Some Chinese Paintings

To fulfill the "non-western" requirement of my art history major, I took a class on the art of China, Japan, and Korea. Although there were many highlights of the course, I was most fascinated by the various traditions of painting and calligraphy. Such a fine line separates the two practices that we might say they stand at either end of a spectrum of drawing, from the most everyday writing to the most elaborately shaded and precise of landscapes. Browsing the auction catalog of an upcoming sale of Chinese painting at Sotheby's, I was impressed by how these subtle relationships continued to come into play in twentieth-century art.

This painting, Fishing Boats After Rain, was done by Zhao Shao'ang in 1963, with ink and color on paper. I love the atmospheric washes and its composition, the strong horizontals of the boats balanced by the verticals of the calligraphy, reeds, and poles. Its precise drawing and subtle lawyers of color remind me of Japanese prints.

This piece by Yu Fei'an, Green Bird on Maple Tree, combines subtle modeling in the bird and branches with extremely flat, abstracted leaves. The calligraphy in the upper left corner also seems particularly beautiful, balanced yet dashing. The piece consists of ink and color on paper and dates from 1948.

Amusingly titled Why So Stubborn, this painting by Li Keran shows what mere ink can do. With no underdrawing, the artist uses a few deft strokes to define the figure's loose clothing, the tension of the rope, the solid muscularity of the bull, and the agitated expression of the calligraphy.

This painting of Goldfish by Wu Zuoren from 1978 brilliantly captures a view underwater with incredibly descriptive washes of ink. The calligraphy uses a bolder line but seems equally aqueous in style, a perfect marriage of image and text.




















The piece on the left dates from 1927 but its traditional style could place it much earlier (at least to a novice's eye like mine). It is a landscape by Zeng Xi, depicting the familiar mountains shrouded in mist. The artist inscribed the work (with calligraphy) and sealed it (with the red stamps) both when it was first painted and again later on. The painting was also, according to the Chinese tradition, marked with the annotations and seals of later collectors. These additions include the titleslip of a noted calligrapher and collector Deng Erya and an annotation and two seals by Zhang Daqian. On the right is Poem in Xingshu by Qi Baishi, which gives us a closer look at a relatively free-form style of Chinese calligraphy, considered more casual and artistic. (I'm treading on thin memories here. I seem to recall there were three main styles of calligraphy, an official more block like form based on ancient text, a more everyday standardized type, and a more conciously casual and artistic style employed by the "ameteur" painters or literati, and that Japanese calligraphy on the whole is thinner, looser, and more stylized.) Of course the viewer's appreciation of calligraphy would be enhanced if one could read the language, but one can also evaluate a piece of calligraphy on purely visual grounds. Calligraphy should be balanced, both within each character and within each column of script. Each character should be distinct yet relate visually to the characters around it.




















On the left we see Crane by Ding Yanyong, ink on a paper hanging scroll from 1977, in which painting is taken to a calligraphic extreme. The crane is defined by one unbroken line indistinguishable in style from the writing on the left. Another hanging scroll on the right is Calligraphy by Shi Lu, showing writing at its painterly extreme, in which the characters are so abstracted, or perhaps I should say so stylized, that they become almost figurative.

This is Bird and Rock by Zhang Daqian, the artist who at one time owned Zeng Xi's landscape shown above. Daqian's painting is done with ink on gold paper and dates from the Lantern Festival of 1969. It seems a good synthesis of some of the qualities I've been exploring. The subtlty of ink wash, the deft use of calligraphic lines to describe a landscape. The complimentary composition between the picture and the calligraphy to the side, and between that line of calligraphy and every character within it. I think what impresses me most about these works, or about Chinese drawing more generally, is its incredible economy, an economy of paint strokes that calls for both rigid control and fluid dexterity. The beauty of depicting an entire world in so few touches of ink on paper that you can count them there on the page (imagine trying to count all the brushstrokes in a painting by Pollock or any other "western" artist) is a beauty that continues to take my breath away.

Strike a Match!

