Art of Nature, Nature of Art

Another Yin-Yang bit of wholeness came into my life this week: a day-long hike on nearby Jinyun Mountain and an exhibit of Western late-Romantic art at the Chongqing Art Museum.

Jinyun Mountain: Art of Nature

My minority pre-graduate students are amazing. They stem from many of the 50-some minority groups in China (with well known examples such as Tibetans and Inner Mongolians and Uighur peoples) and from many provincial universities. They are relatively mature, 25-30 years of age, and have been competitively selected to go on to graduate school, with Southwest University hosting a special one-year preparatory program. Their spoken and written English is generally excellent. If I merely suggest something in class, a group shows up at my office door. A few examples:

• Maybe a group of us should have dinner some night? Four students show up at 5 p.m. 
•  Friday class was canceled for field trip. Oh, let's have class at 9 a.m. Saturday!
• Maybe a group of us should hike Jinyun Mountain? Eleven students organize a hiking group and tell me to meet them at the Confucius statue at 8 a.m. Sunday.

 Jinyun is a prominent ridge (several thousand feet high) between Southwest University in Beibei and the big city of Chongqing. After a short bus ride, we were ready to begin the ascent on a well-developed trail:

All was well as we made our way through a Taoist monastery and to the first peak. Some hikers were beginning to lag behind, but this was a pleasant place to wait for them and enjoy our lunch:

Some of the students had hiked Jinyun before, and thought they knew the way to a second peak. We knew we were nearing a peasant farmstead when we saw the proverbial chickens crossing the road:

One student asked the peasant woman about the way, several other students joined the discussion, and I realized that the students and the old woman had trouble communicating for she spoke only a local dialect. After a mile or so of the trail petering out and then leading to another farmstead, I realized that it wasn't just "trouble" communicating, it was a near total lack thereof. Here we are, a mile later, on a trail leading to a second peasant's back door:

Here, thanks to a young schoolboy who knew Mandarin and could translate between his Grandpa and the students, we set off on a path that, in a few miles, would put us back on the main route. Nice view from the front of the house, too:

It was a pleasant route (easy enough for the guy with comfortable hiking shoes to say). Surprised by how alone we were once off the beaten path. Leo fills his bottle and Ava washes the orange from her hands at a spring (love how bamboo is the universal material):

Fiddleheads (young unfurling ferns--good to eat, too):

And various wildflowers I feel no pressure to key out and identify (though the first is like a Sego Lilly):

The path eventually led to a road, and then to a small village where a way back was clearly marked. With six or so kilometers yet to go, old Professor EcoRover was a bit prideful of feeling he could still walk twice that far while his students were on their last legs:

Leaving the village, though, we came to a small park. The students took to the swings like happy children and the short break revived their spirits as they took turns on the swings:

As we approached another monastery that marked an exit:

It was time again for a lunch break. WangChao ("Leo") and I taught the group "You Are My Sunshine," and soon everyone was smiling and singing along, much to the amusement of neighboring groups. One last group pic:

Then out the gate:

A short bus ride back to Beibei, and yummy fish hotpot:

Chongqing Museum Exhibit: Nature of Art

After modeling for his art class, Professor Funianping kindly invited me to a late-Romantic exhibit that he had brought together. I never expected to see great Western art in China, but there were some wonderful pieces and the flow of the exhibit marked an important episode in art history.

I like the professor's expressive interpretive tour--although in Mandarin, I could feel what he believed was important about the art:

Chierici's "Joy" and "Grief" (1871) show us that the emotions of a small boy are no different from the greatest emotions that an adult may feel over the acquisition of a treasure or the loss of a beloved:

Barries' "Nature Unveiling Herself to Science" (1899) expresses the rational wooing and conquest of female nature as described by Einstein or Descartes or depicted by the Nobel Prize for physics:

Pissarro's "On the Banks of the Seine in Paris" (c. 1875) and Dupre's "The Gleaner" (c. 1900; I think it was mislabeled in English) depict the beauty and dignity of all physical labor:

Finally, my favorite of the exhibit--Rodin's "Eternal Spring" (c. 1900) simply leaves me speechless, that wonderful moment when love and lust are one:

All too soon, it seemed, we assembled in front of the museum for a group pic before our trip through the tunnel under Jinyun Mountain, and back to Beibei:

EcoRover, Art Model

Another busy week including sitting as a model for art students, joining the students for an international exhibit in Chongqing, archery with the Professor of Wushu (Baoqiang Chen), dinners and after-dinner walks with students. I especially like it when the students show up in a small group at the end of office hours (c. 5:30 p.m.) to take me out for some new dining experience.

