For 40 years, Taiwan has been a constant, unfailing source of inspiration for painter Yang Hsing-sheng (楊興生). Mesmerized by the beauty of the island, he never gets tired of painting it. In recent years, however, he has been disconcerted to find its natural beauty disappearing, like that in other rapidly developing places around the world. He is determined to preserve as much as possible of its beauty in his paintings. He hopes his art can help awaken people's love for the island and inspire them to cherish what it still has.

Yang Hsing-sheng was born in 1938 in Jiangxi Province, China. He grew up at a time when the country was torn by the Sino-Japanese war and the civil war between the Nationalist army and the Communist forces. When he was 11 years old, China fell to the Communists and his family retreated to Taiwan with the Nationalist army. Yang, however, was left behind in his hometown to stay with his aged grandmother because his parents were afraid that their son, who was naughty and apt to get into mischief, would not be able to endure the long journey. Besides, they all believed they would soon be reunited when the Nationalists retook China.

Yang suffered a great deal during the following years. After the Communists occupied the village he lived in, he had to attend "struggle meetings" where people who were branded as members of the "five black categories" (rightists, counterrevolutionaries, thugs, former landlords, and former rich peasants, as well as their families and descendants) were subjected to severe physical torture and public censure. Yang even witnessed people killed or buried alive. These horrible experiences made a deep, enduring impact on him. "If I hadn't become a painter and dealt with these disturbing childhood experiences through the sublimation of art, I wonder if it would have been possible for me to attain a balanced mind."

When Yang was 14, his parents finally managed to smuggle him out of mainland China. He got to Hong Kong, but could not enter Taiwan without proper certificates. After staying in a refugee camp for more than a year, he finally obtained his certificates and was reunited with his family.

A lifelong passion

Yang has been fond of drawing since he was a child. The one who inspired him to take an interest in art was a laborer hired by his family when they still lived in China. The hired hand loved doodling and scribbling. Every day after he got off work, he would draw on walls with charcoal or crayons. Finding this interesting, Yang also began to draw. Noticing his penchant for art, Yang's family sent him to study under the painter Chi Kang (季康). Chi was famous for his traditional Chinese paintings of beautiful women. This kind of painting required detailed, meticulous brushwork. An active boy with no patience for monotony, Yang attended the lessons on and off for a couple of years. "Now as I recall it, those lessons laid a good foundation for my drawing skills, which greatly helped me in executing paintings later in my life."

The talented young man won a number of prizes for his art during his middle school years. After finishing his high school education, he passed the entrance examination to the Department of Fine Arts at National Taiwan Normal University. "Other people set off firecrackers to celebrate when their children passed the highly competitive college entrance examinations. My parents, however, had worried looks on their faces because they believed there was no future for one who engaged in art for a living."

Yang says that at that time his status in his family was very low. Every time a typhoon approached, his mother would call out, "Go get some of Hsing-sheng's paintings for me--I need them to shield the chicken coops from the rain and wind." "You see, my status was even lower than a chicken coop's," said the painter. But the situation took an about-face when he was about to graduate from university. An overseas Chinese bought one of his paintings displayed at a graduation exhibition for NT$2,000 (US$50). At that time, this was a very large figure. After that, whenever there was a typhoon, his mother would call, "Put Hsing-sheng's paintings away carefully. Don't let the rain get them wet. They're worth a fortune."

Yang was tremendously encouraged by the sale of the painting, and he began to embrace the idea that he might actually be able to make a living working as a full-time painter. "In a way, that overseas Chinese determined the course of my life. He made me feel respected. Otherwise, I might not have been able to stick to the path of artistic creation."

Like many young men at that time, Yang went to the United States to pursue further studies after he graduated from university and finished his two-year compulsory military service. One day while he was studying fine arts at Missouri State Teacher's College (now Central Missouri State University), he came upon an article in the library about American Indian folk art and was greatly intrigued. When he found out that New Mexico Highlands University was famous for its studies in the field, he transferred to that school and even lived with the local Indians. "I learned more from the Indians than I did at school, especially about colors and forms."

Seven galleries

Besides being a painter, Yang was also known for being a successful gallery manager. He says the idea of opening galleries came to him while he was studying at Highlands University. The university was near the town of Taos, famous for its abundance of galleries. Every year from July to October, artists from all over the world came here and rented space to sell their paintings. After making enough money, they headed back home--to Tahiti, Canada, or Asia. "Some of these artists were famous, some were not. But they had one thing in common: they were all happy and carefree. They told me they had no intention of becoming great artists. They just wanted to make enough money during those four months so they could paint to their hearts' content during the rest of the year." Seeing how contentedly happy those artists were, Yang came to realize the importance of art galleries, which provided a place for artists to sell their work so they could be free from financial worries. He thought to himself: "Why don't I open a gallery so artists can concentrate on their artistic creation and paint happily?"

He returned to Taiwan in 1971. By then, he had had the experience of running two galleries in America. Hoping to introduce the American gallery management system into Taiwan, he opened one of the first formal art galleries on the island.

Yang recalls that back in those years not many people in Taiwan ever bought original paintings and it was no easy task managing a gallery. He had to take care of everything himself--from distributing flyers door-to-door to delivering paintings to his clients. However, his hard work bore fruit. An astute businessman himself, he persuaded many entrepreneurs into buying paintings from him, and the Lung Men Art Gallery he established in 1975 became a highly profitable and prestigious business. One exhibition after another was staged and business boomed.

