A Zen Reading of Hsu Yung-Chin

by Ling Gu Fang/Zen Teacher

You must cut away the entanglements of life in order to access and act according to your essential nature. This is a basic Zen principle. However, if there is an intention to attain this essential nature, it cannot be done. This is a contradiction that Zen shares with art.    

Art was traditionally created when an artist was inspired and able to speak from a point of deep emotion, “what is truly in your heart is shown on the outside.” Today’s contemporary artists now focus more on skillful performances. Performances that are full of intention. This is why contemporary art has become entertainment, divorced from the ideas of Zen. Any association between contemporary art and Zen principles exists in the mind of the critic or artist, not in the works themselves. 

For instance, many critics associate the works of Marcel Duchamp with Zen.  Duchamp’s work and ideas are sacrosanct for many people and his followers continue to emphasize the notions of deconstruction and subversion. But their egos overshadow their work. They can quote Eastern philosophy when explaining their art, but they are coming from a different place entirely.   

If art is to be associated with Zen, it must break the entanglements of the mind.

Of course, art does not have to be related to Zen. But Zen’s wisdom and focus on self-cultivation can make for a profound relationship with the arts. Zen poetry and painting contain a quality that endures. What’s more, it enriches the artist who creates it and raises them to a higher spiritual state.  This is why ascribing Zen qualities to art should not be done lightly. It is only after an artist is able to embody the spirit of Zen that their work can carry the label.  

When I look at Hsu Yung-Chin’s work, I see the lack of intention that forms the core of Zen philosophy. What attracts me most is how Hsu’s characters each contain their own atmosphere and qi energy and yet all the characters come together to create a whole with an atmosphere and energy of its own. Because of qi, the lines are alive. Because of qi, the characters are cohesive yet fluid. Because of qi the work is organic and unpretentious. 

Hsu’s skill has only improved as he has grown older and the qi present in his work has only increased.  Even after having had a stroke, which took a high physical toll, his work is all the more natural and vital.  His writing has become slower, but there is less intention now, and as a result it is more organic, fluid, and full of qi. 

Qi is present in people and in the world around them, but the most valuable qi occurs naturally. When qi is used in art it is often done with displays of intention and ego. This makes for a type of art that is interesting and full of skill, yet lacks a sense of calm. This sense of calm is devoid of anger and intention. It is a part of life’s natural order.  Because Hsu’s daily life is intertwined with Zen practice and contemplation, he is a contemporary calligrapher unlike any other. 

Contemporary calligraphy can be made out of conscious reflection or as a natural unconscious expression that comes out of endless practice. The first produces a strong theme but struggles at touching the heart while the second transcends ideas of traditional and contemporary art. Hsu has explored different aspects of contemporary art, but he does so without intention, staying grounded in the essential parts of life. Because of this, he effortlessly dissolves the boundaries between traditional and contemporary art.  He does this without pretension, allowing the viewer to simply absorb the raw emotion. This is why Hsu is fundamentally different from other contemporary artists.

Is art essential or a tool? Is it life or a stage? Should it flow naturally or be full of intention? These are the questions that artists must reflect upon. How can Hsu have a stroke and yet have another breakthrough? It is interesting how breakthroughs often come after suffering and painful change. 

In traditional calligraphy, Hsu’s brushwork has achieved a level of effortlessness and transcendence that might not be immediately apparent to a viewer. However, this disconnection between the viewer’s appreciation and Hsu’s work underscores the true lack of intention the work contains. 

Indeed, it is impossible to capture the essence of Hsu Yung-Chin in words. 

Flying Dragon in the Sky, 223x122cm, 2003, Hsu Yung-Chin