The Love Affair of Butterflies and Flowers
A Verse for A Good Man

Zorro had arrived!

It was a dead end in China in 1991. I had been struggling for seven years at the 'Normal University' located in the remote countryside. While faint rays of hope would occasionally appear, the breakthrough thunderbolt arrived with Mr. Manfred Schoeni.

I forget the exact time but vaguely remember that Lu Jie (now the chairman of Long March Art Foundation), who was one of the first freelance critics and art agents after China opened her doors, had been looking for me without much luck. At that time, we were only able to communicate via public telephones and letters. Furthermore, I was constantly on the move, as I would often go back to Qingdao to visit my mother. He together with Schoeni (we called him Schoeni, as we were not familiar with his Chinese name) had called on me in vain several times. Finally, when Schoeni did see all of my finished works since my graduation from the art academy in 1985 (a total of forty works, large and small, were bunched together in a studio barely 10 square metres large), he was amazed. His eyes twinkled and he kept repeating the words "very good" over and over again. I explained to him that since some of my earlier works were not intended for sale, they had been painted on scraps of canvas. He empathised with my situation - he was also a painter, who painted after 9 p.m. every night. He showed me photographs of his works, some of which were ornate, oil paintings of ladies. As a man who believed in always putting himself on the line for his friends, I felt extremely privileged to meet him and Lu Jie. We were on the same wavelength and our conversations became increasingly multi-faceted. He took photographs of all my paintings and gleefully showed them to every person he met, as if to say, "See, look what I've found!"

Later, he came to see me accompanied by his mentor. His mentor was an eighty-year-old Swiss painter and sculptor, named Gerard Bregnard, a small man with a white goatee. He wanted to make his mentor happy because the old man's wife had just passed away. Schoeni was taken by surprise, however, when his mentor fell in love with his Chinese female interpreter, who was in her mid twenties. This Chinese girl felt the same way about his mentor and they were soon married. Shortly after, the happy couple settled down near the beautiful Lake Geneva. When we dined together, Schoeni winked at me with those glinting eyes, smiling happily, even pulling faces, as if to imply, "Look how unpredictable life can be sometimes?"

One particular incident left me with a lasting impression of Schoeni's kindness. Once in my studio, as he was absently flicking through a book about Hungary in 1956, he became upset by the photographs of corpses being brutally assaulted. He commented, "How can man do such things?" Yes, indeed, how can they? I believe that in his last minutes Schoeni must have acted like a true hero, as he faced those thugs. It was said that there were traces of a struggle at the scene. I firmly believe that he would have preferred to have died fighting to the bitter end. I got to know him well through our dealings. He never let other people's comments bother him, including those of art critics, nor did he require any advisors. If it were possible, he would not even use an interpreter, nor did he pay any attention to established concepts, trends or art traditions. His own standards set the pace. To him, the best works constituted those, which he loved personally.

When Schoeni came to Shanghai again, he invited me to the Holiday Inn Hotel. He was fond of staying in that three-star hotel, preferring its convenient location and good service to luxury. We made a toast to each other. He had my paintings, and promised to help me with a number of solo exhibitions, catalogues, as well as trips to Hong Kong. I even managed to stay in the first batch of apartment blocks for foreigners that the Republic had built.

This all took place in the spring of 1992.

Schoeni invited the famous editor, silk clothing collector and expert on China, Mr. Don J. Cohn, to fly to Shanghai from his hometown Hong Kong, in order to discuss with me how my catalogue should be edited. Mr. Cohn brought with him four big bottles of distilled water. At that time, Shanghai was famous for its murky, white water and distilled water was not yet common. Mr. Cohn and I hit it off like old acquaintances, chatting away in a guest room of the Garden Hotel. A clever and astute polymath, Mr. Cohn and his collection deeply impressed me. We became friends. He and his wife contributed greatly to the bilingual translation of my catalogue.

Schoeni then came to Shanghai with several friends. One of them impressed me by wearing a Buddhist relic on his neck. Schoeni showed me several samples of catalogue designs, as he wanted my opinion. He had commissioned the best design firm in Hong Kong for the project. The most outstanding sample was one that had my black and white portrait printed on the cover. It was made from a particular type of thick, Japanese, sulfuric acid paper, bound by a hard cover, with my paintings inside. The photograph was taken by Schoeni and showed me wearing a pair of his sunglasses. The pair of sunglasses had been made to look translucent, so as to give the reader an insight into the colourful pictures, revealed in the following pages. The layout and the background colour of each page were designed according to the individual paintings. Even though the design industry has rapidly since developed then, this catalogue still stands out as much today as it did in the past. One could not ask for more than what was accomplished, a combination of excellent editorial and magnificent printing. No wonder that someone jealously remarked at the time: "One only deserves such a catalogue for a retrospective exhibition!" Proudly, I randomly selected an oil brush and signed my name ¨C Liu Da Hong.

