“Time, given Life”
- an introduction for Westerners
to the appreciation of Oriental Calligraphy
by Mike Harty
[Calligraphy] is an art through which time is given life.
Moment by moment this living energy rides on a rhythm
that is due to remain in the writer’s images. …
[Calligraphy] becomes the expression of a person’s state of mind … conducted into the deeper aspects of artistic expression. 1
It is very true that, for most people with a European cultural background, the first encounter with a piece of Oriental calligraphy can be quite daunting. How do you start to ‘appreciate’ it? What criteria can you use to evaluate its merits or failings? What makes one line ‘strong’ and another ‘weak’? Why is one piece of calligraphy better than another?
Even though some of the obstacles may seem, at this stage, to be insurmountable, if you approach the viewing of Oriental calligraphy with an open mind and a receptive point of view, you will quickly attain a level of appreciation which will be rewarding and very enjoyable. Furthermore, you will find that an appreciation of Oriental calligraphy is essential to the finer appreciation of most Oriental art, because calligraphy embodies the absolute essence of Oriental aesthetics – the brushstroke.
Painting for the Chinese is a branch of handwriting. …
In distinguishing the quality of the painting we have to train ourselves
to be sensitive to the character of every brush-stroke, which in a master’s work
is alive – still giving out the life force put into it – to the very last blot. 2
While some people (even some of a western cultural background) are prepared to devote a lifetime of study to plumbing the depths of calligraphic subtlety, most people only ask for some guidance, some referents, upon which they can base their appreciation of the calligraphic works they see from time to time.
The rules of judgement are, in fact, quite different from the norms of western art. For example, a great deal of the European aesthetic is based on shapes and colours, form and perspective; whereas the Oriental aesthetic is much more involved with the interrelatedness of lines and spaces. But any perplexity we might face in this difference is echoed (or, more accurately, mirrored) by the confusion that western art created in the minds of the Orientals.
When the Italian missionary Matteo Ricci (known in China as Li Ma-tou) brought to China pictures of Christ and the Virgin Mary at the beginning of the seventeenth century, a minor storm broke out in the art circles of China.
The Chinese had never seen anything that was so startlingly realistic.
They were amazed by the chiaroscuro and the chromatic pattern of the pictures. 3
This divergence of aesthetics was so deep that, until the early part of the 20th century, there were some Europeans who would quite heatedly deny that there was such a thing as Chinese ‘Art’.
So where does one start in the appreciation of a particular piece of calligraphy? Perhaps first, you should constantly bear in mind the face that calligraphy is the writing down of ideas. The calligraphy piece may be one or two characters expressing some penetrating thought or evocative statement; it may be a short proverb or aphorism to guide you in your everyday life; it may be a poem from one of the great Tang dynasty poets. Whatever, it is an idea made tangible with ink on paper. It is also art!
Writing is an everyday kind of activity, but … Chinese characters ... have been refined over the centuries and consolidated into beautiful forms
which can be used to achieve a high level of artistic expression. 4
Oriental calligraphy is an abstraction. The expression of the idea or ideas is achieved through a system of ciphers - ideograms – some originally based on pictographic representations of the idea, others compounded to form more complex concepts and associations. Therefore it is not improper to approach a piece of calligraphy in much the same frame of mind as you would an abstract painting.
It is not impracticable to appreciate the beauty of calligraphical works
even without the knowledge of [the] ideograms,
because they are endowed with beauty in the abstract sense. 5
Perhaps the best way to start your evaluation process is to stand back and examine the overall composition from a distance. If the calligraphy is one of a classic, formal style, then you should look for a clean, structured layout, with the space above the characters being about twice the space at the bottom. This is the so-called ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ proportion. Unlike the practice in western art, the Chinese tend to place the greater empty space at the top of the work, while we tend to place it at the bottom.
As you get nearer to the work, begin to pay attention to the spaces between the characters, both horizontally and vertically. If it is a classically styled work, look to see if the spaces are even, and that each character has a discernible and harmonious relationship with the characters above and below, and on either side.
If you are viewing a piece executed in a less formal, ‘freer’ style, you should be looking for a dynamic visual balance in the overall composition. Look for the way the calligrapher has manipulated the balance between the positive elements (the ink) and the negative (the paper).
