My father Fu Baoshi

Author: Fu Yiyao
Publisher:
Publishing Date: August 1, 2006
Features: My grandfather's name was Fu Degui (real name Wenyi, styled Juhé). He always made umbrellas to make a living and was a destitute family in Nanchang. When my father was about eight or nine years old, my grandfather passed away. When my grandfather lived in the countryside, he got into a fight with the son of a landlord and was beaten with a pitchfork on his back, resulting in lung damage. He had no choice but to move to Nanchang City to seek a living and treatment. In the city, my grandfather met his benefactor. The benefactor was He Litang, who made a living by repairing umbrellas and took my grandfather as an apprentice. My grandfather was very capable and could make (floral hairpins), earrings, and learned to repair Western umbrellas. At that time, local umbrellas were paper umbrellas, while Western umbrellas were imported cloth umbrellas. After He Litang passed away, he left his stall to my grandfather, who then started a small business named "Fu Degui Umbrella Repair Shop."
My grandmother's surname was Xu, originally from Xinjian County, Jiangxi. She was originally a maid in a wealthy family. It is said that because the master fell in love with her, the mistress flew into a rage and decided to marry her out, asking for no bride price but only to find someone poor, which led her to marry my grandfather. At that time, my grandfather was already in his thirties and more than ten years older than my grandmother. My grandmother was a capable woman with an open and generous personality, treating others with a masculine demeanor. She had considerable authority in the street where they lived, and neighbors would come to her to settle disputes and seek justice.
My grandfather's ancestors had only a single heir, so he named my father Changsheng (meaning "long life"). When my father was young and had measles, my grandfather was terrified, fearing that my father would scratch his face and cause it to scar. At that moment, my newly married sister returned home, and her husband asked my grandfather what he could do to stop my father from scratching his face. My father said he wanted a copy of the Kangxi Dictionary, so his brother-in-law went and bought one to satisfy him. My father clung to this Kangxi Dictionary and held it motionless. Finally, he managed to survive.
My father's face was quite handsome, and Mei Lanfang later jokingly told him, "You would be a great actress in the role of a flower girl." My grandfather's family lived in the impoverished shantytown area of "Qiaotai Houqiang" in Nanchang, where barbers, foot reflexologists, and various stalls lived together, struggling to survive. To the left of "Fu Degui Umbrella Repair Shop" was a calligraphy shop, and to the right was a painting restoration shop. The painting restoration shop's wall was hung with many calligraphy and paintings. My father often visited, and over time, he developed a strong interest in them.
Around the age of seven or eight, my father attended a private school and learned many characters. Later, my grandmother sent him to work as an apprentice in a porcelain shop. As an apprentice for three years, he not only had to take care of the shop owner's children but also had to carry and place the door panels every day. The door panels were made of camphor wood, a specialty of Jiangxi, and were very heavy. There were twelve panels on each side, requiring him to lift them fifty-four times a day. My father, being too young and weak, would strain his back to lift them. Over time, this led to a slight hunchback, with one shoulder higher than the other.
When my mother and father got married, some guests asked, "Why is your new fiancé a cloth seller?" At that time, cloth sellers were those who carried cloth around the streets all day, with one shoulder higher than the other. Every time I saw my father hunched over a round table painting, I felt that his entire life of hardship was reflected in that posture.
At the age of thirteen, my father entered the affiliated primary school of the Jiangxi Provincial Normal School. The school teacher gave him the formal name Fu Ruilin. At the age of seventeen, my father graduated from primary school with excellent grades and was recommended to attend the Normal School. However, attending school required paying a certain amount of security deposit. With no other option, he thought of the small plot of land inherited from his ancestors in the countryside. So, my father walked from Nanchang to his hometown, over three hundred miles away, to borrow money. However, his cousin, who lived next door, refused to let him in, saying, "What's the point of educating poor children? Even a meal won't be given to you." In the end, his sister-in-law gave him two sweet potatoes. From then on, my father was determined to study hard.
