"What is beauty? What is love? What does it mean to hibernate in the shadows"
Article By: Wu Tong
From Shanghai Observer
7th November, 2024
Can Yu Xiuhua, who walks with an unsteady gait, really dance?
Stepping into Suzhou Bay Grand Theatre, where rehearsals for her poetry-dance production "Ten Thousand Tons of Moonlight" are underway, Yu Xiuhua moves slowly forward, stooping to pick up scattered roses from the floor, one by one.
Raising her hands above her head with effort, she sketches out wobbly arcs, like a black bird struggling to flap its injured wings. Even when utterly exhausted, she recites her poetry with strength, each word resonant:
"Yet I must live / Like red persimmons crowning autumn's hills / Waiting for you to pass by, to drop on your head / I force you to tumble down with me / From the threshing ground, from the hillside, from flames / Only by slamming our fists against life's sharp edge, can we catch/ The fallen leaves covering the mountains."
Born with cerebral palsy, Yu's physical disability makes even simple movements arduous, as though summoning the strength of a thousand weights. Performing a six-minute solo dance tests her very limits. After completing it, she collapses on the floor, drenched in sweat.
"I sweat a lot these days—maybe it's menopause," she says, gasping. "I thought I'd memorised the moves, but I still made a few mistakes. I feel ashamed and frustrated."
Before this project, Yu had never imagined herself dancing on stage. Then, one day, Farooq Chaudhry, a British dance producer, travelled halfway across the world to her village in Hengdian, Shihpai Town, Zhongxiang City, Hubei Province, and knocked on her door.
Farooq had discovered Yu's poetry years ago and felt a deep connection. He wanted to "translate" her poetry into dance. "Her genius lies in her ability to convey complex emotions through simple words. She never hides her struggles or vulnerabilities, prompting me to reflect: What is beauty? What is love? What hibernates in the shadows?"
During two weeks in Hengdian, Farooq and movement coach Xu Suman explored the possibilities of Yu's body. Farooq, who has collaborated with world-class dancers, and Xu, who has coached stars like Juliette Binoche, weren't looking for perfection. "What I seek is imperfection," Farooq said. "I believe the most beautiful aspect of humanity is its imperfection. To be loved, not for one's perfection, but for one's flaws—that is true beauty."
Yet, when rehearsals began, Yu realised that dancing was far harder than writing poetry. Repeating movements countless times to overcome physical barriers and deviations was painstaking. In April, during a preview performance in London, Yu cried afterward, blaming herself for not keeping up with the choreography. She considered quitting but worried about leaving Farooq and the other performers stranded.
Yu shares the stage with two professional dancers, Jin Hua (Jilan Dong) and Li Kehua. Their near-perfect physiques, honed by years of training, starkly contrast Yu's. Yet Jin says she was deeply moved the first time she saw Yu dance, leading her to question: What is dance? What is art? How can it truly reach an audience?
"It's not the movements that matter," Li Kehua says, "but the energy. Yu possesses an energy that pierces straight to the heart." Dancing with Yu has also taught her to slow down. "I used to rush for answers. Now, I think it's okay to take things slower. Maybe better answers will come in time."
"Ten Thousand Tons of Moonlight" will premiere at the Theatre YOUNG from November 15–17, with plans for an international tour next year. Yu writes:
"From disability/ She retrieves a dancer on light feet/ She dances in the dark night , A red shadow flung before him/ From weariness/ She retrieves for him a self that endlessly spins."
We Are All Actors in This World
Shanghai Observer: What made you decide to take up dancing?
Yu Xiuhua: Because Farooq and the other creators kept communicating with me. They made a lot of effort in the early stages, even going to Hengdian to find me. They seemed to think I was suitable. Honestly, I've always been too lazy to exercise, spending my days lying at home. They said that dancing would at least get my body moving, so I agreed.
Shanghai Observer: Do you enjoy being in the rehearsal room?
