Maroc - TAIWANTODAY.TW - Taiwan Review - 01/Feb 00:00

Piercing the Darkness

Two visual artists decades apart shed light on the labor that built Taiwan’s wealth.   “Interior of Metal Shop,” ink and pigment on paper, 1951 (Courtesy of Taipei Fine Arts Museum) Throughout the Japanese colonial era (1895-1945) and into the 20th century, Taiwan’s mining industry was a pillar of economic and social development. Mining not only fueled industrial progress but also inspired two very different visual artists to take the laborers as subjects, creating a narrative that still resonates today. A 2019 donation to the Taipei Fine Arts Museum (TFAM) of 150 pieces by the family of Hung Jui-lin (洪瑞麟) reflects a commitment to filling a void in local art history. Hung followed miners underground, and his work caught their physical strength and movements in dark, claustrophobic spaces. “This gift is a meaningful ­building block in Taiwan’s cultural heritage,” said Pai Hsueh-lan (白雪蘭), curator of a recent exhibition of Hung’s art at TFAM.   Photographer Ken Chu, saw acacia wood, pictured in his 1986 shot "Carry" captured at ChongKuang Coal Mine in New Taipei City's Pingxi District, as a metaphor for miners' mutual care as the tunnel support beams make a loud cracking sound before breaking, warning workers and saving lives. (Courtesy of Ken Chu) Hung was born into a merchant ­family in 1912 and attended a school whose Japanese principal taught the concepts of equality and philanthropy that ­influenced him from an early age. His father was an accomplished Chinese painter and supported Hung’s art education. After studying art in Taiwan, in 1930 Hung went to Japan and eventually graduated in Western painting from the prestigious Imperial Art School. On his return to Taiwan, he was employed in an administrative capacity at a mining company where his mentor, artist Ni Chiang-huai (倪蔣懷), also worked. Hung remained there for 30 years until he retired in 1972. He never stopped sketching and went into the mine tunnels to capture the miners’ world, bringing his drawings home and transforming them into oil paintings.   According to Pai, Hung’s approach to his medium was key to the dynamic character of his art. He brought small pieces of paper, ink in film canisters and light brushes into the hot, dank environment of the mine to capture worker’s movements with precision and speed. “Unlike images that celebrate sunlight and nature, Hung’s paintings embrace the stark artificiality of mine lighting,” she said. “He recognized the miners’ headlamps were the only source of illumination and used his technical skill to render the beams as a ­powerful visual metaphor for resilience and hope.” The respect involved in applying fine art techniques to the subject of hard labor deepens the impact of the ­subject matter, the curator noted, adding that Hung’s conveyance of light went ­beyond ­aesthetics to emerge as a ­narrative device that imparted the struggle and triumph inherent in ­physical labor. At a time when manual workers were often marginalized in the public consciousness, images of miners were a ­departure from traditional painting themes, and the gift of Hung’s body of work to TFAM ­ensures that the lives of laborers remain acknowledged as an integral part of  Taiwan’s cultural heritage.   Taipei Fine Arts Museum exhibition “Unearthing Light” celebrates Hung Jui-lin's 110th anniversary in 2022. (Courtesy of Taipei Fine Arts Museum) Coming to Light Hung’s art remained unknown until the 1970s nativist art movement, when it was discovered and showcased in a 1979 exhibition at the central city of Taichung's National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts that caused a sensation. In the catalogue, he is quoted as saying: “My paintings are miners’ diaries and my own reflections on their work. Representing the sacred work of miners through painting is a mission given to me by art.”   “Hung felt a deep connection with miners. He found an authenticity in their lives that stood in stark contrast to the pretensions of politics and high society,” Pai observed. His work highlighted the societal contradictions that allowed such exploitation to persist and represented a raw, unfiltered humanity. The struggles and camaraderie he observed became the essence of his art. “His work compels us to confront the humanity we often overlook in others,” the curator said. As his compositions captivate viewers, Hung’s legacy casts light on the courage of those who labored in the shadows.   Hung Jui-lin’s work and materials are on permanent display at Houtong Coal Mine Museum. (Photo by Chen Mei-ling) Pai expressed deep appreciation for Hung. “I’ve admired him since I was young and had the privilege of meeting him at an exhibition. He was ­generous, humble and humorous.” She went on to say that ­government support and the ­universal appeal of Hung’s themes made his work accessible to a wider ­audience but also ­presented challenges in ­preserving the power of the stories. “It’s not just about showcasing art,” she ­emphasized. “It’s about ensuring the ­miners’ experiences that Hung portrayed are fully seen.”   Lens Legacy Another artist who strikingly portrayed the lives of miners is Ken Chu (朱健炫), who worked for a trading company and fell into photography as a hobby in the early 1980s. In search of an interesting subject for a photo competition, he went to Haishan Mine in New Taipei City’s Tucheng District and was shocked and excited by what he witnessed there. “I encountered miners for the first time and the experience was unforgettable,” he shared. Chu recognized their work as a struggle and found their fortitude in the face of danger and prejudice to be a compelling subject.   “Portrait of Hung Jui-lin,” gelatin silver print, 1990 (Courtesy of Taipei Fine Arts Museum) At first when Chu waited at the mine entrance to take photos, the miners yelled at him and once even took his film away, but gradually he understood that they did not want to be photographed because of a superstition that they would be frozen in that instant and would never be able to escape the mines. He persisted, however, and became friends with the miners, who got used to him hanging around. In all he spent about a decade taking over 6,000 images at 20 mines from Tucheng and Ruifang to Keelung and Pingxi.   In midsummer 1984 an explosion at the Haishan mine killed 74 people, almost half of whom were Indigenous Amis, followed by fatal disasters in Tucheng, Sanxia ​​and Ruifang, killing at least 270 people in just that year. This marked the beginning of the end of coal extraction in Taiwan.The risks to life and limb for workers were immense, with comparatively high wages offset by the ever-present specter of death, injury and chronic illness. This juxtaposition of sacrifice and necessity forms the core of Chu’s images.   Houtong Coal Mine Ecological Park displays a collection of Hung’s paintings at the tunnel entrance. (Photo by Chen Mei-ling) Chu’s work focuses on the human toll in the industry, particularly through ­portraiture. “The miners’ eyes express resilience, hope and fatigue. It’s in their gaze, their stances, their very forms,” Chu said. He emphasized that unlike painting or literature, photography has an immediacy that is unparalleled in documenting reality. “A single photograph can convey what words and paintings might struggle to express,” Chu said. His commitment to capturing miners’ working conditions preserved a legacy that only came to light in 2016 when his photos from a quarter of a century before formed part of a joint Taiwan-Japan mining exhibition at the Xinpingxi Coal Mine Museum. In 2018 he chose 160 photos from among thousands for a book titled “Miners’ Hymn,” which led to the Public Television System contacting him to help find miners for a documentary program. The success of the ensuing film prompted Chu to embark on an oral ­history project to find the miners whose photos he took at Haishan and other mines 15 years before and write down their own impressions of their lives. The ­resulting book, “Coal Sky,” won the Ministry of Culture’s 48th Golden Tripod award in 2024 in the documentary photography category.   “Frontlines of Toil,” Ruisan Coal Mine, Houtong, Ruifang District, 1984 (Courtesy of Ken Chu) Enduring Spirit  Chu’s most iconic photo was captured at Haishan mine in 1984 and won the Taiwan Photographic Competition two years later. The striking image depicts miner Chen Cheng-chi (陳政治) looking back at the camera, face and body black with coal dust, eyes and teeth white as he grins at the viewer. It epitomizes the power Chu’s work has to engage the viewer, especially the younger generation unfamiliar with the harsh realities of mining life. “Today’s youth often tell me they’re stunned by what they see in my photos,” he said. “For many, it’s the first time they are ­confronted with the extreme conditions that miners worked in.” Through his award-winning photographs, Chu brings unseen characters into the public gaze, bridging a gap to create an emotional connection between the past and the present. “The power of photography lies in its ability to make the unimaginable visible,” he stated.   Beyond the visual impact, Chu’s work reveals the physical toll taken on miners by chronic health conditions, particularly lung diseases caused by breathing in coal dust. “It’s heartbreaking to realize that so many suffered from debilitating ­illnesses,” Chu said, his voice tinged with sorrow. Yet amidst adversity, solidarity and strength emerged within the mines. “The workers had to rely on one another to survive,” the photographer said. This spirit of cooperation and endurance is a recurring theme in his photographs. Chu hopes his work inspires audiences to ­reflect on Taiwan’s journey, one shaped by both hardship and hope. “Mining images don’t just tell Taiwan’s story; they reflect universal themes of labor, perseverance and ­solidarity that extend far beyond our borders,” he concluded.   “Looking Back,” an iconic image of miner Chen Cheng-chi taken in 1984 at Haishan Coal Mine, wins Chu the Taiwan Photographic Competition in 1986. (Courtesy of Ken Chu) The painter and photographer both found inspiration in miners’ daily lives, the former showing the harsh realities of ­underground life and the latter the fortitude and grace with which workers entered and left the tunnels every day. The resultant images, though decades apart and conveyed through very different mediums, offer a lens through which the contemporary gaze connects with a pivotal chapter of Taiwan’s past and invites reflection on the industrial transformation that ­established the ­success that the country enjoys today. When ­receiving the Golden Tripod Award, Chu said, “I want to use this book to awaken the public and ensure future generations remember that forty years ago, a group of people called miners dedicated their youth and lives to this land, allowing Taiwan’s economy to take off.”  Write to KRAKIAS KAI at kwhuang@mofa.gov.tw