Graceful and quietly radiant, Peng Yamei lives up to her name. Like clay undergoing a demanding transformation — kneaded, pounded, shaped, glazed, and fired at over a thousand degrees — her life, too, has been forged in trials and tempered through perseverance.
Leaving the classroom to follow her calling
From a young age, Peng Yamei loved to paint. After graduating from the Fine Arts Department at Shih Chien College, she became a teacher at Daming Vocational School in Taichung. But she described herself as a “wild mare” (a play on her name in Taiwanese) — too spirited for a conventional life. Just one year in, she realized she couldn’t suppress her creative drive. Determined to “do something for herself before getting married,” she made the bold choice to resign.
Her mother, who had worked so hard to see her daughter land a stable job, was devastated. For a year, she barely spoke to Peng, unable to understand why anyone would give up a secure future for the sake of ceramics.
But Peng’s father, a romantic who loved classical music, coffee, and elegant clothes, became her greatest source of strength. “We spend our lives searching for passion,” he told her. “You’ve already found yours. Go for it.”
Starting from scratch and building a name
Peng Yamei returned to her hometown of Hualien and rented a run-down Japanese-style wooden house with no electricity or water. “I still remember when the landlord opened the door,” she said. “Sunlight poured in through the cracks — and I just knew. This was it.”
She had no money for renovations, so she climbed, hammered, and painted everything herself. Equipment costs were higher than expected, and she hadn’t even accounted for shipping fees.
To support her creative work, she founded Tao Ran Studio and began teaching pottery classes. With a modest income from teaching, she funded her own exhibitions and competitions. She also tapped into skills inherited from her seamstress mother, creating hand-dyed clothing to help make ends meet.
Finding strength through heartbreak
The road was never easy — especially for a woman in the male-dominated world of sculpture. After marrying, Peng Yamei poured herself into the roles of wife, mother, and daughter-in-law. She worked nonstop, from morning until her child fell asleep at night, with barely a moment to rest.
Then, after more than a decade, her marriage fell apart. It was the darkest period of her life, and she nearly lost her way.
Just then, the Tzu Chi Foundation purchased a series of her works for their Jing Si Hall, offering her financial relief and a ray of hope.
Reflecting on that time, she says: “I’m grateful for it. I was too naive and romantic back then. That hardship gave me a new perspective and helped me see myself more clearly.”
A new chapter and a companion for life
In time, Peng Yamei met Professor Hsu Yi-Chung of Dong Hwa University, who deeply admired her and treated her and her son with great care. But having cried all her tears, she was afraid to love again.
Then Hsu was diagnosed with two forms of cancer. Peng Yamei set aside everything to care for him. “Why would heaven send me such a good person only to take him away?” she cried.
Through the ordeal, she realized how much he meant to her — and how rare such love was.
After his recovery, Hsu proposed, saying: “First, I want to make sure you’ll have some savings if I go first. Second, I hope that someday, we can be buried together.”
Moved to tears, she accepted. After years of walking alone, Peng Yamei had finally found someone to walk beside her.
A decade of growth and international recognition
Professor Hsu, an internationally recognized scholar in national park management, encouraged Peng Yamei to accompany him on travels to Scandinavia, the U.S., and beyond. Surrounded by forests, rivers, and balanced ecosystems, she found renewed inspiration.
In the shaded corner of a forest, she encountered a fern — small, fragile, yet thriving with just a bit of water and light. In it, she saw herself during her darkest days.
Her early work focused on the human form, but now she turned to sculpting ferns. “I didn’t marry you to have someone to cook my meals,” Hsu told her. “Why not test your art on the international stage?”
Spurred on, Peng Yamei entered competitions both at home and abroad. Her honors include:
- 2014: Selected for the Springfield Art Association Annual Show (USA) and Gold Coast Ceramic Art Award (Australia)
- 2015: Special Jury Prize, Taiwan Ceramic Awards
- 2016: Selected for the Taiwan International Ceramic Biennale
- 2017: Special Jury Prize, Taiwan Ceramic Art Awards; finalist in Gualdo Tadino International Ceramics Competition (Italy)
- 2018: Selected for L’Alcora Ceramic Awards and Collections (Spain)
“A decade of hard work — I’m deeply grateful,” she said. “My fern sculptures have become a signature. When people see them, they see me.”
Earthquake and loss, but not defeat
In 2017, one of her fern pieces selected for the Italian competition arrived slightly cracked. Organizers wrote: “We love your work. Can you send another?” But Peng Yamei was in Turkey at the time and couldn’t. Still, they replied: “We’ll keep your award and exhibit it as is.”
“I was moved,” she said. “They respected the artist. I realized — even brokenness has meaning.”
The following year, moments after learning she’d been selected for a prestigious show in Spain, she received devastating news: a powerful earthquake had struck Hualien. Her studio was destroyed, her works reduced to shards.
Returning home, she said goodbye to her shattered creations with gratitude. “This will pass,” she told herself.
Starting over with light and strength
Pottery is fragile, and life is short. Peng Yamei began to wonder — what materials could let her art endure for centuries?
Thanks to the support of a biotech CEO who collected her public artwork, and savings from her son postponing overseas study during the pandemic, she poured her resources into a new venture.
In early 2023, she launched her “As If There Were Light” exhibition. Combining stainless steel and copper in her new Wind and Cloud series, she shocked the Taiwanese ceramic world.
“I know I’m one of the few artists working with stainless steel in ceramics. It marks a new milestone in Taiwan’s public art,” she said. “The future holds many challenges, but I’m ready.”
The exhibition’s name, taken from Tao Yuanming’s Peach Blossom Spring, symbolizes Hualien’s resilience after natural disasters — a quiet light blooming anew.
“Some say there’s a thin line between artists and madness. Will anyone collect this? What happens after the show? I told myself: ‘Don’t think about it. If I do, I’ll lose courage. So I spent every penny. I started from zero.”
Pushing forward with no limits
Looking back, Peng Yamei says her perseverance has always come from an inner passion that never dimmed. The life of an artist is difficult — she endured financial strain, spinal injuries, and repeated shoulder dislocations, sometimes needing to wear a brace just to work.
As a young woman, she protested environmental destruction — watching mountains leveled and coasts scarred by industry. But she knew education was the key to real change.
In her classes, she didn’t just teach pottery. She taught respect for nature, for beauty, and for the world. She encouraged students to go abroad, to expand their horizons.
In 2017, she was invited to exhibit at the Presidential Palace Art Gallery. Speaking to young artists, she emphasized: “Culture and art are an extension of a nation’s strength.” She called on the government to support Taiwan’s next generation in bringing their voices to the world.
There are no limits to life. In her creative journey, Peng Yamei is always searching for that quiet light. She falls and rises, dries her tears, and moves forward — grateful for every trial that shaped her into who she is today.
Translated by Katy Liu
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