One Piece of Xuan Paper, One Plum Blossom Tree
From time to time, a light rain drifted into my studio window. The wind rattled over the pages of Astrid Lindgren’s book, Mio, My Son, where it lay on the painting table. It seemed that its warm yellow cover and the small persons on it danced with the rain trickling on the window. My memory washed down to the tip of my pen and landed on the white Xuan rice paper. At that moment, only the wind and rain shared my words. High on the studio wall hung a calligraphic work, Huaicun’s Studio, Green-shade Ville Greensward, written in Chinese by the established artist Cai Yangyan. To the right was an ink painting, Lotus Pond, by Wu Guanzhong; to the left was a landscape painting by Huang Binhong. Seeing their beautiful creations, I expressed my endless feelings on the Xuan paper with my ink pen and brush. Who could imagine that these art works witnessed our friendship, which was as pure as clear water, and illuminated the rainy night with happiness? My newly composed poems were like a few arrogant plums, proud against the frost and the snow. My freshly painted lotus seemed like a holy flower, being transparent and exuding warm light. Watching the brushes dancing on the Xuan paper, I happily wondered who created such a magical tool as a brush pen and what motivation created such a flower from my brush. Plums and lotuses on Xuan paper turned the night into a poem. I was a born poet: let the poem inspire us and let my poetry and painting inspire the world. When I pushed the window open, thoughts came into my mind one by one like a steady breeze. I thought of all the teachers I had visited since childhood, from Wu Guanzhong to Huang Yongyu, from He Jingzhi to Ke Yan, which made me grateful and joyful. The studio was silent; everything was listening to the sound of flowers blooming on the Xuan paper. My soul seemed to run in all directions, exploring the lost and forgotten friendships of the past. From my memories, I revived the city’s hustle and bustle, recorded the rise and fall of my life. I only heard the beautiful whispering of fairy tales, which at last settled down on to my canvas. I employed colourful paints to interpret the colours of my young life. In my studio, I had a plum blossom tree on a piece of Xuan paper, and a city of many memories. In my world, poetry and painting have played infinite and powerful roles and have been my hopes for the future. I have enjoyed the freedom of creating a poetic space on the simple Xuan paper. I have clearly shown my thoughts in painting the lotuses, plums, stones, trees, deer, and birds flying in the sky, in either light or dark colours. A plum tree with a faint fragrance blossomed quietly, far away. That night, my dreams bloomed on the Xuan paper.