苏州桃花坞木刻年画 江苏凤凰美术出版社 在线下载 pdf mobi 2025 epub 电子版

姑苏城内桃花坞风景秀丽，年画作坊曾比比皆是，苏州的木版套印版画故名之为“桃花坞年画”。桃花坞年画被列入首批重量非物质文化遗产名录。她在滥觞期脱胎于书籍插画，是文房雅室的装饰小品；在繁盛期场面恢弘，呈现出宫廷审美、海外贸易的影响；在流行期讲究“四重两轻”，姹紫嫣红中分寸拿捏得不徐不疾；在20世纪下半叶随时代而动，是特殊时期的历史缩影；在今时今日，恪守工匠精神的同时，衍生出更多的文化创意产品重新融入大众生活。桃花坞年画400年来生命的不息，是传统文化“符号江苏”好看的赞歌。张适著的《苏州桃花坞木刻年画》就桃花坞年画的历史沿革、历史价值、现代意义、技艺风格、作品鉴赏、代表人物六个方面展开论述，诠释出古桃花坞年画的独特魅力。

前言苏州桃花坞木刻年画

第一节苏州桃花坞木刻年画综合概述

一桃坞钩沉

1.脱胎于书籍插画的滥觞期

2.仿泰西笔法的全盛期

3.面向市民农民的流行期

二桃坞之变

三桃坞东风

附：苏州桃花坞木刻年画年表

第二节苏州桃花坞木刻年画历史价值

一区域价值

二特殊价值

三民俗价值

四经济价值

五唱卖记录

第三节苏州桃花坞木刻年画现代意义

一传承——工业文明中的工匠精神

1.活态传承，传技承艺

2.静态传承，存抟留尹

二创新——流行风尚中的文化创意

1.开发

2.转化

三销售——多元平台中的消费定位

第四节苏州桃花坞木刻年画技艺风格

一刀趣与木味

1.绘稿

2.刻版

二墨线与五彩

1.印刷

2.开相

第五节苏州桃花坞木刻年画作品鉴赏

一滥觞期到全盛期

二流行期

1.神佛纸类

2.吉祥喜庆

3.戏曲故事

4.世俗生活

5.花鸟及其他

三新中国成立至20世纪90年代

1.20世纪50年代

2.20世纪60年代

3.20世纪70年代

4.20世纪80-90年代

第六节苏州桃花坞木刻年画人物记述

一主创人员剪影

1.绘稿人员

2.刻印人员

二代表人物传略

1.重量非物质文化遗产传承人房志达

2.江苏省工艺美术大师、省级非物质文化遗产传承人王祖德

后记桃之天天，灼灼其华

张适，女，1975年3月出生，设计艺术学专业硕士、苏州工艺美术职业技术学院副教授、不错工艺美术师。从事艺术史论教学与研究工作，发表研究论文30余篇，获各级各类表彰10余项。其中，主持、参与“苏州桃花坞木刻年画”重量、省级项目多项。

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• 作者：louis 发布时间：2012-06-30 21:27:57

  我买的澳大利亚的书也不少，不知道何时能去。

• 作者：喜多路Theodore 发布时间：2022-12-09 22:50:38

  对于第一篇章—思维认知更喜欢，对菜鸟和非资深管理者都很有帮助。对把目标翻译成任务这个管理有方也很赞赏，有案例有方法，总之是值得读的好书。

• 作者：xy.樱桃薄荷糖 发布时间：2018-06-01 13:45:30

  hk

• 作者：幻影领主 发布时间：2023-10-07 20:01:12

  马女权代表作，非常进步。

• 作者：龙井慕斯乌龙茶 发布时间：2023-01-23 13:44:09

  好清晰的思路，比我本科教科书好读

• 作者：Almighty 发布时间：2022-05-07 19:06:25

  大学时朋友送我的生日礼物

• 沈南鹏身上令人印象深刻的特点

  作者：木月MM 发布时间：2021-02-27 22:10:23

  1、沈南鹏最大的优点之一就是他的每一步都在发现自不停发现自己，反思自己，认清自己

  集中精力做自己擅长的事情，宣扬“反木桶效应”，短板应该是由团队来补充的。在耶鲁数学系时认清自己无法成为这个赛道的头部，转而放弃本专业转行MBA。在咨询和投行中决策，依然选择的是自己的长项。在创办公司之时，做总裁CFO而不做CEO。

