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Guqin musicians seek peaceful state of mind
By Wang Yong |
May 27, 2011, Friday
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FLUSHED with pride, my niece told me last week she had begun to learn Korean as she had been impressed by traditional Korean family values such as mutual respect and filial piety after watching some Korean films.
"Hey, those values have much of their root in Confucianism, don't they?" I asked my niece. "Why don't you learn traditional Chinese values instead?"
"Traditional Chinese values are pretty much dead in today's China, but they're alive in Korea," she quipped.
Sigh and silence were my response. How could I argue with a teenager who's been brought up in a culture constantly in denial of its own past glory? First in the May 4 Movement in 1919, then in the "cultural revolution (1966-1976)", modern China twice split itself from Confucian values of filial piety, frugality, benevolence and balance. Confucianism has found itself further alienated from daily life in China since the materialistic slogan "to be rich is glorious" took hold in the late 1980s.
As a Chinese proverb goes: what a child says is bold and true. My niece's statement that "traditional Chinese values are pretty much dead in today's China" rings well with my colleague Wan Lixin's latest article on how capitalist worship of conspicuous consumption has brainwashed myriads of impressionable Chinese youth. ("A modest victory for those opposed to luxuries, Shanghai Daily, May 25.)
Wu family
And I share my niece's respect for Koreans who, like Japanese, are steadfast in preserving the best of Confucianism. Having said this, I would add that the cream of Confucianism still resides in China - at least embodied in a big family of guqin gurus in Suzhou, a 2,500-year-old city about a one-hour drive from Shanghai.
The Wu family of guqin gurus - from octogenarians to those in their 20s - made their collective debut in Shanghai on May 21. It was far more than a musical feast, it was a perfect manifestation of traditional Chinese wenren spirit of benevolence and balance as preached and practiced by Confucius and Confucian scholars.
Wenren seems to have no corresponding term in English. On the surface, wenren can be translated as "man of letters," "literati" or "intellectual," but these don't capture wenren's connotation of a refined man in peace with nature and himself - the exact moral requirement of Confucianism (sometimes in combination with Taoism). Nowadays, the term has evolved to include both women and men.
Refined people at peace with nature and themselves never assume airs, they treat even strangers as friends. Indeed, my wife and I were waiting in a rehearsal room last Saturday when the Wu family of musicians filed in, fresh from a ride from Suzhou to Shanghai through heavy traffic.
Without knowing who we were, two elderly men came to say hello to us as if we were old acquaintances. On introduction, my wife and I were surprised to learn that they were Mr Pei Jinbao and Mr Wu Guangtong, towering figures of the Wu family of guqin masters.
We've seen great musicians - great in terms of skill - but none of them treated us as such. In most cases, great musicians are to be approached, aspired and appreciated, they hardly aspire to show interest in total strangers.
Mild melodies
On our first encounter, however, Pei and Wu beamed with quiet but sincere smiles and chatted with us like we were relatives.
When Wang Duo, another guqin guru of the Wu family, saw me in a corridor leading to the stage, he gently gestured toward me and gave me a heartfelt smile - even his eyes smiled.
For the Wu family, guqin is more than a musical instrument, it's a way of life. Saturday's concert, titled "Mild Melodies from Wu," impressed my wife and me more as a casual family gathering than a formal concert, although it was a successful concert by any standard as there was not an empty seat and the musicians performed beautifully.
It was more like a family gathering because, in Pei's words, playing guqin has been part of the daily lifestyle of a traditional Chinese wenren, who plays guqin first of all to refine himself. In Wu Guangtong's words, a wenren plays guqin to please himself or a couple of friends, not to show off before a big audience.
Indeed, in Hong Kong and Taiwan, where traditional Chinese values are well preserved, the Wu family of guqin gurus are very popular for their philosophy of treating guqin not just as a musical instrument, but as a way to reflect the traditional wenren spirit.
How does this wenren spirit of balance look on the seven strings of a guqin? As the patriarch of the Wu family, Wu Zhaoji (1908-1997) would always treat emotional episodes with ease - his body or fingers never swung wildly as is often the case with many other musicians - Chinese or Western - who exaggerate movements to either entertain or show off.
Wu Zhaoji, father of Wu Guangtong, was also a modern tai chi master and a mathematics professor. He played tai chi and guqin as a way of life, not to show off.
Pei, who studied guqin with the late master, said in an interview with Suzhou Daily earlier this year that for a long time in Wu Zhaoji's life, many of those closest to him only knew he was a math professor and no more.
