Showing posts with label Chinese art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chinese art. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 September 2021

Chinese Ink drawing: A continuing tradition

Jing Hao

From Chinese ink sticks to those inks used in biros and felt tips, via traditional drawing inks such as oak gall ink to the many and various printers' inks, ink has been central to the way artists have made images on paper for hundreds of years. This post is another attempt to look at ink as a medium and how it can be used when making images.

Chinese ink drawing it could be argued is the oldest continuous drawing tradition that uses liquid ink. The Chinese term for ink and wash painting is 'shuǐ-mò' (水墨, 'water and ink'). Landscape was regarded as the highest form of this art and the tradition is well over a thousand years old. If you look carefully at the brushwork of the early practitioners, for instance in the images made by Jing Hao (c. 855-915) or Li Cheng (c. 919–967), you will find most of the mark making techniques that reoccur throughout this brush drawing tradition, already in use. This reflects on the fact that the basic implements for making ink brush images have stayed pretty much the same over the last thousand years. 

Li Cheng

The ink for Chinese ink painting as well as Japanese ink painting, is traditionally formed into 'ink sticks'. Ink sticks or ink cakes are basically solid ink made from soot and animal glue. When you are ready to use them for liquid ink, they need to be ground against an inkstone with a little water. You vary the concentration of the ink according to preference by reducing or increasing the intensity and duration of ink grinding, as well as the amount of water that the ink stick is dissolved into. The tradition of making ink sticks is very old and there is an extensive literature surrounding the significance of them in Chinese culture, and probably of all the traditional inks you could use, Chinese ink sticks are the most rich in terms of cultural meaning. There is also, because of the many years of their use, a long tradition relating to the aesthetic appreciation of them, for instance, the best inksticks make very little noise when grinding due to the fine soot used, which makes the grinding action very smooth, whereas a very loud or scratchy grinding noise indicates an ink of poor quality that has been made with a grainy soot. The inkstone is also subject to a long cultural history, as are brushes, papers, bamboo pens and the various ways that the ink can be applied. The inkstick is considered one of the Four Treasures of the Study of classical Chinese literary culture.

What is significant for myself is that a culture can take something like ink and surround it with a mythical aura. Over the years a rich tradition is built that means that you can go back and look at a drawing made in ink a thousand years ago and think about how and why it is as it is. This helps us to then think about how any ink, any material that allows us to make marks, could also become just as deeply immersed into a cultural history. For instance oak gall ink can be seen as an ink carrying a very powerful history of its own. Ball point pen ink, although in the scheme of things is very new, has managed during its short time of usage to also become culturally significant. It is in the development of 'material myths' that you can glimpse a certain type of 'animist' attachment to the physical world, these inks are not just dissolved glue and soot, they are liquid life forces, black blood that can be used to animate the artist's vision. I also know of some artists that would say the same of the ink used in their biros.

In Japan where the Chinese tradition was passed on the art is called 'sumi-e'. (Sumi 墨 = black ink, e 絵 = painting). Zen Buddhist monks from China introduced ink art to Japan in the fourteenth century. Over time the main difference that began to emerge was one of reduction and simplification. The brush strokes that were used to represent forms were reduced in number and stripped down to an essential focus and were often combined with poetry.

The tools surrounding Japanese ink brush painting were also integral to the art and various types of brushes were invented to deal with the types of marks required. Even beginners were expected to use a quality brush and they were expected to understand its construction as well as its purpose. The town of Huzhou in China is known as the 'Hometown of Ink Brush' and brushes have been made there since the 13th century. 


A sumi brush hanger

Brushes had to be cleaned immediately on use and because the fibres were held together using animal glue, only cold water could be used to remove the ink.

The ink brush was invented in China around 300 B.C and is still manufactured using traditional materials. The handles are made from bamboo and the hair can come from a variety of animals, including goats, pigs, mice, weasel, buffalo, rabbit, etc. and they have even at times been made from human hair. When buying a brush the texture, (soft, mixed or hard), the size (from big to small) and hair length (long, medium or short) are the most important considerations. 

A 'large' Chinese brush made of goat hair (the terminology would be 'wolf-hair) and the hair is regarded as 'stiff'. 

I was looking at some ideas recently whereby the world could be depicted by various combinations of simple forms, and as always I am amazed at how long similar ideas have been around, in this case the basic Chinese brush painting strokes, include: upright vertical, oblique, reverse, hidden, exposed, scatter, drag, rub and dot and out of various combinations of these strokes images of everything can be constructed. 



