此情可待成追忆 ——何以有曾锦德
Memories Awaiting Remembrance — On the Legacy of Zeng Jinde
文 / 闫新生（中国艺术研究院特约研究员、执教于中央美术学院）
By Yan Xinsheng (Special Researcher, Chinese National Academy of Arts; Lecturer, Central Academy of Fine Arts)
摘要：
作者随曾锦德之子曾路深入德化二厂——其艺术生命的核心场域。这里曾是劳改厂旧址，聚集了八百位刑满释放者，身份各异的“异类”与曾锦德共同生活，复杂的人际环境与家庭的多舛命运对其灵魂形成深刻撞击，促使其艺术走向冷僻、非主流而高度纯粹的境界。其大写意风格并非凭空而来，而是根植于德化民窑瓷器上简洁明快、充满生活气息的民间绘画传统，疏狂落拓中蕴含隽永文气。曾锦德晚年栖居于多元交融的泉州古城，其艺术精神与李贽的叛逆、弘一的超脱遥相呼应，实现了艺术与生命的高度统一。
关键词：曾锦德；德化二厂；异类同事；大写意；地域文化；文人精神；泉州；闽南；德化瓷；
⸻
太行山写生，我请曾路来作班长，缘于他在画画，确切说他要开始学画，他学画的深层原因是他想与他逝去的父亲曾锦德对话并探知其作品的意义。他直觉这非常不易，因为他相信他父亲的高度，他是知不可为而为之。我亦奇怪，向来喜欢他这种腰背挺直、油盐不进、一意孤行的样子，乐意支持他的远足，就说等他考虑清楚了，再一块儿就曾锦德的作品作一次大整理，他欣欣然，我茫茫然，看来话不能随便说。
凑巧的是今年冬天课结束得早，又遇北方大霾，我想一边躲霾一边做点事，曾路想“让老师尽早离开邯郸，那个不适合人类居住的地方”，到他们冬暖花开的泉州去享受一下。我们一拍即合，原本虚无缥缈的福建之行一夜间搞定。
我飞到厦门时才发现，花是开着，但气候并不象曾路向我描述的那么温暖，俨然北方残秋的样子，还得穿毛衣夹克，晚上得盖厚被，坐久了还冷。亏得天不暖人暖，我们俩又非第一次合作，已有八九分的默契，不到一个礼拜的时间就把书编出个样子来了。不过，与助手视屏通话时才知已经被电脑弄的“眼眶发黑，又见消瘦”“白老头儿变成黑老头儿了”。之后曾路安排休息去戴云山，途经德化二厂曾锦德艺术生命中最重要的地方，一路不断的有人与曾路打招呼挽留吃饭喝茶拉家长。他们是曾锦德的同事故友和学生，他们谈曾锦德的瓷，谈他的艺术教学，谈他痛饮酒读离骚，也打听定居美国的曾明，曾锦德当年十岁的小女儿，在他们的回忆中这个小丫头玩着玩着就爬上了二厂的大烟囱，从兰天白云上面鸟瞰山城俯视二厂，全厂的人为之震动惊异。离开二厂的路上曾路还给我讲了一件当时令大家讳莫如深的事，就是曾明所做的另一个惊人之举。她从小就喜欢小孩，但苦于知道成人了才可带小孩儿，就一直没有实践自己的“理想”，成年后的一年，她终于有了机会不知从哪里就抱回一个刚出生的婴儿，曾锦德不仅没有反对，还喜欢得不得了，帮她喂养，帮她带大。一个未出嫁的姑娘这样做，别人会不会误解是曾锦德想都不去想的事情，他活在自己喜欢的世界里。但这个自己喜欢的世界充满阴霾，他的家庭事务处理得一团糟。给二儿子起名曾日夭折了，又给小儿子起名曾阳又没了，妻子因此长病难医，只剩下顽强的路与明，可以说是不加人力的“疯长”的成功。他不是不负责任，是非常的负责，只是挠不到痒处，他是不折不扣的活在自己的世界里，他是个成人般懵懵懂懂的孩子，他从资本家的阔少爷熬到作为“升斗小民”的老爷爷，并没有“成熟”的迹象。当然他有成熟的事情，香港的杨胜来泉州看他，他当时工资小几十元，杨胜住华侨宾馆一夜一二百元，他诧异了说，香港人睡一觉那么贵啊？杨胜送一条几百元的香烟，他那里舍得抽？说饱汉不知饿汉饥。这其实是他年轻时的作派，沦落到他指责别人，能不成熟吗？
从曾锦德的老同事嘴里知道他们和曾锦德所属的德化第二瓷厂原是劳改厂，劳改厂解散后留下八百位不愿离开这片土地的刑满释放人员，与他们共同劳动生活，其中有黄埔军校的毕业生，有知名的外科医生，有日后远赴美国台湾的学者教授，他们犯的是诸如里通外国、现行反革命、坏分子、右派和作风等方面的罪。曾锦德大学毕业分配到这里时，还有戴着手铐脚镣工作的“重犯”，我不知道曾锦德与他们走的是远是近，但交往是不可避免的吧。谁都知道艺术根本就不是现实生活的照相，确实是主观的生命感受，客观的智慧觉悟，从后来曾锦德思想的深度、冷僻和非主流可以知道他的灵魂受到过相当的撞击，其中自然免不了有生活的落差和艰难，有不为人知的隐痛，恐怕与这群异类同事的关系最是有关，以至被撞击得清醒，被撞击得抖掉枝节、抖掉尘土和污秽，难怪古人有振衣千仞岗，濯足万里流的豪迈。当然撞击也会起负作用，那是另外一种人，另外一个话题。我们从曾锦德的画册看到，他只是被洗涤和被纯粹，也可以说更坚定了他那天然的自然而然的我行我素的纯粹。虽然，曾锦德的年代已经过去，老职工有的还在，遗风犹存。在德化的酒楼上，一位曾锦德的旧友68岁才学开车，如今已是八十多岁的老人，竟然隔桌“进步进步、阿路阿路”的狂叫，要与后辈拼酒干杯。不敢说他有怎样的底气，但这种气魄是曾锦德们的缩影应该无疑。我和曾路在泉州的古文化街就看到一位店主，手机里居然存有10年前与曾锦德一起吃酒的照相，气魄和作派，不差上下。
由于并无北方空气优良的消息传来，时间裕余，我们从戴云山写生回来后兴之所至又在德化多呆了一天。晚上散步时在河边瓷店遇到一位略显矮胖的官员“诗人”兼店主，闲聊间，他眯眼仰望自己放在高高货架上面的陶渊明小瓷像，慢慢吐出自作打油一首，并伴以向远方缓缓滑动手掌的动作......说实话谈不上诗，但在那个异乡的夜晚与诗的话题不期而遇有一种意外的惊喜，沉浸于“诗人”营造的悠然自得之境，忘了什么诗不诗的只要心中有乐。现在想来曾锦德能在这样的境里生活也是幸福的。曾路没有夸大，德化人心中确有一分诗意。“诗人”把第一句念了多遍，大家欢喜，仿佛他念叨的不是他的打油，而是陶公的“採菊东篱下悠然见南山，此中有真意欲辨已忘言”。抑或是苏轼的“微雨竹窗夜话，抚琴听者知音”，我肃然起敬。白天是去一个纪念馆，馆主是一位洒落、温文、古朴又时尚的很德化的年轻人，一如辜元晨对曾路的戏说，女孩样，菩萨相。其父的纪念馆里堆满了德化旧瓷，随便摆放，不以为意。