Leng Shixiang, 55, was invited by the Chinese Academy of Arts to
be one of its 30 folk art researchers. He is a carpenter by
profession, but he was not bestowed the honor for his woodworking
skills, but rather for his expert skills in making mini kites.
Leng first fell in love with kite-making when he was eight. Over
the last 40-odd years, Leng has honed his kite-making skills from
what started out as a hobby to what has become an indispensable
part of his life. But it wasn't until 1985 that he delved into the
world of mini kites.
Leng decided to make smaller kites simply because he wanted to
see just how small a kite could get before it was unable to be
flown.
The process for making a small kite is exactly the same as that
for bigger kites -- making the framework, binding, covering it with
paper and finally drawing on it. The only difference is that it's
much more difficult to calibrate the balance on a small kite. The
smaller the kite, the harder it is.
For Leng, the mini kites are not merely pieces of art -- they must
be capable of flying. Leng has a box of half-finished mini kites
that can't be flown because of balance problems. But he isn't
willing to throw them out.
Mini kites require a lot more work and are more prone to failing
the "fly test". Therefore, each framework has to be tried and
tested before a picture is drawn on it. Leng tests the mini kites
either on his roof or his neighbors' roofs. "Mini kites are like
little bees when flying," Leng said. "Be careful and never loosen
your grip, or the kites will get lost in the trees or something
else. They are too little to be found."
The smallest kite Leng has made is a 7×7mm swallow-shaped kite,
smaller than the smallest coin in China. Despite its size, the kite
lacks none of the necessary elements of a kite. Leng said that he
flew the kite as high as about three meters when he finished it,
but he's loath to fly it now; it is too precious and delicate. So
much so that he handles it with a pair of forceps.
Another kite that Leng is particularly proud of is a 23 X 23cm
swallow-shaped kite, with about hundred bats drawn on it. The bats
imply that it is a "lucky" kite. The word "bat" in Chinese is
pronounced
bian fu, the
fu sounding very similar
to the Chinese word for good fortune.
Mini kites take much longer to make than normal-sized ones and
Leng can only make them when he's in a good mood. However, the
sense of achievement and satisfaction he derives out of making a
mini kite is almost double.
As much as Leng enjoys making kites, the thought of selling them
never crossed his mind, not even when he was at his most desperate
financially.
He remembers a time, several years ago, when he was earning only
about 100 yuan (about US$12) a month. Some foreigners offered to
pay thousands of dollars for his kites. Embassy staff even tried to
persuade him to sell the kites. But he refused.
His explanation is that every kite is a record of his love for the
art. Designs might be copied, but not the love or enthusiasm for
creation. To him, kite-making is a vocation. It is not work. For
him, it's about pleasure. It is not about money.
Leng's failing eyesight means that he makes fewer kites these
days. He works with the aid of a magnifying glass, which isn't
always very convenient.
As for passing down his skills, Leng laments that the younger
generation have no interest in his art form, which explains why he
doesn't have any apprentices. So in 1998, he wrote a book on
kite-making called Kite Making Guidance in the hope that
more young people would learn to understand and appreciate his
dying art.
(China.org.cn by Chen Lin, June 30, 2005)
