Objectively speaking, this aesthetic recommendation for art has the advantage of deepening the social and humanistic landscape. First, it challenges the deception inherent in the ruling class’s rituals and music. During the Spring and Autumn and Qin-Han periods, social rituals and music flourished, with elaborate formalities deliberately employing the skillful tools of performers to deceive the masses and confuse people’s minds. For this reason, Daoism regarded ritual and music as deviating from the Dao and becoming distorted—appearing dazzling on the surface yet devoid of substantive content, beneficial to neither the world nor humanity. It advocated that following nature is the way of the world, and true beauty exists only when one does not presume superiority. The Laozi states: “Five colors blind the eye; five tones deafen the ear,” and “When people have many clever devices, the state becomes confused.” It was precisely this rebellion against such societal conditions that led many to become clever and pursue strange and wondrous things. This critique targets the aggressive and forward-looking elements within depression. Joining the World Trade Organization and achieving something reflects the world’s ambiguous ambition. Yet the literati of the Wei-Jin period regarded such pursuits as trivial, exaggerating their drawbacks and harms. On a deeper level, this attitude cannot be denied as stemming from a need for spiritual solace and self-detachment. According to the Shishuo Xinyu, someone asked the renowned scholar Yin Hao: “Why do you dream of coffins and gain money, and dream of filth?” He replied: “Officials are corrupt, hence they gain money; dreaming of coffins signifies corruption. Wealth is filth, hence dreaming of filth.” This explanation was widely circulated at the time, clearly revealing the prevailing mindset. Third, it opposes the veneration and glorification of traditional idols. The patriarchal system and kinship ties had long been sustained, fostering in this nation a strong sense of “idolatry.” Countless texts and records overflow with praise for sage kings and sages. This scholarly tradition was equally outstanding in calligraphy: “When meeting, one speaks only of Qin and Han”—demonstrating immense reverence and longing for Qin and Han calligraphers. During the Wei-Jin period, with the rise of self-awareness, many prominent figures cultivated a mindset of “seeing through idols,” sparking a trend of negating and overthrowing traditional icons. Consequently, emphasizing naturalness and praising spontaneous creation became a prevailing voice. Wang Xizhi’s Treatise on Calligraphy says: “My calligraphy surpasses Zhong Yao and Zhang Zhi’s obstructed style; some say Cao Zhang still ranks alongside them. Zhang moved effortlessly to the ink-stained pool in his study, where the water was entirely black. Had I delayed this matter, I might not have thanked him.” Worshiping nature rather than rituals, taking nature as one’s teacher, became fashionable.
Perhaps “natural spontaneity” is merely an aspirational ideal for calligraphy—a banner raised high before calligraphers as they rush forward, forever unattainable; while “intention” resembles the solid shoe worn by the calligrapher. Though occasionally scorned, it cannot be rejected—it is deeply engraved in the annual rings of calligraphy’s evolution. As recorded in the Treatise on Calligraphy: “Xizhi himself wrote the Calligraphy Treatise, identical in effectiveness to what Zhang Yi would have written. After writing the title, he responded. Initially, Xizhi did not realize this, but upon closer inspection, he sighed: ‘A small man seeks truth.’” Only the calligrapher writes stories of imitation and extension; yet from the perspective of artistic invention, nearly all calligraphers have left behind traces of “deliberate effort” in their diligent labor, shining like stars across the historical firmament of calligraphy.
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