to me but surely
not enough to substitute for a rigorous education. It is true, however,
that I have learned a lot about Chinese painting by living together
with Chiu’s art for so many years. Interestingly, this experience
of mine as a painter is not so different from a traditional Chinese
painter, called literati, who would collect art – old scrolls
– to study masters and who would learn painting this way on their
own without a real teacher. So, technically speaking a painter of this
sort would be an amateur, but still he could become a master for the
generations to come after.
But my feeling
is that with rigorous education or not, as long as I am able to grasp
the essence of Chinese traditional painting, the harmonious and happy
moral world it renders, my painting is truly a Chinese painting. And,
importantly, with this attitude, I can freely use whatever elements
of Chinese tradition I like most with any elements of Western-style
painting that I find useful to execute a particular painting. This way
I am able, I think, to be most creative and hopefully push the Chinese
art idiom forward to make it more modern, same way Chiu tried during
his lifetime. The greatest reward for my work with Chinese art tradition
is that my paintings are easily recognized by my Chinese friends for
their Chinese essence. I found it out, for instance, during my March
2004 individual exhibition at Xiamen Municipal Gallery at the Palace
of Culture. Or more recently when I showed my landscapes to an artists
from Chengdu who said to me that while my works look so much Western
they have all the distinctive characteristics of Chinese traditional
painting – they are peaceful, they take the viewers to a different
– outer – world and they are also high minded, or -- to
use other words – they are done in a high spirit of noble intentions.
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Given this reception,
it could be that one day my landscape paintings might find their way
to the mainstream of Chinese contemporary art, itself in search for
a new identity. There are two extremes in Chinese painting nowadays.
One is the younger generation of artists many of whom are trying to
literally copy from the most recent Western art works, which so often
are filled with anger, pessimism, obscenity and distraction. While exploring
this artistic venue, they are usually unconscious of losing the essence
of China’s traditional art heritage with its special moral message
– calling for acceptance, optimism, elegance and balance. The
other group is the one that follows the Chinese art tradition mainly
by carefully sticking to the old masters but this is not going to succeed
in preserving the essence of this art from the invasion of the Western-based
art. A very important curator of Chinese contemporary art from Hong
Kong, Johnson Chang, is one of those who want to preserve Chinese –
or rather Asian – art tradition, with its own charm and wisdom,
while catching with the rhythm of our modern times.
I also think that
one must find a way somewhere between these two mentioned above extremes
and Teng Hiok Chiu surely provides a perfect example for us of this
kind of approach. He successfully maintained his Chinese culture by
masterfully using Western means of expression. This is what I am trying
to accomplish by following his art but also by moving beyond it and
taking – as well-known art professor Wang Zhong from Beijing pointedly
remarked – a simpler, broader and more general approach. Whatever
the differences between Chiu and myself we share the same attitude that
doing art is a form of a mission and that a purpose of art is to display
the joy, the joy of life – when living follows the art of living
in harmony with the rest of the world.
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But art is also
about the working of the mind, since the visual harmony requires mental
discipline. Even if art is driven by a feeling of love, as it should
be, the mind has to find the bets way to convey your attitude. And,
what I have learned form my painting of Chinese landscapes done Chinese
way is that art requires very much the same skill as economics, namely
that in both cases you have to solve some equations. Even when you make
your first stroke it is not easy since you have to relate it to the
empty space of the whole piece of rice paper. And when you make your
second stroke you have to relate it to the previous one and the further
you go the more variables – stroke – you have to include
in your equations, and at the end this becomes almost an impossible
job to handle. And those who last till the end and find the final mathematical
solution are the best artists. It might well be that the reason the
traditional Chinese painter, the literati, had to be not only a collector
of art but also, or primarily, a scholar, a person with an adept mind,
is that painting is indeed about solving equations the way economists
do it. It is this concept
of painter, who
is also a scholar and a collector that should not be lost in the current
efforts to modernize Chinese art while preserving its centuries of refinement
and splendor.
Preserving is not
the Western approach but a Chinese approach. In Western culture the
focus is on change – experimentation – as a source of progress
in art or in other fields of human activity. But if a culture reaches
its best, refine form, with right philosophy of life and the right way
to express this way in art, what is there to change. Changing the best
possible, or near-perfect leads to regress – or even destruction.
And if China has already developed such refine culture there is really
no reason to change it but at best to make some modifications. Under
these conditions, it is lack of change, keeping in line with the tradition,
that is the only reasonable approach. And, one has to keep in mind that
it is easier to change than to keep things the old way. It could well
be that the greatest feature of Chinese Culture is its ability to do
the difficult thing – to keep things the traditional way and avoid
temptation of doing what is easy – reject the past and seek change.
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