The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre: Lyrical Pictures from the Ming

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Journal of Chinese Literature and Culture, Volume 2, Issue 1, April
2015, pp. 8-42 (Article)
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http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/clc/summary/v002/2.1.xingpei.html
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The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre:
Lyrical Pictures from the Ming
YUAN XINGPEI
ALLISON BERNARD, Translator
Abstract Th is article takes up the topic of shiyi hua 䂙᜿⮛ (lyrical pictures) and introduces
notable examples of the genre produced by ink painters and woodblock-print artists from the
Ming era. It explores the links between the poetic text and its related image and argues that
lyrical picture artists achieved varying degrees of success in adapting poems into pictures.
While some were able to capture the emotional experience contained in the poem, most lyrical pictures are merely descriptive illustrations of the poetic text.
Keywords lyrical picture, Ming artists, visuality, poetry, text-image relationship
At present, the Eastern Jin artist Gu Kaizhi’s 亗ᝧѻ Luoshen fu tu ⍋⾎䌖െ
(Painting on the Luo River-Spirit Rhapsody) looms as China’s earliest extant
lyrical picture.1 Certainly, the influence of this painting has been immense,
with no shortage of imitators. Moreover, even its imitations, all relatively early
works, are considered masterpieces of the lyrical picture genre.2
At the opening of the twelfth juan ধ of his Qinghe shu huafang ␵⋣ᴨ
⮛㡛 (Record on the Pleasure Boats of Qinghe), Ming author Zhang Chou ᕥс
describes some of the aesthetic exemplars and artistic trends that gave rise to
lyrical pictures:
Once the marvelous lines of a Tang dynasty poet are depicted in a painting by a celebrated scholar, they become immortal. Among the most outstanding examples, one
must consider Zi Wei’s ᆀ⭿ [Tang Yin’s ୀᇵ] depiction of “A night of rain in the
The Journal of Chinese Literature and Culture • 2:1 • April 2015
doi 10.1215/23290048-2887541 • © 2015 by Duke University Press
8
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
mountains / leaves one hundred springs running through the tips of tree branches”
the best. Zheng Zhong’s ᗥԢ [Wen Zhengming’s ᮷ᗥ᰾] painting on “Just like Xie
Tiao, my residence is near the blue-green hills; / It is as if the jade-green willows
dangling from my doorway were painted by Tao Qian” is a close second. Before
this, there was Yongjia’s ⭘హ [Du Qiong ᶌ⫺] “The curving river is trapped by the
aquamarine mountain peaks; / The clouds traverse the overcast iridescent rivulets”;
Tingmei’s ᔧ㖾 [Liu Jue ࢹ⧘] “The willow-green of the palace gates stretches far
into the misty distance; / The warbling of orioles in the luxuriant park springs up
after the rain”; and Qinan’s ஏই [Shen Zhou ⊸ઘ] “The calls of orioles on a spring
day sound from within the tall and robust bamboo; / The sound of barking dogs
in immortal homes resounds among the white clouds.” And after, Qiu Ying’s ӷ㤡
“The flowers stretch gradually into the distance, layered upon the trees; / The downy
clouds roam everywhere within the mountains”; Chen Chun’s 䲣␣ “The imperial city within the clouds boasts a pair of phoenix watchtowers; / The spring trees
among the rain reveal ten thousand people’s homes”; Lu Zhi’s 䲨⋫ “Beyond the
floating clouds, the river curls and meanders; / Within the rays of the setting sun,
the palace ramparts stand in serrated patterns”; Wen Boren’s ᮷՟ӱ “Among the
clouds, the color of the trees teems with a thousand flowers; / The sound of spring
waters rushes through channels amid the bamboo”; and Wen Jia’s ᮷హ “The indigoblue waters from afar cascade into a thousand mountain streams; / Side by side, the
lofty jade mountains manifest two cold tapered peaks.” All of these are prestigious
and well-known exemplars.3
ୀӪ࿉ਕˈа㏃਽༛െማˈᴤ䏣ॳਔDŽަ‫ࠪہ‬㘵ᇊ⮦ԕᆀ⭿ [ୀᇵ]Njኡѝаཌ䴘ˈ⁩ᶚⲮ
䟽⋹nj⛪ᴰDŽᗥԢ [᮷ᗥ᰾]Njᆵ䘁䶂ኡ਼䅍㜱ˈ䮰඲⻗ḣլ䲦▋nj⅑ѻDŽަࡽࡷ⭘హ [ᶌ
⫺]Nj≤䘤䶂Ꮂਸˈ䴢⑑㏐ⓚ䲲njǃᔧ㖾 [ࢹ⧘]Nj䯦䮰ḣ㢢✏ѝ䚐ˈ㤲㤁叟㚢䴘ᖼᯠnjǃஏ
ই
[⊸ઘ]Nj᱕ᰕ叟஬㝙ㄩ㻿ˈԉᇦ⣜੐ⲭ䴢䯃njDŽަᖼࡷӷ㤡Nj㣡䚐䟽䟽⁩ˈ䴢䕅㲅㲅
ኡnjǃ䲣␣Nj䴢㻿ᑍ෾䴉匟䰅ˈ䴘ѝ᱕⁩㩜Ӫᇦnjǃ䲨⋫Njᐍ৏㒊㒎⎞䴢ཆˈᇞ䰅৳ᐞ㩭
➗䯃njǃ᮷՟ӱNj䴢䯃⁩㢢ॳ㣡┯ˈㄩ㻿⋹㚢Ⲯ䚃伋njǃ᮷హNj㯽≤䚐ᗎॳ◇㩭ˈ⦹ኡ儉
і‫ޙ‬ጟሂnjˈⲶަ✌䎛ᴹ਽㘵ҏDŽ
The artists mentioned above were all important figures in the Ming dynasty, and their paintings inform us that the practice of making lyrical pictures
was already common at the time. In this article, I will focus primarily on the
lyrical pictures produced by Ming artists, with emphasis on the paintings of
Du Jin ᶌื (1465–1509), Lu Zhi 䲨⋫ (1496–1576), and Xiang Shengmo 丵㚆
䅘 (1597–1658), and the printed woodblock illustrations found in the Tangshi
wuyan huapu ୀ䂙ӄ䀰⮛䆌 (Registry of Illustrated Five-Character Tang Poems) and the Mingjie zenghe qianjia shi ᰾䀓໎઼ॳᇦ䂙 (Clearly Explicated
and Expanded Poems of a Thousand Masters). I will then explore some general
theoretical questions, first comparing the lyrical pictures with their original
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
poetic texts and then discussing the possibilities and limitations of this kind of
image making.
I
We begin our discussion of Ming lyrical pictures with some background on the
mid-Ming painter Du Jin. According to Han Ang’s 七ᰲ Tuhui baojian xubian
െ㒚ሦ䪁㒼㐘 (Sequel to the Treasured Mirror of Painting),
Du Jin, also known by the courtesy name Junan ᠬ⭧, and the pseudonyms Chungju
₹ት, Gukuang ਔ⣲, and Qingxia ting 䶂䵎ӝ, was from the Dantu ѩᗂ district of
Zhenjiang 䧞⊏, and was registered in the capital. He diligently studied the classics, histories, and collected records of the various sages; even among the unofficial
histories and works of fiction, there was none he did not skim through. Upon failing to obtain the jinshi 䙢༛ degree in the imperial examinations, he put an end
to his aspirations for further political advancement. His prose compositions were
peculiar and unadorned, and his poetry was refi ned and precise; he was proficient
in calligraphy and exceptionally good at painting. Every one of his landscapes, figure paintings, and paintings of flora and fauna reached an exquisite level. With an
elegant and simple perspective, he naturally possessed an animated vigor, and it is
appropriate to place him among one’s models.4
ᶌืˈᆇᠬ⭧ˈᴹ₹ትǃਔ⣲ǃ䶂䵎ӝѻ㲏DŽ䧞⊏ѩᗂӪˈᴹ㉽ᯬӜᑛDŽऔᆨ㏃ਢ৺䄨
ᆀ䳶䥢ˈ䴆ぇᇈሿ䃜ˈ㖄н⎹⦥DŽ㠹䙢༛нㅜˈ䙲㎦᜿䙢ਆDŽ⛪᮷ཷਔˈ䂙㋮⻪ˈ䙊‫ޝ‬
ᴨˈழ㒚һDŽަኡ≤ǃӪ⢙ǃ㥹ᵘǃ匕⦨ˈ❑н㠫࿉DŽ⭡ަ㜨ѝ儈ਔˈ㠚❦⾎䟷⍫अˈᇌѾ
ᇇѻ㘵㹶DŽ
The fourth juan ধ of Zhu Mouyin’s ᵡ䄰හ Huashi huiyao ⮛ਢᴳ㾱 (Guiding
Principles of Painting History) also contains an entry for Lu Jin 䲨ื: “Lu Jin,
who was originally surnamed Du ᶌ, had the courtesy name Junan, and the
pseudonyms Chungju, Gukuang, and Qingxia ting” 䲨ืˈ࿻ဃᶌˈᆇᠬ⭧ˈᴹ
₹ትǃਔ⣲ǃ䶂䵎ӝѻ㲏. Zhu Mouyin adds, “At this time, Wu Wei ੣‫ ٹ‬of Jiangxia ⊏༿, Du Jin of Beihai े⎧, and Shen Zhou ⊸ઘ of Suzhou were equally
famous and popular” ᱟᱲᴹ⊏༿੣‫ٹ‬ǃे⎧ᶌืǃခ㰷⊸ઘˈ䂑㠷ѻ啺਽.5
With regard to Du Jin’s social activities, an entry in Yu Fengqing’s 䛱䙒ឦ
Xu shuhua tiba ji 㒼ᴨ⮛乼檊䁈 (Continued Record of Prefaces and Postscripts
to Paintings) offers some useful information. A continuation of the fifth juan
that concerns clouds and woodlands contains a poem by Du Jin under the entry “Shuimo zhu yizhi” ≤໘ㄩа᷍ (A Branch of Ink-Painted Bamboo):
I remember once carry ing a pillow and mat of
woven grass while traveling
䁈ᗇᴭᭌ᷅㉏䙺
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
2
To the secluded thatched cottage along the banks
㪁ⓚⓚк㥹าᒭ
of Turnip Creek.
Who among those that passed by knew of the
∄ᶕ䃠䆈䌒ੋᆀ
worthy nobleman?
4
And so I returned to bed down in the misty
drizzle of the autumn south of the river.
Signed by Du Jin of Chengju6
↨গ⊏ই➉䴘⿻
₹ትᶌื
In addition, the Yuding peiwen zhai shuhua pu ᗑᇊ֙᮷啻ᴨ⮛䆌 (Imperially
Sanctioned Registry of Painting and Calligraphy of the Peiwen Studio),7 Huang
Zongxi’s 哴ᇇ㗢 “Ming wenhai” ᰾᮷⎧ (Sea of Ming Compositions, juan 466),
and the “Ti wuxian yixiang” 乼ӄ䌒䚪‫( ۿ‬Preface to a Posthumous Portrait
of the Five Worthies) from Lin Jun’s ᷇‫ ׺‬Jiansu ji 㾻㍐䳶 (Collection of Witnessed Items) each contains a short entry on Du Jin.
Of Du Jin’s lyrical paintings still extant today, we can take Jiuge tu juan ҍ
ⅼെধ (Painting on the Nine Songs) and Guxian shiyi tu juan ਔ䌒䂙᜿െধ
(Lyrical Painting on the Poems by the Worthies of the Past) as representative.
