Published in Boston by Shambhala Publications in 2000, The Buddha Scroll is a twenty-first century facsimile of an eighteenth-century reproduction of a twelfth-century work. This accordion-fold book folds out to replicate the 36-foot Qing dynasty scroll, painted by Ding Guanpeng ( 丁觀鵬) in 1767. Ding Guanpeng was commissioned by Emperor Gaozong of Qing to reproduce the Pictorial of Buddhist Icons, completed in 1180 by Zhang Shengwen of the Kingdom of Dali (present day Yunnan Province) after the original work was found water damaged and mismounted.
The Kingdom of Dali and it’s predecessor Nanzhao were situated between Tibet and China and encompassed many ethnic and linguistic groups. Translator Thomas Cleary, who contributed an introduction to the scroll as well as a key to the figures found in the scroll, writes that the depictions in the scroll “reflect the syncretic cultural background of its original model, representing a whole range of Buddhism … it is an unusually eclectic work of art, illustrating the continuity of the many currents that form the great ocean of Buddhism.”
元 佚名 倣錢選 梨花圖 卷|Pear Blossoms // Unidentified // After Qian Xuan (Chinese, ca. 1235–before 1307)
ca. 1280
Handscroll; ink and color on paper
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY
Poem translated:
“All alone by the veranda railing,
teardrops drenching the branches,
Although her face is unadorned,
her old charms remain;
Behind the locked gate, on a rainy night,
how she is filled with sadness.
How differently she looked bathed in golden waves
of moonlight, before the darkness fell.”
Figure 2. Liu Kunyi’s scroll (UWM Special Collections, cs000103)
Graduate Research: Chinese Scroll and Fan Work, Part 7
This week we concentrate on a calligraphic hanging scroll (Figure 2) by the late 19th-century Chinese government official Liu Kunyi (1830-1902, Figure 1) from Special Collections’ Zhou Cezong Collection of Chinese scroll and fan work.
In previous blogs, I mentioned the interchangeability between artistic style and the artist’s temperament. However, for Chinese masters, the content of the artwork should also be considered. In this scroll, the content reads:
Prune flower will invite butterfly; pile rockery will invite cloud; plant pine will invite zephyr; sow willow will invite cicada; reserve water will invite duckweed; build terrace will invite moon; grow plantain will invite rain; collect book will invite friend; and accumulate morality will invite heaven.
This scroll is executed with the gentle rhythm and measured control---the plumpness of the brush style is partly derived from the semi-cursive writing (Figure 3) of Zhao Lingzhi (1051-1134), with the artistic idiom of Su Dongpo (1037-1101) as the common progenitor. The brushstroke not only reflects the author’s leisure, buoyancy, and composure, but also matches the idyllic scenery and natural vibrancy from the text. According to Qi Gong, the great connoisseur of Chinese painting and calligraphy, it would be improper for calligraphers to use the round and majestic strokes of Yan Zhenqing (709-785) to transcribe a subtle and romantic lyric; likewise, it is objectionable to apply the graceful lines Chu Suiliang (596-658) to depict the coarse utterance of a scoundrel in a drama. Hence, the tripartite fusion within art, temperament, and content is regarded as one of the most complicated topics in Chinese art history.
Figure 3. Zhao Lingzhi ‘s calligraphy (from the Digital Archive of the National Palace Museum)
Figure 4. Detail from Figure 2
Figure 5. Mi Fu’s calligraphy (from ColBase: Integrated Collections Database of the National Institutes for Cultural Heritage, Japan)
It is important to note that apart from this leisurely gentleness, the artwork pulsates with confidence. The Flying White in Figure 4, a white discontinuous streak in the stroke created by the swift movement of the brush, indicates the author’s following of Mi Fu (1051-1107)’s style, which resembles “a swift horse cutting through an encampment (Figure 5).” This confidence is also indicative of Liu’s great success in the late Qing politics.
As the governor-general of Liang Jiang (Jiangshu, Jiangxi, and Anhui Province) and the superintendent of trade for southern ports (Duan Fang, who I mentioned in my last post, was his later successor), Liu was an most important forerunner in initiating the government-lead modernization movement at the beginning of 20th century. On July 1902, Liu and Zhang Zhidong (1837-1909), another powerful viceroy of the country, submitted three joint memorials to the throne advocating new policies in order to achieve political modernization. Though he did not problematize the issue by stipulating specific regulations to practice constitutionalism and promote human rights, his farsightedness compelled the court to make a dramatic reversal in a centuries-long system, and move toward the steady construction of a more powerful modern state.
