1.

What is intriguing about art is how it might change an ordinary substance or a mundane practice into something magical. It may stir one’s deepest emotions, affect one’s view on life, rally masses to action; or it may remain quite harmless and do nothing whatsoever. What we call ‘art’ today, defined as something integral to cultural practices, has accompanied all human cultures since the dawn of civilisation, and we moderns are not about to ‘evolve’ out of our inexplicable engagements with it. And yet what is the nature of art’s alchemy? As a tangible human experience, is it possible to understand aesthetics as a physical bodily experience that is at once intrinsically human, but also culturally defined? This paper looks at the transformative effect of aesthetics as a function of the body through core concepts first developed in China’s medical classic Huangdi Nei Jing (《黄帝内经》), and examines its manifestation within a broad spectrum of human activities pursued by the pre-modern Chinese person of culture. For Chinese civilisation, most of these cultural practices were fully developed by the centuries between the Han and early Six Dynasties (2nd c. BCE to 5th c. CE), and many of which have survived and evolved continuously until modern times. Over the centuries, the understanding of the body and its cosmological implications for China’s body politic have provided ground for building a civilisational structure, which fully developed during this early era of formative significance. Discussions below are based on the assumption of a cultural continuity based on the consistency of its medical practices and theory of the human body.

China’s traditional cosmology conceives of the world as a tripartite of three realms: Sky-Heaven (天tian), Earth (地di), and Human (人ren), and this paper proposes to adopt this simple framework to broadly discuss the cultural expressions within each of these realms. The division of the three realms is useful in that each has developed alternative visual displays based on the separate purposes they serve, each being intended for different agents. In the realm of Sky-Heaven the visual displays are not primarily intended for human spectators, but made principally for the witness of Sky-Heaven, gods or ancestral spirits. Displays in the realm of Sky-Heaven include pre-modern state-level official rites and folk-level clan rites; they function to establish legitimacy of rule and affirm ancestral lineage. Public displays of religions and spiritual sects also fall under this category. In the present paper, the realm of Earth is understood in a narrowly defined sense, and refers specifically to the underworld of the dead, a destination inevitable for the living. The long tradition of elaborate burial practices has left a rich legacy of hidden visual installations that, at unexpected moments, reveals China’s past to us moderns, even while the recent century’s wars and reckless modernisation have decimated most of its historical legacies standing above ground. In this realm, art is again produced not for human eyes, except during the funeral service before burial. Elaborately produced funerary artworks and murals are made for the benefit of the deceased and the spirits of the underworld. Although discussions here are mostly based on Han dynasty examples, yet in modern times such practices have still survived in many parts of China in simplified versions. Lastly we have the realm of the Human, where the long continuous tradition of literati art has anchored Chinese concepts of ‘fine art’, in particular the well-known traditions of calligraphy and landscape painting. Bearing in mind that experiences from these three different realms constitute aspects of one coherent cultural framework, their juxtaposition hopefully allows us to reconsider the question: where is ‘art’ situated in China’s historical-cultural context, and how does it elucidate the broader question of aesthetics in general?

When we scrutinise the pursuit of ‘art’ for a pre-modern cultured person of means, we would probably find him engaged in two long-term projects, one relating to the realm of the Human, the other relating to the realm of Earth. The first is the life-long practice of the ‘fine arts’ of calligraphy and painting; and calligraphy in particular, has been the most revered art form in China since the early Han dynasty (from 2nd BCE). Until a little over a century ago, a high level of facility in poetry and calligraphy was mandatory for anyone who trained to pursue a career of government office. Additionally, for any educated person circulating in cultured circles, the exchange of poetic writing was a required social form. One might say the gentleman’s primary ‘art project’ was self-cultivation through the proverbial ‘fine arts’ of shi-shu-hua (poetry/calligraphy/painting). Parallel to this pursuit this gentleman also had another ‘art project’ that usually started later in mature life, and this was the project of his own burial. This is a piece of ‘installation’ that often took years of preparation, as the completed project would be a permanent abode for his after-life, and it involved the collaboration of builders, painters, sculptors and other craftsmen. Recent scholarship has made insightful studies on early burial practices from the perspective of visual culture, particularly on excavated Han dynasty (202 BCE – 220 CE) tombs.

These two art ‘projects’, the first of which creates art intended to be displayed and circulated among friends (and, hopefully, of interest to connoisseurs of future generations), and the second of which creates a hidden edifice meant to be sealed off from the human world forever, cannot be more different in terms of their visuality and manner of display. And yet they have intrinsic properties in common: both are directed at transformative processes. One seeks ‘aesthetic’ transformation, aiming to turn the mundane into an experience that opens up the mind (e.g. elevating the daily working tool of calligraphy to ‘fine art’). The burial project, on the other hand, takes the body through a ritual process that aims for a spirit-body transformation. Depending on his religion, the deceased may hope to transform into an Immortal (仙 xian), or attain nirvana, or gain entry into the West Heavens (西天xi tian). Both transformations are conceptually connected through the use of the same word: hua 化, meaning transformation (translated in this paper as hua-transformation).

In Chinese language the digestive process is called xiao hua 消化. In medical literature, the bodily function that ‘chews’ food is the process of xiao 消, (to breaks down into small pieces), while changing the ‘chewed’ food into another substance is the process of hua 化 (or hua-transformation). Hua-transformation turns food into qi (气 vital energy, or qi-energy) or other fluids energised by the body’s enzymes, allowing it to engage the functions of bodily organs. Without undergoing hua-transformation, food cannot be absorbed and brought into the living process of the body. In similar ways, the literati scholar’s art that has not arrived at the ‘state of hua’, or hua-jing 化境 (literally meaning ‘the state of having transformed’, a term often used in literary and art criticism), means it has not undergone the sea-change required to turn it into an aesthetic object. As for the deceased preserved in the burial chamber, he must abide his time to undergo the ultimate spiritual hua-transformation of his ‘soul’. In the case of a Han-dynasty gentleman, this would mean to turn into an immortal, xian hua 仙化 or yu hua 羽化, (literally, the two terms mean to ‘hua-transformation’ into an ‘immortal’ 仙, or into a ‘feathered’ 羽 being). Hua-transformation is an important concept in Chinese philosophy, the well-known Book of Change, for example, is devoted to the explication of transformative processes of the world.

In his 1962 PhD thesis on concepts of life and death in Eastern Han dynasty (25-220 CE), historian Ying-shih Yu stated that it is the universal concern with life and death that underlies the philosophical predispositions of both the learned literati and the common folk. He then surmised that, if the burial represents the material manifestation of attitudes on life and death, then it should form the basis of an art history for everyone, and not just the literati’s ‘fine arts’.[1] In a similar spirit, the present paper explores how presumptions about the workings of the spirit (and art) might be better understood by examining the inexplicable workings of the living human body. The Chinese medical concepts of the body referenced here were first articulated in the classic text Huangdi Nei Jing (consisting of two separate volumes: Ling-shu Jing 《灵枢经》 and Su-nv Jing 《素女经》), an ancient system of knowledge from time immemorial, edited and catalogued for the first time in the official History of Han 《汉书·艺文志》 dating from the 1st century CE. To this day, this treatise remains the cornerstone of Chinese traditional medicine.

