Ironing self-selected collection

Author: Fei Ning / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Illustrations hold a significant place in my childhood and teenage reading memories. Picture books and illustrated novels, for instance, played a vital role. Take the 1960s, when I read the serial illustrations by Mr. He Youzhi titled Great Changes in the Mountain Village. There was a supporting character named Ting Mianhu, who drank with others. The scene depicted two people gathered around a broken square table, with a dish of appetizers in the center. The dish consisted of irregularly shaped, randomly sketched pieces, yet they made me feel exceptionally aromatic and triggered a strong appetite. This amusing sensation stemmed from the material scarcity of that era, as well as my heightened sensitivity to "eating," which overshadowed He Youzhi’s artistic mastery in creating the illustrations. Regardless, Great Changes in the Mountain Village remains etched in my memory. Another example is my teenage years, when I read many illustrated thrillers from the former Soviet Union. I believed those "cool-looking" illustrations greatly aided my understanding of the novels, allowing me to immerse myself more deeply and gain direct insights into spies and "good people" as if watching a movie. They also made the stories more vivid and engaging.
I first read Sun Li’s novella The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu before turning 20. This 45,000-word novel was published in 1959 by the newly established Hundred Flowers Literature and Art Publishing House as a hardcover and paperback illustrated edition, which was quite prestigious at the time. I read the paperback edition. Beyond being moved by Sun Li’s narrative, what left a deep impression on me were the illustrations by artist Zhang Deyu for The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu. Among them, the illustration of Xiaomaner sitting on the kang (traditional bed) with one hand holding a bowl to drink water remains unforgettable. Xiaomaner is a key female character in The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu, and I’ve always considered her one of Sun Li’s most humanly radiant female portrayals. She cannot be summarized solely as glamorous or alluring; nor can she be reduced to cunning or vanity; nor can she be labeled as passionate or innocent alone. She seems to embody a complex blend of such adjectives, and the author expressed her with equally complex emotions. In the illustration, Xiaomaner, arriving late at night at the (official)’s quarters where she stayed, sits casually on the kang without any hesitation, asking the official to pour her a bowl of water. The lone cohabitation of a man and woman at night, combined with the village’s rumors about her, made the official wary. Yet she engages in a relaxed conversation, exploring how to understand people’s hearts. At that moment, her gaze was pure, free of seductive intent, though she was undeniably beautiful that night. The handkerchief tied around her head, adorned with a peony pattern, perfectly aligned with her forehead, casting a mysterious yet proud aura over her. It suggested that beneath her frivolity and casualness, her emotional depths were filled with numerous hardships and sorrows. Below the illustration, there is a line of text from the novel: “Understanding a person is difficult, at least now, he cannot fully guess this woman’s feelings.” Mr. Zhang Deyu chose and depicted Xiaomaner with profound insight, capturing the indescribable depth Sun Li her. The artistic value of this illustration from the 1950s is no less than the novel itself. I have always believed that painting such a single portrait with watercolors, conveying such a delicate inner world, is incredibly challenging. Yet Zhang Deyu’s illustrations, with seemingly effortless brushwork, accurately and vividly portrayed the flesh and blood of a literary character and her complex, enchanting personality, truly earning admiration. To this day, no illustrations for Chinese literary works have surpassed the depth of Zhang Deyu’s few frames, and he himself has never achieved greater mastery.
My illustrated edition of The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu was lost during several moves. During a gathering with friends, my colleague, the poet Liu Xiaofang, heard that I was searching for the illustrations and generously lent me his () The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu for photographing the illustrations. I brought Liu Xiaofang’s edition home, revisiting the moving art of Sun Li and Zhang Deyu, and also glimpsing the affection of a poet who loved them. On the book’s flyleaf, there is a line of childlike pencil writing: “Purchased in Huanghua in 1962.” Beside it, his seal rests. Opening the novel, I noticed pencil underlines in various passages, marking sentences he deemed brilliant. At that time, Liu Xiaofang was still a young man under 20, but his devotion to literature was evident in this book.
Recently, I finally contacted Zhang Deyu, who now lives in Tianjin. As my father’s long-time friend, I call him Uncle Zhang. From Uncle Zhang, I learned that the original illustrations for The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu were destroyed during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s, and he himself suffered greatly as a result. When we discussed these past events, he grew somber. Only when I steered the conversation toward the circumstances of the illustrations’ creation did he become animated. It was in the late 1950s, shortly after he graduated from the Central Academy of Fine Arts and was assigned to the Hundred Flowers Literature and Art Publishing House. Upon reading The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu, he was deeply moved and proposed to the leadership that he wanted to illustrate the novel, even traveling to rural areas in Jizhong to experience life firsthand. Though he too came from a rural background and had images of girls like Xiaomaner in his mind, he meticulously went to the Jizhong plains, distinct from his native Shandong. He also recounted that after completing the work, he went to Sun Li’s home for feedback. Sun Li excitedly called out his wife, and together they asked Zhang Deyu: “Have you ever met Xiaomaner?” Zhang Deyu had not, but the astonishment of Sun Li and his wife signaled his success.
I rarely hear writers acknowledge illustrators, and I well understand the difficulty of capturing the characters a writer cherishes in art. Yet Zhang Deyu succeeded—he painted the Xiaomaner in Sun Li’s heart, elevating The Prequel to the Tale of Tie and Mu to an extraordinary significance.
Today, we live in an era of media saturation, with television, the internet, and endless images overwhelming us. Illustrations and picture books have faded from our lives. I cherish these seemingly economically unviable and "labor-intensive" art forms not just for nostalgia. Outstanding illustrations and picture books retain their independent value—they are not machine-made but the product of human contemplation and craftsmanship, radiating a tangible human essence and the true blood and flesh of their creators.