1949年，英国艺术史家Kenneth Clark将他在牛津大学Slade professor席位的讲稿以Landscape into Art的书名结集出版。尽管Kenneth Clark的目的是希望解释日常中所说的“风景”是如何成为一门独立的艺术的，但是，他优美的分析仍然涉及到了欧洲国家的文明逻辑。他论及到了提供欧洲文化的源泉的希腊人仅仅对人而不是对自然的价值给予高度重视，只有到了Fracesco Petrarca(1304—1374)，欧洲文明才对自然本身有愉快的认识。Kenneth Clark甚至强调说：Petrarca “是第一个为登山而登山的人，他登上山顶仅仅是为了饱览大自然的景色”。在另一部著作Landscape and Western Art(Oxford University Press 1999)里，作者Malconlm Andrews(他也是一位英国教授)通过对可能是Lucas Cranarch(1472—1553)的作品和Albrecht Durer(1471—1528)的两件作品（Little Pond House,c.1497 and The Virgin and the Long-tailed Monkey,c.1497-98）的比较，讨论了欧洲画家究竟是在什么时候将“风景”作为主题（subject），而不仅仅作为背景(setting)。就自然作为被欣赏的主题入画而言，中国人因为其基本的思想与文化背景（老庄哲学及其生活态度），很早给予了认可。如果我们通过文字去了解中国古人对自然的认知态度，那的确是太久远的事了：

今我斯游，
　　神怡心静。
　　……
　　嘉会欣时游，
　　豁尔畅心神。
　　（王肃之：《兰亭诗》）
　　散怀山水，
　　萧然忘羁。
　　（王徽之：《兰亭诗》）
　　屡借山水，以化其郁结。
　　（孙绰：《三月三日兰亭诗序》）

这些文字比Fracesco Petrarca给他的朋友信中讨论对自然的愉快感受要早差不多一千年。如果我们去寻找古人完成的让人神怡的自然风景，即便不去讨论王维，五代时期的山水画也已经非常说明问题。

我们的重点当然不是风景画或者山水画的历史研究，我想说的是，存在着文明传统导致的艺术差异，不同的文化传统对生活在这个传统背景下的艺术家起着难以抵御的作用，并让艺术家饱受其滋润，培育出特殊的气质，从而形成独特的思维与感觉方式。就像本次展览的标题一样，我们很难将中文“溪山清远（xi shan qing yuan）”其翻译成英语，而勉为其难地使用了“Pure Views”，在那些严格的学者那里，这样的翻译几乎是不成功的，甚至具有难以表达含义的遮蔽性。

Pure Views是南宋时期（1127—1279）的画家夏圭的一件山水画的标题。夏圭的生卒年并不清楚，但是他一定属于宁宗（1195—1224）时期的人 ，因为他是宁宗朝画院待诏，并有受赐金带的记录。Pure Views是中国绘画史中的重要作品，作品描绘了中国江南江湖两岸的景色：群峰、悬岩、茂林、楼阁、长桥、村舍、茅亭、渔舟、远帆。一个普通的西方观众会如何将这幅画中的自然与比如John Constable（1776—1837）的风景画进行比较呢？

艺术史家当然可以从材料、技术、风格以及趣味上去寻找不同和差异，但是，真正的差异来自文化的源头，来自文明的自身传统，如果观众对一种艺术现象缺乏对其文明传统的了解，即便是在今天如此具有平面性的全球化时代，也很难有真正的理解与认同。

观众很容易看出，与之前若干年里对中国当代艺术的印象不同，展览里的作品似乎更多地开始呈现出特殊的传统气质。参加展览的大多数作品描绘的是自然、风景以及山水的内容，曾经的政治与意识形态的符号几近消失，而且，不同程度地透露出了新的气象，应该看得出来，这些新气象表明艺术家们很主动地从中国的传统文化中寻找资源，尽管他们采用了各自的角度，意图也不太一样。

对于中国知识分子和艺术家来说，讨论“文明”与“传统”这类问题并没有想象的那样容易。中国知识分子对自身文明的反省开始于鸦片战争，1895年甲午海战失败之后，对西方文明的了解成为大多数关心国家命运的知识分子的严峻课题。涉及东方与西方、现代与传统之间的冲突问题一直持续不断，但是，直到1937年中国抗日战争的全面爆发，艺术家们对自己文明的看法也不像“五四”时期部分激进知识分子那样给予决然的否定。那些从法国和意大利学习西画的艺术家仍然经常用毛笔在宣纸上作画，并与传统主义者共同举办书画雅集。1945年到1949年是内战时期，在国民党统治区，艺术家之间根据自己的知识与判断确定自己的立场——坚持西画或者坚持传统绘画；在共产党控制的延安地区，艺术家们被告知，重要的不是西画和那些传统的中国画，因为，之前共产党的领导人毛泽东在1942年5月告诉当地知识分子：文艺应该成为打击敌人（日本军队与国民党）的武器，党要求艺术的风格与趣味应该让那些没有文化的民众能够理解和认同，这样能够很好地宣传共产党的政策与思想。