His confidence might also be connected with his two incredible disobediences to the court: first, in the early spring 1900, he was instrumental in blocking the Empress Dowager’s scheme to depose the Guanxu Emperor---the involvement of governors in the alternations of the throne was unprecedented in Chinese modern history; secondly, on June of the same year, he openly disobeyed the Empress Dowager’s edit to exterminate all foreigners in China. Negotiating with the foreign consulates without the imprimatur from the government, he had the audacity to sabotage the court’s order and assumed responsibility to protect foreign lives and properties within his jurisprudence (Duan Fang did the same thing). His extraordinary courage protected southern China and left it unscathed from the political melee, paving the way for the later reform initiative.
View more posts from the Zhou Cezong Collection of Chinese scroll and fan work.
– Jingwei Zeng, Special Collections graduate researcher.
Hi everyone! Recently, I began working in UWM Special Collection as a graduate Art History researcher to investigate some the Chinese art scrolls and fans from the collection. Most of these works came from a donation by Professor Zhou Cezong (1916-2007) and his wife Nancy Wu.
Today I want to introduce you to one important artwork in the collection, a couplet on two scrolls (Figures 2 and 3) that was created by Kang Youwei (1858-1927, see Figure 1) during 1920s. The couplet suggests Kang’s ideology of being a scholar. Flowers and bamboo are used as metaphors for the ideal of the scholar: “Flowers and bamboos symbolize the spirit of elegance and being aloof from worldly pursuits. A status with virtue of grace and being indifferent to fame is where my heart goes to.”
As the leader of the Hundred Days’ Reform (June 11 to September 22, 1898), Kang was one of the most audacious and provocative political figures in Chinese modern history. Before the reform, Guang Xu Emperor asked several high officials negotiating with him. One of them questioned Kang’s plans by saying “how can we change everything overnight?” He replied, with great resolution and courage, “by killing several high officials, then the reforms will run out smoothly!”
Kang was a fervent patriot and constitutionalist. For the reform, he designed a very systematic plan to abolish the old systems and construct a system of modern governance. However, his radicalization ultimately led the reform to failure---the emperor was imprisoned, the leading figures were executed, and Kang was sent into long exile abroad.
In Kang’s later life, he did not continue the momentum of his reforming ambition; instead, he became a reactionary of resistance to forthcoming revolutions. When he heard about the outbreak of the Xinhai Revolution in 1911, he was “distraught,” and cursed it to be abortive. In 1917, he even joined with Zhang Xun (1854-1923) to restore the abdicated emperor. In his opinion, “the rise of the democracy would only increase the violence from the mob;” and only by “returning to the Confucian doctrines (i.e., the symbol of feudal governance)” could the country be saved from damnation.
Our UWM couplet (see Figure 2 and 3) was mounted around 80 years ago and is still in perfect condition. The brush strokes are cursive and succinct, expressing great determination and spontaneity, as if indicating Kang’s ambition to wipe out the old stereotypical practice. The second stamp in second couplet (Figure 4), which is printed upside down and reads “Spending 16 years in exile, travelling all over the world 3 times, visiting 4 continents, passing through 31 countries and walking 600 thousand miles,” is one of the most interesting stamps in the modern Chinese art history, which can also be seen as the summation of author’s controversial and legendary life.
Figure 2: UWM Special Collection (cs ooo114a), the first couplet
Figure 3: UWM Special Collection (cs ooo114b), the second couplet
Figure 4: second seal in the second couplet (cs ooo114b)
-- Jingwei Zeng, Special Collections graduate researcher
Figure 1. Zheng Xiaoxu’s Portrait (from The Mad Monarchist)
Graduate Research: Chinese Scroll and Fan Work, Part 9
This week we turn our eye to two undated couplets (Figures 2 and 3) by Chinese statesman, diplomat, and calligrapher Zheng Xiaoxu (1860-1938, Figure 1) from our Zhou Cezong Collection of Chinese scroll and fan work.
