Brushstrokes of courage

Xu Fengying, a 79-year-old from rural Shanghai, never imagined she would become an oil painter. Yet, a decade ago, she picked up a brush for the first time and began an extraordinary new chapter in her life.

In late May, more than 150 of her oil paintings were exhibited at a gallery in Beijing, drawing praise from artists, academics and visitors alike.

Born in Zhujiajiao, an ancient water town in Shanghai's Qingpu district, Xu has spent most of her life as a farmer in a nearby village. Her paintings portray the surrounding landscapes, the rhythms of rural life and the people she has known over the years.

Using the artistic language of Western oil painting, she gently narrates nostalgic life stories in the context of Chinese modernization.

Her canvases capture the seasons of village life — spring planting, summer blossoms, autumn harvests, and winter stillness — while also documenting close-knit communities, the happiness of older residents and the transformation of China's countryside.

The warmth and bright colors of her paintings offer little hint of the hardships she endured for much of her life.

Born in 1947 into a poor family, Xu lost her father at the age of 4. She spent much of her childhood moving from place to place before returning to her hometown at 13. By the age of 7, she was already rowing boats to help earn a living, beginning a lifelong struggle to improve her circumstances.

Life gradually improved in the early 1990s, when her two children completed their studies and began supporting the family. As China's rural development accelerated, her old house in Linjia village was renovated, becoming a comfortable home for Xu, her daughter and son-in-law in 2009.

The event that ultimately led her to painting, however, came unexpectedly. In 2016, Xu was diagnosed with colorectal cancer and underwent surgery. Accustomed to constant work, she returned to farm labor shortly after the operation, causing complications that required a second procedure.

Determined to keep her from overexerting herself again, her family encouraged her to find a hobby. They suggested painting. In December that year, Xu began her first oil painting, depicting a group of large trees outside her home.

"Those trees were about to be cut down. I wanted to record them and the scene on canvas," recalls Xu.

The work took nearly a month to complete.

Largely self-taught, Xu learned through trial and error, seeking advice whenever she encountered professional painters. She found oil painting forgiving and practical. If a stroke doesn't work, the painter can scrape it away, correct it, and continue, she says.

"The challenge was mastering color. Mixing the right colors is the hardest part. Paint is expensive, and it used to take me at least two hours to create the shades I wanted," says Xu.

Though she has never received formal training, her work has won widespread admiration. At the recent Beijing exhibition, visitors and professional artists praised her paintings. Some even asked for her advice on color mixing, while a university professor purchased several of her works.

The experience left Xu both delighted and energized. Although she did not particularly enjoy painting at first, she gradually discovered a sense of fulfillment in the process. Seeing villagers, tourists and visitors from around the world respond to her work with appreciation has deepened her commitment.

For Xu, painting is a way of preserving life as she remembers it and as she experiences it today. Alongside her favorite subjects — flowers, waterways and village scenes — she has set an ambitious goal: completing 100 paintings of old bridges. So far, she has finished 12.

"The bridges don't have to be in Shanghai," she says with a smile.

"I hope to travel to more places and paint the bridges — and maybe the trees and other things — that I love."

As Xu embraces this unexpected second act, her story continues to inspire people far beyond her village. Her daughter, Chen Junfang, recalls a visit several years ago from an elderly mathematician from Sichuan province who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

"He was under enormous stress," Chen says.

"My mother simply told him, 'It's no big deal.' Those simple words eased his anxiety. He relaxed and smiled again."

Living with Xu in the village, Chen and her husband are delighted to see the mother flourishing in later life. They hope to support her creative work, help her travel more widely, and organize additional exhibitions to share her uplifting paintings with a broader audience.

"My mother proves that it is never too late to learn," Chen says.

"In many ways, she is living out a dream I once had myself."