My father's childhood was truly hard. Even after starting school, he had no clothes to wear. In winter, he would wear his sister's and mother's floral robes inside and put on a gray cotton robe outside. Later, when I studied in Japan, I learned that the Japanese imperial family had a tradition: when the emperor married a daughter or a son-in-law, he would wear extremely luxurious clothes, with a total of twelve layers from the inside out. At that time, I thought to myself, wasn't my father wearing a "twelve-layer" outfit back then? Therefore, my father often told us, "If you don't know the meaning of 'hunger' and 'cold,' you won't truly become an adult."
Since childhood, my father loved carving seals. He would place stones on his legs and carve them with a knife, often leaving bloodstains on his body. Many people mentioned that my father's name, Fu Baoshi, was inspired by his admiration for Shitao and Qu Yuan's "Holding Stones and Embracing Sand." In my opinion, the original reason for my father choosing the name "Baoshi" was more about his love for carving seals and stones.
My father wrote a book in his early years called Moyin Xue (The Art of Seal Carving), written in beautiful small regular script. His principal had taken him and the book to meet Xu Beihong. Xu Beihong was already a renowned figure in society at that time. After reading the book, he was greatly impressed and treated my father with special attention. At that time, France was holding an exhibition in Nanchang, and my father helped with some tasks. He was diligent and even did small tasks like wrapping packages very well. The person in charge of the exhibition was very impressed by my father and said he could help him study in France. However, Xu Beihong told my father, "If you go to France, your skills won't improve; you'll even lose them. It's better to go to Japan, as Japanese culture is an extension of Chinese culture." Xu Beihong wrote a letter to the then Governor of Jiangxi Province, Xiong Shihui. At first, Xiong Shihui said, "Now that the country is in crisis, why study art?" The secretary of Xiong Shihui was a friend of my father's principal. He later told my father that Xu Beihong was extraordinary and had been writing letters to Xiong Shihui, offering to support him financially if there were any difficulties. The secretary slipped Xu Beihong's letter into Xiong Shihui's memorandum and submitted it. Later, Xiong Shihui finally approved my father's study abroad, saying, "Since Jingdezhen in Jiangxi produces ceramics, why not study craftsmanship in Japan?" So, my father initially went to Japan to study ceramic patterns.
My father and mother grew up in completely different family environments. My mother's name was Luo Shihui, and she was nicknamed Fenggu because she was born in Fengtian (now Shenyang). She was the daughter of a wealthy family, and her father's name was Luo Hongbin, styled Qiufu, a former Qing dynasty graduate who had donated money to become an official and served as the head of the Jiangxi Taxation Bureau and the president of the Jiangxi Court. My mother had a maidservant who accompanied her since she was a child. My maternal grandfather had four wives, and although my mother was not the legitimate daughter, the mistress had no children, so my maternal grandfather was very fond of her and did not make her do any chores, focusing instead on educating her. My maternal grandmother's name was Li Weiping. She was sold to the Luo family as a maid when she was four years old. At that time, if a girl wanted to marry into a well-to-do family later, she had to have her feet bound. My maternal grandmother still had natural feet at the age of seven and could no longer have her feet bound, but she bound them herself anyway. By the age of eleven or twelve, my maternal grandmother began learning to read while cooking in the kitchen, and later she could read classics and newspapers.
When my mother grew up, her family had a high reputation, and many people came to propose to her, including one who later fled to Taiwan and became a "Minister." My maternal grandfather, not knowing much about his background, refused the proposal. Regarding marriage, my maternal grandmother told my mother, "Absolutely do not marry into a wealthy family. It's better to eat cassava in a poor family than to drink soup in a rich one." Eating cassava meant suffering together, and that kind of equal happiness was true happiness. Drinking soup might be better than eating cassava, but the pain of inequality was much deeper.
