Pagoda Red Book | A blog of Chinese art and culture

Shen and the Magic Brush

April 5th, 2010

A Tale from China Retold by Dianne de Las Casas, The Story Connection.

There was once a boy named Shen. But he was no ordinary boy. Shen was blessed with extraordinary talent. When he dipped his brush in paint and stroked the color on a surface, his paintings came to life.

One day, Shen heard the sweet chirping of crickets. It made him want to paint a cricket. So he dipped his brush and began painting on the road.

A herald from the Imperial palace happened to be walking along. “Stop!” he cried, “you are defacing the property of the Empress of China!” The man looked down and saw Shen’s cricket. Suddenly, the cricket came to life and jumped up.

“I can’t believe it!” the man said. “It’s magic!” He brought Shen to the Imperial palace to meet the Empress.

The Empress looked at Shen and said, “I am very unhappy. My palace is dreary. And I am weary. Paint me something extraordinary to make me happy.”

Shen thought for a moment and then bent down. He dipped his brush and painted something extraordinary. When Shen was finished, he picked it up. It was a colorful, ripe peach.

The Empress cried, “A peach! You paint me an ordinary peach?! You should be punished!” She ordered him to the dungeon and took away his brush.

The Empress said, ”It must be his brush that contains the magic–Paint me a golden throne!” The herald picked up the brush and began painting but nothing happened. Many tried but no one could get the brush to work.

Frustrated, the herald threw the brush into the dungeon. Shen was lonely in the dungeon by himself but now he had his brush so he began painting. With every stroke of the brush, he felt better.

Shen painted rolling hills, tall bamboo, a beautiful panda, and a majestic stallion. The walls shimmered with beauty and then came to life. The horse looked at Shen and whinnied.

“Yes,” said Shen, “I would like to go home.” He climbed upon the horse’s back. The Empress heard the sound of the horse and ordered the dungeon door opened. Everyone was surprised to see Shen galloping away.

The royal herald and the Empress’ guards jumped on their horses and chased after Shen. Shen painted a large waterfall but they passed right through it. Shen then painted a grove of bamboo trees but they stampeded through it.

Finally, Shen painted a valley behind him. The royal herald and the Imperial guards saw too late. Down they fell!

The Empress followed too but on foot. She became lost forever in Shen’s elaborate landscape. As for Shen, he returned home to his family. He never once painted for gain. Shen only painted things that made the world more beautiful.

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It’s Not Just a Table, It’s an Idea

April 5th, 2010

The Ming Dynasty not only represented the peak of furniture design in China; it represented China to the rest of the world. Ming tables, beds, and vases were among the most famous Chinese exports to gain widespread popularity in Europe. Those designs were, in turn, absorbed by European furniture-makers and transformed into modern versions of Ming style. Charting the course of a Ming table, we can trace a line from its assembly to-many centuries later-its assimilation into global markets. As we map the trajectory from Ming furniture to its influence on the rest of the world, it becomes clear that a table is, in fact, more than just a table.

The Language of Good Design
Furniture design in China has been a revered craft for thousands of years. Yet, prior to the Ming period, no word existed in the Chinese language for objects we understand as “furniture” today. Beds, tables, cabinets, and chairs were referred to as “household implements.” As scholarly intellect grew in importance, Ming philosophy became visible in the material world as well. Like the sharpened mind of a Ming scholar, chairs and tables were free of fuss. This moral, philosophical approach to craft changed the Chinese concept of furniture. By the 15th century, Ming scholar Wen Zhenheng’s Treatise on Superfluous Things contained entire chapters on “Tables and Couches,” as well as “Chairs and Beds.” In the 276-year span of the Ming Dynasty, furniture making evolved from a utilitarian endeavor into an art.

