每次看到王盛华三个手指尖拈着细细的毛笔,一米八几的个头躬在低低的案子上潜心作画时,视觉和心理上便会生出一种莫名其妙的委屈感。闭上眼推算着那朝那代他祖上定出过一个过关斩将的英雄或揭竿而起的好汉。看着那灵性的笔锋在宣纸上勾、勒、点、染,那些与疆场无干的《秋塘双鹭》、《汀芦游鸭》泼然映出纸上,这时你方觉出他的确是位画家。 Every time I see Wang Shenghua’s three fingers sticking on a thin brush, a few meters and a half bow in low case painstakingly paints, the visual and psychological will give birth to an inexplicable sense of grievances. Close your eyes and figure out that there was a hero or a rising hero who had set off on his ancestral generation. Looked at the spiritual pen on the Xuan paper hook, Le, point, dye, and those who have nothing to do with the battlefield “Qiu Tong Shuangluan”, “Ting Lu You Duck” shines on the paper, when you feel he really Is a painter.