Suddenly turned over the drawer, the faint ink on the rice paper escaped from the old envelope. Although I have moved several times, I can't say that I am wandering from place to place, but these letters are treasured in my panic. They were tied up and put aside, and now they are placed in a corner of the bookshelf, like falling in a stable nest. When the clear sky is opened, Sha Ou, Ji Xiang and Yuan Ye are plains, and the mood is like the dense water vapor in the south of the Yangtze River.
Xu Chenxi's calligraphy begins: "May in the south of the Yangtze River is the most charming, and the leaves are mixed with wine. On the stranger, people scattered in the setting sun, full of Chai Men. " One of them can't read clearly, so he is called Chenxi. He is a little startled. He said that he was improvising and had no draft. Two years later, who remembers those details?
Helpless, I had to find a way by myself. The more I read, the more I feel that spring hurts. Yan Shu style, pain without resentment, has the realm of beauty. Helpless flowers fall, but their faces are whispering, and the colorful colors reveal the gorgeous beauty of life. There is tenderness and beauty between pen and ink. This is the melancholy feeling of going to the small building in cold spring. In the running script, the method of opening a letter is quiet, such as a lonely person perching on the edge of a pavilion, falling into English all over the place and being indifferent to it.
There is also the word "mixed wine label", which is really good.
A pot of wine, a word and a tune of pingtan are the casual and leisurely state of life in the morning.
The first time I saw the morning light was on the wine table. Pengpengxin tea in Yushan is boiling. When the morning light appears, tea can ripple out. I only know that his surname is Xu, and the number stored in his mobile phone has become "". As a result, the first sentence when chatting was: Did you find the White Snake? The answer is that the white snake went to pick ganoderma lucidum. -Very touching answer. Chenxi is addicted to alcohol. When the novelist Hu Zilang talks about Chenxi's wine history, he always mentions xi 'an: Chenxi's face is white, and although he has a moustache, it inevitably gives people the feeling of a weak and white-faced scholar. In Xi 'an, he was alone, and six or seven big men drank together, and then splashed ink, like a meteor.
Later, we drank rice wine in Gushan, Jiangyin. Drink white wine at Pingjiang Road. Drinking yellow wine in Shaxi, Taicang. Of course, drinking needs friends in our circle. Calligraphers Li Shuangyang, Lv Yuelong and Yang Jianrong, novelists with bearded wolves. I don't talk about calligraphy, and I don't study novel writing skills. With wine, the theme was born. A barrel of wine costs 10 thousand gold coins. With a lot of laughter and one-liners, the gifted scholars unconsciously entered that state. In the mist, there are mountains and rivers, huifeng, white snake and Xiaoqing, which come from time to time. It's hazy white mountains and black water. Planting grass.
Dawn added that it was like visiting Dai on a snowy night. He came back on impulse and was full of joy.
Soon, "Pillow Ink Painting-Calligraphy Exhibition of Eight Friends of Wumen" was exhibited in Yucun Art Museum. I stopped for a long time with Xiaoxin fans in the morning. Relax. As a viewer, we must experience the peaceful and elegant atmosphere when he first created with such a state of mind. It has nothing to do with the shock of the pen, but it is light and calm in exquisiteness. Perhaps the peach blossom is still smiling at the spring breeze, perhaps the mermaid closed the door with the hazy feeling of dropping pearl-like tears into a moongreen sea, or perhaps … he sat down quietly and created a pure and clear world with a brush and rice paper. From time to time, the girl outside the window seems to be calling: gardenia, magnolia …
The magnolia in Tiger Hill is top-notch. It is put in a bracelet and worn on your hand. It smells terrible. I couldn't resist the temptation and bought it several times.