The first is a brush painting on paper measuring 26.5 cm (vertically) by 53,418 cm
(horizontally) and currently stored at the Palace Museum in the Forbidden City.
The subject matter is drawn from the assorted deities of Qu Yuan’s ቸ৏ Jiuge
ҍⅼ (Nine Songs) and includes “Donghuang taiyi” ᶡⲷཚа (The Great Unity,
God of the Eastern Sky), “Yunzhong jun” 䴢ѝੋ (The Lord within the Clouds),
“Xiangjun Xiang furen” ⒈ੋ⒈ཛӪ (The Lord of the Xiang and Lady of the
Xiang), “Da siming” བྷਨભ (The Greater Master of Fate), “Shao siming” ቁਨ
ભ (The Lesser Master of Fate), “Dongjun” ᶡੋ (The Lord of the East), “Hebo”
⋣՟ (The River Earl), “Shangui” ኡ公 (The Mountain Spirit), “Guoshang” ഻⇔
(Hymn to the Fallen), and “Lihun” ⿞兲 (Honoring the Dead).8
The Jiuge is a favorite subject among painters. As early as the Song dynasty, Li Gonglin ᵾ‫ޜ‬哏 (1049–1106) produced his Jiuge tu juan ҍⅼെধ
(Painting on the Nine Songs). Now in the National Palace Museum in Taipei,
this work is referenced in the writings of Mi Fu ㊣㣮 (1051–1107) preserved in
the Qianlong-era Shiqu baoji chubian ⸣⑐ᇍㄸࡍ㕆 (Treasure Chest of the
Collections from the Shiqu Library, First Volume). The painting also inspired
Yuan-dynasty painter Zhang Wo’s ᕥ⑕ imitation, Lin Li Gonglin jiuge tu juan
㠘ᵾ‫ޜ‬哏ҍⅼെধ (Imitating Li Gonglin’s Painting on the Nine Songs).
Du Jin’s Jiuge tu juan roughly resembles Zhang Wo’s in conceptualization,
layout, and composition but simplifies the earlier work. Zhang Wo had painted
eleven segments to correspond to the eleven original poems of the Jiuge, and
he also placed a portrait of the poet Qu Yuan at the head of the scroll. Taking
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Figure 1. Du Jin, Lyrical Painting on the Poems by the Worthies of the Past. ᶌืˈਔ䌒䂙᜿െধProvided by
the Palace Museum
a different approach, Du Jin painted only ten segments. He merged “Xiangjun”
and “Xiang furen,” originally two separate poems, into one image, and he did
not include a portrait of the poet Qu Yuan. Compared to Zhang’s, the linear
contours of Du Jin’s painting seem less lively and varied, and its sense of substantiveness is also somewhat inferior.
The Jiuge portrays the assorted deities to whom the people of Chu offered
sacrifices. As Han-dynasty scholar Wang Yi ⦻䙨 writes in his “Chuci zhangju”
ᾊ䗝ㄐਕ (Commentary on the Chuci):
The state of Chu is a southern kingdom that lies between the Yuan and Xiang rivers.
Its people customarily believe in ghosts and are keen on making sacrifices. In worshiping, they must sing songs and dance in order to please the various spirits. When
Qu Yuan was banished from the court and sent into exile, he fled from this region.
He was gnawed by anxiety and endured bitter cruelties, and his thoughts were
dense with worry and resentment. He happened to observe the common people’s
sacrificial rituals and the music of their songs and dances; and, because their lyrics
were vulgar and crude, he composed the Jiuge on their behalf.9
᱄ᾊ഻ই䜒ѻ䛁ˈ⊵⒈ѻ䯃ˈަ؇ؑ公㘼ྭ⽰DŽަ⾐ˈᗵ֌ⅼ′啃㡎ԕ′䄨⾎DŽቸ৏᭮
䙀ˈヴԿަฏˈ᠀ឲ㤖∂ˈᜱᙍᙛ兡DŽࠪ㾻؇Ӫ⾝⽰ѻ⿞ˈⅼ㡎ѻ′ˈަ䂎䝉䱻ˈഐ⛪֌
ҍⅼѻᴢDŽ
There is ample room for rendering all the poetic qualities inherent in the Jiuge
in the form of a painting; the artist could have easily achieved a dramatic effect
had he sought to portray both the setting and the atmosphere of the sacrifices
as well as the appearance and expressions of the assorted spirits depicted in
the poems themselves. However, once the artist removes the spirits from the
sacrificial context and presents them in isolation, as Du Jin does here, then it
becomes very difficult to convey the ambiance of the original poems.
Two of the Jiuge, entitled “Xiangjun” and “Xiang furen,” are extremely lifelike in their detail and thus incredibly rich in possibilities for pictorial
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
tableau. Along with the lines “Gathering galangal on the fragrant islet” (䟷㣣
⍢‫ޞ‬ᶌ㤕), “Eyes hazy and distant, filling me with longing” (ⴞⴷⴷ‫ޞ‬ᜱҸ),
or “On the waves of Lake Dongting, the leaves are falling” (⍎ᓝ⌒‫ޞ‬ᵘ㩹л),
many other phrases richly supply the painter with material to display his artistic imagination. It is unfortunate that Du Jin did not apply his brush to this
end. Moreover, “Xiangjun” and “Xiang furen” both describe the title spirit from
the other’s perspective as, tragically separated, they long for their mate. A fine
opportunity to fully engage the nuances of the scene was lost when the artist
joined the figures and even rendered their gender ambiguous. Under Du Jin’s
brush, they resemble an older and younger sister standing opposite each other,
one taller than the other—far from the Lord and Lady’s separation and mutual
pining.
“Da siming” and “Shao siming” also form a pair, and these Du Jin painted as
two separate images. However, like the Songzi Niangniang 䘱ᆀ၈၈ (Goddess of
Fertility) in later periods, the Shao Siming (Lesser Master of Fate) also determined
a person’s offspring and was surely a female spirit. She is described in the poem:
2
I will wash my hair with you in the Xian lake,
㠷ྣ⋀‫ޞ‬૨⊐
And dry your hair on the bank of sunlight.
᲎ྣ儚‫ޞ‬䲭ѻ䱯
I gazed into the distance for the beautiful one who
ᵋ㖾Ӫ‫ޞ‬ᵚֶ
never came,
4
Facing into the wind, I sing my song in full voice.
㠘付ᙣ‫⎙ޞ‬ⅼ
With a canopy of peacock feathers and kingfisher
ᆄ㪒‫ޞ‬㘐᯽
banners,
6
I ascend to the Nine Heavens, clasping the Broom
Star.
Raising a long double-edged sword to protect
young and old,
8
Only one fragrant with virtue is suited to bring
justice to the people.
ⲫҍཙ‫ޞ‬᫛ᖇᱏ
ㄖ䮧ࣂ‫ޞ‬᫱ᒬ㢮
㫰⦘ᇌ‫↓≁⛪ޞ‬10
13
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Figure 1. Continued
After the goddess dries her hair in the sun, she lifts up a long double-edged
sword, embraces a child, and stands towering high above in the heavens. A
marvelous image! Regrettably, Du Jin chose instead to represent this figure as
a bearded male spirit, wearing a long robe and tall hat, his hands cupped in
greeting. Such decisions limited his ability to express the poem’s many lyrical
qualities.
A second example by Du Jin yields a rather different aesthetic outcome.
Guxian shiyi tu juan is a work on paper, painted in shades of black ink, measuring 28 cm (vertically) by 1,079.5 cm (horizontally), now stored at the Palace
Museum in the Forbidden City Figure 1. It lacks a seal stamp. At the end of
the scroll, there is a postscript by Jin Cong 䠁⩞ (1449–1501), which notes that
he copied twelve ancient-style poems in calligraphy and requested that Du Jin
paint on the same scroll to provide visual comments on them.
The poems that Jin Cong inscribed include Li Bai’s ᵾⲭ “Youjun long e”
ਣ䓽㊐厍 (The Dragons and Geese of the Military of the Right), Han Yu’s 七᜸
“Taoyuan tu” ṳⓀെ (Picture of the Peach Blossom Spring), Li Bai’s “Bajiu wenyue” ᢺ䞂୿ᴸ (Raising a
Wine Cup to Invite the
Moon), Han Yu’s “Ting
Ying shi tanqin” 㚭まᑛ
ᕸ⩤ (Hearing Master
Ying Strum the Qin), Lu
Tong’s ⴗԍ “Cha ge” 㥦
ⅼ (Tea Song), Du Fu’s
“Yin zhong baxian ge”
伢ѝ‫ޛ‬ԉⅼ (Song on the
Eight Immortals Engaged in Drinking), Du
Fu’s “Dongshan yanyin”
ᶡኡᇤ伢 (Banquet at Figure 1. Detail (Du Jin, Lyrical Painting on the Poems by the Worthies
the Eastern Mountain), of the Past. ᶌืˈਔ䌒䂙᜿െধProvided by the Palace Museum)
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
Huang Tingjian’s 哳ᓝี “Yong shuixian” 䂐≤ԉ (Song on the Narcissus), and
the set of three poems by Du Fu, “Zhou zhong ye youhuai Lu sishi shi yudi” 㡏
ѝཌ䴚ᴹᠧⴗॱഋֽᗑᕏ (While on a Boat on a Snowy Night, Thinking of Lu
the Fourteenth Serving the Emperor’s Younger Brother), which are combined
in one picture.
Though primarily focused on the human figures, the painting is decoratively studded with trees and rocks, residential buildings, instruments and
books, assorted containers, boats, and other vehicles. The segment with the
most figures that concerns Du Fu’s “Yin zhong baxian ge” deftly combines the
Immortals that Du Fu had originally treated separately. Du Jin manages to organize them all in one scene, even adding a figure pushing a handcart and a
boy servant pouring wine. Each of the Eight Immortals has a unique drunken
deportment, consistent with Du Fu’s description, but the flowing lines and
exuberant flavor of the image reflect the painter’s imagination. While some
sit or stand, others are lying down or riding horses. In this way, Du Jin creates
a scene of picturesque coherence, in which each of the figures is set off by the
others. Adding to the appeal of the picture are fine details such as a standing
screen, painted with a Buddhist image (see the section of figure 1 at the top
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Figure 1. Continued
of page 14, with detail below). Expanding on the meaning and concept of the
original poem, Du Jin’s Guxian shiyi tu juan establishes a high benchmark for
the genre of lyrical pictures.
The depiction of Han Yu’s “Taoyuan tu” is another work that shows considerable creativity. Dispensing with the usual approach to this motif, Du Jin transposed
the landscape of the Peach Blossom Spring onto an outdoor screen and painted
it with simple, sketchy brushstrokes. A scholar stands in front of the screen—
perhaps the poet Han Yu himself—with a servant behind him. Both sides of the
screen are decorated with banana leaves, flowers, and rocks. Although the painting
focuses on a screen depiction of the Peach Blossom Spring, its true subject is the
screen’s observer. So rather than the Peach Blossom Spring itself, what is really being shown here is its multilevel representation: as a poem created by Han Yu, as an
image on the screen that he looks at, and at a higher level, as a pictorial depiction of
the poet gazing at the painting. This is indeed an ingenious conception. Most important is the figure of Han Yu within the painting, who extends his right hand
as if giving instruction or possibly intoning his poem. Capturing this moment
with great vividness, this painting too is a fine exemplar of the lyrical picture genre
(see the section of figure 1 at the top of page 17).