With burial begins the deceased’s journey to immortal transformation. The Chinese character for ‘burial’ is zang 葬: etymologically, this character is related to the word cang 藏, which carries the meanings of conserve, hide, storage, and hidden reserve. The 1st Century lexicon Shuo-wen jie-zi defines the word zang (bury) as: “to zang (bury) is to cang (conserve)”. 《说文解字》： 葬者藏也。 In the art world, the exact same word, cang 藏 (translated in this paper as ‘cang-conserve’), is used for ‘collection’. If we turn to medical language, this same word refers to the five inner organs (heart, lung, liver, spleen, kidney), cang-organs 藏 (in later era written alternatively as 臟/脏, adding a radical for semantic distinction) where life’s ‘essences’, jing 精 (translated in this paper as jing-essence), are stored. [2] According to Huangdi Nei Jing, burial is the occasion when carefully selected aspects of the jing-essence of the deceased is conserved to prepare him for his journey following death. This follows the usual elaborate Confucian rituals that start from home to grave, and funeral service does not end until further rituals are performed among the living after the burial. In grave art, the journey of the deceased is depicted in mural (or relief-carving on stone) as a procession that takes departure of the living, eventually crossing a river by bridge, and arriving at an open double door with an attendant waiting inside. The procession then enters the grave and the deceased’s coffin is deposited in the inner chamber. According to recent scholarly analyses, especially the extended researches of Professor Wu Hung, the settling of the deceased in this new abode, complete with funerary utensils and beloved objects from the living world, is only the preparation for a second journey.[3] Professor Wu Hung has astutely pointed out that murals of the outer and inner chambers are integrally related, in that the same procession that brings the deceased into the grave, as depicted in the outer chamber, again appears in the inner chamber, except that by now the procession has turned around to face the opposite direction, directed towards the grave door, indicating a readiness to embark on another journey away from the grave, out towards a higher realm. Taken together, the burial installation and ritual performance provide a complete programme of spiritual transformation. Unlike the aesthetic transformation of art, this is understood to be a performance that takes effect on the spiritual-corporeal body, hence not created for human eyes.

To compare and illuminate the transformations of the two ‘art projects’ of the pre-modern Chinese gentleman, we turn to medical theory for explanation of the workings of the ‘soul’. According to Huangdi Nei Jing, the ‘livingness’ of the human being is called shen 神, (the ‘soul’, translated in this paper as shen-soul), and it is born of the dynamic meeting of material essences, jing 精 (translated in this paper as jing-essence), during sexual intercourse. The shen-soul is composed of the dual aspects of yin and yang. Its yin aspect, the po 魄 (translated in this paper as po-soul), controls a person’s six natural passions and instinctive bodily responses (including sexual arousal, or instinctive responses such as pulling on a blanket during deep sleep when feeling cold); while the yang aspect, the hun 魂 (translated in this paper as hun-soul), is responsible for the seven emotions and intellectual insight (including love and enlightenment). Upon death the po-soul dies, but the hun-soul is believed to survive a person’s earthly existence. [4]

In life, the hun-soul is the principle faculty of emotion, wisdom and intuition, including even the so-called ‘sixth sense’. When feeling troubled, the hun-soul might be pacified by nurturing the xin 心 (the heart, translated in this paper as xin-heart), wherein resides the soul and the seat of cultivated consciousness.[5] The way to nurture the xin-heart is to strengthen the ‘will’, zhi 志 (translated in this paper as zhi-will), and adhere conscientiously to moral principles that uphold the preciousness of life.[6] If one asks how the zhi-will comes about, medical theory claims that zhi-will is the conscientious effort of intention that first grows out of the reinforcement and refinement of experience and memory (which includes learning). The word for memory, yi 憶 (translated in this paper as yi-memory), is etymologically the same word as yi 意 (intention, translated in this paper as yi-intention), and the latter word today is used as part of the compound word yi-zhi 意志 (yi-intention 意 joined with zhi-will 志) to mean ‘will’ or ‘will power’, with an emphasis on the function of ‘intention’ in the structure of ‘will’. The structural relation between ‘memory’ and ‘will’ underscores the possibility for the hun-soul to be moulded by learning and memory.[7] Through cultivation, the hun-soul develops intuitive understanding of the world and cosmos in this life, and in death the hun-soul brings its personalised memories and emotional cultivation with it to the grave.

Given this model of the human soul, the ‘humanity’ of a person that raises him above his natural vitality (the po-soul) depends critically on his hun-soul. The purposiveness of the hun- soul draws on what the xin-heart chooses to remembers, whereupon his mnemonic ability is shaped into zhi-will. The dynamic interplay between cultivation and heart-will becomes the human person. Cultivation comes from the storage of the person’s ‘digested’ vital energy and ‘digested’ experiences; physiologically, the conservation of a person’s vital livingness depends on his cang-organs, the ‘inner’ organs in charge of various forms of ‘storage’. The principal of the five cang-organs is the kidney 肾 (sheng), which conserves various forms of jing-essence 精 channelled to it from all twelves organs of the body. The vital energy of the living person, especially his sexual reproductive power, is dependent on the health and ‘hidden reserve’ of the kidney. Chinese medicine emphasises the fact that the kidney is the first organ being formed after embryonic conception and, importantly, it is believed that the intellectual prowess of the person also draws upon the natural power of his kidney.

Mnemonic function of cang-conserve, as burial/hidden reserve, is also crucial for facilitating immortal transformation (仙化 xian hua). From archaeological excavations we know a sizeable percentage of grave goods to consist of treasures and utensils from the deceased’s life on earth, here brought together with sets of funerary goods separately made for ‘human use’ (生器 sheng qi; utensils used during life on earth), ‘underground use’ (明器 ming qi; utensils for use by spirits ‘underground’ are rendered ‘useless’, for example, interiors of containers might be made solid instead of hollow), and ‘worship use’ (人器 ren qi; utensils for making offerings to gods and ancestors). What is evident with the various personal artifacts brought to accompany the deceased is their mnemonic function. These utensils of ‘human use’ represent ‘essences’ from the person’s life and, together with other grave goods, they are prepared as sustenance for the hun-spirit for its journey after life, probably for the benefit of strengthening its zhi-will, knowing that the zhi-will is the result of reinforcement of memories that form the hun-spirit’s individual character.

To draw a comparison with life on earth, this pre-modern gentleman’s ‘art project’ when he was alive also draws upon his zhi-will to help consolidate his cultivation and natural gifts. In painting, Chinese artists often emphasise the aesthetic of xie yi 写意, ‘to articulate yi-intention’. Therefore in artistic language the term yi jing 意境 (‘the realm of yi-intention’) is often used to discuss the ‘aesthetic’ content of an art work. This important term for traditional aesthetics of fine art, 意 yi-intention, is the same word discussed above in the medical context of ‘memory’ and ‘will’, (yi-intention and zhi-will). The intentional and mnemonic dimensions of yi come together for the xin-heart to produce aesthetic work. As we know, the making of art is a working process that brings together life experience, knowledge, artistic lineage, and discerning cultivation. Parallel to the hun-soul’s need to draw on its memories in life to facilitate spiritual transformation after death, the aesthetic transformation of the living artist also relies on revisiting his memories and his zhi-will to tap the fountain of creativity. [8]

2.

