The Chinese Theory of Art: Shi Tao (Part III)
5. On Brush and Ink
Some have the power of the brush, others the power of ink. The ink splashes onto the brush by soul, and the brush controls the ink by spirit. Without nourishment and culture the inks lack soul; without vitality the brush lacks spirit. Life in nature consists in the ink-wash expressing the concrete forms of hills and rivers, seen from the front or the back, from side and on a slant, scattered or clustered together, distant or near, external or internal, solid or empty, continuous or broken, they have layers and sections and falling aspects; they have charm and elusive expanse. The power of ink and brush allows the soul and spirit of things to be captured and given their full effect on paper.
6. Control of the Wrist
What is born in us may be from unknown depths, but its expression is here and now. What can be put into the distance comes from the recognition of some object close at hand. The one-stroke is something elementary in calligraphy and painting. The mountains and the seas are but copies of swellings and hollows of things nearby. Life and movement are the elementary principles of contour and texture lines. Without knowledge of light and shadow, one see only a row of hills and connections of waterways.
When the wrist is firm, the drawing is sure and expressive, when it is flexible, it darts and dances and soars. When it moves fast, it gathers force; when it moves slowly, there is a meaningful dip and turn. When the wrist moves, unconsciously inspired, the result is true to nature. When the wrist if gifted with genius, the painting is beyond the work of human minds, and when the wrist moves with spirit, the hills and streams yield up their souls.
7. Cloudy Forms
Where the brush and ink blend, cloudy forms are produced. Undifferentiated, such cloudy forms represent chaos, and to bring definition our of chaos, there must be the one-stroke. With the stroke, the hills come alive, the water moves, the woods grow and prosper, and men are given that carefree atmosphere. Controlling the mixture of brush and ink comes from intelligence. One must avoid laborious details, flatness, or falling into a set pattern, lacking coherence or going against the inner nature of things.
Stand firm in the sea of ink, seek life in the movement of the brush tip, and give forth light from the unformed darkness. For one controls the ink, and is not controlled by it, handles the brush and is not handled by it. One gives form to the possible, transforming the One into primeval cloudy forms. This is the height of artistic ability.