On my desk, there was a hand-woven vase, about ten centimeters high, which I bought in Mengshan last spring, and I can't remember whether it was five yuan or eight yuan. It was still green when I first bought it, and I watched it turn brown little by little. How much effort does it take for this hand-woven vase, the bulging belly, the "shy" mouth, the meticulous and meticulous branches, and the circle of winding?
The sister-in-law who sold my vase said that her old man could weave it in the morning. Tired of writing, or tired of reading, I often look at this vase. In his mind, the branches in an old man's hand were alive, and with his heartbeat, little by little, he carefully woven his patience into the vase. Staring at the vase, I will also think of the beginning of Sun Li's novel "Lotus Pond": "The moon rises, the yard is very cool, very clean, and the broken reeds during the day are moist and moist, just right to make up the mat." The woman sat in the middle of the courtyard, her fingers wrapped around her silky and slender reed eyebrows. Reed's eyebrows were thin and thin, jumping in her arms. ”
This is the work of the hand, this is the work of the hand. With the body temperature of the hand, with the expression and heartbeat of the person, with the breath of the world. What is stained with hands has uniqueness. When a friend gives me a book, I will urge me to sign it, because I signed it, because I moved my hand, I have a connection with the book. Handmade things (except garbage, etc.) have a taste.
I particularly like the great novelist Sherwood Anderson, who influenced Hemingway, Faulkner, Steinbeck and many others, who was a writer of writers. His "Small Town Deformity" was not liked at first, and then he loved it. From Anderson's works, it is clear that he is attached to and praised "handmade", he believes that culture is produced from the hand, and the person who does the craft is the father of the artists of later generations. The love of appearance, the love of things, is all between their fingers, without which true culture cannot be produced. The novel begins with Hand, which portrays a Biederbaum who can pick one hundred and forty quarts of strawberries with two hands. At that time, Anderson's thoughts gushed and wrote this article in one breath. Twenty years later, I still recount the excitement of the creation in a letter to my friends, and I can't help but praise "this is a very beautiful story"—a story about the hand, a sad story about the hand.
Three years ago, in order to interview the great relocation of the Yellow River beach area, the writer Dorattu and I ran along the river from the Yellow River to The first stop of Dongming, all the way to the mouth of the Yellow River in Dongying. Dongming is taught by oral tradition, all by hand dyeing of folk blue printed cloth; the use of the natural shape and color of seed particles, carefully pasted and created grain paintings; maintaining the traditional folk kneading and clay pottery craft characteristics, ingenious and complete, simple and frank techniques, clear and orderly, clear and smooth lines, self-contained Juancheng Xiejia brick sculpture; because the shape is like a toad with four legs, fried out of the belly bulging outside the soft, unique flavor of Liangshan "fried toad"; cylindrical, standing in unison, like a small chef's hat, The skin is wheat yellow with a fried bun of Lijin. There is also the roughness of the paper cut, the ironing of the wheat pole painting, and the flexibility of the reed painting. Wait a minute. The Yellow River moisturizes people's hands, and this hand has dexterity, warmth, and beauty.
I remembered what Shandong writer Zhang Wei said when mourning mr. Feng Zhongyi, a literary predecessor: "His hand warmed my hand, which made me a little unbearable when I think about it today... The hand of an intellectual is exactly the same as the hand of a laborer, and it is very beautiful. I would like to say back to my husband: As a student, a junior who has stepped into the intellectual circles of literature, I must take good care of my hands and never let them be contaminated. Zhang Wei also used his hand to paint a circle of bright colors on "Shandong Hand-made": "Sound", "A Pool of Clear Water", "Into the Wild Land", "Ancient Ship", "You are on the Plateau"...
Many years ago, I received mr. Pan Lusheng's "Handicraft Countryside", which recorded a number of "Shandong hand-made". With this book, I participated in two "intangible heritage" research activities organized by the Shandong Provincial Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference, and I felt a lot from what I saw in the book to the touch of my eyes and hands.
The value and charm of "Shandong Hand-made" is unconcealable, it retains the cultural genes of the nation, we must make the cultural genes of the nation stimulate new creativity, form the expression and application of modern life, to avoid being submerged, assimilated, forgotten, we must pay attention to the value of the hand.
"Shandong Hand-made" revitalization, it is easy to say it, but it is difficult and difficult to do. 11 years ago, I went to Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan, to interview at a brewery about Japan's centuries-old liquor brewing process. A painting in the office of the winemaker Mr. Nagayama impressed me deeply: "Peach Chestnut Three Years Persimmon Eight Years, Dharma Nine Years My Life." Mr. Nagayama said that this writing reminds himself that peaches and chestnuts take three years to flower, while persimmons take eight years to bear fruit, Dharma spends up to nine years to face the wall, compared to Dharma's nine years, I have to exhaust my life. That is to say, everything must take time, patience and waiting, mellow wine is made of patience day by day.
Let's do it together. Let hand to hand talk, let the heart and the heart echo. "Shandong hand-made", to be patient, impatient, impatient. "What is Nengnai?" To be able to endure is to be able to endure. "This is what my grandfather who was a Chinese medicine doctor said, I didn't believe it when I was a child, people over fifty, I believed."