Be prepared to trust your first impression. Sometimes if you spend too much time analysing a calligraphic work, you may find yourself confused and uncertain. The first impression you receive is often the most accurate, and you are more likely (in that first encounter) to be struck by the emotion going through the heart of the calligrapher as he or she did the work.
A [calligraphy] should be good to look at from a distance or near at hand. Some [calligraphies] are good to look at closely, but not at a distance; they show good brush-work and ink-work, but the fault lies in their general composition.
Of other [calligraphies] the reverse is true. 6
Because the Oriental aesthetic is so deeply involved with lines, and the spaces that these lines create, you will find it important to develop a sensitivity to the negative space in every calligraphic work. If you have not been exposed to any training in the appreciation of negative space, think of this: The letter ‘o’, without the negative space it contains, would merely be a large dot (•)! However, if I were to write the word “b••k”, you would still know what I meant, because the negative spaces surrounding the two central letters allow your mind to recognise the intent, and to complete the attempted communication. Negative space is even more important in Oriental calligraphy and painting.
The spacing of Chinese design [is] its most original factor. Lao Tsu’s dwelling on the power of emptiness – the hollow of the clay vessel alone making it serviceable – gives explicit expression to an inbred tendency of the Chinese mind,
which discovered in painting and in poetry the value of reserves and silences,
the invitation to imagination in the thing left unexpressed. 7
The separate brushstrokes that form the characters provide endless variations in shape and balance, denseness and sparsity, but the calligrapher’s fundamental goal remains to create a unified and harmonious whole in which brushwork and composition are inseparable. The qishi or ‘vital force’ of the work is conveyed through the harmonious interplay of varied and disparate elements. This concept of calligraphy [is] rooted in the ancient Chinese concept of the fundamental harmony inherent in the continuous processes of change in the natural universe. 8
The expression qishi is used in Chinese to convey the meaning of ‘momentum’ or ‘driving force’. This is a quality in calligraphy difficult to describe, but once you learn to recognise it, you will find it clearly discernible in its presence, and obvious in its absence. The Chinese word “qi” has a large number of meanings (or shades of meaning), from ‘gas’, ‘air’, through ‘breath’ to the specific name for the vital energy in our own being that keeps us alive.
Everything in the universe, organic and inorganic, is composed of and defined by its Qi. But Qi is not some primordial, immutable material, not is it merely vital energy. Chinese thought does not distinguish between matter and energy, but we can perhaps think of Qi as matter verging on becoming energy,
or energy at the point of materialising . 9
In a masterpiece of calligraphy, this “energy at the point of materialising” creates the feeling of strength and vitality that you see expressed through each line; the subtle extra quality that puts real life into those trailing footprints of the brush as it moves across the surface of the paper.
Studies by Tarayama Katsujo have shown Zen calligraphy is truly “alive”. He collected authentic Zen calligraphy, and copies made by modern calligraphers and examines them with an electron microscope, magnifying certain sections from fifty to one hundred thousand times. The magnified ink particles of the authentic pieces were vibrant, full of ki 10 , numinous; by contrast the ink particles of the forgeries and copies were dispersed, weak, dead. 11
Without this quality the [calligraphy], artistically considered and critically judged, must be pronounced a failure. Such a [calligraphy] may be perfect in proportion and design, correct in brush force and … may have complied with the principles of … heaven, earth and man; it may have scrupulously observed all the rules or lines, dots and ledges and yet if KI IN (‘spiritual elevation’) be wanting the [calligraphy] has failed as a work of true art. 12
In calligraphy, Qi is expressed in the ink. And it is this medium, together with water and the absorbent paper typically used, which gives the calligrapher the hardest task: to visualise the finished result before the brush touches the paper. In addition, the calligrapher cannot rub out a mistake, or go back to make corrections – to thicken a line too thin, or to strengthen a line too weak. The ink and water in the brush, once applied to the paper, ‘owns’ the paper it touches, and any secondary marks applied after will show as separate. One technique sometimes used by judges and teachers when they are evaluating an unmounted work, is to turn the piece of calligraphy over so they can examine the back of the work. There, for all to see, is the history of the piece: the sweep of the strokes, the rhythm of the brushwork, the paused and hesitations – and any corrections are usually plainly visible.
