Selected Prose of Jia Pingwa: Li
It is the ancient place name of Lantian, and Li is the four famous people in Lantian. Because his name is Ni Qing, he scattered people, neither forgetting his motherland nor adapting to his nature well. Ni Qing Sanren painted oil paintings in his early years and became famous for it. He won an award at a national art exhibition, and then he sank into the sea for more than ten years and was never heard from again. He stayed in a small county town in southern Shaanxi for a long time. When the children grew up, he was transferred to xi 'an and fell in Banpo Museum. When he was in the country, I went to his residence and ate noodles with sauerkraut. There are morning glories on the fence at the door, and a dog is barking on the low courtyard wall behind the house. The studio of Banpo Museum is even more quiet, almost hiding the bright moon and opening the window to release wild clouds. In this day when there is always green mud, he is interested in calligraphy and studies inscriptions endlessly after work. Art should be silent, but silence is like a turtle. I've only seen people in a fog. He is not in a hurry, neither arrogant nor impetuous. He doesn't talk much all day and smiles, so that people around him don't know that he is practicing calligraphy, and even his friends call him a slacker. I go out to see him once every six months. Every time he writes, he immediately rolls up a pen and paper. He wouldn't let me read his handwriting, and I didn't say anything. I chatted over tea until I landed on the moon. When he came back, his friend asked him about his illness and hated him for being too lazy to do something. I said, slackers usually say tigers. Tigers always lie there on weekdays. He doesn't care about birds and insects, and he doesn't care about trouble. But when the prey really appeared, the tiger jumped up and no prey could escape. People with empty minds are incompetent at first.
This winter, it was very cold for a few days. A few birds on the tree outside the window shrank like fists and stones, and they didn't start chirping. I was playing chess with someone in the room, and I was arguing for regret when someone knocked at the door. His cheeks were red, he wore earmuffs, and there was a roll of paper behind his elbow to show me his handwriting. He can take the initiative to let me study. He must be literate. I'm in no hurry to read. I just asked him which train he took and how many stops he took before he came to me. He showed an attempt and soon became dull. He asked me to play chess and drink tea, and I was ill. He said that blood stasis in liver disease is suitable for reading Shimen Ming. I said yes, I use qigong to treat diseases every day. He said: Do you practice Qigong? I said, good calligraphy, good painting, good reading, good listening to music, good speech, everything that is really devoted to people has qigong effect. He said with a smile, are you asking me to break my word? ! I hung the rolls of paper on the wall one by one. This is the first time that I have seen his calligraphy comprehensively. I said four words: old bitterness. He asked, Do you have any wine? I said: no wine. He added more tea to the tea, touched me and drank it.
The next day, I arrived at Ni Qing's home, enjoyed all his accumulated works and witnessed him again. The actual operation of the land case took an afternoon of work. Finally, I smiled and said: People can't develop in this way. He nodded and said, I am a young man.
When he came out from home, a rag collector was carrying a big bag of waste paper from the corridor to be weighed. This is the word paper that Ni Qingsanmin practiced. I was busy drinking and picked four pieces from the waste. Wonder of collecting junk: I collect two or three bundles a week. The rag collector doesn't know art, otherwise he would have stayed, and his descendants would have made a fortune! The reason why later generations made a fortune is that the calligraphy of people scattered in the green mud is not valued by the world, but now it is very popular in the world. Not many people can appreciate his calligraphy. His calligraphy is only for people who do it. It's so interesting that there are few people.
On the way back to the city, I think it is inevitable that people are poor and not famous. He doesn't care at all, and it is inevitable that his art will last forever. However, even if such words develop to the extreme, they can only be masters, not masters. This is because this road is not the mainstream of calligraphy, and suffering is just blindness. But, but, on the other hand, how many things in life can make people cry?