I'm still finding lovely new contemplative spots on campus, such as this pond with walkway:

And, above it, the gazebo (凉亭): 

As an experience that both feeds the ego and induces a mild identity crisis, I sat as a model for an art class. It was 2-hour morning + 2-hour afternoon experience, thank goodness for strong tea and a student's mix-tape of American folk songs to keep me awake after a sumptuous lunch. "Jerry" on the right is a student from my graduate class and "Sugar" on the left is the graduate assistant in charge of the art class:

The studio was crowded with a dozen students plus a huge, jumbled assortment of paintings. Some of various town scenes:

And others that were interesting portraits. The first one here is by a Uighur student depicting the close ties of people in his homeland:

The second is by Professor Fu Nianping:

In preparing for my new modeling career, I drew inspiration from some of the find statuary on campus. Alas, I don't cut quite the figure of these stalwarts:

Here are some of the students' interpretations of EcoRover, in no particular order:

 Still hoping for the promised hike on nearby Jinyun Mountain--students in my class this morning (how many American college students would ask for a canceled weekday class to be rescheduled to Saturday morning?)  told me I am to meet them tomorrow morning at the Confucius statue at Number 5 Gate. OK. Now if I can only find the right gate....

Spring Rain, Flowering Life

A light rain settled over the Mountain Campus for the past week, though finally today it was dry. No complaints, really, since the precipitation clears the smoggy air a bit and makes for spring flowers aplenty:

Walking past the lower corner from my building, a sweet familiar scent caught my nose and sure enough a cherry tree (or some close relative) had burst into bloom:

Now THIS was interesting: on my way home from the supermarket, I passed a lady with swords slung over her back. Then another. I paused, and two more joined them. Veering from my usual shortcut, I followed discretely. Ten or so middle-aged women gathered in vacant out-of-the way spot and began warming up with a little taichi, plus twirling swords and what not. I pantomimed permission to photograph. Poetry in motion. Body and mind. Nanjing 1937? Never again!:

A group of the minority pre-graduate students stopped by my office and took me out to supper (they paid!). This was "dry hotpot" (i.e. no oil floating on top)--very good as is most everything I've eaten in China. And with such good company and a few glasses of beer, you can't go wrong:

Moved into my luxurious new apartment (with it's VERY OWN hot water heater) last week. I have to say, Southwest University (and my students and colleagues) are really pampering me. I would ask my Dean back in the U.S. for better terms, but he's probably pay SWU to take me. Two features of the new place are especially appreciated: a (whoo-hooh!) washing machine on the balcony; and an efficient little kitchen:

The living room is nice too--well lit by the large sliding glass doors to the balcony and also with a big chandelier. A good place to crash after a long day at the office or exploring local byways:

No week is going to be complete, it seems, without noticing the work of the building & grounds crew in working so artfully with nature (I need to find out if I can meet one of the gardeners):

Finally, the highlight of my week. It was my great honor to meet Chen Baoqiang, Professor of Wushu (= Martial Chen, Professor of Martial Arts). He is a Kung Fu master and part of a small but growing revival of traditional Chinese martial arts (swords, boxing, fighting poles, etc), including archery:

He has a number of students learning the traditional Manchu bow, and some show very good form:

I also shot a few arrows. The bow, though very short especially for my 6-foot frame/29+" draw, is also remarkably smooth. I regularly hit within 8 inches or so of the target center at 20 meters, and with a little work on my grip and arrow nock placement should do better.  There is no "shelf" for the arrow--you shoot it off our index finger. Likewise, no nocking point on the string--you just eyeball what seems right. Looks like a new Friday routine!