According to celebrated Chinese writer Lin Yutang (1895-1976, twice nominated for Nobel Prize in Literature), in appreciating Chinese calligraphy, “the meaning is entirely forgotten, and the lines and forms are appreciated in and for themselves.” Thus, let’s skip the literal meaning of these two couplets and just focus on their lines and structures. And hopefully, this focus will help us to date them.
Figure 2. UWM Special Collections (cs 000004)
Figure 3. UWM Special Collections (cs 000054)
In 1889, Zheng became the protégé of Weng Tonghe (1830-1904), who was Guanxu Emperor’s teacher and one of the most supportive figures of the Hundred Days’ Reform. Influenced by Weng’s artistic taste, Zheng regarded the calligraphy of Tang Dynasty calligrapher Yan Zhenqing (709-785) as a model. In one Zheng’s early calligraphic examples (Figure 4), he exhibited a distinctive, plump, and powerful stroke with a well-knit, balanced structure, which is similar to Yan’s Record of Duobao Pagoda (Figure 5, the forefather of brushwork in standard writing) written in 752. In addition, Zheng imitated Yan’s round brush by adopting “hiding” and “protecting” movement of the brush tip (according to ancient calligraphic theorist Cai Yong, calligraphers should “hide the head” and “protect the tail” of the brushstroke). However, because the turn and thrust is limited, the image is static and frontal, confined to a flat linear schema, and showing rigidity and lassitude.
Figure 4. Zheng’s Early Calligraphy (from this source)
Figure 5. Yan Zhenqing’s Record of Duobao Pagoda (from this source)
Immediately after Xinhai Revolution in 1911, Zheng spent some time in Shanghai with his boon companions such as Chen Sanli, whom I discussed in a previous post, and Shen Zengzhi, whose cursive hanging scroll is also preserved in our Zhou Cezong Collection. During this period, he maintained an eclectic interest in ancient calligraphic rubbings, such as those from stone inscriptions, epitaphs, Buddhist votive stelae, and cliff engravings created in the Han (202 BC-220 AD) and Northern Dynasties (386-581). Our first couplet in Figure 2 is the epitome of his inclusive studies of the stelae. For instance, the longest horizontal stroke of 寺 (Figure 6) presents a dramatic thinning-and-thickening brush movement, which is akin to brush style of the horizontal line in下（Figure 7) from the Stele on Ritual Implements in the Confucian Temple (Liqi Stele, dated 156 CE). According to Yang Shoujing (1839-1915), whose work is also preserved in our collection, this stele has an eccentric instability concealed in the level-headed stability; and a strict denseness hidden in the elegant sparseness. Zheng’s 寺 is the symbol of this contradictory yet complementary comment. Another example of Zheng’s cross-fertilization could be detected in the character “分” and “明” in Figure 8. The rigid 丿 in “分”, and the rugged 𠃌 in “明” can find similar genealogical traits from their counterparts in Figure 9, which is from Yang Dayan Zao Xiang Ji created around 506 AD. Here, Zheng’s previous flat schema has been transformed to some contrasting variations in a sense of two-dimensionality, bringing vitality to the works. Nevertheless, the rigidity still permeates; and ruggedness is also his Achilles’s heel, indicating a smidgen of strenuousness, which is at variance with Chinese artistic standard of naturalness.
Figure 6: Detail from Figure 2. Figure 7: From Liqi Stele (Palace Museum Collection)
Figure 8: Detail from Figure 2. Figure 9: From Yang Dayan (Harvard Collection).
From 1906 to 1907, during the excavation in the deserts of Northern China, Sir Marc Aurel Stein found a group of wooden slips with calligraphic inscriptions written around 98 BC. In 1912, his friend Édouard Émmannuel Chavannes sent the copy of these slips to Luo Zhenyu (1866-1940), whose couplet scroll in Oracle Bone script is also preserved in our Zhou Cezong Collection. Luo invited Wang Guowei (1877-1927, Liang Qichao’s friend), a great sinologist, to collate, edit, and interpret those slips, which became the famous monograph entitled Liu Sha Zhui Jian (The Lost Wooden Slips Excavated in the Flowing Sands) published in 1914.