II
From Du Jin, we now turn to another mid-Ming painter of lyrical pictures, Lu
Zhi (1496–1576). Han Ang’s Tuhui baojian xubian informs us that “Lu Zhi was
known by the courtesy name Shuping ਄ᒣ, and the pseudonyms Baoshan वኡ
and Dongwuren ᶡ੣Ӫ. He excelled in blue-green landscapes, where he obtained
wonderful results in his application of color. He was also able to compose poetry”
ᆇ਄ᒣˈ㲏वኡˈᶡ੣ӪDŽழ⮛䶂㐁ኡ≤ˈ⭊ᗇ㪇㢢ѻ࿉ˈӖ㜭䂙.11 The forty-first
juan of Shanhu wang ⧺⪊㏢ (Web of Coral) records many of Lu Zhi’s paintings
inscribed with his own poetry, along with poem inscriptions added to the works
of others. Many of these poems are masterpieces that seem to anticipate painting.
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
For example:
Amid jade-green ramparts, a rushing spring
㘐໱伋⋹лᙕ⑽
plunges rapidly downward.
2
The pavilion by the stream and tower by the
grasses are suspended within a mirror.
foundations outside the fence.
4
A clear splinter of a mountain peak traps the
tranquil mist.
The maple groves like brocade find their
䉯ӝ㥹䯓䨑ѝᠨ
ᾃ᷇ྲ䥖ࠝℴཆ
а⡷Ფጠ䧱◩✏
And:
Snow accumulates on the creek bridge, making
䴚ぽⓚ⁻㹼䐟䴓
travel difficult.
2
The multistoried pavilion obscures the sky,
㭭ཙ⁃䯓䧆䟽ᐂ
framed by the layers of mountain ranges.
On the long road at sunset, the western wind is
䮧䙄ᰕ㧛㾯付ᙕ
urgent.
4
Yet I cannot help reining in my horse to observe
⥦⛪ẵ㣡ं俜ⴻ12
the plum blossoms.
Lu Zhi’s most representative work of lyrical painting, Tangren shiyi tuce
ୀӪ䂙᜿െ޺ (Booklet of Paintings on Tang Dynasty Poems), can be viewed
as twelve panels, each measuring roughly 26 cm (vertically) by 27 cm (horizontally). Currently stored in the Suzhou Museum, it is painted in light washes of
color and signed, “The fourteenth day of the third month of the bingxu [щᠼ]
year of the Jiajing reign, composed by Lu Zhi of Baoshan in the Xiwan Studio
[㾯⮩啻]” హ䶆щᠼйᴸᵋࡽаᰕˈवኡ䲨⋫֌ᯬ㾯⮩啻. At the time of this inscription, Lu Zhi was sixty-one years old.
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Figure 1. Continued
Looking closely at several of the painting’s panels, we begin with the segment illustrating the late Tang poet Li Ying’s ᵾ䜒 “Jiang ting qiu ji” ⊏ӝ⿻䵭
(The Autumn Sky Clears at the Pavilion on the River):
From the Autumn Pavilion, I see the lotus leaves falling
At the country dwellers’ bamboo fence, the bean flowers
⿻佘⊐ຈ㦧㩹ᖼ
in the pond.
䟾Ӫ㊜㩭䉶㣡ࡍ
come early.
Here the poet, surrounded by autumn scenery, thinks longingly of his hometown in Eastern Wu.13 The Autumn Pavilion beneath the shade of a tree, along
with a pond, occupies the bottom half of the painting. In the middle section is a
winding bamboo fence, and just beyond, bean flowers are barely perceptible. A
chain of mountain peaks rises in the distance. With very little ink, this painting masterfully conveys the desolate mood of the poem.
Another panel contains a couplet from late Tang Du Xunhe’s ᶌ㥰古
“Dongmo tong youren fan Xiaoxiang” ߜᵛ਼৻Ӫ⌋♏⒈ (Drifting on the
Xiang River with a Friend at the End of Winter):
Approaching the boat, I find the fish I purchased
surprisingly satisfactory.
Walking in the snow, I notice the wine I bought is
ቡ㡩䋧ᗇ冊‫ٿ‬㖾
䐿䴚⋭ֶ䞂ᴤ俉
doubly fragrant.
The poem vividly describes a winter scene along the Xiang River.14 Lu Zhi accordingly paints a large strip of snowy landscape; mountain peaks, trees, and
the riverbank are all buried under a heavy layer of snow. Inside a pavilion by the
water, someone sits near a window; outside the window a fisherman, still in his
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
boat, wearing a woven straw raincoat, holds up his catch to sell to the person inside. Nearby, another figure walks along the bank toward the pavilion; carrying
a jug of wine with one hand, he uses the other to shield his face from the cold.
Although these figures are only sketched in rough outline, they are nonetheless
very lifelike. The scenery and the human figures complement each other perfectly. As a side note, the eighth juan of the Qing compilation, Shiqu baoji ⸣⑐
ሦㄸ (Treasure Chest of Shiqu), contains an entry for a painting titled Ming Wen
Zhengming maiyu gujiu tu yizhou ᰾᮷ᗥ᰾䋧冊⋭䞂െа䔨 (Wen Zhengming
of the Ming Purchases Fish and Buys Wine), with the same two lines of verse written on its upper-right side. The exact relation between these two paintings we
cannot know, but since Wen Zhengming (b. 1470) and Lu Zhi were near contemporaries and both from present-day Suzhou, there may well be some connection.
Other notable couplets from Lu Zhi’s Tangren shiyi tuce include:
Walking in the Mountains (by Du Mu ᶌ⢗)
ኡ㹼
I stop my vehicle and sit, enjoying the evening scene in
‫ڌ‬䓺඀ᝋᾃ᷇ᲊ
the maple grove;
The frosted leaves are redder than the blossoms of the
䵌㩹㌵ᯬҼᴸ㣡
second month.
Flourishing Autumn (by Du Fu)
⿻㠸
I invite you to look at the moon above the rocks through
䃻ⴻ⸣к㰔㱯ᴸ
the gaps of wisteria,
It shines on the reed flowers in front of the islet.
ᐢ᱐⍢ࡽ㰶㦫㣡
Seeing off a Man from Qi Mountain to Return to the
䘱啺ኡӪ↨䮧ⲭኡ
Changbai Mountains (by Han Hong 七㗳)
Just as before, the wooden gate of my cottage faces the
Ḥ䮰⍱≤‫❦׍‬൘
flowing water;
Throughout the journey, I passed the ten thousand trees
а䐟ሂኡ㩜ᵘѝ
of the cold mountains.
We can pass over these and note the one couplet in this collection not from a
Tang-dynasty poem, which reads:
Awakening from sleep with a slight smile, I remain
ⶑ䎧㧎❦ᡀ⦘ㅁ
alone;
A number of notes of the fisherman’s flute resound
through the dark green waves.
ᮨ㚢┱ㅋ൘⓴⎚
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Mistaken for a Tang work by Lu Zhi, the lines were written by Cai Que 㭑⻪
(courtesy name Chizheng ᤱ↓) in the Northern Song and come from his Xiari
deng Chigai ting shijue ༿ᰕⲫ䓺㪒ӝॱ㎦ (Ten Exceptional Scenes Observed
While Ascending to the Chegai Pavilion on a Summer Day). Composed after
the poet was dismissed from his government post, the collection describes his
stay at the Chegai Pavilion in the northwestern prefecture of De’an ᗧᆹ.
Finally, Lu Zhi’s Hou chibi tu juan ᖼ䎔໱െধ (Painting on Later Red
Cliff Rhapsody) deserves mention. It is inscribed with the couplet:
As the mountains tower on high, the moon becomes
ኡ儈ᴸሿ
smaller,
When the water recedes, the rocks appear.
≤㩭⸣ࠪ
With magnificent breadth and subtle artistic ambience, it is also one of Lu
Zhi’s most famous works.
III
Xiang Shengmo 丵㚆䅘 (1597–1658), also known by the courtesy name Kongzhang ᆄᖠ, was originally from Xiushui ⿰≤ (today’s Jiaxing హ㠸 Prefecture in
Zhejiang Province), and is a well-known late Ming/early Qing painter. According
to juan eighteen of Zhongguo huihua quanji ѝ഻㒚⮛‫ޘ‬䳶 (Complete Records
of Chinese Painters), compiled in the Zhongguo meishu fenlei quanji ѝ഻㖾㺃࠶
于‫ޘ‬䳶 (Compendium of Chinese Fine Art Classifications), Xiang Shengmo produced a twelve-panel work entitled Wang Wei shiyi tuce ⦻㏝䂙᜿െ޺ (Booklet of
Paintings on Wang Wei’s Poems). An ink painting on paper, it is currently housed
in the Shanghai Museum. Each panel contains two lines from poems attributed
to Wang Wei. However, the majority of these poems are not in fact by Wang Wei;
rather, they are couplets taken from poems written by other famous Tang poets.
The original sources for these misattributed couplets are listed as follows:
Hidden Footprints (by Du Fu) (figure 2)
ቿ䐑
With no practical functions, I preserve my own way;
⭘ᤉᆈ੮䚃
In a hidden abode, I relate myself to the natural state of
ᒭት䘁⢙ᛵ
things.
The Heights of Mount Wu (by Lu Zhaolin ⴗ➗䝠)
(figure 3)
ᐛኡ儈
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
The raging waves throw the bands of water into
傊☔Ҳ≤㜸
disorder;
The sudden rain shower obscures the patterns of
傏䴘᳇ጟ᮷
mountain peaks.
Walking in the Mountains in Springtime (by Guan Xiu
᱕ኡ㹼
䋛Ձ)
Enjoying my walk through the mountains, I fear that it
ྭኡ㹼 ⴑ
will end soon.
The running water accompanies me, murmuring all the
⍱≤䃎⴨䳘
way along.
Offered to Match Shengzhi’s Gazing at the Ocean on a
ཹ઼㚆㼭᱕ᰕᵋ⎧
Spring Day (by Yang Shidao ὺᑛ䚃)
The great waves coil around the earth’s axis;
⍚⌒䘤ൠ䔨
The lonely islet reflects the cloud’s light.
ᆔᏬ᱐䴢‫ݹ‬
Lodging for the Night at the Mountain Residence at the
ᇯᔜኡ㎦串ኡ㠽
Peak of Mount Lu (by Cui Tu ፄງ)
The trees in the valley are buried by clouds, becoming
䉧⁩䴢෻㘱
aged.
The monk’s window is chilled by the shadow of the
‫ܗ‬デ♁ᖡሂ
waterfall.
A Poem in Response to Weizhi: Fifty Rhymes on
Lodging in the Bright Heavenly Grotto on a Spring
઼ᗞѻ᱕ᰕᣅ㉑䲭᰾
⍎ཙӄॱ丫
Day (by Bai Juyi ⲭት᱃) (figure 4)
The mountain stream amid the distant pine trees is like
◇䙪ᶮྲ⮛
a painting.
The placid water around the island resembles a plank
⍢ᒣ≤լ䤚
bed.
Roaming at Mount Mao (by Du Xunhe ᶌ㥰古)
䙺㤵ኡ
In the place not even reached by the fishermen and
┱⁥нࡠ㲅
woodcutters,
Deer form a herd among themselves.
咻咯㠚ᡀ㗓
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Seeing off Degree Candidate Wang for His Visit to the
䘱⦻ᆍᓹ㿢ⴱ
Emperor (by Li Bai) (figure 5)
In sunlight, the bright river twists and turns;
ジヅᲤ⊏䕹
The distant mountain peaks join into a linked chain of
৳ᐞ䙪ዛ䙓
jagged peaks.
The only couplets definitely written by Wang Wei are the following:
Seeing off Governor Li Shijun to Zhizhou (figure 6)
䘱ểᐎᵾ֯ੋ
A night of rain in the mountains leaves
ኡѝаཌ䴘
One hundred springs running through the tips of the
⁩ᶚⲮ䟽⋹
tree branches.