据曾路说，其文物价值要高于德化博物馆。年轻人也告诉我，德化博物馆的那件镇馆之宝何朝宗的作品是他家父的捐赠。瓷我不懂，但上面的好画简洁明快，大写意作风，确实让人看得手舞足蹈。有种田的，有读书的，有过桥客有凭栏人，山水花鸟四君子，亭台楼阁太湖石，应有尽有。曾锦德的落拓、疏狂、裕余、文气，不衫不履、粗服乱头、甚至“杂乱无章”，乃至他的迅疾、甚至过速过轻的行笔都在这里找到了祖宗，我开始知道他为什么能把生活气息弄得扑面而来了。曾锦德本来就是一个瓷家，甚至连主流的官方殿堂都不得不承认他的高度，他毫无疑问从德化的瓷中了悟了艺术的秘密，技术只是技术而已，重要的是肺的呼吸，血的流动，身体的温度和有无灵魂。说到灵魂，我不能不再次谈及“此地本为佛国”的泉州。泉州是曾锦德晚年逗留之地，当他感到大限将临之时，曾让曾路陪他去过清源山，弘一圆寂之地。泉州过去是国际化港口，宗教林立，华夷杂处，是离经叛道李贽的故乡。城里往来有外国的王公贵族，至今也有他们的后裔，邻人依旧对之王子公主的相称。泉州也是当代艺术的是非之地，曾锦德悠游其中，从形色看是一个普通的邻家大爷，从画册看是极不普通的大手笔，从灵魂深处，他会不会在这里继续游荡，影响以至升华，天知道。继续说德化的瓷吧。我们还可借德化瓷上反反复复的典型题材《书生课读》之类了解到曾锦德当时所能触及到的写意的古魂，“古虬老树之下，回形勾栏之旁，少年学子席地临几而坐，面前书卷厚迭，案上香烟缭绕，经藉既盛，学术斯昌，在偏僻的德化山区，文风蔚然”。题字往往是“晨兴半柱香”“平生志气与天高” “要通古今事，须读五车书” “林间有客无人识，欵乃声中万古心”，最后一句意味深长，无疑是古来学人的宿命，也写照着曾锦德的宿命。
别看福建交通要塞树起了“闽中一隐曾锦德”的大牌，但一隐终归是一隐，他的大写意艺术是没有人认识的。要被认识不知道还要走多远的路程？路程的尽头有多大希望也未可知。他和他的大写意艺术终归已经是稀有物种了。物极必反，我能理解曾路大牌树起的俗动，但不知能理解我故作高声的人是谁。
丙申除夕丁酉初一有闲堂上 闫新生
（2017年1月28日）
⸻
This Sentiment Can Only Become Memory — On Zeng Jinde
By Yan Xinsheng (Special Researcher, China National Academy of Arts; Lecturer, Central Academy of Fine Arts)
Text:
During the plein air painting session in the Taihang Mountains, I appointed Zeng Lu as the team leader, because he had begun painting himself. The deeper reason for his painting was that he wanted to engage in a dialogue with his late father, Zeng Jinde, and understand the meaning of his works. He instinctively knew this would not be easy, as he respected his father’s artistic stature, yet he proceeded knowing the difficulty. I was also intrigued and, having always admired his upright, incorruptible, and resolute nature, I gladly supported his expedition, suggesting that once he made up his mind, we could undertake a comprehensive review of Zeng Jinde’s works together. He was delighted, while I remained somewhat bewildered—it became clear that words should not be spoken lightly.
By coincidence, that winter the classes ended early, and the northern region was shrouded in haze. I wanted to avoid the pollution and simultaneously engage in some work, while Zeng Lu hoped to “allow his teacher to leave Handan, an inhospitable place for humans,” to enjoy the mild winter in Quanzhou. We quickly agreed, and what had been a vague plan for Fujian became concrete overnight.
Upon arriving in Xiamen, I realized that although flowers were in bloom, the weather was not as warm as Zeng Lu had described—it resembled the lingering autumn chill of the north, requiring sweaters and jackets, and thick blankets at night. Fortunately, human warmth compensated, and as this was not our first collaboration, we had already established a tacit understanding; in less than a week, we managed to compile a draft of the book. However, during a video call with my assistant, I learned that I had become “dark-eyed and emaciated” from working with the computer, humorously turning this white-haired old man into a “black old man.”
