Chinese Craftsmen

Chinese Craftsmen

Nan Xiang

Jiangxi Education Publishing House

April 2019

56.00 （CNY）

Brief introduction：

The traditional paper maker Zhou Donghong， the cotton painter Guo Meiyu， the Sichuan Brocade craftsman Hu Guangjun， the pharmacist Huang Wenhong ... all of them are successors of intangible cultural heritage， and guardians and inheritors of China’s artisanal history. They still stay true to the original aspiration as all the prosperity fades away， and hold fast to the artistry on the verge of disappearance. Over time and with age， they make full use of their craftsmanship to express creative ideas in shaping their world， giving life an extraordinary meaning. Nan Xiang has spent three years recording the life experiences and craft skills of 15 Chinese craftsmen and the current situation of the industry by means of field surveys and interviews. While introducing us to the industry， the author lays emphasis on the characters behind the consummate skills， with the purpose of highlighting the traditional culture and reinterpreting the artisan spirit of China. It is a well-written ideological and highly literary piece of non-fiction， interspersed with nice pictures.

Nan Xiang

Nan Xiang is a professor awarded as China National First-class Writer， who has written works of over 10 genres including novels， essays and reviews. His novels have twice been nominated for the Lu Xun Literary Prize （Short Stories） and ranked among the Chinese Novels List for four times.

On Songgang Street in Bao'an District， Shenzhen City， everyone， regardless of their age， call this 70-plus-year-old carpenter Uncle Wen， whose real name is Wen Yecheng.

I first met this craftsman at Songgang Street's Recreation and Sports Office. After the office chief talked to him， inviting him to visit different communities and write some couplets for them， we walked toward the door together. At the door， he suddenly stopped and walked back into the office， asking for a special type of rice paper. Seeing him walking， I noticed that he seemed to have a limp. When we walked down the stairs together， he told me that he had accidentally hurt his foot when moving some farm tools. After that， we naturally began to talk about woodwork and farm tools. He had a quite a strong Cantonese accent when speaking Mandarin， but that did not hinder our communication. After we talked for a while， he sighed deeply， seeming to find it hard to explain all his feelings to me in just a few words. I offered to drive Uncle Wen home. After passing under No. 107

National Highway， I drove my car into a tortuously narrow lane， and after driving through a series of curves， we finally arrived. Uncle Wen's home was a narrow， multi-story self-built house with a small yard in the front， which was barely big enough to park a car in. After Uncle Wen opened the gate and swung open the iron fence for me， I

carefully drove into the yard and parked my car there.

Uncle Wen invited me to sit down and chat with him in his sitting room， which also served as his painting studio. Actually， this room was a corridor connecting a single-story building to a multi-story one. When I took a seat， I saw that on my left-hand side stood a table with a felt backing board and some rice paper on it， and on my right-hand side stood a short wall with many of Uncle Wen's calligraphic works and paintings magnetically pinned onto it. I could imagine how careful and gentle he had been when placing those colorful magnetic pins on the square-shaped artwork， but I did not come here for these things. I had come for Uncle Wen's wooden farm tools. In 2015， Wen Yecheng's skill in making wooden farm tools was named one of the district-level intangible cultural heritage projects， and he was the only existing inheritor of this skill. The district was also applying to make this skill one of the city-level intangible cultural heritage projects. That morning， I got up early and drove about one hour from Futian District in central Shenzhen to Songgang Street， which was located near Dongguan， for Uncle Wen's wooden farm tools， however， upon arriving at his home， Uncle Wen did not immediately show me his farm tools or his carpenter studio. Instead， he first brewed a pot of Tieguanyin tea （a variety of oolong tea） and told me his life story.

As a native of Shenzhen， the things that he had experienced during the past 70-plus years constituted a vivid history of this city and even this nation.

