Text and Interview by Lin Pei-Ling


The Vitality of Wild Grass
 
Whenever Chung Shun-Wen talks about life at the foot of Lishan Mountain in Meinong, she recalls the words of her father, Chung Tieh-Min (1941–2011):

While I still have the strength, I will tend to my garden. One day, when the vitality of the weeds surpasses my own, I will return this land to them. That is nature. To live freely, one must fully embrace the power of life. Laziness diminishes quality.[1

In Lishan, weeding is part of the daily routine. If you are not careful to pull out the roots, the weeds will return even thicker with the spring breeze, sprouting again in just a few days. For farmers, these weeds are a nuisance; if they are not removed, it feels as though the land is neglected, giving an impression of laziness. In the same way, to live well, one cannot be idle; life’s vitality must be fully harnessed.

For Chung, the resilience and vitality of these wildflowers and grasses are gifts from nature. Each has its own unique form and beauty, and every wildflower and weed carries a name of its own. For example, Fireweed (Image 1), also known as “airplane grass,” is referred to as gaˋ ngie coi (假艾菜) in Hakka. This edible wild plant is also used in traditional medicine. Its distinctive features include pink or purplish-red flowers and white pappus hairs, allowing its seeds to scatter with the wind and grow almost anywhere. It is a common weed in Taiwan.

In 2020, Chung held her solo exhibition Random Notes of Mountain Life, named after her father’s prose collection of the same title, which documents the small lives in nature and the rhythms of mountain living. Her work is primarily inspired by daily life, a perspective shaped by her father. In the preface to Random Notes of Mountain Life, Chung Tieh-Min wrote:

Some say that life itself is literature, that each person’s life has its unique qualities, and that even the most ordinary days hold something moving. Often, we simply fail to capture those subtle, distinctive moments and shape them into precise, refined descriptions. That’s why fine literary works are often the essence of life; only truth can touch the heart. By carefully observing and recording fragments of our lives or our responses to the world around us, we can create prose that resonates deeply. This is not something only writers can achieve.[2]

Great works often emerge from the distilled moments of everyday life. By observing carefully and paying attention to details, even the most mundane things can reveal unexpected beauty. In her 2022 solo exhibition Flourishing (芊芊), Chung centered on the wildflowers and grasses commonly found in her yard. The character “芊” traditionally means lush vegetation, and in Hakka, it is pronounced cien, which sounds like “賤”—a term used to describe playful, energetic children who love to touch everything. These wild plants are a familiar sight in Lishan’s rural landscape. Even when weeds are removed, they quickly grow back, full of energy like mischievous children—hard to control. With her brush, the artist captures the strong vitality of wild grasses and their small yet elegant blooms (Image 2).
 

When Meinong’s Tobacco Fields Faded into Memory
 
In the fall of 2006, after learning that Meinong’s tobacco fields were about to be abandoned, Chung picked up her camera and headed to the fields to document the farmers and the final tobacco harvest through photos and words. She first shared her work on her blog, Impression Box of Little Lily, and later published the book That Year, in the Tobacco Fields—Bamboo Hats, Scarves, and Floral Blouses in 2009 through Summer Festival Press.[3] While studying away from home, Chung always felt a sense of belonging whenever she saw the green tobacco fields dotted with farmers wearing colorful scarves and vibrant floral blouses.

Bamboo hats, scarves, and floral blouses became vivid symbols of her hometown, Meinong, and are a shared memory of the local people. In the fields, bright scarves and Hakka-style floral blouses were the first things to catch the eye. Each woman had her favorite patterns, often wearing them so consistently that the scarves became a way to identify them. From a distance, people could recognize who was working in the fields by the patterns on their clothes. From 2008 to 2010, Chung held several exhibitions focusing on tobacco farmers as her main subject.

