Wang Xizhi, China's Sage of Calligraphy

王羲之

Calligraphy is intimately tied to the course of Chinese history, being in fact its very medium.

China was united under the Qin and Han dynasties over the four centuries or so between about 200 B.C. and 200 A.D. But then for the next four centuries it descended into relative chaos.

Wang Xizhi (303-361) - pronounced Ōgishi in Japanese - was born into one of China's most influential noble families during the time of the Western Jin dynasty, which gave way to the Eastern Jin dynasty in 317. His birth was just three years before the end of the War of the Eight Princes, followed by the Wu Hu Uprising. Both were extraordinarily barbaric events of mutual ravage and slaughter by the ruling class that, combined with famine, floods, and epidemics, decimated the population and led even to such horrors as cannibalism.

In this situation, with the traditional rulers of China having almost eliminated themselves from public life, scholar-officials stepped in as new sources of authority. Unlike the old ruling class that based its legitimacy on the virtue of its behavior and speech, the scholar-officials prized the written word. What under the old order had been dismissed as an "unorthodox craft" or a "trivial skill" now became promoted as a national project of lasting significance. Calligraphy, the main personal pursuit of China's scholar-officials became a major part of this new-found focus, and calligraphy came to be invested with personality and spirit. The chief  exemplar of this development was Wang Xizhi.

Wang Xizhi was noticed by the Eastern Jin imperial court as a teen for his potential and, having found official favor, quickly rose in to positions of influence. The quality he was most noted for was his seriousness of mind that showed in his indifference to worldly success. He was said to have lacked any affectation in manner and shown more concern for those he was charged with administering than with his own person or career.

Wang Xizhi's family had several prominent calligraphers, the most famous being his uncle, younger than he, Wang Yi (276-322). He was taught calligraphy by Wang Yi and one of China's most prominent female calligraphers, Wei Shuo (who may have been his aunt).

Wang Xizhi seems to have found most acclaim as an artist in his later years once he had renounced life as an official and took to touring, hunting, fishing and discussing Taoism with his friends.

His calligraphy was considered sublime in its strength and vigor, its grace (grace being the quality most prized in calligraphy during the time of the Jin dynasty), and its changefulness. He was apparently able to greatly variegate the characters he wrote while still maintaining an almost magical unity among them.

Having practiced Japanese calligraphy myself for only about four years, I am still a novice when it comes to judging the quality of calligraphy, but a look at Wang Xizhi's work inspires me with its real kick and flair that never descends into exaggeration or quirkiness, but maintains a strong backbone and an overall classical harmony. If a person's hand really does reveal his or her personality, then the stories of his personal strengths and virtue do indeed ring true.

Wang Xizhi's many works exist only as copies today. A couple of his most famous are Deploring the Death of My Aunt (Yimu tie) and Letter Written in the First Lunar Month (Chu yue tie).

Wang Xizhi still occupies the top echelon of China's artistic pantheon as the "Sage of Calligraphy."

Mountain High, River Long

山高水長

Last month I changed calligraphy teachers. My teacher until last year, Ransui, taught me boldness of style (and did his best to teach me balance), and I owe my calligraphy experience so far to him. However, his studio was near Omotesando which, once my partner and I both moved to start living with each other, became a lot further to travel to all of a sudden.

So last month, after a break in my tuition of about four or five months, I got a new teacher, a late-middle aged professor of calligraphy at Chuo University in Tokyo who teaches at a studio near where I live in Taito ward. Wtih Ransui, it was all vim, zoom and bold black lines.

With my new teacher, things are all different. There is a new delicacy of touch that I'm having to take on board, with the effect of making me feel like I'm almost back at square one - in some ways a slightly despairing feeling, but in others exciting, in that I'm now stepping into new territory.

 Today I'm posting my work under my new teacher for the first time. It is the best I could do this morning after an hour's practice and as such I should be proud of it, but it has significant flaws all the same.

 It reads 山高水長, or "mountain high, river (literally "water") long."

It's a truism in Chinese/Japanese calligraphy that the simpler the character the more difficult it is to get it right, probably because the space around it is thereby defined that much more starkly, and any imbalance becomes that much more conspicuous.

 The character I am proudest of here is 山, and least proud of, 水. However, as I said, it's more about the balance than the individual form, and I think I am slowly improving the vertical balance between my characters.

 But the ultimate point of calligraphy is to be inspired by the play between the form and the lyricism of the characters. So there it is: mountain(s) high, river long. This photo of the Atlas mountains south of Marrakech comes to mind, taken in January when my partner and I visited Morocco.