- 17
Master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat, b. 1943
bidding is closed
Description
- Master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat
- Into the Stone
- ink and watercolor on cloud-dragon paper
signed MASTER OF THE WATER, PINE AND STONE RETREAT, inscribed, dated 2015, and with three seals of the artist
Inscription:
The Cypress Vale Hermit was a man of the Dao, a Stone Fool and an alchemist, although he had long since given up making potions and messing with elements of the World of Dust. He decided to get right to the point and approach the ultimate goal of alchemy directly. As a lover of strange stones he began by spending several years scouring the countryside for the perfect stone, searching in caves and rivers where such things might be found, but to no avail. He failed to find in the wilderness the stone that was in his mind, the stone of his dreams. Then he came to visit me for a while. Once, in the southern hills in an earlier era, I had acquired a malachite stone which stood half my height. I enjoyed it so much that when I moved back into the mountains of Zhejiang I went to the bother of transporting it to the site of my new abode. Having built the retreat in the lee of an overhanging cliff by a mountain torrent with an aspect to the south-west across a gorge providing a fine vista for bidding the sun farewell each day, I found an ancient root formation, carved it a little, fitted it to the stone and while in Yangzhou one month lacquered it. And there it stood, beside the fireplace reflecting the orange and red lights of the fire in its glossy, green surface. When Cypress Vallry set his eyes upon it for the first time, he was so taken-aback that he had to sit down, almost fainting. When he had recovered his equilibrium, although still wildly excited, he stood, bowed respectfully to the stone then burst out laughing, tears running down his face. I settled him at my table and poured him some plum wine to calm his nerves, then some for myself, and soon we became so calm that we were both laughing at the absurdity of the situation, as he recounted his wilderness quest to find the perfect stone, while all the while it was right here, in my home, warm and snug beside the fire! Of course, I gave it to him immediately. He stayed with me for many years, and every day sat staring intently at the stone for hours on end. He was moving out of the Dusty World into the realm of the stone. As his body sat for hours in utter stillness his spirit was ever more in the stone as he climbed among its valleys and peaks, and sat beside its tumbling waters. Recounting his adventures in the stone, he was travelling further and further into its infinite space. He also required less and less sustenance, obviously feeding within the stone for he never lost his healthy glow and solid form. I have often enjoyed similar experiences with stones, although never with such devoted intensity, so was not surprised. I even travelled with him on several journeys into the timeless realm. Then one day, when he did not join me for our usual cups of plum wine at sunset, I discovered that he had left his body entirely. No breath passed his lips, no blood pumped through his veins, all that remained of his personality was a broad smile. He had become an immortal and completely disappeared
Into the Stone
These many years later I paint his stone from memory, and in doing so, I regain my old friend's company even if I must drink his share of the wine as well as my own - although I wouldn't put it past him to step out of the painting and join me again. The stone I left in my mountain retreat when I finally moved on, as both it and he seemed at home there.
Inscribed by the master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat, grinning from ear to ear as I return to golden days among like-minded friends and fellow stone fools, at the Garden at the Edge of the Universe in the Spring 2015.
Inscription:
The Cypress Vale Hermit was a man of the Dao, a Stone Fool and an alchemist, although he had long since given up making potions and messing with elements of the World of Dust. He decided to get right to the point and approach the ultimate goal of alchemy directly. As a lover of strange stones he began by spending several years scouring the countryside for the perfect stone, searching in caves and rivers where such things might be found, but to no avail. He failed to find in the wilderness the stone that was in his mind, the stone of his dreams. Then he came to visit me for a while. Once, in the southern hills in an earlier era, I had acquired a malachite stone which stood half my height. I enjoyed it so much that when I moved back into the mountains of Zhejiang I went to the bother of transporting it to the site of my new abode. Having built the retreat in the lee of an overhanging cliff by a mountain torrent with an aspect to the south-west across a gorge providing a fine vista for bidding the sun farewell each day, I found an ancient root formation, carved it a little, fitted it to the stone and while in Yangzhou one month lacquered it. And there it stood, beside the fireplace reflecting the orange and red lights of the fire in its glossy, green surface. When Cypress Vallry set his eyes upon it for the first time, he was so taken-aback that he had to sit down, almost fainting. When he had recovered his equilibrium, although still wildly excited, he stood, bowed respectfully to the stone then burst out laughing, tears running down his face. I settled him at my table and poured him some plum wine to calm his nerves, then some for myself, and soon we became so calm that we were both laughing at the absurdity of the situation, as he recounted his wilderness quest to find the perfect stone, while all the while it was right here, in my home, warm and snug beside the fire! Of course, I gave it to him immediately. He stayed with me for many years, and every day sat staring intently at the stone for hours on end. He was moving out of the Dusty World into the realm of the stone. As his body sat for hours in utter stillness his spirit was ever more in the stone as he climbed among its valleys and peaks, and sat beside its tumbling waters. Recounting his adventures in the stone, he was travelling further and further into its infinite space. He also required less and less sustenance, obviously feeding within the stone for he never lost his healthy glow and solid form. I have often enjoyed similar experiences with stones, although never with such devoted intensity, so was not surprised. I even travelled with him on several journeys into the timeless realm. Then one day, when he did not join me for our usual cups of plum wine at sunset, I discovered that he had left his body entirely. No breath passed his lips, no blood pumped through his veins, all that remained of his personality was a broad smile. He had become an immortal and completely disappeared
Into the Stone
These many years later I paint his stone from memory, and in doing so, I regain my old friend's company even if I must drink his share of the wine as well as my own - although I wouldn't put it past him to step out of the painting and join me again. The stone I left in my mountain retreat when I finally moved on, as both it and he seemed at home there.
Inscribed by the master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat, grinning from ear to ear as I return to golden days among like-minded friends and fellow stone fools, at the Garden at the Edge of the Universe in the Spring 2015.