199865438+1October 23rd
Selected Prose of Jia Pingwa 2: To Li Yi
When a skill becomes an art, the craftsman is embarrassed. Just like with Lei Feng, everyone hopes that Lei Feng will always do good deeds. It's like watching a football match. If you win, the audience will go crazy; if you lose, you will curse the street. You engage in calligraphy and I engage in literature. Are we lucky or unlucky to become artists? What is our dignity from now on? I'm afraid the only word is creation. On the Weihe River beach in winter, it is the season when fine dogs drive rabbits, so rabbits run like hell.
The job you gave me was taken away by a fellow villager on March 25th. In today's declining interest rate on deposits, he will not invest in other industries even if he has money. He wants to use Qian Shengqian to collect quite a lot of calligraphy and painting. I rummaged through his collection cabinet, but there was nothing decent. I advised him to light a fire quickly. These things will not be corroded by insects. Don't think that any calligraphy and painting can make money. He asked me who I should collect, and I said Li Jue, but he didn't know whether Li Jue was an ancient or a modern man. I asked for a long time. I told him: Li Jue is not a famous artist. God knows how many famous artists have become famous, but Li Jue's strength is awesome. He is a man of temperament and has a natural feeling for writing brush. Watch, he will have a bright future. So I took out the works you gave me to explain that Li Jue does not belong to Shen Xiong, but the streets are littered with rocks, autumn leaves fall to the ground, there is heroic spirit in the wilderness, and there is vastness in elegance. In today's book world, the style of the prosperous Jiangnan is more important than the form, which is too weak. Although there are many voices of opposition from northerners, the works are full of Jianghu atmosphere and lack integrity. Li Jue, a northerner and a southerner, is one, which is very rare for him not to be infected by bandits. Since Wen Renchen, he has been a great man with a crooked hair. I gave you publicity, and he took it away by force.
I don't care if I take it or not. I think Li Meng might give me another one. Yi Lee doesn't pay much attention to money. Even if he does, the money should be scattered rather than gathered.
Moreover, the reason why I asked my fellow villagers to take that job was that I was not satisfied with it. After all, it was a few years ago. I went to a friend's house at the beginning of the year and saw a photo of your recent work hanging in his living room. Very good. I borrowed it for several days, trying to embezzle, but he caught me and wanted to come back immediately. A real artist should have the tenacity to compete for a long distance and the explosive force to show off his dagger, among which age is very important. The one you gave me is good, but it doesn't bear reading. For example, if you see beautiful women in the street, they are all amazing. When you get married, you often notice her shortcomings. This is also like my article, fresh and beautiful in the early years. Now at the age of knowing destiny, the article is messy and smeared at random. However, although the old article is nonsense, there are still a few words in my bones. Every word and sentence I have experienced from my life, and few works I have learned from other people's works. The artistic spirit is embodied in consciousness, and the experience from life, heavy or ethereal, is not intentional. The word "beauty" may come from the description of lanterns. The beauty of lanterns lies in the light transmission, but the light transmission is not about lanterns, but in the candles in cages.
The one you gave me is too hard in form, which is one of the reasons why I reluctantly cut love in my hometown. You are a talented person, but your interests often make your talents overflow. Li Bai is confident that he is a great talent, so? Laugh to your face and go out? Informal. Have you seen the bonsai decorated on the mountain? If you had a robe, maybe made of green cloth, would you use a piece of silk as lace for the sake of splendor? A generous home naturally dances from a generous place. If it is too interesting, it will eventually become a gadget. The reason why I saw your work hanging in someone else's living room, and dared to give mine to my hometown, I believe you will give me a new one, which is much more mature than the old one and let me read it for a long time.
If you want to send me another work, I hope it is your cursive script. You are good at writing, but I'd rather let you be naked and confused. I will hang it in my library. Such works may not please the eyes of ordinary people. In today's turbulent times, it is suitable for me to be lonely and cold, and it is also suitable for nurturing my motivation in loneliness and cold.
Selected Prose of Jia Pingwa: Tianma
On April 2 1 day, Tan Cong Ankang brought several rubbings of Wei and Jin portrait bricks and a pack of new tea. Because tea misses friends, half of them go to Ma Haizhou.