I made my first overseas trip in the autumn of 1992, crossing the bridge of Lo Wu into Hong Kong. Mr. Dave Kwan, the manager, greeted me as promised at the gate. We were formerly introduced after I had stayed at the Century Hotel in Wanchai for a few days. On the top floor of the former Bank of China Building the China Club boasted a full house. A waiter commented that he had never seen the club so bustling since its establishment. This private club, where entry is normally restricted to the upper echelons of society, was now full to the rafters with people from all walks of life. Everyone was present, not merely officials and members of high society, but also professors from the University of Hong Kong, in addition to esteemed scholars from the remote Chinese University of Hong Kong and the Research Centre of Chinese Culture. Serious art critics, famous artists, authors, editors and experienced reporters all attended the event. Words of praise could be heard ringing in every corner. This not only sanctioned my heartfelt work, but also that of Schoeni's, praising him for his keen eye and dedication. He was after all an accomplished professional who always strove for perfection. Another gallery owner who had also approached me before confided in me how he wished he had the energy to carry off such a project. Mr. Chang Tsong-zung, of Hanart Gallery, had the required energy but Schoeni had got there first. Instead he just bought my work Four Seasons in the exhibition and put it into his series of Political Pop. The arrival of Schoeni, the Zorro of the art world, really stunned people. When Mr. Achille Bonito Oliva, the curator of 45^th Venice Biennale (Visual Arts), selected me for the exhibition only to find my studio empty, it became legendary. After this incident was spread further by gossip and the press in Hong Kong, a third space was immediately created in the Chinese art arena. In fact, this space was created single-handedly by Schoeni the good fellow. Numerous artists told me that he was the best art dealer they had ever met in terms of his work ethic and his reputation amongst his peers.

On the day of exhibition opening, his whole family - including his wife and daughter - together with all of Schoeni's employees (who actually worked in the antique furniture business back then) arrived at the venue. Nicole, Schoeni's beloved daughter, looked so much like her father. She was responsible for counting the number of guests, using a counter that Schoeni had given her, and then reporting back to her father. Now she has taken over her father's business. I believe that all of Schoeni's efforts in priming his daughter for this role will not be wasted, and I wish her every success. Wai Yin, her beautiful mother, drove me around to go sightseeing. Through our conversation, I came to understand why Schoeni had thanked his wife and daughter for their support in my catalogue. His business in the antique furniture business was prosperous. Yet running a gallery presented an entirely new risk. Though his wife was worried, she knew that no one could change Schoeni's mind once it was set. Taking up new challenges one after another was an intrinsic part of Schoeni's character. As a young man he had started off as a waiter, then he bought a vineyard, and ran a French restaurant at an enchanting Eastern Orthodox Church in Shanghai...he quickly progressed through the ranks. The staff that adored him said he would succeed in whatever he did.

This was the very first collaboration between three friends ¨C Schoeni, Lu Jie and I. The success of this project in Hong Kong had caused some echoes on the Mainland.

Following this, Schoeni travelled all over the mainland like a knight on horseback.

Schoeni was amused to find that there were forgeries of my paintings at airports and looked forward to viewing my new works. 1997 was approaching and Hong Kong would soon be returned to China. The Hong Kong people were very worried. The trip to Hong Kong inspired me to create the piece entitled The Love Affair of Butterflies and Flowers. I adapted the scroll format of The Night Banquet of Han Xi Zai to depict Hong Kong as the bride of the Mainland. Schoeni was very taken with the idea and brought me painting materials of the highest quality. He loved the finished seven-scroll work so much that he carried it onto the plane himself. During the Asian Art Expo in 1993, long queues of visitors stood outside waiting to view the work. Schoeni accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Chris Patten to see the painting. The press enthusiastically featured it, while articles and poems were written in dedication of the piece. Later, the painting was included in the large, touring Chinese contemporary art exhibition called "China!", which was organised by the Modern Art Museum, in Bonn, and was exhibited in countries such as Singapore and Denmark, before finally arriving in Berlin, where Schoeni's native tongue, German, is spoken. I wish to dedicate The Love Affair of Butterflies and Flowers, which brought us such glory, to the friendship Schoeni and I shared.

That was our second collaboration, which was well received in Asia and celebrated all over the world.

The third venture was the official grand opening of The Schoeni Gallery in Beijing. Many excellent artists took part in the exhibition. Like a typhoon, he swept through the art world during the 90s, influencing the direction of many artists and the art scene as a whole.

'Once the leading horse had fallen, his followers erred, their path abandoned.' With respect, I would like to dedicate our three collaborations to the late Mr. Manfred Schoeni - the Zorro of the art world.

Liu Da Hong
June, 2004