Seeing those photos you sent reminded me - I sold that painting on the middle right to a friend. It's a pity I've never been able to recreate it since. I followed the same procedure, same process, same paper, same layers, but when the variables come together, it just doesn't emerge with that same vitality. So traditional Chinese painting is truly mysterious - sometimes when you want to paint another identical piece, it's very difficult. If you paint deliberately, imitating the previous work, it becomes stiff and unnatural.
My best works are often happy accidents. Creating good work is very challenging - it heavily relies on that moment of sensitivity. Because with Chinese painting, ink, colors, and xuan paper, when the feeling is right and the contrasts happen to be strong, that luminosity manifests - clean, refreshing, and concise. The entire atmosphere just leaps out.
The difficulty of art lies in achieving perfect balance - not too much, not too little. Stop at just the right point, and the work is complete. That's the most remarkable thing, the best outcome. Going beyond is excessive, not reaching is inadequate.
Some paintings are created for destined collectors. I have this attachment - for a good work, I always wish for one person to properly cherish it. But if the price is too low, and I can't paint another one, it's heartbreaking - like giving away your own child. Because for someone like me, without any family or children in this world, my paintings are my only spiritual foundation. So sometimes, the inner sensitivity remains very strong.
I'm not a businessman; I have no interest in money at all, though I think about it when funds are low. But I'm not profit-driven, so these pure emotional connections still form - the inner substance exists.
These works accidentally circulated because they emerged when I first started transforming my style three years ago (actually, I began changing how I painted four years ago). Because continuing down the old path was already a dead end. Imitating others, imitating the ancients - even with teachers, even with university professors - it's ultimately imitation, meaningless. So I began my reform. This reform produced some works, but I didn't take it seriously, thinking I could casually recreate them. So about ten excellent pieces circulated at that time. Only later, when I painted again, did I realize this thing is irreproducible and cannot appear in batches. Each piece is painted with the sensitivity of that moment; if you try to chase it, that sensitivity is already gone.
So through this series of deep reflections, my artistic realm has elevated, and I've comprehended many principles about art, painting aesthetics. Many things integrate and combine. So now, if I paint a good work, it's sometimes very effortless, but this effortlessness requires finding the right moment. However, if you paint commercial works, it's very tiring. Of course, you could paint ten, eight, even a thousand of those. Different mental states. There's also the exploratory type - completely abandoning the self, starting from zero. It's a continuation, a different rule.
The photo you picked is excellent. That photo is from the Pan Tianshou Memorial Hall in Hangzhou, Zhejiang. I was visiting an exhibition that day and took the photo. There was a line of text above it, but the photo wasn't clear enough, speaking about the state of painting. Painting realms progress level by level, but sometimes what seems within reach is hard to attain in a lifetime. That's the truth. Truly engaging with art, with painting as art, is like comprehending and piercing through that barrier - like breaking through the meridians in martial arts. Only then can you reach a new realm. This point is crucial, but sometimes, without this comprehension, without this talent, one may never achieve it in this lifetime. So close, yet a thousand miles away.