Taiwan Today

It is better to stay close
      to one's humble dwelling
      than to seek audiences
      with the rich and affluent;

It is better to hear the song
      of the woodcutter and the chant
      of the shepherd than to listen
      to the gossip on the streets;

It is better to recite the noble
      words and deeds of the ancients
      than to discuss the immoralities
      and misdeeds of others."

Calligrapher and poet Tsao Chiu-pu, now 92 years old, calligraphically recorded these lines twenty years ago to provide, for posterity, an enduring vision of the noble aspirations of the great scholars of China past.

Though, for people today, such advice might seem a highly idealized, indeed unobtainable, concept of moral behavior, directed to the highest historical order of detached and enlightened scholars, for Tsao Chiu-pu it represents far more than aspiration: it is an apt depiction of the exacting life he has chosen to live, unwaveringly, to the present.

Among Tsao's innumerable former calligraphy students in China, Japan (and many other countries in Asia and the West), many are now famous­ politicians, scholars, bankers, business and professional men. However, Tsao Chiu-pu looks for no special favors or influence, indeed avoids most all social functions, seeing them as distractions from what he really wants to be doing. And though considered, by many, to be one of the best calligraphers of modern times, Tsao Chiu-pu, for the most part, waves off magazine interviews and television appearances, preferring to spend his time engrossed in his own style of Zen, and with calligraphy and poetry.

Tsao Chiu-pu was born in Taipei, Taiwan, in 1895—the same year China was forced to cede the island to Japan, during the closing years of its last imperial (Ching) dynasty. The ancient empire festered under the inept rule of the corrupt Empress Dowager Tsu Hsi; invasions and interventions from abroad were compounded by numerous internal problems and rebellions, bringing extreme disorder to Chinese society. It was actually during the turbulence of the Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864) that Tsao Chiu-pu's family moved to Taiwan from Fukien Province on the mainland.

During Tsao's youth, Taiwan, under Japanese rule, was spared from a good deal of the misery sweeping the mainland; however, living conditions on the island (then known to most of the world as Formosa) were very difficult also.

Tsao Chiu-pu's father was a craftsman of Chinese paper lanterns, a trade from which he was able to eke out just enough to sustain a meager lifestyle. It was in this atmosphere of difficulty, both personal and for all China, that Tsao Chiu-pu grew up and was educated, and was able, eventually, to rise above hardship and become more successful than he or anyone else might have hoped for at that time.

As a child, he was noted for an extraordinary natural intelligence. Just watching his father writing the Chinese characters with a brush on the family calendar, by the age of three, he learned to recognize over three hundred Chinese characters.

He recalls, when his parents took him out visiting, being ridiculed by other children for his special abilities. At the age of nine, he entered a small private village school where he started his studies of the Confucian classics and, due to his exceptional mental abilities, far exceeded the other students. Whether for memorization or dictation, he had only to see the material once to remember it perfectly; he could then write or recite it backward or forward without error.

Due to his gift for learning, he was taken out of the small village school the following year and allowed to attend a public school established by the Japanese. And again he was recognized for his aptitude, receiving special attention from the teachers. By the age of fourteen or fifteen, he was already able to write credible, rhymed poetry, a feat difficult for most with twice the years of study behind them. When, once again, his achievement surpassed that which a school could offer, and as his level now greatly exceeded that of his classmates, he voluntarily withdrew after six years of study and sought out private teachers, such as former Chin Dynasty scholars Ho Hao-ting and Chen Tso-kan, under whom he studied calligraphy and the classics.

Despite Tsao Chiu-pu's academic successes, life was not easy. Given his family's humble economic circumstances, his continuing, full-time student status was not a luxury they could long afford. Thus in his seventeenth year, Tsao Chiu-pu filed an application with the local Japanese government officials and received permission to open his own village school. Before even having reached adulthood (by present standards), Tsao Chiu-pu found himself headmaster and main teacher of a school in Taiwan's Taoyuan area.

It was by no means easy going, for by most scholarly standards, though Tsao's academic achievements were quite good, he had not really completed a thorough enough course of study to fully prepare for the new position. He felt compelled each day to spend long hours, after he finished teaching, continuing his own studies.

Because family circumstances were difficult, he recalls, "I had to make my own plans early, and so in my eighteenth year (seventeenth by Western tradition) I went to Taoyuan to open a village school and instruct students in Chinese literature. At the time, my past studies and what I knew were not enough; however, as a result of teaching, that gradually improved. How is that? Because, when I was teaching, frequently there would be students who wanted instruction in certain advanced material­—material which I had previously not studied.

