How has my life come to this? I’m talking about my recent interest in Chinese YouTube phenom Li Ziqi. She’s one part Martha Stewart, one part silent pop star, maybe a small bit MacGyver, and at least in front of the camera, she’s all about aesthetics. Li rides horses, kills and butchers her own goats and chickens, spins wool, felts cotton she planted and harvested to make comforters for her mom, grows soybeans that she makes into soy sauce, picks all foods fresh from her farm and from the local mountains where she stocks up on flowers, ginseng, mushrooms, and other elements she requires to make the traditional Chinese craft or food she’s working on. With nearly no dialogue and a lot of soft-focus with just the right depth of field to bring our attention to the most beautiful part of what’s being framed, this powerhouse of a YouTube star has about 2.5 million more subscribers than Joe Rogan.
Li Ziqi came to my attention first from my wife Caroline, but of course, when she was telling me of her, I was listening with half an ear, if that. Then, somehow, as though YouTube heard Caroline better than I did, it suggested Li Ziqi as something I might be interested in. For days, I would see the thumbnail and wonder why. Finally, it worked on me, and I clicked it. Now I’m watching an episode every other day and have to admit it’s become a guilty pleasure. Why guilty?
Li’s is a fantasy world that removes the viewer from any concerns about modern issues or strife found in everyday life. There are few machines, lots of wood and bamboo tools, wood ovens and stoves, and comprehensive knowledge of all things that might be required to live in this natural setting while looking gorgeous and making everything look so easy. Just then, she breaks out the guitar and shows us that she can also play it and sing to boot. As far as her life out in the southern mountains of China is concerned, she’s the ruler of the domain, but that’s not all; she produces and edits her own videos and has an online shop where you can buy all types of things from the life of Li Ziqi, also spelled Liziqi.
Beyond the gigantic body of knowledge one would need for this kind of existence, I’m enchanted by her grace and movement in every task she tackles in each five to fifteen-minute ambient adventure into rural bliss. It’s art and movie magic to sell an idea that slows the world down and offers us an enhanced peek into a version of life that might only exist in fairy tales. While I don’t feel I’m the right target market, I find this to be similar to when I was 17 years old and listening to Brian Eno for the first time as I discovered a musical alternative universe. If I had to guess how long I’d remain interested? I’d venture to say I could watch another 20 episodes before redundancy sets in, but until then, I’ll sit back, lower my heart rate, and enjoy the quiet sophistication and cinematic hand that alters reality to bring me into Li Ziqi’s imagination.