Diverting to a discussion of art and its institutions, cang-burial as ‘hidden reserve’ brings a different perspective to the concept of ‘collection’ and museum practice, if we consider cultural institutions as organic parts of the body-politic. André Malraux had made a moot point comparing the museum to a mausoleum, and in the case of Chinese tombs we understand why a collection need not serve the purpose of public viewing. In the tomb, collecting as cang-conserve is the conservation of lived experiences and memories, in service of souls taking leave of the living world. This is a ‘collection’ with both coherency and integrity, as it is brought together by the personal meaning it holds for the deceased. The burial display illustrates the value of a ‘collection’ as a resource of conserved energy and significant memory, which should be maintained like an inner aura that defies inspection. To make a comparison with institutions, for the same reason national museum collections do not need to exhibit their spoils, it is enough for a nation to recognise the existence of its collection and to know of its careful maintenance to draw upon its memory and energy.

This example of the invisible hoard also throws light on the history of Chinese literati collecting: art history has preserved for us a rich record of personal collection archives, passed down over the ages as annotated lists of items put together by diligent collectors. In these records the collectors often contemplate stoically on the inevitable dispersal of their treasures, but somehow they seem sufficiently satisfied by the bibliophilic pleasure in knowing the survival of their lists alone.

While we are comparing the hua-transformations of the soul and its corporeal existence in the context of art collecting, we may also want to speculate on the issue of over-accumulation. Medical books warn us of the dire consequence of collecting materials that have not undergone thorough ‘digestion and transformation’, xiao hua 消化, and the body gets burdened by indigestion. In medical terms the symptom of over-accumulation (ju-accumulation 聚) causes indigestion (ji-indigestion滞) when mild, but the symptom could take an unpleasant turn when over-accumulation brings about unhealthy cellular transformation, and mutates into cancerous ji-cluttering积 (积ji-cluttering as described in classical Chinese medicine is a symptom similar to that of cancer).[9]

3.

Emerging from the underworld, and continuing to use medical lens to scrutinise art made for display under Sky-Heaven and connoisseurship within the Human realm, an interesting point concerning ‘aesthetic intuition’ is foregrounded. If cultural performances and displays are intended to affect, or be affected by the elements and natural forces of nature, how do human senses grasp ‘messages’ contained in phenomena of the natural world? Are there particular behaviours and habits to which humans, as biological beings, should attune, in order to better connect with the ‘cosmos’?

The Huangdi Nei Jing states that the primordial principle of the world can be conceptualised as a dynamic engagement between two polarised principles, yin 阴 and yang 阳. Yin-yang dynamics is the foundation of life and death; it is also the principle of transformation for all things (Huangdi Nei Jing chapter 5 阴阳应象大论).[10] Like the heavens and cyclical seasons, human bodies are also orderly manifestations of yin-yang dynamics, which allow humans to connect with the life energy of the natural world, especially the changing dynamics of the seasons and diverse forces of the elements. (Huangdi Nei Jing chapter 3 生气通天论).[11] The yin aspect and yang aspect of the soul, respectively the material-based po-soul 魄 and the spirit-based hun-soul 魂, are controlled as a whole by the xin-heart, where intelligence and intuition are lodged. Traditional medical thinking believes the xin-heart to be capable of connecting with the phenomenal world and the cosmos at large, hence it has a transcendent dimension. ‘Artistic’ display in the realm of Sky-Heaven manifests the faith in this cosmic connection.

The geographical world is the physical manifestation of cosmic forces, and is conceived in Chinese cosmology as a realm identified by major landmarks. Especially important ones are mountains marking the four cardinal directions, giving orientation to man’s position relative to Sky-Heaven. As sacred monuments with direct access to Sky-Heaven, these natural landmarks are revered as sites where the human spirit finds communion with the cosmos. As such the ‘sacred mountains’ constitute China’s principal subject for ‘monumental art’.

Of these monumental landmarks the Mountain of the East, Mount Tai 泰山 in Shandong province has historically been the most revered. Here ancient kings came to make ritual offerings as affirmation of their political legitimacy. Ancient writings claim that, prior to the high profile ritual ceremony of the so-called ‘First Emperor’ Qin Shi-Huang 秦始皇 (259–210 BCE) of the Qin dynasty (221 BCE–207 CE) at Mount Tai, there had been 72 ceremonial visits to Mount Tai made by kings since mythological times. [12] One might be tempted to re-write Mencius’ famous saying about Confucius ascending Mount Tai, that he “ascended Mount Tai, and all beneath the heavens appeared to him small” (from Mencius)[13], to read as: “Ascend Mount Tai, and Lord over the Earth”, which was surely the idea these worshipping kings had in mind.

As a site of artistic display, Mount Tai is also particularly representative. The legendary ritual proceedings performed in 219 BCE by the First Emperor of Qin dynasty went unrecorded, kept out of sight from his attending ministers, and performed on a plain podium. For this special occasion the First Emperor built a new path up the mountain, and erected a commemorative stone carved with calligraphy by his celebrated philosopher prime minister Li Si 李斯 (280–208 BCE). Today a fragment of the stone still exists,[14] and the path from the foothill leading up to the main temple is covered with writings carved on rockfaces on either side, composed by numerous authors over two millennia.

Ancient authors have written copiously about the cosmological significance of Mount Tai and its imperial worship; special locations on Mount Tai have been named to identify the mountain as the meeting place of the three cosmological realms. These include the Chamber of Soul-Spirits 神房, Dark Path for Spirits of the Underworld 幽途, the Cloud Gate-tower 云阙 and Gate to Heaven 天门.[15] [16] [17] As the sacred Mountain of the East, symbolising spring and regeneration, in the Han dynasty Mount Tai was believed to be the site where the po-soul and the hun-soul come together; here is the place of rest for departed souls as well as the source from which new life begins. The gallery of calligraphic display along the mountain path up to the South Gate of Heaven is a public exhibition for the sight of man and god, testifying to the calligraphers’ participation in a monumental installation that connects the three cosmological realms.

As an extended discussion of the journey of the soul, art under Sky-Heaven draws attention to the issue of legitimation by an order higher than the human. As a geographical locus of mythological/ideological belief, Mount Tai in early Chinese history was a site that rose above factional partisan politics, and ritual offerings performed to Sky-Heaven on this mountain was a device to legitimise political and ideological unity. As a path of pilgrimage, the historical rock calligraphy carved along the mountain path is reminiscent of energy points along an acupuncture line of a living body, taking part in the energy circulation ascending the Mount Tai edifice, connecting man and the cosmos. The art is intended for the witness of Sky-Heaven as well as the human cultural world, and not simply a pursuit of aesthetic satisfaction; as such the ‘artwork’ is legitimated so long as the memory of Mountain of the East continues to be a living enterprise.

Marking the political domain under Sky-Heaven was an expression of the consolidation of imperial unity, and started to become an important visual practice under the Qin and Han dynasties, China’s first empires. This took the form of stelae with text, and carvings made directly on cliff face. The texts celebrated political conquests and marked geographical territory, calling for the witness of Sky-Heaven; or celebrated the success of significant engineering projects such as the opening of roads across mountainous terrains, claiming internal coherence of the empire. Carved calligraphy from that era has become a landmark in China’s history of calligraphy, and has served as references over the centuries for calligraphers seeking stylistic inspiration. As artistic installations they serve as spatial markers of the reach of China’s cultural world.

