An artist who has been abroad for 30 years endures the hardships of the long journey back to Taiwan from America, hurrying back not for an exhibition of his own work but rather to plan "An Exhibit of Documents Concerning the Early Art Movement in Taiwan." It can't help but prick your curiosity.

"When I was 20, I went abroad to study in Paris," Shaih Li-fa recalls. "Everything I saw, I liked, and I said to myself: When I return to Taiwan I want to do stuff like this. But now look how old I am, and I still haven't done anything. After 20 or 30 years, it's time to act on my ideals."

Who knows history? As early as 15 years ago, Shaih Li-fa did something revealing great foresight. He wrote the first history of Taiwan art: The History of Taiwanese Art During the Japanese Era. "I started from scratch," he says, recalling the strains of trail blazing. At a time when everyone in Taiwan was busy doing their best to "modernize," Shaih, living in America, was hard at work on a book about the old Taiwanese artists of the Japanese era. One can only imagine the difficulties and ignorance he had to overcome.

Today, when these old painters have skyrocketed to fame, Shaih's publisher is grabbing the chance to release a new edition of the book, which had been out of print for nearly 10 years. The people he wrote of have become the darlings of the auction block--something that Shaih never contemplated in his wildest speculations at the time. But while he is happy that certain artists have achieved the recognition they deserve, from an historical point of view he doubts how many people really understand the environment that molded that older generation of painters. "While everyone is going all out to collect the work of the old painters, people ought to try to understand the background of life at that time," Shaih says. "Their work only has meaning if placed in the context of its era." This was his original conception for planning this exhibition of documents--to bring back the face of life of that age, letting such primary sources as photographs, books, letters and newspapers tell their stories. . . .

Some of the documents in this exhibit are those Shaih Li-fa used for the research on his book many years ago; others were provided by the old painters themselves or their descendants. From the photographs of the painters as vigorous young men, the correspondence between them and their Japanese teachers, their wooden painting boxes and palettes, etc., you can sketch out the painters' thoughts at the time and the courses of their development.

Let future generations build a museum for them: The most special and hard to obtain objects being exhibited are the rough preliminary sketches the artists made at the time. They are best able to show the tracks of the artists' thoughts. But because most artists are only willing to exhibit completed works, these rough sketches are very difficult to obtain.

The abundant selection of art magazines at the time may surprise people the most. In an age of material want, it is moving to see how art education flourished. Shaih points out that the art magazines of the day included Eastern Fine Arts, Fine Arts Report, Fine Arts of the Nation, Central Art Arena, The Pagoda's Shadow, Taiwan Art. . . no fewer than 30 journals in all.

From the carefully constructed posters and programs and the regular newspaper feature, "A Pilgrimage to the Galleries," in which reporters introduced the art of the day, one can tell that exhibits were given as much importance then as they are today.

A plain-looking sheet with a "Taichan" or "Tichan" on it, signifying that the recipient had won one of two annual prizes given in Taiwan and Japan, was the greatest honor an artist of the day could obtain. Such recognition was tantamount to guaranteeing an artist's high status. Shaih believes that these documents and materials should be professionally organized and properly preserved. "Building a Museum for Taiwanese Artistic Historical Materials would be more meaningful than artists establishing their own memorial museums or galleries," he says. "If the old painters take care to preserve their own materials, the work of building a museum can be left to future generations--there's no hurry."

A burden that can't be put down: For many years, Shaih has been a walking Taiwanese art history book. No matter where he has been living, he has continued unabated to write art criticism. Familiar with his specialized books, art criticism and theory, people from his homeland often forget he is a painter himself.

In 1964 he went to Paris to study art and in 1968 he moved to America, where he has lived ever since. Although Shaih has been abroad, both his art theory and criticism have been frequently seen in the domestic media, and he is not an unfamiliar figure in the art scene here. Besides his writings on art theory, his own oil paintings in 1989 and 1990 came back for two shows, "A Tree on a Mountain" and "A Series of Cows."

Recently, Shaih has begun to paint Taipei. In fact, he made a plan to do so when he came back home for the first time three years ago after having been away for 24 years. "Taipei artists don't like to paint Taipei, believing that it's too dirty, too messy, too unpaintable," he says. He feels that besides being the city where he was born and bred, Taipei also reflects the special characteristics of the age. Hence, he wants to get the feelings he has about life here down on canvas. We'll have to wait and see.

Speaking of how his generation differs from the elder generation, Shaih points out that the older Taiwan painters had to learn indirectly from Japan, where the styles were very limited. His generation, the first after the war, could go directly to Europe or America for study, but they all carried a burden. "Where you live before you are 20 deeply influences you." He struggled for many years to rid himself of it, but with no success, and so he decided he would just quit struggling.

Not only a bystander: There are those who describe the older generation of painters as having a secure position in art history as "first-borns" in contrast to the just-emerging younger generation of "spoiled youngest sons." As for those in between, who have lived abroad for years only to find that they could not exist in other people's history, they have become disconnected, out-of-favor middle sons without a place in history.

In an essay looking at Taiwanese Art as it approaches the year 2000, Shaih exclaims, "Twenty years ago I wrote about my elders. Now, twenty years later, I write about my juniors. My generation has quietly slipped by in these two decades. Has fate written that I serve only as an observer?"

But observers can sometimes see the clear way through a confusing situation. During the exhibition, Shaih saw how his own labors to write history had fueled galleries to inflate prices to dizzying heights and had bloated the egos of the old painters themselves. He was particularly hurt that few artists and intellectuals, contrary to his expectations, came to the exhibit even with great media coverage. After the show was over, he went to the top level of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum and ripped up the documents he had collected over the years. He vowed that he would write no more about the older generation of artists and would become again simply an artist himself.

As the shredded documents floated down to the main floor, did the people of his homeland under stand why the musketeer had given up his sword?

[Picture Caption]

Returning to the appearance of days past by letting the photos and manuscripts tell their stories is the idea behind Shaih's plan for the exhibit of documents from Taiwan's early art movements. (photo by Huang Li-li)

Liao Chi-tsun was a teacher at Changjung Junior High School.

In an era of material want, there were still 20 or 30 different art magazines.

From the exhibition programs, newspaper clippings and other historical items, you can begin to trace the outlines of the painters' lives at the time.

Liao Chi-tsun (left) and Chen Cheng-po (center) at the entrance to the Crimson Island Art Gallery.

In an era of material want, there were still 20 or 30 different art magazines.

Liao Chi-tsun was a teacher at Changjung Junior High School.

From the exhibition programs, newspaper clippings and other historical items, you can begin to trace the outlines of the painters' lives at the time.

Liao Chi-tsun （left） and Chen Cheng-po （center） at the entrance to the Crimson Island Art Gallery.