Subtle Reflections in Ink Wash
水墨暗思量
我不喜欢“中国画”这个概念，我觉得画种的归类缘于某种特定材质的使用是理论上的误区。
世界的大多数画家都在画油画，但他们的作品不会被称作“尼德兰画”。我的北欧艺术家同行经常使用宣纸和中国墨水创作，但谁也不会把他们的作品归类到“中国画”的范畴之内。
所以, 我更倾向于把“中国画”称为“水墨画”。
在我的学生时代，就从来不把中国人的绘画经验做为我唯一奉行的经典, 所以当我步入世界其他门类的艺术时，我不曾有任何心理上的障碍。假如我喜欢, 我愿意使用任何材料进行创作。
I don’t like the term “Chinese painting.” I believe that categorizing a genre of painting based solely on the materials used is a theoretical misunderstanding.
Most painters around the world work with oil paint, yet their works are never labeled as “Netherlandish painting.” My Nordic artist colleagues often use xuan paper and Chinese ink in their creations, but no one would classify their work as “Chinese painting.”
That’s why I prefer to refer to it simply as “ink painting.”
Even during my student years, I never treated Chinese painting traditions as the only canon to follow. So when I entered other branches of global art, I experienced no psychological barriers. If I like something, I’m willing to use any material to create.
我父亲喜欢画山水画，家里备着笔墨纸砚，所以在我很小的时候就接触水墨画了。后来在朝阳市的红卫中学遇到了犹如先知一般的陈升老师。陈升老师多才多艺，在那样的一个没有战争但却是动乱的年代，他在学校成立了美术班, 对我来说美术班就是一个最好的避风港，不然。在逃课的那段漫长时间里，我还真不知道应该去哪里。我哥哥在下乡之前就在同一个美术班学习绘画,。当时的铅笔、钢笔速写和水墨画就是我们最初学习和接触到的艺术门类。
我平生几乎从来没写过作业，直到现在，任何一份填写表格的过程都是令我难忘的“呕心沥血”的噩梦。
My father loved painting landscapes, so our home was always stocked with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. That meant I was exposed to ink painting from a very young age. Later, at Hongwei Middle School in Chaoyang, I encountered a teacher who was like a prophet to me—Mr. Chen Sheng. He was a multi-talented man. In that era, which was free of war but full of chaos, he founded an art class at the school. For me, that class became a safe haven. Without it, I honestly wouldn’t have known where to go during those long stretches when I was skipping other classes.
My older brother had also studied painting in the same art class before he was sent to the countryside. Back then, pencil sketches, ink drawings, and pen-and-ink sketches were the very first forms of art we learned and came into contact with.
Throughout my life, I’ve almost never done homework. Even now, filling out any kind of form remains a torturous, “soul-draining” ordeal I’ll never forget.
鲁迅美术学附中的课程比较杂，当然也少不了水墨画，我的毕业创作的题材就是一群大连造船厂的工人。他们站在一艘大船的前面，手里提着油漆桶和刷子，他们看起来好像刚刚给轮船涂上了新的颜色。
附中毕业之后, 有关我应该报考什么专业的问题，我征求了一位我非常尊敬的老学长的建议，他的名字叫张力。他毫不犹豫地用纯正的北京话回答我：“国画系“。他本人就是老七七级的学生，显然, 他对自己正在学习的专业比较满意。
我第一次在梦中笑醒，就是在我得到鲁迅美术学院国画系录取通知书的那天晚上。
The curriculum at the affiliated high school of Lu Xun Academy of Fine Arts was quite diverse—and of course, ink painting was an essential part of it. For my graduation project, I chose a subject based on workers at the Dalian Shipyard. They were standing in front of a massive vessel, holding paint buckets and brushes. It looked as though they had just finished applying a fresh coat of paint to the ship.
After graduating from the affiliated school, I wasn’t sure which department I should apply to, so I consulted an older classmate I deeply respected—his name was Zhang Li. Without hesitation, he replied in his impeccable Beijing accent: “Chinese Painting Department.” He was a student from the renowned Class of ’77 and clearly very satisfied with the program he was in.
The first time I ever woke up from a dream laughing was the night I received my acceptance letter to the Chinese Painting Department at Lu Xun Academy of Fine Arts.
不知道是什么理由，德高望重的许勇老师从来不曾给我们班上过课，尽管如此，许勇老师对我的影响仍是最大的。在我的学生时代, 许勇老师把他的工作室变成了我上课的教室。把自己的家变成了我学习艺术的殿堂。
在鲁美的日子，我发现了一个奇怪的现象：有音乐天赋的同学通常都有较好的外语成绩和色彩感觉，我不知道它们彼此之间有何关联。
这显然不是我所研究的方向了。中国的某医科大学创办了美术学院，这个问题很可能会在他们那里得到合理的解释。
For reasons I still don’t know, the highly respected Professor Xu Yong never actually taught our class—yet he remains the person who influenced me most. During my student years, he turned his studio into my personal classroom, and his home became a sanctuary where I truly learned the essence of art.