Chenxi lives on the stone road, near Tiger Hill and Mountain Pond. One day I had nothing to do, so I rushed to his Sanyuan Taoist Temple to have tea and chat. At noon, while drinking in Shantang Street, he ordered some authentic Subang dishes, such as sweet and sour mandarin fish, fried eel paste and fried shrimp ... It seems that he wants to turn Suzhou people's life into a comfortable killing. And some carved wine. All right. Touch the cup. Down the throat into the stomach, warm. Pingtan also sings. Jade carving. Fishing veranda winding path leading to a secluded place, lake blue cheongsam. Singing sweetly, gently, with touching eyes, makes people feel excited. At the end of the song, people are scattered, and the mountains and rivers are green. The morning light was fascinated by this and shook her head and sang, "I live a gentle and lovely life in Du Shiniang, and I feel sorry for myself." . She is a flower without a master, floating in the wind, flying around, crying for a few lines. "
With a wave of his hand, he turned and went back to his calligraphy class. Stay in Shantang Street and eat Begonia Cake. The color of begonia is bright and beautiful. In the book A Dream of Red Mansions, it is mentioned that there is a Haitang Poetry Society. I love Shi Xiangyun's poems, full of ups and downs. Walking around, there is a beautiful voice on the bluestone board. In fact, this kind of scenery exists every day. Why should I sigh?
Chenxi is addicted to drinking and smoking, but it happened that someone said that he smelled of green tea and came from a lady. This is a private topic, a bit ambiguous, there is no need to delve into it, but what puzzles Chenxi is what is the taste of green tea?
Sweet, sweet. This is an advertisement for Master Kong green tea. Borrow it for the time being.
Lonely Reed: Calligrapher Yue Long.
Man is a thinking reed. pascal
A road leading to the school is called Swan Dang Road. It is conceivable that a few years ago, it was still a wetland, with flocks of egrets flying lightly and reeds swaying, making it poetic and natural. When Taihu Lake is patted, the moon is in my arms and the breeze is out of my sleeve. The meaning of Jiangnan slowly diffuses in one entry and one exit.
Now driving straight to school, there are many high-rise buildings built of cement and steel bars on both sides, and perhaps only the beautiful name of swan swing is worth remembering. -And reeds. Meditation, stubbornness and loneliness, it appears every spring and withers and grows old every autumn. Reed flowers are flying, mysterious as the wind, cranes are walking in the clouds, and there are few long winds. They are not upset, but look at the sky and the distance with a well-known attitude.
I also want to compare Lu Yuelong to a reed.
A thinking reed.
Colleagues, friends, friends for more than ten years. Every time we meet, as Xu Wei said, "Although fried tea is slightly elegant, it must be similar to tea. Therefore, every time its methods spread to the generation of high-flow hidden rocks, fish, shrimp and elk, he also knew that I would love these words and wrote them on gold paper for me. Hanging on my wall for several years makes me feel more intimate and reliable. Looking at it by moonlight is even more wonderful. The dust is washed away, the noise is gone, and the clear and quiet time and space are intertwined between pen and ink. So, take out a book, lie on the bamboo couch and look through it to see if there is anything.
I often meet him at the school by the stream. Because we all love walking, daydreaming and being in a daze. He can name thirteen kinds of birds by the stream in one breath. Dai Sheng, goshawk, starling, thrush, snipe, egret ... people who come and go in a hurry will never realize that this is a paradise for birds. He shuttled through the Woods with one foot deep and one foot shallow and saw the bird's nest among the branches. He was so excited that he waved his arms like a child. Once, the peasant woman sprayed chemicals to weed, and several egrets were still purring for food on the lawn. He rushed forward to drive the egrets away. The egret didn't understand his kindness, turned a direction and paced leisurely in another place for food. That afternoon, Yue Longfu, who was worried about the country and people, ran back and forth like this, being an egret and a pure nature. It is said that he also had a fierce quarrel with the peasant woman for this reason.
Not long ago, he and I were invited to a green farm for dinner. The waiter brought a dish, and she gently added, "Long-billed bird, please eat." Surprised. Neither he nor I moved chopsticks. The egret, who we are looking forward to coming back in spring every day, actually met us on this occasion. His expression is depressed and sad. The next day, he called the Nature Conservancy, and he angrily accused the other party of not responding. He said he would keep calling until the other party had a statement.