For examples of mountain carvings honouring celestial and religious spirits, there are numerous carvings of Buddhist sutras in regions around Shangdong Province, including the celebrated Jing Shi Yu 经石峪 (circa 570 CE) at Mount Tai that represents the landmark of the life-work of Monk An Dao-yi 安道一 (?– circa 580 CE). From the perspective of ‘art installation’, the anonymous sutra calligraphy at Gang Shan mountain 冈山 (580 CE) deserves special mention. The latter is a sutra carved on thirty odd large boulders, each depicting a phrase or sentence from a single sutra, but scattered around the slopes, seemingly placed at random (or perhaps arranged in an as yet undeciphered pattern). This display invites visitors to go on a sutra hunt, and form their own routes around this mountain to piece together the writing. Mountain sutras became prominent around the mid-6th century in response to an imperial edict to stem the spread of Buddhism, coinciding with the rise of apocalyptic preaching announcing the imminent end of the world (末世论、灭佛).[18] The intention for creating texts in such monumental formats was to preserve the sacred teachings for perpetuity. As Monk An Dao Yi said, ‘Silk and paper are fragile, but metal and stone do not decay easily’. [19] This form of non-copyright, open publishing is usually presented in a bold declaratory fashion, echoing the tradition of official stelae and cliff carvings, and it is rare to find an example like the Gang Shan sutra that turns the reading of the text into a game of monumental hide-and-seek under the open sky, suggesting some kind of esoteric cosmic mapping. [20]

4.

Professor Lothar Ledderose’s research on Mount Tai’s oft-neglected literati-scholar calligraphy from later centuries, carved on rocks not far away from the monumental Buddhist sutra carvings and the pilgrimage path, illustrates a transition from the monumental to the personal.[21] This juxtaposition of the monumental and the personal hints at an underlying connection between the two approaches to the mountain. It was in the 4th century CE, during the era when Daoist and Confucian philosophy reached a new synthesis, that mountains became the destination of poetic pursuit. Starting with a fresh awareness of nature first articulated in ‘mountain-water’ shan shui 山水 poetry, ‘mountain-water’ shan shui painting followed close on its heels. The pioneering poet of this genre is Xie Lingyun 谢灵运 (385–433 CE), and the first major thesis on shan shui painting was written by Zong Bing 宗炳 (375–443 CE). One conceptual principle highlighted in this fresh interest in Nature and shan shui is you 游, ‘roaming’ (you is pronounced yo in modern pinyin, and for the convenience of readers this term will be written as yo-roaming in this paper). Ascending the pilgrimage path to the Gate of South Sky-Heaven, and yo-roaming in the mountains, are two different kinds of experience: one adopts a purpose-defined route and the other is exploratory. Nonetheless they are comparable in that behind both journeys is the idea of hua-transformation. Mount Tai is known as a key path to access Sky-Heaven, and therefore a key monument on earth for channelling the qi-energy of the cosmos. The yo-roaming of the literati-artist immerses him physically in the nature-body of the shan shui system, so as to partake of Nature’s dynamic energy by following his xin-heart. In terms of its effect on the individual ‘pilgrim’, both sojourns have similar purposes, which is to access the primordial source of hua-transformation, the Formless that underlies Forms. The crucial issue being foreground at this juncture is: why the scholar-official or the literati-artist, both individual corporeal beings, believe they have the capacity to partake in the dynamics of cosmic transformation? Here again this paper defers to traditional medical theory.

Chinese medicine tells us that the primordial living power of the person, his jing-essence, initiated during conjugal conception, has the natural ability to generate new jing-essence until the person reaches maturity, after which it gradually diminishes. The way to maintain one’s jing-energy is to conserve it by observing the Way of the body in harmony with Nature’s dynamics. In its opening chapters Huangdi Nei Jing explains the ways the activities of the major bodily organs correspond to the change of seasons and natural elements, as does all vital life in the cosmos (天地tian di heaven earth), all staged within the cycle of birth, growth, harvest and conservation. For human beings, crucial to this process is monitoring the zhi-will 志, for example the need to cultivate zhi-will’s renewal in spring, and avoid stirring its tempers in summer, so that a person will be guided in planning his activities. Livingness 生气sheng qi (the qi of life), comes about through the meeting of sky-heaven, earth and living things, and Life is based on managing their dynamic changes over time. In this way the cosmos is active within human’s bodily system in both its formation and maintenance. [22]

Using medical concepts of the body to interpret the workings of natural geography is not just metaphoric, Daoist thinking interprets the physical world as a dynamic system that can be comprehended by referring to the microcosm of the human body. Between the geography of the phenomenal world and the art realm of shan shui painting is postulated another geographical arrangement, organised in yet another space-time, is that of ‘Grotto Sky-Heaven’ dong tian洞天 and ‘Blessed Earth’ fu di 福地. In this magical Daoist geography there exists special mountains with deep grottos, through which one can emerge into other parts of the world. For the initiated the world is perforated and time is also warped. It is claimed that within China’s domain there are altogether 36 such Grotto Sky-Heavens that are connected by magical tunnels through which one can physically travel. The concept of Grotto Sky-Heaven and Blessed Earth has strongly influenced the genre of shan shui painting and classical garden design. The other-worldly quality of the otherwise naturalistically depicted art of landscape shan shui painting can sometimes be interpreted as artistic visions of Blessed Earth seen by the artist as he emerges from the tunnel of a Grotto Sky-Heaven. As a concept, Blessed Earth appeared historically earlier than Grotto sky-Heaven and was originally an independent idea about utopia, it later merged with the concept of Grotto Sky-Heaven, but continues to be understood as a hallowed place that appears at the end of an unexpected, often unplanned, journey. This open attitude to surprises in the phenomenal world is integral to the exploratory yo-roaming spirit in literati-art activities.[23] [24] [25] [26] [27]

5.

Chinese shan shui painting is well known for its ability to capture the refreshing spirit of nature, and therefore its naturalistic depiction is highly regarded. However, this naturalism does not mean the paintings represent nature in ‘realistic’ or ‘representational’ manner; instead, the construction of shan shui paintings is highly schematic and follows traditional structural norms. Unlike western painting, these norms have little relation to the geometric proportion of the pictorial frame, nor is it bound by the physics of the objective world being observed. Instead, shan shui structure is guided by principles of geomancy, or feng shui 风水.[28] The fundamental concept is about the transformation of nature’s elements into invisible qi-energy 气or visible aqueous fluid jin 津, (also an essential medical term), that circulate like that of energy and fluids inside the bodily system, moving along paths that bring harmonious traffic between the upper sphere and the lower sphere. Water, trees and mountains are indispensable elements. In shan shui painting, water is often featured at the lower bottom right of the composition, conforming to the arrangement of Chinese traditional ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ numbering systems, tian gan 天干 di zhi 地支. (The bottom right corner of a space is the hai 亥position, a principle position for energy to enter or exit the space). Circulation is key for nurturing a positive spirit, both in the spirit of nature and in the corporeal body. Concerning circulation, the terminology for shan shui art and the body often coincide. The key medical terms for smooth circulation include tong 通 (meaning ‘through passage’) and chang 畅 (‘smooth passage’), exactly the same vocabulary used for aesthetics. The lexicon Shuowen Jiezi 《说文解字》 (121 CE) uses the word tong 通 to define the word dong 洞 (grotto) of dong tian 洞天 (Grotto Sky-Heaven), which highlights Grotto Sky-Heaven’s feature of connective ‘channelling’. These words are used for discussions of energy movement in various forms, and in the aesthetic theory of shan shui painting the word chang 畅 ‘smooth passage’ has a particular historical significance.

