东坡琴操图 Su Dongpo and Qincao Painting

 

在“翰墨因缘”展览大观近200年中国和新加坡的368幅绘画，琳琅满目，作品主要来自秋斋曾国和先生收藏。一幅任伯年（1840-1895）落款于 1892年的《东坡操琴图》尤其吸引我。

画面上方是一株高挺的松树，树干盘曲遒劲，枝叶以水墨描绘，浓淡相间，展现出松树坚韧不屈的生命力。背景的山石用淡墨皴擦，营造深远幽静的山林意境。画面的下方，苏东坡伏几与一位女性相对而坐，似在谈话。人物衣袍以淡赭、浅粉等色轻染，柔和地与墨色山石形成对比。

既然是“操琴”，而且画题的英文也是“Playing Qin”，那么，“琴”在哪里？

会不会是《东坡琴操图》？画的是苏东坡和杭州名妓琴操谈禅的故事。

扛着三大巨册，9公斤的图录回家，迫不及待再翻看这幅画的介绍，和展场看到的一样画题。查到2016年在香港展览的图录，可能从陈之初处购买时画题就是如此。

夏孙桐（1857-1942）的诗《为秦亮工题费晓楼画东坡参禅图卷》开篇叙述“画中东坡是主人，题诗意多在琴操”，可知这《东坡参禅图》画的就是苏东坡和琴操。清代沙馥（1831-1906）的《琴操参禅图》册页、徐操（1910–1970)的《琴操参禅图》立轴构图都是两人在树下谈话，和任伯年画的相近，不同的是：沙馥和徐操画的琴操屈身站立，态度恭谨，表现虚心问道。

苏东坡和琴操在谈什么呢？较早的纪录见于南宋吴曾《能改齋漫錄》，说能词善歌的琴操曾经改秦观的《滿庭芳》词韵，令苏东坡称道。有一天在西湖边，苏东坡和琴操开玩笑说：“我当长老，你来问话参禅。”

琴操便问：“什么是湖中景？”

东坡回答：“秋水共长天一色，落霞与孤鹜齐飞。” 用的是王勃《滕王閣序》的句子，描绘绚丽的傍晚水光风景。

琴操又问：“什么是景中人？”

东坡回答：“裙拖六幅湘江水，髻挽巫山一段云。” 出自唐代李群玉的《同郑相并歌姬小饮戏赠》，原诗作“鬓耸巫山一段云”。形容美人长长的裙裾像是漫漫的湘江水；高耸的发髻犹如挽着巫山的云。

琴操又问：“什么是人中意？”

东坡回答：“惜他杨学士， 憋杀鲍参军。”这两句话里讲到两个人，“鲍参军”是南朝宋的鲍照，杜甫《春日忆李白》赞美李白的诗“俊逸鲍参军”，说他有鲍照诗的清新洒脱之气。“杨学士”是谁呢？不知为何网上流传说指的是杨日严。杨日严曾经因为貪污被欧阳修弹劾，后来一直企图找机会报复。以苏东坡和欧阳修的关系，肯定不会欣赏杨日严；何况杨日严的名声地位哪里有资格和鲍照相提并论？我认为“杨学士”是指曾任崇文馆学士，初唐四杰之一的杨炯。“惜他杨学士， 憋杀鲍参军”是说才华令杨炯和鲍照都相形见绌。

苏东坡从美景、美人说到美才。 琴操最后问：“如此，究竟如何？”归根到底，这么些好事的结果会是怎么样呢？东坡用白居易《琵琶行》的诗句当头棒喝：“门前冷落车马稀，老大嫁作商人妇。”繁华落尽，你如同琵琶女，老了嫁给商人度过余生。

这，就是人生的结局？琴操听了，当下大悟，于是削发为尼。既然一切的本质是空，出家皈依佛门才能贯彻修行。

这个故事在明代流行，收在蒋一葵《尧山堂外纪》、田汝成《西湖游览志余》、梅鼎祚《青泥莲花记》之类的杂记和小说戏曲中。要注意明清以后的文献将问和答的角色对调，变成东坡问，琴操答，不符合禅宗参话头的形式了。

绘画的题目决定作品的意涵。《東坡操琴图》表现苏东坡的音乐素养；《东坡琴操图》叙说苏东坡点化琴操的传奇。两人从游戏似的“扮演”师生，谈湖中景、景中人、人中意，层层递进，到琴操悟空，真的看破红尘。我更为好奇的是：面对琴操“假戏真做”，苏东坡的反应，是惊讶？还是欣慰?

 

2025年10月25日,新加坡《联合早报》“上善若水”专栏

Su Dongpo and Qincao Painting
by I Lo-fen

In the exhibition “Affinity of Brush and Ink,” 368 paintings spanning nearly 200 years from China and Singapore were displayed, most from the collection of Mr. Khoo Seow Hwa of Chiu Zhai. Among them, one painting particularly caught my attention — Su Dongpo Playing Qin by Ren Bonian (1840–1895), inscribed in 1892.

At the top of the painting stands a tall pine tree with a twisting, vigorous trunk. The branches and leaves, rendered in ink with alternating light and dark tones, embody the tree’s resilient vitality. The background features softly inked rocks and hills, evoking a tranquil and distant mountain forest. Below, Su Dongpo sits across a low desk from a woman, seemingly in conversation. Their robes are tinted lightly with pale ochre and pink, harmoniously contrasting with the darker inked rocks.

