Forty years ago, Lin's house, in what is now Section II of Hoping East Road in mid-Taipei, was surrounded by endless acres of paddyfield spotted with small ponds. Her father was always out there working, and her mother always busied with the younger kids. And Lin, left to herself, became a child of nature, in love with the beauty and tranquility of the countryside, always wandering barefoot through the fields. So begins the biography of a dancer whose life-turning and swaying, reversing and leaping, like the body assertions of her profession—has carried her into an ongoing drama, uniquely reflective both of the times and her birthplace.
She was originally born Chao Szu-tuan. Her mother divorced and remarried. But the family's life didn't change much. And after elementary school, Lin became a child worker in a canvas factory, adding her share to support of the other children. But she had a special spark. Though oppressed—a child under breadwinner pressures—and bored by her life's gray routine, she held to a Cinderella dream: She wished for a chance to go back to school.
Now confined, her admiration for nature's beauty was transferred to art. On holidays, she wandered in the many open Buddhist temples, gazing at sculptures and paintings. She knew nothing of art, but it began, by itself, to fill a void in both her emotions and dreams. She passed by classrooms of the art department of National Taiwan Normal University every day on the way to work, and her mind painted a place for herself there: a dream—Lin, another caring student in the painting class.
Then 1955 played a joke on her, but a joke with an open door. The university's art class needed a model, and Chiang Ming-teh, an art student neighbor to Lin, and his fiancee, also an art student, urged Lin to take the job. "They were serious. They lent me books and magazines dealing with the arts, even an art history of ancient Greece and Rome. They took the time to explain art to me. They took me to a class discussion and lecture.
"I cried to myself. How wonderful it was for them, to be immersed in their world of art. Gradually the thought of being there every day drew me on. I decided that being an artist's model was not at all a shameful occupation."
Lin still remembers that on the day before the Moon Festival in 1955, at the age of 16, she stepped forever out of the canvas factory and into what would prove a tempestuous career as a professional artist's model. Since that day, her life has always linked to the arts.
THIRTY years ago, Taipei was a very provincial community. Being an artist's model was really no cup of tea: Lin was subjected to disdain and ridicule in her community, and many times, fought a battle in her own heart. "I knew I could withdraw any time and return to my old work in the factory. I wanted to run, but not back there. And the shine of the arts continued to attract me." She reconfirmed her decision over and over again, and stayed with her new career despite the pressures from her family, friends, and, it often seemed, the whole of society.
Being a model was not the titillating occupation presumed by the staid Taipei society of the 1950s. For Lin it was a boring job. Each pose must be held steadily for at least twenty to thirty minutes. As time went on, besides working at the university, Lin also began posing for professional artists at private studios. But she also took the opportunity to attend art department lectures and learn from the university painting classes. Her knowledge of the arts grew, and her entire world widened.
AFTER working as an artist's model for two years, Lin experienced her first ballet. And another door was opened. But this time, no irony was involved. She still remembers the ballet, Gold and the Slave, directed by dancer Hsu Ching-haou. "The gestures were so elegant, combining with the wonderful melodies—how they stirred me." That unforgettable night, the passion and beauty of the dancing overwhelmed the eighteen-year-old girl.
She began to learn dancing, benefiting now from the flexibility of her modeling job. She was serious and learned industriously, earnestly. And she found, bemused, that the hard dance training now helped her to pose more skillfully, to enhance the artistic beauty demanded of her as an artist's model.
Lin shuttled between studios and dancing classes, until one day she got the idea of opening her own studio to help her better organize her time—and also save money for the artists. Her proposal received the support of the university art section and other artists. It was the first studio to be established by a model.
Lin held an exhibition of paintings for which she had modeled, as a studio promotion for artist-patrons. And the crisis of her life was suddenly upon her: Scandalous—a sex display! people said. And malicious criticism exploded. "I was attacked publicly, accused of scandalous behavior even by my family and some of my friends. I fell into the most terrible depression of my life." But she went on; she could not do otherwise. Only her eyes were now on ballet.
In 1965, after nine years as a model, Lin became a professional dancer, realizing a new dream, leaving, now, all the heartache and initial wonders of the modeling years behind.
Going after art, searching for beauty, had dominated the first nineteen years of her life. And now Lin, a dancer, fell in love with a highschool music teacher, Lee Che-yang.
After their marriage, he taught music, she dancing; and their footsteps carried them from concerts to dance recitals-a party of the arts.
Before her marriage, Lin had begun to dream of dance training abroad, of exotic Western countries and travel around the world. She was on fire to see the magnificent art galleries and visit the classic ruins of Western civilizations. She had come to believe she could create such opportunity with her own work.
However, in the classic tradition of Chinese women, she sacrificed her career after marriage, selling all her original plans aside to follow her husband to Keelung, north Taiwan's burgeoning, port city. Here, besides teaching dancing, Lin operated a tiny manufactory, now to help make the money to finance overseas study for her husband.