1949年，共产党取得全国政权，直到1976年，延安时期的文艺政策和思想始终被要求成为所有艺术家必须遵循的准则。这是一个政治运动不断地二十七年，艺术家们在每一次运动中被教育、提醒和要求表明自己的政治立场，让艺术成为政治任务的工具。的确，有不同的时期，艺术家们讨论着关于传统文明的继承和发扬问题，可是，那都是政治运动需要的托词，一旦政治目标和任务发生了变化，关于传统的讨论将会立即被停止或被重新解释。1966年开始的“文化大革命”是毛泽东对党内的同仁的一次有目的的清洗。在波及全国的群众性大批判运动中，传统文明几乎被归纳到“封建地主阶级的腐朽没落思想”的范围内，大量的文物、建筑和书画文献遭到破坏。直到1978年，党的十一届三中全会将工作的重心从“阶级斗争”转为“经济建设”，人们才渐渐有了机会恢复对传统文化的重新认识。从1937年战争的全面爆发，到1976年残酷的“文化大革命”的结束，中国的传统文明的宝贵载体遭到了毁灭性的灾难，最为重要的是，中国艺术家缺乏思想环境和制度条件去接续他们自己的传统文明，结果，40、50年代出生的人几乎没有受到过传统文化的教育，有很长的一个时间里，他们甚至难以看到那些最为基本的传统著作。所以在精神上，传统的香火几近熄灭。

上个世纪80年代，中国年轻的艺术家开始从图书、展览中重新了解西方艺术，他们将西方思想和艺术用于个人重新观看世界和实现个人的艺术自由。这个时期，主要是西方的现代主义艺术——从印象主义到达达艺术——对他们产生直接的影响，他们对之前的政治禁锢是如此地反感并对新艺术无限向往，加上他们对传统文化的严重缺失的教育背景，因此有将近十年的时间，中国的现代主义艺术家没有去关心和重新理解他们自己的传统文明。

80年代末，自由的空气已经有了十年，艺术家们渐渐有了条件去了解和认识传统艺术。这份工作最初主要是从那些保持用传统工具的国画家开始的。1989年，一个名为“新文人画”的展览在北京举行。这个展览被那些现代主义艺术家嘲笑为思想的无能和艺术胆量的懦弱，是艺术的退步，不过，随着时间的推移，越来越多的年轻画家加入了这个队伍。可是，那些使用非传统材料和工具的艺术家却继续与西方的潮流发生联系，由于中国的特殊制度背景、市场经济的发展和受国际社会冷战意识形态传统的影响，上个世纪90年代里，中国艺术家更合适的机会是通过国际性的展览展示自己的新艺术，由于这些新艺术的图像具有特别的象征和关乎这个时期的特殊趣味，西方观众越来越通过这些艺术了解到了中国，他们熟悉了张晓刚、王广义、方力钧、岳敏君等不少中国当代艺术家的名字。

改革开放导致中国越来越深地融入进这个世界，这提示了中国究竟什么才是这个民族和国家的具有创造性的立脚点？一百多年对西方文明的学习让自己的文明究竟获得了什么？什么是今天及其与今天相关的艺术？

1998年，德意志联邦共和国驻华大使馆在北京主办了一个题为IM SPIEGEL DER EIGENEN TRADITION （传统反思：中国当代艺术展），Eckhard R.Schneider 说:Das Konzept der Ausstellung geht von mehreren tomalen Bereichen traditioneller chinesischer Kunst aus und zeigt ein Spektrum verschiedener Bezugsmoglichkeiten in der zeitgenossischen Kunst.（这次展览的出发点是展示中国当代艺术如何从不同的角度和方面对待自己的传统)，展览中出现了不少当代艺术家的作品。作为学者的朱青生不仅参加了展览，还写了一篇文章，他为观众提示了“艺术”的中国古义是如何演变的，他还说：“‘艺术’的中国古义的重新考察是出于现代艺术的要求。”这里，他多少敏感到中国现代艺术或当代艺术的发展已经到了需要重新反省自身文明传统的时候了。2003年，在北京东京艺术工程空间里，批评家栗宪庭策划了“念珠与笔触”（Prayer Beads and Brush Strokes）。他邀请了部分使用传统材料和工具的画家，展示他们区别于“大体没有超出西方抽象主义和抽象表现主义的语言模式”的“水墨抽象”的另一类——发展于“新文人画”——的作品。尽管这些作品看上去大致仍然是“抽象的”——一个对西方绘画术语的借用，但是在中国批评家和艺术家看来，这个路线的绘画是来自于“深厚的书画传统”的新的形态，既区别于西方绘画，也区别于传统绘画。栗宪庭对这个展览的主题研究文章开始于2000年，之前在很多文章里，他也表达了相似的意思。批评家与艺术家的工作表明了中国当代艺术的观念在21世纪里一定会发生明显的变化。