When the brush touches the paper which is highly absorbent, all variations in touch, speed, angle and direction are sensitively recorded. Too light a touch results in weakness while an excessively heavy touch causes clumsiness. Too much speed gives a slippery effect, while too little drags . 13
In writing a character or characters, the calligrapher is required to use lines and dots to achieve his concept in one breath, with continuous movement, without stopping to think or reason along the way.
On finding some discontented points or mistakes, he is not allowed to mend or stop his movement to evaluate how to redo it. Thus the calligrapher must go on expressing a work of SHO (calligraphy) through heart and soul, with frankness and purity going beyond the conscious level . 14
Whereas oil painting allows long analyses and many afterthoughts when the artist is bent on fixing the expression of a face or bringing life to a smile, the painting of water colour on silk or paper forbids the slightest retouch, or the smallest addition, makes any correction impossible and betrays the hand’s tiniest hesitation. Every stroke of the moving brush, that wonderful Chinese brush that responds to every demand, must be made at the very moment when inspiration comes, and must be made with that final sureness which can only be obtained by long practice in calligraphy. 15
While Chinese characters at first appear to be inordinately complex, they are constructed from quite simple elements. As Doctor Leo Weiger, the Jesuit Sinologist, wrote in his masterwork on Chinese characters, “From a calligraphic viewpoint, the Chinese characters are all reduced into simple strokes. These materials amount, for modern writing, to nine in theory, and to about seventeen in practice.” 16 From these simple, uncomplicated elements, all characters are constructed. And yet, to the calligrapher, “each dot and each stroke has a special kind of charm. They jab and stab and cut like sharp swords in a fine array.” 17
Each stroke has an individual integrity but also participates in the whole structure. The work is accomplished, not through some spontaneous waving of the brush and splashing of the ink, but deliberately, “as if engraving in stone.” 18
While there is a lot of detail which could be covered on the many fine points on how to hold the brush, suffice here to point out that in Oriental calligraphy, the brush is held vertically; whereas in western watercolour, the brush is used at an angle. The principle difference, in relation to the general discussion here, is that the vertically held brush allows the calligrapher greater control over the thickness and texture of the line through the simple expedient of raising and lowering the brush. The higher the brush is held away from the paper, the finer the line; and vice versa. This up and down movement is particularly important in the correct formation of the classic strokes, and absolute control of the brush is one of the marks of a skilled and practiced calligrapher.
Wang Xizhi, the “calligrapher sage” … is regarded as the greatest master of all time. … In his work The Calligraphic Strategy of Lady Wei, he writes: “The sheet of paper is a battleground; the brush: the lances and swords; the ink: the mind, the commander-in-chief; ability and dexterity: the deputies; the composition: the strategy. By grasping the brush the outcome of the battle is decided: the strokes and lines are the commander’s orders; the curves and returns are the mortal blows . 19
Still another factor to consider, as you assess the work before you, is the flow of the ink onto the paper, from the beginning of the work to its end. In many cases, you will be able to discern where the calligrapher re-inked his brush. In some styles of writing, this can be a distraction, and might even be considered a fault, whereas in others it is a major contributor to the ‘colour’ of the finished work, giving a subtle rhythm and cadence to the image presented on paper.
If he is a delicate and sentimental soul, he will show a delicate and sentimental style, but if he loves strength and massive power he will also adopt a style that goes in for strength and massive power. Thus in … calligraphy, … we are able to see a whole category of aesthetic qualities of different types of beauty, and no one will be able to separate the beauty of the finished product and the beauty of the artist’s own soul. 20
A gift from the gods
Throughout the Orient writing is held to be a gift from the gods; the divinely inspired letters and characters are objects of the highest veneration . 21
The practice of Oriental calligraphy is considered a mental (and often spiritual) discipline. Great attention is placed on the development of the correct mental attitude and preparedness. In Japan, for example, among the Zen Buddhists,
Calligraphy [is] a delicate balance of static and dynamic in a static environment. The subtlety of [this] art is clearly shown from the transition from rest to movement and from movement to rest. In calligraphy, a critical moment is what is called raku-hitsu, when the brush comes first onto the paper for the initial stroke. The raku-hitsu is a great koan 22 which arises to confront the ardent student of the brush. 23
In your observation of a piece of calligraphy, you should pay particular attention to this raku-hitsu – the ‘point of entry’ to the entire composition. (This will be the first stroke of the first character in the main statement.) Your attention should be directed to this aspect first, and your first assessment should be made here as to the strength or weakness, the determination or hesitation, the courage or the trepidation of the calligrapher. Because this is the beginning. This is the opening statement of the calligrapher’s message. Once the brush has begun its peregrinations across the page, the calligrapher can grow in confidence, the strokes can become stronger, the emphasis braver.