Starting at Square One
The story of Ming furniture is embodied in the simplest of objects, the Ming square table. Consisting of four legs and a flat tabletop, the square table was the most basic symbol of domesticity. It hosted family dinners, board games, and afternoon tea. Communal dishes were set in the center of the table, and guests helped themselves to rice. As simple as this table seems, the methods that went into its construction were complex. The lines were straight; the joints were flawless. The square table represents the culmination of a craft honed over many centuries-a moment in history when aesthetic tastes merged with economic prosperity and advances in artisanship to create a nearly perfect object.

Joinery and Construction
The construction of wooden furniture in China was analogous with advances in architecture. Just as Chinese architects used mortise-and-tenon joints to build houses; furniture makers used the same system to construct tables. Nails and screws were never used; joints were individually carved to fit into one another like wooden locks and keys. By the Ming period, tables had evolved from low slabs into high dining tables surrounded by chairs. A wooden panel known as a “waist” was used between the tabletop and apron to secure the top to four sturdy legs, while S-curved braces further stabilized the table. Dovetail and tongue-and-groove joints are also common in Ming tables.

A Table is Not a Table
Furniture during the Ming Dynasty rarely served one purpose. Beds were used as couches, sofas doubled as beds, and dining tables were among the most multi-functional furnishings in the home. According to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, “a table used for serving food at mealtime could also be the surface for a chess game or fortune telling several hours later.” Tables occupied the center of family life, functioning not only as places for meals, but more broadly as the hub around which household activities revolved.

Simplicity and Elegance
For a table to fulfill its many purposes while achieving the Ming ideal of understated elegance, it had to be made from unassuming materials and methods. Wood was allowed to speak for itself-carvings were minimal and restrained. Fine-grained woods such as hard pine or huanghuali (“yellow rose wood” wood) were carved into clean-lined furniture with nearly invisible joints. Expert craftsmen revealed the richness and depth of the wood in pieces that exhibited an even grain structure throughout.

Ming Style and Modernism
The ideals that guided Ming furniture designers in the 15th and 16th centuries resurfaced in the West, much later, under the 20th century mantra, “form follows function.” Lightweight, slim, and timeless, Ming furniture blends in seamlessly with modern décor. Well-known designers of the modernist era often cited Ming design as their inspiration. Round-backed Ming chairs inspired Hans Wegner’s famous “Chinese Chair” in the 1940s. As recently as the past decade, Piero Lissoni debuted a contemporary “Ming Console Table” and Marcel Wanders designed an avant-garde interpretation of traditional Chinese porcelain with his “Ming Vase.” The ideals of the Ming Dynasty have not faded. Indeed, they have imprinted themselves on the global consciousness like wood grain on a table.

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Chinese Beds: Rooms within Rooms

April 5th, 2010

My bed concealed by a folding screen, bamboo desk aslant,

I lie and watch the year’s new swallows arrive at my humble home.

Kao Ch’I (Ming Dynasty), Lying at Leisure During Rain

In the Ming and Qing Dynasties, Chinese beds were not only used for sleeping at night but also for sitting and chatting with friends and family, drinking tea, smoking opium, and playing games of Go. Significant pieces of furniture, they were passed down through generations of families.

Beds figure prominently in classical Chinese poetry, stories, and paintings. In addition to their erotic importance, they were the place of opium dreams, where oracles visited the souls of sleeping bodies. Shen Ji-ji—a storyteller from the early Tang Dynasty—wrote the famous tale of the World in a Pillow, in which a man dreams an entire lifetime in the span of an afternoon nap. The story attests to the bed’s significance as a place for both dreams and waking life.

Chamber beds are the most elaborate examples, composed of a raised platform and a wooden awning that encloses the sleeping area. Constructed from hundreds of pieces carved into interlocking joints, chamber beds could be closed with curtains or lattice panels, providing a private space to sleep, talk, conceive, and bear children. The intimate quarters of a chamber bed witnessed the entire cycle of life, from birth to death.

For women, in particular, beds were symbols of their status within the household. Included as part of a woman’s dowry, an antique Chinese canopy bed is often referred to as a “wedding bed.” It was one of the few items that remained in a woman’s possession throughout her life, even if her marriage ended in divorce.