Chang 畅 ‘smooth passage’, also has the meaning of ‘expressing happiness’, ‘expressing freely’ and ‘happiness as relief’.[29] To articulate the spiritual pleasure of roaming the mountains Zong Bing introduced a new aesthetic term, Chang shen 畅神, literally ‘smooth flowing of the soul-spirit’, or ‘give pleasure to the soul-spirit’, in his Introduction to Painting Shan Shui 《画山水序》 (c. 430 CE), a text celebrated as the first major treatise on landscape art. Although Zong Bing was committed to Buddhism, this treatise basically employs Daoist terminology consistent with contemporary philosophical discourse of the time. Concerning Zong Bing’s intended meaning of the term soul-spirit shen 神 there are disagreements among scholars, but that the term alludes to a hua-transformation of some form is certain.[30] [31] According to Zong Bing, this transformation occurs when physical sensation touches the xin-heart, and the xin-heart is in turn transported by the shen-spirit of the mountains.[32] On the relation between the human and the natural world Zong Bing’s thinking is certainly inclined towards the medical Daoist rather than Buddhism. His well-known passage on the art of shan shui claims: “The Sage (圣人sheng ren) follows the Way with his shen-spirit, and the Virtuous person (贤 xian) thereby tong 通 (understands, finds passage). Shan shui charms (媚mei) the Way with its Form (形xing), and the Benevolent one (仁者 ren) finds pleasure (乐 le) in it.” The Sage here obviously refers to Confucius, (who was proclaimed a Sage during the Han dynasty), who has famously stated that the Benevolent person finds pleasure (乐 le) in mountains while the Wise finds pleasure in waters. We may corroborate this core passage with Huangdi Nei Jing’s definition of the Sage and the Good (from Chapter One). Huangdi Nei Jing describes two types of beings that can attain immortality, but when it comes to describing the Sage 圣 sheng, he is placed at a level that is neither immortal nor beyond the social world. The Sage is one who lives a dutiful earthly life but still manages to perfectly negotiate the harmony of the cosmos, and can therefore live over a hundred years. The Virtuous person 贤 xian also follows cosmic principles and ancient wisdom, and he lives a full human life. In medical terms, ‘mountain’ and ‘water’ belong separately to the aspects of yang and yin; the yang aspect of the shen-spirit ascends Skyward, while the yin aspect of water moulds and nurtures Form. What Zong Bing seems to suggest is the mortal human being can fulfil his destiny by aspiring to be Good or Benevolent through the aesthetic charm (mei) of mountain-water (shan shui), and live a life of happiness as defined by Confucius.

Zong Bing’s account of his increasing infirmity in old age when he inevitably had to give up his beloved mountain sojourns, is of particular interest here: he states that he was able to continue to ‘explore the universe by unfolding pictures scrolls in solitude’ “披图幽对, 坐究四方”, and in this way he continues to engage the transformative experience of the mountains. That the experience of physical roaming in nature can be rekindled by pictorial exploration with the xin-heart (the physical seat of emotion and xin-soul), suggests the possibility of spiritual transformation through aesthetic pursuit. Artist-theorist Zong Bing’s example illustrates an attitude that has affected the traditional display of literati art, and also the practice of art-making over the centuries.

Traditionally, the preferred site of display for literati art has been the scholar’s garden, which is constructed to resemble an idyllic hideaway in the mountains. Here artists and literary associates share their artworks and collections with intimate friends under the open sky or inside open pavilions. Here, also, is where the experience of mountain-water sojourns is translated and captured as an ‘art installation’ for aesthetic appreciation. Like a landscape painting, the scholar’s garden is an object of connoisseurship, both for contemplation as well as a reduced form of physical yo-roaming. While yo-roaming in Daoist magic mountains offers a dynamic exchange with the energy of nature, the scholar’s garden offers a dynamic exchange between connoisseurs; in both cases nourishing the shen-soul with aesthetic stimulation.

A yaji 雅集 (‘elegant gathering’) may be characterised as a special exhibition where the fleeting experience of the event, and the context of the particular occasion or season, are emphasised. Participants are expected to articulate their connoisseurship by responding with poetry, critical commentary or painting. In classical poetics, the encounter that sparks the urge to poetry is called xing 兴, meaning ‘to be inspired’. Therefore the ideal yaji gathering is one that brings about such ‘aesthetic moments’ of inspiration. Unlike the modern museum experience that sanctifies artworks for adulation and education, at the yaji gathering the emphasis is on aesthetic encounters, and artworks are presented in formats suitable for personal handling. Unfolding a handscroll is of course suited to the delivery of the time-based experience of roaming a landscape, in the spirit of Zong Bing’s seated explorations (wo you 卧游). The group of colophons (ti ba 题跋) written by connoisseurs that often accompany old paintings (usually attached to the end of the scroll), preserves a record of the ‘aesthetic moments’ the painting has inspired over its history.

6.

While the ideal occasion for the display and exchange of art is the yaji garden gathering, making art on the move has a long tradition in China. Yo-roaming is usually accompanied by poetry writing and painting, but it is quite different from European plein-air painting which re-presents views at stationery spots. For the literati artist, all of nature is a canvas, and before the advent of today’s mass tourism and the defacement of scenic spots by graffiti, literati artists inspired by a scenic view would write poetry to be carved in nature, usually on a natural rock face in situ, just as they would compose colophons to be attached to admired artworks. To ‘colophon nature’ 题跋山水 in this way is another form of literati display, it has no specific audience in mind other than nature and its imagined admirers. This form of ‘interactive art’ pays tribute to Nature; taking Nature as its interlocuter and recognising Nature as a source of xing-inspiration, the connoisseur pays homage with creative aesthetic responses. The concept of ‘play’, wan 玩, emphasises a ‘playful’ interaction, which gives rise to the common saying 游山玩水, ‘roaming mountains and playing among waters’.[33]

Parallel to mountain walks, another form of yo-roaming that has charmed both connoisseurs and artists is the shu hua fang 书画舫. The terms literally means ‘calligraphy-painting vessel’, and is translated as ‘floating studio’ by Professor Fu Shen who first theorised the subject.[34] South of the Yangzi River commuting vessels criss-crossed a vast territory by way of canals and rivers, and they were propelled by water currents, the energy of nature. Fu Shen surmised the format and vista of the hand-scroll format being strongly influenced by painting at water-level while travelling along a river. Early anecdotes of such connoisseurship include an incident in 7th Century CE when Emperor Yang Di of Sui dynasty (reigned 605–618 CE) took a boatload of his art treasures on a pleasure journey and lost part of his famous collection of Wang Xizhi calligraphy when the boat capsized.[35] The ‘floating studio’ has an illustrious history: the person who gave it this name was the great calligrapher Mi Fu (1051–1107); later, Ni Zan (1301–1374), one of the ‘Four Masters’ of the Yuan dynasty, gave up his estate and boarded a vessel with his prized collection when the Mongols sacked China’s capital, and spent the rest of his life on lakes and rivers, dropping in on friends living along the shore. The tradition of the ‘floating studio’ flourished for centuries, even in the early 1900s there were still art dealers in Shanghai trading on boats at Huangpu River piers at the end of Jiu Jiang Road.[36]

7.