The Zhongnan Mountains (figure 7)
㍲ইኡ
Seeking refuge for the evening in another’s dwelling,
ⅢᣅӪ㲅ᇯ
I make an inquiry to the woodcutter across the water.
䳄≤୿⁥ཛ
The remaining two couplets come from unknown sources:
A thousand fields of bamboo away from the creek,
䳄ⓚॳ⮍ㄩ
A fragrant furnace at the end of the day.
ⴑᰕа⡀俉
The fish hidden in the depths have never been baited;
▋劇㠚❑似
Nor have the birds deep within the woods ever felt
᷇匕нᴮ傊
alarm.
Clearly, then, the work is misnamed Wang Wei shiyi tuce, given that many of its
images are not based on poetry by Wang Wei.
With regard to Xiang Shengmo’s artistic abilities, juan eighty-seven
of the Peiwen zhai shuhua pu cites this comment by Dong Qichang 㪓ަ᰼:
“Xiang Kongzhang’s depictions of trees and rocks, residences, flowers and
plants, and human figures are formidable contenders that equal the work of
Song painters, and his landscapes share the distinctive flavor of those made
by Yuan painters. Even if their inherent charms are naturally in agreement, it
must be said that Xiang’s craftsmanship and skills are very impressive indeed”
丵ᆄᖠ⁩⸣ǃቻᆷǃ㣡ॹǃӪ⢙ˈⲶ㠷ᆻӪ㹰ᡠˈኡ≤৸ެ‫ݳ‬Ӫ≓丫DŽ䴆ަཙ丫
㠚ਸˈ㾱Ӗ࣏࣋␡㠣.15 Clearly Xiang Shengmo was well-versed in many forms,
and the skill manifested in his paintings allowed him to vie with the masters of
the Song and Yuan. Indeed, the steep, protruding mountain peaks found in the
pages of this booklet seem to capture the aura of Song brushstrokes. In terms
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
of the images themselves, then, Xiang’s collection of lyrical paintings is already
an excellent work of art.
On the correspondence between poetry and picture, we first consider
Xiang’s depiction of Du Fu’s “With no practical functions, I preserve my own
way; / In a hidden abode, I relate myself to the natural state of things.” On a
hillside beneath the canopy of a shade tree, Xiang has placed a cottage; inside
this building, not a soul can be seen. Th is image perfectly expresses the characters youju ᒭት (hidden abode). For “The raging waves throw the bands of
water into disorder; / The sudden rain shower obscures the patterns of the
mountain peaks,” Xiang’s artistic conception is particularly ingenious. One
face of a hillside, a nearly flat surface, occupies the greater part of the painting.
Thin streaks of rain pour down from the upper left to the lower right of the
scene, while raging waves undulate at the base of the mountain. Only the lower right corner of the painting is studded with a few small shrubs. This painting method seems to be Xiang Shengmo’s original creation. But, if we compare Xiang Shengmo’s booklet to the Yuan painter Tang Di’s ୀἓ Mojie shiyi
tu ᪙䈈䂙᜿െ (Lyrical Painting on Mojie’s [i.e., Wang Wei] Poems), currently
housed at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, Xiang’s work seems to
fall short of the highly suggestive, sometimes opaque grandeur found in the
earlier painting.
In addition, if we look at Xiang’s entire series, the poem inscriptions do
not always fit with Xiang’s images. Sometimes he could not fully capture the
semantic subtleties of the selected couplet, much less those of the poem to
which the couplet belongs. In a few instances, it would have made little difference if he had chosen lines from other poems for the paintings in question.
Therefore, these paintings lose their distinctiveness and the sense of particularity they are assumed to possess in the first place. And indeed, this lack of precise connection between a poem and a picture is a limitation common to many
lyrical paintings of the time.
IV
From painting, we now turn to woodblock-printed images to consider how
lyrical pictures were fashioned in a different medium. The earliest known
woodblock-print illustration comes from the Lienü zhuan ࡇྣۣ (Biographies
of Virtuous Women), produced at the Yu ։ family’s Jing’an Jinyou Workshop
䶆ᆹऔᴹา in Jian’an ᔪᆹ, Fujian, in the eighth year of the Jiayou reign of the
Northern Song (1062). But it was not until the Wanli reign of the Ming that
woodblock-print production reached its peak. Juan 140 of the Siku quanshu
zongmu ഋᓛ‫ޘ‬ᴨ㑭ⴞ (Comprehensive Catalogue of the Complete Library of
the Four Treasuries) describes one such collection:
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Figure 2. Xiang Shengmo,
Painting on Du Fu’s “Hidden
Footprints” 丵㚆䅘ˈ
ljቿ䐑NJ
The painting is currently
preserved in the Shanghai
Museum.
Figure 3. Xiang Shengmo,
Painting on Lu Zhaolin’s
“The Heights of Mount Wu”
丵㚆䅘ˈ
ljᐛኡ儈NJThe
painting is currently preserved
in the Shanghai Museum.
Figure 4. Xiang Shengmo,
Painting on Bai Juyi’s “A Poem
in Response to Yuan Zhen’s
Fifty Rhymes on Lodging in the
Bright Heavenly Grotto on a
Spring Day” 丵㚆䅘ˈ
lj઼ᗞѻ
᱕ᰕᣅ㉑䲭᰾⍎ཙӄॱ丫NJThe
painting is currently preserved
in the Shanghai Museum.
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
Figure 5. Xiang Shengmo,
Painting on Li Bai’s “Seeing off
Degree Candidate Wang for His
Visit to the Emperor” 丵㚆䅘ˈ
lj䘱⦻ᆍᓹ㿢ⴱNJ
The painting
is currently preserved in the
Shanghai Museum.
Figure 6. Xiang Shengmo,
Painting on Wang Wei’s
“Seeing off Zizhou Governor Li”
丵㚆䅘ˈ
lj䘱ểᐎᵾ֯ੋNJThe
painting is currently preserved
in the Shanghai Museum.
Figure 7. Xiang Shengmo,
Painting on Wang Wei’s
“The Zhongnan Mountains”
丵㚆䅘ˈ
lj㍲ইኡNJThe
painting is currently preserved
in the Shanghai Museum.
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
Tangshi huapu ୀ䂙⮛䆌 (Registry of Illustrated Tang Poems) is a work in five juan
ধ, and was compiled by the Ming figure Huang Fengchi 哴匣⊐, who was from
Huizhou ᗭᐎ. This book was published during the Tianqi ཙஏ reign period. It selected fi fty poems each from among the five-, six-, and seven-character quatrains of
the Tang poets, produced images for each that were formed into a pictorial registry,
and then inscribed the original poems on the left-hand side of each image. The main
work is outlined in three sections, and the last two sections are inventories of bird
and flower paintings. Given that some images lacked a corresponding poem, Fengchi gathered these illustrations together and appended them to the poem registry in
order to circulate the work.
ljୀ䂙⮛䆌NJӄধˈ᰾哴匣⊐᫠DŽ匣⊐ˈᗭᐎӪDŽᱟᴨ࠻ᯬཙஏѝˈਆୀӪӄ‫ޝ‬г䀰㎦
ਕ䂙਴ӄॱ俆ˈ㒚⡢െ䆌ˈ㘼ԕ৏䂙ᴨᯬᐖᯩDŽࠑйধˈᵛҼধ⡢㣡匕䆌ˈնᴹെ㘼❑
䂙ˈࡷ匣⊐㠚䳶ަ⮛䱴䂙䆌ԕ㹼ҏDŽ
A note in the commentary indicates that this collection is an imperial storehouse edition (neifu zangben ޵ᓌ㯿ᵜ).
Huang Fengchi also compiled a collection called Huangshi huapu 哳∿
⮛䆌 (Mr. Huang’s Pictorial Catalogue), extant in a block-printed edition produced by the Jiya zhai 䳶䳵啻 in the fourteenth year of the Wanli reign. The
Tangshi wuyan huapu ୀ䂙ӄ䀰⮛䆌 (Registry of Illustrated Five-Character
Tang Poems) from the former collection of Zheng Zhenduo 䝝ᥟ䩨 was
among the works included in Huangshi huapu. Now owned by the National
Library, this book of the Ming period is an invaluable source for studying the
woodblock-print lyrical pictures of the time.
The Tangshi wuyan huapu is a compilation of fifty leaves in the danmian
௞䶒 (single-sheet) style of printing, with the illustration coming first, followed
by the text. Some of the images are signed by Cai Ruzuo 㭑⊍ր with the seals
of Qian Zhonghuan 䡀⋆ሠ, while others are signed by Ding Yunpeng б䴢厜.
On the page opposite the image, poems are written in xingcao 㹼㥹 (semicursive) calligraphic script. Some of the calligraphy is signed by Chen Jiru 䲣㒬
݂, others by Zang Maoxun 㠗៻ᗚ, and still others are labeled with the calligrapher’s registered birthplace, such as Hulin 㱾᷇, Qiantang 䥒ຈ, and so on.
The present-day scholar Ji Shiying ް␁㤡 explains: “Ding Yunpeng, who was
known by the courtesy name Nanyu ই㗭, was a famous painter from the Wanli period. Many of the illustrations in Tangshi wuyan huapu and Yangzheng
tupu 伺↓െ䆌 (Pictorial Registry for Nurturing Uprightness) are in his hand.
Fangzhi mopu ᯩ∿໘䆌 (Ink Registry of Mr. Fang) also contains his painted
works.”16
These drawings and woodblock-printed images clearly display the style
and characteristics of mature woodcut technology. The first picture, Taizong
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
huang ci Fang Xuanling ཚᇇⲷ䌌ᡯ⦴喑 (Emperor Taizong Bestows Favor on
Fang Xuanling), is signed by two seals, “Mr. Cai, Man of Great Merit” (㭑∿‫ݳ‬
ࣻ) and “Stamp of Chong Huan” (⋆ሠѻঠ), and joined to a poem calligraphed
by Shen Liangshi ⊸㢟ਢ:
On Lake Taiye, a celestial boat returns from the
ཚ⏢ԉ㡏䘕
distance,
A superior talent is hidden in the Western Garden.
㾯ൂᕅк᡽
Not knowing whether the journeying chariot has
ᵚ᳹ᖱ䓺ᓖ
passed,
The chickens cry and the gates open early.
叴匤䰇ᰙ䮻17
Both symbols of the imperial court are situated in the capital at Chang’an.18
Lake Taiye formed part of the Palace of Great Brightness, and “Western Garden” refers to Shanglin Park. The poem describes the court’s eager search for
worthy men. It has prepared a boat in advance and opened the city gates to
welcome Fang Xuanling on arrival, but because Fang Xuangling has been diligently handling political affairs, the emperor does not know whether Fang has
even commenced his journey. Clearly the tie between ruler and minister is key
for both parties.
From top to bottom, this picture can be viewed in three sections: at the
top, we see the open city gates high in the mountains; in the middle, a xianzhou ԉ㡏 (celestial boat), containing a painting catalogue and incense burner, crosses the water; and in the foreground, Fang Xuanling arrives in a treeshaded area, still in his chariot at the edge of the lake. The layout of the entire
scene is well proportioned and marked by fluid lines and meticulous knife
work. The human figures, boats and other vehicles, trees, mountains, and rocks
are all depicted with great care and refinement.