Zeng Lu then arranged a break to visit Daiyun Mountain, passing through Dehua’s Second Porcelain Factory, a site pivotal to Zeng Jinde’s artistic life. Along the way, many people greeted Zeng Lu, inviting him for meals, tea, and conversation. They were Zeng Jinde’s former colleagues, friends, and students. They spoke of his porcelain, his art teaching, his habit of drinking heavily while reciting Li Sao, and even inquired about Zeng Ming, his youngest daughter, who had settled in the United States. In their recollections, this little girl once climbed the factory’s large chimney, looking down from the sky at the city and factory below, astonishing everyone.
On the road leaving the factory, Zeng Lu recounted another remarkable story long kept private: Zeng Ming had loved children from a young age, but, knowing that adult responsibilities limited her ability to care for them, she had never realized this aspiration. Once she had the opportunity as an adult, she inexplicably brought home a newborn infant. Zeng Jinde not only did not oppose this but delighted in helping her feed and raise the child. A young, unmarried woman doing this might have been misunderstood, yet Zeng Jinde never concerned himself with such social judgments; he lived in the world he loved. Yet this world was fraught with difficulties: his second son, Zeng Ri, died young; his youngest son, Zeng Yang, passed away; his wife suffered from prolonged illness, leaving only the resilient Lu and Ming. It could be said that his “uncontrolled growth” succeeded without external interference. He was not irresponsible—he was extremely responsible—but his way of life was unorthodox. He lived entirely within his own world, a grown man with the innocence of a child, surviving from the life of a wealthy capitalist’s son to a humble old man, without showing signs of conventional “maturity.”
Of course, he displayed maturity at times. When Yang Sheng from Hong Kong visited Quanzhou, noticing that Zeng Jinde earned only a few dozen yuan while Yang paid hundreds for a hotel, he exclaimed in surprise. When gifted expensive cigarettes, Zeng Jinde could not bring himself to smoke them, embodying the old saying, “The well-fed do not know the hunger of the starving.” This was his youthful disposition, and when he criticized others, could it be called immature?
