The sun peers through tinted windows, as the melody of birds chirping stirs you awake. No, this is not Snow White, it’s a scene from a Chinese painting. Atop this misty mountain lies your small cabin, endless streams, fairy waterfalls, blooming petals, and sky-tall trees. The moss-covered rocks shimmer under the sun’s glow. Overflowing streams of purity exist only for attainable peace. I used to live through that world, every weekend. For the past five years, I took Chinese painting classes every week, immersing myself in the world of water and paint.

Olivia Li in class

Chinese painting has various forms and types and is also closely tied in with Chinese calligraphy. When it comes to types of art, it is split into gōngbǐ (工笔) and xiěyì (写意). Gongbi paintings tend to be highly detailed and meticulous, often with long, smooth lines of flowers or birds. Xieyi, on the other hand, is much more abstract. Instead of going through every line and color, the painting will have broader shapes, and certain aspects of objects, such as mountains, will be exaggerated to a recognizable degree. There are two main forms for Chinese painting: Shānshuǐ (山水) and Huāniǎo huà (花鸟画). Shanshui paintings mainly involve drawing landscape sceneries. They will usually always contain mountains, trees, and a form of water. More advanced paintings also have misty clouds, giant waterfalls, villages, and one or two people. On the other hand, Huāniǎo huà focuses on animals and flora. Paintings of a specific flower will sometimes be accompanied by a cute bird or two, and it’s much more zoomed in on the main focus than landscape Shanshui. While it is still up to debate, I consider Rénwù (人物) as part of Huaniao. Renwu paintings mainly portray humans often in dynamic poses. They will be accompanied by decorations such as small animals or flora, and thus is considered as a part of Huaniao by some people. They can also stand alone as a new category because of the many characters to explore.

By Olivia Li

I initially approached Chinese painting as a kind of project to complete. My good friends had been painting for four years ahead of me, and their products looked amazing, thus compelling me to try it out too. Admittedly, the base level techniques and paintings were rather ugly and boorish, but it was those fundamental skills of how to draw the simple shapes and strokes that allowed me to evolve my art into what it is today. What’s more is that the message behind Chinese painting has inspired me to become more creative, and less hung up on perfection. Although the ideals may vary for Western art depending on the medium, the art form that I liked the most, realism, heavily emphasized having every detail down to touch and recreating the world we inhabit. On the other hand, Chinese painting focuses on understanding the spiritual meaning behind the painting and creating that same energy. I used to be hyper-fixated on making every detail perfect, blindly recreating what my teacher had drawn. Although I thought they looked pretty, I learned that the paintings felt lifeless because I could not understand the bigger concept behind it. It took some time to finally grasp how the twist of a tree could seem free, how a few dabs of water could let clouds float, and how to make a painting that had meaning in it. Soon, I was able to improvise more than before. An accidental drop on the canvas could be changed into some pine thorns. An additional stroke made the painting more vibrant. The small things that once bothered me, and drove me to desperate perfection, became more ways to improve myself.

Chinese painting used to make me feel small and imperfect, like the mistakes I made. However, after I took more time to understand the greater aesthetic behind it, that close link of acceptance of oneself and the natural world, I was able to obtain a better mindset not only when it comes to art, but also life. Some day I would love to travel into one of my paintings, living free, feeling good.

KEEP READING: Beijingkids Presents Selected Artworks From ISB IB Art Students

Images: Courtesy of Olivia Li

This article appeared in the beijingkids 2020 October issue

Living in Beijing while in a mixed cultural relationship has its challenges at times. What might be completely normal to your partner can be odd and strange to you. In the past few months, I’ve come across a whole different set of cultural difference that has driven me to the brink of insanity at times – the “aunties”.

First off, let me explain what an “auntie” is. Ayi isn’t just a word you call your housekeeper. It’s basically a generic term for an older woman and it means auntie. You don’t need to be related to them to call them aunties. Basically, any older Chinese woman is an auntie and for some reason, many of them will feel entitled to dish out life advice and criticism like it’s their full-time job, especially when it comes to your pregnancy and how you plan on raising your baby.

