Master woodcarver Li Sung-lin, 83, likes to refer to himself as a manual worker. Craftsmen have traditionally been held in low regard in Chinese society, but by dint of devotion to his calling and the artistry of his work Li has frequented the doors of the rich and famous and been treated on an equal footing by the powerful and elite.
He has his own ideas on the subject. "No matter whether you're a scholar wielding a pen or a workman wielding a knife," he maintains, "people will look up to you as long as you do your best and give it your all."
This is one woodcarver who has raised himself in status from artisan to artist.
Li's great-grandfather, a woodcarver himself, came to Taiwan more than 140 years ago from Chuanchow in Fukien province, even then renowned as a center of traditional Chinese woodcarving, to take part in restoration work on the Lungshan and Tienhou temples in Lukang, a stronghold of traditional folk arts in southern Taiwan. He settled down there with his family, and he and his sons went on to leave evidence of their craftsmanship in temples around the island.
Born to such a family in such a place, Li Sung-lin was favored by both nature and nurture to follow in his forebears' footsteps. "Ever since I can remember, all I saw around me was camphor wood and carving knives. My grandfather, father and uncles were all carvers. We helped out as kids and picked things up naturally as we went along," he recalls, ascribing his affinity for the art of woodcarving to fate.
His childhood and youth were typical for many folk artists of the time. His mother died when he was young and his father spent much of the year away from home, so he was raised by an uncle, to whom he was apprenticed at age 13.
"I was two or three years younger than the other apprentices, and I hurt myself with the knife a lot because I wasn't as strong as they were. But my carvings were as good as theirs or better," he remembers.
His first outside assignment before the end of his three-year apprenticeship was a big one: working at the residence of the city's most prominent family (the building is now the Lukang Folk Culture Museum). The furniture in wealthy homes at the time was all custom designed and made, and Li is still proud of the beds, chairs, tables and dressers he designed and carved for the family as a 15 year-old.
Large temples need to be repaired once every seventy or eighty years, and in the old days only the best craftsmen would be called together for the job, giving them a chance to sharpen their skills by watching and learning and trying to outdo one another. From green youth to hoary old age, Li has probably worked at more temples than most people have visited.
After becoming a journeyman at age 18, Li went off to take part in restoration work on the Lungshan and Tienhou temples like his father and older brother before him. And at age 21 he was the youngest of eight craftsmen chosen to carve the statues in the Ta-lung-tung Confucian temple in Taipei.
The greater part of his work has been done at temples, such as the Tsu-shih temple in Sanhsia, the Ma-tsu temple in Yuanlin, the Lungshan temple in Taipei and the Confucius temples in Changhua and Taichung. He built up a strong physique working outdoors, and friends and neighbors often commented that the gods must have blessed him with good health for doing so much good work for them.
Temple work also sharpened his skills. Juan Chang-jui, director of anthropology at the Taiwan Provincial Museum, believes that the breadth of Li's subjects and the vividness of his figures are directly related to his having absorbed the essence of tradition by participating in so many temple restorations.
The Japanese like to give handmade items as gifts, and Li's decorative pieces were popular with them during the occupation. His decorative pieces have been much in demand since the war as well. The altar presented to Pope John ⅩⅩⅢ by the Catholic Church on his investiture and the commemorative statue presented to Chiang Ching-kuo by the Changhua agricultural association in celebration of the first anniversary of his election as president were both works of his.
He has also taken part in many international exhibitions. He had works of his shown at the Taiwan Exhibition in Japan, when he was 23, and he carved the logo for the R.O.C. display at the New York World's Fair when he was 54.
The logo was an important assignment. It represented the four great inventions of paper, the compass, gunpowder and printing, and it was something of a hot potato because Li took over after another artist's work had been deemed unsatisfactory and he had to work day and night to finish it on time.
In recent years, as the family business has steadily prospered and been taken over by one of his sons, relieving him of the need to work for a livelihood, Li has broken through the confines of tradition and been able to work freely as he wishes. His skills are still solid, but his subjects are more creative and livened by a humorous touch.
Li has remained faithful to wood-carving throughout his career. "He's done this one thing all his life, pouring all his heart into it. That kind of spirit is something young people nowadays don't have," says Ho Ming-chi, a professor of applied arts at Fu Jen Catholic University. And despite his age, he still works at home every day.
His life is very simple. Two meals a day, some cigarettes, wine and tea--the brand is not important--are enough to keep him going. His only entertainment is watching Peking opera on television Saturday afternoons. As for the glaucoma operation he had on his left eye this March, his only regret is having had to set aside the unfinished new piece he was working on.
He has seven students in his workshop, running in age from Lin Ch'ien, 85, and Shih Chin-i, who has studied with him for nearly 20 years, to Yang Chih-lung, who is 15 and is just starting out.
Li has high hopes for them, but traditional craftsmen are a vanishing breed in today's increasingly materialistic society. How long can his students carry on? One thing is sure: the tests they are facing are even greater than those of their master.
[Picture Caption]
During his life Li Sung-lin has left behind works in temples all over Taiwan. The picture at left shows a tiao-tung, or "hanging-tube" decoration of one of the Eight Immortals he made at the Tienhou temple in Lukang. The old man picking his ear is one of a series of carvings called "The Four Joys of Life." He resembles Li not only in his features but also in his outlook on life. (photo at left courtesy of Li Sung-lin)
Below are his works "Star of Longevity" (left) and "Chung K'uei" (right)
Sound in health and with a son to carry on the family vocation, Li is the envy of many folk artists who have no apprentices or students to carry on their craftsmanship.
(Above left) The moveable partition Li made for the Huang family in Lukang is ingeniously designed so that the facing can be changed to suit the occasion. (photo courtesy of Li Sung-lin)
(Above right) One of his "Pair of Lions"
(Below right) His "Kuan-yin of the Moon and Water"
(Left) Li Sung-lin's "Ma-ku Bringing Longevity"
During his life Li Sung-lin has left behind works in temples all over Taiwan. The picture at left shows a tiao-tung, or "hanging-tube" decoration of one of the Eight Immortals he made at the Tienhou temple in Lukang. The old man picking his ear is one of a series of carvings called "The Four Joys of Life." He resembles Li not only in his features but also in his outlook on life. （photo at left courtesy of Li Sung-lin）
During his life Li Sung-lin has left behind works in temples all over Taiwan. The picture at left shows a tiao-tung.
Below are his works "Star of Longevity" （left） and "Chung K'uei" （right）
Sound in health and with a son to carry on the family vocation, Li is the envy of many folk artists who have no apprentices or students to carry on their craftsmanship.
（Above left） The moveable partition Li made for the Huang family in Lukang is ingeniously designed so that the facing can be changed to suit the occasion. （photo courtesy of Li Sung-lin）
（Left） Li Sung-lin's "Ma-ku Bringing Longevity".
Sound in health and with a son to carry on the family vocation, Li is the envy of many folk artists who have no apprentices or students to carry on their craftsmanship.
（Below right） His "Kuan-yin of the Moon and Water".
His "Kuan-yin of the Moon and Water".
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