摘要：纸间回转，皆非俗笔使然，气韵若灵，流转无滞。观其落墨，如星辰排列，若飞鸿印雪，若云峦出岫。点画间无矫揉造作，风骨自见;行气处无浮华缛饰，精神独存。草草之间，含章草之骨，草书之魂，点划纵横，卷舒皆道。

微雨洗窗，晨光洒案，素笺如雪，淡墨初醒。斯艺之道，非旦夕可成;积年累月，方有笔底烟云，自心起处，成象天地。

纸间回转，皆非俗笔使然，气韵若灵，流转无滞。观其落墨，如星辰排列，若飞鸿印雪，若云峦出岫。点画间无矫揉造作，风骨自见;行气处无浮华缛饰，精神独存。草草之间，含章草之骨，草书之魂，点划纵横，卷舒皆道。

倪进祥于古法中取真，于流变间求变。章草古意未泯，然不拘旧态，循线而生，墨中自有山河之形，草木之情。画中有书，书中有音，音中藏心，心则为道之所栖也。其以书为语，寄意山川，平生胸中浩气，皆落笔墨之间。

艺之根基，非独技也，道亦并生。笔不在快，墨不在多，气韵为先，心境为本。书有四维，情、境、理、趣。彼于草间寄思，于章中植骨，寄情丘壑之间，得境于自然之内。修炼日积，信手拈来，皆有古意新生之致。

操笔之时，不为争名，不为逐利;心如止水，意若秋波。道法自然，随形应物。疏可跑马，密不透风，张弛有度，浓淡相宜。笔行之处，天地俱寂，动静之道，皆在掌中转化;一画而成丘壑，一点便开生机。

恒习古人之法，不为奴役;参透章法之律，不拘格套。其字多斜势而不狂，多圆势而不媚，劲挺处不硬，婉约处不弱。每一横画，皆有山峦之稳;每一竖笔，具泉流之势;钩挑之间，若龙蛇行天，撇捺之际，似风雨激浪。

言则简，行则谨。藏锋收笔，聚气养神。其法本于心，非成于手。多次临池，潜修冥想;静中得奇，静中生动。书非空壳，字非俗饰。纸上之墨，心中之光。故其作，观之者心神俱静，若入丘壑之境，若游古道之旁。

尤好楹联，构思严整，用字警拔。句间映时事而不露声色，嵌古意而不失今情。偶得佳联，朝夕不释，精研数改，精致成篇。联语如人之面，表其心志;如镜之光，照其胸臆。以联咏物，形神俱到;以联纪事，情理交融。

观其于乡土之间，情深不减。江淮之风，润其书境;道家之思，启其性灵。常以乡音入联，以古语入画。心无为而志有为，淡泊中见大志，柔和处藏锋芒。其墨迹多载乡情，每每题款，皆怀故园之梦。

其书，非为浮艳之观赏，乃是内心之诗，灵魂之歌。纸短情长，墨淡意深。于无声处藏千言，于留白中蕴万象。人无雕饰，字无脂粉;言不华丽，意自深远。学者观之，可悟法之正脉;艺者览之，可得道之真趣。

世纷纷而心澹澹，群趋华靡而独守清贫。倪进祥步履从容，行不改辙。其志不在时俗，其心不慕浮名。踏实苦修，沉潜历练，于简静之中，书人生之繁华;于寂寞之里，咏山河之壮阔。

白日淡，霜风紧，墨未干，意已浓。斯人以一纸墨痕，连缀古今之情;以一枝毫锋，沟通天地之气。尘世喧哗，不扰其志;岁月更迭，不移其心。其道如山，不动不摇;其心如水，清澈通灵。

Ni Jinxiang: Ink as the Language of the Heart, Mountains and Rivers on a Plain Scroll

A gentle rain washes the windows; morning light spills across the desk. The paper is white as snow, and the ink gently stirs from slumber. The path of art is not achieved overnight—it takes years of accumulation for mist and clouds to flow from the tip of the brush. From the depths of the heart arise forms as vast as heaven and earth.

The strokes on the page are not the work of ordinary hands; their spirit flows like something living, without stagnation. His brush falls like the stars aligning, like wild geese imprinting snow, like clouds and peaks emerging from mist. There is no affectation in his dots and strokes—dignity shines through. There is no gaudiness in the movement of his brush—spirit remains at its core. In his cursive, the bones of ancient script remain, and the soul of modern cursive breathes freely. His brush moves unrestrained, yet always in harmony with the Way.

