Holding the same brush Using the same ink Whether an imaginary landscape Or a poem The artist cannot approach nature As other Than a concept An abstraction in black and white
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Painting in black ink carving white paper Like a plow cutting through a field of white revealing all the colors, moods and emotions that lie beneath. Some say the color white is a combination of all color And black...
“The major decisions in the process of painting, are on the ground of truth not taste…. you follow the dictates of your passions, and it is only by giving yourself up completely to the medium that one find oneself...
Ink has a depth rarely seen in art or nature It shines, glows, moves and imposes itself on the spectator, the work and the artist. It does what the artist asks: a projection of his total self
Continuing to read through the poems of Xu Wei, the swashbuckler, poet and painter of the late Ming Dynasty, I came across this poem: Brandishing short sword and pistol, we surround them at dusk A cold wind blows the...
Grinding an ink stick on a stone shaped like the “wind” its fragrant smell fills the room connects me to the calligraphers of the past who have been grinding their own ink before they begin to write stretching back...
Unable to find flowers for today’s arrangement, to accompany the preparation of tea, I instead hung this scroll I painted of bamboo. I mounted this using Japanese silks in a Muramachi era Kake-mono style . The seal is one...
Staring out the window in my dining room, watching the clouds roll in over the mountains from the sea, I was inspired to hang an old painting from my collection. I wrote “layers of cloudy peaks” in large characters,...
Digging in the crates of hanging scrolls I made while living in Taiwan, I came across one of my first ink paintings I painted, while living in Tian MU. Two friends sit beneath a mountain peak by the water,...
A light rain has come back, and the last flowers of winter have fallen, scattered across the river of rock, that runs by my house.