Raising the aesthetic consciousness of the youth of Shanghai is the ambition of a cook-cum-painter who has set up the city's first children's artistic imagination center, writes Wang Jie.

　　A good cook is anxious to please the taste buds whereas a creative painter tries to please the eyes. And Zhou Wenfu excels at both.

　　"I have been a cook for 11 years," says Zhou proudly. "My best dish was fried shrimps and it even won one of the top prizes in a Shanghai cooking competition."

　　At first sight, the 40-something lanky man appears introverted. If time could be turned back for 20 years, the young cook could remind people of Julian in "Rouge et Noir" who keeps his mouth shut about his big ambitions.

　　But just how long is the road from being a cook to becoming an artist is a question only Zhou can answer.

　　At his solo exhibition now running on Wanhangdu Road, Zhou appears calm and is a lot different from artists who often overact when receiving visitors.

　　Likewise, Zhou's artworks, whether watercolors, oils or ink-washes, are "quiet" and "intricate."

　　This description certainly applies to his series of watercolors featuring scenes of life in a watertown in South China. Frankly speaking, making a Chinese watertown and its canals the subject of a series of paintings isn't an easy one, not least because so many artists have already done it.

　　However under Zhou's brush, the depiction is different.

　　The special arrangements, the brown and dark hues or the painstaking lines present the image of a bygone picture and they remind one of scenes described in old novels. And there is something melancholy in Zhou's art that will suddenly touch a viewer's heart.

　　"I began to learn painting when I was a little kid," says Zhou. "Even after I became a cook, I didn't give it up."

　　But standing every day beside an oven and cooking dishes of meat and fish could have drained the artist out of Zhou.

　　"Luckily, I am a stubborn man," he says. "Sometimes that can be a bad thing but my desire to paint was a neverending power inside me."

　　However, painting alone wasn't enough for him to implement his big plan. In 1990, Zhou quit his job and set up the city's first children's artistic imagination center.

　　His reasoning was simple: "Today all kinds of examinations and tests have smothered the imagination of children in China."

　　Zhou hoped that his center could be a place where kids could play happily with no restrictions or rules and regulations.

　　"I have to admit that my concept was very new at that time," he says. "I didn't teach them to pass any test, instead I tried to get them to realize their potential and their creativity. I was sure it would be helpful in their future life and work."

　　That time, Zhou's cooking experience came in handy.

　　For example, at "bread parties" or "noodle parties" he invited children to make the bread or noodles into whatever shapes they wanted and then they would dine together.

　　However, local parents were more accustomed to seeing their children being taught something in class and not "joyful play."

　　"Nearly 80 percent of the students 'escaped' after the first session," Zhou recalls.

　　But his natural stubbornness stopped him from giving up. He visited each family and convinced them to send their children back to him because he convinced them that he was doing something meaningful for the benefit of the next generation.

　　"Just look at the businessmen or entrepreneurs around us today, how many of them can really appreciate art?" he laments. "I am an artist myself, and I am desperate to find an audience for art."

　　Without sufficient money and even a fixed venue, Zhou continued on his self-appointed mission.

　　Swimming pools, underground parking lots and warehouses were his classrooms. Painting, sound, images and verbal language enabled the children to see a new world.

　　After 15 years, his center has won the acceptance of local parents and it has also attracted children from Singapore and Japan.

　　"We still can't make ends meet," he says, "but earning money is not that important."

　　Although his responsibilities in the center take away some of his painting time, he doesn't regret it.

　　"My paintings sell well," he says. "So when my son complains about my not having improved our living conditions I just return to my painting. I have fairly low desires for material things."

　　Cooking has now become just a hobby for Zhou but sometimes at weekends he cooks up treats for his family and friends.

　　"I don't see that cooking and art are two separate things," Zhou says with a smile. "For me, they are both a mixture of different sources. The knack is how to melt them together artistically."

　　Date: through August 28, 10am-7pm

　　Address: 2453 Wanhangdu Rd

　　Tel: 5272-5163