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Zong Shaowen (Zong Bing)
- Qin Shi #102 |
宗少文(宗炳) 1
琴史 #102 2 |
Zong Shaowen, the style name of Zong Bing (375-443), is perhaps now best known as author of the earliest writings on Chinese painting, in particular his essay called "Preface on Landscape Painting".3 He was (see Giles, Tsung Ping) carefully raised by his mother, passed the exams but refused office, then wandered about playing the qin; his wife also like to wander. His home was filled with paintings of places he had traveled.
Xu Jian has further information: see QSCB, 4A.
The original biography in Qin Shi is as follows.
Footnotes (Shorthand references are explained on a
separate page)
1.
宗炳 Zong Bing
7249.118 宗炳 Zong Bing, style name 宗少文 Zong Shaowen; See Xu Jian, QSCB, p.41; Giles
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3.
Zong Bing, Preface on Landscape Painting (畫山水序 Hua Shanshui Xu)
This is a surviving art-theory text attributed to Zong Bing, and is often regarded as among the earliest landscape-painting statements to come down to us. It does not survive as an independent book, but as embedded segments in later compilations — most famously as an essay in Volume 6 of 《歷代名畫記》 Record of Famous Paintings through History, by 張彥遠 Zhang Yanyuan (Wiki; c.815-c.877). That volume includes a brief biographical notice on Zong Bing (much of it resembling the entry in Qin Shi), then introduces his Hua Shanshui Xu and quotes it as follows:
聖人含道暎物,賢者澄懷味像。至於山水,質有而趣靈,是以軒轅、堯、孔、廣成、大隗、許由、孤竹之流,必有崆峒、具茨、藐姑[射]、箕[山]首[陽]、大蒙之遊焉,又稱仁智之樂焉。-The sage contains the Dao and illuminates things; the worthy clear the breast-and-mind and savor images. As for mountains and waters: their substance is present, yet their appeal is numinous. Thus Xuanyuan (the Yellow Emperor), Yao, Confucius, Guangcheng, Da Kui, Xu You, and (the sons of) Guzhu — all such men — necessarily had their wanderings to (mountains such as) Kongtong, Juci, far-off Gu(ye), Ji–Shou (Jishan and Shouyangshan), and Dameng; and they too spoke of “the joy of the benevolent and the wise.”
夫聖人以神法道而賢者通,山水以形媚道而仁者樂,不亦幾乎?余眷戀廬、衡,契濶荊、巫,不知老之將至。愧不能凝氣怡身,傷跕石門之流。於是畫象布色,構茲雲嶺。
Now the sage, by spirit, models himself on the Dao, and the worthy attain communion with it; mountains and waters, by their forms, delight the Dao, and the benevolent take joy in them — is this not indeed near to the point? I have long been devoted to Lu (Lushan in Jiangxi) and Heng (Hengshan in Hunan), and long separated from Jing (the middle Yangzi region) and Wu (Mount Wu / the Three Gorges), without noticing that old age was drawing near. Ashamed that I cannot congeal the vital breath and ease the body, I grieve that I cannot tread in the footsteps of the “Stone Gate” recluses and wanderers. And so I paint images and lay on colors, constructing these cloud-ridged peaks.
夫理絕於中古之上者,可意求於千載之下。旨微於言象之外者,可心取於書策之內。況乎身所盤桓,目所綢繆,以形寫形,以色貌色也。
Principles cut off from middle antiquity may still be mentally sought a thousand years later; meanings subtle beyond words and images may still be grasped by the heart within books and records — how much more what my own body once roamed among, what my eyes once traced and lingered over: using form to render form, using color to give shape to color.
且夫崑崙山之大、瞳子之小,迫目以寸,則其形莫覩;逈以數里,則可圍於寸眸。誠由去之稍濶,則其見彌小。今張綃素以遠暎,則崑、閬之形,可圍於方寸之內。竪劃三寸,當千仞之高;橫墨數尺,體百里之逈。是以觀畫圖者,徒患類之不巧,不以制小而累其似,此自然之勢。
Consider: Kunlun (mountain) is vast, yet the pupil of the eye is tiny. Press (an image) close to within an inch of the eye, and its form cannot be seen; set it several miles away, and it may be encompassed within an inch-wide gaze. Indeed, as distance opens out, what is seen becomes the smaller. Now if one stretches out plain silk and uses it to “reflect the far,” then even the forms of (the mythical) Kun(lun) and Lang(feng) may be enclosed within a square inch. A vertical stroke three inches long may stand for a height of a thousand ren; a few feet of horizontal ink may embody a distance of a hundred li. Therefore those who view painted images only worry that the resemblance has not been made skillful; they do not treat smallness of scale as something that harms likeness — this is simply the natural tendency of things.
