we see requires us to revert from a noun to a verb. As Jiang Baishi described the calligraphy of past masters, a discerning viewer must see the rhythm of the writer’s life through the static characters— “as if witnessing the moment of its creation.” Early books, as manuscripts and traces of life, whether written on bamboo slips, silk, or paper, were fundamentally visual forms. With the invention of printing, books gained typeface, layout, illustrations, binding— and even the doodles and annotations of readers—along with the fragrance of paper, the resonance of ink, and the lingering scent of time, all contributing to a beauty that is intoxicating and irresistible. Today, those accustomed to “reading” books often see them merely as vessels of knowledge. People seem to have forgotten that in the past, in the true age of the “book,” books were primarily meant to be “seen”: they were presented in space, lingered in space, and existed permanently in space. People seem to have completely forgotten that the most beautiful “books” and the most beautiful Chinese characters are either inscribed on cliffs and steles or written on walls and paravents. We are accustomed to viewing paintings, but we forget to view books—not realizing that the earliest “books” and the best “books” were originally paintings. Shen Congwen said, “I am reading a small book while simultaneously reading a large book.” And the “Regarding Books” exhibition restores the tradition of book as visual art. It allows the book to proudly ascend to the hall it rightfully belongs in, allowing the book to be revered. It allows the spirit of the book to sweep through, like the wind, like the rain, like dandelion seeds drifting, passing through the halls, and merging into the wilderness. Until the world and life are like a magnificently bound volume, slowly unfolding before the eyes of each viewer. Li Jun Director and Professor, Department of Arts and Design, University of Macau EXHIBITION DEDICATION 28
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