Oriental Art. Chinese Painting 《东方艺术.国画》

Without doubt, Zhu Wei and his work have become a mirror of contemporary Chinese art. Zhu Wei has penetrated the depths of reality with his extraordinary wit and sharpness, and opened a new door for the public to acquaint themselves with Chinese contemporary art through his works, which are lively and rich in visual tension. I have written an article which focuses on the following observation: the reason why Zhu Wei reigns supreme in the Chinese contemporary art scene is that, unlike other short-sighted artists who sacrifice their artistic ideal as a result of temptations of all sorts, Zhu Wei kept raising his artistic platform until it reached a height which is unsurpassed by others. Amazingly, he might be subtle and introverted in temperament, yet in art he is like a fighter charging ahead, seizing a foothold in the various fields of ink painting, printmaking and sculpture. Some of his works are already classics of our time, assuming an unchallengeable historical position. If my prediction is right, these works shall become monuments of artistic creation.

As an artist, a contemporary Chinese artist in particular, many complicated factors have been transformed outwardly into the set design behind the work. People seem to enjoy and be enamored of the ornaments in the set. To quote Li Xianting: “What is important is not the art” - but what is? Many years ago I was involved in a discussion with several art critics about some strange phenomena in Chinese contemporary art. We all came to the conclusion that, because of outside disturbances and inborn anaemia, our artists generally suffer from malnutrition; not because they lack talent or have devoted too little effort; it would certainly be unfair to ask that they strive to make up their inborn limitations. If at all there is a problem with the artists, it’s because the soil which nurtures them is barren. The limitations are pre-set and it’s not difficult to trace the root-cause of all kinds of narrations. Still, there is an exception to everything and a few members of the cream of China’s contemporary art scene seem to possess a kind of self-sufficiency. This element of self-sufficiency is rooted in their genius and vision, which transports them beyond pre-set limitations. 　

One day, some years ago, I had a chat with Zhu Wei about the relation between the fame of an artist and artistic creation, and I discovered, to my surprise, how low-keyed he is. Then I remembered someone once told me Zhu Wei is an interesting subject - one can always uncover something out of the ordinary from him. I have received material on him, from the artist himself, in which there is no lack of records of excellence. Yet I could see his effort in trying to conceal those records. Westerners like to say that your character is your fate. Many people do not know how to treat their fate; Zhu Wei never flaunts his achievement or outlines a grand panorama of his vision for the future. To quote him, he just “labours silently like a hard-working farmer.”

In the grip of summer heat Zhu Wei arrived in Nanjing on a tour. During our conversation we hit on the idea of recording the content of our casual chat. Should something worthwhile emerge, we would compile it into a collection of dialogues on art and life. The dialogue went on for nine days and basically our thoughts and positions conveyed in the process were well captured in the recording. We titled the recording ‘Talk of Nine Days’ to give it a temporal dimension. It was perhaps the first time Zhu Wei had delved deep into things he seldom had touched on in ordinary life, and I discovered a passion in him for the expression of feelings hidden underneath his linguistic simplicity and self-repression. Despite his low-keyed style and unwillingness to get into verbal flourish, I believe I captured his linguistic buoy. His talent and perseverance are illustrated not only in his paintings - he has an immense inner strength which is amazing.

In his discussion of the artistic traits of artists, Taine emphasized: “There is a ‘family’ behind all the artists.” To me it means no artist can avoid a certain inherent restraint on him/her. I discovered an interesting fact in my reading of some of the critiques of Zhu Wei by critics outside China: these critics (including art curators) inevitably hold a common stand in their interpretation of contemporary Chinese art - they try their very best to crack the ‘secret political code’ hidden in the work of Chinese artists; with thoughts turned to a political linkage even in seemingly ordinary scenes or depictions. I think the political interest in the Chinese artists has obviously been exaggerated - even demonized - by some Westerners. Yet, from an ideological and psychological perspective, this phenomenon is enhanced by a relationship of mutual dependence. Zhu Wei’s art is the product of this age and, to quote Taine again, a member of the “family”. The question is: can we find artistic expressions that are deeper in nature, given the fact that all are typical works of the same age? What’s contained in some representative works of Zhu Wei is neither a statement nor cynicism or play; its implications are different from ‘political pop’. Here I would like to add that there is often a basis to the political complex of the Chinese artists, whose thread is clearly discernable. Prompted by a desire to give vent to personal feelings, artists are unanimously attracted to common subjects and themes; the effect of the‘family’ is evident. In handling his subjects, Zhu Wei skillfully turns a certain collective unconsciousness into a unique personal viewpoint. In his work he ingeniously interweaves his childhood dreams with real-life circumstances, constructing a virtual reality that runs parallel to life; a reality that is filled with all sorts of contradictory contrasts which dissolve unenthusiastically into harmony, and which mirrors a pain in the depths of his spirit. At the same time, the pain reflects his genuine concern for society and humanity. 　

Zhu Wei has repeatedly emphasized to me the essence of “humanity” rather than the so-called “political complex”. As far as the issue of humanity is concerned, specific concern can be demonstrated only within the scope of a specific linguistic context, since there is no pure, abstract humanity. However, his concern for humanity makes Zhu Wei more mature than his contemporaries. Zhu Wei does not explicitly reveal the ‘humanity’ aspect but keeps his feelings condensed at the level of sensibilities which, for an artist, happens to be a solid and effective gesture. I wish to elaborate that ‘humanity’ in the eyes of Zhu Wei is interpreted variedly from the lengthy and laborious one offered by the intellectuals. He approaches it from the soil of existence stripped of all frills. Humanity is pervasive while political complex changes with time. That Zhu Wei is able to deepen his themes on the basis of humanity is a crafty act. I have seen quite a large number of Zhu Wei’s works and realized that the myriad themes are but contours of expressions for him; what lies at the core of these works is his superb grasp of man’s situation in life. Be it a work that impresses outwardly as politically-inclined or one that reflects his personal experiences, the common thread which runs through them is evident.

Ink painting is the main medium utilized by Zhu Wei, who has also created a considerable number of sculptures and prints. Wherever one might find his ink pieces, it is obvious, from motif to expressiveness; the artist has exploited to the full the expressive powers of the medium. One might say that in his hands ink painting is no longer an art medium but a deft mother-tongue, a tool which he wields to perfection. I have seen too many shoddy works and works which showcase petty acts; there are indeed many painters around us who win fame and fortune by gimmicky feats; such a trend tends to threaten, to erode, all the artists inside the circle. Zhu Wei doesn’t mind if he is considered an insider or not - he counters the erosion almost by a kind of self-exile. His ink paintings are much sought after by a considerable number of collectors, but I think few among them truly comprehend the meaning of his works. I have written an article titled From Chinese Painting to Ink in which I state that the change in concept is actually a change in standpoint. The endless debates on ‘Chinese Painting’ are due to the ambiguity in concept, while ‘Ink’ is a medium. Hence it is highly flexible, in terms of the scope and form of its expression. Zhu Wei doesn’t care much for the kind of expressive (xie yi) ink paintings which are casually composed, and rejects others which are shabbily painted on the spur of the moment. An American researcher of Chinese art history has asserted that the rise of the expressive (xie yi) painting halted the development of Chinese art history. Putting aside the issue of whether this is bigotry, his judgment was formed on account of the phenomenon he observed. Chinese painters are fond of saying “One should follow the spirit of the ancients and not their way.” This rather reverses the correct order of things. From the works of many contemporary artists one can see that much of the way of the ancients has been used with the “spirit” thrown to the wind. Zhu Wei makes no bones about his love of gongbi (fine-lined traditional style) painting. In his work, the mode of gongbi as a form of expression serves to bring out the idea and atmosphere of his imagery. His use of line, colour and texture shows continuity of the traditional practice, but because his conceptualization originates from reality, a flavour of contemporary time is palpable in his works. In the creation of imagery I would say he has surpassed the ancients. And I must again emphasize the contemporary flavour of his imagery - note that many contemporary artists love to resort to the externalization of self-image, but in Zhu’s work, its handling has become a symbol of the times. Many years later, the images in his painting shall be the visual code with which people can distinguish our era.

At one time there were heated discussions among Chinese art critics about the limitations of the expressive power of ink painting, which obviously runs counter to the present situation of contemporary art. Take Zhu Wei for example: whether ink painting, printmaking or sculpting, genre and medium are of no significance - when the time is ripe an artist will give life to whatever form of art when spurred by a creative impulse. The prints of Zhu Wei take on the characteristics of his ink painting: abbreviated, pure and simple, and full of visual tension. Furthermore, the nature of the print material serves to enhance the form quality of his imagery. Zhu Wei’s sculptures are scattered in various regions outside of China, which makes it difficult for the mainland viewers to view them. I have told Zhu Wei that sculpture is quite an impressive component of his repertoire and that I would like to invite him to participate in a forth-coming exhibition of architecture and sculpture which I am planning. I think the fact that Zhu’s works have captured the fancy of overseas organizations and individual collectors also gives an international dimension to his art, and adds a demonstrative value to it.

Dictated by his habits and predilections, Zhu Wei moves forward, step-by-step, remaining as low-keyed and earthy as he has always been. I have reasons to believe that he is growing and heading for his zenith, and that of our times. Today, more and more people have a clear view of his gigantic stature. This is the triumph of time - just like they say: “Time is the final judge.”

Deng Xin (hereinafter referred to as Deng): In recent years, the term of "contemporary ink and wash" frequently appears in domestic exhibitions or seminars of art, and various opinions linger in our ears. Currently, we should say that the contemporary ink and wash is relatively popular--some art galleries began to collect them and some collectors started to treat them as investment orientation. However, no one can tell the future of "contemporary ink and wash" for sure. What do you think of this phenomenon?

Zhu Wei (hereinafter referred to as Zhu): Whatever form the "contemporary ink and wash" takes to appear is no surprise. That proved the return and people's recognition of local painting pattern. We have realized its value, which means that we started to have a little confidence in our own cultures, including traditional cultures.

Deng: We have finally found the long lost confidence in local art in culture after China's economic power significantly increased. Over the 30 years since reform and opening up, the changes of political, economic and cultural environments have influenced and promoted the development of Chinese paintings. In the 1980s, the initial period of the reform and opening up, under the influence of western culture, Chinese traditional cultures and thoughts went through the impacts of westernization trend, which made it share similarity with the May 4th New Cultural Movement; in the 1990s, with the deepening of the reform, art creations began to pay attention to the combination of real life, local culture's return and cultural identity's identification; that trend continued in the first decade of the 20th century. Chinese contemporary ink and wash has developed for 30 years. As an ink and wash painter, how do you feel about it?

