The Liu Haisu Art Museum in Hongqiao area of Shanghai is holding a retro show of Qi's works until November 26.

Born in a peasant family in Xiangtan, central China's Hunan Province, Qi was a weak child and was deemed unsuitable for the back-breaking farm work. So, at the age of eight, his father made him an apprentice of carpentry.

His experience in fine carving and cabinet-making helped him to develop his own style in later years. Some critics say that each stroke of Qi's brush moves like a sculptor's chisel, carving the strokes into the paper. It's unsurprising that Qi is also noted as a marvelous seal cutter.

"I learned finger-painting in my childhood; landscape painting after 30; and specialized in flowers, insects and birds after 40," Qi once said.

However, it was the work he created after reaching 40 that made his reputation - for then he resolved to paint "all the insects and birds on earth."

Searching for the finest quality rice paper, Qi visited many of China's famous scenic spots, broadening his scope of vision.

Under the influence of the Chan monk Xu Gu (1823-1896), Qi created his own style - a swift, spontaneous and emotional brush stroke, accompanied with forceful ink splashes.

However, due to his lack of formal education, plus a style totally different from his predecessors, he didn't gain recognition until he was 60. It's said that Qi's best works were done when he was between 70 and 80 years old.

Today, his paintings routinely fetch high prices at auction, and those of his later years are especially highly sought-after. One series, "The Mustard Seed Garden," featuring flowers, trees and rocks, has become a standard example taught in Chinese art schools.

In 1952, Qi was appointed honorary professor of the Central Academy of Fine Arts, Beijing. In 1954, he was elected as a deputy to the First National People's Congress. A year later, Qi was awarded the World Peace Prize by the World Peace Council.

Today, his most renowned paintings depict shrimps and chrysanthemums. Many of his paintings are so life-like that they seem almost fresh with dew. Yet far from depicting the mundane world, his brush captured elements that most people ignore in their daily life. Perhaps that's Qi Baishi's spell - "a poem in a brush stroke."

(www.eastday.com 11/10/2000)