‘Art under Sky-Heaven’ also finds its way into public spaces in the urban social world. In Chinese visual culture, especially in pre-modern times, calligraphy in public spaces represents the presence of the person. This explains the prolific amount of imperial calligraphy by rulers and eminent scholars that adorn public administrative buildings, and memorial halls private and public. This phenomenon of visual culture suggests how in China the cultivated self might, through calligraphic art, promote the power of aesthetics in spaces symbolic of social-political presence.[37] In such a role the visual culture of calligraphy is comparable to the re-presentation of the human figure in European art. In pre-modern China, images of the human figure never rose to the level of calligraphy in either prestige or social legitimacy. ‘Westernisation’ as an integral aspect of China’s ‘modernisation’ is reflected in its visual culture, as evidenced by the increasing prominence of the human figure in public spaces, starting with the Republic revolution in 1911. Mao Zedong’s rule, 1949 to 1976, introduced a dramatic change in propaganda culture. For nearly three decades the domain of China was covered with both political calligraphy and propaganda figurative painting, representing visual language of power both China and European. Mao’s own calligraphic style as well as his personal portraiture featured prominently. Political calligraphy by the general public was also promoted to encourage mass participation. One might claim this to be the last great moment for the tradition of calligraphy, in terms of its role in public representation of power in China, even though it had to concede to sharing the stage with figurative political art.

As cosmology, the three realms of Sky-Heaven, Earth and Human represent a coherent civilisational construct, and the one common artistic practice that stands out among them is art of the written word. Before the rise of status of calligraphy in 3rd BCE during the Han dynasty, the ‘Six Arts’ of the gentleman centred around Shi 诗 (poetry) and Li 礼 (rites).[38] Li, often translated as ‘rites’, concerns ‘order’ in both the social and cosmological world. Li-rites is a set of moral and performative practices that eventually anchored China’s social customs and political institutions. In this respect Li-rites may rightfully claim to represent China’s core belief, or ideology. But as a spiritual technique, and a conscientious practice that cultivates a person’s sensibility, with the aim to navigate the experiential world as a fulfilled individual, Li-rites also represents China’s principle aesthetic practice. Confucius defined the spirit of Li-rite succinctly: “Li-rite is to cultivate; Li-rite is to respect others”.[39] As far as the cultured gentleman was concerned, there was no exclusive site for the practice of Li-rites, the World was the domain of Li-rites. Before the rise of calligraphy, the material production related to Li-rites ought to be identified as China’s principle ‘fine art’.

The Spring and Autumn Annals (in an entry from the year 587 BCE) entreats the gentleman to “honour trust (xin 信) in order to safeguard the ritual wares (qi-ware 器); use qi-wares to conserve/store (cang 藏) Li-rites; practice Li-rites to guide righteous behaviour (yi-righteousness 义); generate benefit/profit (li-profit 利) under principles of righteous behaviour; use profit to level/be fair (ping 平) the people. This is the core principle of politics (zheng 政)”.[40] These words were spoken in reference to the ideological/moral status of ritual wares. For us contemporaries in the globalised world, this admonition is an interesting reflection on how the agency of ‘art object’, as an instrument bearing the essence of ‘order’, might serve social politics by generating ‘benefit/profit’ through guiding righteous practices, and assuring that this ‘benefit/profit’ is shared with ‘fairness’. Until the present day, performative aspects of the rites of burial and worship continue to be governed by Li-rites. As art, the pre-eminence of literati calligraphy only superseded the practice of Li-rites during the Han dynasty; since then, the sophisticated connoisseurship of calligraphy has remained an unbroken tradition.[41]

The written word, for its power of making the World appear through the act of naming, has always been adulated by scholars.[42] But it was the practical importance of calligraphy invested in the vastly expanded class of literate administrators in the new dynastic empire of Han in 3rd century BCE that gave the literati a new status in society. Among the various traditional forms of writing: oracles on bone, official texts cast in bronze, public announcements chiselled on rock etc, one important tradition of writing that has been excluded from the narrative of fine art until today is shamanist magic writing (shaman wu 巫), which has fortunately been preserved in Daoist practices. The exclusion of Daoist magic writing from traditional narratives of fine art history is the result of many centuries of unwavering focus on writing created by the literati. With the examination of art in a contemporary light, the significance of multiple forms of writing emerges. Today, the worship of gods and communication with spirits continue to depend on Daoist magic writing (fu lu 符箓). Making offerings to the spirits with nothing more than a piece of paper inscribed with writing, testifies to the Chinese faith in the power of the written word.

8.

The diversity of transformative experiences illustrated in discussions of the three cosmological realms above are all ‘transubstantiations’ of one kind or another. The aesthetic transformations characteristic of art in the Chinese cosmological world should therefore be read as part of a complete programme designed for the care of the living being: as a biological organism, as a social political participant, a cosmic being and a post-human/after-life spirit.

Broadly speaking, transformative techniques are applied to affirm life. Within the living organism, this is done by balancing the interactive dynamics of the body. Of the soul-spirit’s sojourns in life, under Sky-Heaven or within the human realm, engagement with the experiential world is made by circulating along paths of qi-energy transformation. For the literati artists, acknowledging moments of xing-inspiration through poetry and painting when the beauty of the world moves them helps to liberate the soul-spirit. The phenomenal world, like Grotto Heavens, is perceived to be full of perforations that allow the soul to escape to magical destinations. Finding these perforations, and moving through them, is the transformative power of aesthetics.

In Daoist philosophy, the classic discussion of ‘freedom’ in terms of yo-roaming is found in Zhuang Zi’s Xiao Yao You 《逍遥游》.[43] Zhuang Zi argues for a form of yo-roaming that he calls xiao yao 逍遥, which is ‘unfettered’ and not dependent on ‘support’ (wu dai 无待). While the word ‘freedom’ in English implies freedom ‘from’ certain constraint, and the word ‘yo-roam’ in Chinese implies dependency on vessels, the xiao yao of Zhuang Zi seeks unconditional liberation. The state of xiao yao freedom can only be reached when the differentiation between subject and object, achievement and non-achievement, self and the world, are all obliterated[44]. If ‘unfettered freedom’ is the ultimate aesthetic transformation sought in art, then the practice of art should aim for yo-roaming that moves in harmony with the ever-changing transformative power of the cosmos. One might say that ‘art’ resulting from such a state of freedom would itself constitute a part of the mystery of the cosmos.

Like spiritual faith, art is the practice that ‘heals’ and makes whole the incongruities and incompleteness in experiences of the world. One universal and perennial human pursuit concerns the overcoming of the finitude of life, and this concern has given the world some of its greatest art. This fundamental purpose of art obliges us to discuss art in terms of cosmologies, such as that of pre-modern China here, and not just as a specialised discipline. Artists working within the expanded field of contemporary art today are turning to vastly more complex issues of the mundane world, issues ideological and social-political; they are also confronted by challenges brought upon us by the transformative power of human ingenuity, which has created radical imbalances and destructive forces in both the natural and technological world. Facing these new conditions, contemporary art might find kindred spirit in artists of the past, and recognise a new need to yo-roam, now not just with natural forces, but also man-made technological powers, in order to create in partnership with these unpredictable and often errant creative energies.

