Without a long scholar's gown, without a beard, Feng-mien has the spirit of a learned prelate. The ninety superb works drew artists from three generations, coming like disciples to gaze upon the original versions of pieces long familiar through prints. And his smile, warmth, cordiality, and childlike straightforwardness left others feel at ease. When he's not smiling, it's not that his face is so weather-beaten as that it has depth.

Does it find its origins in a life of depth? Lin's life has been a flowing symphony--a refreshing prelude in childhood, a crescendo of stentorian discourses in middle years, a discontinuous elegy in old age, and, living in seclusion in Hong Kong after 78 years of age, melodiously crafted essays.

The prelude was played out amidst art and nature. Feng-mien's grandfather was a stone mason. In old age he sat endlessly at his door carving in stone slabs. Sometimes Feng-mien served as a little helper, and he pored over the traditional Chinese designs at grandpa's feet. Feng-mien's father Lin Yu-nung was a painting teacher, showing Feng-mien the basics of traditional Chinese painting at five. On this foundation was added the influence of Western art brought back by overseas Chinese from his clan; he gradually grew to like realist painting. He practiced tirelessly. Thus he brought together Chinese and Western art from an early age.

Besides art, little Feng-mien also loved to run barefoot through the outdoors, touching and coming to know every tree, stream, and rock. He says: "Although they couldn't talk, I felt I couldn't part from them; the feeling was very deep."

Lin uses landscape painting as a form of expression. His landscapes are painted with feeling. Although nature has given him much inspiration to create, he is not just an objective recorder of nature. Nor does he comprehend and refine the details of nature. Rather, he paints the things he wants to paint, the things he remembers from childhood. If he doesn't remember it, well then it's not worth worrying about.

"Go into Nature, be Nature's child." Lin Feng-mien followed this adage of da Vinci, and spent a lot of time deeply penetrating nature, looking at nature's every blade of grass, branch, fish, and bird with interest and emotion.

As a young man, Lin became deeply influenced by the May Fourth movement challenging Chinese traditions. He wrote a powerful essay defending Chinese art, but arguing that it had been isolated for too long, leading to a lack of innovation. He urged an exchange between Chinese and Western art. At twenty he joined a study group going to France organized by the famous educator Ts'ai Yuan-p'ei.

During six years of study in France, Lin abandoned Western naturalism and realism, and turned to the rich inheritance of Chinese tradition. He lived on cold, hard bread and spent his time wandering through museums of Asian art and porcelain. Like a bee, he flittered from flower to flower--carving, painting, porcelain--taking the best from each. Finally, he passed through the eclectic creative period. His works earned the regard of Ts'ai Yuan-p'ei, and Lin was invited to serve simultaneously as professor and president of the Peking National Academy of the Arts.

After returning to China, Lin lived an impassioned life, writing essays, speaking, running the school, and organizing cultural activities. His passion was devoted to the realization of his ideal of "social aesthetization." He started the Peking Arts Association, and spread the folowing slogans:

Down with art that mimics tradition!

Down with art for the noble elite alone!

Down with art that is separate from the masses!

Promote creative art that represents the era!

What kind of era was 1927?

It was a closed, conservative, feudal era. Lin Feng-mien, 28, thought to give the art that had belonged exclusively to the literati class to the whole people. He advocated the harmonization and unity of "artistic art" and "social art." The youthful Feng-mien passionately used art to participate in society. A Don Quixote, perhaps, but with great goals.

In 1949, Lin turned fifty. The time was one of vast change, and he followed quietly. At 59, he was down in the countryside planting vegetables--the hands of the artist were digging up fields. But worse was to come. When he was 65, his works were attacked by an establishment art journal as "incompatible with the feelings of the masses in the socialist era." When he was 67, the Cultural Revolution exploded. Red Guards came to confiscate his property. Apprehensive, he destroyed large numbers of his works over the next two years. When he was 69, his house was sealed, and he was detained by the Shanghai public security organs for a series of interrogations and criticisms. Incredibly, this "detention" lasted five years, when he was finally released. But in 1974, the "Gang of Four" launched a campaign to criticize "black art;" one of Lin's landscapes was seen to be overly dark (pessimistic), and, already 75, he was labelled a "black artist."

At that time artists "wanted to laugh but could not laugh, wanted to cry but could not cry." With phantom crimes, black turned into white, and criticisms grasping at shadows, how could a 70-plus year-old survive? Though he was not in prison, his spirit withered. Fortunately, in 1977, he received permission to visit family abroad, and began a long residence in Hong Kong.

At 80, Feng-mien went to Paris to hold an exhibition, where he was praised by a museum curator: "In the past more than half a century, among those artists who have worked to bring Chinese to understand Western painting and its techniques, Lin Feng-mien is second to none."

Lin Feng-mien, an emerald in the jewelry box of art. May he always glow!

[Picture Caption]

In a tight seven-day itinerary, the painting master never failed to have a smile, regardless of whether he was accepting a prize, visiting the National Palace Museum, or visiting with old friends or students.

Autumn, 1988; 152.0 by 83.2 cm.

A Small Painting, 1937; 39.2 by 40.0 cm.

Chang-fei (Chinese Opera), 1978; 69.0 by 69.5cm.

The Sea, 1953; 67.5 by 66.5cm.

(right) Autumn, 1982; 68.5 by 69.2cm.

Kuan-yin, the Goddess of Mercy, 1988; 40.5 by 49.5 cm.

Lady, 1945; 31.0 by 39.5cm.

The Palace Maids, 1978; 67.5 by 68.2 cm.

Egret, 1975; 69.0 by 69.0 cm.

Nightmare, 1989; 152.0 by 48.0 cm.

"Thanks for everyone's heartfelt support. See you again next time."

In a tight seven-day itinerary, the painting master never failed to have a smile, regardless of whether he was accepting a prize, visiting the National Palace Museum, or visiting with old friends or students.

In a tight seven-day itinerary, the painting master never failed to have a smile, regardless of whether he was accepting a prize, visiting the National Palace Museum, or visiting with old friends or students.

In a tight seven-day itinerary, the painting master never failed to have a smile, regardless of whether he was accepting a prize, visiting the National Palace Museum, or visiting with old friends or students.

In a tight seven-day itinerary, the painting master never failed to have a smile, regardless of whether he was accepting a prize, visiting the National Palace Museum, or visiting with old friends or students.

Autumn, 1988; 152.0 by 83.2 cm.

A Small Painting, 1937; 39.2 by 40.0 cm.

Chang-fei （Chinese Opera）, 1978; 69.0 by 69.5cm.

The Sea, 1953; 67.5 by 66.5cm.

（right） Autumn, 1982; 68.5 by 69.2cm.

Kuan-yin, the Goddess of Mercy, 1988; 40.5 by 49.5 cm.

Lady, 1945; 31.0 by 39.5cm.

The Palace Maids, 1978; 67.5 by 68.2 cm.

Egret, 1975; 69.0 by 69.0 cm.

Nightmare, 1989; 152.0 by 48.0 cm.

"Thanks for everyone's heartfelt support. See you again next time.".