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字落在纸上却不是静止的,有一种气韵悄悄地流动着,流动着,或刚或柔,或明或晦,或简或繁,似乎运动不息,变化不止。在这幅作品里,我看见的不是字,是风起云涌,是沉思中的凝眸,是酒酣后的歌吟。
Words fall on paper but not static, there is a charm quietly flowing, flowing, or just or soft, clear or dark, or simple or complex, seems to exercise, change more than. In this piece of works, I saw not words, surging clouds, is contemplative gaze, is the song after the song.