I’m Chinese-American and critical aunties aren’t even a new concept to me. I’ve just never experienced it to this extent until recently.

When it comes to pregnancy, there are a ton of local customs that the older generation accepted as norms and some will insist that they get passed down. Never mind that the last time they were pregnant was over 40 years ago and maybe, just maybe, things have changed a tad bit since then.

When I first started getting unsolicited auntie advice I’d still take the time to explain why I’d be doing things differently. But after eight months, I’ve resorted to just nodding along. In one ear and out the other as they say.

The Yuezi and Yuesao

Yuezi (月子) is the Chinese tradition of ‘sitting the month’. While medical professionals around the world all recommend new moms to take it easy right after giving birth, the old traditions include not brushing your teeth for a month, not showering or washing your hair for a month, not eating anything that’s heavily seasoned, not going outside the entire time, and following a very specific menu that’s supposed to help you recover.

A yuesao (月嫂) is a nanny whose sole purpose is to help take care of the new mom and baby during the first month. I’m not sure if this speaks to the impression of my capability as a soon-to-be mom, but when I’d tell any auntie that I had no intention of hiring a yuesao I would be met with shock and disbelief. “You can’t do it on your own” they’d tell me. Um, sorry, but yuesao is a concept that’s only become mainstream in China in recent decades. In the past, new couples would ask for the assistance of parents or (shocking…) take care of their own babies themselves. Women around the world have been taking care of their own babies for generations. Why is it that all of a sudden babies born in Beijing need their own full-time nanny to survive the first month?

Shaving It All off (Eyebrows Included)

Now that I’m getting closer to my due date, the really strange advice is coming in. One auntie was insistent that I shave my daughter’s head and eyebrows so that they grow back thicker and fuller. There’s not a single person in either mine or my husband’s side of the family who’ve got thick hair. Where do I even begin explaining the science behind inherited genetic traits to an 80-something-year-old?

It’s a Girl? Try Again

This one bothered me the most. We, as women, have not been fighting for equal rights just so that our daughters can be considered a consolation prize even before birth. The old Chinese generation tends to prefer boys. The most irritating comments from aunties (and old uncles) are having them tell me “it’s ok, girls are good too” or “it’s ok, you’re still young. You can try again, and maybe next time it’ll be a boy.”

Some older people still hold on to the idea that boys bring pride to the family because boys can pass down the family name. This gender bias isn’t just outdated, it’s dangerous. In China, this gender bias from the previous generations has led to an unbalanced sex ratio of birth and a shortage of women.

Pointy Belly Means Boy

I’ve completely given up arguing with aunties about this. Each pregnancy is different and each woman carries their baby differently. My baby bump is gigantic and “pointy” which, according to locals means that it must be a boy. Nevermind that we’ve already been told that we’re having a daughter by the ultrasound technician… I used to correct aunties when they tell me it’s a boy, but after I was met with upset looks and comments like “doctors don’t always know”, I’ve completely given up. Boy? Girl? I don’t care anymore, predict what you want…

Dirty Diapers Are the Wife’s Job

To be fair, this one hasn’t happened too often, but I have been told by more than one auntie that when the baby’s born I’m going to be super busy because it’s the mom’s job to take care of the baby. Husbands shouldn’t have to help. The first time an auntie had the audacity to say this to me, before I could gather together my limited Chinese vocabulary to argue, my husband stepped in and told her that in today’s Chinese society marriages no longer work like that and he’s looking forward to taking care of his daughter and his wife. I knew I married a good one…

Nice Tits

The last time my boobs got so much unwanted attention was probably in college during spring break in the Canary Islands on a nude beach… but now instead of drunk college boys, it’s old Beijing aunties and their super awkward “nice big boobs. You’ll make a lot of milk” comments. Thanks, glad I can check “verbally violated and made to feel like a cow by a stranger” off my bucket list…

KEEP READING: From Here to Maternity: Moms in Mixed-Culture Marriages Talk About Birth and Beyond

Images: Unsplash