Ma Haizhou is a strange figure in Shaanxi painting circle, independent and special, always keeping a distance from others. He painted with great care, but he didn't cherish himself after painting. He let others take it away on a whim. I once said a few words about his paintings. Maybe he thinks he caught the itch. Maybe they are all dwarfs. Everyone is familiar with it anyway. ? When will you go home? I have many interesting things! ? He invited me so much, but his explanation was too complicated. I'm not a dog or a driver. In a city as deep as the sea, I can't find the way to his home. Tan Zonglin led me through the streets and alleys, walked in a hurry for a long time and knocked on the door of a family.
Ma Haizhou is drawing. This is the first time I have seen a great painter use a small painting box. On such a narrow and short table, half of them are stacked with ancient porcelain and strange stones and trees, and on a piece of felt cloth, horses are painted one after another. The horse stands on its side with its hoofs pedaling, but it is as thin as a thin dog, which seems to have a fleeting gesture. I don't know if the horses in the sky are like this, but Ma Haizhou knows. He made the horse's mane, tail and four legs look like clouds. I applauded and said, OK! Tan can confuse people and immediately say, why don't you write a few words when you applaud? ! I began to write:
There are dragons and horses in the sky,
Lonely and difficult to get along with.
Why not go to the world?
I am an official!
On that day, Ma Haizhou's face was ruddy, and his thick and short fingers rubbed and said, You have always known me.
Tan suddenly felt robbed, so he took out a rubbings from his pocket and gave them to Ma Haizhou. There is a picture on the rubbings. Flying? It is obvious that Ma Haizhou was excited by the brick pattern in Wei and Jin Dynasties. What are the surprises of Dunhuang murals? Flying? , still in the Wei and Jin Dynasties? Flying? China art history will be rewritten. Tan naturally offered an exchange. I immediately objected: this painting cannot be given away; Rubbings are rubbings after all; Since you have always respected Mr. Ma, are you reluctant to send a rubbings? Tan scolded me in every way, and Ma Haizhou laughed. You read mine? Tianma? , I see yours? Flying? Yes, but what about yours? Flying? It's hard to see the world clearly. I've seen it. I'll give you something older as compensation. ? So he took out an eagle map and handed it to Tan. On a big piece of paper, stood an eagle. Its body was like a steep cliff, its head was covered with horns, its mouth was slightly open, and there seemed to be a screaming voice, entitled? There was this gentleman 80 thousand years ago? . Tan Zonglin was overjoyed. I said, Zong Lin's rubbings stayed in the city for three days and earned dozens of paintings from painters! Zong Lin just smiled, but Ma Haizhou ignored it. He still said that eagles and dinosaurs were contemporaries, so I turned to look at the Qin bricks, Han tiles and Song porcelain on those antique shelves. Most of his collections are folk handicrafts, but they are exquisite. The strange shapes and patterns of various colors painted on antiques suddenly made me realize that Ma Haizhou's works are grotesque in Gu Zhuo, and he was greatly influenced by ancient folk crafts.
? Choose two of these four paintings! ? After Ma Haizhou gave me three antiques, he suddenly said.
He took out four more pictures from the cupboard and spread them out on the bed. One plum, one orchid, one chrysanthemum and one bamboo are all Ma Haizhou's styles, and the brushwork is simple and concise. With such kindness, Tan He was greatly moved. Either one will be fine. Tan said: Mr. Jia has a high title, and Mr. Jia chooses first. I said:? Teacher Tan brought the tea, so choose first. ? I like chrysanthemums and bamboo, plums and surnames, but I'm afraid I won't get them, but I won't say anything.
? Grab the paper and throw it away, right? Ma Haizhou said, God wants you to take whatever you want. ?
He cut paper and wrote four words, spring, summer, autumn and winter, and each word was kneaded into a ball. I caught one, Tan caught one, I caught another, Tan caught another. Bloom, it's Mei Heju. Meiju is mine, so I will show it off and say how my plums are in love with spring and how my chrysanthemums are weak in autumn wind. We were busy knocking at the door, so we immediately folded the painting and hid it in our arms.