When my mother was in high school, she joined the "CY" (Communist Youth League) and was elected as a member of the Jiangxi Provincial Student Federation. She cut her hair short and joined the revolution with Fang Zhimin. When the Northern Expedition Army arrived in Nanchang, my mother took the daughter of the president of the Women's Association, Cai Chang, around to perform and promote the revolution, meeting Guo Moruo, who was then the deputy director of the Political Department of the Northern Expedition Army, earlier than my father. After Jiang Jieshi betrayed the revolution, my mother was persuaded to return to Nanchang Women's High School to study and engage in underground publicity work. According to the clan rules of the Luo family, if a girl did not follow the rules of chastity and ran away, she would be executed if caught. My mother was sixteen at the time, and although she did not run away, she left home and "mingled" with men and women, which was also an unforgivable sin. However, due to my maternal grandmother's pleading, and because my maternal grandfather had only gotten his daughter at the age of forty-seven and had always spoiled her, plus the trend of the times, he pretended to scold her and let her wear a fake braid and continue her studies.
My mother was my father's student. She was very mischievous at school, and my father might have liked her personality. He often went to her house to tell stories to my uncle and help with homework to please her. My father's family was poor, and it was very difficult for him to marry my mother, especially my maternal grandfather's third wife, who was very difficult to deal with. My father bought a lot of cloth for her, and she lived with us later. Additionally, my father borrowed a savings book with one thousand taels of silver and showed it to my maternal grandfather. Although my maternal grandfather had always had a good impression of my father, he was still worried about his poverty. Seeing my father's savings book, along with my maternal grandmother's encouragement, he finally agreed to the marriage. My maternal grandfather specially told my father, "My daughter is nothing but a person; she knows nothing else. You must take care of her for life." My father kept his promise and took care of my mother throughout his life; if it weren't for the war and moving to Chongqing, my mother might not even know how to cook. Later, although my mother managed the household, there were two things my father always helped her with: folding beds and massaging her back. My mother always said my father massaged her back very well, like a small hammer, with just the right amount of force. My mother often had headaches and took medicine, but my father was afraid she would take too much, so he gave her medicine at fixed times and in fixed doses.
My mother originally knew nothing about cooking, but later, all of my father's meals were arranged by her. Even when there was a nanny in the house, my mother would personally cook for my father. My father had simple tastes but high standards and loved my mother's stir-fried (pork intestines) and three-cup chicken. My father said my mother's stir-fried was as red and shiny as jujubes, tight and round. Three-cup chicken was a traditional dish from Jiangxi, where a cup of wine, a cup of soy sauce, and a cup of sesame oil were added to the chicken.
My father spent most of his life away from home, and the total time he was away was less than five years, yet he had a whole box of letters. My mother was not beautiful, but she was very lovable, especially her humor and wit, which were liked by everyone. Her nose was very large, and in Jiangxi dialect, it was said, "A large nose, a kind heart." A fortune-teller once told my mother that her nose was a sign of good fortune: if she married a bald man, she would grow hair; if she married a poor man, she would become wealthy. Whenever she argued with my father, she would hit her nose and say, "Hit the nose, hit the nose," meaning she didn't want my father to have good luck. Her optimism was mainly due to her being spoiled by my maternal grandfather since childhood.
On August 8, 1931, Xu Beihong stayed in Nanchang for a short time, and my father went to visit him at Jiangxi Grand Hotel after being introduced by friends. The next day, Xu Beihong returned to visit my parents' home and《》 (Ducks Playing in the Water) as a gift. The painting featured a large white goose with a touch of vermilion on its head, stretching its neck towards the sky, with a few strands of green grass under its red feet. My father pinned it on the middle scroll and sent Xu Beihong back to the hotel. While waiting for my father to return, my mother spread paper and ground ink and copied the painting. She was still in the middle of her work when she added another large goose egg to the green grass the next morning. The next morning, reporters rushed into the house. They hadn't brought cameras the day before, so they hurried to take photos of the painting. My mother showed her copy to the reporters, and one exclaimed, "I didn't see a goose egg yesterday, but today there's one! Amazing!" My mother smiled and said, "Zhang Sengyou painted dragons with a touch of the divine and left through the wall; Master Xu's divine hand painted geese, and yesterday they had eggs inside. Overnight, they naturally hatched." The reporters were greatly impressed by my mother's skillful imitation and her humor.
