The taste of poverty
Since Chu was a child, he has been a dreamer, and one brave enough to pursue his dreams. He grew up just after World War II, the eight people in his family crowded into a little bamboo house that his father had built on the outskirts of a military dependents' village. His father was a lower-level public servant bringing home only a little money, so his mother tried to boost their income and reduce expenditure as much as possible. As well as looking after six children, she collected vegetable leaves in the morning markets to feed their chickens and ducks, sold vegetables, and knitted sweaters to sell. Chu was the eldest in the family, a well-behaved child who did very well at school and took on his share of the household chores.
The foremost dream of his teenage years was to become a boy scout, but because the costs of uniforms and activities were beyond the family at that stage, he could only hide this dream in his heart. Later on he heard that the Taiwan Junior Chamber of Commerce was recruiting boy scouts from poor families. Those recruited could borrow everything they needed from the chamber, which also offered some paid work during the holidays. Chu jumped at the opportunity, and for the first time in his life was able to savor the sweetness of a dream come true.
During senior high school, Chu's talent in painting gradually came to the fore. He achieved excellent results both academically and in extracurricular activities. But while he did well at high school, he missed out by only one point on qualifying to study in the Fine Arts Department of National Taiwan Normal University, which would have provided him free tuition.
Despite the opposition of his teachers and parents, Chu insisted on pursuing his dream of painting. He chose to study fine arts and craft design at National Taiwan College of the Arts. With his habitual confidence in his abilities, he made a promise to his parents that if they could support him during the first semester, he would take full responsibility for the costs of his study after that. But arriving in the unfamiliar city of Taipei, and at a college where only the rich could afford to study, he realized and experienced to the full extent the truths of hardship and poverty.
A frustrated dream
After Chu had paid his college fees, he found he didn't have enough money left to pay for accommodation and food. He was able to find a job with a retired soldier making coal-dust briquettes (in the 1960s there was no gas, so briquettes were used as fuel). As payment, Chu got a place to live and one meal a day. Living in this dilapidated house where one could look up and see the sky, and a cold wind continually blew through cracks in the walls, Chu would lie on a bed made from bricks and bits of old wood. In this place, he sank deep into loneliness.
To earn money for his other two meals and the cost of art materials, besides making and delivering briquettes Chu washed and ironed clothes for his classmates, and worked occasionally as a tutor. During summer and winter holidays he worked as a laborer quarrying stones in the Tachia River, harvested asparagus on a farm, and worked in a mooncake bakery, to earn his tuition for the following semester.
In contrast with Chu's poor circumstances, most of his classmates were from well-to-do families, so they had plenty of spare time and freedom to do creative work and participate in the various clubs on campus. "I was really struggling," Chu says. In high school the students wore uniforms, so the difference between rich and poor wasn't so obvious, but university was very different. On campus, students dressed to outdo each other, while Chu always had to wear the military-style university uniform, and they were always going out listening to blues music or dancing. Chu, who was delivering briquettes every day and was always a bit grubby as a result, could see the enormous gulf that separated him from the seemingly unobtainable world of the rich kids.
Because of the demands of his part-time work, he had no time to take part in any of the clubs. It was also difficult to make friends with his well-off classmates, and every day he sat quietly through lectures. The stress of his dire financial situation and the demands of study exhausted him mentally and physically.
Because his diet was lacking in protein for a prolonged period, he developed serious anemia, so on top of the other problems of keeping his life together, Chu gradually succumbed to self-pity. He constantly felt faint and lacked concentration to an extent that became a serious disability. Nevertheless, his uncompromising, stubborn desire to succeed on his own resources prevented him from begging support from his family. Rather, he came up with some novel ideas of how he could support himself through his study. First, he caught frogs from nearby streams in the countryside to eat in order to keep up his protein intake. Then, he went to free psychology lessons held by the Tien Cultural Foundation. Hopefully he would be able to cure himself. And fortunately, the psychology lessons helped him to rebuild his confidence and become more positive: seeing poverty as something that eventually made one stronger, finally he pulled himself back on track.
A never-ending dream
After three years of hardship at college, because he cared so much for his family he promised himself that everything he earned before he turned 30 would go straight to them. After graduation, he taught fine arts in high school and was able to use this stable income to help his three brothers and sisters finish their university degrees. At the same time he did some design work on commercial buildings and residential projects to improve his skills.
After six years, Chu decided that his need to be involved in architecture greatly exceeded his desire to continue teaching. After working out that he had enough money to support his family for at least a year, he took the sad step of resigning from his teaching position. He got a low-level job with a firm of architects, resulting in a reduction in wages to around 10% of what he had been earning as a teacher. However, because of his outstanding performance, he was quickly promoted and finally became a manager. Then, giving up this well-paid job, he went to Japan to study garden landscaping, and to visit theme parks with an eye to design ideas. Coming back to Taiwan, he set up his own business, Idea Landscape Studio, with thoughts of creating a Chinese-style theme park. In 1979, he designed and supervised the construction of Taichung's Yako Park, today considered a classic design among Taiwan's parks.
In more than 20 years of work, Chu has continually pursued his dreams, overcoming all obstacles. After achieving a goal, he typically gives up all the rewards, and goes back to a new beginning, to the next dream.
When Wu Hua Tian Bao was completed, this man who already had a doctorate in landscape design from California International University went back to the basics, studying sculpture in Australia. This year, at 60 years of age, he has been able to make his biggest dream come true--creating his own sculptures to incorporate in his landscape designs.
Looking back at his life, Chu frankly admits that his attitude toward life has been too serious; he should have been more relaxed and more able to smile at the hardships life has presented him. His recent sculpture, Chains Linking Each Other, illustrates this point. Whether life is good or bad, whether one is poor or rich, unfortunate or lucky, at crucial turning points there are chains that bind life together--and one can always find a way forward. However, one needs to view such moments with understanding, otherwise the chains will be broken.
"View the events of your life from different perspectives; that's the way to enjoy a beautiful life." Chu's life of art is cause for reflection in all of us.