Truly, Chinese characters, in their multiplicity of written forms, not only serve the purpose of conveying thought, but also exhibit, in very unique ways, the beauty of the thought they transmit. And despite a history as long as China herself, Chinese calligraphy has always been, as Chiang wrote, "a source of mystery and perplexity to Westerners."
In China, it is commonly believed that calligraphy expresses the personality, and even the appearance, of the writer. If so, the writing style of one Taipei calligrapher, Tung Yang-tzu, is an obvious exception. Her work has been considered to possess "the beauty of masculinity and strength." Yet, she is a very feminine person with a soft Shanghainese accent.
"The brush she wields has the strength of a roof rafter. Her vigor shatters banality. Her inkwash areas and whites form a delightful contrast. Is it calligraphy or is it painting? It is hard to differentiate," comments Tai Ching-nung, a respected senior critic in local calligraphic circles.
A great many Chinese art critics believe that calligraphy and painting sprang from the same root and forked at an advanced stage of development. Both calligraphy and painting employ similar techniques and make use of the same medium—ink (painting, of course, later diverged almost fully into a variety of colored media). For example, in praising the works of Wang Wei (701-761), a distinguished poet and painter of the Tang Dynasty, a Chinese critic might very well say that "his poems create paintings and his paintings create poems." There is a saying that "a calligraphic work is accomplished in a painting style and the other way round."
Pi Chen Tu (The Battle Formation of Calligraphy) by Wei Shuo, who excelled at both clerical and standard calligraphic script during the Chin Dynasty (265-420), asserts: "A horizontal line has the momentum of clouds stretching in an unbroken chain for thousands of miles; a dot, a stone falling from a lofty peak; a vertical stroke, a withered vine thousands of years old; a hooked dot, hundreds of arrows shot at one time.... "
A critic commenting on the work of Hwai Su (a Tang calligrapher, rhapsodized, "First, it looks like a light mist dancing about the top of an old and lofty pine, giving a feeling of ethereal beauty. Then, suddenly, it turns into an imposing peak, soaring into the skies.... "
Who is there who would maintain that the techniques of painting cannot be expressed in calligraphy? Then, can the techniques of calligraphy be expressed in painting?
Among the collections in the Nation al Palace Museum, in the suburbs of Taipei, there is a Yuan Dynasty painting by Chao Tzu-ang with a poem inscribed in his hand: "Stones are depicted by means of the feipai technique; wood, like the carving on a large seal. As I paint bamboo in groves, I am concerned with all eight rules." Feipai is a style of calligraphy characterized by hollow strokes, as if done with a half-dry brush.
Nevertheless, it is evident that although calligraphy is sometimes expressed very much like painting, it does not, after all, really constitute painting. Nor is it a "modified genre of painting," even though calligraphy may elevate, generalize, and also assimilate the style and features of natural art, and in doing so, mingle and converge with the writer's feelings in a twinkling. It were better said that calligraphy is, therefore, an expression of a writer's artistic accomplishment via flowing ink forms.
Tung Yang-tzu, to calligraphers who adhere tightly to tradition, has been considered a "rebel." Her work, often considered to be paintings, discards the traditional way of arranging characters—in an orderly progression on a proper paper. She has freed herself from the formidable restraints handed down from generation to generation. "I don't want to walk in the old lanes forever. Tradition is not always necessarily right. A calligraphic work should reflect the unique personality of its creator, otherwise, it is meaningless," Tung exclaims. Art should lay its stress on creativity, she believes, and since calligraphy is a branch of art, a calligrapher should not imitate the work of others his whole life. "Maybe it is all because I am bold and young enough to dare criticisms," says Tung.
In her recent Taipei exhibition, Tung chose squares of paper for her art: "It is a great challenge for me to seek the beauty of imbalance in the terribly balanced square. I like to express vigor in a confining space."
Usually, it takes her quite some time to arrange only a few Chinese characters -accomplished in different styles-on a piece of paper. "Perhaps it is because I learned painting earlier. I differ from the ordinary calligrapher because I pay so much attention to composition." Each of her written characters is meticulously designed and constructed-each work is either "an enlargement of part of a poem, or a short poem."
Although she also employs a brush as her writing tool, Tung's efforts stray from that point on from the traditional. As a result, her works are full of uniquely interesting elements. There is visible ingenuity in the thick and light ink strokes, in her densities, and in the sizing of her characters. The studied irregularity amid the general appearance of her work evokes dragons rising and tigers leaping, a scene of bustling activity.
Tung began serious practice of calligraphy by imitating the works of Yen Chen-ching (708-784), a calligraphic master of the Tang Dynasty, because Yen's forceful style suited her taste. However, she went on to free her self of Yen's stylistic influence and developed a unique style of her own.
Her various ways of expressing the swallowtail strokes in Chinese characters constitute another unique aspect of Tung's work. Traditionally, when doing lishu (clerical style), the artist faces strict requirements to depict the swallow-tails in a particular shape. However, Tung does it as if she were "careless," helping to create a liveliness and win-someness in the composition of her Chinese characters.
Lao Tzu (604-531 B.C.), the world renowned philosopher who founded Taoism, declared that, "The ingenious employment of the white areas enhances the prominence of the ink areas." And in all the centuries since, when looking over and appreciating a calligraphic work, the experienced viewer pays a great deal of attention to how the writer handles the whites.
Tung is very aware of this concept and does not even randomly affix her signature to her works, but is careful to preserve the inherent beauty of the white areas so as to assure the artistic completeness of their composition. "Since my style already is so far from the traditional, only when I feel it is necessary do I write my name with the brush. Otherwise, I only use my seal," Tung noted.
Critics say that what she wields in her hand is not a brush, but a sword. In whatever case, it is by no means easy. She has journeyed arduously to enjoy her achievements among calligraphic circles on this island. Now 42, she moved to Taiwan with her parents from Shanghai in 1953. When she was nine years old, her father required her and her brother to do 100 small calligraphic characters and 200 large-sized characters daily just as summer vacation homework. "In the beginning, it was painful," Tung recalls, "not to mention writing 300 characters. Even rubbing the ink stick would take half a day. At the time, we had no TV, and sometimes we did our homework listening to radio dramas. Usually, we were in a play-like mood when we finally finished the painful job. And then father would correct our calligraphic work at the end of each week."
She believes now that perseverance is the most important guarantee of becoming a "good hand," that three or five years of practice is not enough: "It has to be a life-time career," and if one is really unable to appreciate the quintessence of calligraphy, it will not really be possible to discipline one's artistic temperament through the Chinese art.
Tung learned Chinese painting while she was a high school student and continued her painting studies at Taiwan Normal University. She later studied oil painting at the University of Massachusetts. Then, although her father now expected her to study interior design, she surprised him and chose to devote herself to calligraphy. She is certain that she made the right decision.
"I still remember that wonderful day when I sent my first piece to be mounted at a shop. The owner took it for an old man's work ... it is not for a female to write such characters, full of vigor," Tung smiled. Then she quipped, "Isn't it true that Grandmother Moses painted like a child?"