Notice how important the elbow to wrist relationship is when maintaining fluid control of the brush

It is perhaps in the coordination between the body and these tools that a wonderful dance can be glimpsed. Fingers 're-find' themselves as they hold a brush in the most delicate manner. The elbow begins a new set of movements parallel to the horizontal surface of the drawing. Shoulders move up and down as pressure changes and breath control becomes essential to the rhythmic continuity of a brushstroke. The brush control in making certain marks that are 'like' forms found in nature is practiced over and over again, so that as the artist becomes more proficient these forms can be combined to make hybrids, which will enable even more 'likenesses' to forms seen in nature to be visualised. 

Rat's foot marks; light to heavy brush tip touch, 5 different directions

Chrysanthemum marks; 7 to 8 radiating out in different directions from the same point, weight on the brush slightly varied

Jie marks; dropping from centre, even brush weight

Blob shapes; wet oval strokes with blurred contours

Even-headed marks; horizontal strokes applied lightly with a little more pressure at the end of the stroke than at the beginning. The brush is dragged at an angle. (Often used for depicting rock formations)

Pine leaf dots; quick, downward strokes directed toward the centre, done with the tip of an upright brush.

Wutong leaf marks; the upright brush is pressed down in units of four strokes, with the tip forming the top and the upper bristle the bottom of the stroke.

Prunus blossom marks; 5 short strokes form a unit.

Outline marks; the triangles are outlined in black using three strokes

Pepper marks; often used for cedar leaves. Done with an upright brush quickly dabbed onto the paper using a brush tip.

Because landscape is seen as the main and most important subject matter for Chinese inkbrush painting, there are several types of brush strokes that are required learning if you are to become proficient. For myself the most interesting issue that is associated with this particular approach is the way that line and texture become synthesised within single marks. In western European drawing traditions we much more commonly use line and then add tone and texture, but here we can see that by careful controlling of brush angle, speed of movement plus ink mix and amount, one can achieve wonderful textural and tonal control using line alone. 
There are some basic approaches to working from landscape, the marks above are mainly for working with depictions of masses of plant life, the marks below are usually used for large landscape forms at a distance.

Small axe-cut marks; triangular strokes resembling cuts made by an axe; done with a slanted brush.

Long hemp-fibre marks; long, slightly wavy, relaxed strokes. Done with an upright brush held in the centre of the handle.

Short hemp-fibre marks; shorter and more ragged than the long hemp-fibre strokes, done with the brush tip.

Ravelled-rope marks; each stroke retains a twist; done with the slanted brush.

Cloud-head marks; curving strokes built up in the shapes like cumulus clouds.

Mi dot marks; extremely wet, diffuse dots or marks creating a blurry, atmospheric effect, made by laying the brush sideways and parallel to the picture horizon.

Bands dragged in mud marking; free and spontaneous, the general shape is applied in wash. Before it dries, strokes are added to produce a less clearly defined effect.

Nail-head marks; resembles the profile of a nail with a prominent beginning and ending with a sharp tip. The brush is pressed down at an angle and the stroke is finished with the brush in an upright position.

Because of the integration of landscape with calligraphy, the flow of experience that was being captured also led to the development extremely long formats, which then had to be rolled. Rolled paper formats needed to be handled carefully and as a result handscrolls were developed. A hand scroll is viewed by one, two, or maybe three people at a time. It is unrolled with the left hand and rolled with the right, thus being viewed two or three feet at a time, from left to right. (See post on Emakimono scrolls)

Wang Hui (1632 - 1717) Endless streams and mountains; handscroll, 21 x 480½ in 

The rituals associated with this form of ink drawing ensure that these images are encrusted with entanglements, they pull together perceptual memories of landscapes, ritualised hand movements, symbolic equipment, and a language of marks; as well as giving material significance to ink, surfaces (papers or silks), the body and the landscape, all woven into a dance like performance.

The tradition continues and you will find several contemporary Chinese and Japanese artists exploring the possibilities inherent in both the media itself and the cultural myths that surround its use. 

PU RU (1896-1963): Lotus & Dragonfly

Lao Dan, Chinese ink on rice paper

Several contemporary artists use ink and brush work in their performances or installations, such as Xu Bing and Yang Yongliang who both in their own ways link the contemporary world with Chinese tradition. 

