The location: the athletic field of Pingdeng Elementary School in Beitou, Taipei City. The time: 2 p.m. Stagehands begin erecting and decorating the stage, moving electronic equipment, putting up the lights, and setting up the sound equipment. This production will be in no way inferior to those held at the National Theater in Taipei!

At dusk, adults leading children by the hand begin to trickle in and sit down beneath the canopy of stars. On stage, an armor-clad Don Quixote rides out on horseback to do battle with a windmill, which turns out to be a hideous dragon. At precisely the moment when the knight topples the monster from the stage, stagehands unleash a cloud of dry-ice fog, and the kids excitedly cheer, "Down with the monster!" This scene never fails to work the little ones up to an ecstatic pitch, their delighted laughter and squeals echoing through the night air.

Paper Windmill Foundation CEO Lee Yung-feng's troupe has staged this production more than 300 times. His artistic commitment and his novel fundraising techniques, both greatly evidenced in his nationwide tour, made his foundation recipient of the fifth Presidential Culture Awards Creativity Award. Naturally, the NT$1 million prize went straight back into the project.

Don Quixote is Paper Windmill's signature piece. Just as Don Quixote sought to "dream the impossible dream," so does this intrepid troupe endeavor to see its difficult quest to completion

With the noticeable exception of Wang Chien-ming breaking into Major League Baseball in the USA, daily news in 2006 offered Taiwanese little to be excited about. The prevailing mood was one of stifling inertia.

"I really didn't feel up to doing much around that time, what with the poor box-office figures and all. I kept thinking that this wouldn't do at all-what's an actor supposed to do if not act?" Lee recalls. Whenever he got together with director friends Wu Nien-jen and Ko I-Chen, they invariably discussed their children. Making art for kids to enjoy offered a way out of his creative torpor.

"At the very least we can put on shows for kids-and we should bring them to kids across the country." That session produced the creative germs as well as many of the technical details. In order to avoid political hassles, Lee was determined to reject any governmental assistance, preferring instead to raise the money on his own, one dollar at a time. By so doing, he showed implicit faith in the generosity of the Taiwanese people.

"We were all against it," says Jen Chien-cheng, Paper Windmill's troupe director. Though long accustomed to implementing big boss Lee's whimsical visions, this seemed a bridge too far.

"Our resistance was a gut reaction," says Jen. "The scope of this thing was enormous, yet we were supposed to raise funds on our own. Where was that money to come from, or the manpower? How much time were we supposed to put in? Would private donations really provide enough to compensate for the lack of governmental support?"

As he circulated his proposal at the Paper Windmill board meetings, celebrated film director Wu Nien-jen would occasionally offer his two cents. Time and again, Lee's buddy Wu proved to be his staunchest supporter, often speaking at corporate and social club fundraisers. "In the beginning, we were banking heavily on corporate support," says Lee, and Wu's fame guaranteed that the corporate heavies would be in attendance.

"The only problem was, after the speeches ended, not too many checks were signed. Every time when we would see these cheapskates dithering about with their pocketbooks, Wu would swear under his breath, 'I usually get paid good money for these kinds of events.'"

But they also discovered sponsors and allies. Once Wu attended a friendly gathering hosted by Eurasian Publishing Co. CEO Jian Chih-chun at which Jian eloquently summarized the aims of the project. One of Jian's friends then said unassumingly, "I'd like to donate on behalf of Yongjing Township [in Changhua County]." Another more demonstrative individual followed with a pledge to cover the expenses for Longjing in Taichung. It was an encouraging and welcome scene after the initial setbacks.

People have contributed their labor and their money in order to secure a performance in their hometown. It only costs NT$350,000 for one show, and every time they make sure to list all of the individual and corporate sponsors as a token of gratitude.

The reasons for eschewing government support had to do with the cultural environment in Taiwan.

Lee was born in 1962. Before entering the theater department at the National Institute of the Arts (now Taipei National University of the Arts), he joined the highly influential LanLing Theatre Workshop, where he was tutored by its founder, the renowned psychologist Wu Jing-jyi. To this day, he still refers to Wu by the honorific "Master."

At age 24, with his academic training and the LanLing stint behind him, Lee elected to enter the unpopular realm of children's theater. He soon found out that Taiwanese were not great patrons of the theater, and realized that a career in performance would be filled with hardship. "How can theater thrive when attendance is poor?" he queried.

"With no commercial viability to speak of, theater has become dependent on government patronage, which means playing at government events. This is the quandary that we face: Art should be separate from the government, but because of the aesthetic climate in Taiwan, performance art has been reduced to pygmy status," he sighs.

That was certainly the case in 1993, they year Lee founded Paper Windmill Theatre with Ko I-Chen and other friends. They received numerous government commissions to perform at large events like the parade on Double Tenth Day, the International Children's Folklore and Folkgame Festival in Yilan, and the Plan for the Promotion of Youth Theater.