When Zheng saw this publication, he was enchanted by the calligraphic values of these slips, as he contended that with the finding of these slips, the secrecy of calligraphy would be thoroughly revealed. Generally speaking, compared with the standardized clerical writing in Figure 7, the running or cursive characters on these slips were rendered with undulation and flexibility (see Figure 10 and 11), devoid of axial balance and austere sublimity. By turning and flicking the brush in a silent pirouette on the paper, the slip writer constantly changed in speed and direction, suggesting a strong foreshortening and movement in space. This untrammeled style significantly enlivens Zheng’s artistic idioms. In Figure 12, the slanting angle and the flaring, wavelike motion of the second horizontal stroke bears uncanny resemblance to those of the first horizontal stroke in Figure 10. The brush is fully articulated in a vivacious spontaneity, carrying a natural three-dimensionality.
(From left to right) Figure 10: From Luo Zhenyu, Liu Sha Zhui Jian, p. 65. Figure 11: From Liu Sha Zhui Jian, p. 64. Figure 12: Detail from Figure 3.
From these three works, Zheng shows his audience the evolution of his mimetic representation. For the first phrase (Figure 4), his imitation of Yan was restricted by insipid flatness and slight flexure. After 1911, his exploration to ancient stele rubbings (Figure 2) gave his works a contrasting vitality, though the rigidity still lingers. For the final phrase (Figure 3), the pristine style of the wooden slips provided him a fresh impetus to awaken his vivacity, creating organic relationship in the image.
Figure 13. Three Greek Statues (from ca. 560 BC to 480 BC)
From Wen C. Fong, Art as History: Calligraphy and Painting as One (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2014), p. 113.
The art historian E. H. Gombrich once made a similar-style comparisons for a group of ancient Greek statues (Figure 13). Naming them as the representation of the “Greek miracle” which illustrated the advancement of Western European civilization, he indicated in pictorial representation, archaic art began from restricted frontal schema, and then moved to the gradual adjustment to the natural appearances. This phenomenon can be equally applied to analyze Zheng’s work, which could be seen as his gradual accumulation of corrections due to the observation of ancient artworks.
Chinese art historian Wen C. Fong proposed the possible reason for this phenomenon. He noted that the disillusionment of the ancient literati with Chinese politics made them “turn away from the world of human affairs” and sought spiritual solace in the pursuit of artistic and literary expression. The impulse to express themselves in art led to the enlivening of Chinese art and civilization. Zheng is the exemplar of this explanation. He was once a most celebrated constitutionalist in the late Qing. After 1911, he lived in Shanghai as a loyalist to the defunct Qing Dynasty until February 1924, when he went to the Forbidden City to serve as a trusted advisor to Puyi (the last Chinese emperor, 1906-1967). Within these thirteen years, he became disillusioned with politics, and began to regard art as his safety valve, thereby pushing the boundaries of his artistic practices.
From these analyses, we can hypothesize that these two couplets in Special Collections were created during the same period of time (1911-1924). Figure 2 was created first, foretelling the coming of the more mature style in Figure 3. Most importantly, these analyses give us a good example to see how the student and scholar of Chinese calligraphy may use brushstroke and structure as evidence to evaluate, authenticate, and date artworks.
After Puyi and Zheng were evicted from the palace in November 1924, they settled in the Japanese concession of Tianjin. In 1931, under Zheng’s arrangement, Puyi went to Manchuria and became the leader of the Manchurian state, Manchukuo. Zheng became the regime’s Prime Minister with Japanese support. This collaboration with the Japanese tarnished the reputation of Zheng’s previous political and artistic achievements.
– Jingwei Zeng, Special Collections graduate researcher.
Graduate Research:
Chinese Scroll and Fan Work, Part 3
This week I am featuring a two-scroll couplet (figures 2 & 3) by the Chinese politician and master calligrapher Liang Qichao (1873-1929, see Figure 1). The couplet was mounted around 80 years ago, and is still in great condition. It is also one of the largest couplets in our Zhou Cezong Collection. Liang was an eminent calligrapher in modern Chinese history. For him, an important element of the arts was to express one’s disposition and personality, which was indeed resonant with his political principles. The characters were created in a sublime and fastidious fashion with evenly-divided space, which were the embodiments of Chinese standard writings, symbolizing his upright personality. Plus, in the center of a few characters, there were some barely visible X-shaped creases to help him organize his strokes along the axis and diagonal. This tiny detail is also the telling evidence of Liang’s rigor and thoughtfulness.