After studying this point, give some attention to the other key pints: the first stroke in the other characters (particularly if the brush has just been re-inked); the final stroke of each character – looking for some indication that the calligrapher was quite determined that the stroke should end exactly where he paused and lifted the brush.
Dedications, colophons, signatures and seals
While they do not necessarily contribute to the main message of the calligraphy, these additional parts are integral to the overall composition. In fact, a well-placed seal can sometimes correct a minor imperfection in balance or structure, by creating a new design dynamic. If the piece of calligraphy your are studying is in a book or catalogue, you can experiment with scraps of paper to see how the composition of the total piece is affected by the removal of one or more of these elements.
As Pan Tianshou himself pointed out, in traditional Chinese painting “seals and inscriptions are an integral part of the content of a painting; their relations are as inseparable like blood and flesh and cannot be placed without any preconception.” He also maintained that even the size of the seal must be considered part of the composition. Furthermore, the vermillion impressions of the seals must be carefully balanced with the ink tonalities of the pictorial image and the inscription of a painting. 24
Not all calligraphies will have all these additions. In fact, (particularly among the modern calligraphers) you may even find calligraphies with only a seal to identify the artist. However, should you see a calligraphy without a seal, the probability is that the calligrapher was not sufficiently satisfied with the work.
In museums and galleries, dedications and colophons can provide useful information about when the calligraphy was done, where it was done, and even, why it was done. A dedication to a well-known person or the impression of a collection seal also can assist in determining the provenance of the piece.
Seals can be a full and separate study on their own. Each seal is a calligraphic entity, confined and limited only by space and material. Nevertheless, seals can provide dramatic emphasis to a piece of calligraphy, and the design, weight, size and colour can add or detract from the finished work in no small manner.
Not all seals are name seals. Some carry pen-names or aliases. Others make rebus-like statements about the person. For example, noted Sydney calligrapher, Liang Xiaoping, has a seal which reads “Sydney Ink Farmer”.
A most important category of seal is the so-called Xian Zhang , or “leisure’ seals. Leisure seals may contain an aphorism, a line of a poem, a statement of attitude, aspiration or age, or anything else that the calligrapher finds personally amusing or revealing.. It maybe the Chinese year name from the cycle of sixty years, it might record the place where the work was done, or the place where the artist was born. In fact, the range of messages contained in these seals is almost limitless.
Almost a sub-species of this genre are the picture seals. These may be reproductions of the classic seals of the Zhou and Han dynasties, or they may be some form of modern whimsy.
These seals are likely to be positioned almost anywhere in the composition except under the signature, where you will almost unfailingly find a name or pen-name seal. On the rarest occasions, you might find a name seal that takes the form of a picture seal, particularly where the most primitive writing of the characters in the name incorporate some zoomorphic elements.
A quick overview
of the main styles of characters
Chinese writing has been under continuous development for the last four to five thousand years. Naturally, within such a time span, there have been a large number of changes and adjustments to the characters; some caused by natural evolution, others through changes in the nature of the writing instrument and the writing surface.
In the simplest terms, this means that each character can be ‘correctly’ written in a number of different configurations – not all of which are immediately recognizable to any other than the dedicated student. This makes even harder the task of the viewer without much or any knowledge of Chinese writing.
There are many books and articles available which detail the history and development of the various styles of writing which occurred over the first three millennia of Chinese civilisation. It is probably true to say that, except for the introduction of jianhua Hanzi or simplified Chinese characters which began in the 1950s, the various conventional forms of Chinese writing had all been established by AD 400.
For the purpose of this discussion and to assist in the appreciation of a piece of calligraphy, it is probably enough that you recognise the five main forms of style; that you are able to recognize them by their main characteristics, and that you have some expectations of the disciplines of each style.
