Collection of Poems by Middle-aged and Young Famous Artists - (First Series) (Complete Ten Volumes)

Author: Huang Jun / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features: The Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching. Coincidentally, book friend Lai De arrived in Beijing from Gansu and stopped in Zhengzhou to visit friends. I, together with book friends Zhou Shijun, Hongyuan, Zhu Ming, Mr. Feng Qiping, and others, hosted a farewell and welcome party for Lai De at Shizilou, enjoying hearty drinks. During the gathering, we discussed art and life, with conversations ranging widely and being immensely enjoyable—truly forgetting gains and losses, finding joy in the moment.
After the banquet, we walked to a studio for tea. This studio was generously provided by Lai De’s friend, Lao Le. It spans about 200 square meters and is filled with Han jars, terracotta figures, celadon wares with Wei-style carvings, and exotic rocks and plants, exuding a serene charm. The long desk there made us eager to write. The tea was not enough to satisfy our spirits, so we all took up brushes, wielding large, long-handled goat-hair brushes, and wildly scribbled and painted, singing at the top of our lungs, dancing joyfully, and immersed in bliss. Suddenly, we looked back and found the floor covered in countless characters.
The mystery of calligraphy leads us from the world of () symbols to the world of () forms. Prosperity and decline, birth and death, all surge in the brushwork in an instant. As dawn breaks, we realize that life is a fleeting encounter, and time is irreplaceable. Time flies, though people and things may change, only the beauty left behind in a moment lasts forever. Neighbors and distant friends gather together, testing their skills with doodles and paper.
The autumn wind is fierce as clouds and rain swirl, and the leaves turn yellow as if stones are falling from the sky. Whether shouting softly or loudly, we follow our inspiration, losing ourselves in a trance, as if drunk and unrestrained. It turns out that talent and innocence naturally emerge—unaware of fame and fortune, but deeply appreciating the fragrance of ink.
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