[ryuurui]

I think what you are referring to is "moving spirit" also known as gyouki in Japanese or xing qi in Chinese - 行気. It is energy flow in the work. It can be referred to many things: hesitation of the calligrapher during writing, inconsistent ink color, broken connection between characters (be it explicit or implicit - mentioned above 連綿体), jagged edges of the line cause by incorrect brush handling or damaged hairs, and so on.

Gyouki is a definition of vigor. Simply, if it;s absent a work will be dull.

I have a passage (few actually) about this in my book, "Marvellous Ink", which should be published in a second half of this year:

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Imagine, that during writing the only metaphysical connection between a calligraphers body, his mind and the paper is the tip of the brush. One could say that an ocean of emotions is being stirred by single floss. Picture the energy sparking during writing. Insane condensation of passion and feelings, pure heart’s images are being channelled by means of a few hairs　of the brush tuft. It is for a reason that they are referred to as "hairs of life" (命毛, inochige). They are the very soul of the brush, impossible to control with muscles in your arm, yet tamable with power of mind and years of practice.

Hesitation in sho makes the final work worthless, as it ruins the flow of 気 (ki, energy). Such sakuhin (作品, ready made work) can be only used for self correction and reflection on our weaknesses. Through diligent studies, meditation and perseverance we train our body to respond subconsciously, and our mind to enter state of nothingness (無心, mushin), or emptiness, by discarding any thoughts.

It is said that if one holds and operates the brush correctly, the mind recognises it and will be led by the spiritual presence of ancient masters. To become truly powerful, one needs to learn how to control himself first. The state of complete detachment is an incredible sensation, halting time and freezing world in place, allowing the artist to search into the depths of his soul, blinding him to all that is irrelevant. Subconsciously, controlling the brush, he discards the physical world allowing his mind to fully express itself. Such practice also assists him in searching for his own style. Sho written this way is a raw mirror reflection of the heart itself.


Taming our emotions we stabilise both our mind and body, while our subconciousness leads the brush through paper, undisturbed as if in a sleepless dream, allowing us full expressiveness. Esoteric studies of calligraphy techniques in connection with their philosophical origins are a foundation for creating personal style, slumbering patiently under the lining of reality, like an ancient dragon.


Copying works of great masters for studying purposes to widen our knowledge of various styles, and deliberately using them as ours, are two different things however. Learning from classics makes us understand and appreciate different approaches. It awakens respect to the art and innovatory tries of our ancestors. Engaging power of will and mind to continue on a journey of discovering limits of imagination should be the aim here. Copying only achievements of others will cause us to move backwards in our studies, and our sho to appear bleached of originality, thus powerless and lacking its natural brilliance. Further, through “assembling” “borrowed” stimulants it will lose its uniformity, and be felt as inconsistent, kitschy or even vulgar.

There is a great story illustrating the above. Over the gateway to the Chinese city of Ling’an there was a large sign that read “Conquest of the Southeast Country,” written by master calligrapher Tu Zhuo (屠倬1781-1828). Passing time has caused a part of the second out of four characters to fade and it needed a touch up. Since Tu Zhuo could not be located, his student undertook the task. Officials of the county were more than satisfied with the final result. Sometime later, Wang Wenzhi (王文治1730 - 1802), a senior court officer, was passing the gate and stopped to read the sign. His famous words go:

“Those four characters look like three live dragons and one dead snake.”
The dead snake was a reference to the corrected character.


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Copyrights: 2010 Piotr Ponte-sypniewski

In short, the "dead snake" is sho with broken 行気.