Chinese Martial Arts (CMA) are marked and recognized by the beautiful movement routines referred to in English simply as forms (套路, pinyin: tàolù). This is especially apparent in contemporary wushu and Taijiquan. Most styles of CMA have at least one major set that includes free hand, weapons, and two-person sparring forms. But these forms do not exist in a vacuum. They have real purpose that may or may not have been lost to any branch or lineage. They serve both as reminders of martial techniques and routines of fitness.
So that's just the basic context of this post. The reason why I'm writing on this is that in the past few years, having learned from a few teachers, I've come to notice what it takes for a form to be useful. As I see it, good form requires three intersecting factors: structure, context, and personality.
Structure is the engine of the form. It is the most fundamental component and without it, a form lacks power and stability. This is even true of the Simplified 24-Form Yang-style Taijiquan. Sifu Gregory Fong was clear to distinguish "dead" form from living form. I have already written about the "internal engines" that describe this in depth for the "internal" styles of CMA. But even the external styles depend on powerful structure. The traditional Shaolin martial artists are often depicted as standing in various stances for hours. And the physical training is intense and gives power to every strike, kick, or jump in wushu and kungfu routines. Without adherence to the structure, a form will have many holes of weakness or deadness wherein it will ultimately fall apart.
Where structure is often missing in popular CMA forms, especially in the West, context is similarly forgotten. Every single movement in every form has meaning. The twisting of arms, the spreading of hands, the lifting of knees are not just for looks. Each movement, no matter how abstract, is a reminder of a myriad of martial techniques that include four components of fighting: hand strikes, kicks, joint-locks, and take-downs. A teacher with real Sanshou experience will be able to help a student understand all the possibilities. But even if a practitioner is using CMA for health and fitness and is not interested in the fighting aspects, those movements can be explored for strength-training or yogic qualities. This is especially true of the internal styles, which have incorporated so much Daoist yoga (Dao Yin). So the practitioner must ask, "why this movement?" Unfortunately, I have seen too many practitioners learn a form that has complicated movements, like Swimming Body Baguazhang or Chen-style Taijiquan, only to confuse and muddle the movements. This is due to their lack of understanding of the martial context of the movements. If one is not interested in Sanshou or training the martial components, one should consider a simpler form such as the Old Eight Palms of Baguazhang or the simplified Yang style Taijiquan.
Personality is the last piece. All of my teachers have emphasized the need to make a form your own. Master Wen-Ching Wu told me the story of the student who learned a form from his teacher. After completing the form, the teacher instructed the student to go and practice it for five year and not to come back until then. The student practiced the form his teacher taught and after five years returned to his teacher. He demonstrated the form to his teacher, who said, "This form looks a little different from what I taught you. Let me show you a couple things." After their time together, the teacher once again instructed his student to not return until he had practiced for five years. Following suit, the student returns after another five years to his teacher. This time the teacher remarks that his form looks nothing like what he had taught him. "Therefore," the teacher said, "you have achieved mastery!"
Sifu Fong also encouraged this while teaching us the traditional Chen Taijiquan form. Fong used to talk about dance and rhythm, saying that we needed to learn to put our own rhythm into the form. In fact, he learned it from Chen Xiaowang. But if you look at any of Fong's videos, his style is his own. What he does looks nothing like the form that Chen Xiaowang teaches these days. Fong had learned the form and infused it with his own personality and knowledge. Indeed, if all the major styles of Taijiquan originate from the Chen family style, why are they so different if it were not for their originator's infusion of personality?
As stated on another post, I always look for the roots when learning. In fact, I feel like I cannot learn UNLESS I learn the root concepts. It's as if everything I learn comes with the question, "why." Once I have learned the formula and the concepts, then I can learn to improvise with meaning, either at a subtle level or at a really expressive level. That said, after six years of studying Baguazhang, I feel as if I am only just beginning to learn.
I highly recommend any of the writings of Wang Xiangzhai. However, I also recommend not taking his opinions as dogma, as so many have unfortunately done. Instead, consider that Wang provides the tools to pick apart dogmatic systems and get to the core material. Always ask "why." It's simply disappointing to see a practitioner express a martial arts style learned by rote outside of structure, context, and personality.
