On Symbolism, Style and a Light Ink Sketch
Let’s play a little game again: Let’s imagine there is a competition with 3 cats at the start. The “best” cat should be chosen. Which would get your vote: 1, 2, or 3?
In times of Instagram, Facebook & Co., cats have become a popular topic. Here, though, I want to ask how our expectations shape the way we look at cats in Chinese painting.
If we look at the three contenders for the cat Olympics, we have a problem. Pictures #1 and #2 offer an immediate appeal: softness, charm, a recognizable personality. Picture #3, a cat by Zhu Da, also known as Bada Shanren, asks something different of us.[1] For me, the contrast makes this a useful little competition. What exactly are we rewarding when we choose the “best” cat?
Let’s look at this cat #1 closer: it can do something and it has something to show.
She can curl up into a ball, she can perk up her little ears cheekily, she can look sweet, and if you don’t have a cat hair allergy and generally like cats, you want to lift her onto your lap and stroke her velvety fur.
Let’s look at Zhu Da’s cat, #3, again:
She has nothing and doesn’t do anything.
How do we solve this dilemma? What am I doing wrong?
Like in Asian concepts in the West too, especially in poetry, there is the concept of original innocence or poetry in being itself.
By original innocence, I mean an unbiased, direct approach: allowing the painted subject to be itself before deciding whether it is beautiful, lifelike or appealing. This is the kind of attention I want to bring to Zhu Da’s cat.
If we come across a “difficult picture” like this, it is of course helpful to find out: the background of the picture (such as year, early-late work, and further information…). Then an analysis of the content, painterly expression, and meaning (i.e. philosophical background – statement of the picture….). But that wouldn’t help much in this case. Zhu Da’s cat basically has nothing and can’t do anything.
Chairness
Looking at the phenomenon from a Western philosophical perspective, we might use the word “chairness” as an analogy. What makes a chair a chair after we have left out everything superfluous? With Zhu Da’s cat, I am asking a similar question: how little is needed for us to recognize “the very cat”?
Zhu Da’s cat gives little away. She is surrounded by emptiness, nothing makes her particularly likable or dislikeable. From a technical point of view, too, Zhu Da completely dispenses with the superfluous. These are not calligraphically “beautiful strokes”, they even appear clumsy, unaffected. We only see a cat. So what did I do wrong when viewing: I focused on what was presented and not on what was left out and more importantly why it was left out.
Zhu Da gives me little to cling to: no luxuriant fur, no conspicuously playful gesture, no setting that tells a story. Is the cat resting indoors or enjoying the last warmth of the sun? The painting does not say. Its markings are spare, its expression difficult to read. For me, it neither invites petting nor provokes dislike. It is “just a cat”.
wu wei
But one thing distinguishes this cat and brings me to the painting’s meaning. What is the cat doing? I read her stillness through wu wei 無為.[2] This is my interpretation of the picture, rather than a claim about the painter’s intention. As I stop asking the cat to perform for me, looking itself becomes less strained.
Cats and contemplative figures also appear in Chan and Zen painting. The two images below approach that world differently: a figure identified as Huike in contemplation, and Sengai’s depiction of the disturbing kōan of Nanchuan’s cat.[3][4]
For a reading of the second image, see Norman Fischer’s commentary on Nanchuan’s cat.
And finally, I would like to show a cat that I painted many years ago. She would definitely end up in 4th place 😊
Footnotes
[1] Bada Shanren (八大山人, 1626–1705), born Zhu Da (朱耷), was a Chinese painter and calligrapher descended from the Ming imperial family. See the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s account of his life and painting. ↩
[2] Wu wei (無為), often translated as non-action or effortless action, does not simply mean doing nothing. In Daoist thought it can describe action free from forcing and self-conscious striving. See the discussion in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy’s entry on Laozi. ↩
[3] Huike in Contemplation, reproduced here under the attribution to Liang Kai (梁楷), a painter of the Southern Song period. The reproduction identifies the figure as the second patriarch of Chinese Chan. ↩
[4] Sengai Gibon, depiction of Nanchuan’s Cat, case 14 of the Mumonkan. The painting shows the master holding a cat before two monks. See the Idemitsu Museum of Arts research publication, colour plate 5. ↩
This article is based on the lecture Taoism in Chinese Painting that the author gave in 2019 for the ö.g.c.f.
Related articles: Wu Wei in Chinese Painting I Balance in Chinese Painting I Emptiness and the Meaning of White
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