The Vain Hopes and Bizarre Ways of Luo Xu the Savant Genius

Ye Yongqing

Among the friends I have come to know in Yunnan over the past years, Luo Xu has always been seen as a bit of a savant character. His almost legendary experiences, words and deeds, the cluster of buildings he created, the artistic works of shocking multitude, his sage-like ability to maintain a romantic sentiment amidst the urban landscape and his wholly unique dreamlike quality elicit no small amount of discussion and critique. Kunming is a small frontier city. When compared historically and socially to the larger urban cultural centers of China, where many of the illnesses of modernity were brewed, the ferocity of recent attacks by the forces of modernization has been even more shocking. On another side, in this place, those rolling flames rolled right past much of the smaller growth, leaving many cinders of the past agricultural era on the grassroots level. This is not exactly a bad thing. Among the voices decrying modernization, one often hears nostalgia for the ancient handicrafts, and there are many eulogies of nature and the soil. Most of the people who take this position can be split into two extremes: one is the worker who is truly in the deep wilds of the mountains, still surviving on the old and laborious ways that have been passed along many generations, the other are those romantic urban literati without a callus on their hands or a bit of dirt under their fingernails. Luo Xu is the simultaneous embodiment of both.

It is in man's nature to create myths and legends. When it comes to those outstanding individuals, if their lives contain anything that puzzles or perplexes people, those people will grab on to it with voracity, creating all manner of rumors and hearsay, and they will believe them unquestioningly and fanatically. This could be said to be romanticism's defiance against the banality of real life. These types of legends and myths have been attached to the bodies of all of the Yunnan people I truly admire: Luo Xu, the dancer Yang Liping, the filmmaker Wu Wenguang, the builder Zhao Qing, and the musician Tian Feng. The little stories and facts of the legends have become their most infallible passport on the road to fame.

Luo Xu simultaneously exudes a type of carnal passion and a tragic melancholy, as if he is permanently sacrificing himself by presenting his soul's deepest secrets in the form of this plot of red soil from ten years past. An artist, be it a sculptor, poet or architect, uses his imaginative and creative works to spruce up the world, satisfying the people's aesthetic consciousness and curiosity. But, this instinct, like human nature, is not without a boorish and wild underside. While contributing his works to the world, the artist is also presenting his personal talents and regrets before your eyes. Searching for an artist's secrets is an exercise that causes a lot of confusion and misunderstanding. The profound mystery is much like that shrouding the natural world; the beauty is in that a true answer can never be found. Even Luo's most inconsequential works allow us a blurry glimpse at his peculiar, humorous, complicated and tormented personality; for the very same reason, even those who do not like his art cannot remain indifferent to him. It is also this that causes so many people to be so curious and interested in his life and personality.

In fact, in many people's eyes, Luo Xu is not merely a failed business manager, nor is he any different from many other down and out artists. Truly, the real life Luo Xu is a far cry from the genius of our imagination. He always has a smile for those fame-seekers and accidental tourists who drop by. When I first met him many years ago, Luo Xu's little eyes shined with just this type of smile, this is in fact the shine and tranquility that has weathered the storm to see the rainbow on the other side. It just might be that this tranquil modesty is what conceals his ideas and ambition; it also causes people, after satisfying their temporary curiosity, to miss a grand opportunity with the creator and sentinel of these red clay houses, a truly gifted master.

Luo Xu was born in the Mi'Le region of Yunnan's Honghe Prefecture. That arid land produces China's finest tobacco and grapes. Perhaps the elements of that terrain infected his heart, instilling that exuberant creative passion. Though he came of age in a time when Chinese society was thoroughly studying the West, his true love is for the spirit of the wild countryside. In his early days, he labored as a builder, worked in the Culture House, and struggled diligently to grasp the skills of art, eventually undertaking advanced studies in sculpting at the Central Arts Institute. He once even made the mistake of engaging in maritime trade for a few years. He has served as a chairman of the board, CEO, architect, dance performance director, restaurateur, head chef and furniture maker...Over a few years, Luo Xu watched the rise and fall of his 'Earth Nest' and his company. This process led Luo to "drink up all of mankind's quirks", while also exponentially feeling the pain and suffering of the world. His failure in the business realm and his rich life experience left Luo Xu no choice but to retreat to his expansive compound. This is the collection of buildings that resemble either female breasts or primordial furnaces that he built in 1996 with a child's spirit and an artist's resolve. The Earth Nest, the product of his bizarre imagination and handcrafted style, has stirred the hearts of visitors from all walks of life. In regards to an architect's remark that Luo Xu's house is a challenge to modern architecture, he shamelessly replied, "My greatest challenge was in not using a ruler". This response conceals a deeper significance, and betrays a bit of irony. When Luo had just finished drawing up the designs and diligently sought building approval from the Architecture Institute, their conclusion was that "this cannot be built!" Frustrated, he came back and gathered his own construction crew, marking off the foundation with a chalk string. When the walls reached eye-level, Luo Xu grabbed a bamboo staff, and directed his team of three hundred workers in building the dozens of buildings, with the highest reaching 16 meters. With his own insight and knowledge, Luo Xu broke all the mathematical rules and constructs of modern architecture, creating a fresh new fantastical realm for his illusions to roam. Here, he is always surrounded by those things most essential for the blooming of his spirit. He sees the animals he raises as his own siblings; his brother, 'Luo Hui' is actually a mischievous and horny donkey. Among the vivacity of the chickens, dogs, fish and ducks, among every branch and flower, Luo Xu has found happiness. And in finding this happiness, Luo Xu seems to have found his true place. It as if Luo Xu's intense spirit and surplus energy have always been separate from his body, wandering everywhere in search of its place, finally entering a vessel in this piece of red soil. His lonely soul, which bottled up all manner of odd thoughts and strange deeds, finally burst forth in rich imagination like ignited gunpowder. I feel that some people just haven't found their proper place; opportunity casts them into a new environment, while they always miss that home that has landed in places unknown. They are nothing but sojourners in their place of birth. Those alleys rich with the familiar smells of childhood, those humanity-filled streets where they played with their young friends, to them are nothing but a station in their journey. These people are eternally aloof among the masses, even in their only familiar environment they still struggle to remain in solitude. Maybe this feeling of unfamiliarity back home is what causes these people to leave in search of a new place to permanently settle. Maybe in the deepest reaches of Luo Xu's heart there remain the ways of the ancient ancestors from times long past, beckoning these lost wanderers to return to the lands where the spirits of their ancestors remain.

