Ask Yu Qingcheng which of his sculptures is his favorite and he points to a clay figure of an old man he has named "Wang Lao Wu."

The name roughly translates as "fifth oldest son of the Wang family." It is apparently not a rich family. Wang does not stand so much as sprout like a gnarled old pine from two enormous knobby feet that look like roots. His legs are bent at the knees and his back curves like a question mark. His head is cocked at an angle, his mouth is agape, revealing a few oversize teeth pointed at haphazard angles. His hands are arthritic knots of knuckle and finger. The clothes are nearly rags and the burnt black clay has been worked with rough tools.

"Wang Lao Wu" gives an impression of bone-tired weariness, of a life of toil, hardship and want. The old man seems to be asking a question or complaining. Yu won't say which.

"You can only appreciate this if you knew the era," Yu says. "This is not an academic kind of beauty."

That could apply to most of Yu's clay sculptures, crowded into a narrow studio near the Pan Shan mountains of Tianjin where he lives and works. The 55-year-old artist has been giving life to his imagination for 30 years, interrupted only by the Cultural Revolution when he was forbidden to draw or sculpt.

Yu's works have been shown widely in Beijing, most recently at the China Art Fair, and have been featured in several newspaper stories. Works like "Wang Lao Wu" fetch prices in the thousands of dollars.

His sculptures deal with many of the themes of country life. "Wang Lao Wu" is a figure Yu remembers from his childhood -- a typical peasant you could see in any village, he says.

"Bean" depicts a frail old woman, bent over to pick up a bean on the floor. She does not wear a shirt and her shriveled torso hangs to the floor as she peers through glasses at the small bean. Although to a visitor the woman appears to be starving, Yu says she is only frugal. In the countryside not even a single bean should go to waste.

He also sculpts figures of large-breasted, rotund women. Their smooth surfaces and round curves are celebrations of flesh, fertility and the pleasures of life. In one work, a woman reclines on her back and watches with a smile as her son bounces on her soft stomach.

"This is about the happiest moment in life," Yu says, "the mother and her child."

Yu started drawing and sculpting when he was only 6 years old, even though his parents were not artists. His father was a worker and his mother was a housewife. Right from the start, he knew he wanted to be an artist, though his parents hoped he would do something with a more secure future. Yu, who kneads a pebble of clay in his fingers as he speaks through an interpreter, says he was essentially self taught. In 1984 he attended the Tianjin Art School to refine his craft.

He uses local clay and builds his figures using the same techniques used to build the terracotta soldiers of Xi'an. He hopes his art will also last millennia.

But his works bear little resemblance to the austere figures standing guard over a tomb. His are full of life, expressing joy or pain.

"It's not against tradition," Yu says of his work, "It's only the development of the tradition."

Indeed, in an exhibition space not far from his studio, he has several more traditional works. However, even these have their own twists. A bowl becomes a brick tower. Intricate figures grow out from the sides of vessels, transforming them from mere household utensils into works of art.

Although at first Yu had a hard time getting recognition for his work, his popularity has grown in recent years.

"I always believed in my heart I would succeed one day," he says. "If you have no faith in what you do, you will never do it well."

Yu's ultimate goal is for his work to be internationally recognized, a part of the canon of artists that inspired him. That dream drives him on as he works every day he can.

Although not a farmer, Yu adopts some of the profession's plainspoken philosophy when he explains his passion: "Everyone want to be a useful person."