Xu Bing

Yang Yongliang

See also:

Monday, 20 May 2019

Drawing Plants

Leonardo

One of the first drawings that I ever made where I realised I had been able to put something down on paper that I had actually seen, was of a flower. I can still remember the concentration it took and how I had to make its shape appear and disappear as the edges of a leaf moved behind each other. I had to move my head to 'see' what had happened and then make a decision how to show this. The realisation that by 'disappearing' the leaf plane and letting it reappear but now from beneath, would visually describe the way a leaf dipped through space was at the time magical. I suspect this is quite a common experience. 



Flowers are such beautiful things, designed to attract other living things so that pollen can be distributed, they have had millions of years of evolution to get those colours and shapes just right, no wonder we find them so fascinating. 

I'm once again having to go on about the art and science divide, so bare with me. In the last post I put a hyperlink in to a poem by Goethe. He wrote this about plants:

None resembleth another, yet all their forms have a likeness;
Therefore, a mystical law is by the chorus proclaim'd;
Yes, a sacred enigma! 

He recognised the mystical in the difference between each plant form. Each plant had a certain degree of similarity because of a set of features that are designed to do certain things, such as draw up water from the ground, photosynthesise and have sexual needs. But each plant was also very different because there are as many different niches for plants as there are possible differences in environments. Each leaf form designed to act slightly differently, roots that dig deep or hold on tight to stones in thin soils, yellow flowers that may be small, or red flowers that may be smaller or a similar size but only blossoming on late summer days. Stems are segmented or ridged, covered in hairs or smooth, tall or low lying, each designed by time and evolution to survive right here, right now. This is science, this is art, this is mystical knowledge that we all should know. So lets not dismiss those wonderful botanical artists who spend their days visualising plants. Celebrate them as creative artists of the highest order and bring them back into the fold of fine art. They should be shown alongside our Turner prize winners and not be relegated to dark dusty museum cupboards and seen as some sort of low grade artists who don't do 'real' art. For them art and science are one and in that fusion they continue to see the magic in reality. 

To draw a plant well you need to have a good grasp of its structure and to understand its structure you need to understand the plant's life. Make the plant a friend, listen to it, be with it and care about it. All simple things but once again it is about dissolving the differences between humans and other things. If we are to change our ways in order to not totally despoil the Earth, we need to begin somewhere, and this could be by simply making friends with that plant that we used to call a weed. 


Raymond Booth

Living in Leeds I have gradually became more and more aware of the work of Raymond Booth. Occasionally I would come across one of his studies of flowers, I immediately realised that they held within them a record of enormous feats of extended concentration. They were when you saw the originals very large drawings, sometimes four or five feet high, these were not schoolboy drawings, these were serious scientific studies made by someone with an artist's eye. His drawing above of a man holding flowers, is evocative of what his whole life was concerned with. The human figure in the drawing is Booth himself concentrating on the flowers he holds, his body gradually dissolving back into the field of marks that also operates as a sign for the vegetation that surrounds him. The tradition of intense close observation of nature goes back to Durer, and it could be argued that no one has ever captured a small piece of the earth with such intensity.  

Durer: Clod of earth


Raymond Booth: Iris study 

Perhaps using an over 'designed' layout, Booth's study still operates to inform us and show us what he has seen.  So much more understandable than a photograph, the drawing has a clear visual narrative that takes us under the ground as well as showing us the full glory of the plant in flower. 

Going back to John Dewey, Booth gives us a way of connecting with his own experience. An experience so common that we can overlook it. But when a well known fine artist did something similar, for instance when Michael Landy after completing his epic work of destruction in 'Break Down' made his etchings of weeds, he was praised for his bravery and refreshing take on art. The Tate Gallery buying a set of these prints and on its website tells us that "Landy collected a number of these plants and took them back to his studio where he potted and tended them, making studies of their structures including detailed renderings of roots, leaves and flowers". That's wonderful and very praiseworthy but I would argue that is what any botanical artist worth their salt would have to do on a daily basis.


Michael Landy

We forget that most of the activities that make sense are done over and over again. We discover that it is wonderful to lie back in the grass and gaze at slowly moving clouds as they shape change in the sky. We look at a clump of weeds and as we stare at it we realise that there is a whole world there to discover. Millions upon millions of human beings will have done those things, but that doesn't take away from the richness of each individual experience. Unfortunately we live in a society that wants to celebrate individuality, we focus on the fact that each one of us is different, when we ought to be looking far more closely at how we are similar. 

