Vincent Zhao, which has occasionally spilled over on this side. (Ooops, there he is.) Here, the yang me has made soup, revisited China, and observed the cycles of the seasons for two years...and they are coming around again. What new can I say? The kolea (about whom I am obsessed as much as Vincent) are beginning to plump up and become more vivid as they prepare for their Alaskan summer; like me, thinking about packing for another visit to China in a few weeks. (Did I just say I am becoming plump and vivid?)
And the Christmas cactus are blooming again.
W.S. Merwin, "A Message to Po Chu-i" (the Tang Dynasty poet Bo or Bai Juyi in Pinyin) in the New Yorker recently. Merwin, another native East Coaster, lives in Hawaii, something I didn't know until just now. I had a previous poem of his, "A Letter to Su T'ung Po" (aka Su Dongpo or Su Shi --I'd use a different name too, he's not Japanese--of the so appropriately named Song Dynasty) tucked in my anthology of Chinese poetry at the page where his original reference appears. Merwin seems to find poetic continuity in the old sages.
So not strange that I find inspiration for my own brush painting attempts (legitimately and properly copied in the honorable Chinese fashion) from the Ming Dynasty.
My teacher liked this one, even better than the Ming original, which however features poetic calligraphy, something I am not, nor will ever be, ready to do. Or she was just being polite, but she did say I should put my name on it, perhaps so as not to confuse it with the Shen Jhou original which hangs in the Palace Museum in Beijing. Maybe in May, I will take it with me and show them how it ought to be done! Since Chinese paintings and poems just go together, I could write "A Letter to Su T'ung Po" on it.
My Journey to the WestI suppose I was inspired to do this not only by my rapidly firming-up trip plans, but by views from my lanai, where I sometimes feel I am looking at a living brush painting. Click on this image and you'll see what I mean:
Almost like a King Hu Movie Set
But nothing stays the same...the sky clears, making way for some other kind of inspiration. I'll find out what it is tomorrow.
In the meantime, if you didn't go read those poems linked above, do it now. They're beautiful.
And despite the blog date of March 17, St. Patrick's Day, it is still March 16 by my clock. I think a web-based Daylight Saving Time joke has been played on me.