Such incidents were not rare. One day, my father returned home and was told by a servant that a Mr. Wang had been waiting for him for a long time. When my father went over, he saw a man wearing a melon-seed hat and a small mustache. My father asked, "Who are you?" The man said, "I've known you for a long time. How don't you recognize me?" My father stood there, unable to remember. The man then burst into laughter and revealed it was my mother in disguise. My mother's reputation for humor was so well-known that many art dealers and antique dealers said that Fu Baoshi's wife was the best among all painter's wives. They were often happier to see her than to see my father.
My father had a personal rule: if he wasn't traveling, he would always celebrate my mother's birthday, buy gifts for her, and paint a picture for her, but he never celebrated his own birthday. My father passed away in late September 1965. That summer, he was on a business trip to Hunan, and at that time, his blood pressure was extremely high. A student who accompanied him wrote to my mother, saying that at dinner, my father drank a lot of wine. Even though it was late, he said he had to do something that night because it was my mother's birthday, and he wanted to paint her a picture—a beautiful folding fan. My father never let my mother go hungry, and he was very concerned about her emotional changes, whether she was happy or not. My mother was the most important person in my father's heart. Whenever he went out, he started writing letters to her. While studying in Japan, he wrote almost every other day, detailing everything, from the placement of furniture in his new home to the seating arrangements at his gatherings with friends. Later, during his two-thousand-three-hundred-li journey with Jiangsu painters for sketching, he wrote every day or every other day. Among the young painters who went with him was a newly married man who wrote only a dozen letters, while my father wrote thirty or forty, making the others sigh in admiration.
Whether traveling or studying abroad, my father always carefully selected clothes for my mother and bought them exclusively for her. In a Romanian department store, he chose a coat for my mother, even finding a saleswoman with a figure similar to hers to try it on repeatedly before buying it.
My parents had a very good relationship, as if they had endless things to talk about. I remember my father lived upstairs and my mother lived downstairs. Often at night, my mother would bring a cup of tea up to my father to help him sleep. After a while, my father would bring my mother downstairs, but as they talked, my mother would unconsciously send him back up. They often did this, going up and down the stairs, and we would watch and laugh.
My second sister wrote an article about the details of her parents' life, saying that in the summer in Nanjing, it was especially hot and humid. The whole family would sit in the courtyard to cool off. My mother often wore a set of half-new black silk clothes and slept on a small bamboo bed. My father sat beside her, holding a fan, and they talked while my father massaged my mother's waist, often until she fell asleep. My mother had a bad back from giving birth to my second sister, and for as long as my second sister was, my father massaged her back.
Twenty years after my father's passing, my mother wrote a moving article about his sense of family responsibility. She said, "In the family, he cared for his elderly mother and his children without fail, sometimes even to the point of being overly attentive. Even if he was away for only three days, he would write back twice. Sometimes, even after he had arrived home, he would ask, 'Did you receive any letters today?' I said no. But he was sure, 'Letters are slow; they must be on the way. Don't doubt it; the postman will be here soon.' It made me both angry and amused. In his entire life, he was away for less than five years, yet he had a whole box of letters."