A tall man came in. The Lama mumbled something to Haizhou. Ma Haizhou explained at first, but then he got completely angry and roared: No, absolutely not. The man gave a wry smile and finally said, then you can draw one at home. ? Ma Haizhou hung his head and straightened the door for a while, saying that it is impossible to draw now. Look, I have friends here. I asked you to bring him one. ? Take out a photo from the cupboard, as small as a newspaper. ? So big? I've been telling you for a year. How can I get such a big one? The man complained, but he didn't seem to answer. ? Then I only have such a big drawing table! ? Ma Haizhou tried to put the painting in the cupboard again, but the man took it over.
People left, Ma Haizhou shouted a cup of tea, picked up the cup and drank it first. Tan asked what was going on. It turned out that the man had told a big official that Ma Haizhou was going home to paint, and the butler was ready. ? He made a deal with the official, but he didn't tell me beforehand. Am I on call? Tan said to him, "You can do this, and say Haizhou Guangma. What have I done? Didn't I send a painting? It's shameful to flatter big shots, and it's not too much to do. Better stay away from them. ? He smiled at me and I smiled back at him.
It's time to leave. Tan gave Ma Haizhou the rubbings of Wei and Jin portrait bricks, but Ma Haizhou refused to accept them, saying, Next time you come, just give me your bronze mirror. It's engraved with four horses. You know, my name is Ma, and I belong to Ma. ?
1April 7, 997
Selected Essays of Jia Pingwa: About Father and Son
As a man's life, he is both a son and a father. The first half of a son is the shadow of his father, and the second half of his father is the shadow of his son.
A son is as cool as his father, and his father will be proud. There is a small replica of myself in the world. Looking at it all the time, it is like the moon in the flower water in the mirror, which is undoubtedly much more proud than just being a son. We often encounter such things. A friend died for decades and suddenly saw him one morning. He couldn't help calling his name. Of course he knows this is his son, but can he not envy this eternal realm?
Fathers want their sons to be themselves forever like skinned snakes, but quite a few sons are willing to split like skinned cicadas. A friend told me that the happiest thing for his son when he was a child was to let him lead him around the street. I'm only in the third grade of primary school now, so I don't want to go out with him because I think he is ugly.
In the tradition of China, there are? Strict father loving mother? So when I was a father for the first time, I could be tolerant and laissez-faire about everything, but I was very strict with my son, with a straight face and few words. I often shouted, punched and kicked. We can hear how each family treats our son. Bandits? Anything else to comment on? Watch your skin, okay? Warning, they often take it out on their sons. If you are suppressed by the leader, squeezed out by your colleagues, or even lose a bunch of keys and a game of chess. At that time, my son didn't have the strength to fight back, and he didn't scold much. As the economy was not independent, he even starved to death when he ran away from home. He can only cry, but he is often not allowed to cry, so he dare not cry again. Make out with your son once in a while, mostly because there is something happy. I want to make one happy event of my son into two happy events. Throughout youth, sons can call the president by his nickname, but they dare not say his father's tuba in a clever voice. What's the name of my neighbor? Zhang Youyou? His son never said? Fish? Come on, you still have to eat the fish on the table? Toad? So the children scolded the war, and it was a vicious curse to say the name of the other father. However, in everyone's experience, there is a history of his father being suppressed in the depths of his memory, and he still has resentment when he says it in his later years. Therefore, in rural areas, even in cities now, many sons are reluctant to be with their fathers, and they are often relatively speechless. We always find that the father's evaluation of his son is not accurate, let alone his son? Stay? , that is to say, he? Crazy? So that his son made a career or became a celebrity, he was still shocked and didn't believe it.
It can be said that the contradiction between the son and the father has existed since the son was born. First, he made his father's wife fall in love, then begged you to eat and drink and even made you angry, and finally buried his father himself. As the old saying goes, when a man is twelve and his son is twelve, his father will gradually decline. Therefore, it is probably a sense of jealousy in the source of human life that a father severely attacks his son from an early age. If inferred from this, the greatness of a woman lies in reconciling the contradiction between father and son. If there are only big men and small men in the world, they are actually ferocious beasts. God divided women into old women and little women to manage these men.
