Mu Ran Gong,Creation Is a Form of Healing
A Studio on the Mountain My studio sits halfway up a mountain. Push open the window and clouds drift past the eaves; the wind carries the scent of pine resin and earth indoors. Many ask why I placed my studio so high, where the drive down the winding road takes forty minutes. There is no special reason — only that I need a certain distance: distance from the city, from the noise, from an era that keeps urging you to "hurry, hurry faster." I have lived in this studio for many years. It is my home, my place of creation, and the space where I keep myself company. I wake at dawn, brew a pot of tea, grind ink at the slate, and spread out a sheet of rice paper — and so the day's healing begins. I have often felt that painting, at its core, is not made for others to see. It is made for oneself. It is what happens when a person has walked too long in the world, grown tired, hurt, or lost, and returns to this sheet of paper to set the heart down again. From "What" ...