Reflections of Classical Gardens

Gao Shiming

One

Although we have both taught at the China Academy of Art for quite a few years, it is only relatively recently that I have come to know Zheng Li well. The first time we met in person was in 2008, when Xu Longsen flew to Hangzhou from Beijing especially to introduce us. Xu had already told me that of all the active shanshui[1] painters he knew, Zheng Li was the one whose skill he admired most. At that time, my own focus of interest was almost exclusively contemporary art. Even though I had always had a certain admiration for shanshui painting, I viewed it more as a kind of artistic Weltanschauung, a representation of a particular world view manifest in the majestic landscapes of the Five Dynasties and Northern Song periods, and as such as an art form that had never really moved on from that point. As a result, I generally kept a respectful distance from contemporary shanshui art; and when it came to the subgenre of garden paintings, I was even more critically averse.

Prior to meeting Zheng Li, I had never seen his actual works, and only had a vague impression from having come across some reproductions of his paintings in various publications. Despite our having been colleagues for years, it took a friend from outside the university to introduce us, and I must admit that we both felt a little awkward at that first meeting. Later that evening, we all ended up at Zheng Li’s studio, where we talked late into the night. And that was the first time I ever entered into the world of Zheng Li’s art.

When I arrived at Zheng’s studio, the first thing I saw was his monumental painting Pure as Snow, hanging on the wall at the corner of the room. The startlingly realistic, life-size composition made me feel like I could walk right into it. When I moved closer to the painting to examine it more closely, I could only gape in amazement at the superb brushwork. At first what most impressed me was the deft gongbi (fine line) style brushwork. A more careful examination revealed both a high level of refinement and delicacy in the compositional details, and a masterful use of inkplay. While the architectural elements were rendered with an understated literati elegance, in painting the natural elements—mountains and rocks, grass and trees—Zheng Li’s brushwork was fluid and vibrant, full of energy and power, the ink moist and glistening, the strokes unrestrained yet solid and sure. Taken in its entirety, there was absolutely nothing stale or cliché about this painting: it was at once both understated and powerful, refined and exuberant, precise and untrammelled.

That night, being so deeply impressed by Zheng Li’s Pure as Snow, I found myself apologizing to him for my past indifference and misunderstanding. In the past, when I had only seen reproductions of Zheng Li’s paintings, my impression was that they showed an over-reliance on technique, and the power of their craftsmanship overwhelmed any sense of inner vitality or stylistic uniqueness, but now I understood that I was wrong. I remember how during our first meeting Zheng Li and I talked far into the night about everything from the methodologies of shanshui art, to the significance of brushplay, to the principles of connoisseurship; we also discussed how many contemporary painters too often are ‘infatuated with technique’ and ‘obsessed with theory’, and touched on the special characteristics of Tang painting. We both felt enriched by our frank discussion, and since that time we have been good friends.

The only problem is that over the last couple of years I’ve become so overwhelmed with my professional commitments that I hardly ever have time these days for leisurely conversations. Zheng Li, on the other hand, still very much lives the the unfettered life of an artist, roaming at will, sleeping by day and painting by night. And yet every year, when I have to make the rounds at the academy for the year-end academic reviews, I look forward to my visit to Ink Painting Department where I am inevitably impressed by the way Zheng Li conducts his class in the techniques of Song and Yuan shanshui painting: his teaching style is energetic and inspiring, and its effectiveness is revealed in the deep understanding of shanshui art that he instills in his students.

When I talk about Zheng Li with friends, we all agree that he is a genius at ‘court-style painting’ in the Song manner. This is not only because of the great skill and charm of his brushwork, which is infused with the aristocratic elegance achieved by the imperial painters, but also because of his masterly skill in sketching from nature. Zheng Li is able to capture both the forms of the natural scenery and the objects within it with a meticulous accuracy that is distinguished by a great delicacy of detail and a truly painterly touch. At the same time, he creates organic compositions in which aura and artistic vision are deeply integrated into the landscape scene. Zheng Li first shot to fame with a series of garden-themed paintings, of which Aura of the Literati is a representative example. In this series of works he weaves together a tapestry of wind and rain, grasses and flowers, rocks and bamboo, dew-covered mosses. Entering into the world of his small, self-contained gardens, one experiences a sensation of deep quietude and otherworldly serenity that soothes the spirit.

