In the fertile mountains and forests of the north in autumn, the palette generally shows a more mature color system, and the most dazzling purpose of this period is bright yellow, which comes from the soybean field that is about to be harvested, and under the projection of the sun, it is definitely not inferior to the sea of rape flowers in the southern spring. The bright yellow color full of excitement and hope also comes from the patches of birch tips, which are the first to be bleached yellow, and they are also the most eye-catching.
This summer's heavy rains have turned many low-lying areas into wetland swamps, affecting many crop crops and testing the water tolerance of trees that have been immersed in water for a long time.
The low temperature day by day makes the cattle, sheep and horses feel that there is not much time to eat fresh grass every day, so that they are dedicated to eating the yellowing stems and leaves without distraction.
Five years ago, the villages and counties with the remains of the Western Route of the Middle East Railway traveled throughout the villages, counties and villages, collected a lot of images, and also painted a number of graffiti paintings; five years later, he traveled west again, but only chose three places: Ang Ang Creek, Boktu, and Zalantun.
Seeing the half-baked street buildings of Aung Ang Creek evokes memories of five years ago. Some of the old Russian-style houses have been renovated, and some are still being implemented. The main road was paved, and the mud potholes before were no longer seen. The iconic Railway Club and the old railway station have also been transformed into masonry buildings.
Sketching and taking pictures, I stopped here for an afternoon and found that none of the old renovated buildings were open, and all the doors were guarded by the "Iron General", including a public bathroom.
Ang Ang Creek, a corner of Qiqihar in the crane city of An'an, should be an enclave outside the city, because there are a large number of old houses and old buildings, because there is a different way of life, it should be a historical and differentiated urban model. But the empty, uninhabited buildings, although new in appearance, are only for tourists to take some photos in a hurry. Between emptiness and brevity, how can people be willing to stay and carefully read here?
A sketch, completed just before a heavy rain came. It was dusk, and I had to drive more than 20 kilometers to Qiqihar overnight.
Head west into the mountains and arrive at the small town of Boktu in the southern foothills of the Daxing'an Mountains.
The old friends who want to visit happen to be out of the house, and immediately go to visit some other "old friends" - the old buildings that have been photographed and painted a few years ago.
Fortunately, several historical buildings in the town have been cared for and reused by people of insight for many years, and continue to push out the unique cultural nutrients of Boktu; unfortunately, the civil forces are weak, and most of the remaining "listed" buildings have not been treated kindly, aging, withering, and dilapidated, everywhere.
In the "second store", which existed like a supply and marketing cooperative in the early years, the counter shelves that were still dimly lit and full of pulp were full of flowers and greenery, and above the shelves were hand-painted advertising posters with gray and faded. Near the bright light of the window, a group of elderly people sat around, smoking cigarettes, sipping tea, and playing "upgrades" .
Outside the "two shops", the only market in the town, it is warm all day. People who came out of the stalls in the morning, with white heat between their mouths and noses, had already put on cotton jackets and down jackets to resist the cold cold of the early morning in the mountains.
Needing to replenish my supplies, I entered a grocery store to buy bottled water, and what I heard was the confident expression of the big sister of the owner of the small milk cat shop: "We have good water here, my family does not sell bottled water".
Avoiding the dense "shell craters" along the way, bumping on the overmolded road, at a speed of thirty kilometers per hour along national highway 232 to Zarantun. Fortunately, on the way, I frequently met with the beautiful Yalu River, and stopped at a deep river beach, and painted a sketch with an umbrella in the rain, which is also the greatest compensation and comfort.
The small town of Zalantun, a brand new street, looks neat and tidy, walking comfortably, but it is rare. A special visit to the Middle East Railway Museum, which was missed five years ago.
Next to the Suiman railway line, unlike the century-old water tower decorated with a new yellow and brilliant color, the Russian-style houses near the railway station are fenced off, and the indigenous people have long been removed. Unwillingly, I found the one that had sketched last time, with a wood-carved pavilion on the outside and a carved "lantern moon" line on the inside, and of course, it was empty. This situation is strikingly similar to the old road outside Harbin.
Attached horizontal and vertical frames can be seen on almost all of the historic walls of Zarantun, which were uniformly done a few years ago to reinforce old buildings. But in my opinion, these exposed reinforcement components are really not beautiful, like putting crutches on the old house frame, and like a suffocating hoop, simple and rough.
Although they all sell with a Northeastern accent, I am most attracted by the freshly peeled oil-green silkworm pupae that are rarely seen elsewhere in the morning market, the wild hazelnuts freshly fried in the big converter, and the slippery soup in the entrance.
Speaking of eating, Zarantun's haggis soup, sheep scorpions, water-popping belly, hand-grabbed lamb, plus milk tea, made me extremely happy to nibble on bread and eat instant noodles for several days.
I call this a patch on the Trip to the Western Route of the Middle East Railway five years ago. With the help of bystanders and illuminations after a gap of five years, the emotions and impressions are mixed, and the creation of this subject is enriched. It's rare to have time, and what's in front of you is the best.
Chen Song
2021.9.16In ice city spring zhai
Sketching tidbits
Born in Harbin in 1975, he is an independent designer, calligraphy and painting researcher, freelance writer, senior engineer, national senior interior architect, and member of Heilongjiang Artists Association. After graduating from university in 1997, he has been engaged in interior design, and in recent years, he has mainly focused on the creation of watercolor paintings, founded the self-media public platform [Izumisai Xiaozuo], and practiced the combination of original art and space design.
About Izumisai Kosai: Whatever your heart desires, you can always do. Share with friends the design, painting, photography, calligraphy, seal carving, food and other works of art and related texts of Chen Song, the owner of Quanzhai, to add beauty, send imagination, and project identity.