What do we really know
about traditional Chinese art? It could inform our painting in exciting ways.
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Lotus Flowers, After
Zhang Lu, c. 1701, courtesy the British Museum.
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Chinese painting principles rest on the philosophical
tradition of Taoism. The
Tao is an intuitive, experiential understanding of life. It emphasizes the weak
over the strong, the feminine over the masculine, the water that wears down the
rock, the space between things rather than the things themselves.
Taoism advocates “attaining the limit of empty space,
retaining extreme stillness,” wrote the ancient Chinese philosopher Laozi. Space is the “fasting of
the heart,” wrote Master Zhuang.
Empty space is, in Taoism, “the beginning of the myriad things.” That makes it foundational.
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A hanging scroll painted
by Ma Lin on or before 1246. Ink and color on silk, courtesy National
Palace Museum, Beijing.
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Traditional Chinese painting treated empty space as solid
space. “Knowing the white, retaining the black, it is the form of the world,”
wrote Laozi. White in Chinese painting signifies
emptiness. Black means solidity. In Chinese calligraphy, empty space is called
‘designing the white’.
In Chinese art, empty space is expected to convey
information through its very lack of imagery. The sizes and contours of the empty
shapes create rhythm and unity. The solid shapes give meaning to the empty, and
vice-versa.
Those empty spaces often represent cloud, mist, sky, water
or smoke, depending on the cues in the solid forms surrounding them. Of course,
those so-called empty spaces are full of life and action in real life as well. Chinese
painting acknowledges this. That energy in the emptiness is called qi.
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Loquats and Mountain Bird,
Chinese painting, album leaf, colors on silk, courtesy National Palace Museum,
Beijing.
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Whenever I see disparate cultures reaching the same
conclusion, I’m inclined to think it’s a soul tie of the deepest order. It’s
interesting to ponder the relationship between qi and the Hebrew נִשְׁמַת חַיִּים (nishmat chayyim) or רוּחַ (ruach).
Without qi,
empty space is the same as blank space. Qi is
the principle of life in painting. If it’s not there, a painting will be
lifeless. Qi comes from the
artist’s soul. It is a result of the interaction between the artist and the
object he or she is painting. When qi is
still, a painting is tranquil; when qi moves,
a painting is lively.
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Making Farewells, Shen
Zhou, 15th century, courtesy Shanghai Museum.
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The 20th century murdered much of this tradition. Since the
Chinese cultural revolution, artists have worked around Mao’s dictum that “art
should serve the masses.” Traditional forms and ideas were out; artists were
persecuted and suppressed. Chinese philosophies were replaced by
one-size-fits-all Communism. And Chinese painting dropped its historic roots
and adopted western realism.
In western art, empty space has a place in the canon of
graphic design, but not in painting. “Painting the void” in 20th
century western painting was about destruction, not about emptiness. We are a
people of loud bangs, not silence.
One exception to this was the abstract expressionist Ad Reinhart, who took
the time to study Chinese concepts in painting. I think I will join him, in my
desultory way. There’s much to be learned about the power of emptiness.
Self-portrait, graphite, approx. 18X24, 2007
Sandy’s parents’ restaurant interior, graphite, approx. 18X24, 2008 
Gail as Isabella with the pot of Basil, oil on canvas, approx. 18X24, 2008 
Classroom window molding, graphite, approx. 18X24, 
