Utställningstext

FOREWORD
Harry Martinson (1904 - 1978) is best known as an author and Nobel Prize winner.
Few are aware, however, that he also opened the door to a deeper understanding
of Chinese art and philosophies with his poems and prose about Chinese culture.
In Kinesisk konst - en konstbok från Nationalmuseum (Chinese Art – an Art Book from
the National Museum) published in 1959, the author has two articles. ”Kuo Hsi beskriver
lotusmålning” (Kuo Hsi describes painting lotus) is a poem published for the first time
in the book. ”Meditation inför en kinesisk målning” (Meditation on a Chinese painting) is
a prose describing what the author saw in a Chinese painting of two gibbons.
This exhibition shows the gibbon painting once studied by Harry Martinson and in front
of which he meditated. Using a number of paintings in the museum collections, combined
with the author’s writings, we aim to highlight his links with Chinese art and philosophy
and provide an insight into his ideas, in which different cultures come together.
Dr. Si Han
Curator

KUO HSI DESCRIBES PAINTING LOTUS
In order to correctly paint a lotus leaf stirred by the wind
you must walk often and slowly around the pond
until you have learned all the different movements of the leaf with the wind.
You have to dedicate many windy days to these studies
and, each time you come home,
recall them to your memory and practice
In the third year, after countless practices,
– during which you must be on guard
against death and empty skills –
you must burn all your sketches
and start from scratch
this time practising with headwinds.
If you succeeded with the sketches your burned
and if you have made any real progress
you shall by the fourth year have captured
all types of winds in the palm of your hand
and you will have the lotus leaf in your soul

WHO IS KUO HSI (GUO XI 郭熙1000-1087)?
Guo Xi (Kuo Hsi 郭熙 ca.1000-1087) is one of the most famous landscape painters from
the Song Dynasty, and is a very influential figure in Chinese art history. In the essay
entitled Linquan Gaozhi (The Lofty Message of Forests and Streams), written down
by his son, Guo Xi describes his views on painting technique and the art of painting.
A translation of the essay is available in publications such as Chinese Paintings vol. 1
from 1967 by the Finnish-born Swedish art historian Osvald Sirén, who also contributed
to the book Kinesisk konst (Chinese Art) in which this poem by Martinson was published.
However, Guo Xi does not make one single mention of the lotus in his text Martinson’s
poem about how Guo Xi paints the lotus should be seen as the poet’s free interpretation
of the creative process in Chinese painting. An interplay between words and images, a
stream of interpretation and re-interpretation, a dialogue between a Swedish author and
a Song Dynasty artist.

ABOUT THE DEW AND DEW DROP
Harry Martinson was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1974 “For writings that
catch the dewdrop and reflect the cosmos”.
In his “Meditation on a Chinese painting” from 1959, a short text written more than 25
years before the Nobel Prize, he made frequent use of words such as “dew” and “dewy”.
For Harry Martinson, catching the dewdrop was to capture timelessness – an ambition all
artists and poets should have, according to the author. Western art has lost the “dewy”, but
Chinese art has retained timelessness.
“The fight for this narrow period of time, that which is topical, has come to the
foreground in Western culture. This is our culture and there is, perhaps, not much we
can do about it. But just as dew in nature is dew and freshness, without this implying that
anyone would think of calling it dew of the moment, dew in art is also timeless where it
exists and is unobstructed by any dates. It can be found in both ancient and more modern
art. Certain artists are fonder of dew than others. These are mainly painters and poets.
And perhaps it is primarily this timelessness of dew that we can silently learn from Chinese
art. The Chinese painters strived to be as close as possible to dew, even when drawing the
branches of artificiality.”

