Leng Shixiang, 55, was invited by the Chinese Academy of Arts to be one of its 30 folk art researchers. He is a carpenter by profession, but he was not bestowed the honor for his woodworking skills, but rather for his expert skills in making mini kites.

Leng first fell in love with kite-making when he was eight. Over the last 40-odd years, Leng has honed his kite-making skills from what started out as a hobby to what has become an indispensable part of his life. But it wasn't until 1985 that he delved into the world of mini kites.

Leng decided to make smaller kites simply because he wanted to see just how small a kite could get before it was unable to be flown.

The process for making a small kite is exactly the same as that for bigger kites -- making the framework, binding, covering it with paper and finally drawing on it. The only difference is that it's much more difficult to calibrate the balance on a small kite. The smaller the kite, the harder it is.

For Leng, the mini kites are not merely pieces of art -- they must be capable of flying. Leng has a box of half-finished mini kites that can't be flown because of balance problems. But he isn't willing to throw them out.

Mini kites require a lot more work and are more prone to failing the "fly test". Therefore, each framework has to be tried and tested before a picture is drawn on it. Leng tests the mini kites either on his roof or his neighbors' roofs. "Mini kites are like little bees when flying," Leng said. "Be careful and never loosen your grip, or the kites will get lost in the trees or something else. They are too little to be found."

The smallest kite Leng has made is a 7×7mm swallow-shaped kite, smaller than the smallest coin in China. Despite its size, the kite lacks none of the necessary elements of a kite. Leng said that he flew the kite as high as about three meters when he finished it, but he's loath to fly it now; it is too precious and delicate. So much so that he handles it with a pair of forceps.

Another kite that Leng is particularly proud of is a 23 X 23cm swallow-shaped kite, with about hundred bats drawn on it. The bats imply that it is a "lucky" kite. The word "bat" in Chinese is pronounced bian fu, the fu sounding very similar to the Chinese word for good fortune.

Mini kites take much longer to make than normal-sized ones and Leng can only make them when he's in a good mood. However, the sense of achievement and satisfaction he derives out of making a mini kite is almost double.

As much as Leng enjoys making kites, the thought of selling them never crossed his mind, not even when he was at his most desperate financially.

He remembers a time, several years ago, when he was earning only about 100 yuan (about US$12) a month. Some foreigners offered to pay thousands of dollars for his kites. Embassy staff even tried to persuade him to sell the kites. But he refused.

His explanation is that every kite is a record of his love for the art. Designs might be copied, but not the love or enthusiasm for creation. To him, kite-making is a vocation. It is not work. For him, it's about pleasure. It is not about money.

Leng's failing eyesight means that he makes fewer kites these days. He works with the aid of a magnifying glass, which isn't always very convenient.

As for passing down his skills, Leng laments that the younger generation have no interest in his art form, which explains why he doesn't have any apprentices. So in 1998, he wrote a book on kite-making called Kite Making Guidance in the hope that more young people would learn to understand and appreciate his dying art.

(China.org.cn by Chen Lin, June 30, 2005)