如是則嵩、華之秀,玄牝之靈,皆可得之於一圖矣。
If so, then the finest excellence of Song (Songshan) and Hua (Huashan), and the numinous potency of the “Mysterious Feminine” (the generative source), may all be obtained within a single painting.
夫以應目會心爲理者,類之成巧,則目亦同應,心亦俱會。應會感神,神超理得,雖復虛求幽巖, 何以加焉!又神本亡端,棲形感類,理入影跡,誠能妙寫,亦誠盡矣。
If one takes “the eye responding and the heart meeting” as the guiding principle, then once resemblance has been made with skill, the eye too responds, and the heart too meets. When response and meeting stir the spirit, the spirit transcends and the principle is grasped: even if one were, thereafter, to go seeking secluded cliffs and hidden crags — what could be added beyond this? Moreover, spirit in itself has no fixed beginning or end. It alights within form and is moved by kinds; principle enters into shadow and trace. If one can depict with wondrous subtlety, then one has indeed carried it to its fullest.
於是閒居理氣,拂觴鳴琴,披圖幽對,坐究四荒。不違天勵之藂,獨應亡人之野。 峯岫嶤嶷,雲林森眇。聖賢暎於絕代,萬趣融其神思。
Thus, dwelling at leisure and putting in order my vital energies, I lift the wine-cup and sound the qin; I unroll paintings and quietly face them, sitting to fathom what is out there in all four directions. Without departing from the clustered stir that Heaven rouses, alone I answer the wilds where men are gone. Peaks and hill-hollows rise rugged and steep; cloud-woods are dense and deep. Sages and worthies shine across ages cut off from ours; the myriad delights merge into their spirit-thought.
余復何爲哉?暢神而已。神之所暢,孰有先焉?」
What then do I do more? I merely let the spirit roam freely — and when the spirit is set free, what could come before it?
The following analysis of this article is intended as a reference for the article Playing the Qin in Nature. It suggests that, for the landscape painter, the outward journey is primarily for experience and observation, while the finished work is conceived and completed in quiet “at home” contemplation. Should it be different for qin players? What, if anything, is gained by actually taking a qin outdoors to play in nature?
Zong Bing approaches this issue in the following ways,
夫理絕於中古之上者,可意求於千載之下。旨微於言象之外者,可心取於書策之內。
“Principles… can be sought by intent a thousand years later” / “subtle meanings… can be grasped by the heart within books.”
This is his most explicit theoretical statement. It asserts that direct presence is not required for understanding: “意求” and “心取” are internal acts. What is distant in time — and, by extension, distant in space — may be reached through the mind.
況乎身所盤桓,目所綢繆……
How much more what my own body once roamed among, what my eyes once traced and lingered over: using form to render form, using color to give shape to color.
This is not “you must be on-site while painting.” Rather, it argues: if even remote principles can be grasped inwardly, then how much more can what one has personally roamed to and carefully observed be re-formed later in the studio. The implied sequence is “observe → internalize → compose,” not “compose only while observing.”
今張綃素以遠暎……可圍於方寸之內。
“If one stretches plain silk and uses it to reflect what is far … it may be enclosed within a square inch.”
Here he argues that the painted surface is precisely a device for bringing distant mountains into the near, and for containing vastness within small scale. This naturally supports studio painting and studio viewing as legitimate ways of “roaming” landscape.
披圖幽對,坐究四荒。
“I unroll paintings and quietly face them, sitting to fathom the four wildernesses.”
This is the most concrete “at home” image: sitting indoors with a painting unrolled, one can still “investigate the four wilds.” In other words, landscape may be encountered through contemplation as well as through travel.
雖復虛求幽巖,何以加焉!
“Even if one were thereafter to go seeking secluded cliffs and hidden crags — what could be added beyond this?”
Meaning: once “eye and heart respond together” through painting, even renewed physical searching would add little. This is as close as he comes to saying that the experience does not require on-site presence.
To sum up, writings about painting rarely state outright that it is better to paint at home; yet their emphasis consistently falls on purification, inward grasp, selection, and composition — and they offer few narratives of painters completing finished landscapes while still on-site.
A painter who did like to paint from actual images is
Guo Xi (1020 - ca. 1090).
Guo Xi one wrote:
真山水之川谷遠望之以取其勢,近看之以取其質。
Perhaps the rarity of such comments reflect that this was not a common practice.
4.
楊觀 Yang Guan
Return to QSCB,
or to Qin biographies.
A counter argument
學畫山水者何以異此?蓋身即山川而取之,則山水之意度見矣。
How could one who studies to paint landscape do otherwise? One must place one’s own body amid the mountains and streams and take them from there; only then do the intent and measure of landscape become apparent.
As for the valleys and ravines of true mountains-and-waters: view them from afar to seize their overall configuration and dynamic force; view them up close to seize their substance and texture.
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15489.xxx; Bio/xxx; 宋書,隱勉. His title 樂師 yueshi suggests he was a court musician.
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