In the process of studying Zheng Li’s paintings, I have come to an understanding of what makes his stylistic approach so unique: first, he is able to achieve an organic integration of the techniques of gongbi and expressive freestyle brushwork (xieyi); and second, the objective, emotional and intentional realms in his paintings are indivisible. The stylistic distinction between gongbi and xieyi brush painting has been recognized since ancient times, but by now this distinction has become so absolute that the difference in technique is viewed as a difference in genre──a view which constitutes both a conceptualization and simplification of these two approaches. It is helpful here to examine two masterworks of Song-period landscape painting: Snowy Bamboo (Xuezhu) attributed to the 10^th-century painter Xu Xi, and Early Spring (Zaochun) by Northern Song painter Guo Xi. In Snowy Bamboo, we can see not only how the expressiveness of xieyi painting is achieved through quick, spontaneous strokes, but also how it is manifested within the framework of meticulous painterly craft: both of these aspects add to the powerful compositional effect within the field of the scroll. As for Early Spring, there has already been so much written in the literature about the artistic conception and xieyi brushwork technique in this painting that there is no need to go into it here: suffice it to say that although the brushwork in Snowy Bamboo is not as vigorous or fluid as that of Early Spring, yet the rightness of the forms and the expressiveness of the painter’s articulation of even the most subtle details of the winter scene, are such that the entire scroll is suffused with the tangible sensation of a snowy day: the frosty air, the dusky winter light and the utter stillness of the atmosphere. Snowy Bamboo is not depicting a grand cosmological structure, yet by focusing so attentively on a small corner of the natural landscape, the painter creates a poetic realm which encapsulates the spiritual profundity of the cosmos, in the same way that a tiny drop of water can reflect the entirety of a world. In Zheng Li’s paintings, we can find this same level of integration of spontaneous expressiveness, painterly craft and poetic profundity.

The aesthetic notions of ‘objective realm’ and ‘intentional realm’ were identified long ago in traditional poetry and painting theory. Tang-dynasty poet Wang Changling wrote that ‘There are three realms in poetry: the realm of objects (wujing), the realm of emotions (qingjing), and the realm of idea (yijing).’ Further describing these three realms, Wang stated that one must ‘Experience the object realm within the body, view the realm in the mind, then exert thought to capture the images in the realm; [To achieve the emotional realm], emotions inspired by the landscape must be arrayed in the mind and lodged in the body, then absorbed into the imagination: then one will profoundly attain the expression of emotion; [As regards the idea realm], array both objects and emotions in one’s thoughts, and then contemplate them in the mind: in this way one will achieve the expression of their true essence.’

Wang Changling laid out these three principles as a means of analyzing the profound subtleties of poetry. In Zheng Li’s paintings, his consummate skill in capturing the details of a scene with life-like accuracy is balanced by the artistic intention that arises in the mind. His gardens are conjured into being through a fusion of ‘object, emotion, and idea’: they are both concrete and luminous, tangible and spectral. Two paintings that exemplify these qualities are Zheng Li’s Jade Tree in a Breeze (Yushu linfeng) and ‘Wind in Pines amid Myriad Valleys’ in Miniature (Xiao wanhe songfeng). Although the latter work was painted while the artist was living in Paris, it is infused with the aura of mountains and forests, drawing the viewer deep into the landscape where one can tangibly feel the integrated realm of object-emotion-idea. In Jade Tree in a Breeze, the brushplay is brilliant, with the dark moistness of the ink countered by the strength and vigour of the strokes: here the artist uses an untrammelled wildness to achieve an effect of delicate beauty. The transformative power of Zheng Li’s brushwork in this painting is equal to that of the Yuan masters. And although the subject of the composition consists of nothing more than a single tree and a rock, yet there is an aura of eternity and boundlessness, as though this scene encapsulates an entire world. In this way, this painting is a direct expression of the Song poetic realm.

Two

Zheng Li’s most recent work, Reflections of The Classical Garden, in one sense can be viewed as the sister of his earlier painting, Pure as Snow; yet in the compositional arrangement of Reflections of The Classical Garden we find something completely new. The foreground of the painting is relatively sparse, containing only a Taihu rock, a single bamboo tree, and some grasses and flowers. The focal point of the panting is a white wall in the middle ground, and at first glance the composition feels a little stark and empty. Yet looking more closely, one finds that the wall appears to glow with a kind of gentle spring radiance, a sense of light and freshness that almost seems to emanate from the material of the painting itself. Inserted into the wall is a window, and through it one can catch a glimpse of an interior garden that presents an enticing scene of otherworldly charm. The title of this painting references a poem by the Song-dynasty poet-painter Su Dongpo, quoted in full below:

‘To the Tune Yongyu le (Joy of Eternal Union)–Lodging at Swallow Tower by night, written upon waking from a dream of Panpan’

The moon is bright and pure as frost, the breeze limpid as water,
The scenery spreads out before me.
Within the winding brook fish leap, and dewdrops roll across the round lotus leaves,
Yet there is no one here to witness my solitude.
The third drum sounds in the night, and the loud crackle of a falling leaf
Startles me awake from a lingering, cloudy dream.
Vast and dark is the night, all seeking is in vain,
And In my wakefulness I pace the garden aimlessly.