The forty-seventh picture, Ti seng dujing tang 乼‫ܗ‬䆰㏃า (On a Monk’s
Hall for Reading Scriptures), is based on a composition by the Tang poet Cen
Shen ዁৳, originally titled “Ti yunji nanfeng Yan shangren dujing tang” 乼䴢
䳋ইጟ⵬кӪ䆰㏃า (On Buddhist Monk Yan on the Southern Peak at the
Edge of the Clouds Reading Scriptures in His Hall). It reads:
Building his residence, he writes of Sanzang [Tripitaka],
㎀ᆷ乼й㯿
Burning incense, he grows old on the mountain peak.
❊俉㘱аጟ
Amid the clouds, he sits and reclines alone,
䴢䯃⦘඀গ
Facing only the firs and the pines.
〆ᱟሽᵹᶮ
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
An annotation states, “The honorable Yan did not come down from this hall
for fifteen years (⵬‫ޜ‬нл↔าॱӄᒤ⸓).”19 The painting is signed, “Written by
Ding Yunpeng (б䴢厜ማ).” Zhu Mouyin’s Huashi huiyao describes the artist in
this way: “Ding Yunpeng, who went by the pseudonym Nanyu ই㗭, was from
Huizhou. In painting Buddhist images, he took Wu Daozi’s ੣䚃ᆀ style as his
model. He was also proficient in painting landscapes. A commentator has remarked, ‘In painting beautiful scenery, Ding surpasses Wu Daozi; but Ding’s
works are not as charming’ ” б䴢厜㲏ই㗭ˈᗭᐎӪˈ֋‫ۿ‬ᇇ੣䚃ᆀㅶ᜿DŽӖ㜭
ኡ≤ˈ䂅㘵Ӂ˖ш༁䙾ѻˈѠ丫䶎ҏ.20 In addition, Ding Yunpeng was a talented
poet—one of his poems was selected for inclusion in Ming shi zong ᰾䂙㏌ (Assembled Ming Poetry).
The feature that makes this picture so special is its use of color: the
monk’s face and neck, as well as his lower garments, have all been tinted with
ochre. Of the fifty images making up the collection, only this picture displays
such properties. In another interesting detail, the artist chose not to portray
the hall as the setting for this picture. Instead, he depicts the monk of the
mountain as seated on his prayer mat, facing the fir and pine trees, while the
burning incense drifts up in spirals. His posture is natural and relaxed and his
face clear and lucid, as if he is deep in thought.
One unsigned painting takes its verses from the late Tang poet Si Kongtu’s ਨオെ “Ou ti” ‫ڦ‬乼 (A Random Note):
The pavilion on the water is a spot profuse with
≤῝㣡㑱㲅
blossoms.
Spring sentiments arise before midday.
᱕ᛵᰕॸࡽ
Birds spy on the mirror by the balustrade.
匕リ㠘⃫䨑
A horse passes by, spurred by a whip that occasionally
俜䙾䳄໫䷝
reveals itself across the wall.
Aware that this poem is describing a woman in love, the artist has painted her
in her lakeside pavilion, standing before a table with a mirror. She turns her
body sideways, leans on the balustrade, and gazes into the distance. Her line of
sight extends toward a handsome young man outside the wall, who is just then
passing by on a horse. He holds a whip in his hand and has turned his head to
look back. Behind him, a maid at the corner of the wall holds a wrapped parcel
apparently intended for him. The background contains a flower garden where
running water flows under a small bridge, and spring willows stir gently in the
breeze. The peach trees are in full blossom, and a pair of spring swallows fly
toward the woman. The ridges and peaks of a mountain range tower in the distance. Using only the flat plane of a small print, the artist has depicted the full
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
series of objects mentioned in the poem. A careful balance of complexity and
simplicity, the composition displays a high level of artistic sophistication. The
eyes of the woman and her maid are fully concentrated on the male figure, and
the facial expressions of all three are very evocative. Among the prints contained in the Tangshi wuyan huapu, this may be the most excellent work.
Though some of the pictures in this collection are rather simple, they are
nonetheless very engaging and suggestive. For instance, Meng Haoran’s ᆏ⎙❦
poem “Chun xiao” ᱕᳹ (Spring Daybreak) is conveyed through a lonely twittering bird perched on a flowering branch. Qian Qi’s 䥒䎧 “Jiang xing” ⊏㹼
(Journeying along the River) is depicted with an eagle flying over the surface
of the water, while a pair of sparrows flutter among the flowers. And Liu Yuxi’s
ࢹ⿩䥛 “Ting zhu” ᓝㄩ (Courtyard Bamboo) is depicted simply through a
large bamboo pole set beside a small bamboo pole, while Chen Shuda’s 䲣਄䚄
“Yong ju” 䂐㧺 (Song on the Chrysanthemum) is illustrated with two shoots of
chrysanthemum blossoms, decorated with bamboo leaves. Such pictures give
the viewer a great deal of room for imagination.
Huang Fengchi also compiled a Liuyan Tangshi huapu ‫ޝ‬䀰ୀ䂙⮛䆌
(Registry of Illustrated Six-Character Tang Poems), with illustrations by Tang
Shizhen ୀц䋎 and others, transmitted in a Wanli-period Jiya zhai woodblockprint edition. The Tangshi qiyan huapu ୀ䂙г䀰⮛䆌 (Registry of Illustrated
Seven-Character Tang Poems), another Jiya zhai woodblock-print edition, contains drawings by Cai Chonghuan 㭑⋆ሠ. In the Tangshi qiyan huapu, the picture based on Wang Wei’s “Shaonian xing” ቁᒤ㹼 (Ballad on Youth) is one of
the most vivid works in the collection. The original poem reads:
Fine Xinfeng wine costs ten thousand cash a dipper.
ᯠ䊀㖾䞂ᯇॱॳ
How many young knights-errant are roaming in
૨䲭䙺ؐཊቁᒤ
Xianyang?
Meeting you by chance, I will drink in your honor.
⴨䙒᜿≓⛪ੋ伢
We harness our horses at a tall building, beside a
㒛俜儉⁃඲ḣ䚺
weeping willow.
The corresponding illustration depicts a wine house, in which two people sit
drinking opposite each other. Outside the building stands a willow tree with a
crooked trunk, its branches falling in a charmingly tangled arrangement. Beneath the tree, a horse, tied to the trunk, turns its head while another horse
rests in the shade. Both are rendered with considerable animation, making this
painting a piece of outstanding artwork.
During the Wanli period, a similar publication entitled Shiyu huapu 䂙
佈⮛䆌 (Registry of Illustrated Verse Poems) was produced by a Mr. Wang ⊚
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
∿. It consists of the illustrations of Qin Guan’s 〖㿰 “Chun xiao” ᱕᳹ (Spring
Daybreak) and Li Qingzhao’s ᵾ␵➗ “Libie” 䴒ࡕ (Parting), among other poems. Also included is a piece of painting on Su Shi’s 㰷䔮 “Nian nü jiao: Chibi
huaigu” ᘥྤᄼ·䎔໱ᠧਔ (A Remembrance of Red Cliff to the Tune of Nian nü
jiao). The original verse is well known:
2
The Yangzi River flows eastward,
བྷ⊏ᶡ৫
its waves washing away
⎚␈ⴑ
the talented figures from throughout the ages.
ॳਔ付⍱Ӫ⢙
4 On the western side of the old rampart,
it is said,
6 stands the Red Cliff of Zhou Lang [Zhou Yu ઘ㗭]
᭵༈㾯䚺
Ӫ䚃ᱟ
й഻ઘ䛾䎔໱
of the Three Kingdoms.
Rocks in disarray pierce the empty sky;
8
10
12
14
Ҳ⸣クオ
raging waves pound against the shore,
傊☔᣽የ
billowing like a thousand swirling snowflakes.
ᦢ䎧ॳึ䴚
The landscape scene is like a painting,
⊏ኡྲ⮛
for a moment full of great heroes.
аᱲཊቁ䊚‫ہ‬
Imagining the brilliant years of the Duke,
䚉ᜣ‫⮦⪮ޜ‬ᒤ
first wed to Xiao Qiao,
ሿ௜ࡍჱҶ
emanating bravery and mighty grandeur.
䳴ု㤡Ⲭ
Holding in his hands a feather fan, [Zhou Yu]
㗭ᡷ㏨ᐮ
donned a black silk ribbon headscarf
16
and amid conversation and laughter,
䃷ㅁ䯃
he overcame his enemies, exterminating them in
ᕧ㲌⚠伋➉⓵
a flurry of ashes and smoke.
18
As my spirit roamed in the old country,
᭵഻⾎䙺
I answered my sentimentality with a laugh,
ཊᛵ៹ㅁᡁ
20 as my hair turned prematurely gray.
22
ᰙ⭏㨟儚
The lives of humankind are like dreams.
Ӫ䯃ྲདྷ
Raising my wine vessel, I make a toast to the moon
аሺ䚴䞗⊏ᴸ
in the river.
The print shows the Red Cliff towering over the Yangzi River, its large billowing
waves surging below. A small boat transports five figures, three of whom face
each other as they drink wine, while a helmsman paddles the boat.
It should be noted, however, that the line “Raising my wine vessel, I make
a toast to the moon in the river” does not originate from a speaker in a boat;
rather, the poet is toasting the moon from the shore. Not produced strictly in
accord with the classic verse, this print draws its content instead from another
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
work called “Chibi fu” 䎔໱䌖 (Red Cliff Rhapsody). Indeed, the “Chibi tu” 䎔
໱െ (Pictures on Red Cliff ) theme was a favorite among artists and inspired
many different interpretations: Jin artist Wu Yuanzhi ↖‫ⴤݳ‬, Yuan artist Wu
Zhen ੣䧞, and Tang Yin ୀᇵ of the Ming all produced their versions. Wu
Yuanzhi’s painting is especially stunning in its grandeur and excellent, wellbalanced composition; it earned the praise of his contemporary, poet Yuan
Haowen ‫( ୿ྭݳ‬1190–1257). Even the woodblock-print illustration included in
Shiyu huapu (described above) counts as a masterpiece. We regret only that the
identity of the compiler, “Mr. Wang,” remains a mystery.
Also collected and published in illustrated editions were Ming-period
sanqu ᮓᴢ (art songs). The Wusao hebian ੣偧ਸ㐘 (Anthology of the Wu
Songs) in four juan was originally assembled by Ming figure Zhang Chushu
ᕥᾊ਄, with a commentary by Zhang Xuchu ᕥᰝࡍ. Dated to the fifteenth
year of the Chongzhen reign (1637), the collection contains woodcut engravings by Xiang Nanzhou 丵ই⍢, Hong Guoliang ⍚഻㢟, Hong Chengfu ⍚ᡀ
⭛, and others. Produced in heye lianshi ਸ丱䙓ᔿ (double-sheet style), these
illustrations span the gutter (where the book is bound); their greater width
enabled them to express richer content in much more detail than was possible in the single-sheet style. But the interest of these illustrations is not limited to the fi ne images and carving work; each is also accompanied by lines
from the popu lar songs of the day, many of which are no longer extant. Thus,
for scholars of literary history, they are of great value in the reconstruction of
lost texts.
Among these song lines is a couplet by Shen Jing ⊸⫏ entitled “Ti qing”
乼ᛵ (On Love):
Before a wine vessel, white teeth pair with bright eyes,
ሺࡽⳃ喂ሽ᰾⵨
Before the stars, secret thoughts accord with deep
ᱏࡽᇶ᜿ㅖ␡⸕
understanding.
These lines describe a woman’s transition from yearning for her sweetheart
to meeting him in person. The woodcut scene vividly depicts the lovers holding hands and strolling beneath the Big Dipper. Another in the anthology is by
Wen Peng ᮷ᖝ and called “Qiu gui” ⿻䯘 (Woman in Autumn):
A drooping poplar casts its silhouette onto the bridge.