"But, could I get up in front of them and say, 'Your teacher hasn't studied that; go over it yourselves'? Of course not. To do so would have been an embarrassment. Therefore, in such a situation I had to first study the material thoroughly myself; only after having made ample preparation would I get up in front of the students to teach them. That is how one gains teaching experience. That was also how I really learned the Confucian classics inside out."

In addition to such devotion to his teaching and studies, Tsao Chiu-pu also continued to practice his calligraphy daily, and even studied painting, until the strain of such a schedule started to take its toll on his health and he was forced to give up painting. Nonetheless, from the few examples of his bamboo paintings which have survived down to the present, it can be seen that Tsao Chiu-pu's techniques had reached a rather advanced state.

After teaching at Taoyuan for four years, Tsao returned to his birthplace, Taipei, to open another school. Yet he was not meant by fate to spend his days teaching the Chinese classics, a prospect with its roots partly in an earlier incident.

The island's artistic and cultural center, in those days, was in southern Taiwan. When a friend from the south teased Tsao about Taipei's artlessness, this engendered a spontaneous response from Tsao: "Well, I'm going to become an artist, and that will show you!"

If his friend was joking, Tsao Chiu­-pu certainly wasn't. Not only did Tsao go on to become Taipei's foremost calligraphic artist, but by many people's reckoning, one of the best in all China.

The road to the top of the calligraphic summit, which Tsao began with single­ minded determination from the age of thirty, was by no means easy. His days of intense calligraphic practice were often a physically painful experience: "Very often I would practice from evening until sunup the next day, by which time my fingertips would be bleeding. Luckily, I was still young and foolish.

"Also, what was available to us at that time in the way of materials for practicing calligraphy was as primitive as you could imagine. Wherever we could scrimp, we did. There was no chance to be wasteful. By comparison, today's students of calligraphy have a very easy time."

In addition to his calligraphy, Tsao's growing reputation as a poet turned quite a few heads, and he became a popular guest at special gatherings in which participants would join in poetry and couplet-matching contests (for example, one person might come up with the first half of a couplet: "Waters flowing past rocks become cold;" a suitable reply might be: "Breezes passing through flowers become fragrant"—with "breezes" to match "waters," "passing" to match "flowing," flowers to match "rocks," etc. Tsao became a constant winner of these contests, but he soon found such victories empty and began to avoid such gatherings as much as possible, preferring to devote his time and energy to his calligraphy. And thus, likely, began his growing dislike of social functions.

Tsao's calligraphy drew increasing attention and, in 1929, he founded and became director of the Tan Lu Calligra­phy Society and, in the same year, mounted a personal calligraphy exhibit at the Taiwan Provincial Museum. The reactions of connoisseurs to this exhibit were most favorable, and two years later, in November 1931, his next major exhibit (this time in the coastal city of Hualien) again drew applause. His name became known island-wide and, not long after, he decided to tour the island. Everywhere he went people now greeted him with unmatched hospitality, opening both hearts and homes to him. Calligraphic exhibitions and demonstrations were organized for him at each stop along the way.

Around this time, Tsao started to develop a technique that became a lifelong trademark—applying the brush with bent wrist. The standard method is to grasp the top of the calligraphic brush between thumb and forefinger, and the lower section between the middle and ring finger, with the little finger in support, and the brush held on a vertical plane with the arm.

Tsao's special grip is in seeming defiance of physiological reality: after grasping the brush in a rather unconventional manner, he bends the whole arm and wrist round, in a circular configuration. While most calligraphers would have trouble even holding this position a few minutes, Tsao has practiced to the point where he can write for hours without tiring. He calls the technique the "Tai Chi" brush method, and developed it as an integral part of what might be termed "the Zen approach to calligraphy."

Early on, Tsao Chiu-pu's health was less than ideal and, after reading many books on Chinese secrets of health rejuvenation, he purposefully developed his extended calligraphic technique. Sitting in an upright posture, he grasps the brush as indicated and, beginning to move it in a steady, circular motion, starts to breath deeply to the lower abdomen as his mind gradually calms down and becomes free of outside thoughts.

One of the precepts of Zen is such a state of "no mental activity," in which arises uninhibited artistic creation. Tsao Chiu-pu believes that it is this overall method which is responsible for giving his calligraphy its forcefulness and unique character—as well as restoring his health. Given the present excellence of both his calligraphy and health, at the now advanced age of 92, it would seem hard to dispute him on either point.

In December 1934 and the following January, Tsao Chiu-pu made two mainland trips, the first to Amoy in Fukien Province for a one man calligraphy exhibition, and the second for another such exhibition, but now, also, to serve as an instructor at the Amoy Junior College of Art. Not only was this an important link in the artistic interchange between Taiwan and the Fukien mainland, it also gave Tsao the opportunity to mix with renowned artists of the southern mainland. Tsao managed to more than hold his own in ensuing poetry contests, even with the most famous personalities. Overall, the experience was one of growth for him.