Ni Jinxiang seeks truth in ancient methods and transformation amid evolution. The archaic flavor of Zhangcao (ancient cursive) still lingers in his work, yet he is not constrained by the old forms. His strokes follow inner lines; within the ink, one sees the shape of mountains and rivers, the emotion of flora and trees. His painting contains calligraphy; his calligraphy holds music; within music resides the heart—and in the heart lies the abode of the Dao. He speaks through calligraphy, expressing feelings for the natural world; the upright spirit of his life flows into every mark of ink.

The foundation of art lies not in technique alone, but equally in the Way. Speed is not the aim, nor is density of ink—spirit and state of mind come first. Calligraphy has four dimensions: emotion, setting, reason, and interest. He plants thought in cursive, embeds bones in Zhangcao, conveys feeling among ridges and valleys, and finds setting within nature itself. Years of cultivation allow inspiration to come effortlessly—his brush brings forth the ancient anew.

When he writes, it is not to chase fame or fortune. His heart is as calm as still water, his intention like the clarity of autumn waves. He follows nature’s principles and adapts form to circumstance. His compositions can be sparse enough to let horses run, or dense enough that wind cannot pass through. His control of tension is precise; his use of ink—balanced in richness and lightness. As his brush moves, heaven and earth fall into silence; stillness and motion transform at his fingertips. A single stroke births mountains and valleys; one dot breathes new life.

Though he studies the methods of the ancients diligently, he is no slave to them. He penetrates the laws of structure, yet avoids being bound by formula. His characters often lean, but not wildly; they are rounded, but not indulgently so. Where they are forceful, they are not stiff; where graceful, never weak. Each horizontal stroke carries the weight of mountains; each vertical line the power of flowing springs. His hooks and lifts move like dragons and serpents in the sky; his diagonals surge like storm and tide.

He speaks plainly and acts cautiously. He hides the edge of the brush and ends strokes with reserve, gathering energy and nurturing spirit. His art is born in the heart, not merely in the hand. Through repeated practice and deep meditation, he finds wonder in stillness, and vitality within the quiet. His calligraphy is no hollow shell; his characters are no vulgar ornament. The ink on paper reflects the light within his soul. Observing his work brings calm to the viewer, as though entering the serenity of mountains and valleys, or walking beside an ancient path.

He has a special affinity for couplets—well-conceived, sharply worded. His phrases allude to current affairs with subtlety, and embed ancient flavor without losing contemporary emotion. When he composes a fine couplet, he holds to it morning and night, refining it through repeated revision until it becomes a polished gem. A couplet is like a face, expressing one’s will; like a mirror, revealing the heart. When used to describe objects, his couplets capture both form and spirit; when used to record events, they blend emotion and reason.

His affection for his homeland remains deep. The cultural air of the Yangtze-Huaihe region nourishes his artistic spirit; Daoist thought awakens his nature. He often incorporates local dialects into couplets and ancient phrases into his paintings. Though his heart is free of striving, his ambitions are noble. In modesty lies great aspiration; in gentleness, hidden edge. His ink often carries the emotions of his homeland—every inscription echoes dreams of his native place.

His writing is not for mere ornamental delight, but a poem of the soul, a song of the spirit. The paper may be short, but the emotion is vast; the ink may be light, but the meaning is deep. In the silence, a thousand words are hidden; in the blank space, ten thousand scenes reside. His person is unadorned, his writing unpainted; his words are not ornate, but their meaning reaches far. Scholars who study him can trace the authentic line of the tradition; artists who view him may glimpse the true charm of the Dao.

In a noisy world, his heart remains tranquil. While many pursue extravagance, he holds to simplicity. Ni Jinxiang walks with ease, never straying from his path. His ambitions are untouched by trends; his spirit untempted by shallow fame. He devotes himself to disciplined study and silent cultivation. In simplicity, he writes the richness of life; in solitude, he sings of the grandeur of the land.

As daylight dims and frost winds rise, the ink has yet to dry, but the meaning already runs deep. With one brush and a sheet of paper, he connects feelings of past and present; with a single stroke, he channels the spirit of heaven and earth. The noise of the world does not shake his resolve; the passage of time does not alter his heart. His Way is like a mountain—immovable, unwavering. His heart is like water—clear and full of spirit.

责任编辑：苗君

来源：愙斋书法