During her fieldwork, she spent significant time in the tobacco fields, getting to know the “aunts” and “uncles” who worked there. She greeted them warmly, shared jokes, and engaged in casual conversations. These warm and friendly individuals were later captured in her artwork. In Aunt Gu (Image 3), the character’s vibrant clothing stands out. Unlike most women, who typically wore solid or light-colored scarves, her outfit was distinctive and rich in Hakka style. Chung chose to forgo Western painting techniques of light and shadow, opting instead for a flat style to emphasize the intricate patterns and distinctive details of Hakka floral fabric. Funny Uncle (Image 4) portrays a mysterious figure in the tobacco fields. He wasn’t a regular worker but would occasionally help with farm tasks. His name is unknown, but he was famous for his jokes and had once dabbled in photography in his younger days. Without a bamboo hat, he would pull his T-shirt over his head for sun protection—a quirky and amusing look that Chung captured in her work.

Unlike the realistic backgrounds seen in photographs, Chung chose to use gold leaf for the figure’s backdrop. The warm golden tones represents the intense sunlight of southern Taiwan, as well as the warmth and passion of the people working in the land. Over time, the gold leaf’s shine will fade, developing a mottled look. The once-bright golden yellow, reminiscent of southern sunlight, will soften into a more muted and refined tone. This gradual transformation reflects the aging process of tobacco leaves, which start as bright golden yellow when freshly cured and gradually deepen into a calm yellow-brown as they age.

Wandering Through Baden-Baden and Chishang
 
In the fall of 2015, Chung spent some time living in Baden-Baden, a city in southwestern Germany known for its green spaces, forests, and distinct seasons. She enjoyed walking through the forests, collecting acorns and seeds, and placing them in small paper boxes to study up close. These natural treasures later inspired her 2018 series, Autumn Collections (Image 5). Collecting and observing these fallen seeds became a simple joy during her walks. Acorns and pine cones are common in Baden-Baden’s parks and forests. While often overlooked at first glance, each has a unique shape and texture. Through careful observations, Chung captured their distinct features, such as the chrysanthemum-like, radiating pine cone with spiral scales and winged seeds (Image 5-1), showcasing its charm and intricate beauty.

Unlike her time living in Meinong, Chung spent a short residency in Chishang, Taitung, in August 2017, viewing local life as an outsider. Chishang has a calm and relaxed atmosphere. When asked about the similarities and differences between Chishang and Meinong, she pointed out that both places share a slower pace of life compared to big cities and a close connection between people and nature. Chishang also has a sizable Hakka community, and speaking the same language gave her a sense of warmth and familiarity. The difference, however, lies in the everyday landscape. In Chishang, many fields feature solitary trees standing quietly at their center, like silent guardians. In her painting Quiet Afternoon (Image 6), Chung captures this scene with a single tree rooted in a vast field, set against distant, gentle mountain ridges. The lush green of the rice paddies and the soft lines of the mountains evoke a profound sense of calm and peace. Like the tree in the field, viewers are invited to take in the vast fields, steady mountains, and open blue sky, embracing the slow, tranquil rhythm of life in Chishang—much like the local cats, leisurely enjoying the serene landscape.

Inspired by everyday moments with her family in Meinong, autumn walks in German forests, and the natural beauty of Chishang, Chung held her solo exhibition Boundless Life at Mind Set Art Center in Taipei in 2018. The exhibition showcased scenes from these three unique experiences. Through careful observation, Chung captured the seemingly ordinary yet often overlooked details of daily life—simple elements that deserve attention, hold endless fascination, and sometimes surprise. By slowing down and looking closely, the hidden beauty of nature begins to unfold.
 

Family Bonds
Chung Shun-Wen comes from a renowned Hakka literary family in Taiwan. Her grandfather, Chung Li-Ho (1915–1960), was a celebrated Hakka writer known for his vivid depictions of rural life, while her father, Chung Tieh-Min, was a respected writer and educator. Unlike traditional Hakka people who emphasize frugality and practicality, her father strongly supported his children’s passions. He encouraged Chung to study fine arts and pursue a career in painting, while also supporting her sister’s work in Chinese literature and research. The editing, illustrating, and proofreading of the New Edition of the Complete Works of Chung Li-Ho and The Complete Works of Chung Tieh-Min became a collaborative effort across three generations of their family.[4] Chung Shun-Wen took charge of the illustrations, working closely with her father while he was still alive. They often discussed the details of the artwork, as many objects and scenes described in the texts—set in a different era—were unfamiliar to her. Her father, a talented artist himself, would sometimes sketch quick drafts to help her understand and visualize these elements, bridging the gap between past and present. The project brought the whole family together, making it a cherished and unforgettable experience.