HARRY MARTINSON: MEDITATION ON A CHINESE PAINTING
For me, this painting by I Yüan-chi is like a poetic thawing wind, which has just arrived and
is starting to blow over the soul’s frozen landscape.
There is always something within us that has been frozen and besieged by winter. In
nature, ice is water in cramp. And for the ancient people of the Song Dynasty, there were
no boundaries between nature and the soul. When I Yüan-chi observed nature, he was
looking into the very soul – not in the way you peek into a house or an alleyway, but
outwards, where landscape and soul unite and live together in the space, freely open.
The soul was not locked away in some sacred box and there was no “philosopher’s stone”.
The soul was a brand-new morning and wisdom was the art of liberty. Insight was not the
same as having broken so many clues or having cut Gordian knots. Insight was outlook,
space was soul.
In such a painting, mist and steam played a major role. They enshrouded a tree or a cliff,
with no boundaries. A mist rolling up from a valley was an expression of a transformation
of the soul in the scenery. The mist was not a symbol of stupidity, narrow-mindedness or
obscurity, as it has become for those of us who love to use such images of nature when we
want to be malicious and witty. We like to show off our wit. We have had our fair number
of flashy showmen in the West. Spiritual showmanship has become a mannerism for us, a
goal in itself, an art of wandering from one set of applause to the next.
Chinese art is not overwhelming. It does not force its way into your mind. It enters as
a breath. And as it flows with our breaths, you find yourself transformed and become a
valley, thawed by the wind of art.
How remote, how foreign would much of Western art be for the Song Dynasty artists?
They would feel as if they were standing in front of a closed, painted door, rather than in
front of pictures that open up and become the air you breathe.
In the art of the West, we have adhered so much to ineffective regulations, have produced
so many cramped works that have been called art, that we often forget that the nature of
art as such is to express in a painted scenery freedom, currents and thawing, not adherence
to form, imprisonment and frost.
In one way, the Chinese artists had the benefit of the Chinese approach to the concept of
time. The Chinese culture was a culture with no stringent fixation on time. For although
it had its periods of style, as with in Europe, timelessness became a much more different
part of the scene than with our Western cultures. This liberated them from the constraints
of going through the obligatory generation rebellion for Westerners or performing a new
universe every decade.
The fight for this narrow period of time, that which is topical, has come to the foreground
in Western culture. This is our culture and there is, perhaps, not much we can do about it.
But just as dew in nature is dew and freshness, without this implying that anyone would
think of calling it dew of the moment, dew in art is also timeless where it exists and is
unobstructed by any dates. It can be found in both ancient and more modern art. Certain
artists are fonder of dew than others. These are mainly painters and poets.
And perhaps it is primarily this timelessness of dew that we can silently learn from Chinese
art. The Chinese painters strived to be as close as possible to dew, even when drawing the
branches of artificiality.
From: Kinesisk konst - en konstbok från Nationalmuseum
(Chinese Art – an Art Book from the National Museum) 1959

ABOUT NATURE
One way of gaining an understanding of the Chinese perspective on nature and human
relations with nature is to study landscape paintings – in which humans are often small
and the cosmos is grandiose. Nature is just as important for Martinson’s writings as for
Guo Xi’s paintings. Both expressed their views on why nature means so much for humans.
“It never fails to fascinate, and you never tire of what fascinates you
Well, what could you possibly tire of in nature? There are very few
things in nature that are tiresome – even the houseflies that return
every year bring a new message.
It is true that, at times, everything can become tiresome for a while,
but the interest always returns and nature will always be there for
our philosophical meditation. It is in such moments that we
once again search for the right words to give justice to nature.
Harry Martinson, ”Semesterbrev” (Holiday letter),
Feature articles SVD, 1941.04.28.

“People are becoming pure and nature dirty: this is how far we
have come. We do not, in this age of prosperity, have the means
to keep nature itself clean.”
Harry Martinson, Röster i Radio-TV
(Swedish radio programme) no. 35 1961.

Why do superior men love landscape, what is the reason for it? Hills and gardens are
constant dwelling-places for one who seeks to cultivate his original nature; springs
and rocks are the constant joy for the whistling rambler; fishing and wood-gathering
are the constant occupations for the hermit and the recluse; the ape and the crane are
constantly viewed by those who want to fly and to call. Bridles and fetters in the din of
the world are always repugnant to human nature, while Sages and Immortals in the haze
and mist are what human nature yearns for but cannot reach.

Guo Xi "Comments on landscape". Translation by Osvald Sirén, Chinese Painting, vol 1 1967:220

MARTINSON THE BUDDHIST
Many years ago, I was sitting in the University library in Gothenburg and searching for
old texts about Chinese art written by Swedish authors. This is when I came across the
name Harry Martinson, but had no idea who he was. His text captured my attention and
I was so happy to have found a Swedish author whose language and ideas, even those
between the lines, were so “Chinese”. My initial thought was that this person must have
read a lot about Daoism or Buddhism. It was not until many years later that my thought
was confirmed. The following quotation is from an interview with Martinson on radio
programme Röster i Radio-TV no. 35 196.
“I write the way I write because I am a Buddhist. Not religiously, but morally and
philosophically. Christianity tells us, for example, not to take God’s name in vain. Buddhism,
however, provides us with rules for how to express ourselves, how to communicate with
our fellow humans.”
“From memory, he quotes a Buddhist sutra:
If something is harmful and of no value, do not say it.
If something is harmful but is of value, say it with doubt.
If something is not harmful but is not of value, say it with doubt.
If something is not harmful but is of value, always say it.”
“It has not been understood that I have always very much been Asian: I can smile and hate
at the same time”
“When the car started, he bent down to the half-open window and smiled. A Buddhist,
calm and good. And then he disappeared.”

FROM: Radio programme, Röster i Radio-TV no. 35 1961, 26 Aug – 2 Sept
pg. 6–9, & cont. on pg. 44

“People are becoming pure and natur dirty:
this is how far we have come. We do not, in
this age of prosperity, have the means to keep nature itself clean.”

