Notes and Reflections on Xiong Lei’s Lecture “The Contemporaneity of Folk Tales”

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Link:2008 “Five-Col­ored Soil” Chi­na Orig­i­nal Pic­ture Book Annu­al Forum (Sep­tem­ber-Novem­ber, Bei­hang Uni­ver­si­ty)
   
Last night (Novem­ber 7th), I was delight­ed to hear Xiong Lei’s lec­ture on “The Con­tem­po­rane­ity of Folk Tales” at Bei­hang Uni­ver­si­ty. Xiong Lei’s speak­ing style is quite free-flow­ing, like a free-flow­ing con­ver­sa­tion, speak­ing freely and freely. First-time lis­ten­ers might strug­gle to grasp the flow, but if you lis­ten patient­ly and grad­u­al­ly become accus­tomed to his style, you’ll ben­e­fit great­ly. Over­all, I felt that while some of his per­spec­tives may appear a bit biased on the sur­face, upon clos­er exam­i­na­tion, they are quite nov­el, though their expres­sion is sharp and their inten­tions are prag­mat­ic.
   
It’s not easy to take notes while lis­ten­ing to Xiong Lei’s lec­ture :) I just casu­al­ly wrote down some things that inter­est­ed me and added some asso­ci­a­tions.
 

   
At the begin­ning of the lec­ture, we all enjoyed Yang Peng’s pro­duc­tion of “Lit­tle Stone Lion”, which was very good and can be seen online:
    http://flash.17173.com/flashfile/2008–10-29/20081029142541244.shtml
 

   
Top­ic 1: How does one start cre­at­ing their first pic­ture book?

   
(This top­ic is main­ly for stu­dents, dis­cussing with them how to start cre­at­ing their first pic­ture book. The orig­i­nal inten­tion of Wu Se Tu is to encour­age and help stu­dents to start cre­at­ing pic­ture books on cam­pus and coop­er­ate with teach­ers’ cours­es.)

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The cre­ation of pic­ture books is relat­ed to every­one’s own life.

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Let’s start with a book by a friend who grew up grow­ing cot­ton. I cre­at­ed a sto­ry based on his life expe­ri­ences, told through paper-cuts. It’s called “The Giant and the Cot­ton Boll.” At the end, the giant climbs onto the clouds. (See­ing this part remind­ed me of the British fairy tale “Jack and the Beanstalk.” Of course, this paper-cut sto­ry is some­thing else entire­ly, more like a psy­cho­log­i­cal jour­ney.)

   
“Fam­i­ly Tree,” by Tan Jun. Life expe­ri­ence: Liv­ing in the moun­tains, father a car­pen­ter. Born in the 1970s, migrat­ing from a small town to a big city—a com­mon expe­ri­ence for this group of peo­ple. The per­spec­tive shifts, from look­ing down from above to look­ing up from below.

   
(Through these three books, Xiong Lei hopes that stu­dents will under­stand how per­son­al expe­ri­ences influ­enced these three painters in cre­at­ing their first pic­ture books.)

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How did you begin cre­at­ing pic­ture books? Some poets born in the 1960s told us, “Your lives lack typ­i­cal events, so how do you cre­ate?” Peo­ple of every gen­er­a­tion share cer­tain com­mon­al­i­ties. These three books are their first. Gen­er­al­ly speak­ing, first books are often gen­uine and writ­ten from the heart. Peo­ple of the same gen­er­a­tion share a com­mon­al­i­ty when recall­ing their child­hoods: a sense of nos­tal­gia.

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Stu­dents can cre­ate works in three ways: one that comes from the heart, one that demon­strates their cre­ative abil­i­ty, and one that reflects their con­cern for soci­ety. The first book is usu­al­ly one that fits your life and speaks to your own sto­ry.

   
For exam­ple, Cai Gao’s “Peach Blos­som Spring” con­tains some insights into soci­ety. Peo­ple in agri­cul­tur­al and indus­tri­al­ized soci­eties have dif­fer­ent emo­tions, and emo­tions vary from era to era. For exam­ple, the sto­ry of “The Big Bear in the For­est” depicts the alien­ation of peo­ple in indus­tri­al­ized soci­ety.

   
☆ Talk about works that reflect social con­cerns. For exam­ple, “My Lit­tle Pony” depicts a con­ver­sa­tion between Xiong Liang and a child dur­ing his vis­it to Tibet. The dog depict­ed is a Tibetan Mas­tiff. It’s a doc­u­men­tary, a cre­ative exper­i­ment.