඲ὺ᱐⮛⁻
A small path becomes lost among the fragrant grasses.
ሿᗁ䘧㣣㥹
The first half of the picture shows a pendulous poplar tree and a small bridge,
while the second places a woman, apparently deep in contemplation, seated
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
on a rock at the riverbank while a young girl prepares tea. From Chen Dasheng’s
䲣བྷ㚢 “Xia gui” ༿䯘 (Women in Summer) are the lines:
Mandarin ducks come flying by in pairs,
卋卖‫ޙޙ‬伋ֶ
Warm companions on the bright sandy shore.
᳆‫ڽ‬Ფ⋉
The first part of this image shows two women sitting idly in a pavilion by a
lake. With heads bent and eyes fi xed on the water, they show signs of lovesickness. The second part of the image depicts lotus flowers floating on the lake
and a pair of mandarin ducks flying along the surface of the water. The lian 㬞
(lotus flowers) signify ailian ᝋៀ (affection), and the mandarin ducks signify
a pair of lovers; thus, these symbols highlight the emotions of the two lovelorn
women. In addition, from a poem by Wen Zhengming ᮷ᗥ᰾ called “Qiu gui”
⿻䯘 (Autumn in the Boudoir), there are the lines:
Facing the loom in front of me, I desire to weave a
㠘₏Ⅲ㒄䘤᮷
palindrome poem.
Before I touch the shut tle, my heart breaks.
ᵚクờረᗳ‫⺾ݸ‬
Here, half the image reveals a woman wearing patterned brocade; on the other
side, a small bridge in a courtyard without a soul in sight suggests her quiet
loneliness.
The most interesting of the entries, however, is based on a single line from
the poem “Chun zhai ji shi” ᱕啻ণһ (On Springtime in My Study) by Qin
Fuan 〖ᗙᓥ:
Bodies are covered by fragrant dew, which in return
┯䓛俉䵢⋮␵ᖡ
moistens their shadows.
The first part of this illustration shows a man and woman sitting closely together under the moon. Behind them, flowers wind around a railing, while
banana trees and other plants, a building, and a Taihu ཚ⒆ rockery fill the
background. In both composition and engraving technique, its execution is
so meticulous that despite the complex density of the scene, it exudes clarity
rather than any sense of clutter or disorder. Somewhat in contrast to this first
segment, the second half of the image is quite sparse: only stars and moon in
the sky above a curved railing by the riverbank. The spatial dimensions of this
illustration are arranged to perfection, and as a result, the image is rich in
perspective.
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
V
Today housed in the Chinese National Library in Beijing, Mingjie zenghe qianjia
shi zhu ᰾䀓໎઼ॳᇦ䂙⌘ (Clearly Explicated and Expanded Poems of a Thousand Masters, with Commentary), in a Ming imperial storehouse edition with
color illustrations, is an incredibly rare and valuable book. This text, printed on
extra-thick mulberry bark paper in very fine calligraphy with generous amounts
of blank space beside illustrations that use natural mineral pigments, and covered in yellow silk, probably served as an illustrated reader for a crown prince
of the mid-late Ming.21 The original text would have comprised two juan, but
only one survives. This text includes thirty-six poems, all of which are sevencharacter regulated verses by masters of the Tang and Song. Arranged by season,
with scenes for spring, summer, autumn, and winter, the poems correspond to
the original ones included in Qianjia shi ॳᇦ䂙 (Poems by a Thousand Masters),
matching the latter’s rhyme schemes. In addition, all the poems are accompanied
by commentary written in smaller characters in double lines. The work is signed
by the famous Song luminary Xie Dieshan 䅍⮺ኡ, pseudonym of Xie Fangde 䅍
ᶻᗇ, a popular editor and commentator on the Qianjia shi. The print format is
divided into two registers. The top register occupies about a third of the page and
contains the illustration, while the rest of the page contains the text.
The style of the images is more or less consistent throughout and takes
roughly the same approach to expressing the poetic content. Most illustrations
are based on a single line or only a few lines from a poem, while a few others
manage to encompass more of their source text. We begin with Du Fu’s “Jiang
cun” ⊏ᶁ (Village on the River):
At a bend in the clear river, the tide envelops a
␵⊏аᴢᣡᶁ⍱
village.
2
In the long summer, the river village is hidden
䮧༿⊏ᶁһһᒭ
away from all affairs.
4
Flying to and fro, swallows perch in the hall.
㠚৫㠚ֶาк⠅
With amity and affinity, gulls dart above the
⴨㿚⴨䘁≤ѝ吇
water.
My aging wife draws a paper sketch to create a
㘱࿫⮛㍉⛪ỻተ
chess board,
6
And the young child strikes a needle to use as a
おᆀᮢ䠍֌䠓䠾
fishhook.
8
Having become gravely ill, I only need medicine.
ཊ⯵ᡰ丸ᜏ㰕⢙
Aside from my shrinking body, what more could
ᗞ䓰↔ཆᴤօ≲
I ask for?
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34
JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
The illustration depicts Du Fu and his elderly wife sitting across from each other
under a canopy of dense shade, outside a cottage near a clear river. While his wife
draws a chessboard, a young child is at the riverbank striking a needle to produce
a fishhook. In the front of the hall, swallows can be seen in flight. The artist was
clearly determined to depict much of the content of these first six lines.
The illustration for Ouyang Xiu’s ↀ䲭‫ ؞‬poem “Da Ding Yuanzhen” ㆄ
б‫( ⧽ݳ‬Reply to Ding Yuanzhen) is another good example of an image that expresses more than just a line or two from its source text. The poem reads:
I doubt the spring breeze reaches the distant
᱕付⯁нࡠཙ⏟
horizon.
2
The mountain settlement in February has yet to
Ҽᴸኡ෾ᵚ㾻㣡
witness the blossoming of flowers.
The remains of the snow weigh down the tree
⇈䴚༃᷍⥦ᴹ₈
branches, still heavy with last year’s tangerines.
4
Icy thunder startles the bamboo shoots, which
߽䴧傊ㅽⅢᣭ㣭
long to send out sprouts.
As the night carries the sound of returning geese,
ཌ㚎↨匸⭏䜹ᙍ
homesickness wells up from within me.
6
Entering into the new year beset with sickness, I
⯵‫ޕ‬ᯠᒤᝏ⢙㨟
am moved by the natural scenery.
8
I was once a visitor among the flowers of Luoyang.
ᴭᱟ⍋䲭㣡лᇒ
Although the wildflowers bloom late, alas! they
䟾㣣䴆ᲊн丸ఏ
will not wait for me.
The accompanying illustration includes many of the poem’s details: the city
wall, tangerines on the tree branches left over from the previous autumn, bamboo shoots sprouting from the ground, and of course, the poet and a young boy.
However, this illustration is hard-pressed to manifest the liminality of bamboo
shoots just about to sprout, and it does not capture the intermediacy of the
phrase yu chou ya Ⅲᣭ㣭 (longing to send out sprouts).
We can also consider the image paired with Han Yu’s 七᜸ poem “Zuo
qian zhi Languan shi zhisun Xiang” ᐖ䚧㠣㯽䰇⽪ယᆛ⒈ (For My Grandnephew Xiang: On My Change in Position and Arrival at Lan Pass), which reads:
2
At dawn, I submitted a memorial to the emperor;
аሱᵍཿҍ䟽ཙ
At dusk, I was demoted to Chaoyang, at a distance
ཅ䋦▞䲭䐟‫ॳޛ‬
of eight thousand miles.
I had wished to rid the imperial court of all harmful things,
Ⅲ⛪㚆ᵍ䲔ᔺһ
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
4
But could I take my decline in age and begrudge
㛟ሷ㺠ᵭᜌ⇈ᒤ
the remaining years?
The clouds block the way to Qinling, and I cannot
䴢⁚〖Ꮺᇦօ൘
find home,
6
The snow swarms around Lan Pass, and my horse
䴚᫱㯽䰇俜нࡽ
cannot move forward.
I know that you have come from afar, and must
⸕⊍䚐ֶ៹ᴹ᜿
have your reasons.
8
You must be keen to collect my bones, which are a
ྭ᭦੮僘Ɽ⊏䚺
pestilence at the riverbank.
The artist used two illustrations to visually convey the meaning of the poem.
In the first, Han Yu is offering a memorial at court and in the other, Han Yu sits
astride a horse as he encounters his nephew Han Xiang at Lan Pass. The first
recounts a memory, while the second image points to the mood and circumstances in which Han Yu composed the poem. Both the reverential state of the
first picture and the bitter distress of the second are depicted with great clarity.
VI
Gotthold Ephraim Lessing’s “Laocoon: An Essay upon the Limits of Painting
and Poetry” offers many insights on the relationship between poetry and art
and is thus particularly relevant to the issues in question here. However, in extending our attention to poetry and lyrical paintings, it may be useful to slightly widen the framework.
An artist’s understanding of poetry, along with his imagination, is extremely important to the quality of the images he produces. We see a perfect
example of this in a record by the Song-dynasty figure Deng Chun 䝗Ὧ, entitled Huaji ⮛㒬 (Continuing with Paintings). This text chronicles the conditions of the painting academy examinations at the court of Northern Song emperor Huizong ᗭᇇ, and it records an interesting anecdote concerning lyrical
paintings:
To be established as a court academician, a man would have to have his artistic ability tested by the academy. At this time, my grandfather was serving in the court and
recommended Zifang ᆀᡯ, nephew of Song Di ᆻᔨ, for selection to the academy.
Already Zifang’s brush-and-ink paintings far exceeded those of his contemporaries,
and everyone said he was right for the position. The test topic for the exam was the
couplet: “No man traverses the river in the wilderness, / the lonely boat moors at the
riverbank for the whole day.” From the second-place candidate on down, most depicted an empty boat tied up at the edge of the shore, a heron curled up at the sides
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JOURNAL of CHINESE LITERATURE and CULTURE
of a boat, or a crow perched on the back of a sail. But the first-place candidate, Zifang, did not follow suit. He painted a boatman sleeping in the helm of a boat, with
a lone flute lying across his body. His intention was to suggest: it was not that there
was no boatman, only that there was no traveler. Thus he portrayed the boatman’s
great leisure. In another instance, the first-place candidate visualized the line “The
disordered mountains conceal the old temple” by painting a canvas packed with uncultivated mountains, with only a banner on the end of a pole jutting out on top,
suggesting complete concealment. The others, whose paintings betrayed the peak of
a pagoda, roof ornaments, or even the temple buildings, failed to convey the idea of
concealment.22
ᗙ・ঊ༛ˈ㘳ަ㰍㜭DŽ⮦ᱟᱲ㠓ѻ‫⾆ݸ‬䚙൘᭯ᓌˈ㯖ᆻᔨ⥦ᆀᆀᡯԕ⮦ঊ༛ѻ䚨DŽᱟᱲ
ᆀᡯㅶ໘࿉ࠪаᱲˈ૨䄲ᗇӪDŽᡰ䂖ѻ乼ˈྲ Nj䟾≤❑Ӫ⑑ˈᆔ㡏ⴑᰕ⁚DŽnj㠚ㅜҼӪԕ
лཊ㒛オ㡏የ‫ˈڤ‬ᡆᤣ吪ᯬ㡧䯃ˈᡆἢ匹ᯬ㈧㛼DŽ⦘共ࡷн❦ˈ⮛а㡏Ӫগᯬ㡏ቮˈ⁚а
ᆔㅋˈަ᜿ԕ䄲䶎❑㡏Ӫˈ→❑㹼Ӫ㙣ˈфԕ㾻㡏ᆀѻ⭊䯁ҏDŽ৸ྲNjҲኡ㯿ਔሪnjˈ共
ࡷ⮛㦂ኡ┯ᑵˈкࠪᒑㄯˈԕ㾻㯿᜿DŽ佈Ӫѳ䵢ຄቆᡆ协੫ˈᖰᖰᴹ㾻⇯า㘵ˈࡷ❑ᗙ
㯿᜿⸓DŽ
Working with the same lines of poetry, each artist under examination painted
them differently, filling the large space left to the imagination with their own
details. The relative quality of a work as a lyrical picture, however, hinges on
the artist’s grasp of the characteristics of both the poetic and pictorial forms,
as well as in his skill in converting one to the other.
