Niu Yide's Artistic Musings

Author: Ni Yide
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1999-11-01
Features: Artistic essays are a highly favored genre among readers in literature. The authors often possess unique insights into art or are accomplished artists in the art world, expressing their views on art and life through literary techniques. "Modern Masters' Artistic Essays" selects five works by renowned modern artists: Xu Beihong's Artistic Essays, Feng Zikai's Artistic Essays, Lin Fengmian's Artistic Essays, Ni Yide's Artistic Essays, and Fu Lei's Artistic Essays. Ni Yide was a painter with a distinctive artistic style, skilled in portraiture and landscape painting. His works emphasized bold composition, decisiveness, clarity, simplicity, and solidity, with precise brushwork that conveyed much meaning with few strokes. His color palettes were fresh and bright, demonstrating strong summarization. Beyond his achievements in art history, Ni Yide's novels, essays, and poetry were characterized by (simple and sincere) language, rich in life (vividness), and highly readable. Especially his artistic essays, which offered unique perspectives on the world and its people through the eyes of an artist. Ni Yide's Artistic Essays collects over 30 of his essays. Excerpt: Nostalgia / Ni Yide
When I first arrived at the banks of the Qinhuai River, the autumn cicadas were loud, and the osmanthus fragrance was clear. This ancient city in autumn could not help but exude a sense of desolation; and I, a (wandering) and melancholic person, found the hardships of being in a foreign land even more unbearable than others. Thus, I spent my days huddled in a small room, constantly thinking of my hometown, of the Huangpu River shores where I had long resided, and of the friends I lived with daily. Comparing then and now, joy and sorrow had changed so greatly, and I regretted my decision to have wandered far away.
One afternoon, my colleague, Mr. Wan, seeing how lonely I was, came over and invited me:
—Sitting here must be torment. Let’s go for a walk.
—Alright, let’s go together. I, of course, expressed my sympathy with pleasure.
We wandered through several narrow streets, passing under ancient Roman-style archways. Gradually, the city receded, and the mountains opened up, revealing strange-looking donkey riders and stone-seller boys from the north. Oh, we had reached the place where Fang Xiaoru was buried, by the ancient strategic stronghold of Yuhuatai.
On Yuhuatai, traces of past battles remained—deep moats, high fortresses—reminding one of the heroic spirit of knights and drums in those days. Now, withered grass and crumbling ruins lay silently under the autumn afternoon light, evoking images of battlefield bones and fallen warriors. I gazed around and saw a majestic stone city enclosing tens of thousands of homes. Dragon-like mountains rose in all directions, their undulating peaks and valleys stretching endlessly. A thin line of the Yangtze River seemed to cling to the horizon, and on this day, with a dusty sky, the pale sunlight casting down from above made the desolate ancient battlefield seem vast and untamed, as if a million troops were lurking, ready to fight.
As I stood there, staring blankly, Mr. Wan beside me suddenly pointed to a white spot on a hill and said:
—That’s Tianbao Castle!
—Oh, that’s the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum. Then he pointed to some red walls at the foot of a mountain.
—That’s the Bell and Drum Tower. And he pointed to a huge, imposing building.
He pointed to many famous scenic spots nearby, his face beaming with pride, as if deliberately showing off his hometown’s beauty. But did he ever know me—once I had seen the ocean, nothing else could compare! These dry, tasteless sights could not compare to even one percent of my hometown. My hometown had mountains blooming with azaleas in spring, willow banks where orioles sang endlessly, misty clouds in the Lixia and Sansu temples, graceful figures in the clear waters, and—ah! My beloved hometown! You were my childhood companion, your bright face, your delicate shadow, your melodious voice—deeply imprinted in my heart. Though foreign flowers and plants might tempt me, I would never forget you. I wonder when I will return, float back to your embrace, and pour out my longing and sorrow to you in detail.