Clear Liu Yong small regular script album

Author: Shanghai Shuxue Publishing House
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-01-01
Features: Liu Yong (1719–1805), styled Chongru, known as Shian, Qingyuan, Xiangyan, and the Taoist of Riguofeng Peak. He was from Zhucheng, Shandong. He became a jinshi in the Ximing year of the Qianlong reign (1751) and rose through the ranks from a compiler in the Hanlin Academy to a co-assisted grand secretary. In the Wumu year of the Jiaqing reign (1798), he was appointed as the Grand Secretary of the Tiren Pavilion. The following year, he was granted the title of Grand Guardian of the Heir Apparent and posthumously honored as Wenqing. Profoundly knowledgeable in classics, history, and the Hundred Schools of Thought, his political achievements were overshadowed by his fame as a calligrapher. However, his calligraphy has gained even greater prominence in recent years due to the popularity of TV shows like Liu Laoguo, making him rival Tang Bohu in the realm of oral literature.
Liu’s calligraphy initially drew inspiration from Zhao Mengfu and Dong Qichang. Thanks to his innate talent, he mastered the old styles before innovating, breaking free from imitation to forge his own unique style. There is a well-known story often cited in discussions: Gexianzhou, a scholar and a disciple of Liu Shian, asked his master Wang Fanggang about Liu’s calligraphy. Wang replied, “”Which stroke of your teacher is ancient?”” Gexianzhou relayed this to Liu, who responded, “”I have created my own style. Ask your master which stroke is his own.”” The phrases “”no stroke is from the ancients”” and “”which stroke is his own”” vividly reflect the debate between adhering to tradition and deliberately innovating. Yet history has eloquently proven that clinging to tradition offers no way forward, while the relentless exploration of innovation will inevitably be recognized and praised.
Liu’s calligraphy excelled particularly in small regular script. His brushwork was thick yet forceful, with dense ink and a robust yet delicate appearance, as if meaty yet sharp, like a needle hidden within cotton. Xu Ke of the Qing Dynasty remarked, “”The excellence of his calligraphy lies in its subtle refinement and contained vigor, akin to the primordial Taiji encompassing all, whose depth and height remain unfathomable to ordinary people.”” A modern scholar, Zeng Xi, praised, “”Wenqing drew inspiration from Dong Sizhong but ascended to the heights of the Wei and Jin dynasties. His brushwork was strong and vigorous, with a profound and elegant aura. Even He Shaoji, a genius in calligraphy, drew lessons from him. Indeed, his regular script is the pinnacle of the study of calligraphy.””
Beyond highly praising Liu’s distinctive calligraphy and mentioning the genius He Shaoji, Zeng Xi also drew nourishment from Liu’s style. This small regular script album has a purple sand cover inlaid with silver thread patterns. The inner pages feature four rings of hand-painted blue-and-gold double-color white-and-gold dragon patterns on celadon paper, clearly a fine brush paper from the imperial collection and once owned by the “National Peking University Institute of Chinese Studies.” It is a treasure worth appreciating.
This album contains Liu’s calligraphy of classical prose, poetry, and his own writings, written successively between the Yihe and Bizi years of the Qianlong reign (1755–1756). It is considered a masterpiece from his prime, meticulously crafted. In my opinion, the brilliance of this album lies in its ability to avoid bulkiness despite its thickness, to resist sluggishness despite its flatness, and to reject the dullness of heavy ink. Because Liu skillfully navigated the nuances, his thick brushwork achieved elegance, his flat strokes exuded grace, and his dense ink radiated a spirited and profound aura, full of dialectical charm.
Additionally, Liu noted in the preface, “”The first few pages used two-hair brushes, while the rest were written with Nanjing water brushes,”” which is an intriguing piece of calligraphy history worth exploring.