Asleep - 1 (Image 7) portrays the artist’s father lying face down on a pillow, peacefully asleep. This tranquil moment evokes the artist’s childhood memories of massaging her father’s back until he drifted off. Seeing his familiar profile, it feels as if time has momentarily paused, giving him a brief escape from his back pain. Chung uses fine lines to outline her father’s profile and broad shoulders, gently highlighting his sparse white hair and eyebrows with soft strokes of white paint. The mostly white palette—his shirt and hair, the bedsheet, and the mottled pillow—creates a sense of tranquility and balance. This use of white naturally draws the viewer’s focus to the right side of the painting, where warm yellow-brown tones highlight his face and the hand tucked beneath it.

In 2019, Chung moved her studio to downtown Kaohsiung, beginning a life split between the city and Lishan in Meinong. Despite leaving her hometown, her art remains deeply rooted in the people and landscapes of Meinong. With a bit of physical and emotional distance, she found herself able to revisit her work with fresh eyes. She decided to turn her focus back to painting her family, especially her mother. For Chung, painting family members is an intensely personal and intimate process—something she feels must be done quietly and privately. Painting her mother, in particular, holds a deeply special place in her heart. Only in recent years, after relocating to the city, has she found the opportunity to pick up her brush again and revisit this meaningful subject.

Reflecting on her father’s words, “Your mother is becoming more and more like your grandmother,” Chung quietly thought to herself, “Yes, she truly is.” Her mother, who has spent her life working the fields to support the family, has always been devoted to caring for everyone. In 2023, at Lotus Art Gallery in Fengshan District, Chung presented her solo exhibition About Her: Chung Shun-Wen Solo Exhibition as a tribute to her family, especially her late grandmother, Chung Tai-Mei, and her beloved mother, Chung Kuo Ming-Chin. Inspired by the female figures in her life, the exhibition focuses on her grandmother and mother, capturing the ordinary yet extraordinary moments of their daily lives.

The new piece Ming-Chin (Image 8) depicts the artist’s mother’s hands, aged and worn from years of tireless labor. Deep wrinkles and prominent veins tell a story of a life devoted to hard work. The piece naturally brings to mind her 2004 work, Rest, which similarly captured her grandmother’s folded hands. Notably, Ming-Chin offers significantly more intricate details. The artist meticulously captures the textures of the skin, the structure of the palms, and the joints of the fingers with striking precision. The hands, though rough in appearance, feel incredibly tangible, fostering a sense of intimacy between the viewer and the subject. The painting’s elements feel remarkably close to the observer, and its warm yellow-brown tones create a comforting sense of emotion, almost inviting touch and connection.
 
 
Conclusion
Simple, everyday moments—like fruits found by the roadside, crops and weeds in the fields, small animals in the trees or around the neighborhood, a sleeping father, a grandmother’s silhouette, or a mother’s hands—are observed through the artist’s eyes and transformed into detailed Eastern gouache paintings. Rooted in daily life, Chung Shun-Wen’s works are relatable and resonate with viewers of all ages. As Chung Tieh-Min once said, “Life itself is literature.” Even the simplest moments hold beauty and meaning. By observing carefully and recording thoughtfully, one can create works that deeply resonate. This philosophy extends beyond literature to painting and other forms of art. Beauty is not something distant or elusive—it exists in the everyday details of our lives and doesn’t need to be sought elsewhere. Through her brush, Chung captures the essence of life in her paintings, revealing the extraordinary within the ordinary.