写生对画家来说是再朴素不过的方式了,从我们第一次拿起画笔把眼前所见描画在纸上的时候就意味着学画入门。如果有谁拿来他幼稚的临摹品让我看,无论画得好与坏,在我心目中似乎都会产生一种莫名的冒犯感,就会认为来者是道外之人。我始终觉得写生是庄严的,它不仅是学画的一种必然途径,更是我们以心灵感受自然万物,摄魂魄于艺术的生命形式。但是当这一形式天经地义般地成为每一个学画者的被动选择和视觉认知时,便显得愈发疲倦了。照相机的取景窗似乎为我们困顿的视觉圈定了一方新奇,但由此我们心灵的疆域也被局限在这囹圄之中了。平面间的转换虽然可以衍生出多变的画面,但心灵与自然场的疏离最终板结为缺少生机的图式。 Sketching is a more naive way for the painter to draw lessons from the moment we first pick up the brush and look at the paper. If anyone brought his naive copy to me, no matter how well or badly painted it seems to me, there seems to be a sense of offensiveness in my mind that people who come outside the Tao will be considered. I always think sketch life is solemn. It is not only an inevitable way of learning to draw, but also a form of life in which we feel the natural world with the soul and the soul in the art. But as this form becomes more and more the passive choice and visual perception of every learner, it becomes more and more tired. The camera’s viewfinder seems to set a novelty on the part of our sleepy vision, but as a result, the boundaries of our mind are also trapped in it. Although the transition between the plane can be derived from the changing picture, but the alienation of the soul and the nature of the field ultimately lacks the vitality of the schema.