Daybeds and couch-beds are simpler, used in men’s bedrooms and sitting areas. Ming writer Wen Zhenheng advocated a spare aesthetic for a man’s bedroom when he argued that “even the slightest touch of stylish adornment would make it look like the women’s quarters.” The design of masculine couch-beds and daybeds ranged from spare wooden platforms to more intricately carved pieces with latticed armrests and backs.

Today, the Chinese bed is a unique example of antique furniture that remains a multi-functional object. Chamber are particularly beautiful in lofts or large rooms, where they establish an intimate area for sleeping or sitting. The raised platform also creates a small riser where you can leave your shoes and step into a private space. Daybeds and couch-beds are as versatile as they once were, often used in contemporary homes as a sofa or divan. These antique beds have witnessed many lifetimes, and will continue to see many more, enduring as objects of beauty and utility.

Excerpted from The Columbia Book of Later Chinese Poetry: Yuan, Ming, and Ch’ing Dynasties (1279-1911), Trans. & Ed. Jonathan Chaves, Columbia University Press, 1986.

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East Meets West: Chinese Art Deco Carpets

April 5th, 2010

The story of Chinese Art Deco begins in World War One, when trade routes between the West and the Middle East were disrupted by conflicts in Eastern Europe and Turkey. China joined the allied forces in 1917 and trade increased between Asia, North America, and Western Europe. As the flow of goods escalated between the allied nations, so did the exchange of ideas. Modern European design, in particular, influenced Chinese designers of the 1920s and 30s in seaport cities like Shanghai.

Known as the “Paris of the East,” Shanghai was the symbol of Westernized China. The city’s artists and designers were strongly influenced by French styles, and Shanghai’s art and architecture began to reflect the modern sophistication of the Art Deco aesthetic. When the war cut off the supply of Persian rugs to the West, American and European exporters looked to China for a new supply of carpets in the Art Deco style.

Chinese wool industries in coastal cities-including Shanghai and Tianjin-responded to American and European demand by producing high-quality carpets in the popular colors and patterns of the era. While traditional Chinese rugs were woven from a combination of undyed and naturally pigmented wools, Chinese Deco Carpets fused Eastern motifs with Western hues and styles. In the early twentieth century, chemical dyes imported from Europe increased the range of color that Chinese weavers could use, and enabled them to experiment with more modern designs. Advances in machine-spun wool weaving also allowed them to create denser carpets with more consistent surface patterns.

The production of Chinese Deco Carpets reached its peak in the 1920s and 30s and ended in the 40s, when the Communist Party gained control of China’s political system. Under Mao Zedong, exchange between China, Europe, and the Americas died down as the government worked hard to erase the effects of Western influence. The isolationism of the Maoist era has since given way to increased trade in the past few decades, and Chinese Deco Carpets have again made their way into America, this time as antiques.

The rich colors, high-quality pile, and short production period of the carpets make them valuable collectors’ items. Beyond their worth as objects of beauty, they also tell the story of an era of exchange between East and West.

Sources:

What the Wool Trade Wrought: Rug-Making in Early 20th Century Tianjin, Elizabeth Bergen, Hali Magazine, Issue 118, September-October 2001, pp. 102-105

Shanghai’s Art Deco Riches Revealed, Gary Jones, TIME Magazine, February 27, 2007

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Mick De Giulio: Design and Found Objects

April 5th, 2010

“The beautiful thing about design is its intangibility,” says Mick De Giulio. “It’s subjective and hard to explain why you love certain things. For example, you might respond to the grain, the depth, the texture and the feel of a piece of wood, and someone else may not see it. All that matters is that you love it. Certain materials or objects attract certain people, and that is what I try to find for my designs.”

