After graduating from the National Taiwan Academy of the Arts in 1966, I came back to Puli to teach. At that time many people asked me, why not stay outside like most other young people to seek your fortune?

I always answered in this way: "You've got to plant some seeds in your hometown land."

Fortunately, I wasn't the only one who felt this way. For example, I-yung Hung and Wang Hao of the "Mei Stream Painting Association" and, later, Teng Hsiang-yang, were all like me: After going out to study, they came back to their hometown one after the other, and each in his own specialty did a little something for Puli.

Besides teaching and painting, we have begun a special column to be written about people. I don't write anything about big celebrities, just a bit about a few personalities from the streets of Puli. I do it because I feel that the special character of the roots and soil of Puli is right in these people, and they are living exemplars of Puli's culture and the impression it makes on others. For example, a handicapped vendor of lottery tickets on the street singing a sad Taiwanese song--doesn't that really show where local Puli come from?

Further, I have seen many of Puli's old streets disappear in the process of modernization, so it made me want to record the stories of the streets of Puli. For example, there is a street called Tatieh Street in Puli, which has a long history. Most of it was recently torn down to widen the road. I feel that it is a mark of the passage of time, and it is not necessary to desolately mourn the passage of the old or feel sad, but you need to truthfully make records to give to future generations.

Once a student asked me, "Why are all the mountains in your paintings blue?"

I said, "Because I am painting the mountains of Puli. Puli has dense mist, and after the light cuts through, the mountains radiate a blue color."

He then asked, "But you've been painting for over twenty years. Aren't you tired of that?"

How can you get tired of painting scenery of such beauty?

(Hsieh Shu-fen/tr. by Phil Newell)

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How can you get tired of painting Puli's mountains?

Stone Pottery Artist: Li Yao-tsung

The stone from the Mei Stream in Puli is of very even quality, and the lines and colors are subject to radical change. Moreover, there is an abundant amount, so it is great material for artistic work. In the past, if people didn't take some away just to admire, then they would randomly cut it, destroying its original natural lines and forms. I just thought, if you just carve out a small stone and cut open a spout, wouldn't that make a nice teapot?

With a light heart I made my first try. Little did I expect that it would be just right, and when friends saw it they admired it and also wanted one. So I kept on doing them and ended up in this field, and a hobby became a profession. At my first exhibition, the National Palace Museum even bought two.

Most of my work is made out of small stones, and I preserve the original shape as much as possible. I do a little design and carve it out and it's done. When I need large stones, I'll first carve out a small piece to do a model, and only go to get the material when I'm sure it's usable, in order to avoid wasting the materials and destroying the environment.

I moved to Puli with my father when I was in primary school, more than twenty years ago, so I guess I should be considered a local Puli person. In fact, we don't draw distinctions here, and we all work happily each at his own profession in the "Greater Puli Arts Studio" that we have jointly put together.

I rarely feel the pressure of competition in Puli. When I'm tired or bored, I just put my work aside and go out to find a friend to have tea and chat. Friends here stay in close touch, and there's no need to call first. You just open the door and go in, and it doesn't matter how long you talk for. Now that's living.

(Hsieh Shu-fen/tr. by Phil Newell)

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It's more interesting if everybody works together.

Field Researcher: Teng Hsiang-yang

I originally studied medicine. I got into the arts because of the influence of the older generation like Liang Kun-ming, Wang Hao, and I-yung Hung. When I saw that they were willing to spend their lives in Puli, and do the work of putting down roots, I asked myself: I am also a child of Puli, why don't I dare to become a so-called "fool" too!?

I can't paint, and I don't understand the creative process. But at least I can collect written materials and put together historical data. So I moved in the direction of field research. Little did I expect that it would be the same old story of competing for things with machines. Because today when you want old artifacts or temples to be renewed, often in order to save trouble, people just use a machine and tear down the entire old structure. And in this way history is eradicated.

I saved one Matsu temple from the clutches of the monstrous machine. I even brought the statue of Matsu back to the Hsiang Yang Cultural Museum. This statue had great significance, because in general in Taiwan Matsu is a goddess of the sea, and only this one depicted her as a mountain goddess. She is a goddess developed by the P'ing-p'u people. The guys who were rebuilding the temple, predictably, thought that this clay statue was too old and in poor condition, and wanted to put a new one in its place. There are also other things like old trees nearly 100 years of age. You don't want to just cut them down, because if these things disappear, they can never be brought back.

I'm worried that Puli will disappear in just this way. Taking the land for instance, now young people are all inclined to go to the cities to make their fortunes, and aren't willing to remain in Puli. They often convince their parents to sell their nearly 3,000 p'ing of land in Puli and go to Taipei and buy a 30 p'ing apartment. On the surface, the two are of equivalent value, but in the future if they want to buy their land back, it might cost tens of millions of NT dollars. So who wins? Isn't it just those outsiders who come in and speculate to drive land prices up?

This situation is not unique to Puli. It is a product of extreme imbalances in the development of Taiwan's urban and rural areas.

Thus, the thing I want to do most is to stir up a local consciousness, to make Puli people understand the precious assets they have. Last year we held a "Puli Arts Festival," and invited Puli artists to hold an exhibition each month, for twelve consecutive months, so that Puli residents could partake of the arts all year round. The response was pretty good.

This year we invited together writers from Puli for a "Puli Writers Publication Year," to discuss the special features of our home of Puli from the angles of history, popular customs, way of life, environmental protection, and so on. Ten books will be published, including my A History of the Development of puli. Next year we will have traditional handicrafts and production as the themes.

I hope that this kind of thing won't be done only in Puli. Other rural areas and small towns can do the same. Wouldn't this preserve Taiwan's native history and literature? And isn't it true that these aren't just the lifeblood of the rural areas?

(Hsieh Shu-fen/tr. by Phil Newell)

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Why don't I dare to be the "fool"?

Literary Reporter: Liao Chia-chan

Two years ago I moved to Puli, to study the mountain aborigines; it was a relatively easy place to get to.

In the last two years I have seen a lot of outsiders attracted to the Puli area by its special environment. Everyone says this is a good thing, but I have my doubts and worries. Of what benefit are these people to Puli? If after coming here those artists just want to buy a piece of land halfway up the mountain and set up a studio but don't have anything to do with the local people, then what good are they to this place?

In fact, we are even now beginning to see the side-effects. After outsiders began to compete to get in here, they brought with them the evil habit of speculating in real estate. Land prices rose with speculative manipulation, which might on the surface appear to increase the wealth of the people of Puli. But in fact it just adds to their burdens. In the past a house cost NT$1 million, and everyone could afford one. But now a house costs at least four or five million, and the ordinary local person is hard pressed to accept that burden.

Even more frightening are those people who come here to exploit Puli's natural resources. Take for example the rocks in Puli's streams. After the stone from Mei Stream became famous, I often saw huge trucks full of stone driving by.

Looking at things from the point of view of Taiwan's small towns and rural communities, Puli is not only the geographic center, it is also the last piece of unadulterated land in the western part of Taiwan. Its natural beauty, humanism, and conditions of production are unmatched. If Puli has no hope, then Taiwan will have a hard time finding any place with hope.

When Puli no longer has any fine stone or beautiful natural scenery, and the streams and waters have all been polluted, where will you go to look for these things?

If you go up any further, then you're on the spine of Taiwan, the Central Mountain Range.

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Don't let the last piece of unspoiled land in western Taiwan disappear.

(photo by Yen Hsin-chu)

Don't let the last piece of unspoiled land in western Taiwan disappear. （photo by Yen Hsin-chu）