Zhu: In the recent hundred years, China had been influenced by various kinds of capitalism and socialism thoughts, theories and economic development modes from the west, including the Soviet Union, which fiercely hit the Chinese society again and again. Up till now, none of the things around us, including the days we are living, is developed by ourselves or inherited from our ancestors. The May 4th Movement was just a little beginning and latter several movements were much more violent and consistent with some even lasted for a decade. Such a most resolute and complete self-denial spirit could be found nowhere else in any other country. Sooner or later, history would ask: what kind of people are we? Who we really are?

Deng: Contemporary ink and wash changed the standardized expression methods of traditional ink and wash, representing diversified features: in the aspect of content, they strive to show vivid social life and emotion, which is at pace with the time; in technique, they are more tolerant in the requirements of brushstroke and materials; in visual aspect, the pictures carry more messages. In the above mentioned aspects, diversification promoted the development of Chinese paintings.

Zhu: The biggest difference between contemporary ink and wash and traditional one is that the former has got rid of the influences of court paintings and literati paintings, no more focusing on individuals, groaning, whining and way too emotional. Instead, they have become involved in the development process of society, with flesh and blood, tear and laughter and understanding of you and me.

Deng: Contemporary ink and wash is no longer just about individual thoughts expressed by literati painters, but they pay more attention to the real problems in society and are closer to life. In your works from the 1990s to present, there are both realism and expressionism colors fully displayed. Can you talk about your feelings?

Zhu: First, I want to make it clear that there are no literati or literati painting in China after several disconnected social periods but only people who look like literati or paintings similar to literati paintings. It's definitely impossible for literati or literati paintings to suddenly appear among the generations after 1980s and 1990s. That may happen after several decades. Then, we are lucky to live in this turbulent era, though it's not easy to live, we are all witnesses of the history. As an artist, it's my duty to record and portrait the social evolution precisely. I've never painted a painting that is free from the social reality and I can't.

Deng: Traditional ink and wash emphasize aesthetic cultivation and hard work, and may even require the accumulation of "reading ten thousand books and walking ten thousand miles". While contemporary ink and wash put more stress on the pictures' visual effects and tension, and maybe less on lines, the quality of ink color and the approach in seal. Personally, I believe artists should keep their culture bottom line while doing art creations. Should contemporary ink and wash be rooted in tradition? Please talk about your opinions.

Zhu: Bottom line is out of the question. What you said are the basic requirements on a painter. It's not even important where the ink and wash are rooted. First of all, you need to make sure your painting is ink and wash. Secondly, you need to have confidence in the ink and wash you are drawing. You can't force yourself.

Deng: Are there any painters in Chinese painting history that have influenced you?

Deng: Many painters try to build fancy effects with materials in this material-rich era. From the 1990s to now, it seems that you have never changed your painting materials. You kept using rice paper, writing brush, Chinese painting pigment in creating the boneless meticulous paintings combining traditional culture and contemporary life. Compared to ink and wash, is that way more suitable to represent the nowadays social life? In the painting process, are there also problems in technique to solve?

Zhu: Drawing ink and wash has already become part of my life and a life style. I keep thinking about the possibilities of transforming all the visual pictures and images that I see every day into ink and wash. It's your patience that counts in the drawing process. It requires hard work and total concentration if you want to draw well. In a word, once you get distracted, the paintings are ruined.

Deng: In the 1990s, " Political Pop" was an important contemporary painting style in China, which was recognized by the international market then. You created quite a lot of influential representative works, and there were many great figures and soldiers painted among them. Does that have something to do with your soldier family background and your soldier life for more than ten years? Is it a coincidence in subject matter or you purposely did it?

Zhu: I was an artist of the same generation with those post-89 artists, among whom there were only two people reached out to the world with ink and wash. One was me, and the other was Wei Dong, who also draws meticulous ink and wash. We share the same subject matter and style. Zhang Xiaogang, Fang Lijun and Wang Guangyi signed the Hanart Gallery; Wei Dong and I signed the Plum Blossoms Gallery; Yang Shaobin and Yue Minjun signed the Schoeni Art Gallery in the same year.

Deng: In early 1990s, contemporary ink and wash were still at the edge of the whole contemporary art circles. Under the context of globalization, Chinese painters realized the importance of culture identity. The local culture roots are indispensable in the identification of culture identity. As one of the earliest internationalized painters, did you ever encounter that problem?

Zhu: Yes. At that time, we appeared more as the weak and refugee. Being weak to call for sympathy and it didn't come to the level of cultural similarities and differences. I remember in a big individual ink and wash exhibition held abroad in 1994, I signed man's names after the ladies' and that brought me applauses, which means the artist from mainland China at least has the basic civilization and is unexpectedly a man of humane.

Deng: Maybe your work is based on your interests. Besides painting, you also finished many prints and sculpture works. Rock music became an indispensable part of your life in the 1990s and the series work named after the original song Eggs Left Over by the Red Flag written by old friend Cui Jian came into being. In China's art circles, few artists take various kinds of creations at the same time, and surely, it has something to do with personal energy and talent.

Zhu: In the ancient times, the people who draw ink and wash loved to make inscriptions after drawing, for their calligraphy are good and they are really talented. Sometimes, they would also take a shower, play an instrument, compose a piece of music or write some lyrics, etc, which are called refined interests or icing on the cake. I can't do all those things, but I can do the things that the ancient people had never been able to see, such as using computer, playing guitar, making MV or sculpture, etc, which may also be referred to as refined interests hundreds of years later.

I grew up listening to revolution songs and then rock music. I have more friends playing rock music than those who paint. I love rock music because they have to reflect reality. I always sign my paintings with rock music lyrics. Revolution songs influenced us and we in turn influenced them, and through our unremitting effort, rock music finally took place of the revolution songs.

The subject matters of all my works are realistic ones that criticize the reality. I did what the intellectuals should do incidentally with the passion of youth.

Deng: The transformation from revolution songs to rock music witnessed the transition of cultures. Your paintings reflected many social reality problems, among which there are also critical and cynical implications. In that point, they are consistent with Chinese rock music's spirits. Then, during the 20 years of Chinese rock music history, they absorbed the nutrition of traditional culture and customs in its development process. Being critical and rebelling, they are also embodied with idealism colors. They revealed various kinds of problems like culture stance, values and human nature in China's modernization process. You witnessed the development of Chinese rock music. Can you talk about its current development situation?

Zhu: Chinese rock music directly influenced my creations for decades. Like what I said in their seminars, its rebelling spirits are still there but not its idealism colors. It's becoming more and more internationalized, that is to say, increasingly losing its Chinese flavor.

Deng: Since you ended the contract with the Plum Blossoms Gallery, your painting creations had been remained at the state of stagnation or rest. When do you plan to start new creations?

Zhu: I cooperated with the Plum Blossoms Gallery for 14 years. It was my worldwide exclusive agent. I continued drawing from 26 to 41 and completed our contract satisfactorily, and that was a happy art creation period of my life. Up till now, I haven't painted anything for 4 or 5 years. I will resume painting in 2012, for there are several big exhibitions to be held and contracts are signed already.

Using the Past to Serve the Present --Traditional Elements in the Art of Zhu Wei

Zhu Wei is famously a painter of political and social subjects who regularly draws on motifs from traditional Chinese painting. He juxtaposes ancient and unmistakably modern figures to offer reflections on Chinese life and society from the perspective of the era of reform and opening that began in the early 1980s. He also works with traditional media, but evolved his own ways of using them. There are clear connections to the period of the Cultural Revolution and quotations from the art of the imperial past marshaled to tell stories of the more recent past. The mood is gently ironic. Cadres in their Mao jackets and motifs from Song or Yuan dynasty paintings seem equally distant in both being part of history. Zhu Wei’s art reflects a culture and society that have changed dramatically, so we are prompted to ask: what is enduring in Chinese culture? And how we are to understand China’s history over the second half of the twentieth century?

Zhu Wei’s most recent work is a series of paintings under the title “Vernal Equinox,” which carries his art in a new direction. In “Vernal Equinox No. 3” (Fig. 1) weightless figures levitate against an undefined ground amid flowers and leaves. Their faces are impassive, but variously register glum indifference, distress, surprise, or satisfaction. Hands are tucked into pockets or folded into sleeves recalling the idea of passively “looking on with folded arms.” Scale varies, but not consistently enough to indicate recession or space. Hair whooshes up as though the figures are dropping, or blowing in the breeze like seeds of germinating trees. Looking rather like untethered balloons, the figures are unconnected, neither looking at each other or at us. At the lower left, a branch of peach blossoms in luxuriant bloom is larger than any of the figures and anchors the painting. This is a quotation from an anonymous small round fan of the Southern Song (960-1278), here painted much larger and on paper instead of silk (Fig. 2). On the left and right borders are impressions of large seals, deployed in the manner of collectors’ inventory seals, half on the painting and half on a now-missing mounting. One legend is “www,” an incomplete website address. In most of the paintings, we see the characters Zhu Wei, cut in half vertically. These are interspersed with smaller seals, with such legends as “Eight or Nine Out of Ten” (Shi you ba jiu), “Zhu Wei Authentication Seal” (Zhu Wei yin jian), or “www zhuweiartden com.” There is typically a small signature in a variant of ancient script that recalls the carved inscriptions on Northern Wei stele or the so-called lacquer script of Jin Nong ().

The series title reminds that it is spring and these floating figures may be falling in love. It is the traditional motif of the thickly blossoming peach blossoms that confirms the romantic connection. The poet Tao Qian (365-427) gave peach blossoms a measure of fame when he wrote the “Peach Blossom Spring Preface” about a remote valley far from the strife of a war-torn world. In later centuries peach blossoms were increasingly associated with sensual pleasure such as in the popular seventeenth century play Peach Blossom Fan.[1] In Vernal Equinox No. 1, while peach blossoms communicate romance, the individual experience is inequitable. Some figures float in contentment; earth-bound figures are left merely to think about love, to dwell on memories or longings. The “Vernal Equinox” theme will cause some Chinese viewers to think of Dong Wenhua’s song “1992—Another Spring.” The song was inspired by Deng Xiaoping’s well-publicized southern tour that symbolically announced renewed efforts to carry forth economic and social reforms. The “new spring” led to the closing of unprofitable factories and the loss of certainty for many citizens. The “Vernal Equinox” series will have many more images. When it is complete, we may have a better idea of how these individual stories are resolved.

