Global“Never giving up” is the very definition of Mr. Su’s life.
Born with physical challenges, he never bowed to limitations; in life’s toughest moments, he pushed forward with sheer determination and a deep sense of responsibility. Today, that same spirit is poured into every spoonful of molten sugar, transforming into delicate and sweet works of art.
You can find him in the Confucius Temple area on weekends, and during pleasant seasons, outside Da Guang Elementary School on weekdays.
In Tainan’s Confucius Temple district, a specially designed tricycle and its eye-catching sign often draw the attention of passersby. Sitting on the tricycle is Mr. Guang-Xiang Su—a master of sugar painting, who uses sugar as his ink and a spoon as his brush. With steady hands and focused expression, he carefully shapes fine lines of caramel. For him, sugar painting is not only a nostalgic street-side memory of childhood, but also a cultural craft that he carries a mission on.
Resilience Born in Adversity
Though Mr. Su has faced mobility challenges since childhood, he has always held fast to an unyielding belief: “I refuse to give in.”
“I thought, I can do it!” he recalls with a smile, and his eyes still carrying the same stubborn spark from those years. That resilience carried him through the most difficult times of his life.
More than thirty years ago, his wife passed away suddenly, leaving him to raise two young children on his own. Balancing work and fatherhood with little support, he never once thought of giving up. “It was my sense of responsibility that kept me going,” he says firmly. “The children were so young—if no one cared for them, what would happen? I had to rely on myself.”
That deep sense of responsibility was instilled in him by his mother’s strict guidance. She once told him:
“It’s okay to be disabled, but it‘s not okay to be irresponsible.”
Those words became his lifelong motto, and also the core value he has passed on to his children.
From Grocery Shop to Sugar Painting
Mr. Guang-Xiang Su’s career began with a family-owned grocery store. After getting married, he and his wife managed the shop together, but the meager profit and exhausting labor pushed him to seek a new path. He then taught himself the craft of seal engraving, working hard to make a living with his hands. Yet as technology advanced, handmade seals were gradually replaced by machine engraving.
“Both of my trades were swept away by the times,“ he says with a gentle smile—without bitterness, but with a realization: he needed to master a skill that could not be easily replaced. That‘s when he turned to the traditional art of sugar painting—an ancient craft that blends sweetness with artistry.
Every Line of Sugar, A World of Emotion
“When you learn sugar painting, getting burned is unavoidable, “Mr. Su says as he opens his hands, showing scars earned from decades of practice. Though it may look simple, sugar painting requires a true “conversation“ with the sugar. The molten syrup is alive—it flows, it hardens, and the lines must be drawn within seconds. Steady hands and patient focus are both indispensable.
Over the years, he has taught many students, some mastered the skill in just one day, while others struggled even after four years of learning. “You need talent, but even more, you need patience,“ he says kindly, always reminding them: “Don‘t rush, it takes time and practice.“ Among his many experiences, one story left a deep impression: a professor from New Zealand learned the art in just a single day. He didn‘t learn it for profit, but simply to share this Eastern craft with friends back home. For Mr. Su, knowing that sugar painting could become a bridge of cultural exchange brought him immense joy.
Changing Times, Enduring Legacy
“In the past, I once promised my teacher not to pass on the craft. But now I realize that was too closed-minded,” Mr. Su says with conviction. “If we don’t teach the skills to the next generation, they’ll slowly fade away.” He hopes sugar painting can be preserved like European crafts being passed down generation after generation, and continuously enriched as cultural nourishment, rather than declining out of rigid tradition. Now at 78, his strength is not what it used to be, but his passion remains. “Maybe I‘ll retire in two or three years, but I hope someone will carry it on.“
Whenever someone is willing to learn, he teaches wholeheartedly. And for those with disabilities, he never charges a fee.
“Because I know how tough it is—I’ve been through it myself.”
Wings of Mobility
More than thirty years ago, he transitioned from a manual wheelchair to a power wheelchair, which was a turning point in his life. “I’ve already used four different wheelchairs. Now I’m using the KP-40,” he says with a smile. “My kids walk, I roll—we go shopping, visit exhibitions. From morning to night, the battery still isn’t half used!” His words carry deep gratitude for both family and life.
The power wheelchair has given him freedom, allowing him to continue creating and passing on his craft. Whether it’s riding the train, visiting art museums, or seeing friends, he can go wherever he wants. To him, the wheelchair is more than just a tool—it is a pair of wings, opening up a broader horizon for his life.
Not for a Living, But for Living for Himself
Today, Mr. Su no longer struggles for survival. Instead, sugar painting has become his passion and his mission. With his wheelchair, he expands the boundaries of freedom; with sugar threads, he safeguards the roots of tradition. His story is not just about a wheelchair or a craft—it is about how an elder, within the limits of his body, creates boundless possibilities.
Through his life, Mr. Su shows us that a body with limitations can never restrain a steadfast heart. In his hands, sugar threads are more than art—they carry responsibility, time, and love.
“With resilience and a never-give-up spirit, I‘ve made my later years truly sweet!“
📍 About Mr. Su
- Name: Guang-Xiang Su 蘇光祥
- Role: Sugar Painting Master
- Wheels: Saber power wheelchair
- Market appearances: Tainan
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