Man on the Street: Reproduction Painter

By Adam Robbins, January 18, 2018

Man on the Street is a regular series where we talk to someone doing an everyday job, in order to gain insight into the lives of normal Chinese people.

Nestled near the Guanlan River in the northern reaches of Shenzhen, past the bustle and din of construction and traffic, the urban explorer can rest a moment with the ‘Master of Eternal Happiness Studio.’

That’s the oh-so-modest pseudonym of Chen Shengxian, who opened shop in Guanlan Village nearly 20 years ago. A Hakka from eastern Guandong, he married a pragmatic Cantonese wife and settled into the artist’s life.

“That’s guohua” (native style), he explains, gesturing to the wide canvasses of horses and rolling mountains detailed with calligraphic flourish. They dominate the small studio’s walls, hung vertically or horizontally as space allows.

Closer to the entrance hang the faces of Zhou Enlai, Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping. “That’s tanjinfen” (charcoal). Colored charcoal dust gives a soft-focus depiction of the faces of the old leaders, their black eyes and the blues of the old Zhongshan suits.

“That’s for a customer whose father passed away.” The face on the easel with the Mona Lisa smile is nearly complete, nearly identical to the photo it was created from, as are all the portraits in the studio.

“This paper is for couplets on the side of the door. What do you call that in English?” We have to explain that we don’t have a name for that. He looks at us with pity in his eyes.

From his little refuge, Chen has watched Guanlan Village change through the years, invaded by the encroaching city. And when Beijing named its new leader, he dutifully added the man’s portrait to the mix. But though we saw it unobtrusively stationed outside the shop last month, now we spy him tucked high on the wall behind the door. ‘Why’s that?’ we inquire.

Chen’s wife now joins us, with a tiny boy in tow. He sits behind the wide table like his grandpa, kicks off his Mickey Mouse sandals and starts to play with a tape measure. Chen Taitai just laughs.

“There’s no room to put all the paintings!”

She gives us the low down on the market for the portraits, who’s in and who’s out. “Mao, of course, [is the most popular] and Deng. Both of those are really good. Nobody wants Zhou Enlai.” There’s a pause to reflect. “People do want Xi, too.”

At RMB600 for an 8-inch by 10-inch of Zhou, we can’t really blame them. His caption lists him as a diplomat, statesman and “respected member of the proletariat.” Elsewhere in China Mao’s longtime premier might be remembered fondly for protecting relics during the Cultural Revolution. But not here.

“They’re different prices, based on size. Of course the larger ones are more expensive,” she explains. “Come on.”

But it’s only the rare neighbor or tourist who stops in for an icon of the Great Helmsman. “We mostly sell to businesses and rich people,” she confides, looking up at the huge canvasses that support the family.

Countless reproductions of photos and famous paintings might not be the most creative output, but Master of Eternal Happiness Studio is clearly proud of his work.

Yet when he considers his meticulous, photorealistic portrait of Qi Baishi, with wrinkles curving in soulful depth around the eyes, he’s all modesty. “I’m nothing like this guy – his paintings sell for millions!”