Yu Xiuhua: I really enjoy the process. I like the feeling of sweating. For a disabled body like mine to perform these movements is already a huge affirmation. But sometimes, when I can't remember the moves, I feel deeply ashamed.
Shanghai Observer: Have you discovered new possibilities in your body?
Yu Xiuhua: No, I just hope to get rid of this body sooner and exchange it for another one.
Shanghai Observer: Do you feel that your soul is trapped by your body?
Yu Xiuhua: Yes. I used to think seriously about this question. I believe the relationship between the soul and the body is one of mutual selection.
It's not that the soul rejects this body—perhaps it specifically needs this body. But if you gained too much in a previous life, this life forces you to experience something different. Maybe that's the reason.
Shanghai Observer: What kind of body and soul do you think you had in your previous life?
Yu Xiuhua: In my previous life, I was a promiscuous woman, hahaha.
Shanghai Observer: And in this life, you're also a promiscuous woman.
Yu Xiuhua: Yes, but the circumstances don't allow it, you know? My soul is promiscuous, but my body can't keep up. That's the contradiction between the two.
Shanghai Observer: How do you deal with this contradiction?
Yu Xiuhua: By drinking. But it's still painful, really painful. The stronger the conflict, the more painful it becomes.
Shanghai Observer: Is alcohol the cure for your troubles?
Yu Xiuhua: There's no such thing as a cure in this world.
Shanghai Observer: On stage, do you feel like you are an actress or Yu Xiuhua?
Yu Xiuhua: Whatever I do, I am Yu Xiuhua. Whether I'm dancing, writing poetry, or doing anything else, it's always me. I've never thought of myself as having a separate persona.
Shanghai Observer: I can't remember which of your books I read it in, but you said that we all live in this world as actors.
Yu Xiuhua: Yes, every one of us is an actor. It all depends on which stage light shines on whom, and who gets seen by others. But even those in the audience will, at some moment, be accidentally illuminated by the light. It's just a matter of whether you get the chance to be noticed.
Shanghai Observer: So, on the stage of life, how do you play the role of Yu Xiuhua well?
Yu Xiuhua: I've never aimed to play the role of Yu Xiuhua well. I always feel that being Yu Xiuhua is exhausting. I've always been lazy, and this year I'm even lazier.
Shanghai Observer: Why have you become lazier?
Yu Xiuhua: I actually talked about this with a friend just yesterday. I was very diligent as a child, even in my studies. It's only in the past couple of years that I've become lazy. I just feel a bit weary, a bit tired.
Shanghai Observer: But I see that you're anything but lazy in the rehearsal room—sweating profusely and putting so much effort into every move, doing your best. Has dancing rekindled your passion for life?
Yu Xiuhua: I'm really just trying to cooperate with everyone else. What else could I do? If I walked away, what would Farooq do?
Shanghai Observer: You care a lot about the people around you?
Yu Xiuhua: I think if they ever truly offended me, I'd leave, haha. But it's not that I care too much; it's just that when people like Kehua, Jinhua, and everyone else are working so hard on this, you simply can't walk away. You have to do your best. I think they're so earnest, and that's a quality I don't have.
Shanghai Observer: Do you think people should live more earnestly and with determination, or more freely and casually?
Yu Xiuhua: It doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter. Whether you live earnestly or casually, we'll all die in the end. Everyone has their own choice. Even if you're rich or famous, it's all the same—we all end up in the same place.
Shanghai Observer: So why do we live?
Yu Xiuhua: We live for the sake of living.
I Am Always in a State of Unfulfillment
Shanghai Observer: You always seem to be in a state of dissatisfaction. Do you think your dancing looks good?
Yu Xiuhua: Kehua and Jinhua both dance beautifully. My dancing doesn't look good at all—it's worlds apart.
Shanghai Observer: In the past, we had stereotypes about dance, thinking that dancers needed long legs, long arms, and small heads to look graceful. But now there's a trend toward greater acceptance of all kinds of body types—anyone can dance.