From former colleagues, I learned that Zeng Jinde’s workplace, Dehua Second Porcelain Factory, had originally been a labor reform facility. After its dissolution, around 800 released prisoners, unwilling to leave the area, continued working and living there. Among them were graduates of the Whampoa Military Academy, renowned surgeons, and later scholars who would move to the US or Taiwan. They had been convicted of crimes such as collusion with foreign powers, counterrevolution, and other political offenses. When Zeng Jinde was assigned there after university, some inmates were still in handcuffs and shackles. I cannot determine the closeness of his relationships with them, but interactions were unavoidable.
Art is not a photographic replication of reality; it is a subjective experience of life combined with objective awareness. The depth, eccentricity, and nonconformity of Zeng Jinde’s later thinking suggest his soul was deeply challenged. The hardships and contrasts of life were unavoidable, and his relationships with these unconventional colleagues were likely most influential. He was “struck” into clarity, shedding extraneous branches, dust, and impurities, which forged his independent, unrestrained purity. Although his era has passed, some old workers remain, and traces of that legacy endure. At a Dehua teahouse, a friend of Zeng Jinde, who learned to drive at 68 and is now in his eighties, shouted across the table “Progress, progress, A Lu, A Lu!” in a toast to the younger generation. Such spirit exemplifies Zeng Jinde’s generation. On Quanzhou’s ancient cultural street, a shop owner still preserves photographs of a meal with Zeng Jinde taken ten years ago; their boldness and style remain intact.
With northern air still poor, and time sufficient, after returning from Daiyun Mountain, we stayed an extra day in Dehua. While walking by a riverside porcelain shop in the evening, we encountered a slightly short and stout official, a “poet” and shop owner. During casual conversation, he squinted at a small porcelain figurine of Tao Yuanming on a high shelf, performed a slow gesture, and recited a self-composed doggerel… Not exactly poetry, but in that foreign evening, the encounter with this “poet” created an unexpected delight, immersing us in a serene state, forgetting whether it was truly poetry, as long as the heart felt joy. In hindsight, it seems Zeng Jinde was fortunate to live in such a milieu. Zeng Lu did not exaggerate; the people of Dehua indeed possess a poetic sensibility.
During the day, we visited a memorial hall run by a young, elegant, gentle, and fashionably traditional Dehua native. The hall was filled with old Dehua porcelain, arranged casually without concern. According to Zeng Lu, its artifacts were more valuable than those in the Dehua Museum. The young curator also stated that the museum’s prized work by He Chaozong had been donated by his father. While I do not understand porcelain technically, the large freehand painting style on these pieces was vivid and exhilarating. From landscapes and flowers to the Four Gentlemen, pavilions, Taihu stones, everything was represented. Zeng Jinde’s unrestrained, free, abundant, and cultured approach, including rapid and light brushwork, all reflected the ancestral tradition, revealing how he could convey the vitality of life so vividly.
Zeng Jinde was fundamentally a master of porcelain, and even mainstream institutions could not ignore his artistic stature. He comprehended the secrets of art from Dehua porcelain; technique was merely a tool—what mattered were the breath of the lungs, the flow of blood, body temperature, and the presence of a soul. Quanzhou was Zeng Jinde’s place of residence in his later years. As his life neared its end, he had Zeng Lu accompany him to Qingyuan Mountain, where Hong Yi passed away. Historically an international port with diverse religions and cultures, Quanzhou was also the hometown of the iconoclast Li Zhi. Foreign dignitaries frequented the city, and their descendants are still recognized as princes and princesses. Quanzhou is a contested space for contemporary art; Zeng Jinde navigated it with ease. Outwardly, he appeared like any ordinary neighbor; in his works, he was extraordinary. Whether his spirit continues to roam and influence the city remains unknown.
Returning to Dehua porcelain, repeated motifs such as Scholars Studying reveal Zeng Jinde’s engagement with the ancient spirit of freehand painting: “Under ancient twisted trees, by winding railings, young scholars sit on the ground before thick books, incense curling on the table. Knowledge flourishes even in remote Dehua mountains; scholarly culture thrives.” Inscriptions like “Early Morning Half Incense,” “One’s Aspiration Soars to Heaven,” “To Understand Past and Present, One Must Read Extensively,” “A Guest in the Woods Unknown, Yet the Heart Echoes Through Eternity” are profound, reflecting the fate of scholars across time, and mirroring Zeng Jinde’s destiny. Although Quanzhou displays the sign “A Hermit in Central Fujian: Zeng Jinde,” recognition of his large freehand painting art remains distant. The journey to acknowledgment is long, and the full hope at its end is uncertain. His art remains a rare species.
⸻
Yan Xinsheng (Special Researcher, China National Academy of Arts; Lecturer, Central Academy of Fine Arts)
Lunar New Year’s Eve of the Bingshen Year · First Day of the Dingyou Year · Youxian Hall