As someone who has studied, created, and loved art for the majority of her life, I don’t mean it lightly when I say that Chinese landscape paintings are among the most beautiful works I’ve had the privilege to view. Although this can be said of virtually all art, landscapes–be them from the Tang, Song, Yuan, or Ming Dynasties–have a distinctly extraordinary ability to convey the history, politics, and philosophy of a land and people defined by resilience. Just as the imperial stamps often found adorning these works reflect the distribution and transition of wealth and power throughout China’s storied history, the content of these paintings is often metaphorical, and reflects the fears, values, and culture of people I’d otherwise never know.
One of my favorite of these paintings is Ma Yuan’s “Dancing and Singing (Peasants Returning From Work),” which is not only gorgeous, but does a remarkable job of showcasing Ma Yuan’s prowess as a formally trained, fourth-generation painter, as well as the self-expression that would ultimately cement him as one of the artists China’s Ma-Xia school would be named after. In this piece, thick-trunked trees give way to wisplike branches; an ever-encroaching fog rolls across the foothills; powerful mountains tower above temple rooftops; and masterful ax-cut strokes, somehow, carve mountains out of silk. It’s a truly memorable piece, and as such, I mean it as a high compliment when I say that, in many ways, Wuchang: Fallen Feathers reminds me of it.