WEARING a pair of rouge high heels and a shining necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings, Fu Yiyao exudes a youthful beauty that belies the fact that she is already 69 years old.

She was thus attired when she arrived with her long scroll “Dragon Boat Festival” at the Duoyunxuan art center. The 13.96-meter-long artwork features one thousand human figures and took her three years to make.

Fu’s father, Fu Baoshi (1904-65), was a towering figure in China’s modern art history and a leader of the New Chinese Painting Movement.

Like her father, Fu Yiyao today is also a renowned artist who enjoys success both in Japan and China.

Born in 1947 in Nanjing, capital city of Jiangsu Province, Fu studied classic literature at Nanjing Normal University. Her original wish was to study performance at a theater academy, which was unfortunately opposed by her father. Upon graduation, she was assigned to teach at a remote school and later started to study painting.

“It was after my father’s death that I picked up my brush,” she recalls. “At that time, I didn’t think of being a big artist. For me, it was an emotional release from my longing for my dad.”

Like her peers, Fu witnessed the vicissitudes of the society. She labored hard at the countryside, and in 1979 was sent by the government to study in Japan.

Due to her efforts, she established her art status in Japan and becomes famous in both countries.

Outgoing and energetic, Fu says she’s satisfied with everything she’s experienced in life.

Q: Why are you interested in Dragon Boat Festival rather than other traditional Chinese festivals?

A: There are several reasons. Firstly, Dragon Boat Festival is related to China’s intangible cultural heritage. Secondly, I have a passion for it because of Qu Yuan (whose death provides the basis for the festival). You know what? It seems like Qu is one of my old acquaintances.

Thanks to my father, I knew about Qu when I was a kid. I remember that my father always ... told us the legacy of Qu Yuan and the Dragon Boat Festival. In his eyes, making or eating zongzi (glutinous rice dumpling stuffed with different fillings) was not that important on that day. Sharing with us knowledge of the festival and painting it on rice paper were what really mattered.

Q: What was the biggest challenge in creating such a big piece?

A: In fact, I encountered several challenges. When mentioning Dragon Boat Festival, many would immediately relate to zongzi or ai cao (mugwort). The festival is not a concrete scene or even something that words could describe. How to transform something abstract into my painting was a problem. With regard to the hero of this painting, Qu Yuan, I could fully use my traditional Chinese technique to depict him. But there are also many other ordinary characters that couldn’t be drawn using the traditional Chinese technique, so I referred to some skills I learnt in Japan plus some Western technique to capture them.

Q: In your eyes, what’s the most precious thing that your father passed on to you?

A: I clearly remember my father once telling me “I don’t have any requirement for what you will do, but you should have a ‘book’ in your mind.” For him, this “book” was the ability to understand the essence of ancient Chinese literature. My father believed I could distinguish myself in any area once I was equipped with such an ability, and this is the most precious thing he left me.

Q: Is the title “Fu Baoshi’s daughter” a source of pressure? Or is it like a halo?

A: Frankly speaking, I don’t have pressure or a halo from being his daughter. For me, Fu Baoshi is just my father. But I would feel sad if others said “Oh, this is Fu’s daughter? What a shame.” Or I would feel happy if they said “Fu’s daughter is rather something!”

Q: Like many of your peers, you were sent to work in the countryside during the “cultural revolution” (1966-76). How did you overcome the agony and difficulties especially without knowing how long you would be away from your home?

A: This is also one of the precious things that my father had given me. He always said that we grew up on a paved road instead of the mud in the countryside. We didn’t have any idea of the hardships in life, thus he was worried. He firmly believed that anyone who didn’t know the experience of hunger or cold couldn’t be called a real person.

Before going to the countryside, I took all the things I had in life for granted. Why shouldn’t I feel the same hunger when others were hungry? I was just born with luck.

However, after I arrived at the countryside, I immediately knew what my father meant. For example, in the morning I had to water the field, but the temperature then was nearly zero. My bare legs were scratched and hurt by the ice. At the moment, I doubted myself whether I could stand such hardships. Then I thought of my father’s words, and I treated such experience as a way to cultivate my willpower. I convinced myself that such pain was given by God for me to grow into a real person. Later I found that I, surprisingly, adapted myself to the environment.

Q: You went to Japan to further your studies. How does the Japanese culture influence on your creations?

A: Honestly, when I first arrived in Tokyo, I didn’t find any aura of Japanese cultural there. For example, nearly all the galleries showcased Western art. But Chinese culture was deeply rooted there. The passion of the Japanese toward traditional ink-wash paintings was beyond my expectation. I learned the Japanese language and their painting history. That might have some influence on me. I am also impressed by their austere habits. For example, if they promise to do something, then they will never give up no matter how long it takes.

Q: You are often invited to draw paintings in Japanese temples. Do you feel the spirit of Zen when painting alone inside these temples?

A: I feel that I am cultivating my mind there. It doesn’t mean that I don’t take a break or rest, but I have to be highly concentrated. Don’t you think this is also a way to practice Zen?

Q: It is said that when you were young, you dreamed of being an actress. An actress is exposed in front of the spotlights and cameras, while by contrast artists are lonelier. Do you enjoy such loneliness?

A: Like any young girl, I loved pretty clothes and the glamor on the stage when I was young. I thought life on stage was what I wanted so I could escape ordinary, or even mediocre, life. But I have never been a real actress. In fact, my father was strongly against my plan to study at a local theater academy. He thought that a person should have something solid to live on. But I liked performing, or to be more exact, the vanity of being glamorous.

But when I became more mature, I gradually found the beauty in profundity. My father passed away quite abruptly, and now I am only able to express my love toward him on the rice paper.

Perhaps at my age, I understand that one can still feel solitude even though they are surrounded by people. Emotional communication is the most important. When I am painting, I am communicating with all the characters under my brushstrokes. I am not lonely when I paint.