The following year, he returned to Taiwan and began staging exhibitions both locally and by special invitation in Japan. His next major step came in 1940, when he packed off for Japan to live and work for a six-year period as instructor at two Japanese academies of calligraphy. During that period he also staged several personal exhibitions.

Perhaps it was all those years of social functions in Amoy and Japan—which could not be refused without breaching etiquette—that wearied Tsao. In any case, on returning to Taiwan after its restoration to China, he went for more than ten years into what amounted to a semi-hermitage. Living in a very small residence in the Tamsui area just outside of Taipei, he cut off almost all contact with the outside world, except for his students.

What he did then—including when he was teaching students or Writing calligraphy—he describes as "practicing Zen." Although Tsao had no formal monastic training, his devotion to Zen brought him peace, physically and mentally. Although some might question such a move, at a very prime time in his career, for Tsao, who of habit waved off fame and fortune, there was no uncertainty at all.

When Tsao finally staged, a Taiwan exhibition of his calligraphic works in 1959, the first since his return from Japan thirteen years earlier, it served to put to rest any doubts any may have entertained that the influence of his period of seclusion in Tamsui had been anything but positive: From that exhibit, it was obvious that Tsao had reached an even higher calligraphic plane.

While maintaining the dynamism which infused his calligraphy—the sense of "aliveness" that had made it so special—apparent now was an added, very artistically satisfying sense of refinement...of sophistication; his new work might be likened to a fine gem or piece of jade, carefully cut and polished, then worked to remove all flaws, allowing a pure and natural beauty to shine forth. His thirteen years in Tamsui of disciplined, one-minded dedication to his calligraphy and to cultivation of character through Zen and simple living, had now a most profound influence on his calligraphy.

Tsao has always been quick to point out that what is written on the calligraphic surface unfailingly reflects, to the trained eye, the cultivation of character of the calligrapher: "A confused person will reflect exactly that confusion in his calligraphy....One who aims to understand the 'way of calligraphy' needs first to understand the 'way of character cultivation' and its relationship to calligraphy."

Consequently, when Tsao teaches calligraphy, he also stresses to his students the importance of upright and moral behavior and of helping others. Although humble about his own benevolence, in many instances he gave monies he had collected from teaching or the sale of calligraphic works to people in need, without the slightest regard for his own financial needs. He would tell his students that their calligraphic hands would also profit from improving character and levels of self cultivation. He was fond of quoting the famous Tang Dynasty calligrapher Liu Kung-chuan: "If the mind is upright, then the brush is upright....A calligraphic work is a reflection of the character of the person who accomplished it. That is why the ancients said, 'If one is not of high character, there is no proper method of using the brush.'"

Having emerged from seclusion, following his well received exhibition, Tsao was once more in the art-world's limelight. In 1963 he opened a studio formally established for the instruction of students in calligraphy. He also held a joint exhibition and sale of calligraphic works with his students; the proceeds were donated to charity. In that same year, Tsao was publicly recognized for his benevolence toward the needy. In 1965, the year he turned 70, Tsao became professor of calligraphy at the graduate school of Chinese Culture University.

The following years saw numerous awards, accolades, requests for exhibitions, and bestowals of position, both functional and honorary, as head of numerous calligraphic societies...not to mention the intensifying recognition of the quality of his calligraphy. But it remained most important for Tsao Chiu-pu only to continue teaching his students and to live a simple life.

A kind and generous person who gives freely of himself, Tsao has always exhibited almost paternal concern for his students. Nonetheless, he has proved a most demanding "father", expecting the best. His students were required to practice his "Tai Chi brush method" for months before even seeing a piece of paper. Although such rigors proved too much for many, those who stuck it out have become accomplished calligraphers. Today, some of these have their own calligraphy studios and students. Regardless of what level they reached in calligraphic excellence, all of Tsao's students, now too numerous to count and in every walk of life, when contacted, indicate a deep and abiding affection for him.

Although now past 90, his physical and mental condition are amazingly good. In fact, in the spring of his 90th year, he went on a fast for sixty days, drinking water only, which he claims made him even healthier. Just days prior to the end of the fast, his daughter requested that he write a calligraphic piece for a friend. And despite having abstained from solid nourishment for almost two months, he was still able to write with the same forceful and flowing calligraphic hand. He always smiles easily and broadly, and makes it a point to mention that he hasn't a single false tooth and still can eat anything.

All that, Tsao Chiu-pu maintains, goes to show what right living, right thinking, and a Zen approach to calligraphy can do for a person.

It seems hard to disagree.