It was the work of Chinese artists that first of all set out the interrelationship between looking and understanding the world, not as a way of being separate from it, but as a way of commingling with it.
If you look at this brush drawing of a pine tree and chrysanthemums by Chen Shu you can see that she understands the six principles of Chinese brush drawing very well. 

Pine tree and chrysanthemums by Chen Shu 

I haven't referred to the six principles before and as they were set out as early as the year 550 it is worth looking at them in some depth. They have an almost mythic status and yet you could use them as a manifesto for the depiction of nature today. 
The Six principles of Chinese brush drawing were established by Xie He and first set out in the book ‘The Record of the Classification of Old Painters’.
The first and most important principle was ‘spirit resonance’ or vitality. The life energy of the maker should be transmitted from the artist into the work. The very heartbeat of the artist should exist in the rhythm of the marks that go to make up the work. There should be a total transmission of life force from the living being of the maker into the material structure of what is made. Xie He stated that without 'spirit resonance', there was no need to look further at a work. 
The second principle the "Bone Method" or ‘way of the brush’, establishes the method of establishing ‘spirit resonance’. The language of the brush stroke is linked to the textural qualities it can command. This is also to do with the ‘handwriting’ or personal signature of the artist, which can be read like graphology, a set of marks that can reveal the personality of the maker. It is important to remember that the art of calligraphy was inseparable from painting in Chinese art at this time. 

The third principle, "Correspondence to the Object," concerns the depiction of form, or how mark, shape and line are used in correspondence with what is being depicted. This again relates to the first principle. The chosen mark quality should be in sympathy with the qualities found in the object depicted by the maker. A link is established between the life force of the maker and the ‘spirit’ of what is to be represented. This ‘resonance’ goes both ways and can only work if the maker is ‘attuned’ to what is both seen and what is being understood in that seeing through a sensitivity to the materials of depiction. 

The forth principle, "Suitability to Type," refers to the overall colour or tone of the image. This includes the layering or the building up of textures when an image is worked on in order to refine differences or pick out qualities that refer to the particular nature of the subject. This is sometimes thought of as a type of refinement or fine tuning, but may also be to do with the overall atmosphere or feeling tone of an image. 

The fifth principle "Division and Planning," concerns both composition and the way that the image deals with space and depth. The placement of the various elements within an overall composition can either enhance or hinder an understanding of the overall spatial positioning of the pictorial elements. This together with an understanding of atmospheric perspective, size constancy, mark energy, formal relationship, such as whether or not objects overlap each other or whether they have a certain consistency of relationship, such as regular or irregular spacing between marks or shapes; will determine the overall spatial conviction of the image. 

The final principle "Transmission by Copying," concerns the amount of understanding the maker has of tradition. Every artist builds up their understanding of the principles of image construction by looking at the work of other artists and comparing the languages of art their predecessors have developed with their own experiences of the world. Therefore a good artist will reveal thoughtful study of past masters in the way they make their own work and at the same time reveal how well they study nature by the building of new visual ideas because of the need to record what they have observed that others may not have witnessed before. Thus tradition is preserved and art is refreshed again by each new generation of makers. 


Chen Shu's drawing of a pine tree and chrysanthemums echoes these principles and hopefully you can see how a simple depiction of plant life can embed within it a set of principles that could be applied to the depiction of anything. 

Dandelion Face

I have been drawing flowers a lot over the last few months, and gradually another aspect is beginning to emerge. As I draw them they begin to inhabit my subconscious, coming through that dark unknown internal space as slightly changed hybrids often with human features.

From a floral narrative

When I was a small boy the puppet programme 'Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men' was on children's hour, I watched it avidly even though I found the fact that houses and simple garden objects could be sentient rather disturbing. I suspect the character 'little weed' went much deeper down into my psyche than I realised.

Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men

See also: 

The evolution of an idea: how drawing plants can help evolve visual thoughts




Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Venice Biennale part 2

This year’s Venice Biennale is curated by Okwui Enwezor a Nigerian who works out of a gallery in Germany and has an office in New York. He is an advocate of art as a global phenomenon and warns us against using a white European western lens with which to evaluate art.

