爱极了的圆月又拉开了今夜的帷幕。如往常一样，我灌了满满一整壶水，给心爱的紫竹饱食一餐夜宵。

　　白天，山姆大哥又去花市买回八根紫竹和一根青竹，整个下午，我与山姆二人兴致勃勃地蹲在阳台上“植竹”、“修竹”。 阳台的半壁江山就被十六根竹装点得诗意盎然。

　　浇完水，我半躺在画室地上的凉席上，面向“竹林”。夜里的风很轻很抒情，饱餐后的竹叶满足地摇头晃 脑，交头接耳起来。我耳畔传来苏东坡的“宁可食无肉，不可居无竹”。我躺在那儿，看地呆了，脑子里又翻腾起来。

　　“人到底是怎么一回事呢?”

　　“人生究竟该怎样过?”

　　“我要对这一排竹子的生命负责。它们带给我美丽，我则送给它们爱—我是否要把它们画下来呢—用什么形式好呢—水墨氤氲还是色彩缤纷—可是我今天才认识它们呀—彼此再处一阵子，加深一些了解再说吧—可是我为什么要画它们呢?—自己为何画画，是职业需要，还是生存需要，或是心灵需要—可最近又为什么不坐到早已被山姆大哥绷得象鼓一样平整的画布前，而老是埋在书堆纸堆里，舞文弄字呢?” 我弹了一下指尖的笔头，翻一下身，头一偏，目光正好又扫到大红色墙毡上压着的二幅工笔花卉，是自己几 年前的旧作，几乎又看呆了过去—当然，正在云游的脑子并没有跟着呆过去。

　　不记得曾在哪儿读到过一句话，说是“人类最伟大的是思想，没有思想就没有一切”，大意应是这样。 我是爱极了思想的，所以总是一刻也不让大脑休息地工作着。 我想：自己选择读书、写字、画画来打发生命，其中除了喜欢之外，有什么因缘吗?为什么不去做生意发 财，不去求官谋利，不去安心地生儿育女，不去这不去那儿?

　　在一本闲书上看到这样一句话：

　　“造物主想得周到，赋予了人感受的本能，又赋予了人诉说的本能，这就使人得以在一种相对平衡的心态中活着。婴儿刚一落生，头一件事就是哇哇大哭，宗教人士把这解释为对人生的恐惧，他或她还没有睁眼便预感到今后的旅途充满了坎坷和艰险，因此虔诚修持成为脱离苦海的必须;医务工作者认为这是环境刺激的结 果，突然脱离了母腹，安全感没有了，温度、湿度、舒适度也不可同日而语，因此便用哭声表达留恋和拒 绝。两种论点的相同之处是明显的，那就是承认婴儿降生时的哭声是一种表达，一种诉说。”

　　又说：

　　“人的性格千差万别，文化修养也不尽相同，诉说的方式也就形形色色。有的言词隐晦，犹抱琵琶半遮面; 有的直抒胸意，嬉笑怒骂，皆成文章。无论文唱武打，只要诉说得好，不但能满足自身的需要，还能招徕观众，愉悦世人。”

　　我显然是喜欢说的。我最忠实的听众要数山姆大哥了，说到兴之所至，随波逐浪，只要不危害社会。遇到知音知己，更是混着咖啡香茶淡烟说地满屋荒唐言，直让听者和我自己都痴了过去。

　　当然也有不想说的时候，在某种场合总是人魂分离，灵魂出壳，看上去木讷。如果满座衣冠觥筹交错，言语尽是声色犬马升官发财华服美颜风流艳史，叫我又如何酒逢知己千杯少。我并非要超尘。可不知怎么每遇此时总落寞而找不到自己。只好沉默是金，沉默对花一笑吧。怎么办呢，心里总还是有些话想要说的呀，还好，我自有秘招—那就是在画里面去说吧：画花画草画自己画幻想画梦境;小幅中幅巨幅横幅竖幅;浓彩淡彩具像抽象四不像;毛笔油画笔蜡笔签字笔;画布宣纸打印纸—天马行空，随心所欲。

　　可是，我想说的想表达的总是太多，而自己在画上的技术还是有限，没法画出“小桥流水人家，古道西风瘦马”;还画不出“厚地高天，堪叹古今情不尽”，更表达不出“无可奈何花落去，似曾相识燕归来”。

　　有位哲人说，过分的执著也是人格的缺陷。所以我不执著于画艺上的技术，要把另一只脚踏进了文学的大观 园，用文字去说。对着白纸是自己跟自己说;捧着书是跟作者说。说着说着，又会说出另一番天和地。

　　我又想，自己老想说却总说不完的那个穿针引线的主题到底是什么呢?

　　——对了，就是那个包含了人类最大的，古往今来最能解决的，使人类可以上天堂也入地狱的一个字，也就 是“情”字。亲情友情爱情世故人情乡情手足情……怎一个“情”字了得，直叫人生死相许。天有多大，情就有多宽阔;海有多深，情就有多深厚;就如无尽宝藏取之不尽。难怪自己总是说也说不完，道也道不尽啊。

　　想到这里，我嘴角露出一丝浅笑，想到了一句流行广告语：“想唱就唱，唱地响亮。”那我就想说就说，说出心中万种风情。

　　人生一路边走边说，慷慨激昂，柔声细语，投枪七首，洞萧横吹;在画布上说，到书里去说，亦或在白纸黑 字地去说，也可变着法地说。不为功名，只想品出人生百味，炼成“水煮人生”汤，此汤以“情”为主料，岁月为文火，以画布纸张为皿，再以书为佐料。

　　你看，由几根紫竹说开去，竟说到了一道自创的佳肴，不亦乐乎!