Like many of Zhu Wei’s works in recent years, the “Vernal Equinox” paintings are patinated and the colors made more nuanced by rinsing and further working the painting surface. How does Zhu Wei achieve this distinctive effect? Early in his painting career, Zhu Wei elected to work in the traditional media of soft-haired brush, ink and paper. He, however, manipulates them in unconventional ways. The mulberry-bark paper, which is made in Anhui province to his specifications, has to be strong and resilient to hold up under the repeated soakings. He antiques the paper by brushing on a mustard-colored wash. The paper being treated lies on a wooden grid or nubby carpet which creates interesting patterns as pigments puddle in the hollows of indentations. Zhu Wei keeps watch as the paper dries, sometimes soaking up or washing off unwanted pigments. He carefully considers the elements that will best express his thoughts, distilling designs from multiple sketches. For the key persona, model sketches (fenben 粉本) are made. The model sketch allows him to shift the figures around, to multiply them (the characters often appear in pairs), and to recombine them in different contexts. With the main elements in place, lines are inked with a traditional brush. In the modern era, because Chinese characters are written with pens, pencils and computers, the soft brush is no longer a necessity of daily life, but a aesthetic exercise. Zhu Wei inks such lines as are needed with a deft and light touch. The forms are primarily formed with color washes in both vivid and muted tones. Before finalizing the eyes and hair, he rinses the paper under the tap, crunching the painting here and there. It is a process that takes finesse, experience and a little courage because, more than once, the paper has given way, spoiling the painting. Despite the risk, it seems worth doing as the results are intriguing: an antiqued surface, mottled and cracked, with a distinctive texture and depth. The relatively slow pace at which he produces art, recalls the Tang dynasty poet Du Fu’s description of a contemporary who simply could not be rushed: “Ten days to paint a pine tree, five days to paint a rock.”[2] This observation could equally apply to Zhu Wei’s preparation of materials and compositions.

Enhancing the connection with dynastic Chinese painting are the seals mentioned above and Zhu Wei’s calligraphy. He inscribes and signs his paintings in a distinctive hand that is inspired by the clerical script (li shu) of the third to first centuries BCE. When the inscriptions are written in white on vertical black panels, they form strong graphic elements in the composition and resemble the calligraphy on archaeologically-excavated wooden or bamboo slips. At other times the vertical rows seem to float like propaganda slogans that, during Zhu Wei’s youth, hung from balloons at major gatherings.[3]

Zhu Wei’s art has been shaped by the unique circumstances of his age and life experience. Growing up in an army household, Zhu Wei was an impetuous youth with little inclination to do his parents’ bidding. In 1982 at age sixteen he enlisted in the People’s Liberation Army. At the time, the status of the army was in momentary decline. During the Great Proletariat Cultural Revolution, the PLA had enjoyed high position due to its having preserved China from devolving into a full-fledged civil war in 1967-1968. As the only government organization reliably loyal to the Central Government, the PLA had restored order after the chaos unleashed by the Red Guards. From the summer of 1968, the PLA was directing the Cultural Revolution with Mao’s wife Jiang Qing serving as the PLA’s cultural impresario. The arrest in 1976 of Jiang Qing and the Gang of Four (characters who would later appear in his paintings) and their conviction in 1981, tarnished the military’s heroic reputation. The momentous redirection of government policy to economic reform and engagement with the outside world further diminished the role of the army. Because his father was a soldier, Zhu Wei was aware of this shift in perception, but, given his interest in art, enlisting in the army trumped the alternative of following his mother into medicine.

After three years as a regular enlistee, Zhu was admitted to the PLA Art Academy in the Haidian district of Beijing, and his enthusiasm for all things visual was put to the test. The training was both rigorous and tedious. One exercise was to practice drawing lines and circles with a rolled up paper tube. The tip of the tube had to be inked just so. The arm had to be suspended above the paper; leaning an elbow on the table resulted in an uneven line. Too much pressure and the hollow tube would crunch and bend. Hours of drawing lines and circles with a squishy paper tube drove some young minds to distraction. If one lasted, then the discipline took hold and eventually provided precision, deftness of touch, patience, and a sense of pride. The study of approved literature and political thought provided another strand for Zhu Wei’s art: the poetry of Mao Zedong (1893-1976), and the recitation of official slogans such as Art must serve the people, The past should serve the present, Hold high the great red banner, Implement the Four Modernizations. At the same time, the restrictive atmosphere of the military encouraged day-dreaming and the creation of an imaginative world. Because of his decade-long association with the PLA, when he began painting, soldiers and officials frequently appear in his works as well as the mind-numbing tedium of meetings. Graduating from the Art Academy in 1989, Zhu drew an assignment that was not to his liking, so he turned to what would become a second major influence in his art, film.

In 1990 he enrolled in the Beijing Film Academy for three years and began to assemble in memory hundreds of classic films. At the end of 1992, in anticipation of completing the course and having to make a living, Zhu Wei began to think about painting as a career. For what he had to say, painting was the language with which he was most competent. The art of film making, however, gave him a unique perspective. The framing of many paintings resonates with a film shot or a full-screen close up; some compositions bear a resemblance to story boards, or to movie sets. More importantly, film informed the way that Zhu thought about painting as narration. He conceived of his paintings in terms of allegory and story telling. In any given series, the paintings communicate with each other like scenes in a film or like a succession of frames. However striking they are individually, the paintings are more revealing in aggregate. They are less like a traditional narrative handscroll, or a series of album leaves, and closer in mood to a sequence of film clips.

Popular culture contributed further contemporary influences. Elements from novels, plays and rock music appear in his paintings. Zhu Wei was captivated by the immediacy of rock music. Cui Jian, one of the key figures of China’s new music scene, wrote lyrics that became Zhu Wei’s text, providing inspiration for images and inscriptions. In the regular patterning of bars and bold ink dots in the series “Descended from the Red Flag” or “Story of sister Zhao,” one can sense the insistent beat of rock music.

When Zhu Wei considers pictures of China’s rich visual past, he gravitates to the art of the imperial painting academies, especially the idealized realism of Song dynasty painting. His incorporation of traditional motifs from court works, however, does not mean that Zhu Wei could have won a position in an imperial painting academy. In dynastic China, serving as a court artist required not only technical facility, but also a certain disposition, a willingness to paint whatever the court required. Under emperor Huizong (r. 1100-1125) rigorous examinations were instituted to select painters. In skill and imagination, Zhu Wei would have passed with ease. More difficult would have been the requirement to conform to a style specified by the court. As one mid-twelfth century author wrote:

What was esteemed at that time was formal likeness alone. If anyone had personal attainments and could not avoid being expressive or free, then it would be said that he was not in accordance with the rules or that he did not continue the heritage of a master.[4]

One suspects that Zhu Wei would not have made the cut, for although he paints with the precision and meticulous techniques of an academy painter, his style is uniquely his own. Zhu Wei is gifted and disciplined but also opinionated. During the reign of Emperor Huizong’s father Shenzong (r. 1068-1085) artists were recommended to the court rather than selected by examination and his father was more tolerant. After Emperor Shenzong ascended the throne, a famous painter named Cui Bai (active second half 11th c.) was summoned to court at the beginning of the Xining reign (1068-1077). Biographies relate that although Cui Bai was an exceptional painter, he was said to be overly casual and unable to fulfill his responsibilities. By circumstance and inclination, Zhu Wei has a bit of the independent personality of a Cui Bai.

While Song dynasty court painting has the greatest drawing power for Zhu Wei, his taste is admirably eclectics. He reveres Fan Kuan’s monumental landscape of about 1000 CE, Traveling among Streams and Mountains (hanging scroll, Taipei Palace Museum) with its breathtaking scale. He esteems the court paintings of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, such as Water Studies by the court painter Ma Yuan (active ca. 1190-1230, handscroll, Beijing Palace Museum) and the Flower Basket by Li Song (active ca. 1190-1230) with its precise brushwork and balanced use of strong colors (Fig. 3). Zhu Wei is a particular fan of the work of the early Qing dynasty (1644-1911) individualists Zhu Da (Bada Shanren, 1626-1705) and Shitao (1642-1707), both of whom were descendents of the Ming dynasty imperial clan. Their idiosyncratic works defined life-long struggles to create identity and find acceptance under Manchu rule. In the dangerous world of the early Qing dynasty, when Ming loyalist generals were still battling Manchu forces, both Bada Shanren and Shitao hid their imperial lineage and were guarded in making friends. Bada’s paintings of birds and fish show a keen awareness of the dangers lurking in relationships. His birds anxiously eye each other, alert to hidden agendas (Fig. 4). This sense of caution informs the cast of characters that people Zhu Wei’s paintings and, beyond body language, it is the eyes that communicate emotions. While some appear self-satisfied or tolerant, many are watchful, wary, and still others are resigned, bitter, or vindictive. They all seem to be negotiating their way through social mine fields, careful not to misstep. The series of paintings of children performing on a tightrope is evocative of the paranoia that typified the aftermath of the era of class struggle in 1990s China. The children have the anxious expressions of kids who are accustomed to being punished but are not sure why. Earnestly concentrating on finding the right balance, they strive to please with a good performance.

His well-known series titled “Utopia” features huge heads on sturdy bodies participating in official meetings. In a sequence of as many as fifty paintings, party members listen with respect, with boredom, sometimes dutifully taking notes with stubby fountain pens. Because Zhu Wei has sat through many of these meetings, his portrayals are sympathetic for he knows what it is to struggle to keep attention. Small details are entertaining: a People’s Representative has an ear stud suggesting punk leanings; a large worm hole in a robust banana plant hints that it is past its prime. The meetings feature huge red flags and a cheerful floral display of the sort that graces the dais at every formal gathering (Fig. 5). The basket of flowers adapted from the Li Song album leaf of figure four fits well as an emblem of the modern court. The vivid fresh flowers form a contrast with the grizzled, vacuous, or attentive faces listening to the drone of speeches that will reveal the new party line.