One of the most common forms is Kaishu or ‘regular’ style, which is that written form most similar to the printed characters in books, magazines and newspapers. This form’s design is based on a square, with the various elements arranges to balance visually on a vertical axis. In evaluating work employing this form, you should give particular attention to the precision of the individual strokes, to the balance of the character within its imaginary square, to the spacing between each character (both vertically and horizontally), and to a general feeling of stability and strength.
Similar in appearance to Kaishu is the form called Xingshu or ‘running style’. In this, the general configuration of the characters follows the overall shape of the Kaishu form, but the lines are more fluid, running together as the brush is less often lifted from the page. Xingshu is used in everyday writing, giving the advantage of greater speed without loss of communicative efficiency.
Further removed from the precision of Kaishu is that extremely fluid, fully cursive style called Caoshu or ‘draft’ style, also commonly but incorrectly called ‘grass’ style. This form is actually older than the Kaishu form, and “may have been written, in the first instance, in a hurried and sketchy manner, for the sake of convenience; but, later, scholars found a certain beauty in it and an interest in practicing and perfecting it.” 25
These three forms have dominated calligraphic practice since their establishment, but there are two older forms which are still often employed in important situations, because of their historical significance and their inherent grace, beauty and dignity.
Lishu , known as ‘official’ or ‘clerical’ style, is distinguished by its generally horizontal orientation. Where Kaishu tends to fit within an imaginary square, Lishu fits more comfortably into a horizontal oblong roughly in the proportion of 8:10. In its most classic form, the horizontal lines have a squared-off beginning, with one main horizontal or sweeping strokes finishing on the right hand side with a pronounced thickening of the line. Probably more than any of the three previously mentioned styles, Lishu demands great control over the flow of the ink, with the barest minimum of ‘bleeding’.
The term Zhuanshu , or ‘seal’ script, is used here to accommodate all the earliest forms of Chinese writing. The style called Xiao Zhuanshu , or ‘small seal script’ was formalised and codified during the reign of Chin Shihuangdi, the first great emperor of China, whose tomb in Xian is guarded by the famous terracotta army. In its classic form, the lines are even, without any discernible variations in width or colour; the characters fitting within a vertical oblong, and including more rounded shapes and less squared-off corners.
The precursors of Xiao Zhuanshu are the various Da Zhuanshu or ‘great seal script’ forms used in the different kingdoms before unification under the Chin dynasty; the Guwen or ‘ancient script’ characters found cast into bronze ritual vessels; and the Jaiguwen ‘shell and bone’ or ‘oracular script that is the earliest of all Chinese writing, only rediscovered in the 20 th century, and dated to as early as 3000 – 2500 BC. These early scripts often include primitive pictographic images, which make them popular with some calligraphers, who use them to create dramatic visual compositions.
Applying the meaning
Whenever you have the opportunity to view calligraphy with a catalogue or some accompanying documentation which published the meaning of the various exhibits, you have an additional criterion to apply to your assessment; that is, how does the calligraphy enhance the communication of the meaning? And while it is more likely that you might find translations in a major gallery, you should not hold back from asking people to help you by giving you an idea of the meanings of the calligraphies you are looking at.
For example, in most of the historic buildings in China, Japan and Korea, you will find a calligraphed plaque hanging above the main doorway. This is the name of the hall, or gate, temple or whatever, and will always be an example of the writing of a prominent calligrapher – sometimes of hundreds of years ago. On the sides of the doorways you will also notice couplets. These represent a literary form unique to the Chinese language, and which is admired and respected throughout the Orient. The ability to write measured and balanced couplets is well recognized as the sign of a good education and a high level of culture.
Antithesis and parallelism in thought and speech, by virtue of their quality of symmetry, are aesthetically satisfying to the human mind. Thus it is not surprising to find these figures of speech embellishing the earliest recorded writings, making the thoughts therein the more easily memorized, 26
A mathematical kind of precision also finds its way into Chinese poetry, which is a rich source of textual material for calligraphers. There is an old Japanese proverb which states that ‘a poem is a picture with a voice”. Calligraphy takes that voice and recreates the picture.
Enjoying the experience
By far the most important aspect of any viewing of Oriental calligraphy is that you should enjoy the experience. You should allow your imagination to retrace the movements of the calligrapher’s hand; to try to re-create the emotion that inspired the work; and to allow yourself to become absorbed into the lines and spaces traced across the surface of the paper.
