Coming out of the cocoon

Butterflies, orgies, flowers, anal sex, clouds and homosexual love are just some of the provocative themes depicted on the colorful paper cuttings by Beijing-based artist Xi Yadie, a nom de plume that literally means "Siberian butterfly." Xi, who declined to offer his real name, said he adopted his moniker because in his village "traditions and conventions are as cold as the Siberian winds that blow down on Shaanxi."

Art for the 48-year-old is a creative outlet away from his multiple roles that include filial son, husband and father of two. Xi is also an open homosexual, or tongzhi as it's colloquially referred to in Chinese, as well as a bold artist and free spirit.

Xi's artistic endeavors might have courted controversy with conservative domestic art critics, but he's also helped impart a modern twist on a traditional Chinese art form that dates back to the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220).

'Siberian Butterfly' takes flight

Xi has cut away from the art form's traditional intricate patterns to tackle the taboo topic of homosexuality. Having recently returned to the capital from his debut US exhibition last month, Xi spoke candidly to Metro Beijing about his bittersweet battle with guilt and love.

"People were kind and happy to express their enthusiasm and feelings openly," Xi said of his recent rendezvous in Los Angeles, which involved his first plane trip. Sitting in a corner of his confined 10-square-meter room in the artistic community of Songzhuang, Tongzhou district, Xi openly revealed his personal life before talking of his art.

"My family doesn't know that I'm a homosexual," Xi confessed softly. "I struggled and tried to be heterosexual when I was young. I went to see doctors who told me that [homosexuality] wasn't a disease, it was natural."

Hailing from a small village near Xi'an in North China's Shaanxi Province where same-sex relationships remain strictly taboo, Xi struggled to embrace his identity as a gay man. "I wouldn't dare be open about my sexuality in my village. Locals would think I'm a criminal and my family would be shrouded in shame," he said.

Parental pressure led Xi to marry at the age of 24. Like most homosexuals of his generation, he kept his sexuality under wraps. "In my village, men play mahjong in the street. I was mocked because I enjoyed paper cutting and I'd stay at home taking care of my disabled son while my wife went to work," he explained.

Tackling taboos in art

Xi's two children, his 23-year-old son who suffers cerebral palsy and his 22-year-old daughter who studies at a university in Xi'an, remain in the dark about their father's secret sexuality. He recalled that coming out to his wife a couple of years into their marriage was an emotional experience that left her in tears, but added she eventually "accepted it peacefully."

"It's depressing to be gay in China and even more miserable to be gay in a Chinese village," said Xi.

Paper cutting is a tradition passed down from generation to generation in Xi's family. His grandfather taught it to his mother, who in turn taught it to him when he was 16. "My mother always told me my work was better than hers," recalled Xi, gazing over masterpieces mounted on the wall of his home.

"I was trapped in loneliness, but paper cutting allowed me to fly like a butterfly and enjoy freedom," he added. "I kept original symbols such as flowers that stand for beauty and clouds, which symbolize luck. But the pain that I was in gave me inspiration to do something different."

The artist keeps albums filled with his paper cuttings that depict everything from hybrid creatures to erotic encounters. Showing his albums to Metro Beijing, Xi pointed out one of his favorite paper cuttings depicting a rural farmhouse bathed in moonlight.

Two doves, symbolizing peace, watch over a bed where a woman holds a child. Just outside the door a two-faced man performs oral sex on another. One face gawks at his male lover, while the second face turns back looking at the woman.

"For a long time I felt greedy, wondering why I'd need a boyfriend if I already had a wife," Xi said. "These doors [in paper cuttings] bar many feelings, yet also protect against prejudice. Behind these doors lies self-restraint and prospect."

In another paper cutting, there's a lover with shackled feet and a man sowing his penis with a needle, while in another a teenage boy engages in a sexual encounter with a train conductor, who represents one of Xi's former lovers.

Asked about his current relationship, he was coy, saying he meets his lover "every once in a while."

Inspiring courage to 'come out'

Just like many migrant workers, city life has been far from luxurious for Xi. He works as a cook, cleaner and driver to make ends meet. Most of his meager income is sent to his family.

But he's happy that he's not alone in the modern ranks of gay Chinese men who keep up heterosexual appearances in the countryside yet enjoy sexual liberation in the city. About 90 percent of Chinese homosexuals are married to conform to social norms, according to a study by Qingdao University.

Xi's initiation to the gay community came online when he found the nonprofit Queer Comrades center in Beijing. The center held an exhibition of his paper cuttings in 2009 during the Queer Film Festival and Sexual Diversity Art Festival.

"People reacted very well to my art. There were homosexuals and lesbians in tears who thanked me for showing same-sex love in my paper cuttings," he said.

This success paved the way for him to showcase 50 of his works at an exhibition last month titled "Metamorphosis of a Butterfly" held in Los Angeles.Art critics praised Xi's precision and skill, acclaim that has eluded him from domestic art critics.

The Bookworm will screen The Siberian Butterfly, a short documentary about Xi's life and paper cuttings, at 7:30 pm on Wednesday, August 15. Admission is 20-30 yuan. Xi will also be present to conduct a paper cutting workshop.

Wu Kameng contributed to this story