Six years after Lung Men opened, however, Yang suddenly awakened to the fact that he was spending less and less time painting and drifting farther and farther away from his youthful ideal of being a professional painter. What's more, because of the fame of the gallery, many people came to him to persuade him to have their or their friends' works displayed at the gallery. Some of the paintings, however, were rather mediocre. Yang refused to compromise and was therefore under constant pressure. In the end he decided to transfer the gallery to one of his employees and devote his full attention to painting.

Little did he know how hard it was to make a living as a full-time professional painter. In three years' time, he had spent all the money he had saved. Forced by circumstances, he opened several more galleries to support himself. He says that the last gallery he opened, the Seventh Gallery, realized his concept of an ideal gallery. Instead of organizing exhibitions for already renowned painters, it acted as agent for unknown but promising young painters. In addition, it focused on the middle class, rather than rich people, as its main source of clientele. When Yang first employed this marketing strategy for his gallery, he had difficulties paying his employees their salaries for six months. Fortunately, as more and more people came to know about the gallery, which sold paintings at prices they could afford, business started getting better. Eventually Yang was able to set up branch offices in two department stores. He was more than glad to see people like elementary school teachers and even postmen buy paintings at his gallery. He believed that art should not belong only to the rich. The appreciation and enjoyment of art should be shared by all, be they wealthy entrepreneurs or noodle stall vendors.

High expectations

In a span of about two decades, Yang opened a succession of seven galleries. When one talks about the history of art galleries in Taiwan, his name definitely cannot be left out. He opened his galleries to provide painters with space to promote and sell their works so they could concentrate their attention on how to create better works of art. He believes that painters have the obligation to create works of art and be content to leave other matters, like the pricing and selling of their works, to other professionals with the necessary training. It saddens him to see that this idea, which he has been promoting for over 30 years, has been poorly received in Taiwan. Many painters still price and sell their works themselves. A painter can raise the price of his paintings at will when he finds that his works are selling well. "We should really let the market and the professionals determine the prices of paintings. That's how an art market should work. Otherwise, unreasonable pricing will scare away those who are interested in buying art."

To practice what he preached, he closed down the Seventh Gallery and became a full-time painter in 1989. Eight years ago, he even set up a workshop and hired two assistants to take care of his correspondences and run a Web site for him. When his customers want to buy his paintings or when art galleries want to hold exhibitions for him, they go directly to his assistants. All he needs to do is paint. He hopes that if this works out for him, other painters will follow suit. He strongly believes that a clear division of labor is what a sound art market needs.

Leaving all the mundane business unrelated to artistic creation to his assistants, he now spends almost all his time painting, producing a large quantity of works. Every year, he spends about NT$1 million (US$28,570) on oil paints. "Some people think that a painter shouldn't create too many works; if you do, they think you are a painting machine. But these people have no idea that all the great painters around the world work assiduously. Take Picasso and Van Gogh for example--they both created a lot of paintings during their lifetime." Influenced by the idea that the more works they produce, the less valuable their works will be, some local painters try to restrict their output. Yang deplores the vicious cycle that this creates: "In this case, even if we have a lot of galleries, there will be no paintings to be displayed. Without paintings, there will be no competition. Without competition, our art market can't possibly become better."

Painting Taiwan

Since the time Yang came to Taiwan as a teenager, he has lived on the island for more than half a century. He has also been painting Taiwan for over 40 years. "I love painting Taiwan, because I grew up here and have developed deep feelings for it."

He remembers that when communications between Taiwan and China were reopened after an interruption of several decades, he went to Suzhou, a famous scenic spot in southeastern China, to paint from nature. In two months' time, he produced a large number of paintings, which were all sold later at an exhibition held in Taiwan. The owner of the gallery where the exhibition was staged urged Yang to go to Suzhou again and create more paintings, but Yang declined. "I painted Suzhou because I was curious about it. Now the curiosity is no longer there, and I have no feelings for it any more. Of course I could go there again to churn out more paintings and rake in a lot of money, but it would be painful for me." So he remains in Taiwan and continues to paint what he enjoys painting. "When you live in a place long enough, you develop an emotional attachment to it. Then painting it becomes meaningful to you."

During his years of residence in Taiwan, Yang witnessed the natural charm of the island being steadily eroded by overdevelopment, pollution, ugly buildings, and natural disasters. "It fills me with anxiety to see the beauty of the island fading away. So I'm racing against time to preserve as much as possible of its beauty in my paintings." Old farmhouses, paddy fields, fishing ports, the serene scenery of the countryside--the beauty of Taiwan is crystallized in his art, which has been showcased in numerous exhibitions both in Taiwan and abroad and has even appeared at auctions held by Christie's and Sotheby's.

Yang now lives in the countryside near Danshui, a suburb of Taipei, and leads a simple life. When he is caught up in a painting frenzy, he draws tirelessly into the wee hours. When he is not in the mood for artistic creation, he can stay away from it for as long as one or two months. What allows him to live such a free lifestyle is the popularity of his works, which are priced at a reasonable level to make them more accessible to the general public. The painter's ambition is to get more and more people involved in art.

Yang considers his current lifestyle to be ideal. "What can be more blissful than earning a livelihood by doing something one fully enjoys? I'll consider my life a success if I can paint happily to the end of my days."