Wine gave my father spiritual refreshment. My father's entire life was intertwined with two "three waters": one was "wine," and the other was "sweat." Wine gave my father spiritual refreshment, while sweat gave him physical refreshment. It was well-known that my father always held a wine cup when painting, but it was something I often saw as a child that my father always sweated profusely while painting. In the summer, while painting in his studio, he often wore a white cotton short jacket, which stuck to his body when wet, with a dry towel tied to his shoulder to wipe the sweat. My father's brushwork was extremely fast, and he often sweated so much that sweat dripped from his forehead and flowed down his body. My sister recalled that my mother often placed two large towels under his arms to catch the sweat and had to change them frequently, otherwise they would be soaked through quickly. Guo Moruo once wrote an article about visiting the "Jin Gang Po Xia Zhai" in Chongqing, saying that the summer in Chongqing was both hot and humid. Ice cream was not an option because it was unhygienic and could cause diarrhea. Everyone didn't know how to endure the summer in Chongqing, except for Baoshi, who sweated profusely—he used sweat to cool himself.
My father was always striving. His childhood poverty left him with a weak physical foundation, and his relentless studying and working in adulthood exhausted his body. My father was also very fond of wine. During the war, my family fled to the suburbs of Chongqing, Jin Gang Po, where the situation was unstable and his mind was troubled. He used wine to console himself, and over time, it became a habit. In his own words, "This habit has grown deeper. Whenever I am busy, excited, or tense, I cannot do without it. Especially when holding a brush in my hand, holding a glass in my left hand, and only then can I put the paper down with my right." The story of my father being invited to paint a large landscape painting titled "The Beauty of the Mountains and Rivers" for the Great Hall of the People in Beijing in 1959, and Zhou Enlai specially approving two large boxes of Moutai for him, is well-known.
The story of my father painting while drunk was often told and laughed about. He even carved an inscription "Often Drunk" and sealed it on his masterpieces. Many people therefore believed that my father relied on wine to paint. But I don't think so. The greatest ability my father had after drinking was to use a "golden cicada shedding skin" strategy. Once my father picked up a brush to paint, he would discover that his entire enthusiasm, way of thinking, spiritual state, and even his sense of enjoyment and intoxication were completely different from his usual self. I felt that at that moment, my father was truly shedding his "golden cicada skin." Especially in the early years of liberation, with frequent political movements like "three anti-five anti" and "anti-rightist," the external pressure on my father was great. He would escape all worldly troubles and drift in the world of art, wandering among mountains and rivers.
I often felt that it was a blessing from heaven that my father did not experience the Cultural Revolution. Otherwise, he would have been freed from it his whole life.
I had a special affection for my father's female figures. This was because the year my mother gave birth to me, my father painted a large female figure painting titled Shan Gui (Mountain Spirit). The painting depicted a fierce yet captivating woman, wandering atop the peaks of the Wu Mountains, surrounded by tigers and leopards. Everyone who saw the painting was enveloped by its spiritual aura. After finishing the painting, my father himself couldn't help but exclaim, "It seems there really are ghosts." Every time I looked at this Shan Gui, I felt that the woman was telling me something, as if inviting me to come, making me feel uneasy.
The spirit and elegance were the highest or most accurate evaluation of beauty in Chinese culture. The eyes of all the beautiful women in my father's paintings, like Xiang Jun (Lord of the Xiang River), Xiang Fu (Lady of the Xiang River), and Reading Figure, were all ethereal.
When discussing the beauty of Chinese women, there are three standards: "spirit," "elegance," and "wisdom." What is "spirit"? It means being able to connect with many things, including the mysterious feelings of music, aesthetics, and the power of nature, possessing enough insight. What is "elegance"? It is like music, with various forms of change, reacting differently depending on what it encounters. Then there is "wisdom," which is actually the intelligence Chinese people admire in women. They love women who are pure yet clever, not cunning, showing intelligence. When a woman is spiritual, elegant, and wise, she will give rise to many things, such as decisiveness and the ability to consider the bigger picture. Therefore, my father never judged whether someone was beautiful or not, but discussed it from the perspective of spirit, elegance, and wisdom.