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Why choose folk tales? There are many folk tales to choose from. It’s a ready-made sto­ry, but how do you express your own point of view? For exam­ple, why did Teacher Cai Gao choose Peach Blos­som Spring? He had his own point of view.

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The choice of mate­r­i­al itself is a point of view. What sto­ries still res­onate with read­ers today? This is pri­mar­i­ly the author’s choice, the author’s point of view.

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We cre­ate folk tales out of a desire to express our­selves. Cry­ing when we want to cry, laugh­ing when we want to laugh, isn’t cre­ation. Singing a lament when we’re sad is cre­ation.

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There was noth­ing real­ly worth say­ing; he was just repeat­ing it.

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When we cre­ate, we need to know who our audi­ence is and what they need.

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What do Chi­nese chil­dren need now? Chi­na today is actu­al­ly two dif­fer­ent coun­tries: As far as pic­ture books are con­cerned, 300 mil­lion of the 1.3 bil­lion peo­ple can afford them, while 1 bil­lion can­not. The needs of urban and rur­al chil­dren are dif­fer­ent.

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Only when you care about every­one will your work be spread.

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Tra­di­tion­al Chi­nese cul­ture is more fem­i­nine, and per­haps we need some­thing more pow­er­ful now.

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Pic­ture books are a com­pre­hen­sive art form. Cre­ators care about chil­dren and par­ents. We have much to learn. In con­tem­po­rary art, is there no longer a def­i­n­i­tion of what is beau­ti­ful and what is not? Art is no longer sim­ply about beau­ty or ugli­ness. Some explain that con­tem­po­rary art helps peo­ple face life health­i­er and more coura­geous­ly. There are many expla­na­tions. Dif­fer­ent times call for dif­fer­ent works of art.

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Why should we help rur­al chil­dren? It’s tru­ly ter­ri­fy­ing for a per­son to lack a moral com­pass. The biggest prob­lem today is edu­ca­tion­al inequal­i­ty. Rur­al chil­dren don’t need sym­pa­thy; they need a good edu­ca­tion, train­ing, and the devel­op­ment of their abil­i­ties. A moral com­pass must be estab­lished.

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Let’s talk about the third type of writ­ing: the dis­play of cre­ativ­i­ty. In this type of book, we can remove the heavy stuff. Take Xiong Liang’s “A Gar­den of Green Veg­eta­bles Becomes Spir­its” as an exam­ple.

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Stu­dents can choose what type of pic­ture book to make based on their own cir­cum­stances: cre­ative, authen­tic, or thought­ful.
   
There are many ways to cre­ate, but not many of them are suit­able for you.
 

   
Sec­ond Top­ic: The Stan­dards of Pic­ture Books in Chi­na and the West Are Dif­fer­ent

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There’s a Japan­ese pic­ture book mas­ter I real­ly like. He said the light­bulb was invent­ed by West­ern­ers and has been bad for the Japan­ese. This is because Japan­ese (and Chi­nese, too) aes­thet­i­cal­ly pleas­ing inte­ri­ors empha­size the play of light and shad­ow, but light­bulbs are too bright to cre­ate that atmos­phere. Under full illu­mi­na­tion, any­one stand­ing in a room looks sil­ly.

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Stan­dards must be set before good cre­ation can be achieved.

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For exam­ple, “Where the Wild Things Are” was writ­ten when West­ern psy­chol­o­gy was flour­ish­ing, but Chi­nese psy­chol­o­gy is not so devel­oped now.

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There is one kind of artist who speaks the truth, but there are no more than 50 of them in the world; but there is anoth­er kind of artist who spreads the truth in var­i­ous ways.

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How do we cre­ate pic­ture books that stand out from for­eign ones? The fun­da­men­tal thing is the sup­port of our own cul­ture. What exact­ly are the char­ac­ter­is­tics of Chi­nese pic­ture books? We our­selves are not quite clear yet and are still explor­ing.

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When a nation is strong and con­fi­dent, for­eign cul­tures flour­ish, as dur­ing the hey­day of the Tang Dynasty. There­fore, we must cul­ti­vate a strong mind­set when cre­at­ing some­thing. The Chi­nese fla­vor is pri­mar­i­ly a mat­ter of con­fi­dence, not nec­es­sar­i­ly one par­tic­u­lar style or anoth­er.