Yu Xiuhua: Yes, I saw a chubby girl on Douyin dancing on ice, and I thought it was incredibly beautiful. I really enjoy watching others dance. You wouldn't think her body was unattractive—it's stunning.
Shanghai Observer: You can appreciate other dancers with unconventional body types, so why can't you appreciate your own dancing?
Yu Xiuhua: Her movements are very fluid, but mine are not. That's the difference.
Shanghai Observer: Do you like Farooq's choreography?
Yu Xiuhua: I think it's a bit of a pity that Farooq chose one of my early works, A-le. I never intended to publish it—it was something an editor dug up from an old blog of mine. I don't think the poem is good, but the editor thought it was.
Shanghai Observer: That's what's fascinating. The works you consider good may not resonate with others, while the ones you're unsatisfied with might deeply move people.
Yu Xiuhua: I think it's because Farooq's Chinese isn't very good, hahaha.
Shanghai Observer: What touched you the most in "Ten Thousand Tons of Moonlight"?
Yu Xiuhua: In "Ten Thousand Tons of Moonlight", the apple represents desire, and then there are flowers, which I interpret as symbols of women's love and blooming. The idea of the apple symbolising desire is brilliant. I think everyone, no matter who they are, has desires. For instance, if I want to eat meat today, that's my desire. If you want to eat vegetarian, that's your desire. Humans are essentially a collection of desires. An individual without desire simply doesn't exist.
Shanghai Observer: Freud said that dreams are unfulfilled desires. Would you say that art is also unfulfilled desire?
Yu Xiuhua: Are you referring to dance?
Shanghai Observer: Dance, or poetry.
Yu Xiuhua: I think poetry can reach far beyond the boundaries of reality. Dance is similar—it's the body extending itself outward. When your arms stretch outward, it's a process that also goes beyond the limits of reality.
Shanghai Observer: Do you feel that poetry and dance fulfil your desires?
Yu Xiuhua: Spiritual desires can be self-fulfilled. Physical desires, however, require others to fulfil them. But now I feel that even when someone is with me, I still can't be fulfilled. That's the strange loop I find myself in—always in a state of dissatisfaction.
Shanghai Observer: Does this state of unfulfilled desire fuel your creative drive?
Yu Xiuhua: No, it just makes me feel bored.
Shanghai Observer: But I've noticed you've written some poems recently.
Yu Xiuhua: I hadn't written anything for over a month because I was too lazy. I just wanted to see if I could still write, and it seems I can.
Shanghai Observer: Which is harder, dancing or writing poetry?
Yu Xiuhua: Dancing is much harder than writing poetry. When I want to write a poem, the words come to me automatically. All I have to do is pick up a pen or open my computer.
Shanghai Observer: Do you revise your poems?
Yu Xiuhua: Rarely. Which genius revises their own work?
Shanghai Observer: Do you think you're a genius?
Yu Xiuhua: Anyone can brag, haha.
Shanghai Observer: Do you set yourself creative KPIs?
Yu Xiuhua: No. I write when I want to and don't when I don't feel like it. Some creators are very diligent, but I'm probably the laziest—working sporadically at best.
Shanghai Observer: But your best poems likely weren't the result of hard work.
Yu Xiuhua: I remember Farooq asked me to write poems for "Ten Thousand Tons of Moonlight", and I kept putting it off. On the very last day of the deadline, I told him, "Don't worry, I'll write all the poems for you today." And I really did—five of them.
Shanghai Observer: Deadlines are the greatest productivity driver.
Yu Xiuhua: When I was younger, I could write like that every day. Creativity was abundant. When I first got online, I loved sharing my poems on forums and engaging with others. To maintain that output, you have to keep thinking. But now, I don't think about anything. I've lost both the desire to create and the desire to consume.
Shanghai Observer: Is that because, as we age, our creative drive and ability inevitably decline?
Yu Xiuhua: I think it's because I'm going through menopause. Once that's over, I should feel better.
