Ink gardens
Xiao Mao here.
I drew some pictures while at the gardens in Suzhou. This is a small, artificial mountain:
A pavilion as seen from the tea house:
A pine bonsai in the Humble Administrator's Garden:
As I sat sketching the pine bonsai, a man paused to look over my shoulder.
"Can I take a picture?" he asked, in English. Of course he could. Later, more people stopped to look. A group of college-age people gathered around, talking. Chinese like to watch people draw, as I knew from the crowds that gathered around caricature artists. It was a whole new experience to have attracted a crowd myself, and hearing their "oohs" and "aahs," I felt giddy. Suddenly I heard someone exclaim, "Wai guo ren! (foreigner!)" and my calm, serene artist illusion broke into pieces as I cracked up laughing. Seeing my from behind, they had assumed I was Chinese.
I drew some pictures while at the gardens in Suzhou. This is a small, artificial mountain:
A pavilion as seen from the tea house:
A pine bonsai in the Humble Administrator's Garden:
As I sat sketching the pine bonsai, a man paused to look over my shoulder.
"Can I take a picture?" he asked, in English. Of course he could. Later, more people stopped to look. A group of college-age people gathered around, talking. Chinese like to watch people draw, as I knew from the crowds that gathered around caricature artists. It was a whole new experience to have attracted a crowd myself, and hearing their "oohs" and "aahs," I felt giddy. Suddenly I heard someone exclaim, "Wai guo ren! (foreigner!)" and my calm, serene artist illusion broke into pieces as I cracked up laughing. Seeing my from behind, they had assumed I was Chinese.