Pure Views是一次对使用西方材料对传统文明和气质的反思与表现的中国当代绘画的集中呈现。参加展览的艺术家的年龄跨度很大，从50年代到80年代出生的艺术家在观察、理解中国传统文明的时候，表现出感受、评价和态度的不同。事实上，作为中国艺术家，一旦将注意力和感受力放在自己的文化传统上，去发现其中的奥妙，就会创造出新的当代艺术。关注传统艺术的精神内涵的时代背景的确不同了，在一百多年前，中国知识分子对西方文明没有透彻的了解；从1978年到2000年之间，中国艺术家重新了解人类的其他文明有了充分的机会，他们通过结合西方艺术的艺术实践进行了自己有艺术史的当代实验。正如我们在前面提示的那样，渐渐地，中国艺术家开始没有偏见地、综合地吸取不同文明的资源，出现了一种明显恢复中国气质的倾向。

中国人常用“领会”、“领悟”这样的词汇来说明对一个问题的真正理解。对于我们所说的“中国气质”，又该如何去理解呢？

今天的中国人，不仅与他们的先人存在着明显差异，他们的精神状况经过了当代社会复杂因素的过滤，这样的背景决定了像陈丹青、尚扬、毛旭辉、王广义、张晓刚这些艺术家将疑问与不得已的情绪放进他们的作品里。陈丹青显然表达了对“溪山”气质的眷念，但是，他如此地将关于“溪山”的书而不是本身放进构图中，呈现出一种有感伤情绪的茫然。毛旭辉早年接受了不少西方现代主义文学家和思想家的影响，他甚至到今天也是带着强烈的悲鸣来看待现实和历史的，这样，他明显地与传统文人的风格保持了距离，可是，他的悲鸣难道与古人的那种矛盾心境没有联系吗？正如艺术家自己所说：“著名的元代画家赵孟頫(1254—1322)于公元1302年创作了这幅令我感动不已的伟大作品《水村图》，这是我最喜爱的中国山水画中的‘平远’式构图，这种形式感给人一种无限的宽广、深远和怅然之感。”这种特殊的历史精神的延续性在王广义、张晓刚的作品中能够看到，他们总是在昨天和今天之间建立批判性的分析，王广义总是以一种超越的态度去审视问题，而张说他发现了时间对于视觉判断的影响以及心理上的重要性。周春芽的作品标题是“仿夏圭《溪山清远》”，西方人可能不理解“仿”的中国含义，那就是尊重与理解，周春芽将他早就感悟到并创造的“桃花”放在夏圭的山岩景色里，不过是一种延续传统气质的当代表达。
60、70年代出生的艺术家内心没有上一代艺术家那样沉重，他们对传统文化的接受带有实验的性质。岳敏君、洪磊、何森、杨勉、赵勤的作品印下了他们各自的理解。岳敏君在“笑脸”之后用了很多时间去思考“什么是艺术”？他很快就用传统的园林来构筑“艺术的迷宫”，他关心很多前辈艺术家——几乎就是那些用传统材料和工具作画的画家，并且他热爱他们的艺术，可是，他也在思考，为什么这些画家具有独特文明特征的作品没有被认为是“当代艺术”，他用趣的安排来让我们回顾这些中国画家，并建立了新的构图秩序。当洪磊说他看到董源（宋代画家）的《溪岸图》时，有一种“像被一记重拳差点儿跌倒”的感觉，这一描述丝毫没有夸张，他对古人的图画叙事有发自内心的理解，所以也才试图在自己的描画中表现内心的隐隐不安和惊异；何森使用不同的技法去解构他理解的古代艺术，创造出一种新的美学；杨勉试图用印刷技术的CMYK术语和方法来表达文明在不断的消费中消失；而赵勤则保持了他早年的浪漫主义激情，对时间与衰败给予了感伤的回忆，这种情绪与古人非常接近。有很长的时间，方力钧将生命与天地宇宙的关系作为自己表现的重点，他购买并收藏古人的东西。他的艺术表明了对时间的认识。他给予了时间灿烂的阳光，云彩和大气是如此地浩瀚，可是，他总是将死亡明显和不明显地放进作品里，这样的态度与他在90年代上半叶非常不同。至于一直以“坏画”和空旷场景中的小人构图为人所知的曾浩，在最近也尝试着一种从头开始的简化。他似乎感觉到了绘画的简易，他很容易从古人的观点里发现自己的道理，而他却也希望找寻自己的路径。

在沈小彤、曹静平、唐可的作品里，我们可以看到古人的气质对他们的影响，沈小彤说他喜欢石涛的“平实入境”、“清浊自分”；曹静平借用陶潜的诗句以表达对《溪山行旅图》的感觉：“此中有真意，欲辩已忘言”。这样的表述非常接近中国人的习惯。唐可承认他对“宋明以来古画传达出来的幽雅气度”非常偏爱，同时相信自己在用新的方法延续这样的气质。张小涛意识到：“传统是流变的河流，似乎我们总是要回到这个河流中来。”可是，他在《向李唐致敬！》放入了自己对山水与自然的理解。