During the summer 1903, Liang Qichao, the second leading figure in Hundred Days’ Reform (1898), met U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt and Secretary of State John Hay in Washington. At that time, Liang was a wanted fugitive of the Qing court and by this time had spent five years in exile. During their tete-a-tete, John Hay prophesied that China was destined to be a great power, which has come to fruition in the past few years. It is important to note that John Hay’s clairvoyance was not ungrounded; instead, it was based on, at least partially, the unremitting efforts from Liang and his followers.
Before the Hundred Days’ Reform, Liang fervently promulgated the influence of Kang Youwei (1858-1927) in Shiwubao (Times News). However, after the reform was aborted, he developed a relationship with the revolutionary leader Sun Yat-sen and became acutely aware of the importance of democratization, and became the chief spokesman for the constitutionalists. Therefore, when Kang was still engaged in saving the monarchy, Liang publicly asked him to retire. In only a few short years, Liang made a radical turn-about by converting from Kang’s staunch acolyte to a vehement dissident. This kind of ideological reversal became a common feature of Liang’s political life. When asked about this predilection for change, he said “these turn-abouts were not driven by any personal interest or impetuosity; instead, they were always coherent with my ideology to be a patriot and save my country.” According to Chinese history scholar Joseph Levenson, Liang’s shifting positions can be explained as fluid adjustments to ever-changing external situations based on his own fixed internal conviction. Thus, Liang could be seen as a political iconoclast who refused to comply with convention, and followed his own disposition and choice.
On March 1927, in the same year that this couplet was produced, Liang’s mentor Kang passed away; later in June, Liang’s soul mate Wang Guowei (1877-1927) drowned himself in the Summer Palace. Two years later, Liang himself was dead at the age of 55. The text of the couplet reads: “spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums will keep their essence in perpetuity. However, our life is just like the bright moon and the white dew, which will vanish in a trice,” and may reflect his lamentation at the death of his boon companions.
Figure 2. UWM Special Collection (cs 000008a): the first couplet
Figure 3. UWM Special Collection (cs 000008b): the second couplet
View more posts from the Zhou Cezong Collection of Chinese scroll and fan work.
– Jingwei Zeng, Special Collections graduate researcher
Figure 1. Statue of Yan Xiu in Nankai school in Tianjin, China (Photo by Fanghong).
Figure 2. Calligraphic couplet by Yan Xiu, UWM Special Collections (cs 000017).
Graduate Research: Chinese Scroll and Fan Work, Part 8
This week we focus on an important Chinese calligraphic treatise and on an interesting dichotomy in Chinese art relating to the couplet shown above (Figure 2) by noted Chinese educator and co-founder of Nankai University Yan Xiu (1860-1929, Figure 1) from our Zhou Cezong Collection of Chinese scroll and fan work. The couplet reads:
A copy of Wang Xizhi’s “Huang Ting Jing” (a copy of Wang’s calligraphic writing) is what I like to emulate. “Biyu”(an ancient musical composition)-like melody is what I usually play in my place. I strive to read various books including very valuable imperial collection. Orthodoxy of Confucianism is the principle I inherit and strictly follow.
In the fourth century, Wei Shuo (272-349), the teacher of Wang Xizhi (303-361, the most famous calligrapher in Chinese history), illuminated seven seminal strokes of calligraphy (Figure 3, see from right to left) in her treatise Diagram of the Battle Array of Brush (translated also as The Picture of Ink Brush):
First Stroke 一 ---Like a line of clouds stretching a thousand miles, indistinct yet tangible.
Second Stroke 、---Like a rock falling from a peak, pounding yet crumbling.
Third Stroke丿---Clean-cut like (the horn of) a rhinoceros and (the tusk of ) an elephant.
Fourth Stroke ㇂---A shot from a crossbow which has one hundred Jun (15 kilograms) in strength.
Fifth Stroke ∣ ---Old vine ten thousand years of age.
Sixth Stroke ㇏--- Breaking wave and rumbling thunder.
Seventh Stroke 𠃌 --- Sinew and joints of a strong crossbow.
Figure 3. Wei Shuo’s Diagram of the Battle Array of Brush, from Lucy Driscoll and Kenji Toda, Chinese Calligraphy (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1935), pp. 41-46.
The brushstrokes from Yan Xiu’s couplet align with the key features of these seven key strokes. They look impregnable and sublime, as if representing troops arrayed for battle, generating an aura of power and uprightness.
