The significance of the line in Chinese art

Dear friends,

The most outstanding and significant achievement in Chinese art -- calligraphy and painting -- is the art of the line.

The line is an obvious, definite form. It attracts the viewer's attention and will guide it. The line is the major component of Chinese painting and calligraphy. Lines define form, suggest space, indicate movement. Even a dot may serve the same function as a line.

In painting and calligraphy, most forms are composed of a combination of dots and lines.

In calligraphy, it is obvious that the characters are all composed of dots and lines. Dots are not circular in shape as in the West but vary in thickness, and their tails indicate the direction of movement in the structure of the character. This gesturing creates the "one breath" effect. The famous critic Hsieh Ho of the Southern Ch'i period (479-501), in his celebrated work Six Methods, touched upon the line in his second canon -- the "bone" treatment of line -- and revealed the essence of Chinese art, the quality of line. Through many years of experimenting, I have come to accept the tenet that if a line is properly drawn, it will be a complete entity in itself with a bone and nerve structure, with flesh and blood, and hence endowed with a body and soul. This will be fully discussed in Part Three, Techniques.

By the same token, if all the lines and dots are perfectly done, then each character or each painting will become a solid composition with spirit and vitality.

The first requirement for a good line or dot is to possess Li, vigorous strength.

First, the so-called bone structure must be embedded in a line, so that it will appear solid and strong, as in the lines shown in the Greater and Lesser Chuan style of writing. When the artist draws this kind of line, he must do it in one stroke, without hesitation, maintaining even pressure and speed. He thereby creates tension between the two ends, as if the lines were being pulled taut.

According to its natural structure, a bamboo tree looks stiff and smooth on the surface. However, in an artistic approach, this form must be dramatized so as to make it more interesting. To make the bamboo seem stronger and more forceful, it is necessary to give the straight lines a "bone structure".

Li is not the only means of injecting life into art. Another even more important element is Ch'i -- the atmospheric, one- breath performance. Actually, Li and Ch'i are like body and soul -- inseparable. Let us take a dancer, for example. Li represents his strong body, and Ch'i stands for his movements, the action which goes on and on, never chopped off, never halted. Thus, the whole dance is a result of a strong body and energetic movement, a product of Li and Ch'i.

The character Pi, which means 'must', in Figure 63, is completed with both Li and Ch'i. From stroke one to stroke five, the whole action is executed in one breath. Though each stroke stands by itself, the Ch'i between the strokes is uninterrupted. The Ch'i actually serves as an invisible string to hold the five pieces together. Therefore, this character Pi is alive.

Calligraphy reflects the artist's mood and frame of mind at the moment of writing, as does a pianist's performance. Unless the writing is done in one sitting, one may well lose the Ch'i, or the coherence of the work. On resumption, the mood is likely to have changed. In Figure 64, the three words, Wan Li Ching, or the feeling of ten thousand miles, illustrates my point. Each column was written in one sitting, without interruption. However, each column was written at different times of the day. Figure 64a was written in the morning, when I was fresh, 64b was written at noon, and appears more energetic, 64c was written in the late evening, and looks hesitant and weary. In order to avoid a broken Ch'i, a painting or calligraphy must be finished in one breath, or at least in one session.

-- Kwo Da-Wei