Showing posts with label A Southern Season. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Southern Season. Show all posts

Sunday, March 1, 2009

A Demonstration of Chinese Brush Calligraphy

I had an unexpectedly pleasant Sunday.  I was expecting it to rain and sleet most of today while driving, but the nasty weather held off until I got back home.  That didn't prevent my leather shoes and pants from getting soaked, and me from getting frozen.

I went to the Ackland Art Museum in Chapel Hill because they were having an exhibit reception for a collection of Asian art (mostly Japanese and Chinese).  I didn't actually go because of the art exhibit, but I went because Jinxiu "Alice" Zhao was demonstrating Chinese brush calligraphy and painting, and Li-Ling Hsaio was playing the zheng, or Chinese zither.

I got there late, so I only heard one song by Professor Hsaio which she described as detailing the rape of a small village, which did not exactly improve my mood on the weather.  After that, Prof. Zhao sat at a small table and began to describe Chinese brush painting.  I've always liked the way that type of art looks: somewhat minimal with black ink on white rice paper and sparse coloring, but structured and flowing.  She began showing the different types of brushes used and briefly described the different weights of paper she uses along with her inks and chi related to painting.  Then, Prof. Zhao talked about the 5 main calligraphy categories.  "There are many styles, but most of them fall into the five categories."  With a smile, she said she was going to demonstrate the five different calligraphy styles by drawing the character for rain in each style which drew appreciable chuckles from the audience, most of whom were in slickers or mackintoshes.

To my untrained eye, the first four characters looked roughly the same.  The last character which was in a cursive type, was definitely different, although she pointed out that it's somewhat difficult to read that type of calligraphy.  And with that she began doing her stuff.

Her first drawing was of bamboo stalks with leaves.  Dipping her brush into water, she swirled the tip onto a splotch of ink in an inkstone until the consistency satisfied her, and then began by painting the stalks.  To these she added delicate leaves in a lighter ink by a light flicking motion with the brush.  When it was finished, she wrote several characters on the top which she said described the "noble character" of the bamboo.  And to put her mark on it, she took a small jade stamp, dipped it into red ink, and firmly pressed it onto the paper.

Her next painting was of a pine branch.  Pine, she said, is indicative of longevity, and is important to artists because of this, but I also think she was painting it for us since North Carolina is well-known for its pine trees and everyone there could relate to the image of a pine.  She drew the main branch with limbs jutting out of it, and added tiny, sharp needles to each small limb.  While waiting for it to dry, she wrote a poem underneath the painting describing moolight on a floor looking like frost.  When the painting had dried, she started painting bark on the limb.  This required a drier ink, she said, and pointed out to us the importance of keeping the brushes slightly wet so that the bristles come to a taper, and that larger brushes absorb more ink.  With the pine branch finished, she pulled a tray of watercolors closer to her and used another brush to mix several colors and ink together to get the correct green shade of the pine needles, and began coloring the needles on her painting.  Her stamp and signature were added and concluded the simple and beautiful painting.

Watching her paint and draw calligraphy was incredible and also prodded me into realizing how little I know about Eastern art.  Thankfully I had a good view of Prof. Zhao, so I could see the way she mixed her ink and drew.  But occasionally the view was interrupted by some simpering man in his 50's who reeked of old lady perfume, who couldn't be bothered to say "Excuse me," when he leaned in front of me and nearly knocked me over.  I was also gravely concerned that he was going to wet his pants when he saw the finished paintings.  But I guess each of us has a different way of expressing appreciation of art.

With her last painting finished, the demonstration ended but my mother introduced me to her.  Apparently she had one of my siblings as a student for a class, so there's no telling what stories Professor Zhao has heard about me: "Oh, my brother would like doing this calligraphy, professor but he hasn't mastered fingerpainting yet." "Aw, that's too cute! How old is your brother?" "In his mid-20's."
She referred to me as didi, but I wasn't sure if this was because my mother said I was the eldest or the youngest of my siblings.  It was nice meeting her, and I wanted to ask her so many questions about her paintings and training, her selection of inks, and what types of brushes she prefers.  I also wanted to ask her what sort of tea she likes and where she buys it along with teaware.  But, maybe it's best I didn't actually ask her about the tea.  I probably would've overwhelmed her with questions.  

Actually meeting her was short since I had to get back on the road because of the heavy rain which was supposed to turn to sleet and then snow.  On the way out of Chapel Hill I stopped by A Southern Season and noticed that they actually had gaiwans!  One highly decorative one was something I'd probably use for company, but was a little bit pricey at $14, and extremely large at 7 ounces.  I didn't consider buying it, because it was too large to actually fit into my palm and pour, and I do have pretty big hands.  The other gaiwan I spied was a simple white one that was a little bit smaller at 4 ounces, but was expensive at close to $30!  They also had a white porcelain gongfu cha set for $75 which was well beyond my price range and tastes.  I browsed the tea section and settled on "Tippy Yunnan" which was on sale.  Happy with my purchase, I stepped out of the store and braved the weather to the car to head home.


