peter nesteruk
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Chinese Gardens V (Landscapes/Grounds).
Caught between top, middle and
foreground. Certain Chinese landscape paintings (as do certain landscapes) present
themselves as the distilled essence of these three parts, the three grounds of
the picture plane. Represented,
purified. In terms of meaning; rhetorical parts. In such
paintings these three rhetorical parts are present but vestigial, reduced almost to a minimum
and, in turn, revealed in the minimal monochrome strokes of the ‘scholar’
style. This marshalling of minimal units and their segregation on the page is
the source of a maximal meaning that reaches unto the realm of last things.
Significance as the product of the placing of a ground.
The
top, whether separated, floating, or as contiguous background (but always in
proximity to the sky) carrying one meaning. Always, in the art of the world, from
whatever provenance, East or West, South or North, this is the zone that belongs to
the gods and immortals. It is therefore a zone of symbols; a zone where
perforce all must become symbol. In Chinese and Medieval western art alike,
this is the realm of the more than human, of deities and heros, of feitian and angels, their home, a depiction of the heavens.
The place of ideals, the field of pure aspiration, a country free of
contingency. The place also of the sublime, the lofty domain of the
unrepresentable. No matter how often presented as real; its placing and
suggestion are nevertheless suggestive of a realm beyond the everyday, beyond
illusion, care and desire. The Pureland is there to represent
the pure but unrepresentable. This is the realm of illuminated peaks and upland pastures, the realm of
floating mountains.
The
foreground (a space often expanded to include the centre of the image). The
ground of the present, temporal, earth-bound; site of the tiny temple, humble
dwelling of lonely bench, site of diminutive humans observed in their
contemplation of the colossal vistas before them (just like us, as if an echo,
mirror, or instruction, of how to look and what to learn). If not the present,
whether in actual (such a scene now) nor historical terms (the past
represented), then we find in the foreground (precisely in the place of the
tiny figures) the intuitive equivalent of these
times (present, or past) in terms of the parallels we use to make sense of the picture (the place
of the viewer, the viewer’s present in the picture, or our
present as joined to the present of the past, as represented). This is the place we find ‘nearest to ourselves’
in the picture; where we find ourselves in the picture; where we find ourselves
‘in the picture’. This is our point of entry, the conjunction of our present
and the picture’s present (or the present of its presented
past). The
foreground (and/or centre-ground) provides the bridge that enables us to match
‘now’ with ‘now’, aligning our other temporal facets with those in the picture,
assigning the values of past and future, before and after. (Even though in
terms of absolute chronology all the events depicted may have happened long,
long ago). The amalgam of the two presents (of the
picture and of ourselves) offers the hand of meaning, the bridge of understanding or
participation (giving the sense of the painting as ritual), and provides the conduit for the transfer
of the moral from the image to the self.
The
ambiguous middle. So often the middle
is just the foreground of the background (its nearer approach) or the middle
ground to the other two grounds, squeezed between the foreground-with-centre
and the sky(line). Yet often found, detached. Floating. As if cast adrift from the time and space of the other
parts whose discreteness its own separation guarantees. And so, sometimes
clearly (in the narrative art of many cultures, and many different art
historical traditions) an aid to temporalisation as it becomes the past or
future of the event depicted in the foreground. Part of a narrative dissected,
spatialised and displayed like entrails or a journey across the planes of the
image. Sometimes amorphous, often oblique, suggestive, not quite simply one or
the other of the available temporal valencies, never clearly quite past or
future. The separated middle ground of Chinese art is an island easily
transposable forward or backward in time. Before and after in Chinese art
topography begin with the metaphysical level, with the universal above and the
particular below, the in-between takes its place in this sequence, its
symbolism coded accordingly. The heights may be eternal, but the lower two
grounds still admit of temporal order – often showing a path that leads both
eye and person up to the universal plane. On the temporal level, the level of
narrative, the choice of left to right and right to left directionality in Chinese (medieval) art remains biased
towards the right to left, most narrative follows the direction of right to
left, the direction of the unfolding of the scroll in Eastern cultures: whilst in the Western tradition the movement is from left to right –our viewer’s left to
right- and this movement remains the default directionality. Much later Chinese art appears to
adopt this Western convention.
Copyright 2005 Peter Nesteruk