I had an unexpected but wonderful experience last week at Harcourt House Gallery in my neighbourhood.
Cui Jinzhe, a Chinese artist now based in Edmonton, had an exhibit there called
The 36 Days I Roam. It showcased her work in watercolours, acrylics, calligraphy, ink, and ceramics. The gallery newsletter noted that the artist, who has taken a year-long vow of silence as part of her spiritual practice, would give a live performance of her art each afternoon. The accompanying photo showed her in action --
But something different happened. What Cui Jinzhe surprised me with was an interactive poetry and art experience. Using hand gestures, she invited me to sit across from her, cross-legged at a small low table. I demurred politely. Suddenly she got up, ran off to another room and returned with a folding chair.
"Oh yes," I laughed, "I AM much too old to sit on the floor!"
Well, now I was committed. So I sat down and she commenced, communicating via pre-printed placards in a book. We did some brief relaxation exercises (which I recognized from Qi Gong/Tai Chi) and then she gave me a small dish of black ink and a calligraphy brush. I was to write a poem on a large paper folio and then recite it. Here is what I wrote:
Tense & uncertain
But curious
Be brave --
It appears there are two loopholes to a vow of silence. Singing and chanting are allowed. So Cui Jinzhe sang my poem aloud while she played beautiful music on a
kalimba. Then she sang effusive praise for it. All very nice.
I didn't say this to her but quite frankly, as a lawyer, I do always appreciate the beauty and usefulness of a good loophole.
Then I was instructed via placard to draw an illustration for my poem. Trying to be, like, spiritual, I drew a large, wonky spiral. Attempting to salvage it, I painted two smaller spirals inside it. Now it just looked like a face with zonked-out stoner eyes and a big kiss curl. So I painted a tiny little smile onto it and called it a day.
Cui Jinzhe offered much praise for that too, along with some melodic harmonies from her
Tibetan singing bowl. Then we shared a nice hug and a photo op to immortalize the moment. Here we are:
I actually did enjoy this interactive experience very much. It is clear to me that the art which Cui Jinzhe was making in this encounter was the art of creating emotional connection between two beings. She was very good at that, despite the vow of silence -- or perhaps because of it.
Her final gift was given as I left the gallery. She donned a mask and drummed very beautifully with a drumstick on a handheld hoop drum. Her drum was similar to
my own drum from my drumming circle days, but hers was black and had a drum head of synthetic material, not animal skin like mine, which makes sense from a Buddhist perspective. Cui Jinzhe's drumming effectively created another level of connection between us.
[All photos are from the Harcourt House Gallery newsletter, except for the photo op shot]
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This post is also being linked to
Sunday in the Art Room
HERE