Poetry draws heavily on language that is rich in associations to depict a
scene or express emotion. In doing so, it evokes resonances among its reading audience. We can think of poetry composition as a three-part process: beginning with the object-in-itself, it refines that object to its conceptual essence
and makes it expressive of an artistic mood. Naturally, this entire process relies
on imagination, but here the reading audience and the poet might well differ.
Likewise, differences might arise when we consider the images that the same
poem will call to mind for different readers, as well as differences for readers of
different eras or even for a single reader at different times or places. This is to
say, poetic images can waver and shift: just how a poem is imagined will vary
from person to person. In fact, a reader can be said to participate in its production—a kind of artistic re-creation. For instance, when the image of a guzhou
ᆔ㡏 (lonely boat) found in the poem above floats into the reader’s mind, the
particular appearance it will take—whether a zhameng zhou 㳡㵒㡏 (grasshopper boat) or a wupeng chuan ⛿㈧㡩 (black-sailed boat)—will depend on the
reader’s own life experiences. Likewise, whether the gusi ਔሪ (old temple) of
the same poem resembles Lingyin Si 䵸䳡ሪ (Lingyin Temple) or Yuelu Si ዣ哃
ሪ (Yuelu Temple) will depend on the reader’s imagination.
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
In contrast, a picture appeals directly to the audience’s visual sense. A
lyrical picture necessarily concretizes the conceptual essence of a poem by
turning it into a definite, perceivable object. In doing so, it eliminates the possibility of visually imagining anything other than what is presented in the pictorial image. The transformation of a poem to a picture initially allows for many
alternatives, but once the artist has completed his work, he presents only one
image to his audience. In other words, he has taken the multiplicity of visually
imaginable possibilities and solidified them into one definitive tableau. Thus,
we can describe the process of going from a poem to a lyrical picture as moving
from an artistic mood to a conceptual essence, to depicting the object-in-itself.
Let us return once again to the interesting anecdote introduced above.
The couplet “No man traverses the river in the wilderness, / the lonely boat
moors at the riverbank for the whole day” comes from the Northern Song
statesman poet Kou Zhun’s ᇷⓆ (961–1023) composition entitled “Chunri deng
lou huai gui” ᱕ᰕⲫ⁃ᠧ↨ (Ascending the Tower on a Spring Day, Harboring
Thoughts of Return). This poem is based on a more concentrated line in Tang
poet Wei Yingwu’s ䷻៹⢙ (737–792) “Chuzhou xi jian” ⓱ᐎ㾯◇ (Western
Mountain Stream of Chuzhou), which reads:
At the point of the river crossing, no man is in sight, and
䟾⑑❑Ӫ㡏㠚ₛ
an unmanned boat moors at the riverbank.
With regard to the two lines of verse by Kou Zhun, the third juan of Longping ji 䲶
ᒣ䳶 (Anthology of Longping’s Works) by the Song figure Zeng Gong ᴭ䶿 states,
“In Badong, there is an Autumn Wind Pavilion, in which [Kou] Zhun separated
one line by Wei Yingyu into two, which said, ‘No man traverses the river in the
wilderness, / the lonely boat moors at the riverbank for the whole day.’ Those who
knew him were aware that he would certainly be placed in a powerful position”
ᐤᶡᴹ⿻付ӝˈⓆ᷀䷻៹⢙а䀰⛪ҼਕӁNj䟾≤❑Ӫ⑑ˈᆔ㡏ⴑᰕ⁚njˈ䆈㘵⸕ަ
ᗵབྷ⭘.23 In fact, Kou Zhun was later appointed prime minister. An even more
detailed record can be found in Wang Shipeng’s ⦻ॱᴻ Meixi houji ẵⓚᖼ䳶
(Continued Collected Works of Meixi), juan twenty-six, “Kou Zhoumin gong
Badong ci ji” ᇷᘐ᜽‫ޜ‬ᐤᶡ⾐䁈 (The Honorable Kou Zhongmin’s Records of
Badong Temple):
The honorable gentleman [Kou Zhun] was elegant, and preserved a heart that
wished to assist the world; his intentions accorded with the sentiments of “the
boat moors at the point of river crossing in the wilderness.” . . . When the gentleman wrote these lines in his home village, he was just over twenty years old, and
because he had affection for the people, the people of the age called him Kou
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Badong ᇷᐤᶡ. After this, he was sent to assume the position of prime minister,
and he fulfi lled all promises that he made. . . . However, because his character was
upright and straightforward, he did not follow the ways of others; in his later years,
he was forced aside by crafty and treacherous ministers, so he was sent into exile in
the uncultivated lands of the south, which brought about his death. To this day, the
whole world grieves for him.24
ⴆ‫ޜ‬䳵ᆈ☏цѻᗳˈ㠷㡏⁚䟾⑑ѻ᜿ਸDŽ······‫⛪ޜ‬ᱟ䛁ᱲˈᒤᯩ䑠ߐˈᴹᝋ൘≁ˈцબ⛪
ᇷᐤᶡDŽަᖼ㠤䓛ᇠ⴨ˈ䑀ަᡰ䀰DŽ······❦ᙗ㍐ࢋⴤˈн㠷⢙⎞⊹ˈᲊㇰ⛪ྨ䛚ᡰᬐˈ⍱
㩭ই㦂ԕ↫ˈཙл㠣Ӻ૰ѻDŽ
The phrase “the boat moors at the point of river crossing in the wilderness”
(zhou heng ye du 㡏⁚䟾⑑) is meant to suggest Kou Zhun’s state just as he was
turning twenty and on the threshold of his official success, at the same time
foreshadowing his later appointment and achievements. There is also a subtle
association between the characters for jihe ☏⋣ (to cross a river) and jishi ☏ц
(to assist the world). Wei Yingwu’s poem “Chuzhou xi jian” originally signified
the idea that one should continue in his own way rather than blindly following the ways of others. So regardless of changes in the outside world—whether
niao fei jue 匕伋㎅ (the flying birds have vanished) or renjing mie Ӫᗁ⓵ (the
human footpaths are wiped out)—the old fisherman dudiao hanjiang xue ⦘䠓
ሂ⊏䴚 (fishes alone in the snow on the cold river) as before.25 In the same way,
Kou Zhun transforms the meaning of these two lines to display his upright and
straightforward character, partly as a result of which he was later subjected to
defamation and dismissed from his post as prime minister, only to wander destitute in the uncultivated south until his death. Perhaps even the poet himself
was not fully aware of the possible meanings implied in the text, let alone the
painters of later generations who sought to render this line in paintings. Even if
they were aware of such extralinear meanings, they might have not have been
able to convey them through the available visual language. It is precisely this
kind of issue that poses a limitation for the genre of lyrical paintings.
The second juan of Zhu Mouyin’s Huashi huiyao records a similar story
about the Song painting academy examination:
They also used the line “At the edge of the bamboo-fragment bridge, a wine shop
sells spirits” as a test topic. While most of the candidates spent their time depicting
the wine shop, only Li Tang ᵾୀ painted a shop sign suspended outside the bamboo
at the edge of the bridge. The emperor was pleased that Li had captured the verb
“to lock” with this image. They also tested with the line “Treading on flowers while
returning makes the horses’ hooves fragrant.”26 Most painted horses and flowers—
only one man painted several butterflies following a horse, thus also pleasing the
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
emperor. Further, they tested the candidates with “In a thicket of ten thousand
greens, there is one fleck of red.”27 Some painted a beautiful woman amid the poplars and willows, some painted a single crane amid myriad pine trees, but Liu Songnian ࢹᶮᒤ alone painted a round, red sun amid ten thousand streams of seawater.
When the emperor saw this work, he was immensely pleased—the painting was not
only broad and grand in scale, but its fundamental concept also far surpassed all of
the others.28
৸ԕNjㄩ⪓⁻䚺䌓䞂ᇦnj⛪乼ˈ㹶Ⲷੁ䞂ᇦ⵰ᐕཛˈᜏᵾୀնᯬ⁻九ㄩཆ᧋а䞂ᑈˈк
ௌަᗇNj⪓nj
˄䬱˅ᆇ᜿DŽ৸䂖Nj䐿㣡↨৫俜䑴俉njˈ㹶Ⲷ⮥俜⮥㣡ˈᴹаӪն⮥ᮨ㶤㶦
伋䙀俜ᖼˈкӖௌѻDŽ৸䂖Nj㩜㐁਒ѝ㌵а悧njˈᴹ⮥ὺḣ㖾Ӫ㘵ˈᴹ⮥㩜ᶮа古㘵ˈ⦘
ࢹᶮᒤ⮥㩜⍮⎧≤㘼⎧ѝа䕚㌵ᰕˈк㾻ѻབྷௌˈަ㾿⁑☦བྷˈ・᜿䎵㎦ҏDŽ
The paintings that received the greatest praise from Emperor Huizong are indeed quite rare works: not only do they perfectly express the lyrical concept
of the original poem, they also expand the space for associative imagination
already in the poem. In this way, they truly exceed expectations. From this, we
can see that the possibilities for the lyrical picture genre are significant, but
what a painting actually manages to realize is dictated by the skill and sensibility of the painter.
A poetic work opens the door to the possibility of a lyrical picture, but it
can also be restrictive. The artist must step through the doorway that the poet
has opened and enter into its lyrical concept but should not feel limited to the
literal content of the poem itself. Once a painter is resigned to merely reiterating the content of the poem via descriptive illustration, it becomes difficult to
create an excellent work of art. Among the lyrical pictures by Ming artists discussed above, few rise above descriptive illustration.
It is actually very difficult for a painting to express everything contained
within a poem. While it is relatively easy to paint scenery poetically described,
it is harder to express the emotions associated with the scenery, and especially
challenging to convey the unspoken implications that frame a poem contextually. So the artist has no choice but to select certain phrases to paint, grasping at motifs that possess intuitive visuality. Among the different poetic forms,
quatrains are probably the easiest to depict. For long-form ballads, the artist
must use a succession of linked paintings to cover the full scope of the poem.
With regard to subject matter, landscape poetry lends itself most readily to
painting, while discursive poems are quite difficult to pull off. We might say
that lyrical pictures are no more than what may be called visual focalization
of the text, engendering a feeling of freeze-frame when compared to the original poem. These pictures rarely convey the same deep emotional experience
we get from the poem; they do not leave the rich, lingering memory of the
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poem’s aesthetics or the abundant conceptual associations of poems that deal
with human existence. We may well appreciate these pictures simply as independent or self-contained visual works of art, admiring their brushwork, lines,
imagery, and points of particular charm and interest. But if we juxtapose lyrical
pictures against the full meaning of their poetic sources, we frequently feel a discontentment that perhaps only points to the limitations of the genre.
