Calligraphy in my eyes
Sometimes calligraphy gallops, sometimes strolls; sometimes calligraphy is restrained, sometimes free and easy; sometimes calligraphy is majestic and beautiful like an eagle soaring upward, sometimes graceful like a lady sitting at her desk in the wilderness. Flowers and butterflies; calligraphy sometimes requires boundless open-mindedness, and sometimes requires the sticky sorrow of futile cutting; sometimes the beauty of calligraphy lies in the thick and round strokes, and sometimes it is beautiful in the vigorous and powerful strokes. This is calligraphy in my eyes, a treasure left behind by the vast expanse of China where five thousand streams of water have rushed by. Calligraphy is changing, seeking stability amidst change, determining the level of the work in different environments, and seeking the company of beauty in different moods.