"He (master Wu Zhaoji) did not hide it (his talent in tai chi and guqin) intentionally," Pei said. "It was just a way of life of a traditional Chinese wenren." That is, be a refined person at peace with nature and yourself.
"Hey, those values have much of their root in Confucianism, don't they?" I asked my niece. "Why don't you learn traditional Chinese values instead?"
"Traditional Chinese values are pretty much dead in today's China, but they're alive in Korea," she quipped.
Sigh and silence were my response. How could I argue with a teenager who's been brought up in a culture constantly in denial of its own past glory? First in the May 4 Movement in 1919, then in the "cultural revolution (1966-1976)", modern China twice split itself from Confucian values of filial piety, frugality, benevolence and balance. Confucianism has found itself further alienated from daily life in China since the materialistic slogan "to be rich is glorious" took hold in the late 1980s.
As a Chinese proverb goes: what a child says is bold and true. My niece's statement that "traditional Chinese values are pretty much dead in today's China" rings well with my colleague Wan Lixin's latest article on how capitalist worship of conspicuous consumption has brainwashed myriads of impressionable Chinese youth. ("A modest victory for those opposed to luxuries, Shanghai Daily, May 25.)
Wu family
And I share my niece's respect for Koreans who, like Japanese, are steadfast in preserving the best of Confucianism. Having said this, I would add that the cream of Confucianism still resides in China - at least embodied in a big family of guqin gurus in Suzhou, a 2,500-year-old city about a one-hour drive from Shanghai.
The Wu family of guqin gurus - from octogenarians to those in their 20s - made their collective debut in Shanghai on May 21. It was far more than a musical feast, it was a perfect manifestation of traditional Chinese wenren spirit of benevolence and balance as preached and practiced by Confucius and Confucian scholars.
Wenren seems to have no corresponding term in English. On the surface, wenren can be translated as "man of letters," "literati" or "intellectual," but these don't capture wenren's connotation of a refined man in peace with nature and himself - the exact moral requirement of Confucianism (sometimes in combination with Taoism). Nowadays, the term has evolved to include both women and men.
Refined people at peace with nature and themselves never assume airs, they treat even strangers as friends. Indeed, my wife and I were waiting in a rehearsal room last Saturday when the Wu family of musicians filed in, fresh from a ride from Suzhou to Shanghai through heavy traffic.
Without knowing who we were, two elderly men came to say hello to us as if we were old acquaintances. On introduction, my wife and I were surprised to learn that they were Mr Pei Jinbao and Mr Wu Guangtong, towering figures of the Wu family of guqin masters.
We've seen great musicians - great in terms of skill - but none of them treated us as such. In most cases, great musicians are to be approached, aspired and appreciated, they hardly aspire to show interest in total strangers.
Mild melodies
On our first encounter, however, Pei and Wu beamed with quiet but sincere smiles and chatted with us like we were relatives.
When Wang Duo, another guqin guru of the Wu family, saw me in a corridor leading to the stage, he gently gestured toward me and gave me a heartfelt smile - even his eyes smiled.
For the Wu family, guqin is more than a musical instrument, it's a way of life. Saturday's concert, titled "Mild Melodies from Wu," impressed my wife and me more as a casual family gathering than a formal concert, although it was a successful concert by any standard as there was not an empty seat and the musicians performed beautifully.
It was more like a family gathering because, in Pei's words, playing guqin has been part of the daily lifestyle of a traditional Chinese wenren, who plays guqin first of all to refine himself. In Wu Guangtong's words, a wenren plays guqin to please himself or a couple of friends, not to show off before a big audience.
Indeed, in Hong Kong and Taiwan, where traditional Chinese values are well preserved, the Wu family of guqin gurus are very popular for their philosophy of treating guqin not just as a musical instrument, but as a way to reflect the traditional wenren spirit.
How does this wenren spirit of balance look on the seven strings of a guqin? As the patriarch of the Wu family, Wu Zhaoji (1908-1997) would always treat emotional episodes with ease - his body or fingers never swung wildly as is often the case with many other musicians - Chinese or Western - who exaggerate movements to either entertain or show off.
Wu Zhaoji, father of Wu Guangtong, was also a modern tai chi master and a mathematics professor. He played tai chi and guqin as a way of life, not to show off.
Pei, who studied guqin with the late master, said in an interview with Suzhou Daily earlier this year that for a long time in Wu Zhaoji's life, many of those closest to him only knew he was a math professor and no more.
"He (master Wu Zhaoji) did not hide it (his talent in tai chi and guqin) intentionally," Pei said. "It was just a way of life of a traditional Chinese wenren." That is, be a refined person at peace with nature and yourself.
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