Coming Home to China

I have spent a good part of my life reading and thinking about Zen philosophy through the work of Gary Snyder, Thomas Merton, and other American authors. The traditional built landscape around Southwest University in Beibei resonates with that sense of harmony in the human/natural world (singular: one world). But there is more! Growing up in the Alleghenies, I learned to find ginseng, appreciate the virtues of maples, enjoy the beauty of blooming tulip trees--and I heard wonderful stories about that grand tree of the Appalachian forest, the American chestnut. Yes, the forest here feels very familiar and no wonder: south China and the Appalachians were a contiguous environment a mere 10 million or so years ago--an eye blink in evolutionary and geological time. Chinese chestnut tree, photo from BanLi.net:

Consider the built landscape. Man built a set of stone steps to reach one of the many little gazebos (tiào wànɡ tái  眺望台 ) that dot the campus: 

A nearby tree sent out a root and the root wanted to cross the steps. And so, with a little help from some caretaker, it did:

Sometimes you can see bits of twine used to train the growth:

There are also small pools or "pond sculptures" here and there on the campus.  This one has a tiny island with small trees and brush creating a root mass:

The gold fish seem to like it:

I found one larger pond on the university grounds, with several anglers (I think access is restricted, although the gate was open and no one seemed to mind me hanging out). A little girl of eight or ten was "Johnnie-on-the-spot" running back and forth along the narrow ledge like a crouching dragon, leaping tiger to net each fish:

The university landscapers seem to have eschewed flowers per se for flowering shrubs and trees, some of which are striking:

And some of which, like this species of magnolia, will look familiar to folks in the southeastern U.S. (view from my apartment window): 

 The common geographical/evolutionary history of south China and the Appalachians has led to an additional project spurred on by my childhood friend Gary Robertson and his friend, Sara Fitzsimmons--a scientist with the American Chestnut Foundation. American Chestnut (Castanea  dentata) trees largely succumbed to a European blight in the early 1900s. Closely related Chinese species are resistant to blight, and the foundation (among many other things) is working on ways to genetically modify the American species to be resistant without changing other aspects of the tree. A cool, postmodern project where genetic engineering (for a change) is seeking harmony with nature. 


I hope to visit a world heritage forest site near here, Wudang Mountains/Shennongjia region. Another park in the area, Zhangjiajie, inspired some of the scenery for the film Avatar, and from the movie one pillared peak in the park was even renamed "Avatar Hallelujah Mountain." Local folks collect wild chestnuts from Shennongjia and other forests, and these wild chestnuts are renowned in the region as the tastiest to be found (photos from ShopCSTong):

Walking around this sprawling campus with no straight roads yesterday, looking for the archery field, I became lost. A graduate candidate from my class spotted me, directed me to the place, and we spent the rest of the day together walking, talking, sharing a beer, and having supper together. Lo and behold, Chao Wang ("Leo") comes from the Wudang Shan region and his uncle gathers wild chestnuts. I am hoping that this provides a fertile foundation for future collaboration between Sara Fitzsimmons (who has done some field work in China) and knowledgeable locals.

In America, we think of homeless people living under bridges. Here, in a remarkably efficient use of space, I found a small home built under a bridge:

Given urban growth and modernization, and the tendency to sweep away the old, I wonder if the new China will preserve the cultural value of seeking harmony with nature:

This man on the demolition site, kind enough to allow a photograph, strikes a pensive pose:  

Though I try to emulate nature and flow like a water, I am occasionally stymied by my encounter with China, as when this interesting morsel turned up in my supper last week:

For the most part, I like what I experience. An hour+ bus trip to the big city (Chongqing) provided some sightseeing along the way, and once there I took in a musical performance by the American opera star Carla Dirlikov (photo by professional photographer Tim Hill) at the city's library: 

Two graduate students were kind enough to guide me through the intricacies of the bus system and along the streets of Chongqing. That's Tang Shuqi ("Kristy") on the left and my teaching assistant Lao Xi ("Jackie") on the right:

Strange that I've been here just a few weeks, yet the people and the environment (perhaps they are one word: the Place?) is hauntingly familiar in a way that suggests I already miss being here though there are four months left to go.  There should be a word for missing a place you haven't even left yet and will not leave for some time. Let's model it on German word amalgamation, something like, Placelongingwhileinplacebeing.