Basically, the TV show was about a day in the life of a successful artist who made tall wall scrolls in the Chinese style. His day started quite early with a simple cup of tea. With the discipline of his life, the general was a very morning person. Much technical preparation followed to paint a wall scroll. The best paper had to be selected and placed correctly on a long, low wooden table. The inks, red and black, had to be persuaded by hand rubbing them from the blocks to the stone. Various brushes were thoroughly examined, approved, and placed by the inks.
But, despite having done all of this carefully, these were only the material things. The general had to prepare properly. She donned a baggy but paradoxically formal dress, obviously intended only for the next task. Placing himself carefully on a special cushion, the general knelt in front of the empty paper that awaited him, prayed a little, and then stood still, silently meditating for about twenty minutes. Silently, he gathered up his tools and faced the paper like a cat preparing to pounce. Suddenly everything became a wild blur. With a brush in each hand, the general lunged toward the paper, spinning, perhaps like a hawk dispatching a dangerous viper.
Then it was all over; it had taken five, maybe ten minutes at the most. The now rather small man leaned back against his cushions, visibly exhausted from his concentrated efforts. After a few minutes of calm breathing, he slowly got up and turned the paper upright. Now upright, an angry black stallion reared back, mane swirling wildly around its mighty neck. It did not look like the laborious Dutch effort of the medieval European war horse, almost like an ox, overloaded with thick padding and iron armor. Rather, it was simply a dark, sentient power with a purpose, plus the rampant rampant horse of the Italian Renaissance. (Used today as the corporate icon for Ferrari cars.) This was not a servant, it was not a domesticated draft animal. If you were worthy, this could be your equine companion.
How did this frail old man achieve this? And in just a few minutes! He had seen the brushes spinning, he had seen the black ink fly. But where did this angry and fierce horse spirit come from that erupted on paper? From hell? From the sky? From both? How could he have done this? Unquestionably, much of the answer must be, because you’ve done it all before. Many times before. This last time, the brushes had flown almost by themselves, as by so-called muscle memory; Like you and I could have ridden a bike The general had imagined a horse; his hands had painted it on.
According to television, the rest of the general’s day was really banal in his routine. He put away his tools, took a quick shower, dressed smartly, in a coat and tie with a black fedora over his white hair, and went out for a modest lunch with friends at a neighborhood cafe.
The general participated little in the arrangement of his work. The narrator said that yes, there was an agent, but the sales were surprisingly easy. The old soldier had become General Horse. Their horses were captured as they became available, fetching up to $ 10,000 in 1990, and often through obscure intermediaries, surprisingly they were even sought out by some on the then very closed mainland. But good art is good art.
What should I get out of this story? I think it illustrates the value of focus, both tactically and strategically. (Or maybe locally and globally). On the one hand, the general turned his full attention to the horse just before putting the brush and ink on the paper. I had their full attention. Meditating, he concentrated deeply on his subjects. I imagine he imagined himself, with his eyes closed, standing under the raised hooves, his hand held high wet with flying saliva and almost deafened by the screech of the stallion. I could see every tense muscle and tousled hair in the generous mane and lush tail. He had to work at blinding speed to capture and tame the beast before being trampled on by those deadly weapons. On the other hand, it was General Horse. Only horse. Not also Colonel Tiger, Sergeant Rooster, and Admiral Shark. He made horses, he focused only on horses. And so he had mastered them. Finally, General Horse seems no longer interested in becoming an artist or in being an artist. Not even a General Artist. Instead, he only thought of making art, though he focused intently on painting his horses. This freed him to be simply General Horse.
P.S. A year ago, despite much research, I was unable to uncover any trace of the ghostly General Horse. Despite emails back and forth with local museums and television stations, I learned nothing beyond what I could remember. But today, my wife discovered the general’s name, if not much more. He was Yeh Tsui Pai. He was born in 1909 or 1910 and died in 1999. Something like a biography of Taiwan is available on the Internet. However, on the whole, there is still little to find. My personal General Horse is still almost a ghost, mysteriously accomplishing wonderful things in Chinese art.