But one misfortune seemed to ride upon another. Her husband resigned his teaching job when his study program was rejected. Her little factory failed because of its ancient facilities. Then it was children. Her sister began taking care of Lin's first child so she could go on teaching dancing classes. And in a year, she was pregnant again. She continued teaching till she gave birth. But in that period, her marriage ran into deep trouble.
The distress from her marriage and material difficulties almost overwhelmed her. But she reacted as she always had, immersing herself in work.
In 1975, she had reached the point of arranging a solo dance performance. The growing spotlight relit her past—That model! Many people wondered: Can she really dance?
"I am so much an art-loving person. All those years, my life was dancing and dancing.... How could they know?
"My dance recital was a display of feeling. My creations left structure behind for a revelation of emotion.
"The solo performance was really a bold test. Some people doubted that solo dance could entertain. But, is a solo piano dull, or a violin solo monotonous? I wanted a solo performance to display my dance creations, to say to them that dance techniques are easily learned, but that the dominant dance spirit is rare and hard won."
She was concentrating on modern dance, abandoning classical ballet. She exulted in the free forms of modern dance; they transported her spirit, fired her with images.
Through this solo dance recital, Lin wanted to literally show everyone that she, demeaned model of the 1950s turned-dancer, was a talented, serious, professional artist.
And when the curtain fell and the roaring applause faded, there was a full movie ending: Lin received general public recognition. And contented, she went back to teaching dance and raising her kids.
Lin was now 35, with much experience of the vicissitudes of life-more mature as an artist and a person. And her active mind pushed her onward.
In her own social circles, Lin was now aware of many a sad story involving middle-aged women who had given all their energy, time, and money to their families. Their marriages got into trouble, and when their husbands left them alone, they could not really win either public sympathy or assistance.
Women were becoming more aware of their lives and society, and some, like Lin, determined to do something about it all.
Lin got an idea: Why not get such grief-whelmed women to dance?
"—Because dancing always soothed my sorrow and reawakened the vitality of my body when I was in a desperate mood. I was determined to share my remedy. In the past, dancing was an activity reserved for those on stage, for people with trim figures and special talent. But I went out and changed their pre-set views and invited them to dance.
"Their lives had become colorless and dull. And not only the hapless women. Many people seemed only to work to live and live to work, without recreation or joy." Lin led many women aside from their own sad footsteps.
"Life, itself, is a kind of art," she says. "Dance, is intrinsic, everyone's art. When we dance to the rhythm of music, our, bodies relax; our minds enjoy. "
Many older women joined her new dance classes. And the dancing filled them with delight. The group activity and warm atmosphere also detached them from a routine of loneliness. We need to belong.
In 1978, Lin's Life and Dance was staged by her housewives—a performance unconcerned with difficult dance techniques, seeking only plain joy and vitality. The production anticipated and inspired the island's burgeoning dance classes, now involving women of all shapes and ages.
Since involving herself in dance for housewives, Lin also revised her basic role as a dance teacher, adding now to her extensive knowledge of dancing techniques, concern for physical conditioning, for aesthetic bodily concepts, and for healthy mental altitudes.
The most important thing, for her now was the total concept. Lin kept asking questions of doctors about bone and muscle development at different ages ... about the possible linkage of group dance routines to physical and psychological therapy. She focused on children. She began to read many books on children's physical development education, and visited education centers to study teaching methods. And she developed strong beliefs.
"I think now, before teaching kids to dance, their confidence should be built, their creativity promoted, and their aesthetic concepts fostered. First of all, tots should be allowed to develop their own body languages freely, and teachers or parents only help them, encouraging kids to move in their own ways. Only after the teacher is aware of personal differences, emotions, physical development states, interests, and aptitudes should she design a special program for kids. Kids can help; they can create their own gestures to speak out their feelings."
IN October 1983, Lin stepped on an airplane to begin a one-year New York tour. Not very fluent in English and lacking sufficient funds, she cared only for her strong passion for the arts and the dream of experiencing them in the Western world.
In New York, Lin went to a dance school in the daytime, artistic displays and performances at night, and met with artist friends over the weekend, anxious for artistic messages.
When she joined the New York dance class, she was afraid her skills would not measure up. But as she first danced to the rhythm of the music, the evident approbation in the studio relieved her of all worry and doubt in that regard: "Since that moment, I have realized that dancing techniques have limits everywhere, and that I learn easily."
On her return, Lin's newest horizon has been in the possibilities of dance in working with handicapped children. On a visit to the First Children's Development Center, an education center here for mentally retarded and sometimes, also, physically handicapped children.
Lin saw, as she helped them whirl and move, smiles of pleasure illuminate their faces. She hopes that teaching them to dance will promote their physical well-being, and perhaps their mental development.
She is now busy consulting various experts to help firm her plans.
It has been a long journey for a barefoot little girl from the rice paddies.