We met the sculptor on the streets of Xi’An, right outside the Big Goose Pagoda. He had an old bike, which reminded me of the one my dad used to ride around town with me sitting in front. A simple rack held 20 or so figurines made out of dough, mostly famous leaders and comedians, a few of the current premier, and a very lifelike one of Yao Ming. A crowd of about 20 surrounded him as he worked on a figure for a girl based on an iPhone photo of her boyfriend. She was not easy to please, objecting to this and that. He quietly obliged, only occasionally objecting to say it would not look like the photo if he made the face too skinny, or ears too big.
I’ve always wanted one of these figurines. It’s one of those lost art forms that I’ve read about in many novels, and this was the first time I’ve ever encountered an artisan on the street. We were on our way to the last musical fountain showing at the Big Goose Pagoda, so I asked how long he would stay, then hurried away. When we came back half an hour later, he was still there, working on the same person he had started when we left. We waited patiently for him to finish so he can start one for me, but the city patrol came to chase him away. He obeyed without much fuss, gesturing for me to come with him as he moves away from the main street. To my surprise, the crowd also followed, a group of a dozen or so, walking slowly behind his rackety bike, looking back and offering advice on where he should stop and continue his work. I guess I’m not the only one intrigued by his art.
It took us a few more tries before finding a bus stop with bright enough light and no cops around to chase us away, and he was finally able to continue. He started with the shape of my face. He doesn’t talk at all, but a slight smile never leaves his face as he works. I ask him where he learned his craft, to which he replied he just started doing it for fun. He had been a cook, but now this is his full time job. It takes him about 45 minutes to make a figure (unlike his estimate of 20-30 minutes), and he charges 30RMB, the equivalent of $5 USD. On a good day he will have 5 or 6 customers. Most of the time he has trouble finding a place to set up shop since the city patrol people will always chase him away or ask for money he doesn’t have.
It’s a bit awkward to have not just him, but a curious crowd of people staring at me, following along to see whether he’s doing a good job. You can tell from his eyes how much he loves what he’s doing, focusing on each detail, working slowly and carefully, not rushing at all even though he had other customers waiting in line. When he finally put the finishing touches on my hair, he presented the figurine to me and I took it with anticipation. Well, I have to say I was a bit disappointed. It looked like me somewhat, but not really. You can’t really say it was one thing or another that wasn’t right, but I looked older, more serious. II smiled politely and thanked him, and walked away with the sculpture of my 40 year old self.
I’m not sure why I had the sudden urge to write down this brief encounter. The man was a street artisan with limited talent and probably doesn’t have grand dreams of becoming anything great. But there was something special about him, the quiet way he showed how much he loved his craft, and contentment that shined through his smile. He may not be remembered by many for his art, but I wanted to remember him for reminding me how easy it is to be content.
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