Art Hangup

I'm taking the day off today from blogging—well, sort of. We picked up our artwork from the framers yesterday, and today we will be hanging it.

While we were at the framers, I picked up some prefab frames so I could hang a few other pieces that have been moldering (or at least languishing) for twenty years or more, usually in envelopes tucked in drawers (folded-up calligraphy and rubbings on thin rice paper).

One reason among many for the sudden attention to this lost art is that I wanted to cover this electrical box in the living room.

This Naxi Dongba pictographic calligraphy from Yunnan Province seemed to be the right size. I probably should have taken the time to press the wrinkles from the rice paper, but I wanted to hang it NOW.

By the way, any suggestions for removing these folding creases would be highly appreciated (Logan, Phillip, Erica?).

This the 3x7 inch envelope in which the calligraphy resided for almost twenty years. Conveniently, it gives me the name of the addressee (middle left) of this 1977 letter, my calligrapher, Mr. Lu Shaokang (吕少康).

I bought this piece in 1993 while studying in China on a National Endowment for the Humanities fellowship. I skipped out the program a little early so that I might have time for the 60-hour train ride to Yunnan Province and a few days to explore. My excuse was that I had to return home because of the flooding in Des Moines. True, and yet I had to travel first; how better but at the expense of class time.

This calligraphy was painted by a local Chinese expert on the Naxi culture, the afore-mentioned Mr. Lu Shaokang (吕少康). Mr Lu was an octo-nanagenarian who lived in a beautiful old peg-framed house five times his age, in Lijiang Old Town. The delicate rice paper is torn in a couple of places, and slightly stained from the leaky roof tiles in his studio apartment, which was crammed floor to ceiling with books and art, and his other, meagre belongings.

Tucked in the bottom right is the note that Mr. Lu gave me with the calligraphy. Patty says I should probably have it framed separately, and I will if I can ever find the time.

This accompanying note, written in Mr. Liu's clear hand (he was quite the student of English), gives both literal and figurative translations of the graphs. Also, barely visibly written in pencil at the bottom of this note is the asking price: ¥80 (at the time about nine bucks). While I usually would bargain a price down in China, if for no other reason than to save face, I couldn't bear to dicker with this elegant old scholar, and would gladly have given him more.


Check back next week for the unveiling of the art and the apartment.