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While still a stu­dent, you should pub­lish your work and earn roy­al­ties. Suc­cess or fail­ure in life is deter­mined by habits. I hope these habits will per­sist. Why study art? To find some­thing that makes life more mean­ing­ful. Cre­ative work can pro­vide greater rewards. Main­tain a life­long cre­ative habit.

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When we’re look­ing for artists to col­lab­o­rate with, we need to assess their life sit­u­a­tion: Are you vul­ner­a­ble to life’s defeat? Only after pub­lish­ing a book and receiv­ing roy­al­ties can we have the con­fi­dence to con­tin­ue. The first book can lay the foun­da­tion.

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The most impor­tant aspect of folk tales is the choice of text. I’m cur­rent­ly work­ing on a book called “Du Zichun.” It’s a Bud­dhist theme, and it fea­tures visions aris­ing from an emp­ty room. This struc­ture is sim­i­lar to the dream­like illu­sions of “Dream of the Red Cham­ber.” This sto­ry was cho­sen for two rea­sons: first, its aes­thet­ic elements—a style of speak­ing, a Zen aesthetic—which is a tech­ni­cal choice; and sec­ond, its con­no­ta­tions, reflect­ing the con­tem­po­rary human con­di­tion: anx­i­ety, nev­er hav­ing enough mon­ey, and habit­u­al pover­ty.

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For exam­ple, some stu­dents chose “Gudong Lai Le” (Gudong Lai Le), per­haps to demon­strate con­trol, abil­i­ty, and cre­ativ­i­ty, and to put their own stamp on the sto­ry. They also expressed their feel­ings through the sto­ry.

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Folk tales can also speak for you. They can be rewrit­ten and giv­en new mean­ing. The best sto­ries are those that add some­thing per­son­al to them.

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Why is the 360-degree hori­zon in “Sukh’s White Horse” so appeal­ing to Japan­ese peo­ple? In a repressed space, this kind of paint­ing can bring new break­throughs. We need to think about what we lack and what we should add.

   
Why was “Peking Opera Cats: Chang­ban­po” cre­at­ed? How can we inte­grate cat pat­terns with facial make­up and intro­duce the art of facial make­up to chil­dren? Even if you don’t under­stand facial make­up, you can still tell who is good, who is evil, and who is brave when you watch it.

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Take the imagery of Peking Opera Cats as an exam­ple: How do we cre­ate a sense of insta­bil­i­ty? The hall­mark of Chi­nese art is a sense of dance. I hope to express some­thing aes­thet­i­cal­ly, as an exper­i­ment. Peking Opera is a form of dance. What are the artis­tic char­ac­ter­is­tics of this book? How do we incor­po­rate a sense of dance? How do we incor­po­rate the rhythms of Peking Opera?

   
“The Invis­i­ble Horse” explores Chi­nese art and wine, the char­ac­ter­is­tics of wine cul­ture, and the lyri­cal art of singing with aban­don. This includes the char­ac­ters’ expres­sions and move­ments, blend­ing the real and the imag­i­nary. This artis­tic medi­um tells new sto­ries and new con­cepts.

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The first two are both Peking Opera Cats. The first is quite West­ern­ized, while the sec­ond uti­lizes Chi­nese art. This sec­tion dis­cuss­es how move­ments con­vey spir­it. There are many dif­fer­ences in expres­sion between the East and the West.

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Some peo­ple say that the moon in for­eign coun­tries is rounder than that in Chi­na. In fact, the moon in Chi­na is the round­est, because no oth­er coun­try has so many writ­ers and artists who have giv­en so much mean­ing to the moon.

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Regard­ing stu­dent cre­ations, I have more indi­rect expe­ri­ence. When I look at stu­dents’ work, I see what they see in the book, not what they see in life.

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The exhi­bi­tion fea­tures Xiong Liang’s ear­ly pic­ture books, whose gouache appli­ca­tion and expres­sion are very West­ern­ized. We looked at numer­ous pic­ture books, films, and mate­ri­als, observ­ing their cre­ations and then cre­at­ing our own works. This kind of cre­ation is not orig­i­nal. We no longer do that in our cur­rent work. We should read a lot of West­ern and Japan­ese pic­ture books, and then try to for­get them all. We can learn, but we should­n’t imi­tate.

