Qian Gong

, 2022, installation view, Lindy Lee: Moon in a Dew Drop John Curtin Gallery. Photographer: Sue-Lyn Aldrian-Moyle.

The Narration of the Cosmos

Qian Gong

Here is the dance of the tongue of fire Recorded in the tooth marks of burning holes Like the moonlight, sifted by the lotus leaves The trees are muttering to themselves Grinding their feelings into the growth rings One circle after another The creek changes the tunes Constantly trying her voice, Sometimes shocked by the thunder’s prompts Sometimes confused by the wind’s advice Dense raindrops, sparse raindrops

Here time has tripped over The jumbled rocks collect its messy steps Mountains, under thousands of hammer blows Extend to the distant horizon The river rubs its shadows The fog polishes the surface of the lake Ceaseless and tireless Light raindrops, heavy raindrops

Dotting stroke, shading stroke, dyeing stroke, tinting stroke Are my exclusive stunts Baking ink, breaking ink, smashing ink, amassing ink Are my everyday taiji Rosy clouds, chafed cheeks Shiny pebbles, bleached teeth Rotten stumps, crinkled arms White raindrops, black raindrops

This is my narration Too short to have a beginning Too long it never ends All laid out clearly I just invite a little vibration from you It seems that all you need is a flicker of finger on your head Which I did with the pitter-patter These raindrops, those raindrops.

Author’s note I chose to respond to Ink Rain (2020-2021), Water + Water (2020) and Raindrops on the River (2020 -2021) because although I was familiar with the techniques of traditional Chinese ink paintings, I was both surprised and pleased by Lindy’s ‘literal’ and whimsical adoption of these techniques in her works. Traditional painting techniques such as ‘wash,’ ‘bake,’ ‘smash,’ ‘break,’ etc, are supposedly done with ink and brush, but in Lindy’s three works, these are ‘left’ to be rendered by the rain, the fire, the wind, in one word, the nature. These cultivated skills are imitations of nature but need to be meticulously practised to master. However, Lindy bypassed these trained skills and let the nature do its job. This ‘withdrawal’ is yet more powerful. It is also an act of ‘translating’ traditions into modern art practices. It is extremely innovative and apocalyptic to me. The cosmos has displayed its codes clearly to human beings. All it needs is a kind of ‘awakening’ in our minds. Nature playfully flickers its fingers on our head. That is a wakening call to us. In Zen Buddhism, there is a practice of using a warning stick blow on the head to reinvigorate and awaken the meditator from the overcrowded minds. The English version of the poem is largely translation of the Chinese one.

Qian Gong is a senior lecturer at School of Education, Curtin University. Before joining academia, Qian was a journalist for a decade in the features department of a Chinese national newspaper. One of her beats was fine arts, especially traditional Chinese ink painting and calligraphy. Striving to be an expert in the field, Qian tried to learn calligraphy and failed. But the love and appreciation of arts has been always with her. This is the first time she tried to write poems, inspired by Lindy’s boldness.