Love: A Process of Gilding Someone
Shanghai Observer: I heard that you started writing poetry by composing love poems for boys. Did you send those poems out?
Yu Xiuhua: Did they even need to be sent? I posted them on Weibo and on my public account all the time. Couldn't they see them? They're not blind.
Shanghai Observer: So these emotions all had real people as their subjects, rather than being fictional?
Yu Xiuhua: Hardly any of them were fictional—they were all real. Some were brief, some long, some older, some younger.
Shanghai Observer: So you've loved many people?
Yu Xiuhua: It's not about love. I think when I used to talk about love, I didn't truly understand what the word meant or where to draw the line. Honestly, I still haven't figured it out. I've liked many people, but to say it was "love" is very complicated. What counts as love?
Shanghai Observer: Do the people you've liked share anything in common?
Yu Xiuhua: Some were very attractive, some were quite ugly, some were much older, and some much younger. There's no clear pattern—it's just that when I needed a relationship, they appeared. It was purely coincidental. I think maybe I owed them something.
Shanghai Observer: Aside from love, what other themes do you explore in your work?
Yu Xiuhua: Other than love, nothing.
Shanghai Observer: Do you think love is the most important thing for you?
Yu Xiuhua: Yes, it's one of the most important things in anyone's life. It's a person's mission in this world.
Shanghai Observer: Do you think love is a skill? Are you particularly good at spotting the bright spots in others?
Yu Xiuhua: Not exactly. I think love is a process of gilding someone. They weren't really that good to begin with—you just think they are because you love them.
Shanghai Observer: Like the saying, "In the eyes of a lover, their beloved is perfect."
Yu Xiuhua: Exactly! So why hasn't anyone ever seen me as perfect? Hahaha.
Shanghai Observer: In your poetry, you express love boldly. Are you the same in real life?
Yu Xiuhua: Yes, I believe that if you like or love someone, telling them is a sign of respect for both parties. Whether they accept it or not, even if they don't, they might remember this love or affection in times of difficulty and find comfort in it. That's important.
Shanghai Observer: Have you ever received such comfort yourself?
Yu Xiuhua: No, I'm always the one comforting others.
Shanghai Observer: Do you feel regret about that?
Yu Xiuhua: Yes, it's still a regret.
Shanghai Observer: But have you come to accept it?
Yu Xiuhua: I've accepted it. But do you know what the most tragic thing in life is? It's when everyone in the world knows what you need, but no one can give it to you. It's not that others don't understand you—they all understand—but they can't provide it. That's the most tragic thing.
Shanghai Observer: Yet we often say that if someone in this world understands you, then you're not so lonely.
Yu Xiuhua: That's not true. I think loneliness is something that always exists. Whether someone likes you or not, or whether you're with someone or not, it's always there. When you come into this world, it's a hurdle that God has set for you. Everyone faces this hurdle.
Shanghai Observer: Have you ever thought about what your life would be like if you hadn't become famous?
Yu Xiuhua: I really don't know what it would be like. Would I still have divorced? I'm not sure.
Shanghai Observer: Perhaps you wouldn't have had the confidence or means to divorce?
Yu Xiuhua: Mostly, it's about having the means. If I hadn't become famous, I might have waited until my son started working before considering divorce. Even now, I don't have much confidence—I live quite aimlessly, recklessly even.
Shanghai Observer: Do you have any regrets about your past?
Yu Xiuhua: None.
Shanghai Observer: What about hopes for the future?
Yu Xiuhua: I hope to find a boyfriend—young, handsome, and rich.
Shanghai Observer: But you already have money.
Yu Xiuhua: That's mine, not his. It's fine if he doesn't have money, but it'd be even better if he does.
Shanghai Observer: After experiencing failed relationships, can you still love wholeheartedly?
Yu Xiuhua: I don't know what it means to love wholeheartedly, but I still have high hopes for love.
Pictures by Li Yjian and Pu Yurong
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