WHEN Chen Jialing walked onto the red carpet at the opening of the 9th Rome Film Festival in late October last year, the veteran Chinese artist didn’t feel nervous under the flashes and light, but rather a kind of amusement.

He was there because the namesake documentary, “Chen Jialing,” produced by award-winning filmmaker Jia Zhangke, premiered at the festival. The film reflects changes in the country during the past decades, as seen through the life of Chen, now a Shanghai resident.

It’s the first full-length documentary film since China’s opening-up and reform that has been devoted to a Chinese artist and also the first time that a biopic about the life of a Chinese contemporary artist has appeared at a top international film festival.

In the late 1980s, some short documentaries featuring masters such as Liu Haisu (1896-1994), Ren Bonian (1840-96) and Pan Tianshou (1897-1971) were once screened in the theaters.

“Sometimes I asked myself why it’s me, not some other famed artists,” Chen says. “My works don’t even fetch the highest record at auctions and I’m not the oldest living Chinese artist.”

But he is perhaps the most suitable character for a movie, as his life and career have undergone several historical stages through the “cultural revolution” (1966-76) and reform and opening up starting in the late 1970s.

Born in 1937 in Hangzhou, capital city of Zhejiang Province, Chen rose to fame in the late 1980s. He retains “an amusing heart” for his cross-media art activities in recent years.

He is an innovator in applying to traditional Chinese ink-wash paintings some skills of Impressionism and Abstractionism. He has made some crossover attempts such as blending water-ink patterns with porcelain, silk attire and classical rosewood furniture.

It is somewhat surprising that Chen and Jia could have come together on a movie. The leading six-generation director (“Xiao Wu,” “Platform,” “The World,” “Still Life”) has garnered a series of film awards in the West and is noted for his faithful depiction of the harsh realities of China’s underclass, while Chen is renowned for his ink-wash paintings with an elegant style.

“Frankly, I had hardly heard of his name before,” says Chen at his Ling Kiln studio overlooking Suzhou Creek. “Then I watched one of his movies — ‘A Touch of Sin.’ Many told me Jia is a world-famous director, but I was a little skeptical that we could cooperate well for this documentary.”

Chen recalls their first encounter at a dinner. “Jia was not a man of many words, but I was moved that he told me ‘I will try my best to implement this documentary’.”

The 45-year-old filmmaker is so busy with his schedule that even today the two haven’t become close friends, but the documentary proved to be a “happy ending.”

The 66-minute film received critical acclaims at the Rome Film Festival. Chen even designed a traditional costume himself for the red carpet.

“I thought a formal suit was too serious, so I designed the costume in rouge colors with thin cappa,” he says. “After the screening, some Westerners stood up and gave us the applause. Of course, I didn’t understand what they said, but I could see the passion in their eyes toward the film.”

The film recounts how Chen, now in his late 70s, went to the 12 famous mountains over a three-year period to draw new landscape paintings.

“We don’t just focus on Chen’s creations,” says Jia. “His experience is epitome of many Chinese intellectuals of his time. In a sense, the film displays the power of art and the contemporary art history of China.”

Because of this documentary, Chen went to Tibet for the first time. “I’m quite proud to have such a healthy body at my age,” he says. “The shooting team stayed there for 10 days, but I was there for almost a month. I traveled a lot within Tibet. That was amazing.”

But Chen also confesses that it was not easy to overcome some difficulties while shooting the film. “Sometimes I had to paint on a shaking boat. All those young people surrounding me vomited,” he says. “There’s also NG (not good) several times. But I could understand that; perfection demands repetition.”

In his eyes, art has no boundaries among various forms.

“If you asked me whether I’m 100 percent satisfied with this movie, my answer might be ‘no’,” he says. “I can only say that I am basically satisfied with it, but some details such as the composition are still not perfect enough. Yes, I am not a film director or a cameraman, but we are all artists, and we all know what the best angle is to capture a perfect scene.”

After its premiere in Rome, “Chen Jialing” will screen in Shanghai in March and participate in the Hawaii Film Festival in October. The veteran artist is also considering a solo exhibition in Hawaii.

“Frankly speaking, I could feel more passion and admiration from the Western audiences than the local ones,” he says. “I always think that the aesthetic taste of the Chinese needs to be improved. Our material life has changed a lot, and we have certain standards in what to eat and what to wear. But what about art? In my eyes, art is the most luxurious thing.”

Calling himself an optimistic person, Chen refuses to put darkness into his paintings. Whether the flowers or the landscapes, his paintings all render an elegant and modern aura through a semi-abstraction form.

Chen first gained fame for his “Lotus” series in which traditional ink-wash techniques were fused with modern flourishes. But in recent years he has challenged himself to depict 12 mountains in large-scale paintings.

Chen says hiking up these mountains — he climbed one per month — was an unforgettable experience.

“It is not difficult to paint one mountain,” Chen says, “but using different brushstrokes to reflect the various characteristics of 12 mountains is unthinkable.”

Chen says he used five shapes to capture the clouds around the mountains.

“In my eyes, a mountain is akin to a person,” he says. “The knack for this project is to grasp the character of each peak.”

Chen often goes to his studio to paint after playing mahjong all night.

“Don’t you think that playing mahjong reflects the Oriental philosophy?” he asks with a smile. “You never know what you will have in your hands at the beginning, and you never know what you will have for the next step. You have to adjust what you have based on what kind of mahjong pieces you pick up for the next step.

“It’s just like our life: Nothing can be planned at the beginning. You just follow the trend either of life or of the society,” says the artist. “When I was born, the bombs of the Japanese invaders were everywhere in my hometown. But now, I’m here on the screen. Isn’t that the unpredictable facet of life?”