He has previously stated, "The only thing modernity teaches us is that modernity is in itself a project with very deep social, cultural, economic, and political entanglements. And there are no innocents. Artists function within transactions – whether in the relationships between objects, or the relationships between discourses". See http://032c.com/2008/okwui-enwezor/

Enwezor is very clear about his ‘audiences’, which I think is an important issue when not only curating but making art. I thought his phrase “there are no innocents” important too, as it engages with us as artists to make sure we are informed and that we are actively making work which is positioned as part of a global discourse. I am very aware that when I turn on the news I am affected both emotionally and politically in the way I respond. My art practice is therefore, because it is something I deeply want to engage with and shape and hone my feeling through, also affected by what is happening around me. However the ‘global village’ as McLuhan would put it, is also local and my experiences are also shaped by my immediate environment. This complexity is I think something to be embraced and as it is the reality of now, something we ought to respond to if we are to make an art practice that is relevant to our time and point of location on this Earth. Global warming, conflict and mass emigration are part of our lives, just as much as consumerism, the rise of social media and the selfie or the Yorkshire Dales, Leeds United and the streets of Chapeltown or one's age, gender and social class. 

Of course there are wide varieties of approach to art making within a context of global discourse and this blog is about drawing, so I have made an attempt to filter my responses through a drawing lens. Even so I cant escape the fact that at the centre of the whole Biennale there was a daily reading of Marx’s ‘Capital’, a reminder that the curator Enwezor asks us to frame our reception of the works through a Marxist reading. I shall try and pick out my own readings of course but perhaps as readers of the blog post you could add to my readings your own thoughts on the social, political and economic positioning of each work.

"Abu-Bakarr Mansaray was born in Sierra Leone, a country in western Africa that suffered from civil war during the 1990s. After quitting school in his teens, Mansaray taught himself practical science and engineering, while also devoting himself to a widely adopted technique in central Africa: manufacturing decorative objects or toys with wire and iron. He also invents machines for his own use at home and sometimes for other people.” See 

I found the work fascinating because when I was at school back in the 1950s most of my friends if they did draw, spent their time making drawings of war. We were a generation of children brought up by fathers who had been in the forces and who had seen action in WW2, our grandfathers had all fought in WW1 and therefore as boys we were expected to do the same in some future war. War inhabited our subconscious and we drew obsessive images of planes and tanks whenever we had a chance. Abu-Bakarr Mansaray has been able to visualise his awareness of the technology of war in a similar way, adding into it an obsession with details that have come from his engineering background. He also works on a large scale, some of his drawings being 4 to 5 feet across. The compaction of technical drawing and personal myth making, makes for a powerful mix of imagery. This together with a use of biro and felt-tip, all supported by dense annotation held my attention for quite some time, as the details force you to stand quite close to these images in order to read and see how detailing works.






Abu-Bakarr Mansaray 

In contrast Qiu Zhijie works in a tradition that has a 2,000 year old history. Chinese scroll brush drawings have a deep tradition that is still referred to by many contemporary artists. Qiu Zhijie uses traditional brush drawing to develop complex landscapes that contain several narratives. He works detailed images into the enveloping landscapes which are as much of the mind as of any actual geographic territory. Like many artists working today he also works in other media. 




Note the drawing of a roller machine near the bottom edge


Qiu Zhijie

 An image that is first seen in a drawing is often then recreated as an actual object, in one case a roller incised with an engraving of a star system is located on a central pole, so that it turns around on a central axis, the drawing the roller makes in the sand being erased as the machine turns, in another a music box is recreated in metal.



Qiu Zhijie

Qiu Zhijie also works using video techniques, often embedding his monitors in objects which again refer to sections of drawings and his obsession with cliches of Chinese history.

Qiu Zhijie

Qiu Zhijie also makes work much more directly looking at the historical nature of Chinese scroll brush drawings. This huge drawing below being a direct copy he has made of an original. However the drawing is done on 2 layers, the top layer is clear acrylic and on this he has annotated the drawing below.







Qiu Zhijie

Qiu Zhijie's annotations in effect bring the image back into the 21st century, his comments are those of an observer from another time, an observer who is fascinated by the parallels that can be made between now and then. 
Drawing is central to both these artist's practice, however one is direct and almost 'childlike' in its application and the other is very knowing and sophisticated in its execution. What both have in common is a love of detail and complex narrative, as well as a need to annotate their work.