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  • Chinese Paintings at the National Library
  • Walter Benjamin
    Translated by Briankle G. Chang

Translator's Preface

It is not necessary to be able to read something in order to appreciate it.

—Maxwell Hearn

Benjamin wrote "Peintures chinoises à la Bibliothèque Nationale" ("Chinese Paintings at the National Library") in late 1937 after visiting an exhibit in Paris, where he was living in exile. It was published in January 1938 in Europe: Revue littéraire mensuelle (a monthly literary magazine founded in 1923 by Romain Rolland and his circle; Benjamin 1938). In this short review essay, Benjamin mentions a few ideas that, as he rightly suggested, are central to the art of painting in China, including xieyi 寫意 (painting of ideas, peinture d'idée) and "ink games," a term he borrowed from the Chinese [End Page 185] scholar Lin Yutang. It may be helpful to briefly discuss these two related ideas before trying to learn what Benjamin had in mind when he wrote the piece.

In the Chinese tradition, viewing a painting is often described by the term duhua 讀畫 (to read a painting). The aim of this reading, well recognized by scholar-artists and laypersons alike, is to relive or reexperience the flow of qi 氣 (energy, life force, or spirit) that was first captured by the painter through abbreviated monochrome brushstrokes. In this lies the intimate relationship, characteristic of Chinese painting and, indeed, art writ large in China, among writing/calligraphy (shuxie 書寫), painting (huihua 繪畫), and nature (ziran 自然), the first two being extensions of the last, their common source, anchor, and material (mater, mother). To "paint" is thus to bear witness to nature's becoming in expression, to capture and document its very vibrancy as it breathes life into things and becomes manifest as phenomena and, through this vibration, guides the hand in its movement across paper, silk, or any other surface.

In keeping with and inseparable from this gesture, to "read" a painting, in which nature's vibrancy is momentarily arrested and made visible by ink and brush, is to look at the painted jingjie 境界 (scene) so as to allow the qi at work to come forth and linger in one's meditative mind, albeit for a brief moment. To "read" a painting is therefore to enter into a dialogue that the painter has had with nature. Seen in this light, to "read" a painting is also to "write" it, one process echoing the other as all but indistinguishable aspects of one continuous event that is called "painting." Painting takes place as a unique experience, one of selfless engagement with a past as well as with one's own present, facilitated, from the beholder's point of view, by the subtle ways of unrolling a scroll, leafing through an album, or other ritualistic activities performed either alone or with kindred spirits. In the Chinese artistic tradition, xieyi 寫意 (writing ideas/mind) and jieyi 解意 (deciphering ideas/mind) merge, collapsing headlong into nature, or the Way, as the ancient sages first called it. Looking at a painting, the viewer moves toward it, enters the painted scene, and disappears within it.

If the language of art is its style, the style of Chinese art is written literally by the supple-tipped brush, which is used for both writing and painting. The Chineseness of Chinese paintings can be found most readily in the [End Page 186] expressive power of the brushwork. On paper or on silk, the lines or figures traced by the brush dipped in ink render visible what may be called the "ink aesthetics," by virtue of which works of all grades in the long tradition of Chinese art can be seen to bear more than family resemblances.

Contemporary Western audiences, having been exposed to conceptual art, most notably abstract expressionism, would have little difficulty in appreciating the masterpieces Benjamin saw at the Bibliothèque Nationale. The idioms of modern art, such as dynamic figure-ground relationships, contrasts of positive and negative lines and spaces, and, indeed, all the antifigurative techniques based on subconscious, spontaneous movements, cross over easily and wonderfully to the surface of a Chinese masterwork. Given the dearth of Benjamin's writings on Chinese and East Asian art, however, it is not...

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