   
(Hear­ing this brought back a lot of mem­o­ries. Back in 2003, a good friend sent me some illus­tra­tions by Qiy­ibao, say­ing they were a par­tic­u­lar­ly good orig­i­nal stu­dio at the time. To be hon­est, I was quite dis­ap­point­ed. I knew noth­ing about paint­ing at the time, so I could­n’t dis­cern tech­ni­cal mer­it. But I was still intu­itive­ly dis­ap­point­ed. The style felt too “Bologna”! The details and sto­ry­telling were weak, and there was­n’t much inter­est for chil­dren. That was my hon­est feel­ing at the time. Lat­er, I got to know the broth­ers Xiong Lei and Xiong Liang. Year after year, every time I saw them, I felt their progress was aston­ish­ing. They were tru­ly ded­i­cat­ed to learn­ing and were also very good at self-reflec­tion. In just a few years, I felt that they had begun to devel­op their own unique way of expres­sion, and they were will­ing to move towards being relat­able to read­ers, espe­cial­ly chil­dren. But it was­n’t to accom­mo­date them; they sim­ply found a unique joy in their work, a nat­ur­al fit with their own lives. Con­grat­u­la­tions!)

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A few years ago, I had no con­fi­dence in Chi­nese cul­ture.

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Pic­ture books are used to cul­ti­vate emo­tions and can inject emo­tions into chil­dren. If we do not cul­ti­vate emo­tions for inher­ent cul­ture, we can make chil­dren love what we can see.

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The most impor­tant and dif­fi­cult issue is that our entire edu­ca­tion sys­tem is West­ern-style. But when it comes to cre­ative writ­ing, this does­n’t work. Read­ers have no oblig­a­tion to sup­port orig­i­nal work. When we cre­ate, we must lever­age our strengths and avoid our weak­ness­es. We may have needs that for­eign­ers don’t have, so when export­ing our work abroad, we must devel­op our own unique way of speak­ing. Cul­tur­al dif­fer­ences are cru­cial. We must main­tain our own unique char­ac­ter­is­tics.

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Nowa­days, all stu­dents’ paint­ing styles are West­ern­ized, learned from books. We should learn Chi­nese ele­ments, but we must con­stant­ly update and renew them. Sim­ply imi­tat­ing the West is a dead end. It has no val­ue in inter­na­tion­al com­mu­ni­ca­tion.

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The mate­r­i­al is not impor­tant. Whether it is a brush paint­ing or an oil paint­ing is not impor­tant. The key is cul­tur­al lit­er­a­cy.

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Read more books on con­tem­po­rary aes­thet­ics. Read as many clas­sic West­ern pic­ture books as pos­si­ble, but for­get them after read­ing them. Japan­ese pic­ture books must be stud­ied care­ful­ly.

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When you learn to speak, you unlearn the lan­guage, but in the begin­ning, there is a long tran­si­tion peri­od.

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Orig­i­nal pic­ture books are cur­rent­ly in their ear­ly stages of devel­op­ment. We may not need to say this any­more in the future, but we do need to empha­size Chi­nese cul­tur­al ele­ments.

   
Final­ly, Teacher Zhuang Zhuang gave an excel­lent sum­ma­ry. She told the stu­dents that the forum activ­i­ties had pri­mar­i­ly fea­tured excel­lent pic­ture books from abroad, and that every­one was already plan­ning to exper­i­ment with this or that style, such as “Hen Rose Goes for a Walk” or “Where the Wild Things Are.” Xiong Lei’s reminder dur­ing the lec­ture today was very time­ly, and she hoped that stu­dents would ded­i­cate them­selves to cre­at­ing pic­ture books that are tru­ly Chi­nese. Xiong Lei’s state­ment that “Chi­na’s moon is the round­est” stems from the fact that Chi­nese writ­ers and artists have imbued the moon with the most pro­found mean­ing and are the most mov­ing. Zhuang Zhuang recalled meet­ing the Chi­nese-Amer­i­can painter Yang Zhicheng (cre­ator of “Wolf Granny” and “Sev­en Blind Mice,” and a three-time Calde­cott Medal win­ner) in Hong Kong this sum­mer. Yang Zhicheng point­ed to the moon in one of his new paint­ings and proud­ly said that the moon rep­re­sents the Chi­nese con­cept of “leisure.” Chi­nese leisure dif­fers from that of for­eign­ers. For­eign­ers spend their leisure time sun­bathing or surf­ing at the beach, while Chi­nese peo­ple tru­ly enjoy leisure only when their minds are at ease, and only when they are at ease can they appre­ci­ate the moon.