Yan’s brush style seems influenced by that of Huang Tingjian (1045-1105), as can be seen in Huang’s Scroll for Zhang Datong. For instance, for the character “書,” Yan (Figure 4: Left) and Huang (Figure 4: Right) commonly conveyed a sense of foreboding compactness and deliberate poise. This common feature indicates both of them had a great understanding of the ancient artistic principles. However, there is one striking difference between these two figures; and this difference reveals an intriguing dichotomy in Chinese art.
Figure 4. Left: Yan’s character from Figure 2; Right: Huang Tingjian’s Scroll for Zhang Datong
As one of the most celebrated calligraphers of the Song Dynasty (960-1279), Huang disliked the formality and sophistication of some ancient arts. Instead, he stressed asymmetry, irregularity, and spontaneity in his creation while maintaining a dynamic equilibrium for the whole. In Figure 4 (Right), the first horizontal stroke (as well as the top of the central vertical stroke) breaks the balance of the composition by pushing the character to the top right. Next, the intensity of the second horizontal stroke pulls the dynamism of the word back to the left. The third and fifth horizontal strokes also contribute to this counterbalance by the alterations of their width and angle. Finally, the slim vertical line down to the left is overshadowed by the powerful counterpart to the right, thereby moving the axis to the right again. Here, Huang created an S curvature throughout the word, which is analogous to the contrapposto effect in Michelangelo’s statue of David---although the individual parts lean to different directions, the overall structure maintains an equilibrium. On the contrary, for Yan’s work in Figure 4 (Left), the composition and strokes seem to be uniform and sophisticated with very few contrasting and complementary elements. Bordering on rigidity, his brush was likely to be premediated in a careful plan; and he was faithful in carrying out this plan.
Chinese landscape painting has also undergone a similar dichotomy between dramatic exaggeration and rigid unification. For example, in his famous painting Early Spring, one of the most acclaimed Chinese artists Guo Xi (1020-1090) adopted the same curvilinear undulation and dramatic interpenetration. The landscape, which is depicted by the thickening-and-thinning strokes, emerges and recedes in a dragon-shape composition, indicating not only the rich variety of the scenes, but also a vison of the cosmos and the tension of psychology.
However, art by an orthodox painter, such as Wang Shimin (1592-1680) in the early Qing court, displays a kind of monotony and rigidity. In his The Serenity and Joviality on Pine Cliff, Wang applied similar textual strokes and stippled effect to the whole composition, without any interplay between disequilibrium and equilibrium.
The difference between Song Dynasty vividness and Qing’s rigidity is largely due to political factors. The five capable and enlightened emperors of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127) helped to establish an unrivaled cultural and artistic renaissance. By contrast, in Qing Dynasty (1636-1912), under the tight grip of ideology, any aesthetic deviation from the central principles would be regarded as revolution. Therefore, artists had to pander to the tastes of the emperor by following the specific formulas. Gradually, they got themselves into a rut, as a deadening pall would descend upon their creativities. Yan was a high official in the Qing court, so he was inevitably the victim of this stultifying uniformity.
Yan was the most important figure in the modernization of Chinese education, and is regarded as the founding father of Nankai University. In 1902, his trip to Japan culminated in numerous constructions of modern schools (almost at the same time Zhang Jian, whom I discussed in a previous post, promoted education in the southern part of China, so they won laurels as “North Yan, South Zhang”). In 1905, under Yan’s suggestion, the court terminated the imperial examinations, and Yan became the first vice-minister of the Ministry of Education. Under his leadership, the modern Chinese educational system was established. He was assisted by Zhang Yuanji, who I also discussed in a previous post, and Luo Zhenyu, whose couplet scroll in Oracle Bone script is also preserved in our Zhou Cezong Collection.
In 1920, Nankai University student Zhou Enlai (1898-1976, the first premier of the People’s Republic of China) was arrested by the government and later was dismissed from the school for his leadership in a student campaign. Yan created an ad hoc scholarship, and sent Zhou to study in Europe. When he learned that Zhou had become a Communist member in France, he still continued to support the latter’s education because he said “literati should be allowed to have diverse ambitions.”
View more posts from the Zhou Cezong Collection of Chinese scroll and fan work.
– Jingwei Zeng, Special Collections graduate researcher.
