穆家善在我眼里，是位不甘固守、不甘中庸，外圆内方的厉害角色。生在江苏，学在江苏，成在江苏，让我多了份亲切，我母亲是江苏武进奔牛人，自然我也算半个江苏人。

　　前几年，我们都搬到了美国马里兰州，属于大华府地区，意思是首都华盛顿的一部分。差不多像是北京西山一带的地理位置吧。于是，低头不见抬头见，自然就熟悉了起来。况且，俩人既是大同乡，也是大同行。那时，我工作关系，一时走不开。他正好要去北京，可去探望我老爸张仃，从我这儿拿了路条。

　　要不怎么说他厉害呢，他做事有理想、有计划、有目的、有行动。事无巨细，他样样不忘。那时，家父住在门头沟的山上。要去看他很不容易，要和他深谈，更难。而家善胆大、心细、机智，三下五除二，就让老人家喜笑颜开，对他另眼相看，兴致颇高。送他大幅书法云云，倒是平常，难得和他和家父酣畅一谈。

　　家善回来告诉我，北京一行他获益良多。我当时并没在意，觉得一位青年画家看看老前辈，多少都有些收获，至于“获益良多”，是人们常说的客气话。

　　今年再见到家善的新作，让我大吃一惊。老天爷，这不是家父的焦墨加上傅抱石先生的皴法，巧妙地融合在他的名为“千毫皴”笔法中。惊世骇俗大变法，独辟新路。

　　一个有成的画家，一般都不能轻易“变法”。一旦变法不成，可能就“画虎不成反类猫”了，要么山穷水尽，要么原地打转不前，这叫“鬼打墙”。因此，多数人找到一种适合自己的风格之后，就在自家后院儿，悉心耕耘，进退得当，旱涝保收，绝不轻易玩什么新花活。我认识的一些当今名家，现今的笔法和当年求学的时候，毫无二致。这非常自然，熟能生巧，稳扎稳打，无可厚非。

　　家善这批新作，已经引起画界的震荡。到底今后有没有海啸，还不清楚。

　　看来容易，就是一张窗户纸，看谁能一下捅破。行里人明白，这种顿悟并非人人可得。

　　焦墨是险峰独径，古来走成者不过三五人。程邃、黄宾虹、张仃，路漫漫坎坷逶迤，险峰下白骨累累。虽有许多有志青年，也随后探险攀登。然而，登山工具只有三样：一张纸、一块墨、一管笔。别说走不出什么新花样，就是摹写前人的老花样，练一辈子不见得能达到形似四五、神似二三。

　　家善虽上此山，但不走前人故路。奇特新法，有西画的厚重多层次表现，也有中国传统的深邃笔意。张仃的大块黑墨，当年石破惊天。在家善的画幅中，用西方的灵动手法，将这几块黛石幻化为立体风景。千古山川，居然变得鲜活。傅抱石的小笔皴法，让山水没入蒙胧，当年令人耳目一新，在家善手里，变成了巨椽大笔千毫乍起，铺天盖地。

　　当然，任何突破开始都不会尽善尽美，但已经翱翔在天，多高多远要看他的造化。

　　谁都没想到，连张仃和傅抱石都没想到，一个“剑宗”，一个“气宗”，各守各道，各居各顶。居然今天，被黄毛小子穆家善愣头愣脑，乱冲猛打，硬把二宗凝成一体，创出一片新天地。二位在天之灵，不知作何感想?

　　我觉得他们都有足够的宽容，在这条国画艺术的坎坷道路上，有个不要命的后来者也来探路。他们必作出会心微笑，正如在高山之巅，顶尖高手对弈，满盘落子之后，进入焦灼状态，人人都在自问：从何处来，向何处去?绞尽脑汁，不见出路。突然，一个莽撞后生，“啪”的一声，投子入死地。啊呀，竟是空前“绝步”!谁不豁然开朗，拍手击掌。

　　来者何人?家善也。

　　2011年4月10日写于华盛顿

　　(作者为美国亚太艺术研究院院士 中国国徽设计者张仃之子)

　　Mu Jiashan Blazing a New Trail

　　Zhang Langlang

　　Member of Asian Pacific Art Institute of America and son of master painter Zhang Ding

　　Washington, D.C., April 10th, 2011

　　In my eyes, Mu Jiashan is an extraordinary figure, one not content with past achievements or second fiddle, strictly adhering to principles under an amiable demeanor. Born, educated and established in Jiangsu Province, China, he gives me an added sense of affinity—I can count myself as half a Jiangsu native as my mother is from Benniu, Wujin, Jiangsu.