章剑对董源的平淡有认同、李青即便在马德里也讨论的是另一种“孤独”、杨勋对传统文明的理解是一团让人着迷的迷雾，所以他的园林充满着幽雅的戏剧性与文化想象；沈娜的作品看上去是在收心，她在阅读和理解中渐渐去关注历史的痕迹、罗荃木的作品不妨可以被看成是对李成的态度的尊重与再现，他甚至感受到时间的穿越导致的现实共鸣；彭斯的画有浓重的氛围，可是，已经透露出来自传统气质的感染，他也告诉我们，他已经从基督义理的爱转向了对自然的爱的理解；高伟刚使用“静修之物”来表述他要苦求的对象，可是，这样的对象在中国人看来是通过内心修炼达到的境界，而不仅仅是画面上的效果。

中国古代批评著作《格古要论》（卷上）说：“夏圭善山水，布置、皴法与马远同，但其意尚苍古而简淡。喜用秃笔，树叶间夹笔。楼阁不用尺界，画信手成，突兀奇怪，气韵尤高。”这是对夏圭的绘画艺术的评价。西方读者阅读这样的评论可能难以真正理解“苍古而简淡”或者“气韵尤高”究竟是什么意思。实际上，这不仅仅是因为不同民族的艺术历史有所不同，关键是，不同的语境、文化结构以及人文地理因素决定着不同文明的逻辑，绘画与文字一样已经是一种精神文明的凝聚，只有当我们有了这样的精神凝聚，才容易理解这个文明究竟是什么意思。而今天的中国当代艺术家开始明显有了这样的感受和要求，中国的当代绘画在经过了西方现代主义和后现代观念的洗礼后，基于自身的传统，开始有了新的出发点。

一百多年前，左拉（émile Zola，1840—1902）在讨论马奈（Edouard Manet，1832—1883）的作品时，使用了“气质”（témperament）这个词，那时，法国观众对日本和东方艺术渐渐有了新的兴趣，显然，学院派的术语很难勾勒马奈以及以后印象主义画家的新绘画。今天，我们同样能够看到不能用来自冷战意识形态或者西方后现代术语给予描述的中国新绘画，这些新绘画不同程度地显现出新的特征，需要我们从中去领悟和体会。

顺便告诉一下观众，春天通常是美好与愉快的同义词，可是夏圭时代的画家即便是描写春天的景色，也经常不是那么直截了当，并且也总是要表现出不仅仅属于春天的复杂心理感受，清风绵雨、松树柳枝在南宋文人和画家的内心唤起的往往是淡淡的忧郁，甚至是一种凄楚，所以，即便是春天，即便是美丽的西湖，我们也看不到欢快的优美而只能感受到阴郁的幽思和哀愁。

接叶巢莺，平波卷絮，断桥斜日归船。能几番游，看花又是明年。东风且伴蔷薇住，到蔷薇、春已堪怜。更凄然，万绿西泠，一抹荒烟。

当年燕子知何处，但苔深韦曲，草暗斜川。见说新愁，如今也到鸥边。无心再续笙歌梦，掩重门、浅醉闲眠。莫开帘，怕见飞花，怕听啼鹃。（张炎《高阳台》西湖春感）

一勺西湖水。渡江来、百年歌舞，百年酣醉。回首洛阳花石尽，烟渺黍离之地。更不复、新亭堕泪。簇乐红妆摇画舫，问中流击楫何人是。千古恨，几时洗。余生自负澄清志；更有谁、磻溪未遇，傅岩未起。国事如今谁依仗，衣带一江而已。便都道、江神堪恃。借问孤山林处士，但掉头笑指梅花蕊。天下事，可知矣！（文及翁《贺新郎》游西湖有感）

阅读这样的诗词当然需要历史背景，但是，只要熟悉并具备与作者相同的气质，我们就能够充分体会到作者难以言表的精神世界。理解“Pure Views”展览中的绘画作品的道理也是一样的。

2010年9月1日星期三

In 1949, the English art historian Kenneth Clark collected lectures he had given as　

Slade Professor at Oxford University into a book titled Landscape into Art. Although Clark’s aim was to explain how the everyday “scenery” we speak of became an independent genre of art, his graceful analysis ended up touching on the logos of civilization in Europe. He argued that the Greeks, who provided the source for European culture, only attached importance to human beings and not to the natural world. Not until Fracesco Petrarch (1304-1374) did European civilization grasp the pleasure that was to be found in nature. To emphasize this, Kenneth Clark even said that Petrarch “was the first person to climb a mountain just to climb a mountain. He climbed up a peak merely to survey the panorama below him.” In a work titled Landscape and Western Art (Oxford University Press, 1999), Malcom Andrews—another British professor—used a comparison of two artworks (“Little Pond House” c. 1497 and “The Virgin and the Long-Tailed Monkey” c. 1497-98), one of them possibly by Lucas Cranach (1472-1553) and the other by Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528), to discuss when exactly European artists’ views changed from “scenery” as mere setting to scenery as subject. The tradition of treating scenery as a subject to be enjoyed in paintings came to the Chinese quite early, perhaps because of their fundamental intellectual and cultural background (the philosophy and life-attitude of Laozi and Zhuangzi). If we look to the written word to understand modes of knowing the natural world, such affirmation goes even further back in time:

My roaming brings me to this spot,
　　My spirit is delighted, my mind quiet.
　　…
　　Expansive space opens for mind and spirit.
　　(Wang Suzhi, Orchid Pavilion Poems)
　　Set my sensibility loose among mountains and streams,
　　Feel time’s unfolding and forget all constraints.
　　(Wang Huizhi, Orchid Pavilion Poems)
　　Often he borrows landscape, to loosen melancholy’s knot.
　　(Sun Chuo, “Third Day Third Month Preface”, Orchid
　　Pavilion Poems)

These writings were produced a thousand years before Petrarch’s remarks in letters to friends about the pleasures of nature. If we are looking for the charms of natural scenery as depicted by painters, even if we were to skip over Wang Wei (701-761), the landscape paintings of the Five Dynasties Period (907-960) would offer plenty of evidence of the pleasures to be derived from nature.

Our emphasis here, of course, is not on a historical study of scenic landscape painting. What I hope to convey is that different civilized traditions lead to differences in art; different civilized traditions have irresistible effects upon artists; what is more, each provides ample nourishment to artists and fosters a special temperament, thereby forming unique modes of thought and perception. As we can see from the title of this exhibition, it is hard to translate the Chinese phrase xishan qingyuan into English, so we had to settle for “Pure Views”. In a strict scholarly sense, this rendering can hardly be called successful, since it covers up some of the implied meaning.

“Pure Views Remote from Streams and Mountains” is the title of a landscape painting by Xia Gui of the Southern Song period. Xia Gui’s dates are not clearly known, but he surely lived in the era of Emperor Ning (1195-1224), because he served in Emperor Ning’s Painting Academy, and there is record of him being awarded a golden belt. “Pure Views Remote from Streams and Mountains” is an important work in the history of Chinese painting. This work depicts views along a waterway in Yangtze River country: grouped peaks, vertical rock faces, lush forests, storied buildings, a long bridge, a village, a thatched pavilion, fishermen’s boats, distant sails. How is an ordinary Western viewer to compare nature as
shown in this painting with that in John Constable’s (1776-1837) scenic paintings?

Of course an art historian can look for contrasts in materials, techniques, style, and taste. However, the genuine differences come from a cultural source, from each civilization’s own tradition. If viewers lack understanding of the cultural tradition behind an art phenomenon, even on the level playing field of today’s global era, it will be hard for them truly to understand or identify with a cultural phenomenon.

Viewers may readily notice that, unlike Chinese art from recent decades, the works in this exhibition show a more uniquely traditional temperament. Most of the works in this exhibition depict nature and scenic landscapes. Erstwhile political and ideological symbols have almost completely disappeared. What is more, to a certain degree, these works reveal new kinds of ambient energy. One can see from these new forms of ambient energy that the artists are taking the initiative to seek resources in traditional Chinese culture, even though they each adopt a different angle, and their aims are dissimilar.

For Chinese intellectuals and artists, it is not as easy as one might imagine to discuss “culture” and “tradition”. Chinese intellectuals’ reflection upon their own civilization began with the Opium War. After the Chinese navy’s defeat in the 1895 Sino-Japanese War, the need to understand Western civilization became a serious proposition for most intellectuals concerned with China’s fate. Clashes of Eastern and Western, modern and traditional were continuous from then on, but once full-scale war broke out between China and Japan in 1937, artists’ views of their own civilization were no longer as dismissive as those held by some radical intellectuals of the May Fourth Period (1918-1922). Artists who had studied Western painting in France or Italy still used ink brush and rice paper to paint some of their works; what is more, they joined with traditionalists to hold refined gatherings based on ink art. 1945-1949 was a period of civil war. In Nationalist-controlled areas, each artist established his own stance—to persist in Chinese painting or in Western painting—based on his own knowledge and judgment. In the Communist-controlled area of Yan’an, artists were told that the important thing was not Western painting or Chinese painting, because in May 1942 the Communist Party leader Mao Zedong had already told intellectuals in Yan’an that literature and art should become a weapon for striking the enemy (the Japanese army and the Nationalist Party). The Party demanded that the style and taste of art should enable the uncultured masses to understand and identify with its message, in order to do a good job of propagandizing the Party’s policies and ideas. In 1949, the Communists took power, and the government’s policy on art and literature from the Yan’an period remained an imperative until 1976. During these 27 years of uninterrupted political campaigns, artists were repeatedly re-educated and required to indicate their own political stance, so that art could be made a tool of political tasks. Of course there were times when artists discussed the inheritance and upholding of traditional civilization, but these were only pretty sounding words suited to the needs of political movements. As soon as the political goal or task changed, the discussion of tradition would immediately be stopped or given a new slant. The “Cultural Revolution” which began in 1966 was a deliberate purge by Mao Zedong of his peers in the Party. In a movement of mass criticism that spread nationwide, traditional civilization was almost completely relegated to the category of “corrupt, retrograde thinking of the feudal landlord class”. Many artefacts, buildings, and works of ink art were destroyed. Not until 1978 did the Eleventh Session of the Third Plenary Assembly (of the Party Congress) change the focus from “class struggle” to “economic construction”. Only then did people gradually get the chance to resume their attempts to gain knowledge of traditional culture. From the outbreak of full-scale war in 1937 to the cruel Cultural Revolution’s end in 1976, the precious vessel of traditional civilization met with all-out calamity. Most importantly, Chinese artists lacked the intellectual setting and institutional conditions to hand down their own traditional civilization. As a result, people born in the 1940s and 1950s received practically no education in traditional civilization. For a long time it was difficult for them even to see the most basic traditional texts. Thus, the thread of spiritual connection to tradition was nearly broken.