I’m but a weary traveller at the end of the world, and though the tracks of the old path through the mountains are still there,
I fear I may never again see the gardens of my home, held deep in my mind’s eye.
The Swallow Tower is deserted, where could the fair lady be?
The swallows are locked away in the empty tower in vain.
The past and the present both seem like a dream; yet when will we ever wake?              There are only past joys and new sorrows.
Some future time, when others view this night scene from the Yellow Tower,
They will lament and heave a sigh for me.

The layered emotions in Su Dongpo’s poem are deeply moving: the poetic mood is solemn, enigmatic, and illusionary, expressing the poet’s state of mind as he wanders through the scenery, lost in melancholy. By contrast, Zheng Li leads a happy, carefree life: unlike the figure in Su Dongpo’s poem, he is no ‘weary wanderer at the edge of the world’ and has no need to seek ‘the tracks of the old path through the mountains’. For this reason, it would be impossible for Zheng Li’s painting to echo the sense of desolation and melancholy of Su Dongpo’s poem. What Zheng Li wants to express is the classical garden in his mind’s eye, rather than the loss of it.

Only a single wall separates the viewer from Zheng Li’s garden; through the small window we can discern the garden’s enticing, mysterious beauty, and the harmonious layout of plants and trees, pagodas and terraces, ponds and pavilions. In the chapter ‘Shensi’ (‘Spiritual Thought’) in the sixth-century treatise on literary aesthetics Wenxin Diaolong (The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons), the scholar Liu Xie wrote: ‘It is easy to have extraordinary ideas when one can roam in the realm of imagination, but difficult to achieve ingenious effects when bound by rigid details’. But through his unique inkplay Zheng Li is able to achieve both the ambiguousness of the marvelous and the concrete details of the real. For Zheng Li, the garden appeals not only as a subject for painting, but also as a realm where his spirit finds space to roam. While the garden scenes that Zheng Li conjures with his brush and ink have a strong element of realism in their meticulously rendered detail and beautiful delineations of structure and form, at the same time there is always an ineffable sense of illusion: It is as though the ‘classical garden’ he is depicting can truly be apprehended only through the mind’s eye.

This element of illusion is especially pronounced in the painting Garden Dream, but it also is discernible in other works such as Aura of the Literati and Pure as Snow, which evince a kind of mysterious, twilit aura, and a sense of a lingering presence. In his more recent paintings depicting scenes of real-life gardens, such as Suzhou’s Lingering Garden and The Humble Administrator’s Garden，Zheng Li’s brushwork displays a more vigorous, kinetic quality, yet at the same time his compositions are still suffused with that tranquil, hesternal atmosphere. The forms and contours of the pavilions and walkways, courtyards and flowers, stones and trees, seem somehow to shift and change subtly, so that it is difficult to pin them down, or bring them into a fixed focus: the effect is like the moon reflected in water, or a flower reflected in a mirror. Objects seem to appear and fade within the flow of artistic intention and the changing trajectories of the mind’s eye.

The myriad things of this world flow past us like water, and in our dreams the illusory is as tangible as the real. Time is experienced within the inner vision of the artist. As Zheng Li’s gardens emerge from the flow of time, their linked verandas, winding pathways, and elegant rocks glimmering in the shade, all invite us to linger in these captured moments. Although these are essentially depictions of real gardens, entering into Zheng Li’s compositions one experiences many unexpected encounters, and discovers that the familiar scenes and objects are now imbued with a sense of enigma and transformation within the crepuscular atmosphere. These realms and these object-forms that so gracefully inhabit the painting surface are also manifestations of time’s duality, of coming into being and passing away. Within the realm of the mind’s eye, the beguiling ambiguity of object-forms is illuminated, but of course, what is also illuminated is the shimmering presence of times past, lingering on in the classical garden.