Only when the son becomes the father can the father realize that he is better to his father. He can sit on a stool with his father, cross his legs, smoke a cigarette in the same place and pull out the beard on his chin. But after a father lost the real power of a man at home, his heart-to-heart attitude towards his son was somewhat bitter. Maybe he understands that this is just like a victorious general's hospitality to a defeated soldier can only make people go easy on him. Even if his son's respect was sincere, his father felt it was a shame in his instinctive subconscious and began to love his grandson. This change is casual and will not be noticed by a sober mind. Father loves his grandson, so there is no seniority with him. Grandson can laugh that he loves fried beans but has no teeth to bite his mouth. Try to see who urinates far in the toilet. Naturally, grandpa wets his shoes and grandson pulls out his beard to punish him. Their contemporaries are together, telling their son's faults like a mother-in-law telling her daughter-in-law. They have completely become gossips, and only their grandson has come. What they like best, and what can best reflect their intimacy, is to touch their grandchildren? Little finch? . This seems to have become a habit, not to mention how many people have deep feelings, disappointment and yearning for it, but now it is the only amusement to touch the children as soon as they see them. Such scenes often make sons feel sad. When grandchildren and grandfathers play jokes inappropriately, they will beat their own sons. But at this time, the father was as fierce as an old wolf and began to scold his son without restraint, and the accumulated dissatisfaction in his stomach would be scolded. It was really dark.
But no matter how good grandpa is to his grandson, he doesn't appreciate it. Grandson was a real bitch when he was young. He has always been ungrateful to his grandfather, insisted on being his father's tonsil, made an extra pill for his father, and resisted the virus for his father. No grandchild will always remember his grandfather, so it is ridiculous for some people to emphasize that having a boy can carry on the family line. I want to ask, who can remember what his ancestors looked like and what their names were? The most remarkable thing is that four generations can know his grandfather and grandfather under one roof. Then, since future generations don't even know who Grandpa is, isn't the value of Grandpa's generation the same? Then, I want you to spread the seeds and receive the pulses. Do you understand the mystery? This is like eating is a heavy job, not only to eat, but also to cultivate, harvest and grind. When eating, you should bite, chew, digest and drain. If you want to complete this series of tasks, you will have a desire to eat. Fertility is a complicated job, with sex, pregnancy, childbirth and support, and if you want to complete this series of tasks, you will have sexual desire. It turns out that God played a trick to make people take advantage of small things and suffer big losses! Giving birth to a child is more laborious than eating, so after having a sense of pleasure, we must add a sense that we can't break the fragrance, so people will be so stupid to enjoy and reproduce. Alas, alas, what should I say, or just father and son?
Selected Works of Jia Pingwa's Prose V: Murals
The loess in Shaanxi is very thick, and there are plenty of tombs of the Tang Dynasty. Only Princess Yongtai, Prince Zhang Huai, Prince Yide, Princess Fangling, Li Shou, Li Zhen, Li Shuang and Zhang Hao have been excavated. In addition to a large number of rare treasures, the basement of the museum also displays 300 square meters of murals. These murals are different from Dunhuang. The tomb owners are emperors and nobles, what they lived before and what they will live after death. Murals are mostly maids and horses. There are beautiful women and beautiful horses. Think about it, what a proud thing life is!