In the 1980s, young Chinese artists began to gain a renewed understanding of Western art from libraries and exhibitions. They used Western ideas and art to view the world anew and actualize their own artistic freedom. In this period the main direct influence on them was Western Modernist art—from Impressionism to Dadaism. Such was their great disgust for previous prohibitions and their boundless longing for new art, combined with the serious lack of traditional culture in their background, that for nearly ten years China’s artists did not concern themselves with their own traditional civilization or try to understand it anew.

At the end of the 1980s, having been exposed to currents of freedom for ten years, conditions were in place for artists to learn about traditional art. This task was at first undertaken by practitioners of ink painting, who continued to use traditional tools of painting. In 1989, an exhibition named “New Literati Painting” was held in Beijing. This exhibition was ridiculed by Modernist thinkers as an example of intellectual impotence and artistic cowardice. They thought it was artistic regression. However, as time went by, more and more young artists joined the ranks of the New Literati. However, those artists who used non-traditional tools kept up their connections with Western currents. Due to certain features of the Chinese system, along with the development of a market economy and residual influence of Cold War ideology, the most suitable chances for Chinese artists to show their new work were through international exhibitions. Because the imagery in their art possessed special symbolism and temporal import, Western viewers’ gained their understanding of China by way of such artists. They became familiar with a number of Chinese artists’ names like Zhang Xiaogang, Wang Guangyi, Fang Lijun, and Yue Minjun.

Reform and opening led China to merge more fully into international society. China was thus prompted to answer the question: what was the standpoint upon which this nation and people could bring forth their own creativity? After a hundred years of learning from the West, what after all had our own civilization gained? What do we face in this present moment, and what art is relevant to it?

In 1998 the German Federalist Republic’s embassy in Beijing held an exhibition titled “In the Mirror of Tradition”. At that time, Eckhard R. Schneider remarked: “The concept of this exhibition is to show how Chinese contemporary artists are dealing with their tradition from different angles and aspects.” Works by many contemporary artists appeared in this exhibition. Zhu Qingsheng not only took part in the exhibition, as a scholar he also wrote an essay in which he prompted viewers to consider how the ancient notion of “art” in China had evolved. He went on to say, “The revisiting of ancient Chinese ideas about ‘art’ stems from a demand for modernism in our art.” Here he picked up on the fact that the development of China’s modern or contemporary art has reached the point where it needed to reflect anew on its own civilized tradition. In 2003, at China Art Project Space, the critic Li Xianting curated “Prayer Beads and Brush Strokes”. He invited a number of painters to participate who used traditional materials—developed from the New Literati—in a way which he claimed was distinct from earlier “abstract ink art”. He also claimed that abstract ink art “for the most part did not go beyond the language of Western abstraction and abstract expressionism.” Even though the works in this show, for the most part, still appeared to be “abstract”—a term borrowed from Western painting—yet in the eyes of some Chinese critics and artists, painting in this vein “is a new type that originates in the deep-founded ink art tradition. Not only is it distinct from Western painting, it is also distinct from traditional painting.” Li Xianting began writing a thematic study for this exhibition in 2000, and in several articles prior to that he had expressed similar ideas. The efforts of critics and artists indicated that contemporary Chinese art concepts in the twenty-first century would surely give rise to obvious changes.

“Pure Views” is a group presentation of contemporary paintings which employ Western materials to reflect upon and reinterpret traditional civilization and temperament. The age span of participating painters is quite large. In their observation and understanding of Chinese traditional painting these artists, born between the 1950s and 1980s, differ in perception, judgment, and attitude. In fact, as soon as a Chinese artist focuses his attention and receptivity on his own cultural tradition, once he discovers its wonders, he will begin to create new contemporary art. Certainly there is now a different temporal background for this concern with inner spiritual qualities of traditional art. A hundred years ago Chinese intellectuals did not have a thorough understanding of Western civilization. From 1978 to 2000, Chinese artists at last had adequate opportunities to understand other civilizations. By incorporating Western art into their practice, which was affected by their own pre-existing art history, they carried out a contemporary experiment. As alluded to above, Chinese artists began to absorb the resources of various traditions, synergistically and without prejudice, evincing an obvious trend—recovery of the Chinese temperament.