But as a small-town boy from the West Coast, there was one niggling concern that could not be denied. No matter how a performance went, or whether it was conventional or children's theater, he could not escape the fact that his audiences were invariably middle-class folk a world removed from his own humble origins.

"I'm just a kid from Budai Township in Chiayi County. Where I grew up, there are plenty of people who've never set foot inside a theater, much less to see children's theater. I could never consider myself a successful dramatist unless I found a way to bring my work to the people I care most about," he avers.

Taking a cue from American Broadway shows like Cats and The Lion King, Paper Windmill created its own animal musical, Chicken Story, whose compelling plot and musical and dance numbers have made it a smash hit.

Lee chose the name Paper Windmill because he liked the symbolism of the windmill, which in his words "moves when the wind blows, and moves on its own in the absence of wind."

The year that Paper Windmill zeroed in on children's theater, a group of people associated with the theater department at Taipei National University of the Arts established the Greenray Theatre Company, which emphasized a repertoire of accessible dramatic works. In 2000, Wu Nien-jen came aboard. The following year he began promoting a series exploring the experiences of ordinary people called The Human Condition, which Lee helped produce in addition to being one of the featured actors. Its poignant themes struck a chord with theatergoers, making it a commercial success.

"Every time I do something at the National Theater I run into the same set of people," observes Wu Nien-jen. But when The Human Condition was doing its run, Wu overheard from theater staff that there were a lot of attendees who looked nothing like the usual theater mavens. "If that is the case, then it represents a clear success for us, because we managed to bring in a fresh audience."

Whether it's Don Quixote and the Windmill on Chimei Island in the Penghu archipelago or Wu Song Tames the Tiger at Binan Township in Taitung County, the kids are guaranteed a night of fun under the stars.

Between Paper Windmill and Greenray, Lee has become a capable pitchman. Laptop in hand, he heads off to one corporate fundraiser after the other. Though the results he achieves vary, it's certainly not due to poor salesmanship. He's crafted a killer opener designed to pull at the heartstrings of his listeners:

"Where is your home? Where did you grow up? Has it been a while since you last saw your parents and the place where you were brought up? Paper Windmill needs your help to bring a performance to your hometown."

He then goes into the stanza of his well-rehearsed pitch: "If we make it to your hometown, you can give your donation receipt to your mother, so she can see the show for free. Just think what that would mean to her...."

At one social event, he took the then-deputy chief editor of the China Times, Zhang Ruichang, aside and launched into his promotional spiel. Zhang stopped him before long and produced three NT$1000 bills from his wallet saying, "Please help me to fund Wuri-that's where I'm from." Two days later, the newspaper ran a front-page story on Paper Windmill's ambitious project.

The press conference that formally launched the "319 Townships" series was a gathering of prominent cultural figures including Xiaoye, Wu Nien-jen, Wu Jing-jyi, Ms. Weiwei, and Jian Jinghui. The business sector was represented by ChungHwa Telecom, Taiwan Sugar Corporation, Taiwan Secom Co., Ltd., and Taian Insurance Co., Ltd., companies that lent early support to the project by underwriting specific performances. Once the series had commenced, the Liberty Times made sure to list information for the following day's show.

However, once the performances were underway they found themselves having to make constant revisions. They initially budgeted NT$600,000 for each performance, a figure that covered equipment, personnel, and transportation, which eventually slid to NT$450,000 and then again to NT$350,000. The lack of funding resigned cast and crew members to relatively inhospitable accommodations, seeing as they were only allotted NT$500 per night. With the operating budget greatly diminished, Paper Windmill was losing NT$100,000 each performance. The strain was more extreme when traveling to the outlying islands of Penghu, Jinmen, and Wuqiu, for which they had to spend upwards of NT$100,000 just in boat or plane fees to move the 80-90 people involved in the production.

The folks at Paper Windmill get the biggest satisfaction from seeing kids laugh (left photo, Green Island, Taitung County). Kids have even donated pocket change at the performances (right, Xiaying District, Tainan City).

People donated as though heeding a higher calling, rivulets of individual contributions accumulating into a mighty stream. Some donated their labor on behalf of their hometown. Over five years, 24,000 individual and group donations, often in the name of a parent or a village, accrued to a staggering NT$200 million.

Behind the donations are innumerable stories and kindnesses. If you look at the 319 Townships' donation log, you'll see people who donated on behalf of their hometown in honor of their deceased father. There was a teacher who made a sign and canvassed the post office and the night markets for donations, and a breakfast store that donated a whole day's earnings. Kids in remote villages pooled their pocket money, in amounts of NT$1 and NT$5. A chain of goodwill interconnected the projects' originators, its sponsors, volunteers, and audiences, achieving an elusive resonance that most movements can only dream of.

