One day, in a restaurant on Soho's south side, a group of Chinese artists from Taiwan were chatting. Though many were there, still Hsia Yang had yet to come. One person suggested giving him a call, but another just said, "Forget it. He's undoubtedly just strolling slowly through Soho, hand in hand with his wife."

At that moment, the restaurant door opened, and in walked Hsia Yang, umbrella in one hand, his wife's hand in the other. The two seemed carefree, and entered unhurriedly.

A quick look revealed a man of average build, sporting blue jeans and suspenders, a slight paunch showing, a head covered with matching white hair and beard, and tortoise shell glasses. This was Hsia Yang, who thirty years before had been a modern art pioneer in Taiwan's "Oriental Art Association," one of that era's eight leading figures in the field.

Going to Hsia's studio, it can be found that, while many other artists have modernized their former warehouses in keeping with Soho's development, Hsia has preferred to keep the Bohemian style.

To get to the studio one climbs-- carefully--an old and winding staircase. On the left suddenly appear door gods; this is indeed the "house" of a Chinese artist. Opening the door, one is confronted with a narrow foyer piled with paintings. Progressing three or four steps, the hall opens out into the long, rectangular, high-ceilinged warehouse/studio.

In a glance one sees bookshelves, canvases, tools, paints, a rice cooker, bowls and dishes, a gas oven, an adjustable artist's chair, and drying clothes hanging from a bamboo pole. The walls and ceiling are covered with farcical poems, and there is also some incongruous ancient style furniture.

Wu Shuang-hsi--Mrs. Hsia--poured tea and extended an invitation to sit, which drew a laugh from her husband, for finding a place to sit down is not easy. As someone had once described some of the first Chinese artists in Soho, "the studios seemed like junkyards, and nobody could tell tools from materials from finished works. . . ."

Finally, following Mrs. Hsia's directions, we found a place to sit and talk.

Born in 1932 in Nanking, Hsia came to Taiwan as a wandering student, and studied painting under Lee Chung-sheng. Later he became a member of the Oriental Art Association. In 1963 he went to Paris, and to New York in 1968.

"I moved to Soho in 1971. When I came here, rent was just tens of dollars a month, but you had to get an artist's ID from the government. Now prices have risen dramatically; I have heard it now costs two or three thousand!"

Soho had another prosperous era in the nineteenth century, as the artful railings and gratings that adorn today's now protected structures can attest. But after WWI, wealthy people moved to the suburbs, and Soho became a warehouse and factory district.

In the fifties, the by then empty-- but cheap and well-lighted--buildings attracted artists. Since it was technically illegal for people to live in the warehouses, contracts were made illegally. In the 1960's the law finally came to recognize the reality, and about 3000 artists formally moved to Soho, which became a protected district.

The first gallery--Paula Cooper--opened here in 1968. Two others quickly moved in, including the famous promoters of Neorealism, the O.K. Harris Works of Art. In 1974, Hsia Yang became the first Chinese to show in that gallery with an exhibit of Photo Realist painting. Throughout the 70's, new galleries appeared at a rapid rate.

While some of his friends think Hsia more suited by temperament and style to Paris, he admits that in coming to New York and getting into photo realism he was following a trend. Hsia says that his generation could not help but be influenced by world trends, and that they "naturally thought to pursue new things." But Hsia is by no means the kind of artist who claims to thoroughly understand everything before painting. He feels there is no alternative to painting earnestly and progressing step by step, before one can achieve understanding, balance, and self-satisfaction.

Before, he says, everybody talked too much. "Traditional" vs. "Modern," East vs. West. But since "relying on one's mouth cannot produce paintings, and however impassioned the debate, if it doesn't produce paintings, then it is useless!"

Hsia believes that people need their eyes for art, their ears for music, and their hands for writing, but that the training of the eyes has been underdeveloped for Chinese. If one studies Western things one is seen as disdaining one's own culture. But if the eyes get no training, then how can one distinguish good from bad?

Hsia suggests that art galleries and museums collect more Western art, or at least fine replicas, to help develop critical skills.

In his own studio Hsia strictly follows his own philosophy, painting diligently, one painting a year, of high quality. As for heated debates on art, that is for the young. "With too much talk, one can't help but unconsciously promote oneself and put down others." And Hsia wants to avoid the possible error of "the pot calling the kettle black." He thinks that every type of effort deserves respect.

After nearly twenty years in New York, Hsia is still as before leisurely and unhurried, at peace with the world. Painting for leisure, Hsia still does refurbishing of antique furniture, which he did in Paris to support himself. This, and the walls of farcical poems, perhaps sketch out the broad lines of his lifestyle.

One of the poems says, roughly, "The wife is not home/Just can't sit still/Everything seems uninteresting/A fool spouse is the most fun."

However, Hsia's "fool spouse" also happens to be a Ph.D. in Philosophy, a degree earned in Paris. Still, as the art critic Hsieh Lee-fa, who knew her in those years, has described her, she has only two ways of speaking: One is the formal language of academia and theory; the other is like that of a small girl less than ten years of age. Aside from this, she has no common speech from the adult world. The description is apt. It is only upon leaving that it is discovered that the pile of paintings by the door are hers, not his.

Finally, one looks back at the long studio, and at the smiling husband and wife who are standing in the foyer to send off their guest. No one will deny that the most beautiful work to be found there is this "fool couple."

[Picture Caption]

The leader of the "Eight Forerunners"--Hsia Yang--thirty years later.

An ordinary street; an ordinary wall. But in Soho, the artists can evoke many different images.

A recent Hsia Yang work: "Walker" (1986).

Hsia Yang, "The Junk Dealer"(1980).

"Painting is not something you do with your mouth. Produce something and then we'll decide." This is what Hsia Yang has to say.

An ordinary street; an ordinary wall. But in Soho, the artists can evoke many different images.

A recent Hsia Yang work: "Walker" （1986）.

Hsia Yang, "The Junk Dealer"（1980）.

"Painting is not something you do with your mouth. Produce something and then we'll decide." This is what Hsia Yang has to say.