[Western] art, like [Western] civilization, too often defeats its own ends; in the thirst for reality it falls into indiscriminate acceptance, and loses or obscures essentials. The art and life of the East stand, with more constancy for a finely valuing choice . 27
Nothing is more hallowing than the union of kindred spirits in art. At the moment of meeting, the art lover transcends himself. At once he is and is not. He catches a glimpse of Infinity, but words cannot voice his delight, for the eye has no tongue. Freed from the fetters of matter, his spirit moves in the rhythm of things. It is thus that art becomes akin to religion and ennobles mankind. It is this which makes a masterpiece something sacred. 28
This is the wonder of Oriental calligraphy. This is time, given life, that moves and breathes – but after it has lived in your mind, stands still again, awaiting the next viewing.
1 Tankyu Sano, The Appreciation of SHO , from the catalogue of Contemporary Calligraphy of Japan , Queensland Art Gallery, Brisbane, 1990
2 Lawrence Binyon, from the essay “Painting” in Chinese Art . B.T. Batsford, Ltd, London, 1935. p. 7
3 Ch’en Chih-mai, Chinese Calligraphers and their Art . Melbourne University Press, 1966. p. 269
4 Takeshi Kanazawa, On the Internationalisation of Japanese Calligraphy , from the catalogue of Contemporary Calligraphy of Japan , op cit
5 General commentary on calligraphy, from the catalogue of an Exhibition of Modern Japanese Calligraphy , 1966
6 Lin Yutang, The Chinese Theory of Art, Heinemann, London, 1967. From the essay “The Art of Painting”, Shen Tsung-Ch’ien (fl. 1781). P. 171
7 Lawrence Binyon. Chinese Art , op cit. p. 12
8 Huang Miaozi, from the preface to Dancing Ink II , (the catalogue of calligraphy by Wang Fangyu), 1993
9 Ted J. Kaptchuk, Chinese Medicine, the Web that has no Weaver , Rider & Company, London, 1985. p. 35
10 “ Ki ” is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese character “ qi ”.
11 John Stevens, Sacred Calligraphy of the East , Shambala, Boston, 1988. p. 143
12 Henry P. Bowie, On the Laws of Japanese Painting , 1911. Dover facsimile edition, p. 82
13 T. C. Lai, Three Contemporary Chinese Painters , Swindon Book Company, Kowloon, 1975. p. 59
14 Seikei Kunii, The Artistic Character of SHO , from the catalogue of Contemporary Calligraphy of Japan , op cit
15 Alain Lumière, Japanese Art: Handscrolls , Methuen, London, 1961.
16 Dr. Leo Weiger, SJ., Chinese Characters, Their Origin, Etymology, History, Classification and Signification , Catholic Mission Press, 1927. p. 12
17 Lin Yutang, The Chinese Theory of Art , op cit. From the essay “ Record of Famous Paintings ”, Chang Yen-yüan (fl AD 847). P. 56
18 James Cahill, from the essay “ The Shanghai School in Later Chinese Painting”, in Twentieth -Century Chinese Painting , Oxford University Press, 1988. p. 57
19 Edward Fazzioli, Understanding Chinese Characters , William Collins, London, 1987. p. 11
20 Lin Yutang, The Importance of Living , Heinemann, London, 1938. p. 386
21 John Stevens, Sacred Calligraphy of the East , op cit. p. xi
22 “ Koan ”: a riddle, symbolic story or mental exercise, designed as a tool to liberate the mind from conditioned habits and assumptions.
23 Trevor Leggett, A First Zen Reader , Charles Tuttle, Tokyo, 1960. p. 222
24 Jason C. Kuo, Word as Image, the Art of Chinese Seal Engraving , China House Gallery, China Institute in America, New York, 1992. p. 59
25 Chiang Yee, Chinese Calligraphy, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1973. p. 93
26 Ma Meng, Professor of Chinese, University of Hong Kong, in the introduction to T. C Lai’s Chinese Couplets , Swindon Book Company, Hong Kong, 1969.
27 Lawrence Binyon, Painting in the Far East , Third Edition, 1923. Dover facsimile 1959. p. 21
28 Okakura Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, Duffield and Green, New York, 16 th edition, 1932. p. 111