During my time at Lu Xun Academy, I noticed something curious: students who had musical talent often also excelled in foreign languages and had a strong sense of color. I still don’t know what the connection is between those abilities.
Of course, that’s not exactly within the scope of my own research. But since a certain medical university in China has now founded a fine arts school, perhaps they’ll be able to offer a proper explanation.
我的水墨画《母亲》就是在许老师的工作室里完成的，我曾试着用这张近两米高的大画去参加全国第六届国画作品展，但是作品很快被国画评委会退了回来，被拒绝的原因是我的作品不是国画。但是，我也不可能把画送到油画作品展参展，因为《母亲》的确是在宣纸上用中国墨汁完成的作品。
那是一幅草原母亲与孩子的亲情画像，我曾利用一个假期，一个人去了西乌珠穆沁旗和东乌珠穆沁旗。在草原深处，我感受到了蒙古族文化的博大与厚重。
后来，作品《母亲》入选在中国美术馆举办的“国际青年作品展”，并且还获得了铜奖。
My ink painting Mother was completed in Professor Xu’s studio. I once tried submitting this nearly two-meter-tall piece to the 6th National Exhibition of Chinese Painting, but it was promptly returned by the jury. The reason? They said it wasn’t a “Chinese painting.”
But I couldn’t submit it to the oil painting section either—because Mother was clearly painted with Chinese ink on xuanpaper.
The painting depicts the emotional bond between a mother and child on the grasslands. During one holiday, I traveled alone to Xiwuzhumuqin and Dongwuzhumuqin Banners. Deep in the grasslands, I felt the vastness and profound depth of Mongolian culture.
Later, Mother was selected for the International Youth Art Exhibition held at the National Art Museum of China—and it was awarded the Bronze Prize.
在版画系任教的顾莲塘老师是许老师的好朋友，他们都曾在一起合作过连环画《嘎达梅林》和《白求恩》，顾老师经常到许老师的工作室里来，与这样两位优秀的老师在一起，仅听他们两个人之间的谈话，就能使我学到很多东西。
许勇老师在生活上就不是一个循规蹈矩的人，他的‘国画’当然也不是我们常见的样式，我非常骄傲能做他的学生，也非常荣幸在我的学生时代就与许老师有过共同创作的经历。
临近毕业的时, 我知道国画系不会留我, 于是，通过北京的一位朋友介绍，深圳一家广告公司给我发来了做艺术总监的聘书，那时候, 深圳的经济刚刚起步, 那未知的南方对我充满了相当大的诱惑。
Professor Gu Liantang, who taught in the Printmaking Department, was a close friend of Professor Xu Yong. They had collaborated on illustrated works such as Gada Meilin and Norman Bethune. Gu often visited Xu’s studio, and simply listening to their conversations was, for me, a valuable form of education.
Professor Xu was never someone who followed convention in life—so naturally, his approach to guohua (Chinese painting) also defied traditional norms. I’m immensely proud to have been his student, and it was a great honor to collaborate with him on creative projects while I was still a student.
As graduation approached, I knew the Chinese Painting Department wouldn’t keep me on. Around that time, a friend in Beijing helped connect me with an advertising company in Shenzhen, which offered me a position as art director. Back then, Shenzhen’s economy was just beginning to take off, and that unknown, wide-open South held a powerful allure for me.
许勇老师为了能让国画系留下我, 他特意给国画系系主任写了一封长信, 他在信中说, 为了未来学院的教学，这是他第一次也是最后一次请求学校考虑留我做系里的老师。但是,国画系并不曾理会他的请求。
忽然有一天, 许老师找到我, 他说, 油画系的许荣初与赵大均老师正在国画系调查我。他们两位都是鲁美最有名望的老师, 我当然知道他们, 也不止一次见过他们的绘画, 只是从未与他们有过接触。
就这样，许荣初与赵大均老师使我成为了油画系的老师。
In an effort to keep me in the Chinese Painting Department, Professor Xu Yong wrote a long letter to the department head. In it, he said that—for the sake of the academy’s future teaching—this was the first and also the last time he would personally ask the school to consider retaining me as a faculty member. However, the department never responded to his request.
Then one day, Professor Xu approached me and said that Xu Rongchu and Zhao Dajun from the Oil Painting Department were inquiring about me within the Chinese Painting Department. Both were among the most respected professors at Lu Xun Academy—I certainly knew who they were and had seen their work many times, though I had never spoken with them personally.