Chinese people often use vocabulary like linghui (“come to a realization”) and lingwu (“attaining insight”) to indicate the attainment of genuine understanding of an issue. As for the “Chinese temperament” we have been speaking of, how are we to understand it?

To say that there are obvious dissimilarities between Chinese people now and their forbears would be putting it mildly. Their spiritual state has been filtered through the complexities of modern society, and this background enables artists like artists like Chen Danqing, Shang Yang, Mao Xuhui, Wang Guangyi, and Zhang Xiaogang to convey their perplexity and mood of resignation through their works. Chen Danqing obviously expresses his nostalgia for the temperament of “streams and mountains”. However, he does this by incorporating a book about “streams and mountains” into his pictorial composition, rather than portraying the real thing, and thereby reveals sadness and a sense of loss. Mao Xuhui in his early years received influence from many modern Western thinkers and literary writers. Even now there is an intense note of sorrow in the way he views current reality and history. Thus, he keeps an obvious distance from the style of traditional literati. Yet is there not a connection between his note of sorrow and the conflicted mental
states expressed by the ancients? As the artist himself says, “The Yuan dynasty painter Zhao Mengfu (1254-1322) created the painting ‘Waterside Village’ in 1302, and it moves me endlessly. In Chinese landscape painting this is called the ‘level distance’ mode of composition. This sense of form gives the viewer a feeling of breadth, of expansiveness, and of facing something immense.” The continuity of historical spirit can be seen—in unique form—in the works of Wang Guangyi and Zhang Xiaogang. These painters tend to engage in critical analysis which counter-poses yesterday with today. Wang Guangyi always taks a dispassionate attitude in examining problems. As for Zhang Xiaogang, he has discovered time’s influence on visual judgment and its psychological importance. Zhou Chunya’s piece is titled
“After Xia Gui’s ‘Pure Views’”. Westerners may not grasp the implications this word “after” has for Chinese painters. It is a matter of honoring and comprehending. Zhou Chunya had an epiphany some time ago about the depiction of “peach blossoms”, and here he places them within Xia Gui’s scenes of mountain boulders. This contemporary treatment also amounts to an extension of traditional temperament.

The inner state of artists born between the 1960s and 1970s is not as grave as that of the abovementioned artists. Their reception of traditional culture carries an experimental quality. Works by Yue Minjun, Hong Lei, He Sen, Yang Mian, and Zhao Qin bear the stamp of personal understanding. After his “Laughing Faces”, Yue devoted a great deal of time to pondering the question: “what is art?” This led him to use a traditional walled garden to construct a “cultural labyrinth”. He admires many elder artists—almost all are painters who use traditional materials and tools. He loves their art, but he is pondering why their works, unique yet characteristic of their civilization, are not considered “contemporary art”. To let us revisit this group of Chinese painters, he arrays a variety of approaches, thereby establishing a new compositional mode. The photographer Hong Lei says that when he first saw “Stream Bank” by Dong Yuan (Song), he felt he had “received a punch that nearly bowled me over”. This description is no exaggeration: regarding composition and narrative of the ancients, he feels an understanding that comes from deep within. This is precisely why he expresses the hidden unease and amazement he feels. He Sen uses various techniques to deconstruct ancient art as he understands it, thereby creating a new aesthetic. Yang Mian tries to use CMYK terms and methods from print technology to express the disappearance of civilization amidst continuous consumption. As for Zhao Qin, who preserves the romantic passion of his early years, his responses to time and frailty are memories tinged with pathos. Such a mood is quite close to that of the ancients. For quite some time the focus of Fang Lijun’s expression has been the relation between life and the natural cosmos. He buys and collects things made by the ancients. His art highlights his understanding of time. He confers a sunlit splendor upon time; his treatments of clouds and atmosphere have a sense of immensity. Yet he always puts death into his works—in obvious or hidden ways. Such an attitude is quite different from his attitude in the first half of the 1990s. As for Zeng Hao, who has been known for his “bad paintings” and his compositions featuring little people in empty, open scenes, recently he’s been experimenting with radical simplification. He seems to have become aware of the simple ease of painting. From among the viewpoints of the ancients he can readily discover new principles and a new path for his art.

In the works of Shen Xiaotong, Cao Jingping, and Tang Ke, we can also see that the temperament of the ancients has had an influence. Shen Xiaotong says he likes Shi Tao’s “clean-lined accessibility” and “natural distinction of turbid and clear”. Cao Jingping borrows poetic lines from Tao Yuanming to express his feeling about the work “Travellers among Streams and Mountains”: “There is genuine meaning to be found in this; I wanted to expound on it but forgot the words.” This kind of statement is a traditional habit of Chinese people. Tang Ke admits that he strongly favors the “exquisite energy balance” conveyed by ancient paintings; at the same time, he believes that he is using new methods to extend this temperament. Zhang Xiaotao recognizes that “tradition is a river that changes as it flows, and it seems that eventually we return to it.” However, he injects his own understanding of landscapes and nature into his piece, “Homage to the Tang” .

