I am still looking at this possibly compete painting.  I have not yet arranged to have it mounted.

Four of the five just-mounted paintings have just been posted to this site. I can see some minor additions needed for two of them, but will look at all of them for a while before doing anything. All of thee were painted after my Nanjing Meihua Festival visit and all but one before the Taian-Qingdao trip.
Landscapes? Still my next goal.

I continue to try to paint landscapes and continue not to be satisfied.  I am not in a hurry and in time will achieve what I want.

Following a recent trip to Japan, I read some haiku of Issa, as translated by Lucien Stryk.  I have always enjoyed Japanese literature, though less so the painting, which too frequently seems refined to the point of being slick.  For example, I like the Japanese concept of avoiding perfection in art, of leaving some element in its unrefined form so as to make the viewer aware of the medium and the working of the artist.  But all too often, I sense that the unfinished area or the “error” is itself too perfectly done.  I don’t mean that the unfinished area should be just any arbitrarily chosen area, or that it look like a result of laziness or ineptness.  But if it looks too refined, it destroys its purpose.  Anyway, I love Issa’s haiku (and that of Basho and others).

Everyone who loves meihua has to enjoy Issa’s:

“Plum in bloom–

the Gates of Hell

stay shut.”

While in Japan I arranged to have Enmanji opened so as to see its Fu Yiyao’s paintings.  (It was easy to arrange — I don’t think anyone else had ever made such a request.)  We saw the huge paintings in the main temple area and also those smaller works in the rooms in back, upstairs.  They are all beautiful.  She seems to paint at a steady pace, judging by her lines, but occasionally paints a tree or other object with a twirling line that just skips happily across some space of the painting.  It makes for a well placed change of rhythm.  Very unfortunately, the paintings at Enman Temple have been kept very poorly.  The larger works are deeply yellowed by sunlight that still continues to shine on them.  Several works have water stains that came from some leak above them.   We gave a small donation to the temple.  I wish I knew it would be applied to shading the large paintings.  I doubt it will.

Other than the humid, 93 degree Fahrenheit (34 degree Celsius) weather, it’s good to be back in Hong Kong.  We have three wonderful seasons here, and then we have summer.

The Year of the Ox just started.  Some of the oxen on decorations look like the Merrill Lynch bull, perhaps created in the hope the year will bring back the bull market.

I was skimming through Washburn and Major’s excellent World Poetry and bumped into an old friend.  Czeslaw Milosz’ poem on poetry, “Reading the Japanese Poet Issa: (1762-1826)” is for me also a poem on painting landscapes and flowers.  It includes three of Issa’s haiku.

A good world –
dew drops fall
by ones, by twos

A cuckoo calls
for me, for the mountain,
for me, for the mountain

and

In this world
we walk on the roof of Hell
gazing at flowers

I just posted four new meihua paintings to the website. Two are October works, mounted on scrolls, and two are November works that might be finished. One of the November works depicts a scroll behind the meihua, a theme I’ve used before. In the other I tried a different kind of space, one created by a mass of background flowers. I’ve also posted the final mounted versions of the two earlier works. The two mounted October works have a new seal stamped on them, one in the lower right, the other in the lower left. I chose the last three words of a fairly well-known poem by the early fifth century poet Tao Qian (Tao Yuanmning) to use as a studio name to put on all my Hong Kong paintings. The poet tells how he lives in a city but doesn’t hear horse carriages rolling by because he is focused on the mountains visible in the south. Here in Hong Kong, when I look out of the window in the room where I paint and look beyond the Wanchai district, and beyond Victoria Harbour, and beyond the Kowloon Peninsula, I see the mountains of Kowloon and feel far from urban Hong Kong. Tao’s poem ends when he offers to explain how this transportation works but then instead explains he “already forgot the words”. It’s a Daoist concept: what is most important (The Way) cannot be expressed in words. It’s also a nice concept for a non-verbal art. I decided to call this studio where I work “Already Forgot the Words Studio” 已 yi2 already / 忘 wang4 forget/ 言 yan2 words/ 室 shi4 studio. I asked the calligrapher Zhang Peng to cut a seal for me and he did a great job. I’ll try to photograph it and show it.

Seals are function as signatures, with full legal standing. Chinese companies here in Hong Kong and also on the mainland have legal seals which must be on legal documents. I have several seals with my name on them which I put on paintings, usually just below where I signed. There is an art to placing one’s signature and seal on a painting. Although I have good knowledge as to where to place them, I still prefer to consult an expert. Whenever possible, I turn to Mr. Li at Man Luen Choon, the shop in Sheung Wan where I have most works mounted these days. The most famous seal is probably that of the Emperor Qianlong (1711-1799) whose approximately 3″ x 3″ seal ruined painting after painting. Ego. His seal always occupies some central area of the paintings and consistently distracts the viewer. It’s surely the most easily noticed seal. With this note in mind, you will immediately recognize the Qianlong Emperor’s seal if it’s on any works you see in a museum or in a book. You in turn can impress someone.