Juxtaposition of polychrome realism and artful criticism is not new to the twentieth century. In Chinese painting history, although the writing brush was the implement of choice for scholars wishing to hint at discontent, vivid color was also employed to lodge silent complaints, especially in vegetable and flower paintings.[5] Here “realism” does not mean fidelity to the phenomenological world but rather to psychological reality, the truth that is found in Zen Buddhist and literati monochrome ink painting.

Mixing ancient and modern elements often results in humorous and ironic pictures. In The Trials of a Long Journey No. 2 of 1994, for example, there is a visual quotation from the twelfth century handscroll The Night Revels of Han Xizai (Beijing Palace Museum, attributed to Gu Hongzhong of the tenth century). The Night Revels was said to have been commissioned to record the rakish Minister Han Xizai’s evening soirees. In the Song dynasty handscroll, the women provide the full-range of entertainment from music and dance to sexual favors. In the background of Zhu Wei’s painting, one sees a pair of figures from The Night Revels composition: a man with his arm around the shoulder of a young girl urges her off to a tryst. The irony (and irreverence) of Zhu Wei’s work comes from the series title, “The Trials of a Long Journey,” or in Chinese “a thousand mountains, ten thousand rivers,” a reference to the Long March.[6]

Another traditional source tapped by Zhu Wei is the lore of the horse. In dynastic Chinese literature and painting, horses were frequent metaphors for human talent in all its variety. The noble stallion, the lazy mount, the abused steed, the starving nag all appear in literary allegories and paintings. Horses are depicted responding to their riders in the excitement of the hunt, interacting with their handlers, enjoying or enduring the existence that it is their lot. The intelligence and awareness of such horses, is captured in a well-known wall painting in the tomb of Lou Rui, the prince of Dongan of the Northern Qi (550-577). Among the equestriennes parading on the walls, a few steeds startle us as they look askance or directly out at the viewer.[7] The wall painter seems to tell us that these hard-working horses know that they are metaphors.

Why are horses wandering through Zhu Wei’s paintings? Often upstaged by foreground heads that partly obscure them, the horses seems to have personal meanings. One source that he has used multiple times is a horse and groom painting that is attributed to the great scholar, painter, and calligrapher Zhao Mengfu (1254-1322). In “Training a Horse” (Fig. 6), the groom stands in the conventional position to the right of the horses’ head. What is unconventional is the stiff wind that whips the horse’s tail and mane as well as the groom’s sleeves, robe, and whiskers making the title of the painting ironic. How can one train a horse in a gale-force wind that swallows up all sound? Zhu Wei links the image to the military life that he had known for ten years. As in other series, he experimented with the horse and groom, rearranging them, juxtaposing them with other figures. In “Race Horse on a Rainy Night, No. 3,” the groom is replaced by a soldier who sits on the ground with a cloth-wrapped bundle of simple victuals next to him (Fig. 7). In the pinched expression on his face we can feel the wind’s cold bite. In another version, “Race Horse on a Rainy Night, No. 5” (1998), the “groom” is a female cadre with her head wrapped in scarf, while the horse’s long tail is blown around her shoulder (Fig. 8). Because Zhu Wei was born in the year of the horse (in the Chinese vernacular, he belongs to horse, is a horse), we cannot discount the possibility that some of these steeds represent the artist himself. This connection is made more likely in “Race Horse on a Rainy Night, No. 5” where the otherwise rarely-seen sprigs of bamboo (zhu 竹) makes a homophonic pun on the artist’s surname. Again, ancient and recent past are deployed to serve the present.

The poet Tao Yuanming, who was cited above as the author of “Peach Blossom Spring Preface,” had a lack of patience for the pomposity of rank and class airs. Tao had the talent to serve in a government position and took a post at his wife’s insistent urging. Less than three months into his service, Tao was told that, to receive a visiting official of higher rank, he had to don a particular robe and belt as a sign of respect. To Tao, the arbitrary distinction was cause for resignation just eighty days after taking office. The event made him realize that rural poverty was preferable to the onerous - if well compensated - protocol of bureaucracy. Zhu Wei can identify with this attitude.

Although not trained as a sculptor, Zhu Wei has been inspired by difficulties of expression in his two-dimensional art to create witty and stylish three-dimensional paintings. (If China can have “silent poetry,” then it should be possible to have “three-dimensional painting.”) Zhu Wei’s monumental bronze figures of Party cadres lean forward about to tip over. Their bulky physicality expresses things that could not be easily conveyed on paper. First created in 1999 at the time of the fiftieth anniversary of the People’s Republic of China, the pair of enormous figures in politically-correct Mao jackets stand at attention with shoulders back, arms at their sides, heads raised. They are rooted to the ground even as they eagerly press forward 往前进. The solidity bespeaks unflinching confidence; the uplifted heads suggest respect for higher authority, while the absence of eyes suggests blind, unthinking obedience.

The surface is the most fragile aspect of the sculptures, and a telling feature. The bronze (or in some cases, painted fiberglass) figures have a dusty encrustation created with sandy mud from the banks of the Yangtze River. They look like freshly-excavated objects: they resemble artifacts to be housed in a museum and studied as historical relics as part of China’s cultural heritage. When a pair was shown in the atrium of the IBM Building in New York, the installers did not understand that the patination was part of the sculpture and scrubbed them clean. The earthen patination situates these sculptures with tomb figurines as examples of the ideal servant in the afterlife - silent, loyal, sycophantic. This cynical interpretation does not credit the reality that the CCP has many hardworking members who actively contribute to society: cadres are a weighty presence and wield great power. Like these immobile bronze behemoths, they are impossible to dismiss.

Zhu Wei’s creation of art is an unusual amalgam of past and present. Visually, his paintings are more easily associated with the professional class of painters in dynastic China and yet the messages of empathy and social criticism are very clearly in the tradition of the educated elite. His awareness of the weight that words and images have carried in both traditional and modern China make his art both fascinating and obscure: messages are deeply imbedded in layered allusions and small details. As he enters his forties, Zhu Wei continues his keen observations of self and society, interested in a broad range of cultural issues. His commentaries are tempered with humor, the edginess is softened with humanity. In the best tradition of Chinese expressive art, Zhu Wei’s paintings record quickly changing social norms, human foibles, and political absurdities, in short, the life that he is witnessing and the history that is unfolding before us.

2. Anonymous, Song dynasty, “Peach Blossoms,” round fan, ink and color on silk, 24.8 x 27 cm. Beijing Palace Museum. From Nie Chongzheng ed., Gugong bowuyuan cang wenwu zhenpin daxi: Jin Tang liang Song huihua: huaniao zoujin (Shanghai: Kexue jishu, 2004), pl. 49. 佚名《碧涛图》

3. Zhu Da (1626-1705), “Lotus and Birds,” ca. 1690, detail, handscroll, ink on satin, 27.3 x 205.1 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of John M. Crawford, Jr. 1988. 朱耷《莲池禽鸟图》

4. Li Song (active ca. 1190-1230), “Flower Basket,” album leaf, ink and colors on silk, 19.1 x 26.5 cm. Beijing Palace Museum. 李嵩《花篮图》

5. Zhu Wei, “Utopia No. 46,” 2005, ink and color on paper, 120 x 120 cm. 朱伟《乌?邦四十六号》

6. Zhao Mengfu (1254-1322), “Training a Horse,” album leaf, ink on paper, 22.7 x 49 cm. Taipei Palace Museum. From National Palace Museum, Hua ma ming pin tezhan tulu (Taipei: National Palace Museum, 1990), p. 33. 赵孟?《调良图》

7. Zhu Wei, “Race Horse on a Rainy Night, No. 3,” ink and color on paper, 1997, 66 x 66 cm, Private Collection. From Zhu Wei’s Diary (Hong Kong, Plum Blossoms Ltd, 2000), p. 214.

8. Zhu Wei, “Race Horse on a Rainy Night, No. 5,” ink and color on paper, 1998, 131 x 131 cm, Private Collection. From Zhu Wei’s Diary (Hong Kong, Plum Blossoms Ltd, 2000), p. 216.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1] Tao Yuanming (365-427), “The Peach Blossom Spring,” James Robert Hightower, translated and annotated, The Poetry of T’ao Ch’ien (Oxford: Clarendon, 1970), pp. 254-256. Kong Shangren (1648), The Peach Blossom Fan, trans. Chen Shih-hsiang and Harold Acton, The Peach Blossom Fan by K’ung Shang-jen (Berkeley and Los Angeles: Univ. of California, 1976).

[2] Zhu Jingxuan (active mid 9th c.), Tang chao minghua lu (early 840s), quoting the appraisal of the painter Wang Zai by Du Fu (712-770).

[3] For example see Plum Blossoms Ltd., Zhu Wei Diary (Hong Kong: Plum Blossoms International, 2000), New Positions in the Brocade Battle, no. 3, p. 79, Box No. 3, p. 274.

[5] Alfreda Murck, "Paintings of Stem Lettuce, Cabbage, and Weeds: Allusions to Tu Fu's Garden", Archives of Asian Art (亚洲艺术档案) 48 (1995), 32-47. 中译: 姜斐德《以莴苣、白菜和野草为画——杜甫菜园的隐喻》《清华美术》, 2005-12.

[6] 《万水千山二号》, Plum Blossoms Ltd., Zhu Wei Diary (Hong Kong: Plum Blossoms International, 2000), p. 47.

[7] Lou Rui tomb wall painting, detail, Northern Qi (550-577), Shanxi Province Cultural Heritage Research Institute. From Bei Qi Dongan wang Lou Rui mu (Beijing: Cultural Relics，2006), color plate 32.　

Alfreda Murck earned a PhD at Princeton University in Chinese art and archaeology with an emphasis on the history of Chinese painting. She worked in the Asian Art Department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, from 1979-1991. Since 1991 she has lived with her husband Christian Murck in Taipei and Beijing. She has published articles on Chinese art and a book on how eleventh century scholars used poetry in painting to express dissent: Poetry and Painting in Song China: The Subtle Art of Dissent (Harvard University Asia Center, 2000). She is a lecturer at the Central Academy of Fine Arts, and is a researcher in the Palace Museum’s Painting and Calligraphy Research Center and a consultant to the Palace Museum’s English web-page.