YUAN XINGPEI
Peking University
㺱㹼䴸
ALLISON BERNARD
Columbia University
References
Cai Mengbi 㭑དྷᕫ. Caotang shihua 㥹า䂙䂡 (Discussion of Poetry from the Thatched Cottage). Song dynasty edition. Beijing: National Library of China.
Deng Chun 䝗Ὧ. Huaji ⮛㒬 (Continuing with Paintings). In Nan Song Lin’an Chen daoren
shupeng ben ইᆻ㠘ᆹ䲣䚃ӪᴨἊᵜ (The Collection of Daoist Chen 䲣䚃Ӫ of the
Southern Song Capital Lin’an). Liaoning: National Library of China.
Gao Bing 儈ỵ. “Cen Shen” ዁৳. In Tangshi shiyi ୀ䂙᤮䚪 (Assembled Lost Items of Tang
Poetry). Ming revised edition and commentary by Zhang Xun ᕥᙲ, juan 4:3.
Han Ang 七ᰲ. Tuhui baojian xubian െ㒚ሦ䪁㒼㐘 (Sequel to the Treasured Mirror of Painting). Siku quanshu wenyuange ഋᓛ‫ޘ‬ᴨ᮷␥䯓 edition, 1781.
Hawkes, David, trans. The Songs of the South: An Ancient Chinese Anthology of Poems by Qu
Yuan and Other Poets. New York: Penguin, 2011 (1985).
Hong Xingzu ⍚㠸⾆. Chuci buzhu ᾊ䗝㼌䁫 (Supplemental Commentaries on the Chuci).
Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983.
Huang Fengchi 哳匣⊐, comp. Tangshi wuyan huapu ୀ䂙ӄ䀰⮛䆌 (Registry of Illustrated
Five-Character Tang Poems). Preface by Ji Shuying ް␁㤡. Beijing: Beijing tushuguan
chubanshe, 2000.
Li Zhizong ᵾ㠤ᘐ. “Postscript.” In Mingjie zenghe qianjia shi zhu ᰾䀓໎઼ॳᇦ䂙⌘ (Clearly
Explicated and Expanded Poems of a Thousand Masters, with Commentary). Beijing:
Guojia tushuguan chubanshe, 1998.
Peng Yuncan ᖝ㰺⫘. Lidai huashi huizhuan ↧ԓ⮛ਢᖉۣ (Collected Records of Painting
History from Past Dynasties). Suzhou: Saoye shanfang, 1882.
Sun Yueban ᆛዣ乂. “Huajia zhuan” ⮛ᇦۣ (Biographies of Painters). In Peiwen zhai shuhua
pu ֙᮷啻ᴨ⮛䆌 (Registry of Painting and Calligraphy of the Peiwen Studio). Suzhou:
Jingyong tang, Kangxi ᓧ⟉ edition.
Wang Keyu ⊚⧲⦹. Shanhu wang ⧺⪊㏢ (Web of Corals), SKQS ഋᓛ‫ޘ‬ᴨ edition. ेӜ Beijing˖1781.
Wang Shipeng ⦻ॱᴻ. “Kou Zhongmin gong Badong ci ji” ᇷᘐ᜽‫ޜ‬ᐤᶡ⾐䁈 (The Honorable
Kou Zhongmin’s Records of Badong Temple). In Meixi ji ẵⓚ䳶 (Collected Works from
Plum Creek), juan 26:10 of the continuation, Sibu congkan ഋ䜘਒࠺ edition. Shanghai:
Shangwu yinshuguan, 1919.
Yuan • The Possibilities and Limits of a Genre
Wang Shizhen ⦻ц䋎. Yiyuan zhiyan 㰍㤁ᐥ䀰 (Humble Words on Art and Literature). See
juan 56 of “Huajia zhuan” ⮛ᇦۣ (Biographies of Painters). In Yuding peiwen zhai
shuhua pu ᗑᇊ֙᮷啻ᴨ⮛䆌 (Imperially Sanctioned Registry of Painting and Calligraphy of the Peiwen Studio).
Xu Jian ᗀี, ed. Chuxue ji ࡍᆨ䁈 (Primary Learning). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962.
Ye Mengde 㩹དྷᗇ. Shilin shihua ⸣᷇䂙䂡 (Poetry Discourse of Shilin). Baichuan xuehai Ⲯᐍ
ᆨ⎧ edition of the Song dynasty, National Library of China, Beijing.
Yu Fengqing 䛱䙒ឦ. Xu shuhua tiba ji 㒼ᴨ⮛乼䏻䁈 (Continued Record of Prefaces and Postscripts to Paintings). Wenyuange ᮷␥䯓 Siku quanshu ഋᓛ‫ޘ‬ᴨ edition. Beijing: 1781.
Zeng Gong ᴮ䶿. Longping ji 䲶ᒣ䳶 (A Collection of Longping). Ming edition, produced by
Mr. Dong 㪓∿ of the Wanjuan lou 㩜ধ⁃ printing establishment.
Zhang Chou ᕥс. Qinghe shu huafang ␵⋣ᴨ⮛㡛 (Record on the Pleasure Boats of Qinghe).
Qing edition, 1763.
Zhu Mouyin ᵡ䄰හ. Huashi huiyao ⮛ਢᴳ㾱 (Guiding Principles of Painting History). Chongzhen ጷ⾾ Ming edition with early Qing supplement, National Library of China, Beijing.
Translator’s Note: This is a translation of an article originally written in Chinese, entitled 䂙᜿
⮛Ⲵオ䰤৺ަ䲀ᓖ: ԕ᰾ӪⲴ֌૱⛪ѝᗳ. When a footnote comes from the original article, it is
given without added notation. Unless there is a note to indicate other wise, all primary source
translations into English are mine. I extend many thanks to my advisor, Shang Wei, for the opportunity to translate this article and for his patient help and comments, and to Cara Ryan for
her careful and instructive editing of an earlier draft.
Notes
1.
This painting is based on a poem in the fu 䌖 style, although originally, poems in the shi
䂙 style were most prolific as poetic source material for lyrical pictures. We can take the
term shiyi hua 䂙᜿⮛ (lyrical picture) to refer to “poetry” in its broadest sense.
2.
These works include Shiyong tu juan ॱ䂐െধ (Painting on the Ten Odes), traditionally attributed to Zhang Xian ᕥ‫ ݸ‬of the Northern Song; Northern Song artist Qiao
Zhongchang’s ௜Ԣᑨ Hou Chibi fu tu juan ᖼ䎔໱െধ (Painting on Later Red Cliff
Rhapsody); Jin artist Wu Yuanzhi’s ↖‫ ⴤݳ‬Chibi tu juan 䎔໱െধ (Painting on Red
Cliff Rhapsody); Southern Song artist Ma Hezhi’s 俜઼ѻ works Hou Chibi fu tu juan ᖼ
䎔໱䌖െধ (Painting on Later Red Cliff Rhapsody), Tang feng tu juan ୀ付െধ (Painting on the Airs from Tang), Lu Ming zhi shi tu juan 咯匤ѻӰെধ (Painting on the Decade of Lu Ming), Xiaoya jie Nanshan zhi shi tu juan ሿ䳵ㇰইኡѻӰെধ (Painting on
the Minor Odes Decade of the Festival of the Southern Mountain), Min Yu Xiao Zi zhi
shi tu juan 䯄ҸሿᆀѻӰെধ (Painting on the Decade of Min You Shao Zi), Zhou song
Qing Miao zhi shi tu juan ઘ丼␵ᔏѻӰെধ (Painting on the Sacrificial Odes of Zhou
and Decade of Qing Miao), Maoshi Chen feng tu juan ∋䂙䲣付െধ (Painting on the
Mao Commentary Version of Airs of Chen), Bin feng tu juan 䊣付െধ (Painting on
the Airs of Bin), Lu song san pian tu juan 冟丼йㇷെধ (Painting on Th ree Pieces from
the Eulogies of Lu), and Yongguo si pian tu juan 䝈഻ഋㇷെধ (Painting on Four Pieces
from the Airs of Yong); as well as Zhao Kui’s 䏉㪥 Du Fu shiyi tu juan ᶌ⭛䂙᜿െধ
(Lyrical Painting on Poems by Du Fu); the unsigned Jiuge tu juan ҍⅼെধ (Painting on
the Nine Songs) (traditionally attributed to Li Gonglin ᵾ‫ޜ‬哏); the unsigned Tian han
cui xiu tu ye ཙሂ㘐㻆െ丱 (Picture of Cold Day, Jade Green Sleeves); Yuan Qianxuan’s
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3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
‫ݳ‬䥒䚨 Gui qu lai tu ↨৫ֶെ (Painting on the Return); and He Cheng’s օ▴ Tao Qian
gui zhuang tu 䲦▋↨㦺െ (Painting on Tao Qian’s Return to His Homestead).
“Shen Zhou” ⊸ઘ, in Zhang, Qinghe shu, juan 12:30.
Han, Tuhui baojian xubian, juan 4:8. In Peng, Lidai huashi huizhuan, Du Jin’s pseudonym Qingxia ting 䶂䵎ӝ is written as Qingxia tingzhang 䶂䵎ӝ䮧. Peng, Lidai
huashi huizhuan, juan 45:4.
Zhu, Huashi huiyao, juan 4:35.
Yu, Xu shuhua tiba ji, juan 5:12.
See Wang Shizhen, Yiyuan zhiyan, and Lidai mingren hua ba, juan 87:15.
Translator’s note: Title translations for these poems are taken from Hawkes, Songs of
the South. I have made one slight alteration by changing the title of “Xiangjun” ⒈ੋ to
“The Lord of the Xiang.” This title better suits the following analysis of the poem and its
corresponding picture.
Hong, Chuci buzhu, 55.
“Shao siming,” in Hong, Chuci buzhu, 73.
Han, Tuhui baojian xubian, 15.
Lu Zhi, in Wang K., Shanhu wang, juan 41:15.
Translator’s note: The author notes that the two characters “chitang ⊐ຈ” (pond)
should be written instead as “chiting ⊐ӝ” (pavilion by the pond). My translation of the
poem reflects this alteration.
Translator’s note: The author notes that the character “geng ᴤ” (even more) should be
written instead as “bei ‫( ”ؽ‬doubly, or multiple). My translation of the poem reflects this
alteration.
Sun, “Huajia zhuan,” juan 57:60, item 13.
Ji Shiying, preface to Huang, Tangshi wuyan huapu, 1.
Xu, Chuxue ji, 473.
Translator’s note: The author notes that the character “yin ᕅ” (to extend) should be
written as “yin 䳡” (hidden). My translation of the poem reflects this change.
Gao, “Cen Shen,” juan 4:3.
Zhu, Huashi huiyao, 59.
See the reprinted facsimile edition for which Li Zhizong ᵾ㠤ᘐ has composed a postscript: Mingjie zenghe Qianjia shi.
Deng, Huaji, juan 1:3.
Zeng, Longping ji, juan 4:13.
Wang Shipeng, “Kou Zhongmin gong Badong ci ji,” juan 26:10.
Translator’s note: Each of these citations is a famous phrase from Tang poet Liu
Zongyuan’s ḣᇇ‫“ ݳ‬Jiang xue” ⊏䴚 (Snow on the River).
Some say that this line was written by Du Fu, but I suspect that this is a false assertion.
See Cai, Caotang shihua, 12.
According to Ye, Shilin shihua, juan 2:2, this line is by Wang Anshi ⦻ᆹ⸣˖“In a thicket
of ten thousand green branches, there is one fleck of red. / There need not be an excess
of spring color to move a person’s heart” ◳㐁㩜᷍㌵а悧ˈअӪ᱕㢢н丸ཊ.
Zhu, Huashi huiyao, juan 2:2.