The surname Wen has lasted for about seven or eight hundred years in this coastal region of South China. The Wen families in Hong Kong and in Shenzhen's Bao'an District， Fuyong Town， and Gangxia Village all regarded Wen Tianxiang， Duke of Xinguo of the Southern Song Dynasty （1127–1279）， as their ancestor. Hundreds of years ago， when the Southern Song Dynasty was defeated after it fled to this coastal region， Wen Tianxiang left us this famous poem before bravely embracing his demise. The most

famous line of the poem is as

follows， \"Everyone must die; let me but leave a loyal heart shining in the pages of history.\" Since then， Wen Tianxiang has been widely hailed as a symbol of patriotism and righteousness in China.

Uncle Wen has a famous ancestor， but this eminent family background did not prevent him from enduring hardships in his life. Uncle Wen told me that he was born into a poor village family， and that to make the ends meet， his father had to take many low-paying jobs such as a peasant， a street vendor， a cook at a people's commune， a rag-picker， and a dyer. \"Back then， the whole country was suffering from a shortage of food and clothes， and most village people only had some grayish cloth to make clothes. Given this， my father decided to dye cloth for others to increase his income. He carried dyestuff on his shoulders and went to different villages to do this job. The skin on his hands quickly became rough and chapped， and the dye seemed to stick on his hands and could never be washed off completely，\" said Uncle Wen. \"After graduating from primary school in Songgang， I went to study at a middle school in Gongming， which was six kilometers away from my home. Every day， I had to set off early in the morning and come home late at night. As the whole nation was starving at that time， I could only eat a little at home before walking for about one hour to attend class， and my middle school did not offer us any lunch food. Every time I walked toward home after school， I would feel so weak that I could hardly stand. Some of my classmates took pity on me and shared some food with me. Sometimes， I could get a sweet potato or a small rice ball. I sincerely believed that this was the best food in the world during those days.\" Wen Yecheng told me that he did very well in the first year of his middle school and that his teacher often used his calligraphic works as models for the class. Unfortunately， he had to drop out of school during the second year due to some family misfortune. \"There were six people in my family， excluding my grandparents， and my mother was really industrious and thrifty in managing the household. Shockingly， during my second year of middle school， my mother passed away in her early 40s， making our lives even harder. Under such circumstances， I had to drop out of school. My teacher， who admired my talent very much， hurriedly walked to my home the day after he received this message. Upon seeing the shabby house we lived in， my teacher swallowed all the reproachful words he had prepared and offered me a solution： 'I will mobilize all the teachers in the school to donate one or two yuan for you each month to put you through middle school and help you get recruited by a high school or Huiyang Art School.' I declined it. The teachers in my middle school earned just over 20 yuan each month. I didn't want to burden them. Besides， I had to work as soon as possible to support my family. My teacher repeatedly attempted to persuade me， but I was resolved. In the end， my teacher had to leave my home reluctantly and disappointedly，\" said Uncle Wen.

Uncle Wen said that after dropping out of school， his top priority was to feed his father and his siblings， who had become very thin because of their poor diet. \"We didn't have any good bedding at that time， but I managed to cut a slightly-used mosquito curtain into pieces， and used those pieces and some bamboo strips to make a fishing net. I used some chaff as the bait， and caught some shrimps with the net. I cooked the shrimps by throwing them into boiling water， without adding any salt， oil， or other condiments， but by the time the shrimps were ready， my siblings were eager to eat them. They picked up the shrimps with their fingertips， put them in their mouth， and quickly swallowed them down while they were still hot. Upon seeing this， I immediately grabbed several shrimps， put them in a coarse porcelain bowl， and put a lid on it. I kept those shrimps for my father， as he still needed to go to work at the water conservancy construction site the next morning\". Those boiled shrimps sustained Wen Yecheng and his family through those starving years， but for Wen Yecheng， shrimps were more than just food. When he first began to paint as an amateur， he almost always painted shrimps. I think he did that for a reason.

Hearing Uncle Wen's story， I thought maybe this tale had planted the seed in his heart which inspired him to make more objects with his hands such as buckets， stools， baskets， dippers， and some other tools and furniture. My assumption was quickly proven correct， as Uncle Wen told me that he liked the smell of the grass， bamboo， and wood， and enjoyed turning them into practical utensils that helped him catch shrimps， cook rice， weed the grass in the fields， and thresh grain in autumn.