Painting the Dao

56 T here is no doubt in my mind that I could not have followed the creative path I have without being deeply involved in art theory. In the western art revolution, artists thought deeply about what they were doing, as did critics and other influential figures, but diverted by the excite- ment of the infinitely-expanded horizons of creativity, they all focused on isms rather than on underlying purpose. By recognising the need for a transcultural theory linking art and consciousness to what happened in that revolution, and by grasping the crucial shift of focus from product to process, with the help of my Chinese artist friends I was able to test theory against current practice. I am certain of the theory, if not yet of its authority. Integrated, theory and practice become far more powerful than the sum of their parts, and set free creative imagination as inner alchemist, granting access to a deeper reality where anything is possible and governing rules evaporate like morning mist in a thousand wilderness ravines. Everyday reality, the world of red dust as the Chinese tradition has it, has not ceased to exist, of course. It is just that I am able to transcend its constraints, recognising them as the limitations of our interpretations of a more profound reality where perception and expression are emanci- pated. James Baldwin said: ‘The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions that have been concealed by the answers.’ It is a common feeling that there is something about art, about the creative urge, the need to express vision, that carries something of vaster importance to us than we can explain. That essential ‘something’ may be beyond the reach of our intellectual languages of explanation but is rendered accessible in the alchemical wedding of theory and practice. The limitless realms of a fresh sheet of paper await. Incense smoke drifts lazily above the painting table, forming, with the slightest invisible