
C hinese written script is made up of several thousand individual graphs. Each consists of an invariable group of strokes executed in a set order. One of the truly unique features of calligraphy that results from these apparently restrictive guidelines is that the viewer is able to mentally retrace, stroke by stroke, the exact steps by which the work was made. The viewer also is able to observe extremely subtle nuances of execution—where a stroke was made swiftly or slowly; whether the brush was put to the paper with great delicacy or force; and so on. The ability [and inducement!] to perform such mental retracing personalizes the viewing experience and generates in the viewer a strong sense of interacting or communing with the absent calligrapher [composer] ... Calligraphy clearly had this obvious social dimension, but it also had an important ‘natural’ dimension that should not be overlooked. For example, early critics and connoisseurs often likened its expressive power to elements of the natural world, comparing the movements of the brush to the force of boulders plummeting down a hillside, or to the gracefulness of fleeting patterns left on the surface of a pond by a flock of swimming geese.”
— Charles Lachman, Asia Society.
T here were many things for me to be inspired by while listening to the concert performed this past Monday evening at the National Arts Centre in Ottawa, Ontario. The concert—by the China Broadcasting Chinese Orchestra, conducted by Pang Ka-Pang—was a “kick-off” to both nations’ celebrating 40 years of
China-Canada diplomatic relations and commercial trading.
F irst, this thought occurred to me as I listened to the 96 Chinese musicians performing: there are parallels between traditional Chinese orchestral music and certain types of traditional Chinese calligraphy!
S ome calligraphic styles involve strokes that are rapid, bold to an extreme—they are sketch-like in their spontaneity; each feature, once improvised, never to be returned-to.
B ut other Chinese calligraphy styles involve the placement of brush stroke on top of previous brush strokes—a “layer-upon-layer” effect with subsequent ink-brush strokes overlaying the ones that went before, creating extra visual, emotional ‘tension’ through the insistent, laminated repetition of a particular stroke-motion in one spot, to create part of the Chinese Hànzì character that is being written. The individual repetitions are not identical, so the effect is accumulative—a collective sonic endorsement of a single thought, one whose quality becomes now more obviously a ‘multi-faceted’ idea than we would have perceived it to be had it only been articulated once, one player to a part as one would do in most chamber music.

- Li Huanzhi (arr. Peng Xiuwen): Ouverture du nouvel An chinois
- Traditional (arr. Peng Xiuwen): Alors que la lune se lève
- W.A. Mozart (arr. Peng Xiuwen): Sérénade pour cordes en G majeur
- Tan Dun: Northwest Suite
- Liu Tieshan & Mao Yuan (arr. Peng Xiuwen): Danse du people Yao
- J. Strauss (arr Guang Naizhong): Pizzicato Polka, Op. 234
- Li Huanzhi: Chant folklorique chinois - Jasmine
- Liu Yuan: Hua Bangzi de Hebei (Cto. Pour banhu)
- Xu Changjun: Danse du dragon
O n Monday evening we heard musical examples emblematic of both: some of the works were bold, soloistic improvised “texts”; and others among them were insistent, collectivized, massively-parallelized texts, with extensive doubling and repetition.

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