The day I went to see these murals, it was extremely hot outside the museum, but the basement was very cold. As soon as the door opened, I was afraid to go in. Watching costume dramas, historical figures act on the stage, feeling that the ancient power is ancient, I am me, and there is always a layer in the middle. I visited from the basement door, but like a child in the country, I really peeped at the palace. ? Beautiful as a cloud? This is a word to describe the street now, but the beauty on the street is like a cloud, but it is not as light and simple as a cloud. We often say? Fat woman in Tang Nv? Even wonder if Yang Yuhuan is really beautiful? The ladies-in-waiting in the murals are tall, with long eyes, big breasts and fat buttocks, long skirts sweeping the floor and good looks. Look at that good horse with a round ass and slender legs, and you will know that people and horses are unified. Tang's spirit is enthusiasm, extroversion, boldness and boldness. His economy is prosperous, his culture is open, and his races are mixed, which is exactly the situation in western Europe today. We often admire the bodybuilding of western European women. What is it called? Horse of the sea? I didn't know that the Tang people had been like this for a long time. Women and horses turned out to be the same thing, and we can lament the decline of national strength after the Tang Dynasty. The more you invade, the more you flee to the south, the more closed you are, the racial degradation and physical weakness. Some people say that the overseas Chinese in the southeast corner of China are pure Han Chinese, but if so, the people there are not beautiful. It is said that fat is beauty in the Tang Dynasty, but what the Tang Dynasty advocates is strength. The era of horses is getting farther and farther away from us. Our poem praises the thin donkey and the tired old cow. Although there are mules on the plains, mules are only vassals of horses.
I love Don Ren Mei.
I went into the basement and walked all the way. 1997 to 593, the Buddhist paintings in Dunhuang once made me very mysterious. The only difference between these ancient and modern ladies-in-waiting is their clothes, but their plump and round faces, furry sideburns and slender and graceful posture make me feel the breath of real people. Looking at these women, I always feel that they are lifelike, so that after reading this and that, they all move aside carefully for fear of touching them. They are reserved and hurried, doing their work in an orderly way, or holding plates, or carrying lanterns, or geese with sleeves, or watching birds and catching cicadas. For a strange me, I am not flattering or fierce, and I look calm. Some of these women from the folk are very sad and lonely. After all, they are ladies-in-waiting and despise me as a countryman, but I regard them as immortals, and everyone admires them and feels ashamed. I understand Jia Baoyu's dull modeling in A Dream of Red Mansions, and I can't help but say? Daughters are made of water and men are made of mud? . You see, you see the "nine ladies in the palace", with eight heads, high bun, shawl, tray, box, candlestick, round fan, Gao Zubei, dust-dusting, clothes-wrapping and wishful thinking, looking around and echoing, and walking lightly. God, that sixth place is simply the first beauty in history. She wore a bun, a shawl and a long skirt to mop the floor. How well Gao Zubei holds it, neither high nor low, just in line with her tactful posture. Her eyes are slightly low, Gherardini and attractive. Should I give a light shout? Sister Liu? Yes! Such a pure and elegant woman, I firmly believe that the painter was not fictional, and she must have painted according to real people before her death. She was locked in the palace, even in the Tang Dynasty, she was invisible, but she finally showed it to me, and I saw the beauty that existed for thousands of years.
? Beauty is thousands of years old! ? My friend who went to see the mural with me said.
My friend's words made me feel sad at once, but my friend was glad for the beauty of the old age. I don't hate my friends. I always feel sad and happy about the beauty's aging, which may also be the complex psychology of emperors and princes. They took her before they died and took her to the underworld, leaving only the old beauty for future generations. These emperors and nobles turned to dust, leaving no trace of what they are, but this beautiful woman stayed in the mural, and their souls must still be attached to the painting. Of course, the soul has been a ghost, and it has been buried in the grave for thousands of years, but why don't I feel a little scared, just kind, and seem to know each other, as if I had hurried by in a hotel or street not long ago? I said to my friend: Do you understand why the scholar in Strange Tales from a Lonely Studio waited for the ghost to leave the window in the quiet night?
After reading the murals, I bought Mr. Tang Changdong's prints imitating the ancient walls of the museum. I don't want to? Sister Liu? In the deep palace tomb for thousands of years, now in the museum, she was originally a folk corpse, and I want to take her back to my home. I will hang the picture page in my room and look at it every day, hoping that she can come out through the wall. I said, Sister Liu, I don't want to keep you in the palace, and I don't have a golden house to hide my charming, but I will give you freedom and happiness, and I can also let you herd sheep. I want to be like Wang Ruobin, become a lamb, and let you gently beat me with a whip.