  人做擅长的事情，本质上是容易有正反馈和成就感，长期更容易坚持下去。

  2、二元人格明显

  激情又具备理性、激进与保守并存。既骄傲又谦虚，既强硬又温柔。

  周鸿祎曾表示，沈南鹏是他的学习榜样，他把沈南鹏比喻成鲨鱼和杜宾犬，可以说很形象地描绘出了沈南鹏的特点。

  3、投资并不是一场纯粹的赌博

  沈南鹏有冒险精神，但同时具备了极高的冷静思维。熟悉沈南鹏的人说他是一个厌恶风险的人，其实沈南鹏是厌恶“无法掌控的风险”，对于自己不能掌控的事情，他有着天生的警觉。简而言之，沈南鹏所冒的险，都是可以承担后果的险。沈南鹏自己是如此阐述的：“假如我手上有100元，我可能只赌20元，我一定会预留的。”

  创业不是一味的冒险，要看清楚自己的底牌和承受的底线，再此基础上在加码。

• Notes for 《Bird by bird》

  作者：我是大皮哥 发布时间：2013-04-06 21:31:24

  书评会在这两周内写完，在此先贴出我的个人阅读笔记，仅供参考：

  “

  With the writer's quivalent of canvas and brush, i wrote a description of what I saw:"i walked to the lip of the water and let the foamy tongue of the rushing liquid lick my toes. A sand crab burrowed a hole a few inches from my foot and then disappeared into the damp sand..."

  I devoured books like a person taking vitamins, afraid that otherwise I would remain this gelatinous narcissist, with no possibility of ever becoming thoughtful, of ever being taken seriously.

  When they are working on their books or stories, their heads will spin with ideas and invention.

  They will have days at the desk of frantic boredom, of angry hopelessness, of wanting to quit forever, and there will be days when it feels like they have caught and are riding a wave.

  E. L. Doctorow once said that "writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."

  Hope, as Chesterton said, is ithe power of being cheerful in circumstances that we know to be desperate.

  A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft —— you just get it down. The second draft is the up draft —— you fix it up. You try to say what you have to say more accurately. And the third draft is the dental draft, where you check every tooth, to see if it's loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy.

  I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.

  Perfectionism is a mean, forzen form of idealism, while messes are the artist's true friend.

  One line of dialogue that rings true reveals character in a way that pages of description can't.

  If you are a writer, or want to be a writer, this is how you spend your days —— listening, observing, storing things away, making your isolation pay off.

  Life is not like formula fiction. The villain has a heart, and the hero has great flaws.

  Rationality squeezes out much that is rich and juicy and fascinating.

  Writing is about hypnotizing yourself into believing in yourself, getting some work done, then unhypnotizing yourself and going over the material coldly.

  Jealousy is such a direct attack on whatever measure of confidence you've been able to muster. But if you continue to write, you are probably goiing to have to deal with it, because some wonderful, dazzling successes are going to happen for some of the most awful, angry undeserving writers you know —— people who are, in other words, not you.

  You get all caught up in such fantasies because you feel, once again like the kid outside the candy-store window, and you believe that this friend, this friend whom you now hate, has all the candy. You believe that success is bringing this friend inordinate joy and serenity and security and that her days are easier.

  One person reminded me of what Jean Rhys once wrote, that all of us writers are little rivers running into one lake, that what is good for one is good for all, that we all collectively share in one another's success and acclaim.

  The word block suggests that you are constipated or stuck, when the truth is that you're empty. As I said in the last chapter, this emptiness can destroy some writers, as do the shame and frustration that go with it.

  Life is like a recycling center, where all the concerns and dramas of humankind get recycled bak and forth across the universe.

  We seek instead all the wordly things —— possessions, money, looks, and power —— because we think they will bring us fulfillment. But this turns out to be a joke, because they are just props, and when we check out of this life, we have to give them all back to the great propmaster in the sky.

  The writer's job is to see what's behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words —— not just into any words but if we can, into rhythm and blues.

  Your child and your work hold you hostage, suck you dry, ruin your sleep, mess with your head, treat you like dirt, and then you discover they've given you that gold nugget you were looking for all along.

  It is one of the greatest feelings known to humans, the feeling of being the host, of hosting people, of being the person to whom they come for food and drink and company. This is what the writer has to offer.

  We are wired as humans to be open to the world instead of encloses in a fortified, defensive mentality.

  But then I remembered that whenever the world throws rose petals at you, which thrill and seduce the ego, beware.

  You are lucky to be one of those people who wishes to build sand castles with words, who is willing to create a place where your imagination can wander. We build this place with the sand of memories; these castles are our memories and inventiveness made tangible. So part of us believes that when the tide starts coming in, we won't really have lost anything, because actually only a symbol of it was there in the sand. Another part of us thinks we'll figure out a way to divert the ocean. This is what separates artist from ordinary people: the belief, deep in our hearts, that if we build our castles well enough, somehow the ocean won't wash them away. ”