Withered Lotus and Rain
Art is appealing and is the artists’ emotional cohesion. As someone is willing to express times, to reproduce nature or even to advocate hallucination and void, I like to show off what I have seen and felt and to feel the beauty of nature in depression. Perhaps because I am a little nostalgic, or I am willing to seek a quietness after hotness, I get my inspiration to show natural images with a brush.
Every time, I leavethosetownship gardens, walk into outskirts of a town to look for natural mountains, streams, old streets, enjoy withered lotuses, wild cockscombs and overflow and surfy river in the snow or rain, I always feel pure beauty. When light of setting sun gives a poignant scene, I will casually have a glance, leisurely and reluctant to leave. Now, I lacks romance to sketch from nature with a paint box all around,lacks passion to draw a picture, instead, I usually stroll idly in a courtyard and draw what I have seen from my memory. WhenI am inspired, I only want to show my feeling about poignant nature, without any finishing, not related to beauties that have been finished. I am just willing to feel the beauty of nature. I alwayspuerilely ask what is nature? I think it should be living environment of all creatures, original and pure. I draw nature from memory so that I get a pure enjoyment while feeling the beauty of nature. This is artistic appealIstrive for.
When lotuses lose their splendor in summer, blown dry and withered by autumn wind, they are not as soft, clear and upright as they rise unsullied from mud, which is a beauty of depression. Sometimes I walk to a wooden bridge to see a pond with withered lotuses, where messy branches and withered lotus leaves are frozen in the pond like a sculpture, like a static dancer. I walk around the frozen pond alone and cannot help thinking that it is my reverence for life that makes me depressed and gloomy. I am only willing to keep it with my clumsy brush. Lotuses are really beautiful, sweet and elegant in summer, however, they are cold, lonely and like a sculpture when being still.
Year after year, whenever I come to suburban lotus pond, I seem to have seen beautiful lotuses next year, and in no time withered lotuses full of the pond pull me back, “in frosty autumn dusk, lotus leaves already fade in the water, however luckily several pieces are left to show the pitter-patter of rain to people.”