Written on Qingming Festival, 2017

(Translation by Valerie C. Doran)

[1] Shanshui, literally meaning ‘mountains and water’, is the term used for Chinese brush-and-ink landscape painting—Trans.

《望斷故園心眼》

高士明

一

雖然同在國美教書，我認識鄭力兄卻是近些年的事。

第一次見鄭力是在二零零八年，徐龍森特意從北京飛來做引薦，稱許鄭力是他當世山水畫技最欽服之人。我那時的工作主要限於所謂當代藝術，雖對山水一往情深，但心儀山水的原因是將其作為「世界觀的藝術」，一味留連於五代北宋的宏大山川，對當代山水畫界敬而遠之，於諸多園林化的山水更是多有腹誹。鄭力的畫我當時尚未得見原作，只從印刷品上約略有些印象。同事多年，卻要校外友人介紹相識，見面多少有些尷尬。當晚直奔畫室，一夜神聊，才真正走進鄭力的世界。

一進畫室就看到那件《晴雪》，尺幅夠大，挂在牆角，仿佛可以踏足其中。湊近細看，筆墨之精當令人嘆為觀止。此畫遠觀工謹之極，細品則可見其意淡筆真，於一切細微處皆有高度控制力。鄭力畫建筑筆致內斂，鋒含沈靜，意態從容，溫文爾雅；畫山石草木則運筆流麗鮮活，用墨秀潤儒糯，清勁瀟洒，痛快沉著。通觀全幅，仿若筆筆有其來歷，細察之卻又無跡可尋，處處自在和諧，全無刻板老朽之氣；可謂剛柔並濟，文質彬彬，氣韻流轉，生意盎然。

記得那日賞罷《晴雪》，我向鄭力兄鄭重道歉，為了以往的忽視與誤判。以前看印刷品，總以為他的畫過於依賴制作，匠氣有余而氣息韻致不足，此刻方知其本來面目。記得那日一夕長談，於山水之法、筆墨之意、賞鑒之道均有涉及，談到當世諸君「傷於技」、「傷於理」之流弊，言及唐人「空勾無皴」之真義，皆能放懷直言，各自感到收獲滿滿。我與鄭力由是訂交。這些年我終日營營碌碌，苦不堪言，鄭力則是標准的逍遙派，過著白天睡覺、夜間作畫的神仙日子，大家聚首的次數也就屈指可數。只是每逢歲末教學檢查，轉到國畫系，時常看到他教授的山水臨摹課程，知道他教學於實處用力，學生對宋元繪畫體會甚深。

跟朋友們談起鄭力，都說他是天生的「院體畫家」。這不但因其筆精墨妙，出手即有富貴氣，得金馬玉堂之相，更是由於他作畫長於寫生揣意，猶擅運情摹景，能為極盡精微之事。鄭力揚名立萬，靠的是《書香門第》為代表的一系列園林主題的作品。在這個系列中，他綴風月，弄花草，務求工致妍美，令人不知覺間如臨春日水濱，華服冶游，眼前所見皆窮妍極態，彩麗競繁。然則鄭力於典麗妍美之外，亦多作秀石修篁、漏雨蒼苔，其畫面中營構起的一座座小園，頗得園林「深靜」之旨，其幽獨清寂之境，亦足以搖曳性情。

觀摹鄭力的作品，我從中得到兩點體會：其一是工筆意筆不可分離；其二是情境意興不可分離。

工筆意筆之分野古已有之，在近世逐漸被絕對化，由技法之分轉而成為類型之別，這背后是對二者的概念化和簡化。細讀兩宋名作如《雪竹》、《早春》，當知中國畫之寫意精神不獨貫徹於意筆草草之際，同時也體現在巧密工致、極盡精微的畫卷之中。《早春》之意境和寫意筆法論者紛紜，此處不提；《雪竹》雖不似《早春》般用筆潑辣多姿，然而其狀物之精當，作風之謹嚴，卻使雪意彌漫全紙，幽寒之氣滲透入每一毫厘之間。《雪竹》雖非宇宙論式的宏章巨構，卻能自一處尋常角落中示現出天地之意境精神，恰如一滴水中適足映照出整個世界。