毫无疑问，朱伟和他的作品已经成为中国当代艺术的一面镜子，原因在于：朱伟以他超凡出众的智慧和敏锐穿透了现实的重重幕帘，并以他充满生命气息和视觉张力的作品，向人们洞开了一扇认识中国当代艺术的大门。我曾写过一篇文章谈到这个现象：朱伟之所以能够在中国当代艺术领域里独领风骚，关键在于他没有像一些短视的艺术家那样，因为各种诱惑而降低其艺术理想，——相反，他坚持把艺术的底线一再往上提升，提升到一个别人难以跨越的高度，尽管他的个性是含蓄而内敛的，但在艺术上却像一个冲锋陷阵的斗士，在水墨画、版画、雕塑的创作上攻城掠地，他的某些代表作已是这个时代的经典，具有不可动摇的历史地位。
作为艺术家，尤其是作为当代中国的艺术家，许多复杂的因素均外化成为背后的布景，人们似乎更欣赏、更着迷于布景中的点缀，用栗宪庭的话说：重要的不是艺术。——不是艺术，是什么呢？许多年前，我和几个批评家讨论中国当代艺术中的一些奇怪现象，都认为，由于外部纷扰与内在贫血，艺术家普遍存在着营养不良，我们觉得，不是艺术家的努力不够或才华不足，要求艺术家将先天性的娘胎里带来缺陷依靠后面的勤劳来弥补，那是不现实的。假如说艺术家有问题，成因在于培育他们的土壤太板结，局限是预设的，所以种种言说都很容易找到根源。然而，凡事都有例外，中国当代艺术中的最优秀的一部分人，似乎天生具备某种自足性，这种自足性的本质是他们的才华和视野，促使他们超越了先验的局限。

几年前的某一天，我和朱伟谈及艺术家的名声和创作的关系，发现他如此低调。我想起了有人对我说的，朱伟是个非常有趣的个案，从他身上可以挖掘出另一种常态以外的东西。我收到过朱伟寄给我的资料，里面的有不少足以骄人记载，然而，我却看到他对那些记载的掩藏。西方人喜欢说性格即命运，其实很多人并不知道该如何对待命运，朱伟从来不炫耀他的业绩，从来不抒发他对未来图景的宏大构想，用他自己的话说，只像一个勤劳的农民，踏踏实实地埋头劳作。

今年盛夏，朱伟来到酷暑中的南京游玩，我们在闲聊的时候萌发了一个念头，把即兴式的闲聊记录下来，如果有些意思的话，便把它做成一本关于人生和艺术的对话集。对话共用了九天，录音整理出来后，基本上表达了双方的想法和立场，决定书名就叫《九日谈》，以表达这些对话的时间概念。朱伟大约是第一次认真并深入地谈论他平时很少谈论的东西，我发觉在他自我压抑的讷言的背后，其实隐藏着乐意抒发胸臆的激情，尽管他仍然是低调的，仍然不肯畅所欲言，但他的语言浮标已经让我捕捉，他的才智和执著不仅体现在他的画面上，根本上说，他具有一种令人惊讶的强大的内在气质。

丹纳论述艺术家的风格特征时这样强调：他们身后都有一个“家族”，换句话说，任何艺术家都避免不了某种必然性制约。我读到国外批评家对朱伟作品的评析，发现一有趣的现象，国外批评家（包括策展人）对中国当代艺术的解读，都有一个相同的立场：他们竭尽一切可能去破译中国艺术家作品中的“政治密码”，即使看似寻常的场景或故事，也不无牵强地联系到政治的根子上。我以为，中国艺术家对政治的兴趣明显被某些西方人士夸大了，甚至到了妖魔化的程度，而从意识形态和心理接受的层面上，双方之间的依赖关系又大大强化了这样的印象。朱伟的作品是这个时期的产物，用丹纳的比喻，是“家族”中的一员，问题在于，同样是某个时期艺术典型，有没有更深层面上的精彩表达呢？就如朱伟的一些代表作，其内容所涉及的东西即不是声讨，也不是调侃和嬉戏，它蕴涵的意义是与“政治波谱”或“泼皮”不一样的。我得补充，艺术家的政治情结并非空穴来风，它的线索很清晰，由于不吐不快的情感因素，艺术家不约而同对某类题材和内容感兴趣，“家族”的潜在作用显而易见。朱伟在处理他的题材时，非常老练地将一种集体无意识转化成他个人的独特视角，把童年梦想和现实境遇巧妙地穿插起来，构筑了一个与生活并行的虚拟实在，里面设计了各种自相矛盾的对立，对立之中又自行化解为无奈的和谐，折射了他精神暗处的隐痛，同时，这种隐痛折射了朱伟对社会和对人性的真切关怀。

朱伟曾反复对我强调所谓“人性”的重要实质，而不是所谓的“政治情结”。关于“人性”问题，在特殊的语境中只能赋予特殊的关注，因为没有纯粹的抽象的“人性”，然而，关注“人性”的出发点，使朱伟比他的同代艺术家更为成熟。朱伟没有具体落脚到“人性”的范畴，只是凝滞在感受层面上，对艺术家而言，恰恰是一个很落实的很有效的动作。我想说明，朱伟眼里的“人性”和知识分子的烦琐解释不一样，他是站在生存的土壤上，以朴实无华的方式当做思考出发点的。人性是普遍的，“政治情结”却是随时间的推移而改变，朱伟以“人性”为基点深化他的主题，无疑是一种高明之举。我观赏过朱伟不少作品，发觉各种各样的题材对他来说仅仅是表达的轮廓，他对人的生活状态的把握才是他作品的内核。不管是他那些外表看来带有“政治”色彩的作品，还是那些个人经验化的作品，从根本上看，一条主线是贯穿始终的。

朱伟以他的水墨画作为主打，又创作了数量不低的雕塑和版画。朱伟的水墨画放在任何场合都可以一眼认出，说明一点，无论从图式到表现性，他都实际地发挥了水墨画表现力的边界效应，可以说，水墨画在他手里，已经不是一个画种，而是得心应手的母语，他将他的母语发挥到了极致。我看到了太多的粗制滥造，和太多的贩卖小聪明的伎俩，那种依靠一点才情博取名利的家伙遍地都是，败坏的风气很容易腐蚀所有在场者。朱伟不屑于“在场”，他几乎依赖于自己的自我放逐来抵御那种侵蚀。朱伟的水墨画已被很多人追捧，但是，我觉得他们之中有不少人尚未真正理解他作品中的涵义。我曾撰写过一篇《从中国画到水墨》的文章，谈到概念的转变其实是思考立场的转变，“中国画”所带来无休止争论在于概念的模糊性。水墨则是媒材，因此，就它的表现范围和表现形式而言，都显得更具弹性。朱伟不看重那种随意性很强的写意画，甚至对那种乱涂乱抹的写意画颇为排斥。美国一位研究中国美术史的学者断言：写意画的兴起终止了中国美术史的发展，姑且不论他是否偏执，毕竟他是依据现象判断的。中国画家经常喜欢说：师古人之心，不师古人之迹。这正好把顺序做了不合理的颠倒。从当代许多艺术家的实践看，“古人之迹”是被常常利用的，“古人之心”却抛到九霄云外。朱伟毫不隐晦自己对传统工笔表现方式的偏爱，不过，在他的作品里，方式完全从属于画面所体现的观念及气氛所需，例如他在技法上——诸如线条、色彩、机理等等，皆与传统方式的延续有关，但由于他的观念是从现实中生长，因此他作品中强烈的当代气息扑面而来。特别是在造型方面，朱伟具有超越古人的独特贡献。我仍得强调他在造型上生活气息，实际上，有很多当代艺术家喜欢利用自我形象的外化，但是在朱伟那里，形象的处理已成为一个时代符号，在若干年以后，他画中的那些形象将是人们认识我们时代的视觉代码。

有一度，国内的批评家热衷于讨论水墨画表现力的边界问题，显然，这是有悖于当代艺术现状的。正如朱伟在水墨画之外，又创作了为数不少的版画和雕塑那样，作品的类型和媒材无关紧要，艺术家在某种创作激情的推动下做出这种或那种作品，是水到渠成的。朱伟的版画承袭了他水墨画中的特征：简洁、单纯和富有视觉张力。另外，由于版画的材料性能，更加显示出造型上的形式感。朱伟的雕塑作品全都散布在国外的不同地区，所以国内的人很少能够欣赏得到。我对朱伟说过，雕塑是他整个创作的相当精彩的部分，我将在我不久后主持的一个建筑、雕塑活动里力邀他参加。我以为，某些国外的收藏机构和收藏家喜欢它们，显示了朱伟作品的国际化意义，也是一种示范的作用。

朱伟被他的生活惯性拉动着一步步迈进，依旧如往常一样低调和朴实，但是我有理由相信，他是与我们这个时代的艺术一起成长并一起登顶的，时至今日，越来越多的人终于看清了他高大的身影，这是时间的胜利，——正如俗话所说的，时间是最终的裁判者。

李小山，1957年生，是20世纪80年代以来艺术界的风云人物，他的许多文章和活动已经成为中国当代艺术史的重要部分。他曾经出版过《中国现代绘画史》、《批评的姿态》、《阵中叫阵》、《我们面对什么》等著作。现为南京艺术学院当代美术研究所所长、教授、南京艺术学院美术馆馆长。

传统照进现实——朱伟访谈录

时间：2011年12月15日

地点：朱伟工作室

人物：朱伟邓馨

邓馨（以下简称“邓”）：近几年，“当代水墨”这个词汇频繁出现在国内美术界的展览或研讨会上，各种探讨的声音不绝于耳。应该说，目前当代水墨作品较为流行，有些美术馆开始收藏当代水墨作品，一些藏家开始将它作为投资定位，然而“当代水墨”未来发展如何，无人知晓。您是怎样看待“当代水墨”现象的？
朱伟（以下简称“朱”）：“当代水墨”以什么样的方式出现都不奇怪，这证明大家对本土绘画样式的回归和认可，看到了它的价值所在，说明我们开始对自己的文化包括传统文化有一点点自信了。