So that's just the basic context of this post. The reason why I'm writing on this is that in the past few years, having learned from a few teachers, I've come to notice what it takes for a form to be useful. As I see it, good form requires three intersecting factors: structure, context, and personality.
Structure is the engine of the form. It is the most fundamental component and without it, a form lacks power and stability. This is even true of the Simplified 24-Form Yang-style Taijiquan. Sifu Gregory Fong was clear to distinguish "dead" form from living form. I have already written about the "internal engines" that describe this in depth for the "internal" styles of CMA. But even the external styles depend on powerful structure. The traditional Shaolin martial artists are often depicted as standing in various stances for hours. And the physical training is intense and gives power to every strike, kick, or jump in wushu and kungfu routines. Without adherence to the structure, a form will have many holes of weakness or deadness wherein it will ultimately fall apart.
Where structure is often missing in popular CMA forms, especially in the West, context is similarly forgotten. Every single movement in every form has meaning. The twisting of arms, the spreading of hands, the lifting of knees are not just for looks. Each movement, no matter how abstract, is a reminder of a myriad of martial techniques that include four components of fighting: hand strikes, kicks, joint-locks, and take-downs. A teacher with real Sanshou experience will be able to help a student understand all the possibilities. But even if a practitioner is using CMA for health and fitness and is not interested in the fighting aspects, those movements can be explored for strength-training or yogic qualities. This is especially true of the internal styles, which have incorporated so much Daoist yoga (Dao Yin). So the practitioner must ask, "why this movement?" Unfortunately, I have seen too many practitioners learn a form that has complicated movements, like Swimming Body Baguazhang or Chen-style Taijiquan, only to confuse and muddle the movements. This is due to their lack of understanding of the martial context of the movements. If one is not interested in Sanshou or training the martial components, one should consider a simpler form such as the Old Eight Palms of Baguazhang or the simplified Yang style Taijiquan.
Personality is the last piece. All of my teachers have emphasized the need to make a form your own. Master Wen-Ching Wu told me the story of the student who learned a form from his teacher. After completing the form, the teacher instructed the student to go and practice it for five year and not to come back until then. The student practiced the form his teacher taught and after five years returned to his teacher. He demonstrated the form to his teacher, who said, "This form looks a little different from what I taught you. Let me show you a couple things." After their time together, the teacher once again instructed his student to not return until he had practiced for five years. Following suit, the student returns after another five years to his teacher. This time the teacher remarks that his form looks nothing like what he had taught him. "Therefore," the teacher said, "you have achieved mastery!"
Sifu Fong also encouraged this while teaching us the traditional Chen Taijiquan form. Fong used to talk about dance and rhythm, saying that we needed to learn to put our own rhythm into the form. In fact, he learned it from Chen Xiaowang. But if you look at any of Fong's videos, his style is his own. What he does looks nothing like the form that Chen Xiaowang teaches these days. Fong had learned the form and infused it with his own personality and knowledge. Indeed, if all the major styles of Taijiquan originate from the Chen family style, why are they so different if it were not for their originator's infusion of personality?
As stated on another post, I always look for the roots when learning. In fact, I feel like I cannot learn UNLESS I learn the root concepts. It's as if everything I learn comes with the question, "why." Once I have learned the formula and the concepts, then I can learn to improvise with meaning, either at a subtle level or at a really expressive level. That said, after six years of studying Baguazhang, I feel as if I am only just beginning to learn.
I highly recommend any of the writings of Wang Xiangzhai. However, I also recommend not taking his opinions as dogma, as so many have unfortunately done. Instead, consider that Wang provides the tools to pick apart dogmatic systems and get to the core material. Always ask "why." It's simply disappointing to see a practitioner express a martial arts style learned by rote outside of structure, context, and personality.
Great post. I also found value in the mystery of forms. One of my experiences in Parker Lineage Kenpo is that forms built upon previous forms, and our instructor would often ask us to explore why a particular form might include what seemed like an orphaned technique. Often, those orphan techniques were prequels to something we would learn in a subsequent form, or represent an advanced application of a technique to be subsequently explored.
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