Dong Qichang was many things: a painter, a calligrapher, a garden designer.
But in every medium, he was also a translator.
Not of words, but of ideas into form.
Of philosophy into structure.
Of Chan Buddhism into space.
His garden, Zuibaichi, is a text in its own right.
A translation of what he believed, what he practiced, what he saw.
And like all good translations, it is not just a copy – it is a recasting.
🏯 Zuibaichi as Translation
Zuibaichi – literally “The Garden of the Drunken Poet, Bai” – is named for the Tang dynasty poet Bai Juyi, whose clear, accessible style resonated with Dong Qichang’s Chan-inflected worldview, even as it contrasted with the abstraction in his painting.
Dong was a man who saw the world in layers.
In the white space around a single brushstroke, he saw emptiness as fullness – a Chan concept woven through the teachings of the Zen masters.
In the jagged rocks of Zuibaichi, he saw the paradox of beauty in imperfection, the natural order as a teacher of form.
But Zuibaichi is not a simple transcription of Chan thought.
It is an interpretation – Dong Qichang’s personal expression of a worldview translated into space, into stone, into structure.
Each curve in the path, each carefully placed pavilion, each vista framed by jagged rocks is a line in the garden’s text, a line that invites the viewer to enter, to pause, to listen. It is a text that asks you to wander, to linger, to let the meaning unfold rather than arrive at a clear conclusion.
🖌️ From Ink to Stone: Translation as Practice
Dong Qichang was also a master calligrapher, and his brushwork follows the same principles as his garden design:
The economy of line, where a single brushstroke contains worlds.
The balance of emptiness and fullness, echoing Chan philosophy.
The asymmetry and intentional irregularity, reflecting the natural, unforced rhythms of nature.
But even as he moved from ink to stone, the practice was the same: translate essence into form.
His garden is a painting you can walk through.
His calligraphy is a garden you can carry in your mind.
And that fluidity – the ability to translate philosophy into multiple mediums – is what makes Dong Qichang’s work so enduring. It’s also what makes him a master of aesthetic translation.
🗣️ Translation Across Mediums, Translation Across Cultures
This is what great translation is, in essence: not the movement of words from one language to another, but the movement of essence from one medium, one context, one culture to another.
A literary translator does not just copy text from Chinese to English.
A literary translator is Dong Qichang with a pen – finding the stones and pavilions, the empty space and the brushstroke, that will allow the original to breathe anew in its new form.
And just as Dong’s garden is not a literal transcription of Chan philosophy, a translation should not be a literal rendering of a text.
It must be a recasting – a space where the essence can live and move, where the reader can wander and make meaning for themselves.
🌸 The Takeaway
The art of translation is the art of transmuting experience.
It’s what Dong Qichang did when he moved from ink to stone.
It’s what we do when we move from one language to another, one culture to another.
But it’s not just about carrying words across a border. It’s about building a space where the spirit of the original can live, breathe, and speak in its new form.
That’s what Dong Qichang did when he designed Zuibaichi.
That’s what we do when we translate a poem, a novel, a life.
And that’s what Zuibaichi continues to do, centuries later:
Speak a language that transcends words, a language of space and silence, structure and flow.
©2025 Shelly Bryant
Join us for Zuibaichi: A Garden that Speaks on the Ink & Insight channel