I am silent, too. Most of the time, he is talking. The school is very big, with more than 300 employees and few people I know. I cherish the friendship between gentlemen as light as water. Sometimes, when I see him standing alone in the wind, I feel that the poet's lonely and melancholy temperament flows in his blood. We can also feel from his oil painting "A Scene of the Western Hills" that its picture is bright and intense, with Russian style and Van Gogh-style loneliness.
Draw a line of fine print to express his heart: "A Scene of the Western Hills", an old work, written in the hot sun in July. At that time, I thought of Van Gogh, the helplessness and loneliness of life. Lonely and happy. "
Moon Dragon longs for loneliness and enjoys it. The attic at home is his spiritual space, or the wind rises from the valley, the grass is like a river, and the horse is running. Or pick a fragrant forest, pick up a green rock edge, and outline a leisurely little painting. His talent is also reflected in the theory of books, which is unconventional, elegant and chic, but hits the nail on the head. The taste of ancient books, ink and rice paper is intertwined with the poet's loneliness, which is particularly empty. He often suffers from insomnia, watching the moonlight getting thicker and shallower. He knows that the East is white, and the bedding he put on the attic floor has not been opened yet. ...
There is a song that he sings the most, as if all the past events had turned into a fire phoenix in the song, which instantly took off and roared away, leaving nothing material for the earthly world.
That song was Shin's favorite after his death. I believe that when his knees were slightly bent, like a prawn, his eyes were closed, and generate broke through the mist in his throat, he forgot everything and abandoned everything, including the sky, the earth and himself.
Only love is spreading everywhere.
Quiet midnight, the breath of the earth is mellow. The drunken poet hasn't returned yet. Riding around the city for three times, I heard the bitter sound of the wind singing, the flowers falling and the lonely leaves flying. Sioux City is lonely, Sioux City is lonely and in tears.
Third, long-distance love: the notes of Shuangyang calligraphers.
Before I started writing about calligrapher Li Shuangyang, I smelled a strong smell of wine.
Liu Ling, the seven sages of bamboo forest in Wei and Jin Dynasties, said: "There are grown-ups who take heaven and earth as the time, and all dynasties as the time, the sun and the moon as the place of mourning, the famine as the court, and sit on the ground at dusk. ..... carefree, fun. I was drunk and suddenly woke up. "
It is definitely a real pleasure without will, and through wine, it has reached the extreme of life.
With Shuangyang, I have similar feelings, either intoxicated, indifferent, passionate or detached. Li Taibai's elegance, Su Dongpo's detachment, Zhang Xu's wild and uninhibited, all kinds of illusions are intertwined, with a free charm like the wind and a light wave like water. Just like 1600 years ago, on a sunny day, the Jin people were splashing water and ink, watching the peach blossoms slowly float down, the cocoon paper spread out, the moustache was well held, and the scattered and vigorous calligraphy lines unfolded.
I appreciate the demeanor of Shuangyang in Wei and Jin Dynasties, just as I am sure that a gifted scholar carries a spirit, an innate spirit-Dionysian spirit proposed by the western philosopher Nietzsche. It is bold and unrestrained like a storm, and its momentum is like a thousand miles at night. Look at Shuangyang's calligraphy. The lines are round and vigorous, and the pen and ink are boundless. It is Maolin Xiuzhu's sigh of heaven and earth, and also his inner understanding and surging of the unity of heaven and man and natural reincarnation.
She danced with a dagger and drew it from all directions. I still like to use this poem to describe people and calligraphy in Shuangyang. Because, when I was silent in front of his calligraphy, I seemed to hear the pounding of horseshoes in the Tang Dynasty. He is a chivalrous man who fought the sword and walked the world, a prodigal son who waited for the tide of his soul to convert, and a scholar who waved his hand with a millicone.