Since the title says “Playing Qin,” where is the qin (zither)?
Could it be that the painting’s real subject is Su Dongpo and Qincao — depicting Su Dongpo’s conversation about Zen with the famous Hangzhou courtesan Qincao?

I carried home the three massive exhibition catalogues — nine kilograms in total — and eagerly flipped again to the painting’s description. The title matched exactly what I saw at the exhibition. Checking a 2016 Hong Kong exhibition catalogue, it appears the painting already bore this title when purchased, perhaps from the collector Chen Zhichu.

The Qing poet Xia Suntong (1857–1942), in his poem “Inscribed for Fei Xiaolou’s Painting of Su Dongpo’s Zen Dialogue,” began by saying: “In the painting, Su Dongpo is the master; the poetic idea lies mostly in Qincao.” From this, we know that the Su Dongpo’s Zen Dialogue painting depicts Su Dongpo and Qincao. Similar compositions appear in the Qing painter Sha Fu’s (1831–1906) Qincao’s Zen Dialogue and Xu Cao’s (1910–1970) hanging scroll of the same title, both showing the two conversing under a tree. Yet, in Sha and Xu’s versions, Qincao stands humbly before Su Dongpo, her posture expressing respect and the sincerity of a student seeking enlightenment.

So what were Su Dongpo and Qincao discussing?
The earliest record appears in Wu Zeng’s Random Jottings from the Studio of Reform (Nenggaizhai Manlu) of the Southern Song. It recounts that Qincao, skilled in lyrics and song, once altered the rhyme of Qin Guan’s Man Ting Fang to great acclaim from Su Dongpo. One day by West Lake, Dongpo jokingly said, “I shall be the abbot; you come to question and seek Zen.”

Qincao asked, “What is the scene within the lake?”
Dongpo replied, “The autumn waters share one hue with the endless sky; the setting sun and lone wild goose fly together.” — borrowing the famous line from Wang Bo’s Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng, describing a dazzling evening scene.

Qincao then asked, “What is the person within the scene?”
Dongpo replied, “Her skirt trails six folds of Xiang River water; her hair bun gathers a wisp of Wushan cloud.” — from Li Qinyu’s Tang poem Drinking Playfully with Courtesans alongside Minister Zheng, portraying the graceful beauty of a woman whose skirt flows like the Xiang River and hair rises like the clouds of Wushan.

Qincao asked again, “What is the essence within the person?”
Dongpo replied, “Pity Scholar Yang; he nearly stifled Officer Bao.” The “Officer Bao” here refers to Bao Zhao of the Southern Dynasties, admired by Du Fu in his poem Spring Thoughts of Li Bai for his elegant poetic style. But who was “Scholar Yang”? Some mistakenly identify him as Yang Riyian, who was impeached by Ouyang Xiu for corruption and later sought revenge. Given Su Dongpo’s deep respect for Ouyang Xiu, he certainly wouldn’t have praised Yang Riyian. Nor could that Yang’s reputation compare to Bao Zhao’s. I believe “Scholar Yang” refers instead to Yang Jiong, one of the Four Talents of the Early Tang and a Scholar of the Chongwen Institute. The phrase “Pity Scholar Yang; he nearly stifled Officer Bao” thus means that such extraordinary talent could outshine both Yang Jiong and Bao Zhao.

Su Dongpo’s answers moved from beautiful scenery, to beautiful people, to beautiful talent.
Finally, Qincao asked, “Then, in the end, what becomes of it all?”
Dongpo delivered a sobering reply, quoting Bai Juyi’s Song of the Pipa:

“Before your door the horses and carriages are few;
In your old age, you wed a merchant husband.”

When all the splendor fades, you will be like the pipa girl — aging, married to a merchant, living out the rest of your days.

So—is that the end of life’s story?
Upon hearing this, Qincao suddenly attained enlightenment, shaved her head, and became a nun. Since all is ultimately emptiness, she chose the Buddhist path to fulfill her awakening.

This story became popular in the Ming dynasty, appearing in miscellanies and fictional works such as Jiang Yikui’s Records Outside Yaoshan Hall, Tian Rucheng’s Supplementary Notes on West Lake Travels, and Mei Dingzuo’s Lotus of Green Mud. However, in later Ming and Qing retellings, the roles of questioner and responder were reversed — Su Dongpo asking, Qincao answering — which actually deviates from the traditional Zen dialogue format.

The title of a painting determines its meaning.
Su Dongpo Playing Qin highlights Su Dongpo’s musical refinement;
Su Dongpo and Qincao narrates a story of spiritual awakening.
What began as playful role-play between teacher and student — discussing the lake’s scenery, the person within it, and the essence within the person — evolved step by step into Qincao’s realization of emptiness, her renunciation of worldly life.

What fascinates me most is this:
When Qincao turned her “play” into genuine enlightenment, how did Su Dongpo respond?
With surprise — or with serenity?

Published in Lianhe Zaobao (Singapore), “Shang Shan Ruo Shui” column, October 25, 2025