From the first performance at Yuanshan Township, Yilan County through August of this year, Paper Windmill has played at 313 townships. During these five years, jokes the nearly-50-year-old Lee, he's consumed so much alcohol at fundraising events that he's grown a beer belly. However, he understands how reliant he is on the support of all kinds of people, whether they be in the media, business, or some other field. Hence, when someone raises their glass, he's always ready to oblige, even if it is costing him his previously trim physique.

The folks at Paper Windmill get the biggest satisfaction from seeing kids laugh (left photo, Green Island, Taitung County). Kids have even donated pocket change at the performances (right, Xiaying District, Tainan City).

He still has vivid memories of January 3, 2007. Paper Windmill's performance schedule had taken them to Mt. Ali, which was enshrouded in a chilling wintery mist. Lee found himself concerned about the inclement conditions: "We'd been through so much. We came up with the money and the talent. The show is rehearsed and ready to go. But if no one shows, what then?"

But when the curtain opened they heard the sounds of cars, motorcycles, and children's laughter and saw people from throughout the mountainous region making their way to Mt. Ali Elementary. Only 3000 people live in the area, but more than 1000 adults and children braved the mountain roads to be in attendance that night.

When they came to the part of the program with fireworks, the children gathered below the stage let out delighted shrieks. Offstage, Lee lit a cigarette, and as he looked at the stage bathed in light, he suddenly burst into tears. He slipped away for a moment to recover himself, and when he returned, he saw that the eyes of everyone in the production were also reddened from tears.

"It was a tremendous feeling of release. I knew right then that I was going to see this thing through to the end, no matter of how long the road might be."

When his father passed away at the end of last year, Lee was tormented with grief. Ever since leaving for school in Taipei, he had been consumed by his work as an actor and a director. It wasn't until the close of 2009, more than 20 years after his departure, that he finally brought his onstage work back to his hometown of Budai. Little did he realize at the time that his father was entering his last year.

Now the end of the journey is within sight, and he knows he has come a very long way toward resolving his own worries about approaching middle age.

"People die. Once they've been reduced to ash, that's the end of it. My only concern now is for my own happiness and that of my family and friends- along with bringing smiles to children."

"If people ask me when this mission of mine is accomplished whether or not I'd like to keep this thing going, I'll say, 'If others want to pick up where I've left off, they have my blessing. But for me, the road ends here.'"

319 Townships has been the beacon guiding Lee through midlife crisis. It also has added 20 new works to Paper Windmill's repertoire.

"Whenever we debut a new work, we always pay close attention to the reaction of the children. After the show, we meet to discuss if it needs any changes to the plot, the props, or the staging," explains Paper Windmill administrative director Zhang Minyi. Some new works "die a natural death" after numerous revisions, but what survives becomes core repertoire. It is a process which also strengthens their adaptation skills.

Of all the classic works they perform, Don Quixote is the children's favorite. Whenever the knight rides horseback onto the stage in his glittering armor, all of the kids burst into smiles and laughter.

They've made a number of revisions to the original story and character to make it more appropriate for local audiences. After the knight defeats the giant, four-meter-tall, 10-meter-long dragon, he never forgets to slip in a little bit of self-promotion: "I, Don Quixote, am determined to do my utmost to help children take their first steps into the world of art."

One show can make an indelible imprint on a young mind. Those who have seen Don Quixote up close firmly believe that it plants seeds that will later bear fruit.

"I've always believed that the most crucial thing is to help one another. The past 10 years or so, the atmosphere in Taiwan has been so aggravated, so edgy. We need to find new goals and new role models to inspire people with their warmth, tolerance, and vision. 319 is about building bridges whose planks and beams are love. I just thank the heavens that it has received the popular support that it has," says Lee.

As he utters these words, the mischievous smile and actor's lilting cadence are no longer in evidence. His face shows a degree of reticence, like the glittering Don Quixote onstage, but tempered with earthiness.

This Don Quixote possesses an inexorable will that no setback can ever dent. His dreams win over all those who draw near his stage, and somehow they find themselves willing to do their all to help this coarse, red-blooded drinker and betel-nut chewer, this uneasy mixture of world-weary cynicism and unquenchable idealism, in his quest to surpass all limits in the name of unleashing a budding positive social energy.

And when that benevolent breeze begins to blow, windmills will be turning in 319 towns and villages throughout the nation.

Whether it's Don Quixote and the Windmill on Chimei Island in the Penghu archipelago or Wu Song Tames the Tiger at Binan Township in Taitung County, the kids are guaranteed a night of fun under the stars.

As an actor, Paper Windmill Foundation CEO Lee Yung-feng is both powerful and natural, traits which have made him an in-demand television pitchman. Here we see Lee in The Human Condition series portraying a borough chief to great effect.