Most of the noise and hubbub in amateur photography on Taiwan during the 1960s was centered around Taipei. But while photographic societies in the north were wrapped up in their various fads and fashions, a number of photographers in the south were quietly concentrating on realistic black-and-white shots, directly and honestly portraying people and the ways they live.
One of the most outstanding of this latter group was Liu An-ming. His pictures reveal a rare "quality of character": a mixture of harmony, sincerity, humor, and love. Under his calm and broad vision, we experience a respect for individual life and encounter the beauty of pure and sincere emotions.
Liu An-ming was born in Pingtung County, in the extreme south of Taiwan, in 1928. He grew up in the country, helping his family raise ducks, pasture cows, plant sugarcane, and harvest rice, experiences which have been the source of his special feeling for farm life and for children.
After he learned how to take pictures, Liu spent much of his time traveling about the countryside, where the process of taking photographs was as natural to him as recapturing memories of his childhood.
In "Childhood Sweethearts" he vividly captures the warm and playful feelings of a pair of children pasturing cattle, realized with understanding and affection. "Playing in the Water," with its rhythmic movement and splashing water, is charged with energy and joy. And in "Tending Cattle" Liu fuses Nature, man, and animals in a poetic scene of children playing at their chores--lovely and touching pictures of childhood that reveal that the photographer possesses both wise eyes and a childlike heart.
Liu An-ming's occupation with photography began in his teens, when he started helping out in the dark-room of his brother's photo studio. After 1945 he worked at various studios and taught photography, until his marriage in 1956, when he opened his own studio in Pingtung. Although he had never owned a small camera, his interest in outdoor photography was awakened by his "teacher" Lin Tsang-chin, whom he would ride about with on a motorcycle, borrowing his Rolleicord to snap shots with.
Around 1961, when Chang Shih-hsien, an enthusiastic advocate of realistic photography, invited him to join his "Taiwan Photography Society," Lin was forced to admit, "How can I join? I don't have a camera!" Chang then bought him a Pentax H2 with two lenses. Now that he finally had a small camera of his own, Lin began to take pictures in quantity, of whatever he saw and whatever he could think of.
Liu recalls his feelings toward realistic photography at the time: "It was like in Italy after just after World War Ⅱ, I suppose. Art for art's sake was replaced by art for life's sake. They wanted to look squarely at human life and promote communication, sympathy, and understanding."
With this determination, besides outdoor shots and records of daily life, Liu also turned to subjects of social concern. In 1960, for example, when he saw that children who didn't attend their teacher's private night classes were given extra homework, Liu, a father himself, took a series of photos expressing his distaste. And in 1963, in reaction to the movement to feed infants with cow's milk rather than mother's milk, he produced a series called "The Love That's Going to Disappear" expressing his concern. Laborers and fishermen were other themes he worked on, not all successfully he admits. Nevertheless, photographers with such creative ideas were rare indeed at the time, and his pictures of social conscience met with some misunderstanding and rejection.
Looking at the best of Liu's works, we discover in them the common qualities of honesty, sincerity, and respect for the mankind. The woman in "Rice Planting," the farmer in "Going to Work," the aborigine in "Offering a Light," the young man in "At Home, Out of Work," and the children in "Childhood Sweethearts," all reveal Liu's respect and affection for his subjects.
"Tending Cattle," "Releasing Life," and "Tourists" display his broad-minded range of vision and his quiet and thoughtful powers of observation. The contrast in black and white of the four nuns in front of a souvenir picture stand at Santimen gives "Tourists" a particular interest.
A similar interest and humor is evident in "Releasing Life" and "Offering a Light." The happy expressions of the old men watching the release of a pigeon and the intensity of the aborigine grasping the hilt of his sword as a lowlander lights his cigarette leave the viewer with a smile.
Liu's upward shot of the woman in "Planting Rice" and its slightly tilted composition add to the viewer's feeling of "being there." And the side angle shot of the farmer in "Going to Work," besides emphasizing the weight of the baskets, gives the picture a three-dimensional effect and adds to its compositional interest.
As to composition, "Playing in the Water," "Wetting Down," and "A Wrinkled Face," reveal a careful and studied side, in which bold angles, cutting, and contrast create strength and intensity. In addition, Liu's years of experience in the dark-room ensure that all his pictures are superb in tone and quality feel.
"The beauty that comes from the heart, that's real beauty," Liu has said. He had described his photographic ideals and attitude this way: "The breadth of meaning in realistic photography is like a hole; the more you dig, the deeper it gets. But if you had to put it in a phrase, the phrase would be purity and truth. . . . Let's get back to the pure and true."
Clear and unwavering ideas, a concerned and loving heart, a cool and calm vision, and an inclusive acceptance of life, aren't these the makings of a photographer whose pictures will last?
[Picture Caption]
Liu An-ming, 1986.
Childhood Sweethearts, 1963.
Going to Work, 1960.
Planting Rice, 1964.
At Home, Out of Work, 1965.
Tending Cattle, 1966.
(l.) Offering a Light, 1954.
(r.) Releasing Life, 1966.
Playing in the Water, 1967.
Wetting Down, 1967.
A Wrinkled Face, 1965.
Tourists, 1967.
Childhood Sweethearts, 1963.
At Home, Out of Work, 1965.
(l.) Offering a Light, 1954.
(r.) Releasing Life, 1966.
Playing in the Water, 1967.