Indian ink and colours on paper. NMG-1927-0859. Detail.
ABOUT NATURE
One way of gaining an understanding of the Chinese perspective on nature and human
relations with nature is to study landscape paintings – in which humans are often small
and the cosmos is grandiose. Nature is just as important for Martinson’s writings as for
Guo Xi’s paintings. Both expressed their views on why nature means so much for humans.
“It never fails to fascinate, and you never tire of what fascinates you
Well, what could you possibly tire of in nature? There are very few
things in nature that are tiresome – even the houseflies that return
every year bring a new message.
It is true that, at times, everything can become tiresome for a while,
but the interest always returns and nature will always be there for
our philosophical meditation. It is in such moments that we
once again search for the right words to give justice to nature.
Harry Martinson, ”Semesterbrev” (Holiday letter),
Feature articles SVD, 1941.04.28.
“People are becoming pure and nature dirty: this is how far we
have come. We do not, in this age of prosperity, have the means
to keep nature itself clean.”
Harry Martinson, Röster i Radio-TV
(Swedish radio programme) no. 35 1961.
Why do superior men love landscape, what is the reason for it? Hills and gardens are
constant dwelling-places for one who seeks to cultivate his original nature; springs
and rocks are the constant joy for the whistling rambler; fishing and wood-gathering
are the constant occupations for the hermit and the recluse; the ape and the crane are
constantly viewed by those who want to fly and to call. Bridles and fetters in the din of
the world are always repugnant to human nature, while Sages and Immortals in the haze
and mist are what human nature yearns for but cannot reach.
MARTINSON THE BUDDHIST
Many years ago, I was sitting in the University library in Gothenburg and searching for
old texts about Chinese art written by Swedish authors. This is when I came across the
name Harry Martinson, but had no idea who he was. His text captured my attention and
I was so happy to have found a Swedish author whose language and ideas, even those
between the lines, were so “Chinese”. My initial thought was that this person must have
read a lot about Daoism or Buddhism. It was not until many years later that my thought
was confirmed. The following quotation is from an interview with Martinson on radio
programme Röster i Radio-TV no. 35 196.
“I write the way I write because I am a Buddhist. Not religiously, but morally and
philosophically. Christianity tells us, for example, not to take God’s name in vain. Buddhism,
however, provides us with rules for how to express ourselves, how to communicate with
our fellow humans.”
“From memory, he quotes a Buddhist sutra:
If something is harmful and of no value, do not say it.
If something is harmful but is of value, say it with doubt.
If something is not harmful but is not of value, say it with doubt.
If something is not harmful but is of value, always say it.”
“It has not been understood that I have always very much been Asian: I can smile and hate
at the same time”
“When the car started, he bent down to the half-open window and smiled. A Buddhist,
calm and good. And then he disappeared.”
“People are becoming
pure and natur dirty:
this is how far we have
come. We do not, in
this age of prosperity,
have the means to keep
nature itself clean.”
Bodhisattva Wenshu, Wang Guan 王瓘. 8th century.
Indian ink and colours on paper. NMOK-226. Detail.
Guo Xi, ”Comments on landscape”, Linquan Gaozhi (The Lofty Message of Forests
and Streams), 12th century. Translation by Osvald Sirén, Chinese Painting, vol 1, 1967,
pg .220.
FROM: Radio programme, Röster i Radio-TV no. 35 1961, 26 Aug – 2 Sept
pg. 6–9, & cont. on pg. 44.
River landscape inspired by the famous Song Dynasty painter Guo Xi. Zhu Duan 朱端
(ca. 1506-22). Indian ink on silk. NMOK-264. Detail.

WE ARE CHINESE, INEZ!
Harry Martinson had never visited China, despite his obvious interest in Chinese art, history
and philosophy. In poems such as “Li Kan talar under trädet” (Li Kan speaking beneath
the tree), “Li Kan uttalar sig om tuppar” (Li Kan on cockerels) and “Li Ti’s råd” (Li Ti’s
advice), several Chinese persons speak to the poet. In Tre knivar från Wei (Three Knives
from Wei), a stage play that premièred at Dramaten theatre in 1964 and was directed by
Ingmar Bergman, Martinson takes us back in time to China under the Tang Dynasty in
the 7th century, to a place where women were sent when they had been banished from
the court of the Empress.
Some of Martinson’s most well-known works, such as Aniara and Nässlorna blomma
(Flowering Nettles) have been translated to Chinese by Chen Maiping, and attracted
major attention in China. Maiping also made note of little Harry’s “first contact” with
China in his self-biography Nässlorna blomma (Flowering Nettles):
“It was for this reason that Martin was called the ‘little Chinaman’. For what else could they
call such a strange young boy, whose parents had moved into the ‘Yellow Peril’? This was
the first time in his life that Martin was bullied by other children. He enjoyed it. He did not
shed one tear. Instead, he ran home happily and told Inez about it.
- They think we are so funny. They call us Chinese. Everyone is saying Chinese. We are
Chinese, Inez!”
“During the winter, he sat at home in Ljungtavan and made wooden clogs (he made
baskets in the spring). These were heavy, red clogs made from alder, which he carved
out like melons. They looked like the houseboats of the poor that floated on the rivers in
China.”
From: Nässlorna Blomma (Flowering Nettles). pp. 28 and 64