GLOSSARY of Chinese terms

(in order of appearance in the essay)

Huangdi Nei Jing <黄帝内经> (Medical) Inner Classic of Emperor HuangDi (the Yellow Emperor)

Ling-shu Jing <灵枢经> and Su-nv Jing <素女经> The two books of the Inner Classic of Emperor HuangDi

tian天 (Heaven), di 地 (Earth), ren 人 (Human)

shi-shu-hua 诗书画 (poetry/calligraphy/painting)

xiao hua 消化 (digest)

xiao 消 (to break down)

hua or hua-transformation 化 (transformation)

qi-energy气 (vital energy)

hua-jing 化境 (literally ‘the state of having transformed’)

xian hua 仙化 (hua-transform into an ‘immortal’ 仙)

yu hua 羽化 (hua-transformation’ into a ‘feathered’ being羽)

zang or zang-burial葬 (burial)

cang or cang-conserve藏 (conserve, hide, storage, hidden reserve)

cang-organs 藏or 脏 (inner organs of the body)

jing-essence精 (essence)

shen-soul神 (the soul)

po-soul魄 (the yin aspect of the shen-soul)

hun-soul魂 (the yang aspect of the shen-soul)

xin-heart心 (the heart)

zhi-will志 (will)

yi-memory忆 (memory)

yi-intention意 (intention)

yi zhi will意志 (yi-intention 意 joined with zhi-will 志to mean ‘will’ or ‘will power’)

‘human use’ sheng qi生器 (for burial: utensils used during life on earth)

‘underground use’ ming qi明器 (for burial: utensils for use by spirits)

‘worship use’ ren qi人器 (for burial: utensils for making offerings to gods and ancestors)

xie yi 写意 (to articulate yi-intention)

yi jing 意境 (the realm of yi-intention)

 ju-accumulation 聚 (accumulation)

ji-indigestion滞 (indigestion)

ji-cluttering积 (cluttering)

yin 阴 and yang 阳

Mount Tai or Tai Shan Mountain泰山

The First Emperor of Qin, or Qin Shi-Huang 秦始皇 (259-210 BCE) of Qin dynasty (221 BCE-207 CE)

Li Shi 李斯 (280-208  BCE)

Chamber of Soul-Spirits 神房, Dark Path for Spirits of the Underworld 幽途, the Cloud Gate-tower 云阙 , Gate to Heaven 天门 (names of several sacred sites at Mount Tai)

Jing Shi Yu 经石峪 (Slope of Carved Sutra at Mount Tai)

Monk An Dao Yi 安道一 (?- circa 580 CE)

Gang Shan Mountain 冈山

Apocalyptic preaching announcing the imminent end of the world 末世论、灭佛

Xie Lingyun 谢灵运 (385-433 CE)

Zhong Bing 宗炳 (375-443 CE)

Yo-roaming, you 游 (roaming; you is pronounced yo in modern pinyin, and for the convenience of readers this term is written as yo-roaming)

sheng qi 生气 (livingness, the qi of life)

dong tian洞天 (Grotto Sky-Heaven)

fu di 福地 (Blessed Earth)

feng shui 风水 (geomancy)

jing 津 (aqueous fluid with energy)

tian gan 天干 di zhi 地支 (cosmological counting systems)

hai 亥 (a ‘number’ in the di zhi system)

tong 通 (through passage)

chang 畅 (smooth passage)

Shuowen Jiezi <说文解字> (an important lexicon published (121 CE))

Chang shen 畅神 (literally ‘smooth flowing of the soul-spirit’, or ‘give pleasure to the soul-spirit’)

sheng ren 圣人 (the Sage)

xian贤 (the Virtuous)

ren 仁 (the Benevolent)

mei 媚 (charm)

le乐 (pleasure)

yaji 雅集 (‘elegant gathering’, a party of the literati)

xing 兴 (to be inspired)

wo you 卧游 (seated explorations)

ti ba 题跋 (to write a colophon)

wan 玩 (to play)

yo-roaming游山玩水 ‘roaming mountains and playing among waters’

shu hua fang 书画舫 ‘floating studio’

Li-rite 礼 (often translated as ‘rites and rituals’)

xin 信 (trust)

qi-ware 器 (ware)

yi-righteousness 义 (righteousness)

li-profit 利 (benefit, profit, gain )

ping 平 (level, be fair)

zheng 政 (politics)

wu 巫 (Shaman)

Xiao Yao You <逍遥游> (Xiao Yao Roaming, an essay by Zhuangzi (circa 369-286 BCE))

xiao yao 逍遥 (a form of yo-roaming defined by Zhuangzi)

wu dai 无待 (‘unfettered’, not dependent on ‘support’)

[1] Yu Ying-shih, Life and Immortality in The Mind of Han China (Linking Publishing, 2008).

[2] Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor) Chapter 4.《黄帝内经·金匮真言论第四》：“藏者为阴府者为阳，五藏者藏精气而不泻，故满而不能实，六府者传化物而不藏，故实而不能满也。”

[3] Wu Hung, The Art of The Yellow Spring (Reaktion Books, 2010)

Wu Hung, “Beyond the ‘Great Boundary’ —Funerary Narrative in the Cangshan Tomb”, Journal of  Nanjing Arts Institute, no. 1 (2005).

Wu Hung, ‘The theory and practice of ‘MingQi’: The conceptualization tendency in ceremonial art in the Warring States Period, Cultural Relics, no. 6 (2006).

 [4] Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor) Ling Shu Jing Chapter 8.《黄帝内经·灵枢经·本神第八：“生之来谓之精, 两精相搏谓之神, 随神往来者谓之魂, 并精而出入者谓之魄。”

[5] Xu Wenbing, Zi Li Cang Yi (Taipei: Book Republic, 2017), p. 85.  徐文兵：《字里藏医》：“脑为先天原神之府，心乃后天识神之府。”

[6] For a discussion of the incorporation of Confucian moral values into medical theory during the Han dynasty, see Xu Xingwu, ‘Morality, Politics, Medical Practice: Confucian Techniques of Qi Cultivation in Qian-Wei Philosophy’, Zhonghua Wenshi Lun Cong 87, 2007.

[7] Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor) Ling-shu Jing Chapter 8《黄帝内经·灵枢经·本神第八》：“心有所忆谓之意, 意之所存谓之志，因志而存变谓之思，因思而慕远谓之虑，因虑而处物谓之智。”

[8] In the context of this paper, the complexities of the concept of yi-intention 意have been reduced to its etymological root of ‘memory’ (the standard word for ‘memory’ has an additional radical than yi-intention, written as 憶/忆, to distinguish its meaning) , and the emphasis is put on the role memory plays in forming the zhi-will 志, so as to echo the original usage of these words in classical medical literature. However, it is not the intention here to simplify the aesthetic exposition of the concept of yi jing (realm-of-yi) 意境, which in art theory is core to Chinese aesthetics, and should be the subject of a separate discussion. Furthermore, since the Han dynasty, philosophical debates about ‘intention’ and ‘word’ (言versus意) had helped thinkers of the subsequent Six Dynasties to reach new metaphysical sophistication, with direct bearing on the maturity and development of the ‘fine art’ of poetry and painting.

[9] Historically the symptom of cancer was broadly grouped under the diagnosis of ji-cluttering 积, ranging from serious indigestion to cancerous growth.

See Xu Wenbing Zi Li Cang Yi (Taipei: Yeren Publishing House,2017), p. 193.

Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor), Ling-shu Jing Chapter 4: Forms of Diseases of Cang-Organs Caused by Errant Qi (HK: Chung Hwa Book Publishing, 2012), p. 275.

[10] Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor) Chapter 5, p. 60.

[11] Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor) Chapter 3, p. 33.