Luo Xu told me that sometimes when a person happens upon a place, he sometimes gets the mysterious feeling that it is the place for them to stay, that it is the homeland they have always been searching for. Hence, here in this unfamiliar setting next to the busy provincial highway, at the foot of a mountain covered with poplars, among the unfamiliar groups of migratory people, in the middle of a roadside gas station, garage and a cluster of hair salons and restaurants, he decided to settle down. He began to build houses and plant trees, fill in ditches, dig ponds and stack high walls, closing off the world and reality to the outside. It is as if this place is just like he knew it as a child. Here he has found tranquility. This tranquility is that which comes from turning one's back on reality. In this place only ten kilometers away from modern civilization and the clamorous city, people are astonished by the force with which the Earth Nest counters the real world. Luo Xu's state of being as a sort of metropolitan sage could even be called a spectacle. Over three hundred years ago on the top of Mount Yu'An just west of Kunming, the great Sichuanese sculptor Li Guangxiu and his students crafted 500 Luohan statues in the Bamboo Temple with his students, filling us with feelings of awe and respect. That is the work of divine talent, a product of ingenuity and spirit. We are dazzled by the lifelike qualities. I feel miniscule and insignificant in the face of these great sculptures. But the greatness of the statues at the Bamboo Temple is something that people are psychologically prepared for. But in such a primordial dwelling as this one, not far from the modern city and real life, looking over the East Dian Highway and wrapped in the cluster of hills at Xiao Shiba, no one would have thought they would come across such astonishing works. Those great works by Li Guangxiu, each one perfect in bearing and completely different in personality, draw up feelings of solemnity and respect. But at the Earth Nest, though what we see is also beauty, it makes my spirit uneasy. I don't know exactly what it is, but there is some kind of force that makes people unable to find peace, there is something that makes us feel different, there is a strangeness that cannot be escaped. The intellectually voluptuous woman/insect sculptures around the compound, the quivering sheen inside the vaulted ceilings, the stacked clusters of round buildings under the blue sky, the palms and bushes mysteriously shuddering in the highland dusk, the clay vessels scattered around the domicile in the hues of rotting flesh, all draw up feelings of loathing, but at the same time evoke a burning desire. This desire is at times creepy like spiders; at other times it is like a shiny and delectable fruit, topping it off with old Luo's amazing cuisine only brings more unease, causing the heart and spirit to tremble. Who knows what manner of joyous and painful illusions created all of this?

Luo Xu's wealth is in that he has his own homeland which he loves, and he can express his own desires through his art, be they many or few. His tragedy is in that he paid a price for this realm he created. Though the artist has laboriously worked to create this nest and fill it with works of art and the rich fragrance of flowers, it also has shades of the parable of the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden, or Sisyphus carrying the boulder up the mountain - in the end he has become the lifetime gardener and slave of the very garden he created, exiled as the watcher and laborer of his own realm. Maybe this is the only way; we can only read the unique melancholy and timeless implications of life in Luo Xu's living space and spiritual world by penetrating the outward appearance of his intense and exaggerative artwork. Luo Xu's describes his life in a totally sexy and whimsical fashion. It is as if his pain and lofty sentiments are for some unknown reason always linked with the female body, but the real Luo Xu is an artist with a mind. He has a unique and sincere understanding of art and life. His experience once again proves to us that in this material era, the cultural mood emulates that which is seen from below. When the hearts of the common people are solely set on monetary and carnal desire, through hard work, the people can see things that touch on the depths of life. Even such things as a house, art, eating, raising chickens and planting trees can serve as a link between the body and soul. All that this form and method has opened and enriched for those truly creative people like Li Guangxiu and Luo Xu, today is like fruit of intangible wealth and spirit for the enjoyment of those who yearn for spiritual and soulful life.

I have enjoyed many an evening sitting on the brick patio chatting with Luo Xu as the sun settles into the West, the stars twinkle and creep across the heavens and the beautiful spring colors of the garden are slowly enveloped by the encroaching darkness. Under the brilliant starry sky, the houses become soft silhouettes of precarious mountain peaks. Airplanes overhead carry the hurried passengers through the sky, making this metropolitan estate seem incomparably peaceful. Only the occasional ear-splitting car horns on the nearby road and the distant glow of the city remind us of this strangeness and restlessness. All of this seems a bit like a story from one of those fantasy novels: Luo Xu created his own homeland, and this homeland seems to have been granted magic fruit, and taken on a life of its own. Whoever takes a bite can open a door to the secrets of its soul, like entering a mysterious palace in the dreamtime. They are nourishing an unpredictable danger - one bite is enough to turn man into animal. They are also concealing a happiness that has never before been experienced, who is to say they can't become spirits. All healthy, normal things, all of the beautiful friendliness and simple happiness of pure folk is all kept very far away from them, but they still possess a great allure, just like the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil in the Garden of Eden. They can bring people into the unknown world.

Written on March 19, 2004 in the mountain city of Chongqing