Black and white 黑白之间


— 题记

画画时喜欢听我的瑜珈音乐,无字无韵来自海洋太空大地深处的声音,心专注于手,手专注于笔尖,心便寂静空旷,人渐渐缩小渐渐轻盈起来. 笔尖的线条愈加沉,愈加锐. 当线条,时而斩钉切铁穿插交错,纠纠缠缠不离不弃;时而迟迟疑疑松松紧紧地牵着,丝丝缕缕逶跎而下. 现代艺术的美丽就从远古的洞穴时代缓缓地流出来.我始终喜欢线条,因为它们直接单纯,响亮没有杂音.这组人体画基本上用线条说话.


人体于我, 象赤身裸体的灵魂抖掉了层层尘世的衣妆. 象罗丹的地狱之门……。我一直喜欢注视黄昏风雨中的雕塑,特别是在古旧的欧洲你时时与他们相遇.他们分明有人的造型,但是, 他们很抽象很象音乐.在夜色将近时从远古的神话中走来,切切追问那个亘古的Question: 我们从哪里来?我们到哪里去?生灵万物因着天国的想往生机勃勃,大地深处的声音奇谲瑰丽和谐优美.芸芸众生却抛不开渐渐朽坏的肉体.在生死之间犹豫不决.在冥冥混沌之地纠纠缠缠,时而象Evil时而象Angel, 灵魂,干渴的卷曲着向荒凉而遥远的内心深处伸展,.阴阳之间,天地之间地平线乌咽着渐去渐远.


Without illusion, everything is in black and white.

With my Yoga music flowing around my paintings, conducting to my fingers and tip of the brush, I feel the wordless rhyme coming deep from the sea, land and space.. My heart is open, full of peace, and the body is shrinking and lighting along with the rhyme. The tip of the brush becomes sharp and increasingly heavy.

Some time lines are tightly interpenetrated and intertwined determinedly, married to each other for better or worse. In others they are flowing and linger with hesitation , natural as vines or streams finding their way to the valley. In this way, the beauty of modern art is flowing out slowly from ancient caverns. I like lines for they are forthright and pure without any cacophony. This collection of work is basically telling stories by means of lines.

However, the tones of running ink is pouring free and wild, but with a desert and remote look. They are nonfigurative without restriction of light and shape. Actually, the shadow is not real shadow, it is just the “chi” of traditional Chinese painting. Their free vigour is the needs of the atmosphere on the picture. Form and configuration are realized by lines. Spilled ink expresses blends and the surge of water and ink nonfigurative and freely, which expresses tidal rise or decline in the heart of the artist. I can feel the surge of water and ink just like the scene in the old statues where memories are washed out and time brings great changes to the world.

As far as human figure is concerned, it is just like the soul, naked as when one is born, shaken out of garment before the Gate of the Hell in Rodian’s work…… I always enjoy the statues under wind and rain in the dusk of the evening. We meet such scenes often in classic Europe. Although they evidently have human form, they are very abstract much like music, coming from the ancient myth in the dusk of the evening and pursuing to ask that ancient question, “Where are we coming from? Where are we going?” Various creatures are spirited for their yearn for heaven, however, sounds from the depths of earth are magnificent and harmonious. Creatures can not tear themselves away from their decaying body. Wandering between life and death, they sometimes become Devils and sometimes become Angels. The soul, thirsty and dry, is wandering in its remote and desert heart of hearts. Between “Yin” and “Yang”, heaven and earth, the crying horizon goes farther and farther away……..


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