　　Several years ago, both of us moved to Maryland, United States which belongs to the Greater Washington D.C. Area. In other words, it is part of Washington D.C., the U.S. capital. Geographically, we were located in a place akin to West Hill in Beijing. As we could literally rub shoulders with each other, we naturally spoke on familiar terms soon. What’s more, we share the same hometown and profession, in a broad sense. Back then, I couldn’t very well leave for China due to my work schedule. He happened to be visiting Beijing and was able to call on my father Zhang Ding. So he got a ‘permission slip’ from me.

　　Why did I say Mu is an extraordinary figure? In everything he does, he has an idea, a plan, a purpose accompanied by action. He doesn’t forget anything, big or small. Dad lived in the mountains at Mentougou then. It was difficult to visit him, even more difficult to talk with him in depth. But with Jiashan’s courage, carefulness and wisdom, he was able to turn the old man into smiles, high spirit and special preference for him in no time. Dad even gave him a big scroll of calligraphy. That was nothing out of the extraordinary, but what was rare was that Dad had an extensive conversation with him to their heart’s content.

　　Upon his return, Jiashan told me that he had benefited a great deal from his Beijing trip. I didn’t pay much attention to it, thinking as I did that a young painter would manage to learn something, more or less, from visiting a veteran. As for “benefiting a great deal”, that’s a nicety on everyone’s lips.

　　When I saw Jiashan’s new creations this year, I was struck by surprise. Oh, my God! How he had deftly integrated Dad’s dry ink with Mr. Fu Baoshi’s brushwork into what he named the “thousand-hair brush technique”! With a breath-taking revolution, he has opened out a new path!

　　An accomplished painter generally refrains from changing his/her style, for should he/she fail in developing a new style, “a tiger would turn out to be something more like a cat.” He/she either would have come to the end of his/her tethers, not would be turning circles on the same spot, as is commonly described as seeing a ghost and thus unable to move one’s frigid legs out of a circle. That’s why most people will, after finding a style suited to them, stay in their backyard garden within the bounds of security and propriety, assured of a decent harvest come what may. They will not toy with any new trick. Some of the famous contemporary masters that I am acquainted with have the same brush skills today as in their apprenticeship days. This is only naturally as constant practice into perfection and solid groundwork for assured success are simply beyond reproach.

　　These new works of Jiashan’s have caused repercussions in the fine art community; whether a tsunami will ensue remain unclear. It all looks pretty easy: it’s simply a sheet of window pane paper; all it takes is for someone to poke a hole in it. Those in the trade know only too well that this sudden awakening is not within everyone’s reach, though.

　　Dry ink painting is a steep peak or a treacherous path. No more than three or five men have succeeded in ascending it since ancient time, people like Cheng Sui, Wang Binhong and Zhang Ding, after traversing a long, challenging, winding course, with many skeletons strewn at the foot of the mountain. Although a host of determined youths also followed in the mountaineering exploration, there are only three tools available after all: a sheet of paper, an inkstick, and a brush. Let alone creating something new. Even copying our ancestors’ old styles may take a lifetime of practice without managing 40-50% similarity in shape and, for that matter, 20-30% in spirit.

　　Though Jiashan is scaling the same mountain, he is not tracing his predecessors’ footsteps. His novel approach embraces both the think and heavy multi-layered portrayal that is typical of western painting and the profound meaning that is found in traditional Chinese painting. Zhang Ding shook heaven and earth with his big crags in pitch-black ink. In Jiashan’s paintings, the black rocks have been morphed into three-dimensional scenery with fine flexible western techniques; age-old mountains should have been turned into live objects. Fu Baoshi’s small brush submerged shanshui (landscape) in a veil of haziness—a refreshing trick at the time. In Jiashan’s hand, the brush became a huge one with a thousand upstanding hairs that sweep across in an almighty manner.

　　Admittedly, no breakthrough will start with perfection, but now that Mu is soaring in the sky, how high and how far he will fly depend on his lucky star.

　　No one, not even Zhang Ding as creator of the Jian (sword) School or Fu Baoshi as founder of the Qi (air) School ever expected that the two schools they commanded and defended respectively should have been amalgamated into a new creation by a youngster through strong-headed wild hits in all directions. One wonders how they would think of this while in heaven.

　　To my mind, both of them have enough tolerance and will surely smile heartily now that an audacious new-comer is also exploring this tortuous path towards the art of Chinese painting—in a manner that top go (a Chinese strategy board game—note by the translator) masters are contending atop a summit. When both sides were locked in a heated battle with practically all the pieces down. All the people were asking themselves: Whither from? Whither to? But their soul searching led nowhere. All of a sudden, an impetuous young man threw in a chess piece with a bang, and with that ended the game. Wow, what an unprecedented master move! Who but everyone would not applaud this sudden enlightening masterstroke?

　　Who on earth is this new-comer? Jiashan, of course!