Smart women do indeed light the way. This box of matches is obviously a gift from my mother, and it forms the centerpiece of my collection of matchbooks and boxes. I grab one from every bar or restaurant that has them printed up and keep them in a fishbowl on my bookshelf. Sorting through them brings memories to mind of nights out with friends and favorite spots in cities near and far. But these matchbooks are charming not only for their associations but also as marvels of design.

Sometimes it is the construction of the box itself that makes you smile. This mini box of Marlboros, filled with matches rather than cigs, was grabbed for me by Danielle, whose zeal often adds gems to my collection. In the center is an extra-small box from The Room, a truly tiny Soho wine bar. On the right an oblong triangular box encourages us to light up.

Any good matchbook brings to mind the spot that it advertises. The book on the left obvioulsy uses a compass to refer to the name of that restaurant, but it also alludes to the restaurant's atmosphere through its color scheme and typeface. Similarly, the box on the right, with its silver art deco lettering on a shiny black background, admirable recalls the vintage chic of Circa Tabac, a smoking lounge in the Village.

Chinoisoire goes to town in these matchbooks. On the left is a spoil from the most recent Restaurant Week, when Ricardo and his mom took us out to dinner at a new place called Chinatown, right around the corner from his loft. The restaurant was like a set out of Shanghai Express, and I kept expecting Marlene Dietrich to come swaning through the door. I must admit I have no idea where the box on the right came from, but isn't it fun?

Figuration rarely makes an appearance on matchbooks, but in these cases it does so with aplomb. I love the rather surrealist femme fatale, reflected by a billard ball, that is used as the mascot for ABC. The book on the right exudes all the latent tension and glamour of film noir, through the figure of a fuzzy man in a fedora.

Here is the best of the rest, and what memories they bring to mind! There's Hideout, our nighborhood bar in Paris, and Old Glory, a monument to preppy slumming in Georgetown. Uptown locals like Henry's and Lime Leaf mix with dowtown haunts (Milady's!). I'll always remember a roadtrip with Laura by this matchbook from the Firefly Cafe in Savannah, while underage evenings dancing along to George's band, the Philadelphia Funk Authority, are immortalized by the matchbook from Le Bar Bat.









I'll close with this lovely red matchbox from Balthazar, which is novel for using both sides to fully illustrate that restaurant's glamorous bistro atmosphere. Do you have an unusual matchbook kicking around somewhere? Stick it in a fishbowl and watch your collection grow.

Luncheon with Tiffany's

For the first time this year, I'm wearing a dress with no stockings. It's a cream dress with a large scale sort of paisley design in red, orange and pink, with ruffles along the neckline and finishing off the half-length sleeves. It exudes spring. And when I found myself on the Tiffany's website this morning (for work, I swear!), I realized my dress had a certain similarity to certain lines of Tiffany china, which exude spring with equal fervor. The bright white backgrounds, decorated with sprightly animals and spring green foliage, make me think of luncheons on the terrace. I happen to have a terrace, and if I also had a garden table, potted plants, and a kitchen, I would serve a very light, three-course lunch on these beautiful dishes.










We would eat of off my favorite china pattern, Tiffany's Federal. I like that it's colorfully traditional while still relatively understated. If I couldn't find anything to serve in this covered vegetable bowl, I would still put in the middle of the table. It's graceful lines make a great centerpeice.










I would serve actual food on these pieces from the Jardin pattern. On the left is a regular old dinner plate, if you can so describe anything that costs $470, made in the Paris Studio from Limoges porcelain. On the right is a hand-painted piece mysteriously described as a "Mocha Tray."










I myself would wait to serve dessert on this exuberantly decorated Audobon china. We could eat macaroons on the dessert plates at left, with their central design of a pagoda-shaped birdcage. And we could drink hot chocolate from the chocolatier on the right, which Tiffany's calls a "Moka coffee pot." And then, having completed our luncheon on Limoges, we would set out to buy a new crop of spring frocks and peekaboo shoes.