A nightingale with a true heart

Yesterday, I drew a picture of a bird and flowers. While drawing the bird, I thought of a fairy tale called The Nightingale, written by Andersen. In ancient China, there lived a nightingale who could sing beautifully. His songs touched the emperor, who couldn't keep tears from falling while listening to his singing.

But soon, the emperor of Japan sent a mechanical bird to China, causing the real bird to lose favor in the palace. The end of the story was that the emperor became very sick a few years later, but the real nightingale flew to his bed and cured him with its singing.

What is the difference between the real and mechanical birds? Only the real bird can sing from its heart. A song from a true heart can cure a soul while those with hypocrisy only make others sick. Any form of art should be created from the creator's true heart. Otherwise, it is hard to move people, or what is worse, it is harmful. This is a principle I have always adhered to while making any art product. 

Many years ago, when I was about to leave Xi'an, a friend said to me, "Oh, my dear Little New, you're too kind-hearted because you treat everyone with a true heart. I'm afraid that you will be hurt sooner or later, since not everyone is as friendly to you as we are." After leaving Xi'an, my life became very different. I went to Australia and met a lot of people. Just as my friend had expected, I was hurt by one person after another. I even tried to learn to be more hypocritical and cunning, but I found it very hard to be that way. I have a strong feeling of guilt when telling a lie. Having experienced the ups and downs of life, I've chosen to be myself, living a simple life. I want to just be a nightingale Lin a forest, singing with my own voice and own heart.

RESPECT

When I was working at Queensland University of Technology, I often went to the swimming pool down stairs of my office.
I have never been a good swimmer, and as a result, I always stayed on the gentle exercise lane by the side.
One day when I was swimming as usual, I found other people in my lane all moved away to elsewhere. I puzzled, checked the surrounding environment and saw that a person was slowly taken off from a wheel chair and the carer who was helping him blamed me not moving away. “Sorry!" I said, "I didn't see you. I will leave now." However the boy from the wheel chair suddenly said, "No. I don't want you to leave. Please don’t. Could you stay and swim with me together?" I nodded my head. After playing for a while, I told him that I needed to go back to office for work.
"I'm very glad today." The boy told me and he looked at the carer pleasantly. "Every time when I came here, all people who were playing in this lane would move to others, making me lonely. I'm glad that you can stay with me." Then he asked, "could you let us know when you will be here so that we always try to meet you?" "It's hard to say." I said, "As I am working just upstairs. I come here whenever I like. But you can try to ask others to be with you too. I am sure they will be glad to be with you if you request.”
"No." He said, "I only want to be with you as you swim badly. Though you can walk faster than me on the land, you can’t be faster than me in the water, which makes me very happy!"

A Revisit To A University Campus

Today we went to Brisbane CBD, and parked our car at QUT's Gardens Point Campus. This is the campus that I had studies and worked for a long time. I am familiar with everywhere and everything, including the lawns, the buildings and the classrooms. The giant "Undersea World" animation screen is still there at P block, and thus we stepped into it and let the kids play there for a while. Many times in the past I felt embarrassed to come to QUT, especially I was afraid to accidentally meet someone I had known before, but this time I am relieved. I know I am innocent and I have done nothing wrong. This is why I have no longer been afraid to face anyone or anything.

My previous office is located at Level 7 of the building. I still clearly remember that in the then Head of School's office, a Dutch professor that I once admired, blamed me for my presentation to some business stakeholders, "Your understanding of the theory is correct, your method to the investigation is sensible, your conclusion is objective, but you are wrong to directly speak out the conclusion in front of the business stakeholders as your result will make them very unhappy." At that time I really thought I had done something wrong or guilty. Ten years later, I stood in the building and thought of that conversation. Though I know he really criticised me, I've no longer think it to be my guilty, but instead, to be something that I should be proud of. At least I am brave enough to speak out my research findings in front of business stakeholders, even when my conclusion is said to potentially make them very upset and annoyed.

I watched a documentary on ABC iView last year, which was about a man who was undertaken a gender reassignment surgery as a new born baby due to a genital different from normal people's, agreed by his parents and recommended by a doctor. This surgery caused all traumas of his whole life. He later found out the doctor and asked him why he did this to bring him all those sufferings. The doctor said he was sorry for the man's suffering, but he made this decision because he wanted to help him as this was what was suggested on the textbook and the trainings in hospital after he graduated, though he knew it was no longer suggested in nowadays' material. In fact, the wrong suggestion was a result of a fake medical research.

The doctor intended to help the then newborn boy to make that decision but the decision in fact harmed him. There were many incidents happened during my days at QUT as a researcher. All these contributed to my eventually leaving from research. In the past I thought these incidents hurt me a lot. But without them, how could I really escape? After understanding this, I've no longer annoyed of anyone or anything. All have become history, and I have a much better life.

Art Comes From Life

These days I am reading the biography of a famous Chinese painter Qi Barshi. Qi Baishi's paintings have a very strong personal style that rooted from his rural life experience, while the techniques he used are from Chinese traditional literati paintings. He can achieve this as he was a farmer and a carpenter before turning into a professional artist. 

Many people studied paintings from artworks of others, such as those shown in museums or art galleries. But we can only studied the techniques from this. To feed the arts with souls, we have to learn from life. When we use techniques to transform our happiness, sadness, joys and sufferings into the artworks we are creating, we’ve found out an aesthetic way to communicate with others. 