West wind last night, thinking about the future in my dream tonight. The running script is proud, and the journey is towering.
Drunk to send poems, pottery in the fog, sweeping away the autumn and welcoming the spring. Mo Xie's deputies have their own romantic feelings, while Ying Ying's rigidity and softness are gone.
This is a word written by Shuangyangyan in 2002, and its epigraph is "Walking on the Sand". If he hadn't practiced cursive script hard because he was obsessed with a four-screen cursive script hanging in the shop when he was a child, maybe he had made great achievements in literature. He is a frank and clever man. Comparatively speaking, his humor after joining WTO is no less than that of Meishan Zizhan. As Yu described in Su Dongpo's Breakthrough, it is a bright but not dazzling light, a mellow but not greasy sound. ...
In the world of books, the name of Shuangyang is no stranger. He came and went in a hurry, giving lectures everywhere. But back to Suzhou, back to the familiar circle of friends, Shuangyang is the most simple and authentic, so prepare good wine, straighten your arms and drink freely. Or in Pingjiang Road open-air tea stall, build a pot of Biluochun and sip a few mouthfuls warmly until the moon stars are scarce and dogs bark in the deep alley. When is the joke? At the age of 60, our circle of friends will still get together to raise a glass and tell the guests to recite the poem of the bright moon. How fast life is!
Wong Kar-wai's film "2046", with its montage technique and changeable vision of life, changed with the rumbling train. In 2008, four famous Shanghai exhibitions, including Shuangyang and Xu Shiping, also had a distinctive Shanghai style name "2046". In the photo, Shuangyang is wearing a navy cotton-padded shirt, with deep and peaceful eyes and a smile, and the elegant breath faintly escapes from the cotton fiber. If supplemented by background and factors, it will become a fatal illusion, like a drop of ink blooming and a feather flying.
Elegant. Shenya. It's far. In that smile, the water flows gently and the flowers bloom quietly. Not long ago, in Wujiang Painting and Calligraphy Institute, I fell in love with a Shuangyang cursive script. I didn't leave a seal, and I didn't put it on. I just fixed it on the wall with thumbtacks. The third space is far-reaching and hazy, like a philosophical proposition full of mystery. I even realized the passion of his creation, full of excitement and excitement. -I whispered: break the seal and give it to me!
Words have life, just as calligraphy has soul. Strong but gentle Lingyun, the clothes are fluttering, the dust is melting, and the blue lotus is in full bloom. A stranger raises his melancholy eyes, but he still travels far, completing his unremitting questioning of life. Days are like the wind in the hall. Shuangyang likes to sing "Chrysanthemum Terrace" and "Your shadow clips keep leaving me on the lake in pairs". The storm is gloomy, and the gentleman keeps on. He lingered, searched, tossed and turned, and had an epiphany in a mirror that looked like a flower.
Shuangyang, a native of Huaiyin, now lives in Suzhou, which is the blessing of Shuangyang. The smoke at the noon gate is vast, the Banana Garden is quiet, and the wind of Ming Si's family is blowing. He sat by the window, and the edge of the inkstone was soaked in wet ink, prancing on the misty rice paper as snow. The pen fell and frightened the wind and rain. China cursive script gathers its natural and simple things, and birds and beasts gallop. Zhu Da's cold-eyed fish, Xu Wei's fantasy and Wang Duo's Hao Tang can all be seen in Shuangyang's pen and ink.
Or go back to the wine. Take wine as the theme.
We all use wine to interpret our farewell, welcome, feast and hearty. High-spirited and true-natured friends are informal. When encountering Tong Ange's old songs, several people will take turns to grab the microphone, and everyone will express their opinions in order to satisfy themselves. Shuangyang's investment is different from that of Yuelong. He is affectionate, the ending stretches and shakes, and he moves infinitely in his brow. It's best to describe it in the words of Chenxi's daughter. Why is it so painful for Uncle Shuangyang to sing?