Zhang Jian identifies with Dong Yuan’s detachment. Even at Madrid, Li Qing apparently is discussing a kind of solitude we might expect. Yang Xun understands tradition as a cloud of enchanting mist, so his gardens are filled with exquisite drama and cultural imagination. Shen Na in her works appears to be drawing her mental activity inward. In her reading and intellectual inquiry she has gradually shifted her concern to the traces of history. Luo Quanmu’s works can be considered a homage to Li Cheng, as well as a new manifestation. He can even feel the here-and-now resonance caused by a connection across time. Peng Si’s paintings have their own dense ambience, but by now they reveal a susceptibility to traditional temperament. He also tells us that he has moved from the Christian doctrinal meaning of love to an understanding of natural love. Gao Weigang characterizes the objects of his search as “what comes by quiet cultivation”. But such an objective, in the Chinese view, is attainment gained through inner cultivation, not merely visual effects on a painted surface.

The ancient Chinese critical work Gegu yaolun (“Essential Inquiry into the Ancients”) contains this passage: “Xia Gui excelled at landscapes. His layout and textured strokes were similar to those of Ma Yuan, but his conception emphasizes a time-worn, pared-down quality. He liked to use a very worn down brush, and he often painted leaves with angular paired strokes. For his buildings he used no ruler, preferring to do them freehand. His use of abrupt strokes was marvelous, and the resonant force was quite elevated.” This is an assessment of Xia Gui’s painterly art. Western readers of such criticism may have a hard time truly understanding what is meant by “time-worn, pared-down quality” or “elevated resonant force”. In fact, this is not merely because two ethnic groups had two different art histories. In these two contexts the crucial thing is that different cultural structures and cultural geography determine different logics for the two civilizations. Painting and the written word are crystallizations of spiritual civilization. Only when such a spiritual crystallization becomes part of us are we likely to understand meanings within that civilization. Chinese contemporary artists of the present day are clearly beginning to acknowledge such a demand. After being baptized in Western modernism and post-modernism, Chinese contemporary painting is finding a new point of departure based on its own tradition.

Over a hundred years ago Emile Zola (1840-1902) used the word ‘temperament’ in a critique of the works of Edouard Manet (1832-1883). At that time, French viewers were taking a serious interest in Japanese and oriental art for the first time. Clearly, it would have been difficult for academic terminology to characterize the new paintings of Manet and the Post-Impressionist painters. Today we likewise see new Chinese painting which cannot be described in vocabulary taken from Cold War ideology or Post-Modernism. To some extent these new paintings show new identifying characteristics, and we need to savor and develop our understanding of them on their own terms.

As a final reflection, let me remark that although one would suppose “spring” to be a synonym of “beautiful” or “pleasant”, painters of Xia Gui’s era who depicted spring no longer approached it so straightforwardly. What is more, they tended to express complex inner feelings that were not simply “spring-like”. Fresh breezes and drizzling rain, pine trees and willow boughs—in the minds of Southern Song literati and painters these things called up faint melancholy, or even a forlorn feeling. Thus even in spring, even at lovely West Lake, instead of seeing delightful beauties of nature, they only sensed gloomy introspection and sadness.

Nesting orioles among leaves, twirling floss over low swells. Homeward boat at the isthmus bridge, amid slanting rays. How many excursions are left me? You look at flowers and already next year is here. Yet the east wind dallies with briar roses. When briar roses come out, spring has a plaintive look. More forlorn than that is drizzle upon all the nuances of green, and a streak of desolate mist.

Any idea where last years’ swallows have gone? Now thick moss grows here in Weiqu, and grass overgrows a stream bank. Hearing the talk of new sorrows, I’ll be with gulls that can’t be approached. No mood to continue revels of reed-pipe and song, I close the gate and door. Nap idly at the edge of intoxication. Don’t pull aside the curtain, for fear of seeing petals fly or hearing cuckoos cry. (Zhang Yan “Gaoyang Pavilion” from Spring Feelings at West Lake) A dipperful of West Lake water. I came over the Yangtze, to a hundred years of dance and song, a hundred years of rapt intoxication. Look back toward Luoyang’s flowers among rocks, all you see are misty fields of millet.

Never to be regained. Tears fall at a new pavilion. While beauties mingle with musicians on a painted boat, I ask who will man the oars mid-water? And where is the water to wash away everlasting sorrow? In the years left I aim to achieve clarity. Who can do it for me? I have not yet come across Pan Xi[1],and Fu Yan[2] has not yet emerged. Who can be a pillar for affairs of state?

I can only wear my robe and belt along this river. Many say the river god provides a haven. I ask the hermit in a lonely mountain grove. He turns away laughing and points to the delicate heart of a plum blossom. We know how affairs of the empire go! (Wen Jiweng, “Congratulations to a Groom” from West Lake Excursion)

Of course to read poems like this requires historical background. However, if we are familiar with the poet’s temperament, and if we can possess something like it ourselves, we may experience the spiritual world to which he can only allude in words. This same principle holds true for understanding the paintings in this exhibition.

Sept. 1, 2010
 

【编辑：霍春常】

编辑：霍春常