[12] Sima-Qian, Book of History, vol. 28, (Beijng: Chung Hwa Book Publishing House, 2014), pp.1644–1645.

[13] English translation by James Legge (1815–1897). The Chinese Classics (Mencius Book 7 Part 1).

[14] 《泰山刻石》又名《封泰山碑》，原刻石总222字，原石高约1.6米，现只存1.32米。四面均有刻辞，三面赞颂秦始皇统一大业的功绩，刻于秦始皇二十八年（前219年），第四面是秦二世的诏书，刻于秦二世元年（前209年），传为李斯撰文并书丹。如今只有十个字可见：“斯臣去疾昧死臣请矣臣”。《泰山刻石》与《峄山刻石》《琅琊台刻石》《会稽刻石》合称“秦四山刻石”。《泰山刻石》原立于山东泰安市泰山顶，残石现藏山东泰安市泰山岱庙东御座院内。

[15] Jia Nan and Rui Bifeng, Modern Communication 268, 2018. 贾南、芮必峰：《作为信仰“装置”的秦汉石刻：一种媒介学的视角》。

[16] Wang Zijin, Shiji de Wenhua Fajue, Hubei People’s Publishing House, 1997.

[17] Zhou Ying, Journal of Taishan University 42, no. 1 (2020). 周郢：《试论泰山“政治山”地位的形成》。

[18] Lai Fei. Sutra carvings at Gang Shan, Shandong Art Publishing House.

[19] An Dao-yi (?– circa 580 CE). 安道一：“缣竹易销，金石难灭，托以高山，永留不绝。”

Apocalyptic Preaching 515-645 CE. “末法思想”：515–645北齐。

Prosecution of Buddhist Teachings 408-452, 543–578 CE. “灭法”：北魏拓跋焘 408–452, 北周武帝 543–578

Xiang Rong, Modern Philosophy, issue 129, (July 2013). 论述见：向荣《中国古代佛教摩崖刻经略论》。

[20] It is interesting to compare contemporary art influenced by this rock installation. In 2018 Qiu Zhijie (born 1967) created the work One Word One Stone, an installation of nearly 500 large pebbles, each carved with one or up to three words from Liang Qichao’s “Success Or Failure”, a chapter of about 600 words from his Book of Freedom which Liang wrote during his time in Japan in 1902. This work was created for Qiu’s retrospective of his works relating to the written word, presented by the Kanazawa Museum of the 21st Century in 2018. Qiu Zhijie proposed to spread some of these pebbles in public spaces of the neighbourhood near the museum for them to get adopted for private collecting.

[21] Lothar Ledderose, ‘Jing Shi Yu: From Buddhist Site to Literati Site’, Journal of Taishan University Vol 41, issue 209, 2019.

[22] Huangdi Nei Jing (Inner Classic of the Yellow Emperor) Chapters 2, 3, 5.

[23] Li Yuanhai, ‘Grotto Heaven and Blessed Earth as Daoist Utopia’, Journal of Xinan Minzu University 184 (2006): 118–123.

[24] Li Hailin, ‘Study of the Formation of Daoist Grotto Heaven and Blessed Earth’, Zongjiao Yanjiu, no.4 (2014): 73–77.

[25] Jiang Sheng, ‘The Belief in Cave of Religious Daoism’, Journal of Literature History and Philosophy 278, no.5 (2003): 54–62.

[26] Jiang Yongshuai, ‘The Grotto-heavens and “Peach Blossom Spring” in the Garden Paintings of Ming Dynasty: Zhang Hong’s Painting Album Zhiyuantu and Related Issues’, Art Journal 5 (2019): 31–39.

[27] Zhou Nengjun, ‘Geographical Distribution of Grotto Heaven and Blessed Earth’, China Taoism, no.6 (2013): 50–52.

[28] Ding Xiyuan, The Feng-Shui of Art, Shanghai People’s Art Publishing House, 2006.

[29] 《玉篇》：“畅，达也，通也。如《周易坤》：美在其中而畅于四支，发于事业，美之至也。孔颖达疏：有美在于中，必通畅于外。”

[30] Lin Chao-cheng, ‘The Six Dynasties lay Buddhist art—A research according to Zong Bing’s chang shen’, International Journal of Buddhist Studies(Ling Jiou Mountain Prajna Press,1992), pp.180-200.

[31] Chen Chuan-xi, ‘Study on Zong Bing’s Introduction to Painting Shan Shui’, Study on Painting Theory in Six Dynasties, Taiwan Student Book, 1991.

[32] Zong Bing (5C CE), Introduction to Painting Shan Shui (c. 430 CE). 宗炳 《画山水序》：“至于山水，质有而趣灵。……夫圣人以神法道，而贤者通；山水以形媚道，而仁者乐，不亦几乎。……夫以应目会心为理者，类之成巧，则目亦同应，心亦俱会。应会感神，神超理得。”

[33] Craig Clunas, Fruitful Sites: Garden Culture in Ming Dynasty China (Duke University Press, 1996).
[34] Fu Shen, ‘The Floating Studio of Tung Ch’i-chang’, Taida Journal of Art History, no.15 (2003): 205–297.

Fu Shen, ‘The Floating Studio’, Nan Zong Zheng Mai (Beijing University Press).

[35] Lothar Ledderose, Mi Fu and the Classical Tradition of Chinese Calligraphy (China Academy of Art Press, 2008), p. 42. Emperor Yang of Sui’s treasure boat, see Lidai Minghua Ji (History of Famous Paintings across Dynasties) volume 1.

[36] Lu Beirong, ‘The Boat of Calligraphy and Painting’, Forbidden City Journal, no.8 (2016): 12–13.

[37] Chang Tsong-Zung, Power of the Word, Independent Curators International, New York, 1999.

[38] Hsu Fu-Kuan on the ‘Six Arts’, from his monograph study of the Li-rites classic Zhou Guan (Student Book Publishing Company, 1980), p. 168. 徐复观《周官成立之时代及其思想性格》：“以‘礼乐射御书数’为六艺，乃《周官》出现以前所未有。古代之所谓‘艺’是艺能。《论语》的‘游于艺’，‘吾不试故艺’，及‘吾少贱也故多能’，‘艺’与‘能’是相通的。把‘礼乐射御书数’称为艺固无不可，但战国末期出现‘六艺’一词以后，皆指‘诗书礼乐易春秋’而言，更无例外。”

[39] Cited by Xun Zi (circa 313–238 BCE) in his Li Lun (Treatise on Li-rites).《荀子·礼论》：“礼者养也。礼者敬人也。”Zheng Xuan (127–200 AD) .

[40] Spring and Autumn Annals, entry from year 587 BCE.《左传成公二年》：“唯器与名不可以假人，君之所司也。信以守器，器以藏礼，礼以行义，义以生利，利以平民，政之大节也。”

[41] Ban Gu (32–92 CE), History of Han: Book of Intellectual History.《汉书·艺文志·小学类》：“汉兴， 萧何草律，亦着其法曰：太史试学童能讽书九千以上，乃得为史。又以六体试之，课最著者以为尚书御使史书令书。吏民上书字不正，辄举劾。”

[42] Huai Nan Zi. 《淮南子·本经训》说：“昔者苍颉作书，而天雨粟，鬼夜哭。”

[43] Zhuangzi, Xiao Yao You. 庄子《逍遥游》：“至人无己，神人无功，圣人无名。”