至於情境與意興之分，詩論、畫論中亦古已有之。王昌齡倡「詩有三境」:一曰物境，二曰情境，三曰意境。物境指「處身於境，視境於心，瑩然掌中，然後用思，了然境象，故得形似」；情境指「張於意而處於身，然後馳思，深得其情」，意境則「張之於意而思之於心，則得其真矣」。王昌齡將此「三境」強為次第，其旨在於解析詩境之微妙處。鄭力作畫則首重指事造形，妙在窮情寫物，其畫意本乎實境，筆致發自性情，一旦筆墨做到澄湛精微，則興象意境亦皆在其中──所謂意與境會，興與情偕，是故情境意興不可分離，「物、情、意」三境一體興會生發。

此中佳作是所謂《玉樹臨風》和《萬壑松風》，后者雖是客居巴黎時所做，畫卷中卻頗具山林氣，令人感物興情，窺谷忘返。《玉樹臨風》筆墨蒼潤，含剛勁於婀娜，化老辣為嫵媚，其神變之處，不讓元人。畫中雖僅一樹一石，卻蒼蒼茫茫，氣象萬千，卓然自成世界，其氤氳鴻漠之處，直達宋畫之意境。

二

鄭力兄最新創作的《故園心眼》，可以說是《晴雪》的姊妹篇。此畫經營布置別出心裁。前景只有湖石一塊，修篁一杆，花草數株，畫面主體是一堵白牆，粗看去只覺畫面甚空，細端詳則隱約可見春光盈壁，綠意滿紙。白壁上開一花窗狀如卷冊，透過花窗，但見庭院深深，別有洞天。

這件畫作的題目取自蘇軾那首著名的《永遇樂》。

明月如霜，好風如水，清景無限。

曲港跳魚，圓荷瀉露，寂寞無人見。

紞如三鼓，鏗然一葉，黯黯夢雲驚斷。

夜茫茫，重尋無處，覺來小園行遍。

天涯倦客，山中歸路，望斷故園心眼。

燕子樓空，佳人何在，空鎖樓中燕。

古今如夢，何曾夢覺，但有舊歡新怨。

異時對，黃樓夜景，為余浩嘆。

蘇東坡這首詞層層生發，一唱三嘆；其意境清幽空幻，低徊譴惓，令人蕩氣回腸，又黯然惆悵。鄭力兄生活美滿如意，既非「天涯倦客」，又不必尋「山中歸路」，自不會應和到東坡詞中之悵惘與寂寥。沒有神傷，這「故園心眼」當然也就難得「望斷」。鄭力所欲描摹刻畫者，只在「故園」。

鄭力的「故園」與觀者亦只有一牆之隔。畫中小窗內庭園清幽，草木、樓台、池榭……處處布置謹嚴；疊石疏泉，丘園林壑，其顯露隱含，應答因借，皆能深入其理，曲盡其態。劉勰論神思曰：「意翻空而易奇，言征實而難巧」，鄭力作畫則是「筆征實而愈巧」。其行筆運墨於蒼中蘊秀，又於秀中得蒼，秀潤蒼雄統而為一，故勁拔蒼潤，筆筆落在實處；物象與筆墨間不一不異，不即不離，其形容貌色本乎實情，合乎法度，卻又活潑靈動，清麗雅正。故其畫雖筆工境實，卻意興盎然，情韻不失。

園林之於鄭力，不單是他最歡喜的畫題，更是其精神徜徉之空間，心懷羈絆之所在。鄭力筆下的園林庭院，雖對景寫生，取境務實，指事造形亦工，畫中卻常有一種難言的虛幻感。蓋因其所追摹者，乃是「故園」，此「故園」，惟「心眼」可見。不獨《游園驚夢》中有刻意為之的幻影，亦實亦虛的洞簫，即使在《書香門第》和《晴雪》之中，亦有一份絲絲縷縷的幽悠之情。他近來畫於金卡紙上的幾楨留園、拙政園寫生，更是在筆墨鮮活潑辣之餘，呈現一種時光流逝中的清靜虛曠。畫中回廊屋舍，庭間花樹竹石，皆恍惚變幻，難以定格。其微妙處婉約依稀，若即若離，如水中之月、鏡中之花，隨心境起伏而興沒。

世間萬事如流水，夢裡真真語真幻，對時間的體悟即是畫者之「心眼」。這時間流逝中的故園，連廊曲徑，似往已返，秀石嘉蔭，如幽匪藏。雖是源自對景寫生，其畫面生發之際，卻有著眾多不期而然的遇合。隱約間物與境化，依稀中氤氳明滅。此境此象，於盈盈尺素間，示現氣象的即時生滅，於一方心眼中，照見物象的扑朔迷離，當然，也照見留連於故園中的好時光。

丁酉清明急就