Watercolors lift a curtain on life struggles of migrant workers
Liu Xiangdong, 52, had been an interior and graphic designer for a dozen years in Shenzhen, Guangdong province, before he shifted to painting watercolors after 2004.
He thus spent a lot of time with interior decoration and renovation teams, which consisted of migrant workers from the rural area.
He observed how they worked, talked and socialized. And he was touched by their facial expressions that revealed a humble social rank and meanwhile, self-esteem and emotional changes.
Neighboring Hong Kong, Shenzhen became China’s first special economic zone in 1980. And it has transformed into a metropolis inhabited by migrants of different walks of life and from across the country.
“In various inconspicuous corners of the city, migrants work at the bottom, struggling for a better living. How do they make peace with the state of being ignored? Their existence is a social phenomenon no one should overlook,” Liu says.
Last year, he painted a series of watercolors on canvas, titled Wall, the centerpieces of his first exhibition now on at the Beijing Fine Art Academy’s gallery.
In the paintings, workers are supported by ropes and a crude wooden board before a wall; and they whitewash it, cover it with paint, or smooth its surface — a common scene at new homes and buildings.
He painted the workers in gray, while in comparison, the walls are in vibrant colors that remind viewers of eye-catching neon lights on the street.
“The series feel like a collection of urban-life fables. Underlying his calm strokes, Liu embraces a pity for the underclass, their pains and impotence,” comments Shang Hui, executive editor of Fine Arts magazine.
“They bring the audience fresh visual experiences, unlike the subjects of fashionable urban landscape and well-off men and women, which people have seen too much.”
Liu says as migrants keep flooding into developed cities, they have stimulated his desire to paint. He now divides time between Shenzhen, where he teaches design at a professional school, and Beijing, where he can focus on watercolor in his studio.
His current exhibition, titled Existence, shows landscapes and still lifes. The bulk are portraits of ordinary people Liu encounters in daily life: his colleagues at the school, factory girls, old men who move to join their children in Shenzhen, ethnic groups and foreigners.
His works offer a self-possessed, insightful glimpse into the mental being of the figures: intellectuals whose emotionless faces can’t conceal their anxieties, youths whose eyes sparkle with confidence while revealing a sagging spirit, and migrant workers who often slightly open their mouths, indicating the huge pressure to survive in a material world.
Zhu Di, director of the watercolor art council under the China Artists Association, says although there is an understated sense of humor in these unimportant figures Liu portrays, their dignity of living is forcefully presented, urging the audience to take them seriously.
Liu’s concerns for the city migrants arise from the hardships of his own early years.
Born in Hengyang of central Hunan province, he spent much of his childhood in the countryside where his father was transferred to do farm work during the “cultural revolution (1966-76)”.
He remembers helping to transplant rice seedlings at the age of 5 and there were leeches on his legs after leaving the rice field.
After his family relocated to a Hengyang suburb, he had to walk a long way to school in the city center. He has loved painting since childhood. And he often practiced sketching after school and would not return home until 10 pm.
“I had to cross a hilly cemetery. It was terrifying at night. When it rained heavily, there would be a lot of dirt and mud all over my legs when I arrived home,” says Liu, adding that he feels “total” empathy for today’s young students who come from an underprivileged background.
“Although there was not a huge gap between the urban and rural areas, still I could feel an unutterable sense of superiority displayed by urbanites. And I felt weak and unconfident for being from the countryside.”
It was not until Liu was enrolled in a university and studied painting in 1981 that he and his family began to feel respected.
Liu says he designed not only because he became interested in it at university, but also out of a strong wish to improve the living environment that was due to the humble condition of his family.
He says, however, it is in painting that he can return to his roots as a boy who loved painting for the sake of it.
Liu embraces a pity for the underclass, their pains and impotence.” Shang Hui, executive editor of Fine Arts magazine