Cui Ruzhuo's Technique for Painting Lotus

Author: Cui Ruzhuo / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-12-01
Features: The great poet Qu Yuan said in Li Sao, "I made garments of lotus leaves and robes of fragrant orchids." For over two thousand years since then, there have been no fewer than ten thousand poems and essays praising the lotus. Among those that speak profoundly and possess a philosophical depth, personifying and ethically elevating the flower, none surpass Zhou Dunyi of the Song Dynasty: "I love the lotus for emerging from the mud without being stained, and for being washed by clear water without becominglicious. It is straight and unbranched, with no creeping vines. Its fragrance reaches far and becomes clearer. It stands tall and pure, to be viewed from afar but not touched intimately. The lotus is the gentleman of flowers."
Loving to grow, paint, and write about flowers, artists in the East have used the spirit of flowers to purify their souls and enrich the vast world, a quality more unique to Eastern artists than Western painters. Although I also respect Monet's masterpiece Water Lilies, which exudes countless moods, my friend Cui Ruzhuo shares this passion and could be said to be obsessed with the lotus. In his lifetime, he has painted the lotus no fewer than three thousand times, spreading them across a grand square. From a high vantage point, it truly matches Lu You's words: "Countless lotus flowers fill the shores." It is indeed a spectacular sight in the world.
Cui Ruzhuo is a renowned Chinese painter and calligrapher, collector, and connoisseur across the Atlantic. Even in his early years, he received praise from the master Gu Chen. His works are valued by famous figures such as Zhang Daqian, Soong Mei-ling, Ronald Reagan, and Henry Kissinger. When we examine his forty or so lotus paintings and carefully analyze their brushwork, we will find that the flower is the form, while the essence lies in the landscape. Thus, the style is noble, and the brushwork is lively and harmonious. On the back of the paintings, we can faintly see the realistic precision of Song Dynasty art and the strong lyrical spirit of Yuan Dynasty painting, permeating the entire piece.
He has absorbed the styles of Gong Xian, Shi Xi, Shi Tao, Ba Da, Huang Binhong, Fu Baoshi, as well as Western landscape paintings with prominent abstract beauty. None of them resemble his style, yet all contribute to his profound and robust brushwork. He uses simplicity rather than cleverness, avoiding softness, fragility, and superficiality. His texture encompasses the expressions of mountains and peaks from all over the world, draped in a strong and elegant veil. With great, he guides the brush, seeking life even after mastering technique. The rise and fall, density and lightness, dryness and wetness, speed and slowness, thickness and thinness, and flourishing and withering—all are done with ease. He forgets the rules to find them again, embracing the clouds and mist, remaining unrestrained.
His brushwork is passionate and unrestrained, with a heart full of lotuses yet free of ink lotuses. He achieves the freedom described in Wang Wei's poem: "The river flows beyond the heavens, and the mountains blend with the void." He is naturally gifted and observant, noticing every flower and leaf in a pond. He says, "Sketching is important. Only by searching for all the wonders of the world can one find inspiration. Before painting, one must study nature deeply, recall the great poems, essays, and paintings of the ancients, and observe how masters have added or subtracted from the original landscape. Then, with passion, one measures and adjusts, exaggerating moderately without deviating from the path of balance. Choose the best angle, finding the extraordinary in the ordinary. Sketching can move the audience. Copying nature blindly is no better than copying Lu Xun's words—both lack originality. Only when a scene is infused with the artist's emotions does it come alive. I do this."
These words are worth savoring. His lotus branches are heavy, with some calligraphic techniques. His flowers are painted with the brushwork of running script, light and graceful. He avoids mechanical craftsmanship to prevent the flowers from losing their vitality. His leaves are painted with splashing ink, stopping when inspiration wanes. The ink technique lies in allowing light to pass through the thick strokes and brilliance in the thin ones. His brushwork is unrestrained, moving back and forth, with small tremors like a violinist drawing the bow. The strokes are deep into the paper, the colors rich and moist, as if dew could drip from the petals. His style is fresh, mature, sharp, and steady, with concise composition. Even when the flowers are past their peak and the withered ones are brown, his brushwork remains vigorous, free of decay or sickness. It fills one with vitality. The master Baishi set a fine example with his profound cultivation. Like Zhuo, he carved his own path, where talent and diligence are equally essential.
In his early years, his paintings occasionally echoed the techniques of Pan Tianshou and Li Kuchan, his two mentors. After ten years of reflection and twenty years of life's refinement, he studied painting theory, nurtured his artistic spirit, and finally broke free from his teachers' styles. He stands alone, selecting and transforming, pursuing the celestial, achieving the elegance of Cui's ink lotus. He dominates all others, with a unique face. Stepping into his artistic realm, one cannot tell if he ever paused for ten years. That was a wonderful time of seeking art beyond the brush, when he collected and studied the works of Ba Da, Shi Tao, Kong Zan, and even traced back to Dong Qichang. He immersed himself in the ink and brush of the ancients, gradually evolving from enlightenment to sudden realization, accumulating a qualitative change before returning to practice. Like a dried river whose dam is finally opened, the springs on both banks gush forth. Each year brought small breakthroughs, and every two years, great progress. Only those who have experienced the great suffering and sweetness can truly understand. Without his kind of experience and foundation, how can one dream?
His paintings are like a grand drama. A single lotus by the waves, dressed in light makeup, exudes grace. Two lotuses converse from afar, dancing with the tide, their hearts in sync. The brushwork carries the subtlety of early summer rain, midsummer thunder, late summer sunshine, autumn's cleansing, and spring's warmth. Three lotuses add layers and order, with red ones being elegant and refined, their expressions expressive like the celestial nymphs adorning the Buddha in the Dunhuang murals. The triple harmony pours out its emotions, pure and untainted. Many lotuses spark like flames at the bottom of a mirror, echoing laughter, growing quieter with the more they chatter, and colder with the more vibrant they are. The charm of the south blends with the vigor of the north, combining grandeur, simplicity, and beauty. Full and sparse complement each other, neither crowded nor empty. Even the details overflow with the sweetness of life, weaving a tapestry of hope.
The painter comforts himself and others, encouraging himself and others, finding freedom both in worldly and transcendent realms. Unassuming and steady, he maintains a constant temperature. The ink strings sing praises to creation, imprinted with his heart's source, noble and elegant, beyond mere craftsmanship or simplicity. This is the Kunlun Mountain that Zhuo is climbing. The peaks, glaciers, and snowfields along the way only add to its allure. A true warrior will not regret, fear, or doubt, remaining tireless, untroubled, and unattached to gain or loss. The journey itself is the goal, and the hardships endured on the path are the highest enjoyment.
He is full of vitality and resilience, which he translates into bone structure, brushwork, and the rhythm of ink and color. Practicing calligraphy every day, his goal is not to become a calligrapher but to infuse the lines with elasticity, using the imagery of seal and clerical scripts to create a bright and broad sound. He expresses emotions of different temperatures, humidity, and intensity, pouring them out over a hundred miles. He affirms life, avoiding darkness or flattery, renewing his artistic vocabulary to achieve harmony, freedom, and unadorned beauty. Five hundred years from now, his peers will grasp his spirit in a heartfelt conversation, without barriers. In this era of academic trends, few dare to impose such standards on themselves, constantly competing with their past selves. What he strives for is far greater than personal glory—too small. He wholeheartedly promotes the great self of the nation and traditional civilization. Zhuo is particularly optimistic about the future, which allows him to embrace ordinary life with joy, offering every blade of grass, every tree, every brick, and every stone. His perseverance deserves the reflection of the Chinese people!