One of the mysteries of photography is how the flow and process of reality, when reconsidered as a moment of frozen stillness, may at times take on an atmosphere of fantasy and imagination. This kind of "new vision" is something which the naked eye is incapable of experiencing in the fret and bustle of ongoing reality.

Among the few photographers active during the 1960's who were able to fuse realism and fantasy in this way, Lin Ch'ing-yun must be counted as one of the most outstanding. The realistic subject matter of his pictures seems to be giving us intimations of another world.

In "Earth's Daughter," an everyday rice-planting scene takes on, under Lin's hands, a strange and completely different aspect. The grainy texture of the woman's startlingly white work clothes and their contrast with the dark soil of the field have a nonrealistic feel. Her legs, sunk in the mud, seem shackled to the earth; the trail she leaves behind as she crawls forward reminds us of a snail's, a reptile's. The angle and positioning of the picture seem dislocated. Her posture implies an image—of worshiping the earth and of suffering.

"Morning" also gives one a sense of borderline reality. An old man out for a stroll, a loafing dog, and three people practicing Chinese shadow boxing represent a common enough sight in an early morning park, but they acquire fresh life here with the interesting contrasts in their attitudes, set off by the light and shade. These five "focal points" of the photograph, which seem close together in space, are distant psychologically, a distance to which the unseen presence of the photographer adds a further layer, lending the whole an air of unreality.

Lin Ch'ing-yun was born in 1927 to a fishing family in Linpien Village in Pingtung County, the southernmost county on Taiwan. Drafted by the Japanese, he served as a technician in the Japanese navy for three years in Indonesia. On returning home in 1946, he acquired a 6 x 6 military camera left behind by the Japanese, which marked his first contact with photography.

For the next ten years he worked as a newspaper reporter in Pingtung, taking pictures on his own in addition to those for his stories. In 1953 he passed an examination qualifying him to draft legal documents for real estate transactions, a profession he has pursued to this day, although his wife sometimes kids him that "photography is your real occupation; drafting real estate documents is just a hobby."

In the early 1960's he and Chang Ta-ming founded the Pingtung Single Lens Photography Club, one of the longest-running and most respected photography clubs in the south of the island. Lin served as chief officer of the club for its first ten years.

Among the club's early members, Lin was a close friend of Liu An-ming, although their styles are something of a contrast. Both photographers start out from a spirit of realism, but Lin moves on to approach another plane of reality.

In "Young Woman Clamming" we see a clever combination of various lines: horizontal, vertical, triangular, square, round, erratic. Her black sun mask and spotted raincoat seem like strange costumes from the stage, but what we see of her hands and feet are solidly realistic. Her hidden expression, which we can only guess at, is the picture's emotional focal point.

In a similar way, another sun mask adds a sense of the surreal to "Spring Plow ing." The animal's whorled fur, its musculature, the bamboo stick, and the girl's hidden features form a scene at once realistic and mysterious.

And "Driving Them Home," besides possessing a comic playfulness, acquires a certain feeling of dislocation and absurdity because of its odd spatial setting.

Lin is particularly adept at geometrical arrangements of lines and at capturing light and shadow.

In "Peeking" the children's arms and legs and the structure of the building provide a rich variety of angles for the eye to dwell on, as we "peek on" the children being "peeked on" by the photographer. And a simple yet ingenious crisscrossing of lines turns the realistic scene of "Fisherman" into something of a dreamscape.

A sharp contrast between light and dark is used to telling effect in other pictures. In "After the Rain" Lin vividly transforms an ordinary raincoat, setting it off against a rich background of clouds and puddles. In "Loneliness" the old woman seems fixed to the bench like a statue; her shadow on the tiles, a reflection of her frame of mind. And in "Solitary Walker" the human figure is dwarfed by the desolate hills behind it.

Having just entered his sixtieth year, Lin Ch'ing-yun still carries his camera around villages in the South taking pictures. That he can still create photographs as rich as "After the Rain," which was taken just this year, proves that his skills have in no way dulled with age. He is one older photographer worth watching, and from whom we can expect still more.

[Picture Caption]

Lin Ch'ing-yun at age 45, 1972.

Earth's Daughter, 1962.

Morning, 1968.

(right) Peeking, 1965.

(left) Young Woman Clamming, 1967.

Driving Them Home, 1966.

Spring Plowing, 1967.

Fisherman, 1961.

After the Rain, 1987.

Solitary Walker, 197O.

Loneliness, 1978.

Life and Death in Shanghai was reported on by Time magazine and has moved many readers to write letters.

Nien Cheng left Shanghai with only US$20 and a suitcase. These two jade cups were the only souvenirs she managed to save.

Nien Cheng was touched by this faded old photograph from her college days which we brought her from a classmate of hers we happened to meet in Houston.

Lin Ch'ing-yun at age 45, 1972.

Earth's Daughter, 1962.

Morning, 1968.