　　如能自由自在地这么“说”一辈子，以“水煮人生”汤养生，也算没枉来世一遭啊。

　　感恩生命;感谢生活;感谢父母胞妹至亲挚友;感谢谢声远先生及夫人;是你们的诚挚关爱批评教诲伴随我和我的艺术走过生命的日日月月!

　　2007年夏末初稿，2010年1月修改、完稿 / 万晓笳

　　Postscript

　　I love how the full moon peels back the heavy curtains of the night. As I do each evening, I fill a pot with water and provide my beloved black bamboo with a midnight snack.

　　In the morning, big brother Sam went once again to the flower market and brought back another eight strands of black bamboo and a strand of young green bamboo. The whole afternoon, Sam and I were crouched excitedly on the balcony ‘planting’ and ‘fixing’ bamboo. My balcony is now poetically decorated with a series of sixteen strands of bamboo.

　　Having finished watering, I laid down on the mat in my studio and gazed at my ‘bamboo forest’. A light breeze gently stirs the air and the well fed bamboo leaves droop and weave lazily. The lines of a poem by Song dynasty poet Lin Bu drifts through my mind. I lay there, barely mindful of my surroundings when my mind kicks into gear again.

　　‘What is life about?’

　　‘How should we live our lives?’

　　‘I have a responsibility to these bamboos. They have brought beauty to my life, and I should reciprocate with love. Should I commit them to a painting? What medium should I use? Chinese ink with its layers of meaning conveyed through simple brushstrokes, or the fanfare of colours of oil on canvas? But I’ve known these bamboo for only a day – should I not wait a while and get to know them better? Why should I even paint them? Why do I paint – is it because it is a profession, or is it a job that pays the bills, or is it to fulfill some form of spiritual need? Why have I not been painting lately? The blank canvases, tautly stretched out by my big brother Sam sits waiting. Why have I been buried in my books and papers instead?’

　　I picked up a brush and tested its tip. As I inclined my head, I caught sight of two Gongbi paintings of flowers hanging on a red wall that I had completed years ago. Even as my eyes glazed over them, my mind actively considered them.

　　‘Mankind’s greatest achievement is contemplation. Nothing would exist without considered thought.’ I don’t quite remember where I had read it, and I am paraphrasing, but I’ve always been impressed by this quote. I love to think, and my mind is always working at a fevered pace.

　　I’ve chosen a life of reading, writing and drawing… is there any reason for this choice apart from personal preference? Why not go into business and try my hand at making a fortune? Why not seek a position of influence in government? Why not focus on building a loving family?

　　I remember this passage from a book I read:

　　‘Our creator endowed us with the ability to feel as well as the ability to express ourselves. A new-born baby’s first act is to cry. Religions explain this as man’s instinctive dread of the harshness and cruelties of life, and religious devotion is the means to escape to a better world. Medical professionals explain a baby’s crying as a physiological response to the drastic change of environment from the warmth and safety of the womb. Both schools of thought have something in common – a new-born babe’s cry is a form of expression, a form of communication.’

　　Another passage from the same book:

　　‘There are as many personalities as there are people. Cultural differences combined with different upbringing means that there are many varied ways in which we express ourselves. Some words and nuances are obscure and need to be teased out; they are like Bai Ju Yi’s pipa playing maiden who finally shyly appears from behind her music, but whose face is still half hidden by the lute. Others are like a chest beating bravo for whom mirth and curses are equally forthright. It does not matter how one chooses to communicate; if the message is expressed well it will naturally attract an audience.’

　　I am, for all intents, an inveterate ‘speaker’. I count amongst my most loyal ‘listeners’ my big brother Sam. We can talk late into the night on any and every subject. When you meet someone who speaks on the same frequency, it is with sincere pleasure that you share your joys, sorrows and little idiosyncrasies.

　　Of course, it is easy to be lonely when you are in a crowd. Whenever I am in the company of ‘fine society’ and the conversation topic turns to the rat race of who has the finer car or the more glamorous job, my mind starts to wander. How do you have a meaningful heart-to-heart conversation in that kind of situation? I always come away a little depressed and lost. I find that painting helps me to refocus, but I have so much to say, and there are so many nuances and thoughts that are far beyond my current skill level to express.

　　A wise man once said, being overly stubborn is also a flaw of man’s character. Following this advice, I try not to be fixated by the technique of painting, and instead to find part of my expression through the language of literature and the arts. When I am facing a blank canvas, I am speaking to myself. When I am holding a book, I am speaking with the author. These conversations open new doors and new perspectives for me.

　　I keep trying to express myself, but what is the common theme that threads what I am saying?

　　It’s really just one word – “Passion”. But what a complicated word to express! It has fuelled mankind’s greatest achievements since time immemorial. It can lift a person to heaven as easily as drive one to the depths of hell. Love, hate, sorrow, melancholy… passion can take many forms. It is as expansive as the sky is broad and can be as deep as the deepest ocean trenches. Is it any surprise then that the theme of my paintings cannot be easily described on one canvas?

　　To think, all that talk came about from just observing a few strands of bamboo!

　　If I could have the freedom to ‘speak’ like this for the rest of my life, then on that basis alone, I would say my life would not be a waste.

　　Life has given me a lot to be grateful for. I can never give enough thanks to my parents, my siblings and friends. I would like to thank Mr and Mrs Seah Shin Wong; it is your sincere support, concern and constructive criticism that has helped to grow as an artist.

　　First draft started end summer 2007

　　edited and completed January 2010

　　Wan Xiaojia