邓：这是中国经济实力增强之后，在文化上努力找回了对本土艺术久违了的自信。改革开放三十年，中国政治、经济、文化环境的改变，影响和推动着中国画的发展。在80年代，正值改革开放初期，在西方文化的影响下，中国传统文化和思想面临西化的时代潮流的冲击，单从这一点来看，它和五四新文化运动具有相似之处；90年代随着改革的深入，艺术创作开始注重与现实生活结合，注重本土文化的回归和确立文化身份；20世纪的第一个十年依然在延续着这样的方向继续发展。中国当代水墨的发展已有三十年，您身为一个水墨画创作者，有什么感受？
朱：近一百年来整个中国的方方面面受到了来自西方包括前苏联在内的资本主义的、社会主义的种种思潮、理论、经济发展模式的影响，一次又一次强烈地冲击了中国社会。混到现在，看得见摸得着的，包括老百姓过的日子，没有一样是我们自己研发的，或祖宗传下来的。五四运动只不过是起了一个小小的头，后面的N次运动都比“五四”来得猛烈、持续，有的居然折腾十年之久。这种自我否定的劲头在任何一个国家都不可能做到如此坚决彻底。历史迟早要追问：这是一个什么样的民族，我们是怎样的一群人。

邓：当代水墨改变了传统水墨程式化的表达方式，呈现出多元化特征：从内容方面看，它力求表现鲜活的社会生活和情感，具有时代性；从技术来看，对笔墨和材料的要求更加包容；从视觉来看，画面承载的信息量更大。从这几个方面来看，多元化对中国画的发展是具有积极的意义的。
朱：当代水墨和传统水墨最大的不同，是它摆脱了宫廷绘画和文人绘画的影响，不再玩小情调、小趣味，不再哼哼唧唧，自作多情，而是变得有血有肉，有哭有笑，知冷知热了。它已经开始参与社会的演变进程，它已经把屁股坐到了你我这边。

邓：当代中国画更加关注社会现实问题，贴近生活，而不再仅仅是文人画家所表达个人的文思与情怀，在您的作品中，既具有现实主义的意味，同时又具有表现主义的色彩，从90年代至今的作品一直有充分的体现。谈谈您的感受。
朱：首先我想说的是，当下中国经过几个断层，发展至今，不可能有文人、文人画，只是有看似像文人或酷似文人画的。80后、90后，可能一不留神出现文人或文人画，但那也要等几十年之后，现在绝对不会有。其次，我们有幸生活在这个剧变和动荡的时代，虽然大家活着都不容易，但是我们都是历史的见证人。作为一个艺术家，准确地记录和描绘时代的演变是责无旁贷的职责和使命。脱离社会现实的画我至今没画过，也画不了。

邓：传统的中国画是讲究修养和功力的，甚至需要“读万卷书，行万里路”的积淀。当代水墨则更加强调画面的视觉效果和张力，可能不再特别讲究线条、墨色的质量以及钤印的方法。我认为，在艺术创新的同时，艺术家仍然需要保有各自的文化底线。当代水墨是否应植根于传统？请谈谈您的观点。
朱：谈不上底线，你说的那些都是作为一个画家最起码的。水墨画根植于哪儿甚至都不重要，首先要保证画出来的是水墨画，其次在画水墨画的时候，您还得要保证对它有信心，不是硬着头皮才行。

邓：在中国绘画史中，影响过您的画家有哪些？
朱：范宽、石涛、八大。

邓：在这个材料丰富的时代，很多画家愿意用材料打造新奇的效果。从90年代至今，您的绘画材料似乎从未改变过，一直坚持使用宣纸、毛笔、中国画颜料，以没骨工笔画的方式创作，将传统文化和当代生活糅合在一起，这种方式相对于水墨画，是否更加适合表现当下的社会生活？在绘画过程中，在技术上是否同样有需要解决的问题？
朱：画水墨画已经成为我生活的一部分，成为一种生活方式，每天睁开眼看到的所有视觉图案、形象，我都在想把它融于水墨画有多大的可能。在画画的过程中要看你有多大的耐性，要看是不是把心思全用在画上。水墨画讲究的是功力，说白了就是要看你是不是三心二意。心思不正，画马上就不伦不类了。

邓：在90年代的中国，“政治波普”是很重要的当代绘画风格，在当时得到了国际市场的认可。您在90年代也创作了不少有影响力的代表作品，其中不乏伟人形象、军人形象。这是否和您出生在军人家庭，以及十余年的军旅生涯的背景相关，是题材上的不谋而合，还是有意为之？
朱：我属于和后八九一道出世的，是仅有的两位以水墨画走向世界的，另一位是魏东，也是画工笔水墨的。大家题材都一样，风格一致，张晓刚、方力钧、王广义，他们签的是汉雅轩；我和魏东签的是万玉堂；杨少斌、岳敏君签的是少励画廊，在同一年。

邓：90年代初期，当代水墨在当代艺术大的格局中，仍然处于边缘的位置。中国画家在全球化语境之下也意识到了文化身份的重要性，如果要确立文化身份，必然离不开本土文化的根基。当时你们那一批最早打入国际市场的画家也遇到这个问题了吧？
朱：遇到了。当时的文化身份更多的是以弱者和难民的面貌出现的，以可怜呼唤同情，并没上升到文化异同这一层次。我记得1994年在国外第一个大型水墨个展上，我在画册上签名的时候，把女士的名字写在前头，男士的写在后头，就为这，还赢来一片赞许。那意思是，这位来自中国大陆的艺术家还懂得最起码的文明，居然还通人性。

邓：或许您是一个为兴趣工作的人。您画画之余，也完成了很多版画和雕塑作品。90年代摇滚乐成了您生活中不可缺少的一部分，以老友崔健原作歌曲《红旗下的蛋》命名的系列作品随之应运而生。在中国的美术圈里，同时从事多种创作活动的艺术家还是比较少的，当然这与个人精力和才能都有关系。
朱：古时候画水墨画的，画画完了，爱在上面多写点。一个是因为人家字写得好，二是肚子里有水，有的时候还洗个澡，抚个琴，谱个曲儿，捅个词儿什么的，那叫雅兴，或曰锦上添花。这些我都不会。但我会古人没见过的，比如电脑、吉他、拍MV、雕塑什么的。这隔几百年后看，一定也算雅兴。
我是先听革命歌曲、后听摇滚乐长大的，我的朋友里至今玩摇滚的要比画画的多。摇滚乐必须反映现实，这就是我喜欢它的原因。我的画面里落款经常都是摇滚乐的歌词。当年革命歌曲影响了我们，我们也影响了革命歌曲，通过大家不懈的努力，终于以摇滚乐取代了革命歌曲。
我的所有作品都是批判现实的现实主义题材，以年轻时候的激情，捎带手把知识分子该做的事情做了。

邓：从革命歌曲到摇滚乐，意味着时代文化的变迁。你的绘画反应了很多社会现实问题，其中不乏批判的、嘲讽的意味，从这一点来看又与中国摇滚乐精神旨趣具有一致性。那么，中国摇滚乐已经有20年的历史，它在发展过程中吸收了传统文化和民俗文化的营养，它具有批判性和反叛精神的同时，又带有理想主义色彩，它揭示了中国现代化进程中呈现出的文化立场、价值观、人性等种种问题。您见证了中国摇滚乐的发展，请谈谈它目前的发展状况？
朱：中国的摇滚乐直接影响了我几十年来的创作，它发展到现在，就像我在他们的研讨会上讲到的，反叛精神还在，理想色彩没了。越来越国际化了，也就是说，越来越不像中国的摇滚乐了。

邓：自从结束了万玉堂画廊的合约后，您的绘画创作暂且处于停滞或者休息的状态，什么时候开始新的创作？
朱：和万玉堂的合作了14年，全球独家代理，我从26岁一直画到41岁，圆满地完成合同，同时也度过了一段快乐的创作时光。到目前为止，快有四五年没怎么画画了，2012年正式开始恢复画画。因为后面有几个大的展览要办，合同也签了。

邓：延续以往的系列还是有新的创作想法？
朱：创作思路不变，技法上也不准备变。

朱伟之所以著名，在于他经常使用源自中国传统绘画的题材来表现政治和社会的主题。他把古代人物和毫无疑义的现代人物的形象进行融合，以反映自改革开放伊始的八十年代初以来的中国社会与生活。朱伟也使用传统的媒介，但他独辟蹊径而自成一体。朱伟的作品和文革有着清晰的联系，同时，他也糅和了帝制中国的艺术形式，以此来叙述发生在最近的故事，笔调有种温和的讽刺意味。身着中山装的干部与宋元的题材一同粉墨登场，似乎它们同为久远历史的一部分。朱伟的艺术反映了翻天覆地变化中的文化与社会，于是我们要问：在中国文化中，什么是持久不变的？如何理解1949年以来的历史？

朱伟最近的作品系列名为《开春图》，这一系列显示了他新的创作方向。《开春图三号》（图1）画的是飘浮在花叶中处于失重状态的人，背景留白。人物似乎面无表情，但又各自有不同意蕴，有的显得阴郁、无动于衷，有的忧伤，有的惊诧，有的则志得意满。他们的手插在衣兜里或藏在袖子里，不禁让人想到“袖手旁观”这个成语。人物形体大小各异，但无定规，不足以说明前后次序或空间感。他们头发炸开，似乎他们正在往下坠落，或者说像微风中随风飘荡的种子，更像是没有拴线的气球。他们彼此没有关联，既不互相瞧着，也不望向我们。画的左下角，一束桃花正灼灼开放，比所有人都大，支撑住了整个画面。此桃花来自南宋（1127-1278）一位匿名画家的小团扇画，然而在朱伟笔下变得更为硕大，并且是画在纸上而不是绢上（图2）。画面左右边界处均有巨大的印章，如藏家收藏章一般，半钤在画上半消失于绫子边缘。其中的一个印章是“www”，一个未完成的网址；在画面的大部分，我们可以看到“朱伟”二字，被垂直地切去了一半。此外，画面上还点缀着其它较小的图章，如“十有八九”、“朱伟印鉴”、“www.zhuweiartden.com”等。画面上有小的画家签名，字体略近魏碑或金农的漆书。

这个系列令人想起这是春天，漂浮的人们或许正坠入爱河。繁盛绽放的桃花是传统绘画的题材，让人产生烂漫的遐想。诗人陶渊明（365-427）在《桃花源记》中，描写了远离战乱世界的遥远山谷桃花源，这使得“桃花”闻名遐尔。而接下来的数个世纪，“桃花”逐渐与感官上的愉悦联系起来，比如在十七世纪广为流传的戏剧《桃花扇》里[1]。在朱伟的《开春图一号》里，桃花依旧传达出浪漫意味，可个人的体验却大相迥异。漂浮着的一些人心满意足；脱离了大地的人们只能去思考爱，只能去琢磨回忆与渴望。《开春图》这个题目可能会让一些中国人联想到著名歌手董文华的歌曲《1992年，又是一个春天》，这首歌写于邓小平南巡，重新推进改革开放之后。《开春图》这个系列还在延续中，只有在其完成时，我们才能明了这些个人的故事将如何终结。

