Painting the Dao

48 incidental to the dance itself, allowing the inner patterns of reality to take the lead. In this transformation everything changes, including, however incrementally, me . Paradoxically, the more the surface subject matter comes together, the more abstract it is. Paradox is found on the cusp between one level of consciousness and the next, until we transcend the realm of definition, including that of paradox. Fully involved in the ultimate role of creativity, I paint the Dao. In Dao- ism it is understood that the Dao that can be explained is not the Dao, but it is not difficult to express beyond verbal language. That is the theoretical foundation of my understanding of creativity and art. Painting esoteric objects as a mimetic exercise was an early impulse which didn’t last long. I soon found that I could do it, which surprised but didn’t delight me for long. 15 ak9.16 I enjoyed the process of discovering that I could do it, but it seemed a little constrained; more like a repetitive craft than art. It was far more fun to start with an object, real or imaginary, and allow each painting to evolve naturally. This led to strange stones coming to life full of other-worldly creatures, energy and colours. I acquired a lovely Taihu stone from a fellow collector of esoteric Chinese art, which I gave to my daughter, also a creative aesthete, and painted her four views of it on Italian paper. I came to realise that painting what I see is far less exciting than seeing what I paint. 16 ak12.46 I have an enduring interest in scholar’s objects and literati trappings and they began turning up in the paintings. Then I began to invent objects, which was still more liberating. I was painting beyond the Stage of Time and its rules. The fetters of the dusty world were broken and I could collect scholarly works of art or invent them afresh, becoming the tradition I had delved into and reflected for so long, an utterly absorbing process. One of my collecting passions arose out of my regular visits to Paris in the 1960s and early 70s. A dealer on the Left Bank, Gerard Levy, also enjoyed scholarly works of art, and in his small shop, in a corner behind his desk, was a spectacular walking staff. It is impossible to see endless Chinese paintings without seeing such staves in the hands of the elite. They were ubiquitous in paintings but, as I quickly discovered, very rare as aesthetic objects to collect. The majority of those depicted never existed, of course, and many in real life would have been functional – a segment of vine, a length of bamboo – and would not have been valued as works of art. I have been collecting them for more than half a century and still have very few I would admit to owning. By far the finest is the one I lusted after in Paris as a young man. Time after time, Gerard refused to sell it to me, despite my ak9.16 The Empty-headed Hermit’s Ruyi Sceptre – Two Views in Sepia (one part) 92 × 95 cm, Hong Kong, 2009 Private collection ak12.46 The Five Stone Fools of Taihu 55.8 × 76.8 cm, Hong Kong, 2012 (detail below)