De Giulio has earned an international reputation for his unique and personal approach to kitchen design—an art he’s been practicing throughout most of his life. He learned woodworking as a teenager in Detroit, assisting his father in the family workshop. “My dad had a little woodshop where he would make cupolas. Eventually we progressed into cabinet making and I designed my first kitchen when I was about 20 years old.”

De Giulio moved to Chicago and founded his own company in 1984. He has remained committed to the craft of kitchen design ever since. “As a design profession, nothing has progressed more than kitchens,” he says. “In the last 20 years, especially, kitchens have evolved into a room and a lifestyle area where people do everything—hang out with family and friends, cook, entertain.”

Every kitchen tells a story. “I did a project for a client who showed me this old ice chest that she used to play with as a child in her grandmother’s house. She used it as a toy chest. I said, ‘Let’s take it and refinish the hardware, clean up the wood, and incorporate it into the kitchen.’ Now it’s part of her kitchen, and those memories of this heirloom are still around.”

De Giulio is attracted to projects that reflect the individual lives and loves of his clients. In his search for unusual pieces, he often incorporates antiques into his kitchen and bath designs. “Found objects, personal pieces—these are the things that put a unique signature to each design,” he says. “For instance, there’s a stone basin that one of my clients bought from Pagoda Red that we incorporated into their powder room vanity. We set it on a piece of lychee, a Balinese wood.”

Travel also inspires the design process. On global expeditions, De Giulio has collected inspiration from a wide range of cultures. “I was at a tile shop in Paris when I saw this beautiful material—just a little piece on the floor. It took me 2 years to research how that piece was made. Eventually I found the people that made it—a group of artisans working it Italy. I befriended an artist, and now we work together to incorporate these unique pieces into my designs.” De Giulio’s search for a unique object, crafted in a way that distinguishes it from all other pieces, speaks to a sensibility deeply grounded in a personal approach to design.

“It’s not just about buying cabinets and countertops,” he explains. “It’s about surrounding yourself with things you love.”_________________________________________________________________________________________For more information about Mick De Giulio and his designs:WILMETTE
de Giulio kitchen design
1121 Central Avenue
Wilmette, IL 60091
847.256.8833CHICAGO

de Giulio kitchen design

222 Merchandise Mart Plaza
Suite 121
Chicago, IL 60654
312.494.9200

www.degiulio.org

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Twists and Turns: Chinese Rootwood Furniture

April 5th, 2010

From the freeform hardwood coffee tables of modernists like George Nakashima to the reclaimed driftwood chairs of the current crop of eco-conscious furniture makers, natural wood has the power to imbue a modern home with warmth. The current fervor for wood’s sculptural qualities has deep roots in Chinese design. Long before contemporary furniture makers began to preserve the natural forms of tree trunksand branches, Chinese artists had mastered the craft of designing furniture and other decorative objects from the twisted forms and inherent grains of hardwoods.
The significance of rootwood furniture is not only formal; it is also philosophical. Satisfying the Taoist design principles of naturalism and spontaneity, rootwood furniture exemplifies the idea that the scholarly aesthetic of a Chinese gentleman should be expressed with a humble attitude. The Chinese ideals for a literati gentleman are

strength in reason, creation, expression and dexterity—these values are also expressed in what is required to envision, design and create rootwood furniture.
Wood is one of the five elements of Chinese mysticism, along with fire, water, metal, and earth. The twisted roots of trees have special associations for Buddhists and Taoists, who see them as the embodiment of the ebb and flow of nature’s energy. A search for the perfect piece of trunk or root mirrored the spiritual pursuit of harmony. Polished and arranged in a certain way, rootwood has the ability to transform from a piece of wood into a cumulus cloud, a flowing river, or a miniature mountain range. By removing the wood from its original context, it takes on special symbolism.

