() - Fou Lei on Art (Treasure Edition)

Author: Fu Lei
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-05-01
Features: Fu Lei (1908-1966), a renowned Chinese literary and art translator, art critic, and commentator. His academic monograph Twenty Lectures on World Masterpieces of Art discusses the artistic styles of nearly twenty masters and their famous works since the Renaissance, integrating literature, music, philosophy, society, and the era, and has gained high reputation among readers. The book includes nearly one hundred color illustrations of world-famous paintings. In addition to selecting Twenty Lectures on World Masterpieces of Art, this book also reorganizes and compiles scattered writings on Chinese and Western art into three parts: "Art Critiques," "Truths from the Art World," and "Letters on Art." The letters mainly excerpt from seventeen letters to Huang Binhong, three to Liu Kang, and eight to his brother. "Art Critiques" also includes two lost essays.
A "disaster-themed painting" If there were a play labeled as a tragedy or comedy in a certain act, with a preface elaborately explaining how tragic or humorous the content is, guaranteeing that readers would either be unable to bear to finish it or find it laughable. Yet when you, I, and he finish reading the main text, we discover that the title and preface are all lies, and the work lacks any atmosphere of tragedy or comedy. Could anyone then acknowledge it as a tragedy or comedy? Let me use a simpler analogy. A wine jar sealed with mud, labeled with red paper and black characters, boldly declares "Vintage Flowered Liquor," followed by a lengthy advertisement describing its color, aroma, and taste. Upon opening the jar, however, it reveals nothing but clear water, leaving the thirsty wine enthusiast staring at the label in bewilderment. Can anyone then claim it as a jar of fine wine? To ask such an obvious question seems childish. But excuse me—our innocence may well be the synonym for progress. Real-life troubles have extinguished our sense of humor. It is neither a slogan, nor a slogan, nor prose, nor doggerel, yet some insist it is poetry. Fragmented, disjointed. The basic conditions for orchestration are not even met, yet some still recognize it as a concerto—under such circumstances, Mr.'s masterpiece is uniformly praised as a "disaster-themed painting."
"Hanging the head of an ox outside the door while selling horse meat inside" has become commonplace, and "pointing a deer as a horse" is also widely practiced today. Yet for so many scholars to believe that a horse and a deer are the same thing is truly a record-breaking feat in breaking all impossibilities. There is no question of being too harsh in judgment or having too high standards. Since it is a "disaster-themed painting," it has nothing to do with contentious theories. What the audience demands is the author. You and I enter a "disaster-themed painting" exhibition expecting to see raw, living, and thrilling works—can we really expect too much? Mr. seems to be playing a joke on everyone: the "disasters" he reports are all based on his scattered travel impressions. If someone finds a hungry face in his painting or traces lines depicting disaster, I dare say they are the Columbus of the art world, perhaps even a reincarnation of the Buddha. For in the Buddha's eyes, all living beings are souls who have endured countless calamities. As for us ordinary mortals, we cannot simply label a face devoid of expression as that of a disaster victim and accept them as "disaster enforcers," nor can we recognize them as "North Jiangsu refugees."
Words explaining paintings are generally harmful and useless. (Chinese calligraphy on paintings is a different matter.) A brilliant painting paired with poor text is like defiling the Buddha's head with filth; a painting and text that are equally mediocre are like adding the tail to a snake; a mediocre painting paired with brilliant text cannot enhance the painting in any meaningful way. For example, "Three sons went to war and died, now a handful of wild garlic is all that remains to avenge the Japanese devils. The second one, however, must hate..."