July 17, 2004

Exploring the myth of ‘celestial’ mountains, Batool Mahmood unveils the long history of spiritual quest behind sublime Chinese landscape paintings currently on display in Paris, as part of ‘The Year of China’ celebrations

A major exhibition of about one hundred Chinese landscape paintings on special loan from museums in China and France at the Galerie nationale du Grand Palais chronicles the central place that mountains and rivers occupy in this artistic genre in China. The importance of mountains and rivers in Chinese painting can be traced back to ancient times, before the advent of Taoism and Confucianism, when mountains (shan) and rivers (shui) formed the core of Chinese religious thought.

The exhibition chronicles the evolution of that thought as expressed in the paintings on display that cover the 12-19th century period. But the viewer needs to go back further in time to the second century BC to understand the underlying history of religious thought that eventually led to the creation of these paintings.

One is amply rewarded for this detour by being able to appreciate better the essence of Chinese landscapes. A plaque on the wall informs us that in the first myths and in ancient religion there always appear five sacred mountains “wu hue” and alongside these are mentioned the four rivers or “sidu”.

According to a Chinese legend, the mountains were formed when the founder of the legendary Hsia dynasty (2207-1766 BC), Yu the Great, “filled the floodwaters with living land to form tall mountains”(Huainan Zi). These five sacred peaks were believed to be pillars holding up the sky and it is these mountains, along with the four sacred rivers, that define the term “celestial mountains” — the term from which the exhibition gets its name.

Symbolizing the harmony of nature, believed to be without beginning or end, and presiding over the existence of all things, the mountains were reverentially believed to possess the secret of the “Dao” or “Way”. They were seen as a permeable frontier with the divine world and communion with them would, it was believed, unlock the secret of immortality.

Later philosophies of Taoism and Confucianism that became established in the second century AD elaborated on this belief and taught that it was possible for everyone to search for the “Way” and find peace and purity through a hermetic retreat to the mountains.

Even though from the fourth century onwards the Chinese vision of nature was no longer endowed with the same religiosity, mountains and rivers retained their importance and came to occupy a primary place in landscape paintings. The beauty of these paintings and the vast panorama they seek to unfold before our eyes can be seen as we move from room to room and are treated to works by artists from the Sung dynasty to the Ch’ing dynasty.

Two different styles are evident in the paintings. One that is colourful and seeks to show the dizzying heights of the mountains with their steep drops, the rushing torrents of water that tumble down the slopes through gorges and valleys while in the distance are more mountains that reach for the sky. The other style, executed in ink, is sparing, at times monochromatic, the clever use of line and form creating blank spaces to be filled with the viewer’s imagination as swirling mists and silent rivers give an almost mystical quality to the work.

One such painting by Mi Youren (1074-1153) titled “Mountains and Clouds” is executed in ink and shows a monochromatic landscape stretched out over a paper scroll that is almost two metres long. The soft, muted forms of mountain peaks seem to flow into each other.

There are no sharp edges or lines and even the rounded hillocks are without trees so that nothing disturbs the gaze as the eye follows the smooth contours of the artist’s brush, traverses the empty expanse of a plain and comes to rest on a river as it meanders by. The spare grey-black strokes are set off by a group of bright red, square and oval Chinese seals in one corner while in the opposite corner a set of bold, Chinese characters with their signature black flourishes terminates the painting.

Imparting the same calm atmosphere but very different in its colourful rendering of a vista of Hanjiang is an 18th century painting by Yuan Yao from the Imperial Palace collection in Beijing. Executed on silk and using ink and colours, the 2.6m long and 1.6m wide painting is done on a horizontal plane and is finely detailed.

In the background are mountain peaks cloaked in mist that rolls down to a nearby river. The grey-blue lines of the water are home to minute boats that are depicted with tiny strokes and the painting is so detailed that the viewer has to pore over it bit by bit to absorb all that it has to offer. Further along the riverbank is a settlement of houses with pink washed walls and grey roofs; trees grow on a gentle hillock nearby adding to the calm, peaceful atmosphere.

Each part of the scroll seems to tell a story and in fact this painting, like many others of that time, was meant to be seen in parts as the viewer unrolled the long scrolls bit by bit.

As we move along the painting, our eyes follow a path that leads from the houses and over a bridge that spans the river. Two men carrying a palanquin cross the bridge, past people busy buying and selling their wares. Soon the river opens up to become wide and sweeping, its banks lined with spreading trees. Houseboats have dropped their anchor here and a bustling market scene of miniature donkeys and vegetable sellers unfolds before us as the artist concludes his story leaving behind an impression of peace and serenity.

These peaceful scenes in Chinese paintings reflect the search for an inner peace that the Chinese believed could be obtained from following the doctrines of Taoism and Confucianism and later on, Buddhism. As Buddhism’s influence permeated into the local scene, it became, within a few centuries, as important as the two prevailing doctrines and spawned a style of religious art that was decidedly figurative with, for example, the image of a meditating Buddha superimposed on a flat, two-dimensional landscape.

Buddhism brought with it a new way of thinking. There was no divine revelation and no mystique. The paintings from that period are bold and colourful in sharp contrast to the traditional style of landscapes with their delicate strokes, flowing lines and subtle colours.

Amongst the Buddhist-period paintings at the exhibition is one titled “The Bodhisatva Manjusri in the mountain of five terraces.” Painted on silk in brilliant reds, greens and pinks, the painting has at its centre a meditating Buddha; a green dragon at his feet; surrounded by figures in red flowing gowns some of whom hold offerings in their hands. Behind the meditating figure, a river painted in colourful stripes snakes its way down from the mountain tops, making its way down through tree-clad slopes. The mountains and river are secondary to the image of the Buddha and act as a backdrop to the scene.

These paintings pay homage to Buddha and the mountains and rivers loose their traditional significance. But their influence is never too far away and in a room next door a Ming dynasty painting by Len Ying (1585-1664) titled “Mount Hua in Autumn” once again emphasizes the grandeur of nature in minute and rich detail. Executed on silk in ink and colours, the vertical painting is more than three meters in height and at once draws attention to the steep slopes and towering summits of mountains inked in black.

Trees perched on the edge of bare craggy rocks with huge drops draw the eye down towards the changing colours of autumn leaves with their pinks and burnished reds. Further down the eye comes to rest on a small pagoda near which a river flows and then cascades down in a waterfall, passing two robed figures on its way. The two men stand on a flat surface, seeming inconsequential, dwarfed by the immensity of the landscape. Beside them, between the rocks, the river continues its descent at a slower pace, calm and gentle until it comes to rest at the bottom of the painting.

Scenes like these continue to move and inspire us even today and this is brought home to us through the use of the contemporary mediums of film and photography at the end of the exhibition.

A screen in one of the rooms shows a film by Marc Ribaud that brings to life the paintings at the exhibition. Viewing them, we experience the wonder and beauty of the mountains and rivers. We hear the sound of the wind as it blows through the mountains, clouds gather on the peaks above the starkness of huge boulders. The film shows a group of people climbing a series of steps cut into the mountain, their smallness emphasized by the grand scale of the mountains. Shrouded in mist and at times barely visible, the mountains exude a mystic quality that is amplified by the sound of the wind.

Still images show people with hooded raincoats climbing the steps, their coats frozen in time as they flap against the wind. The images are nearly monochromatic showing grey trees with bare limbs, and then suddenly the image of one yellowing leaf fills the screen and nature’s cycle is repeated as the wind moans, the rain beats down while the mountains remain, unmoved, as they have done for centuries past.