Coming out of the darkness into the unknown.
By Rosalind: East Asia Correspondent
‘Of old those that were the best officers of the court had inner natures that were subtle, abstruse, mysterious, and penetrating. It’s too deep to understand… I can but tell of them as they appeared to the world… watchful… murky, as a troubled stream’. This citation from the Tao Te Ching, a 6th-century Chinese text, highlights the ambiguous nature of the Tao. We can translate Tao as path, stream, way, everything and nothing, that which brings the universe into existence, and that unfathomable mystery known as life. Words cannot clarify it, nor can intelligence comprehend its essence. A scientist might be able to decode the rules of the cosmos. However, it is beyond his power to touch the Tao’s core. In fact, one cannot understand the Tao’s teachings through reasoning and logic. It is something close to a transcendental experience.
Parallel to the Tao, the Way of Painting is also a process of transcendence. The act of actualizing the mind’s image on a sheet of paper is the embodiment of the abstract; the sensory objects, once perceived by the mind’s eye, become transcendental during the painting process. They transform into a language of imagery, facilitating transcendental communication between the body and mind. Instead of becoming entangled with thoughts, the mind aligns itself with the body’s movement.
The sway of the hand and the tilts of the brush highlight the creative mind’s concentration. Therefore, a process of transcendence is a two-fold bridge. For one, it bridges the gap between the sensory world and the mental world; for another, it connects what counts as unknown to the conscious mind and enables the conscious mind to further the understanding of the self. However, to say painting is comparable to the Tao seems to be against the mainstream.
For many, painting is a charismatic ability that only privileges the few. To create an image, one has to be talented enough to render the picture not only visually joyful but also intellectually inspirational. The demand for adroit painting skills seems to be an insurmountable obstacle to achieving mastery in painting, leading many people to cringe at the thought of creating paintings. They might throw away the brush before even allowing it to touch the canvas. Learning how to paint becomes a pain for those who do not think of themselves as artistically gifted.
Nonetheless, putting too much emphasis on skills can compromise the authenticity of the painting process. As aforementioned, painting is the channel through which consciousness reaches the hidden unconscious mind. The in-depth reading of oneself is always at the core of creating a picture. A good painting skill may help, but it never determines the significance of the painting process. Therefore, the value of a painting cannot be defined solely by skills. The spiritual significance of the painting touches the viewer’s heart. A painting can be aesthetically chaotic but spiritually inspiring. In other words, painting is a spiritual practice rather than a physical performance. When it comes to the mental image, the mind is working to reveal what is most valuable to an individual. As a result, painting allows a person to have an inner dialogue that leads to the renewal of their whole spirit.
“Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant, there is no such thing. Making your unknown known is the important thing.” Georgia O’Keeffe
To know one’s true self,
one must forsake learning.
To become a blank sheet of paper
that allows the self to resurface.
However, painting is paradoxical. Without skill learning, one might not be able to paint, while the learning itself undermines the spirit of painting. Training how to paint focuses on hands-on skills, and an efficient observation. When it comes to mastering painting, the coordination between eyes and hands is significant.
However, becoming a master of painting does not require a well-trained skill. On the contrary, a well-arranged image might hinder the understanding of the self. If a picture is just a showcase of meticulous skills learned through copying and repeating, it may become unauthentic and dull. To know one’s true self, one must forsake learning and become a blank sheet of paper that allows the self to resurface.
“A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.” – Michelangelo.
The mind is a miniature of the macrocosm, with an amorphous outlook and undefinable width. Painting is the mind’s work; it does not have a beginning or end. In other words, painting is a product of infinity. Taoism views the universe as an unnameable constant existence.
Buddhism goes so far as to say that everything is essentially empty, and that the existence of something is always relative and dependent. There is a Buddhist term 缘起性空 (Emptiness of Dependent Origination) that accounts for this idea, in which “Emptiness” is the key to understanding the nature of this universe. The universe is in constant evolution. However, the existence of everything requires “emptiness,” meaning that “vacuity gives rise to wondrous existence.” This idea resonates with Derrida’s account of writing. According to Derrida, writings have no central structure, no central foundation. None of the properties of any part of this web are elementary and fundamental; instead, they all reflect the properties of other parts.
As a result, painting echoes the mind’s pattern and features an endless process of creation. The figure in a painting varies depending on the setting. It keeps being defined by changing the shapes and colours of the context. The dynamism of the mind inspires it, and it flows freely when external factors stimulate it. Therefore, to paint is to know how to stop painting in such a way that the painting process takes its own terms. When the painter lets go of the learning and becomes an ‘empty’ board, the transcendental dialogue begins.