如朱伟近年来的许多作品一样，《开春图》呈现出古色古香的面貌，对画作表面的水洗以及进一步处理使颜色褪变得更为微妙。他是如何做出这极具个人特色的效果的？在绘画生涯早期，朱伟就选择了以毛笔、墨、纸张等传统媒材来创作，然而，他用非传统的方式使用它们。安徽订制的桑树皮纸必须质地牢固有弹性，经得起反复浸润，因为纸张必须刷上棕黄色颜料来做旧。刷的时候纸张下面垫上有栅格的木板或糙面的地毯，当颜料在凹处沉淀凝结时，纸上便现出有趣的图案。纸张干燥过程中，朱伟一直在旁守候，不时吸掉或洗掉不想要的颜料。他审慎考虑所有最能表达他想法的元素，从多达数倍的草稿图中提炼出构思。主要的人物角色都有粉本，用粉本的好处是，角色能被挪动、复制（人物通常成对出现）、在不同的背景中组合。主要元素到位后，线条画需用传统毛笔渲染。在如今这个时代，写出中国字的是钢笔、铅笔和电脑，柔软的毛笔不再是日常生活必需品，而演化为一种美学活动。渲染线条画时，朱伟的笔触必须灵动轻柔，这样，事先做旧的图画就同时具备了鲜活与灰暗的质地。在最后完成眼睛和头发之前，他把画纸放到水龙头下冲洗，揉搓画作的某些部位。这一步骤极需细心、经验和一些勇气，因为不止一次纸张曾被揉碎，整张画于是便被毁损。尽管存在风险，这一步还是值得的，原因就是那及其迷人的最终效果：古董般斑驳皲裂的表面，别具一格的皴纹和深度。出于同样的原因，他创作的步调也相当缓慢，令人回想起唐代诗人杜甫的诗句：“十日画一松，五日画一石”[2]。这句诗同样也能用于朱伟对材料和构图的准备。

朱伟的书法与上文中提到的印章也加强了其画作同中国古代绘画之间的联系。他在画作上的落款和字体非常独特，灵感来源于公元前三世纪到公元前一世纪的隶书。白色的款识写在竖直黑底色块上，形成强烈的构图效果，类似于考古挖掘出来的木牍或竹简。另外一些时候，竖直的字行犹如漂浮半空的宣传标语，正如朱伟年少时从集会人群头顶的气球垂下的标语一样。[3]

在独特环境中成长与生活的经历塑造了朱伟的艺术。他出身于军人家庭，在躁动的青年时代，他极少听从父母的命令。1982年，十六岁的朱伟应募加入中国人民解放军。那时军队的地位大幅下降。在伟大的无产阶级文化大革命期间，因为在1967-1968年间阻止中国陷入全面内战，中国人民解放军的地位极其崇高。作为中央政府信任的唯一一个官方机构，中国人民解放军收拾了红卫兵留下的烂摊子，恢复了原有秩序。从1968年夏开始，毛泽东的妻子江青成为中国人民解放军文化掌权者，其后中国人民解放军开始指挥文化大革命。1976年江青和四人帮（这些人物以后将出现在他的作品中）被捕，1981年被宣判有罪，自此以后，军队的辉煌声誉便失去光泽。当政府政策出现了重大转向后，改革开放进一步削弱了军队的重要性。由于父亲是一名军人，朱伟对这一转变有深刻认知，然而，对爱好艺术的朱伟而言，应征入伍总胜于步母亲的后尘进入医药界。

服役三年之后，朱伟被位于北京海淀区的解放军艺术学院招收入学，从这个时刻开始，他对所有视觉事物的热情将接受检验。学校训练既严苛又乏味。其中一项训练是用尖端蘸上墨水的纸卷画直线和圆圈，手臂必须悬浮在纸上方，手肘稍稍碰一下桌面就有可能画出不匀称的线条。下笔稍重，空心的纸卷就可能被压扁或压弯。用软绵绵的纸管接连画上数个小时的直线和圆圈，要不让年轻人分心非常艰难，可一旦坚持下来，就会掌握住规则，最终收获的将是精细灵动的笔触、耐心、以及自豪感。对官方文学和政治思想的学习是造就朱伟艺术的另一条线：毛泽东（1893-1976）诗词，朗读宣传官方口号如“文艺为人民服务”、“古为今用”、“高举红旗”、“实现四个现代化”。同时，军队里的严厉氛围却引起了白日梦，创造一个幻想世界。当朱伟刚刚开始作画时，数十年与军队的关联使他笔下常常出现军人和官员的形象，时常出现的还有那些令人头昏脑胀的沉闷会议。1989年，朱伟从解放军艺术学院毕业，那年他被指派画他并不所喜好的东西，于是，他转向了第二个将对他的艺术具有重大影响的领域——电影。

1990年，朱伟被北京电影学院录取，数以百计的经典影片伴随了他三年的学习生涯。1992年末，预计将完成学业去谋生，朱伟开始考虑将绘画作为终生职业。事实上他不得不承认，绘画是他最擅长的语言，而拍电影给他提供了独特的视角。许多朱伟画作的取景让人联想起电影摄影或一个封闭的全屏幕；有些构图则与故事板类似，或像是电影场景。更为重要的是，电影提供了朱伟把绘画用作叙述的方法。他把绘画当成寓言和故事来讲述，和电影中的连续场景或连续数帧画面类似。在他的任何绘画系列里，前后都有关联，不论每张画多么自成一体，作为一个系列它们还是会透露出更多信息。不同于传统的故事手卷抑或是册页，朱伟的系列作品在状态上更接近于电影剪辑。

流行文化则带来了更多当代气息。朱伟的画作中出现了从小说、戏剧、音乐中汲取的素材，摇滚乐的震撼使他着迷。崔健是中国新音乐中不可或缺的关键人物之一，他写的歌词成为朱伟的文本，使他获得图像与款识的灵感。看到《红旗下的蛋》和《赵姐的故事》系列中他一贯的栅格图案配上大胆的墨点，人们确乎能感受到摇滚乐的持续冲击。

当朱伟面对中国过去丰饶的视觉艺术时，他倾心的是来自宫廷画院的艺术，尤其宋代理想的写实主义绘画。朱伟善用宫廷书画的传统题材，但是，这不表明他能够在宫廷画院里谋得一席之地。帝制中国的宫廷画家不仅具备技艺上的能力，还得拥有某种职务，朝廷要什么就得画什么。宋徽宗（1100-1125年在位）曾亲自严格挑选任命每一位画家。就技法和想象力而言，朱伟当然能毫不费力地通过甄选，困难之处在于遵照朝廷要求的风格做画。诚如一位十二世纪中叶的邓椿所述：

盖一时所尚，专以形似，苟有自得，不免放逸，则谓不合法度，或无师承。[4]

朱伟使用画院画家的工笔技法作画，这并不能成为怀疑他无法突破传统束缚的理由，实际上他的风格仅仅属于他自己。朱伟有才华，受过良好训练，但也非常有自己的想法。在宋徽宗的父亲神宗（1068-1085年在位）统治期间，画院画家的甄选方式是举荐而非考取，神宗的父亲对此则更为宽松。神宗登基后，著名画家崔白（活跃于11世纪后半叶）于熙宁年间（1068-1077）应召进入画院。据传记记载，崔白画艺超群，却生性疏阔，乃至无法完成他在画院的职责。无论从环境还是个性上来看，朱伟都多少有些崔白的独立个性。

尽管宋朝画院绘画对朱伟有强烈影响，他的趣味并不拘泥于此。他将范宽那幅创作于公元十一世纪的经典《溪山行旅图》（手卷，台北故宫博物院藏）改成了尺寸惊人的新作。他看重十二、三世纪的宫廷画作，因为它们有细密的笔法和富丽的色彩（图3），譬如宫廷画家马远的《水图》（手卷，北京故宫博物院藏，马远活跃于1190~1230年）和李嵩（活跃于1190~1230年）的《花篮图》。朱伟尤其欣赏明末清初的个人主义者朱耷（八大山人，1626-1705）和石涛（1642-1707），这两人均为明皇室的后裔。二人奇僻的画风勾勒出他们长达一生的挣扎——那是在满洲统治下不断确认自我、寻求认同的挣扎。清朝前期，社会动荡，明朝遗老遗少仍处在与满清的斗争中，八大山人和石涛不得不隐藏他们的皇族血统，甚至连交友都受监视。八大笔下的鸟和鱼总显示出对周遭环境的敏锐知觉。他的鸟儿紧张地注视彼此，警觉地隐藏起他们的动机（图4）。这种谨小慎微让人想起朱伟笔下的人物，那些人物不是用身体语言，而是他们的眼睛暴露出了他们的感情。尽管这些人中的一些看起来踌躇满志，或是顺从忍耐，有些人则警觉而机敏，但是，其它人还是得听天由命、愁眉苦脸、怨气冲冲。他们似乎都在社会这个地雷阵里踽踽前行，生怕走错一步。《孩子走钢丝》这一系列作品很容易将我们带回到阶级斗争之后的九十年代，这些孩子们面上挂着习惯了被莫名惩罚时才有的神情，他们正全神贯注于找到钢丝上的平衡，竭尽全力用尽善尽美的表演来取悦于人。

著名的“乌托邦”系列刻画了那些顶着大脑袋的强健身躯参加官方会议的情景。这一系列有五十幅左右，会议中党员们百无聊赖，但仍貌似恭敬地听着，还时不时用粗短的钢笔忠诚地记录着什么。因为朱伟曾多次忍受这样的会议，所以他的笔触是具有同情心的——他知道要挣扎着保持注意力到底是什么含义。小细节也很有意思：一位人大代表穿了个耳钉，说明他的朋克倾向；在生机勃勃的芭蕉叶上有一个巨大的虫蚀洞，表明它已经渡过了青春期。巨大的红色旗帜和繁花似锦的讲台摆设是这种正式群众聚会场合不可避免的（图5），从李嵩册页里来的花篮则很好地担任了现代宫廷的象征。台上的演讲正宣扬着党的新路线，而台下那些正在倾听着的苍老空虚的面容却与鲜活的花朵并置在一起，形成一个绝佳的对照。

