111 - After 劉辰旦 and 28 Days Later

If you visit Kaohsiung's Museum of History this week then you'll see an exhibition of ink wash painting and calligraphy from Liu Chen-dan (劉辰旦). Liu is a former inmate of the controversial and now defunct Jingmei Detention Center and it was while imprisoned there under the charge of treason that he taught himself the skills that are presently on display at the museum. During his 15 year imprisonment, Liu had great cause to feel despair, but the messages he conveyed at that time, and which are collected in the exhibition, are undeniably hopeful.

One painting he produced while in prison shows a man drawing a circle around himself, above which Liu has written 畫地自限, a Chinese idiom which literally means draw a line on the ground to stay within, the message being that we create the limits we live with. It seems that while living in a cell Liu managed to liberate himself through his artistic pursuits. Ideally, regardless of the constraints under which we live we can find true freedom.

Also displayed in the exhibition is a letter that Liu sent to his wife, in which he included, written large in cursive script, the apparently original phrase 大地無情, 你我有愛, which means in a world without feeling, we have our love.

Since we always view whatever we see through the prism of our past experience, it is perhaps helpful to point out that I attended the exhibition the day after watching the British horror movie 28 Days Later, in which two survivors of an epidemic that has obliterated all social order find solace in one another's company, sharing the sense that as long as they have each other then they can avoid being overwhelmed by the chaos and misery that surrounds them. For me the message of both Danny Boyle's film and Liu Chen-dan's piece of calligraphy is that love, or at least companionship, enables us to overcome any evil circumstances we might encounter. Our relationships with our friends and family are to be treasured, especially when we face hardships.

I find it inspirational that a jailed man was able to maintain such a positive outlook. His enlightened message has still more resonance because of the skill and feeling with which he expresses it. Yet I think that even in ordinary circumstances, and without remarkable means of expression, it's worthwhile to consider these two ideas: restrictions are merely self-imposed and togetherness helps us overcome suffering.

Here are a couple of examples of Liu's artwork:

莊周夢蝶

The print above depicts the best known dream in Chinese philosophy, which was recorded as follows:

"Zhuang Zhou dreamed that he was a butterfly, flying about enjoying itself. It did not know that it was Zhuang Zhou. In fact, it did not know whether it was Zhuang Zhou dreaming that he was a butterfly, or whether it was the butterfly dreaming that it was Zhuang Zhou. Suddenly he awoke, and was clearly Zhuang Zhou again. Between Zhuang Zhou and the butterfly there must be some distinction. This is a case of what is called the transformation of things."

The author of this passage, Zhuangzi, lived during the 4th century BC. The book that bears his name expounds a skeptical philosophy, in which life is limited, but knowledge has no limits. He has been called the greatest Taoist after Laozi, as well as the 'first anarchist', on account of his assertion that "Good order results spontaneously when things are left alone".

The dream has been interpreted in diverse ways. Most appealing to me personally is the interpretation that objects have no absolute representation, but rather appear differently under different states of consciousness.