Painting the Dao

132 ak24.48 Back to Wilderness Ink and watercolour on cloud-dragon paper 77 × 140 cm, Hong Kong, May 2024 Four artist seals 水松石山房 Shuisongshi shanfang (Water, Pine and Stone Retreat) 山外山樵 Shanwai shanqiao (Mountain woodcutter who is not in the mountains) 竹虛老人 Zhuxu laoren (Old man as empty inside as bamboo) 如如居士 Ruru Jushi (Retired scholar who believes all doctrines equal) inscr iption As the Ming began its inevitable decline, as ever I retired to the wild, returning to an ideal spot I had enjoyed long ago. Most of the ancient trees I recalled were gone and what remained of my retreat was barely visible among the moss-covered rocks and scree fringing the lake. Fish remained plentiful and undisturbed and the cranes, deer and some wild goats were fearless enough, so I rebuilt my ancient home on the remnants of a few of the larger stilts still embedded in the shallows. Then I began to plant and nurture fresh pines. Eventually, after many seasons had passed, it is difficult to take time seriously beyond its stage, I was drawn back to a small hamlet in the foothills, only a day or two away from a larger urban centre, with companionship and the tempting availability of fine paper, ink and brushes. Nearly a lifetime by normal standards elapsed before I returned to find my pine trees mature and settled into the landscape; so much so that even the ramshackle remains of my old home seemed an intrusion, so I removed them, right down to the stilts on which it had stood, and over the whole of one summer burned the wood to keep warm on cool nights and cook food. Lake carp never tasted better. As autumn chills began to seep into my bones, I left, but carried with me the image of my summer sojourn. These many years later I recall it to the brush, the only remaining sign of my ever having been there. Inscribed by the Master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat at the Garden at the Edge of the Universe in the early summer of 2024.