Zhang Bin  Born in 1966 in Huhehaote, Neimenggu Province, Zhang Bin graduated with a Masters degree from Jingdezhen Ceramic Institute, and then transferred to Beijing Institute of Graphic Communication. He is associate professor, vice-director of Department of Design & Arts. Now he entered the doctoral program at Chinese Academy of Arts, as a division chief working in Olympic Village Beijing Organizing Committee.

In Memory of a Wise Man, My Mentor Shi Yuren

by Zhang Bin

Shi Di (Shi Yuren and Liu Haixian’s younger son) came to Beijing a while ago to attend the ceremony for the acceptance of a work by Shi Yuren into the Forbidden Palace (Gu gong) Museum’s collection. During our brief meeting, Shi Di asked me to write a preface for this exhibition catalogue.

For me, that was a hectic time as I was occupied with preparations for the Beijing Olympics. I had no breathing space until the closing ceremonies were over. Even at that point, I had not a moment of rest since I had duties to fulfill for the Para-Olympic Games. Eventually, as I recalled my promise to Shi Di, my

mind was flooded with memories of Professor Shi Yuren, memories as fresh as yesterday’s even though 12 years had passed since his death.

In 1992, I left the bleak Inner Mongolia steppe and headed for the porcelain capital Jingdezhen located in beautiful, green southern China. For me, it was a dream come true: to study with the renowned master Shi Yuren. Shi Di met me at the train station and took me to his father’s home located on the Jingdezhen Ceramic Institute campus. Seeing flowers in bloom and green vines, I could immediately sense that Shi Yuren lived life passionately and fully. I was soon put at ease by his relaxed, easy-going manner and mellow temperament; it was as if I had met an elderly kinsman in a foreign land. Knowing I was from Inner Mongolia, he told me about his visit to that place with its endless steppes, white clouds billowing in a blue sky, meandering rivers, and crystal-clear lakes.

Shi Yuren always lived up to his name which means “generous and dignified.” Throughout my 3 years of MFA studies, he was my mentor as well as my surrogate parent; he was tough regarding my work, but ready always to tend to my needs with the greatest care. At that time, Jingdezhen had no indoor heating other than a small charcoal burner. In figure drawing class, Shi Yuren cautioned me not to let the model sit too long for fear of catching a cold. In those days, communications systems were rather limited. Every weekend, I used to go to Shi Yuren’s home to use his phone to call my family thousands of miles away in Inner Mongolia. His wife, Liu Haixian, would cook a big meal and urge me to “have more!” “You are from Mongolia,” she said, “and you like red meat.” Sometimes I enjoyed a drink or two with Shi Yuren. If Shi Guo [Shi Yuren and Liu Haixian’s older son] and Shi Di happened to be home, the whole family enjoyed a cheerful dinner full of conversation. I became part of the family, too.

Shi Yuren was a dedicated scholar, one of the first ceramic professors in China, part of the avant-garde of the new Chinese ceramic arts. A cultured man, he emphasized learning traditional foundation knowledge, paying close attention to nature, and studying the entire spectrum of the ceramic process. One time, I came across a paperback entitled Porcelain Polychrome Painting which was printed on coarse paper; I was completely taken in by its rich content. Later, I learned that the book was mostly written and edited by Shi Yuren, but under the special difficult circumstances of those times, he was not credited. I have since read many books on this topic, but none can compare to his book in terms of precise detail and depth of understanding about Chinese porcelain culture. In retrospect, his was the first classical text in ceramic art and education since the beginning of the People’s Republic of China.

Shi Yuren’s work never followed any particular rules. It included an ingenious mixture of  traditional vessels, large-scale tile murals, and daily functional ware. In 1976, Zhu Danian and Shi Yuren collaborated on “Song of the Forest”, a large mural made for the Beijing Airport. This work became the most thought-provoking piece of the 1980’s in China’s ceramic art circle, and it stimulated broad debate. Shi Yuren always loved the traditional doucai (overglaze polychrome) process with its dramatic, lively effects achieved through strong contrasts among colors. He was also expressive in the wucai (five colors) style, disregarded any potential limitations among colors, and mixed in western painting styles in an original way. The colors he chose were rich without being loud, and the play among contrasting colors was bright and crisp, without being discordant. His work exudes grandeur and confidence: he absorbed much from the folk arts and rearranged ideas, which morphed into a unique contemporary style.

Shi Yuren was passionate about nature. He derived inspiration from the flowers and plants in his own prodigious garden. On our travels together, he took great interest in the species he had not encountered before. Sometimes he would collect samples and take them home for further scrutiny. He named his two sons “Fruit” and “Stem” which reveals his admiration for nature. He always applied what he learned from nature to his art. In 1993, we were commissioned to produce a mural for Inner Mongolia. Shi Yuren talked about his original ideas for the design, geometry, and so on. Borrowing examples from the relationships found in the natural world and from the rules regarding flowers and leaves, leaves and branches, he combined all elements into the piece for the mural, a work depicting the large in the small, the extraordinary in the ordinary. This collaboration provided me with the ultimate in education.

Shi Yuren enjoyed life to the fullest. He loved dancing, and at every party at Jingdezhen Ceramic Institute, he could be found on the dance floor. During those first years of China’s “open-door” policy, he lived a simple life, just like everyone else. His home had very few pieces of furniture, but his walls were covered with drawings and his shelves filled with ceramic works, especially his students’ works. Shi Yuren was an expert in shards, which he collected constantly. He had bagfuls of shards from all different dynasties, and he took great pleasure in studying them whenever he had a little free time. He told me a single shard reflects the entire life of the time it was made, and handling them was equivalent to knowing history. At 60 years old, he was a bundle of energy. Perhaps the torture and suffering he experienced had taught him to appreciate life ever more fully.

On the 4th of March in 1996, I was home in Inner Mongolia when I got an unexpected telephone call from Shi Di in Jingdezhen. “Dad passed away yesterday,” he said, choking back tears. The tragic news struck me like a thunderclap. I was in total shock and wept silently. I couldn’t find any words to speak -- this man whose best days had just arrived, but whose life had suddenly come to a tragic end. On this same day, my son was born. Was it God’s will?

I had been apart from Shi Yuren for 13 years, but his words were as clear as if he had just spoken them: “Zhang Bin, commit to your work and stay focused on it. You must endure the loneliness. You must not be afraid of feeling isolated.” This is at the heart’s core of his understanding of life, which has guided me throughout my own.

Translated by Yenfen Huang and Carla Coch