第一次看到林海钟的画,就让我想到古远的时代,那些已经逝去的文人雅士,宽衣博带,闲闲步过临湖的小径。微风吹过湖畔,萧疏的枝头萌发淡淡的新绿。空气清新,如清明前后的新茶,淡淡的江南风味,漂浮着一丝难以察觉的苦涩,以及无穷无尽的回甘。画中不经意的笔触,朴拙的构图,飘忽的线条,以及带点稚气的笔墨点染,有一种现代人难以描摹的天真,让我想到 The first time I saw Lin’s paintings, I was reminded of the ancient times, those who have gone literary gentleman, undressing, and leisurely footpath across the lake. Breeze blowing over the lake, Xiao Shu sprouting a touch of fresh green branches. Fresh air, such as around the Ching Ming tea, a touch of southern flavor, floating a trace of hard to detect the bitter, and endless sweet. Inadvertently painted brushwork, simple composition, erratic lines, and a little childish point of ink, there is a modern naive innocent, let me think