色彩丰富的现实主义与隐蔽的针砭批判在二十世纪已经不是什么新鲜事。中国绘画史上，尽管文人墨客更爱用笔法来暗示他们的不满，然而鲜明的色彩也被采纳于表达沉默的抗议，在植物花草的绘画中尤为如此[5]。在这里，“现实主义”不代表同现实世界保持一致，而是同心理现实保持一致。我们可以在禅宗和文人的单色水墨作品中发现这个事实。

将古代和现代元素融合起来，通常导致的结果是幽默与讽刺。如1994年的《万水千山二号》，在视觉形象上援引了十二世纪的手卷《韩熙载夜宴图》摹本（北京故宫博物院藏，原本为公元十世纪的顾闳中所作）。《夜宴图》据说是顾闳中奉命夜至素有放逸之名的大臣韩熙载家，窥视其夜宴的情景而画的。在这幅宋代摹本中，女性提供了从音乐舞蹈到性挑逗的全套娱乐服务。而在朱伟这幅作品的背景中，人们可以看到与《夜宴图》构图相似的一对人物：一个男人正搂着一个女孩的肩，怂恿她同他去幽会。朱伟的嘲讽（和不恭）来自于这个作品系列的名字——《万水千山》，意指长征。[6]

朱伟接触的另一个传统资源是对马的认知。在中国帝制时期的文学与绘画中，马常常被用来隐喻人在各方面的才华。高贵的种马、慵懒的乘骑、被奴役的战马、饥饿的驽马，无一不出现在文学寓言和绘画里。马的形象是在紧张激烈的狩猎中追随骑手，与骑手合二为一，享受或是忍受它们既定的命运。在著名的北齐东安王娄睿（550-575）的墓室壁画中，马的智慧与洞察力被捕捉得很传神。画中的女仪卫们正列队骑行，而那几匹战马却是人们注意力的中心，它们正白眼斜视或直视着墙外的我们[7]。壁画作者似乎想告诉我们，这些含辛茹苦的马匹完全明了它们自己所代表的寓意。
　
为何马匹会在朱伟的画作中游荡？前景中鲜明的人物头像常常使马匹藏于暗处，它们似乎有更个人化的涵义。伟大的文学家、画家、书法家赵孟俯笔下的马匹和马夫被朱伟借用过数次。赵的《调良图》（图6）中，马夫按照传统习惯画到了马头的右方，然而画面中却掀起了一阵并非传统的强风，吹得马尾马鬃、马夫的衣袖长袍虬髯，无一不在风中翻飞，结果是使这幅画的名称变得极具讽刺意味。人怎么可能在吞噬一切声响的狂风中驯马？朱伟把这个画面同他熟谙的数十年军旅生涯联系起来，在一些系列作品中，他实验性地将马匹和马夫重新构图，并加入了新面孔。《图夜跑马图三号》里，马夫被一名士兵代替，士兵坐在地上，身旁放着一布包裹的粮食（图7）。从士兵紧锁的愁眉中，我们感受到了寒风的凛冽。在另一幅作品《雨夜跑马图五号》（1998）中，“马夫”又变成了个女干部，围巾包住她的头，长长的马尾扫着她的肩（图8）。朱伟在马年出生（按中国属相算，朱伟属马），我们不能排除这些战马中的几匹有代表艺术家本人的可能性。在《雨夜跑马图五号》中这种联系被加强了，画面里罕见地出现竹叶，而中文中的“竹”与艺术家的姓同音，这是再一次的“古为今用”。

上文中提到的《桃花源诗并记》的作者，诗人陶渊明，是个难以忍受等级森严的氛围的人。陶渊明有做官的天分，在妻子的督促下，他接受了官府的任命。上任后不到三个月，一次有人告诉陶渊明，某大官要来视察，为了迎接这名大官，陶渊明应当束带迎之，以示尊敬。这种粗暴的尊卑之分导致陶渊明上任仅八十天后遂授印去职。这次事件让他意识到，俭朴的田园生活胜过官僚制度下——即使有所补偿——的繁文缛节。朱伟的态度也是如此。

虽然没有经过雕塑训练，朱伟还是从他在二维艺术中遭遇的困难获得灵感，创作出诙谐而极具个人特色的三维绘画。（如果中国有“沉默的诗歌”，那么也有可能存在“三维绘画”。）朱伟经典的铜雕塑作品塑造了向前倾斜站立、几近跌倒的党干部。它们那巨大的实体感表达了不容易在纸上表达的东西。第一尊雕塑创作于中国人民共和国成立五十周年的1999年，两个庞大的人身着政治正确的中山装，站姿毕恭毕敬，双肩收紧，双臂贴于身侧，仰着头。他们紧紧扎根于地面，却表达出强烈的向前进的欲望。他们的坚固性表明了无所畏惧的坚强信心；仰起的脑袋暗示着对更高权威的尊敬，而他们眼睛的缺失则暗示着盲目和愚忠。

雕塑的表面是其最脆弱的部分，也是极具特点的部分。铜（在另一版本中为着色的玻璃钢）像表面有一层灰土覆盖物，那是从扬子江岸取来的沙土。它们使得雕塑看上去似乎刚出土：像是作为中国文化遗产一部分被陈列在博物馆里作为历史遗迹来研究的史前古物。雕塑在纽约IBM大厦中庭安装时，安装者不知道这些尘土锈迹是雕塑的一部分，结果把雕塑擦洗得干干净净。尘土锈迹使雕塑具有墓葬雕像的意味。墓葬雕像象征着来世里理想的奴仆——沉默、忠诚、阿谀。对愤世嫉俗的阐释者而言，说中国共产党有许多成员不辞劳苦地积极投身于社会是难以置信的。干部是重量级的群体，手握巨大权力。像这些岿然不动的铜制庞然大物一样，他们不容忽视。

朱伟的艺术创作是过去与现在相融合的非凡合金。视觉上，他的画很容易让人联想到中国帝制时期的职业画家，然而，他的画所透露的社会精英秉承的移情与社会批判的信息也非常清晰。他意识到传统中国和现代中国承载的文字和图像的力量，这让他的艺术既令人着迷又隐密晦涩：讯息被深深地隐藏在多层暗示和微妙的细节里。步入不惑之年，朱伟仍继续他对自我、对社会的敏锐观察。他对广泛的文化问题怀有兴趣，幽默缓和了他的阐释，人性软化了他的锐利。在中国最好的写意传统中，朱伟的绘画记录了正在迅速转变的社会规范、人性的弱点、政治的荒谬，简而言之，他记录了他正在见证的生活，和正在我们面前展开的历史。

2. 佚名，宋代，《桃花图》，团扇，水墨设色绢本，24.8 x 2厘米，北京故宫博物院藏。摘自《故宫博物院藏文物珍品大系：晋唐两宋绘画·花鸟走兽》（上海科学技术出版社2004年出版），聂崇正编纂，pl. 49，佚名《碧涛图》

3. 朱耷（1626-1705），《莲池禽鸟图》，1690年，详情，卷轴，水墨缎本，27.3 x 205.1厘米。大都会艺术博物馆藏，纽约，小John M. Crawford于1988年遗产捐赠。

4. 李嵩（活跃于公元1190-1230年），《花篮图》，册页，水墨设色绢本，19.1 x 26.5厘米。北京故宫博物院藏。

5. 朱伟，《乌托邦五十号》，2005年，水墨设色纸本，120 x 103厘米

6. 赵孟俯（1254-1322），《调良图》，册页，水墨纸本，22.7 x 49厘米。台北故宫博物院藏。摘自国立故宫博物院《画马名品特展图录》（台北：国立故宫博物院1990年出版），p. 33。

7. 朱伟，《雨夜跑马图三号》，水墨设色纸本，1997年，66 x 66厘米，私人收藏。摘自《朱伟日记》（香港：Plum Blossoms有限公司2000年出版），p. 214。

8. 朱伟，《雨夜跑马图五号》，水墨设色纸本，1998年，131 x 131厘米，私人收藏。摘自《朱伟日记》（香港：Plum Blossoms有限公司2000年出版），p. 216。

　
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[1] 陶渊明（365-427），《桃花源记》，James Robert Hightower翻译成英文并注释，选自《陶潜诗作》（The Poetry of T’ao Ch’ien）（牛津：Clarendon出版，1970），pp. 254-256。孔尚任（1648-1718），《桃花扇》，Chen Shih-hsiang与Harold Acton翻译成英文，选自《孔尚任的桃花扇》（The Peach Blossom Fan by K’ung Shang-jen）（伯克利与洛杉矶：加利福尼亚大学出版，1976）。

[2] 参考朱景玄（约公元9世纪中期）《唐朝名画录》（9世纪40年代前期）妙品上八人, 杜甫对王宰的评价：“十日画一松，五日画一石”.

[3] 例如万玉堂有限公司出版的《朱伟日记》（香港：万玉堂国际公司出版，2000），新编花营锦阵三号，p. 79，盒子三号，p. 274。

[4] 邓椿《画继》卷十，(收入《画史丛书》第一册，255－356页), 273页。

[5] Alfreda Murck, "Paintings of Stem Lettuce, Cabbage, and Weeds: Allusions to Tu Fu's Garden", Archives of Asian Art (亚洲艺术档案) 48 (1995), 32-47. 中译: 姜斐德《以莴苣、白菜和野草为画——杜甫菜园的隐喻》《清华美术》, 2005-12.

[6] 《万水千山二号》, Plum Blossoms Ltd., Zhu Wei Diary (Hong Kong: Plum Blossoms International, 2000), 47页.

[7] Lou Rui tomb wall painting, detail, Northern Qi (550-577), Shanxi Province Cultural Heritage Research Institute.《北齐东安王娄睿墓》 (北京：文物出版社，2006), 32彩色图.

姜斐德，普林斯顿大学中国艺术与美学博士，专攻中国绘画史。1979-1991年，任职于纽约大都会艺术博物馆亚洲艺术部，1991年后与丈夫Christian Murck迁居至台北和北京。曾多次发表有关中国艺术的文章，并著述关于十一世纪文人在绘画中以诗表达怨意的书籍《宋代绘画与诗歌：委婉的抱怨方式》（哈佛大学出版社2000年出版）。目前任中央美术学院主讲教师，故宫博物院古代书画研究中心研究员，以及故宫博物院资料信息中心顾问。