Literary silhouette

Author: Gao Mang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-09-01
Features: On January 11th, the renowned writer and painter Gao Mang, Huang Yonghou, and Mu Hui personally visited Beijing Book Building to meet and hold a discussion with enthusiastic readers, and signed copies of their latest work, "The Traveling Poet Series," published by Wuhan Publishing House. "The Traveling Poet Series" is a collection of essays and sketches that blend literature and art, written and illustrated by Gao Mang ("Portraits of Scholars"), Mu Hui and Huang Yonghou/Fang Cheng ("Reading Pictures and Recognizing Places"), Han Yu ("Following the Horse Where It Goes"), and five other volumes including "Three Records of Easy and Hard" by Hubei writer Zhou Yinan and "Mid-Century Thoughts" by Chen Yingsong.
Liu Shudu—now, few may recognize this name. She was one of the few female seal carvers in China and an elder figure in the field. If one carefully examines the scrolls or books of Mr. Lu Xun, they might find the seals—"Lu Xun" or "Lvjun"—both of which were carved by Liu Shudu. On September 26, 1981, I came to a lane near White Pagoda Temple and paid a visit to Ms. Liu. She lived in a large courtyard complex, in the deepest part of it. The northern room was tall, but the walls were long overdue for repair. Inside, there were a few pieces of old furniture. In the back room lived an elderly woman, seemingly older than Ms. Liu. Ms. Liu wore a gray khaki shirt with only a few buttons fastened. Her hair was straight and gray, her complexion fair, without wrinkles or age spots, though her hands were somewhat rough. In reality, she was already in her eighties. She gave off an impression of vitality and spoke with great confidence. Ms. Liu told me that in her youth, she had a wide range of interests: literature, painting, photography, and seal carving. She said, "I still remember my teacher telling me, 'Many who try fail to succeed.' Even after decades, those words remain etched in my mind." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "I had originally wanted to study medicine at a medical university, but because my English was poor, I didn’t get in. In 1925, I entered the Chinese Department of Beijing Women’s Normal School."
"Why did you fall in love with this niche craft like seal carving?" I asked curiously. "Seal carving is a traditional art in China," she replied calmly. Historically, there had been very few female seal carvers in China. She recalled her youth: "I started carving rubber stamps. My grandfather didn’t stop me but instead gave me some stones for carving seals. The more I carved, the more I did, from my teens to my eighties, never stopping, though I didn’t focus on it during my studies." Seal carving, she said, was something she took up after leaving school. Liu Shudu mentioned that she had studied under the renowned master He Kongcai and later received true tutelage from Qi Baishi. As she recalled the past, she took out a few treasured copies of her "Seal Anthology." I was amazed. This was truly a rare and precious collection. I saw a compilation of her works carved over decades, as well as comments from masters like He Kongcai and Qi Baishi on many of her pieces.
"This precious material should be published so that everyone can see it," I said. She smiled faintly and said nothing more, perhaps hiding some unspoken reasons. Qi Baishi wrote, "The spirit of craftsmanship has always belonged to scholars, and I’ve never heard of a woman excelling in it. My disciple Liu Shudu’s seal carving, though initially learning the Han style, often presented me with printed seals. Her seal script and cutting lack the softness of a woman’s hand, drawing on the strengths of the ancients while discarding the weaknesses of her teachers. It stands out as exceptional among women."
Noticing that I was reading carefully, Ms. Liu explained that this was the preface to her seal anthology written by the late Mr. Qi. He Kongcai’s comments were very specific. For example, on the seal she carved with the characters "Lu Xun," he wrote, "The character 'Xun' is excellent, but 'Lu' is not very stable." On the seal "Lvjun," he remarked, "The character 'Jun' is excellent, but 'Lü' should be written as it often appears in gold inscriptions."
How did Liu Shudu carve the name seals for Mr. Lu Xun? While studying at the normal school, Ms. Liu had a close friend named Gao Junzhen, who was the wife of Zheng Zhenduo. After graduating, Ms. Liu became a teacher. One day, Zheng Zhenduo asked Liu Shudu to carve a seal for Mr. Lu Xun, allowing her to choose between "Lu Xun" and "Lvjun." Knowing she would be carving for such a great writer, Liu Shudu was overjoyed. She carved both names into seals. "Lu Xun" was in white script, and "Lvjun" was in red script. She poured a great deal of effort into carving them, revising them repeatedly but never fully satisfied. She turned to He Kongcai and Qi Baishi for advice. She had intended to carve them again, but Zheng Zhenduo came to collect the finished pieces.
"I heard that the Lu Xun Museum went through quite a bit of trouble to determine who carved these seals," I said. "Yes," she replied. "I didn’t carve my name on the seals at the time." The Lu Xun Memorial Hall sent someone to her home with the two white Shoushan stone name seals to verify the situation, and after comparing them with her seal anthology, they confirmed her identity. The past unfolded before her like a series of scenes. She even remembered why she chose Shoushan stone, why she didn’t carve an inscription, and why she didn’t leave her name.
I asked if she had carved name seals for others. She flipped through her seal anthology and counted: Zheng Zhenduo, Bing Xin, Tai Jingnong, Zhu Ziqing, Xu Shoutang, Qian Xuantong, Guo Shaoyu. These were all things of half a century ago. Curious, I asked, "How many seals have you carved in your life?" "Over a thousand," she replied calmly, then added shyly, "Back then, Mr. Qi Baishi carved a seal for me called 'Thousand Seal Hall,' which was both a and encouragement. I can’t let him down."
I calculated that it was 1931, when Ms. Liu was 32. She said, "Next time you come, I’ll show you other seal anthologies." I expressed my sincere gratitude in advance. From Ms. Liu, I increasingly felt the lofty and humble virtues of Chinese women—unassuming and selfless, devoted to others. Perhaps this was the reason she had long kept her name hidden. Faced with such a woman, I couldn’t help but feel deep admiration and sketched a few quick portraits of her as a keepsake. Later, I painted a larger portrait based on those sketches and presented it to her. To my surprise, she carved two name seals in return.
As I admired her craftsmanship, she whispered softly, "I’m getting old now, my wrist strength isn’t what it used to be." One year, after returning to Beijing from a trip to the south, I eagerly went to visit Ms. Liu, hoping to see her precious seal anthology again. As I entered the familiar courtyard, a woman whispered to me, "Ms. Liu isn’t here anymore." I couldn’t have misheard. I regretted coming too late. When I reached the front of the room where she had lived, it was dark. Only her seal anthology shone brightly in my mind.