And just like that, thanks to Professors Xu Rongchu and Zhao Dajun, I became a teacher in the Oil Painting Department.
我上课的油画系在二楼，我曾经的国画系及办公室在三楼。有一次, 我去三楼国画系办公室借一些敦煌壁画的材料, 赶巧, 见到了一位国画系的领导, 他把我堵在门口, 劈头盖脸的痛斥了一顿, 原因竟是某一次我不请假私自外出。
欧洲的美术学院基本上没有中国的宣纸和毛笔，通过我在丹麦的皇家美术学院开设的水墨画课程，通过多年来北欧与中国艺术的交流和民间举办的有关中国艺术的讲座，北欧的艺术家对毛笔和宣纸已不陌生。但是，我不会把我的工作当作是弘扬中国文化。我觉得人类天生有一种好奇和学习能力, 任何好的东西,只要对人类的发展有益处,人们都会心甘情愿地享用。中国的许多好东西如敦煌,、熊猫、造纸、茶等等不都是在我们弘扬它们之前就被世界所熟知并接受的吗？尤其在当今世界的信息和交通如此发达的情况下，多元艺术与科技发明正如恐怖主义一样已成为国际化现象。
The Oil Painting Department, where I taught, was on the second floor. The Chinese Painting Department, where I had studied and once had an office, was on the third. One time, I went upstairs to borrow some materials on Dunhuang murals from their office. As luck would have it, I ran into a department leader, who immediately blocked the doorway and scolded me harshly—for once leaving without formal leave.
In most European art academies, materials like xuan paper and Chinese brushes are not readily available. But through the ink painting courses I taught at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, as well as through years of cultural exchange and public lectures on Chinese art across the Nordic region, these tools are no longer unfamiliar to many Scandinavian artists.
That said, I don’t view my work as a mission to “promote Chinese culture.” I believe human beings are inherently curious and capable of learning. Anything that’s good—so long as it contributes positively to human development—will be willingly embraced. Many of China’s treasures, like the Dunhuang caves, pandas, papermaking, and tea, were already known and accepted by the world long before we ever made efforts to “promote” them.
Especially in today’s world, where information and transportation are so advanced, both multicultural art and technological inventions—just like terrorism, in a way—have become truly global phenomena.
有很长一段时间我无法用笔墨和宣纸创作，只要一动笔， 便是高古游丝的线条，一落墨，就有山光水色的渲染。探求新的图像方式与语言还是要经过有意识的努力才能完成。
一张洁白的宣纸就像一束洁白的玫瑰花一样美丽，宣纸质地的脆弱与敏感正如同生命本身。它的局限性也正是它的自由。当毛笔接触到宣纸的一瞬间，好似天地间的交融，好比春天唤醒冰冻的土地。
此生若不带着前世的记忆，则很难解释人的所谓的天赋。
所有的事件最终都将以图像和文字的方式显现出来,不会发生的, 就会永久的隐入千万年的沉寂，已经发生的和将要发生的事件并置在同一空间，就像春天降临在大地的绿色, 就像我们仍然看不到的记忆与思想 ,就像我们永远把握不住的过去与未来。
某一处，是一切的出发点同时也是目的地。
在绘画中，我们可以无限延长或凝固高山坠石的瞬间，我们可以同时拥有日落日出彩云，因为艺术自由便是绝对自由。
For a long period, I found myself unable to create with ink and xuan paper. The moment I picked up the brush, it would instinctively trace out those ancient, flowing lines; as soon as I laid down ink, it would instinctively render the glow of mountains and the color of rivers. Seeking new imagery and a new visual language required a conscious, deliberate effort.
A blank sheet of xuan paper is as beautiful as a bouquet of white roses. Its fragility and sensitivity mirror life itself. Its limitations are, in fact, its freedom. The instant the brush touches the paper, it feels like the union of heaven and earth—like spring awakening the frozen ground.
If we do not carry memories from a previous life, it is hard to explain what we call “innate talent.”
All events, eventually, will manifest as image or text. That which never happens will vanish into the silence of millennia. What has happened, and what will happen, coexist in the same space—like the green of spring covering the earth, like the memories and thoughts we cannot yet perceive, like the past and future we can never fully grasp.
There is always a place that is both a point of departure and a final destination.
In painting, we can endlessly extend or freeze the moment a boulder falls from a mountain. We can capture both sunrise and sunset, radiant clouds at once—because artistic freedom is absolute freedom.
王彤 Tong Wang
2018年 于北欧国际视觉艺术工作室
2018, at the Nordic International Visual Art Studio
2018年 于北欧国际视觉艺术工作室
2018, at the Nordic International Visual Art Studio