Chinese music reverberated through the hall. Two-meter-square panels hung side by side for 100 meters down the long wall. Wang Zijian, 37, stepped back a few steps, and stared for a while at the profound space created by the mountains and clouds he had just drawn. After catching his breath, Wang dipped his brush into the black Indian ink and immediately began moving it along an earlier-drawn precipice at dazzling speed. A pine tree sprang to life as the tip of his brush whipped lightly over the panel. The throng of spectators focused their eyes on the subtle movement of Wang's brush and sensed his creative spirit emanating from his bobbing back.
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