Saturday, October 25, 2008

Gourd and Vine Yixing


I picked up an yixing teapot at A Southern Season. I'd never given much thought to the details of the teapot display, since I assumed that it was really just a display and not for sale. They should consider moving it to their tea section, because the first thing people are liable to see when they walk in the door is the coffee section with its 40-some glass jars filled with different types of various coffees, and not the teapots tucked away into a wooden, partitioned wall. I walked up and down the length of the display and recognized teapots from different tea cultures and countries. I recognized yixing easily, and I recognized some of the Japanese teaware including the distinctive teapot with a handle and their cast iron kettle.
I paused to look at the ubiquitous glazed porcelain British teapots in lime and coffee-brown when I glanced upwards to find harlequin glasses with a strangely shaped teapot. I didn't recognize this, so I read the placard to find that the tea set was part of Moroccan tea culture. This jogged a dusty memory of me being in France and seeing street vendors "pulling" tea in a rather sketchy and unattractive neighborhood, where nearby a entrepreneur was roasting corn in a shopping cart that served as a grill.
I moved back to the yixing pots. I was disappointed in them. I had no reason to doubt their authenticity, but quite a few seemed to be for the sole purpose of buying them for display or for use while serving tea to guests. And, most of them were just too big for me and meant to be sold with a gongfucha ceremony set.
All of them were at least 8 ounces, most close to 10, and didn't captivate me. I did see one that I liked, a horse, but it didn't come in a small enough size for me, and if I had a well-paying job, I certainly would have purchased the fu dog yixing teapot set that I saw. But, I decided to go with the gourd and vine yixing. It's small enough for two, and simple in design compared to the others I saw. I do wish A Southern Season had smaller teapots with less whimsical designs at lower prices to be more inviting to people who are not familiar with tea in general. I think I'll probably get a smaller plain yixing when I buy more tea online to dedicate solely to shu pu'er. But for right now I'll enjoy discovering the best way to make tea with one of these.

After some more reading online, I think the clay is actually Duanni and not Zisha based on the beige and cobalt oxide hues of the teapot. And it seems there's a small crack on the bottom handle that I didn't notice before, but I think the crack is superficial and seriously doubt that it'll cause the handle to come apart.

PS I also forgot to mention that the company I bought the teapot from certifies that it is lead free and genuine yixing. I'm not sure just how many lead-laced, faux yixing pots make their way into the US market, but I figure my recommended daily value of lead should be kept to a minimum.

Visiting Chapel Hill

Friday, Lara and I went up to Chapel Hill to see KK and Sarah Lizabeth. We flapped our gums with Kristina for awhile and heard how her research was going, and then went to lunch with Sarah. After lunch, we went to A Southern Season to pick up some cheap wine and an yixing teapot for me. I found both in a roundabout way, and afterwards we headed towards supper and Late Nite with Roy. TOO BAD it was incredibly hot and lacked wattage for the sound system or else I might've enjoyed it.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Black Licorice, Sweet Licorice, Salty Licorice

So just how lucky can a guy get? A Southern Season was having its annual blowout sale, so the girlfriend and I went one day and stocked up on chocolate that was $.50 instead of $4.50. Sarah wanted to go so we took John with us and I stocked up on some imports and got licorice. Licorice is a very personal thing to me. Honestly, you can tell what kind of person you are by what type of candy you indulge in.
If you like tootsie rolls, you have a sticky-sweet personality and are easily molded by the people around you. If you like chocolate bon-bons, you lead an opulent lifestyle and enjoy gourmet. If you like dots, you probably ate paint chips and glue as a kid and look forward to chewing on fresh, new pencils. It's a fact.
But black licorice is the stuff that men are made of. Just the act of eating something black which nature has designated as a warning coloration for insects and reptiles is enough to make people pause a moment. It's strong taste lingers on, coating your mouth and throat until the point where you're no longer eating the candy. Every breath and exhale is tainted with the sharp, musky-sweet anise flavor. Every bite blackens your teeth and tongue.
"But wait a minute, that stuff is really sweet," you might cry. "How can you be extolling the masculinity of licorice when it's super sweet?"
Well, I bought three types of licorice: strong, salty, and strong&sweet. They're all Dutch made, and the Dutch's version of sweet is right up my alley. The sweet is about as sweet as a bowl of oatmeal without sugar or butter in it. You know that there's a little bit of sugar in it, but by golly, it sure as heck ain't sweet. The strong type has dustings of anise and licorice root all over it, and tastes vaguely like the scent of pine tar, which leaves a sweet aftertaste in the mouth. The salty type of licorice smells like used horse bedding and quite possibly tastes the same. Now, when the word salty is used to describe licorice, it's not one of those cutesy, deliberately misleading confectionery names like "chocolate frog," "haystacks," or "cowtail," with the "salt" on the licorice actually being sugar. They actually coat the damn thing completely in Ammonium Chloride so that it not only looks like you're eating asphalt, it tastes like it too!
So you essentially have three choices: eat licorice that tastes like pure anise root, or pine tar, OR used horse bedding/asphalt. But why would they create such seemingly (but oh so delicious) unpalatable candies?
The main reason modern society has created these is to reassure our masculinity or badass-ness. No more rites of manhood exist today: there aren't any more sundance lodges, and there aren't any sort of kingdoms you can inherit and rule. Salty, strong, and strong&sweet licorice were created to fill this power vacuum and adapted to modern culture cubicleism. In Holland, so I'm told, disputes are no longer settled by jousting or dueling. They're settled by seeing who can eat the most salty licorice washed down with coffee and those weird waffles. A typical altercation as follows:
"Oh yeah, Johnson? Oh yeah? You think I'm a whoopsy because I like cream in my coffee do you? Well, we'll just see about that! [Eats handful of salty licorice] And I didn't even make a face."
So me buying the licorice is sort of an assertion of just how masculine I really am. Because honestly, sometimes people just need to be reminded that it takes a man's man to wear a speedo at the pool. I think.
 
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