There was once a dark period of my life that I wondered why I suffered that much. I hated my talent, as it gives me more sufferings than joys. Like a pearl that has already been disposed on the corner of a roadside full of weeds, nobody really will admire it. Though a passerby might have glanced its beautiful lustre, they thought it was just the sunshine reflecting on a rubble. I think I should start a path for art, using the life experience as fertilisers, so that I can create something unique.

Grandma wants me to be a painter

 After the new year of 2026, I dreamed of grandma a lot. Every time she said to me in the dream that she loved me very much. Then when I woke up and started to paint in the morning, I recalled an event in the past.

At that time, I was still living with grandma and working as a researcher. "If you are not happy," my grandma said, "you can try something you like. For example, you can paint. I know that you were painting very well when you were just a child." I was shocked, and asked, "How do you know that?" "I of course know. How can't I know that when everyone from your maternal granny's village knows that. They said you could paint as well as a grownup who had learned painting for years, even when you were a child at primary school." Then I bought some tools from a supermarket, and tried to paint a house. But it looked ugly. "I've lost my capability." I sighed. "Don't mind that" she said, "You can't recovery the skills by one attempt." Then she said, "But I believe one day you will be able to paint well again. I think you can even be a famous painter."

"Are you joking? How can I be famous in painting?" I smiled and said. "You can do things as hard as scientific research. Why can't you do something easier? I know you also have great talent in art. If you're not happy working in a university, grandma doesn't want you to be there. I want you to be a painter! And I know you can!”

How to Define “Beautiful “

A few days ago, while walking in an alley near my old home, I stumbled upon an art gallery. I was surprised to find one in such an old residential area. I stepped inside and said "hello" to the owner. "I couldn't have imagined an art gallery here, since vehicles cannot drive down this path," I said. The owner smiled and replied, "Business is hard, and life is hard." I asked, "May I walk around and have a look?" He nodded.

There were Chinese paintings hanging on the wall. Most were landscapes, with a few portraits. They were beautiful, but not stunning as the techniques and styles were very traditional and lacked innovation. I wanted to leave, so I said to the owner, "I have to go now, but I must admit they are beautiful."
"Beautiful or not is very subjective," the owner said. "For any picture, there will always be some people who says it beautiful while others do not."
"I agree with you," I said. "A painting becomes expensive when a rich person says it is beautiful, even though that rich person might not really admire it."
"Exactly!" the owner sighed.
"The paintings are good, but didn’t know the gallery just because it isn't located on a main road where vehicles can drive.” I said, and then I left.

Recording Life with a painting Brush

Next to the bridge to Bribie Island, there is a Sandstone Point Hotel, which is located on the shore with a beautiful ocean view. Our family went there on a sunny Saturday. Merrily and enthusiastically, our boys refused to return home when they were playing in a playground on the top of a hill near the shore. "Why not have a walk in the lawn outside?" I said, "A few funny birds have been raised there, for which I don't know the names." Then the elder brother was holding the little hand of the younger one, laughing, giggling, and running here and there. I hurried to turn on my mobile phone to take a few photos. The photos captured the real scenes well, but they were lack of expressions of my own feelings and sentiments, which has driven me to paint the watercolour picture "Brothers" recently. I first used a dip pen to apply very light black colour to draw the boundaries of the boys. Then I slowly applied colours on them, first for the skin, then the clothes and finally the hairs. I wish they will be grateful to have a brother to play together at childhood and will love each other after they have grown up. I focus much for the boys on the picture, and after that, I loosely painted the backgrounds such as the lawn, the paths, trees and the sky. I tried to paint it in a more casual style,  so that my sentiments can over the picture with the colours more freely.

I recollect that painting was used to be my most favourite activity during childhood. I almost painted everything around me every day, though few people from school knew this until one day I presented a gouache painting of a village as a homework of school holiday. The village is my mother's hometown, and my grandma was still living there at that time. Every school holiday, I would spend a couple of weeks there, accompanying my grandma who typically lived there alone, but for that time my grandpa had back home from Hong Kong. "You paintings are great, and I'm proud of you!" Grandpa said, "But why not use a larger paper?" "I don't have paper in larger size." I said. Then he walked straight to a giant calendar on the wall, starring there for a while, and said, "I've no longer like it but you can paint on the back of the paper." He pulled a piece of paper from the calendar, and asked me to follow him to the entrance of the village where there were many pine trees standing by a pond. When the new semester started, almost all of my classmates shocked when they saw me submit the painting, and many of them ran to me to confirm if it was really done by myself. "He owns a seed of art, and is keen to find out different ways to solve problems in mathematics." My teacher gave such a comment in my student report. When the high school teacher got the report, she paid little attention to my potential in art, but said she's glad to know I was good at maths. At that time math was usually considered as an important foundation to a large number of professional careers, while art was only usually suggested for hobbies. As it had become clear that I could earn a life through STEM in future, my artist dream had been fully abandoned.

Very recently, as my sons like painting, I have resumed my painting as a hobby so that I can play with them. It is one of the most correct changes that I've ever made. On the day when I abandoned my painting brush, I'd also abandoned the way to appreciate surrounding things in life, and I've blocked the most effective way for me to express myself. Through picking up the painting brush again, I again picked up my approach to communicate with the world for many things, my philosophy, my feelings, my mind, and my sentiments. The beautiful views that I've often ignored, have again been impressed; while even the suffers in the past have become precious life experience that can nourished my art!