Artist Painting a Dragon

A dragon, surrounded by swirling grey and black clouds, seems to emerge from a rock face. Below, an artist holds a brush as if interrupted mid-painting—in fact, the dragon is his creation, come magically to life. An assistant calmly holds an inkstone for him. Both stand nonchalantly, as if such things are a regular occurrence in this mystical blue and green realm.

In Chinese legend, tales abound of artists so skillful in representation that their dragons came to life. The earliest was of the illustrious painter Gù Kǎizhī 顾恺之 (ca. 344–406), who refused to paint in the pupils of his dragons’ eyes fearing that they would wreak havoc. Zhāng Sēngyóu 张僧繇 (active ca. 490–540) and Wú Dàozǐ 吴道子 (ca. 685–758 CE) were not so cautious, and after dotting the pupils, their dragons flew away. This is the source of the Chinese idiom “paint the dragon and dot the eyes” (畫龍點睛 huà lóng diǎn jīng), which means to add the final touches to something that was already good, resulting in something perfect.