Li Cheng (attributed to), "A Solitary Temple amid Clearing Peaks." China, Five Dynasties Period, ca A.D. 975-1000. Hanging scroll, ink and light colors on silk.

Li Cheng (attributed), "Travellers in a Wintry Grove." ca. 1000, Northern Song Period, Hanging scroll, ink and color on silk.

Wen Tong, "Bamboo." China, Northern Song period, ca 1070. Hanging scroll, ink on silk.

Qian Xuan, "Wang Xizhi Gazing at Geese" (left half). Ca. 1280-1300, Yuan dynasty. Handscroll, ink and colors on paper.

Poem:

A grove of tall bamboo, such bracing freshness; A pavilion for leisure and belly bared, what was it like? For the writing of the Daodejing to give to a Daoist, He left for us the image of one who loves geese.

Zhao Mengfu, "Twin Pines, Level Distance" (left half). Ca. 1315-1320, Yuan dynasty. Handscroll, ink on paper.

Zhao Mengfu inscription

From the time I was young I studied the art of "calligraphy's leftovers" (i.e. painting). From time to time I played with a small brush, and it was only with landscape that I could achieve no success. Now, since the Tang the works of such masters of that dynasty as Wang Wei, the Generals Li, and Zheng Qian are rarely seen. With the Five Dynasties Period and the rise of such masters as Jing Hao, Guan Tong, Dong Yuan and Fan Kuan the landscapes of the earlier periods were far eclipsed. As for my own work, although it does not come close to the achievements of the past masters, I dare say it is something different from what is seen by others of today.

Shen Zhou, Night Vigil. 1494, Ming Dynasty. Hanging scroll, ink and light colors on paper.

Translation:

"On a cold night, sleep is very sweet. I woke in the middle of the night, my mind clear and untroubled, and as I was unable to go to sleep again, I put on my clothes and sat facing my flickering lamp. On the table were a few folders of books. I chose a volume at random and began to read but, tiring, I put down the book and sat calmly doing nothing. A long rain had newly cleared, and a pale moon was shining through the window. All around was silence. Then after a long time absorbing the fresh brightness, I gradually became aware of sounds. [He listens to sounds farther and farther off-the wind in the bamboo, the growling of dogs, the drumbeats that mark the hours, and finally, near dawn, the sound of a distant bell. His meditations turn to the difficulty of breaking through the constant operation of his own intellect, which seeks for knowledge more in books than in direct experience.] My nature is to enjoy sitting in the night. So I often spread a book under the lamp, going back and forth over it, usually stopping at the second watch. Man's clamor is not at rest, and the mind is yet bent on bookish learning. Until now, I have never attained a state of outer tranquility and inner stability. Now tonight all sounds and colors come to me through this state of tranquility and rest; they serve thus to cleanse the mind, spirit, and feelings and to arouse the will. It is not that these sounds and colors do not exist at other times, or that they do not strike one's ears and eyes. My outward form is usually slave to external things, and my mind takes its direction from them. Hearing is obstructed by the sounds of bell and drum; seeing is obscured by patterns and beauty. This is why material things benefit people seldom and harm them often. Sometimes it happens, though, as with tonight's sounds and colors, that while they do not differ from those of other times, yet they strike the ear and eye all at once, lucidly, wonderfully becoming a part of me. That they are drum and bell sounds, pattern and beauty, now cannot help but be an aid to the advancement of my self-cultivation. In this way, things cannot enslave man. Sounds are cut off, colors obliterated, but my will, absorbing these, alone endures. What is the so-called will? Is it inside me, after all, or outside? Does it exist in external things or does it come into being because of those things? In this there is a means of deciding these questions. Ah! I have decided them. How great is the power of sitting up at night! One should purify his heart and sit alone, by the light of a newly trimmed, bright candle. Through this practice one can pursue the principles that underlie events and things, and the subtlest workings of one's own mind, as the basis of self-cultivation and response to external things. Through this, we will surely attain understanding. I have composed this record of my night vigil in the renzi year of the Hongzhi reign (1492), fifteenth day of the seventh month. Shen Zhou of Changzhou."

Shen Zhou, Turtle Dove in Rain. Ca. 1485-1495, Ming Dynasty. Hanging scroll, ink and light colors on paper.

Translation:

Meaninglessly, I listen to the hundred birds,
Chirping, chattering, traversing winter cold and summer heat.
How could they compare to the branch-tip turtle dove?
Each sound knowing how to call the rain.