   
Coin­ci­den­tal­ly, dur­ing the Mid-Autumn Fes­ti­val this year, I hap­pened to chat with Pro­fes­sor Yu Zhiy­ing via email about the round­ness of the Chi­nese moon. In the email, I wrote:

Regard­ing the round­ness of the moon, a friend who went abroad told me,
There is actu­al­ly some truth in the say­ing “The moon is rounder in for­eign coun­tries”.
Because of the seri­ous urban pol­lu­tion in the coun­try, the moon can­not be seen clear­ly.
But I still believe that the moon in Chi­na is rounder.
Because only Chi­nese peo­ple are so keen on appre­ci­at­ing the moon,
Accord­ing to the geo­met­ric prin­ci­ples invent­ed by West­ern­ers, the moon is not com­plete­ly round after all.
The round­ness of the Chi­nese moon lies in the heart.
I always feel that the “full moon” is just a beau­ti­ful mir­ror in the hearts of Chi­nese peo­ple.
There are always imper­fec­tions in life, so the moon in our hearts must always be round.

Over­all impres­sions

   
In gen­er­al, I under­stand that Xiong Lei’s main focus in her lec­ture was on the ques­tion of what to say and how to say it in pic­ture book cre­ation. Regard­ing what to say, she encour­aged stu­dents to express them­selves through the medi­um of what they are most famil­iar with and best excel at, start­ing with folk tales and using mature sto­ries to express them­selves. Regard­ing how to say it, she empha­sized the impor­tance of using unique­ly Chi­nese expres­sions and avoid­ing sim­plis­tic imi­ta­tions of clas­sic West­ern pic­ture books.

   
I think Xiong Lei offers excel­lent insights. How­ev­er, when it comes to West­ern clas­sics and excel­lent pic­ture books, I believe we still need to learn more. The most impor­tant thing is to under­stand what pic­ture books should say. The very birth of pic­ture books is a cru­cial part of the “dis­cov­ery of child­hood.” What they say depends on our under­stand­ing of “chil­dren” and “child­hood.” Tra­di­tion­al East­ern cul­ture places far less empha­sis on this aspect, and we still have much to learn from the West. A good stu­dent is nev­er afraid of being “led astray” by their teacher.

   
Regard­ing the ques­tion of “how to express it,” I believe tra­di­tion­al art forms also have a long process of self-reflec­tion and con­tin­u­ous renew­al. Tra­di­tion­al­ly, there has always been a dis­tinc­tion between literati art and folk art. Art his­to­ry was writ­ten by literati, and the dis­course rest­ed with them. Art seems to be some­thing dis­tant from the com­mon peo­ple. While today’s pic­ture book read­ers can’t be said to be “all com­mon peo­ple,” the vast major­i­ty are cer­tain­ly “com­mon peo­ple,” espe­cial­ly chil­dren (no dis­par­age­ment intend­ed here). How­ev­er, despite its low sta­tus and lim­it­ed men­tion in offi­cial art his­to­ry, folk art has tru­ly nur­tured gen­er­a­tions of “com­mon peo­ple.” I sus­pect that the artis­tic cre­ations in pic­ture books must pri­mar­i­ly be authen­tic folk art. The phrase “Here comes the new folk—” is cer­tain­ly a call for this kind of folk art, art that can res­onate with the “com­mon peo­ple,” espe­cial­ly chil­dren. When cre­at­ing pic­ture books, artists and art stu­dents, please hum­ble your­self.

   
Read­ing Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are and, my favorite, In That Far­away Place, I was struck by how Sendak was able to employ such a clas­sic West­ern artis­tic style and a nar­ra­tive tech­nique rem­i­nis­cent of Grim­m’s fairy tales to tell such authen­ti­cal­ly fan­tas­ti­cal sto­ries, while actu­al­ly exam­in­ing the every­day lives and psy­cho­log­i­cal worlds of chil­dren, thus cap­ti­vat­ing them deeply. Of course, we can­not imi­tate his authen­tic West­ern style, and imi­ta­tion is futile. But his gen­uine con­cern for chil­dren and child­hood, his obser­va­tions about the real, psy­cho­log­i­cal, and imag­i­nary worlds of chil­dren, and his mas­tery of seam­less­ly inte­grat­ing style and con­tent are pre­cise­ly what we need most. These are uni­ver­sal val­ues, regard­less of whether they are dis­guised as East­ern or West­ern.
   
I’ve been think­ing about these ques­tions recent­ly, and I’m glad to have heard Xiong Lei’s lec­ture, which has inspired me to think fur­ther. I’m hap­py to con­tin­ue com­mu­ni­cat­ing with you all, and wel­come your com­ments :)
Argen­tine Primera División (Novem­ber 8, 2008)