Looking at Chinese paintings, it is easy to find examples of rootwood’s historical importance. An imperial painting from the Five Dynasties period (8th century) depicts Emporer Minghuang sitting on a rootwood stool. Later, images from the Ming and Qing Dynasties (16th to 19th centuries) commonly show scholars sitting in rootwood chairs. The twisted forms of rootwood beds and tables also populate the erotic art of the era, attesting to its significance not only in the homes of intellectuals but also in the hidden world of sensual pleasure.
Like many Chinese objects and materials, rootwood contains the duality of two worlds. Rootwood craftsmen—by manipulating the perception and scale of the original tree—shape the mystical, unknowable world into one that is known, an everyday part of daily human life. The root of the tree offers a sense of wholeness in its form. An ancient love poem from the Han Dynasty beautifully illustrates the metaphor of completeness: “…roots never break from the trunk they cling to. If even these unfeeling things shun separation, how could we, who have feelings, bear to part?”[1]

[1] Excerpted from The Columbia Book of Chinese Poetry: From Early Times to the Thirteenth Century, Trans. & Ed. Burton Watson, Columbia University Press, 1986.

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Raise the Red Lantern

April 5th, 2010

A red lantern calls the spring clouds from my sleep…
Wang Chien, Palace Poems

On the 15th day of the first lunar month, people across China commemorate the Lantern Festival-the last day of Chinese New Year celebrations and the first full moon of the year. Red lanterns are strung across plazas, hung outside homes, and carried through streets. This ancient Spring Festival encompasses many traditions: the reunion of families, the veneration of spirits, and the birthday of Tianguan-the Taoist god of prosperity.

Although the Lantern Festival dates back thousands of years, it was not until the early Qing Dynasty (1663-1796) that Emperor Qianlong popularized the custom of “raising the red lantern.” Decorated with the color of wealth and good fortune, red lanterns are said to beckon luck from the hearth gods who protect the home.

An ancient symbol, the lantern represents many things. In Buddhism, lanterns of all kinds-particularly those with a lotus shape or pattern-symbolize illumination and knowledge. Poems and riddles are often inscribed on lanterns. In traditional folklore, lanterns are associated with fertility. People in Yunnan Province traditionally place “Children and Grandchildren Lanterns” under the bed to encourage conception.

Lanterns come in diverse shapes and sizes, from paper spheres to intricate metal and wood frames lined with fabric. The lantern’s soft light-evoking the ethereal glow of a full moon-has inspired artists, designers, and architects from John Singer Sargeant to Rem Koolhaus. In homes, lanterns make striking pendant lights, table lamps, centerpieces, and garden decorations. They can be wired with a bulb or used as traditional votives, infusing a home with the warm glow of good luck.

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Monsoon Music: Bronze Rain Drums

April 5th, 2010

All night, the sound of rain on my sail, among the reeds-

drop after drop

leading my dreams through the rivers and lakes.

-Chin Nung (1687 – 1764), from Mooring in the Rain at Sung-Ling

Rain Drums, also known as Bronze Drums, are functional objects with a higher purpose. Originally crafted as tribal drums used in Southeast Asian rituals, their hollow bronze shape transforms the sound of monsoon rains into music. The characteristics that once endowed these drums with sacred power now make them objects of great aesthetic and acoustic beauty.

Rain Drums originated with the Dong Son culture in Southeast Asia, dating as far back as the mid-to-late Bronze Age (1,000 – 700 BC). Metal workers poured and set molten bronze in a cast, freed the hardened drums from their molds, then carved them with intricate motifs as the metal cooled. The art of sculpting bronze drums remains a refined skill, acquired over many years and passed on through apprenticeships.

Long associated with water and rain, the drums were at one time used in boats to keep time for oarsmen and signal to other ships. In Southeast Asian ritual, rain drums were played to make music for spirits and communicate with ancestors. The intricate patterns on the tops of rain drums reference creatures associated with the rainy season. Toads and frogs, for example, are water creatures that symbolize the moon. Geometric motifs, such as eight-pointed stars or wheels with 12 spokes, are often inscribed on the drums to bring luck.

Families that owned rain drums were blessed with wealth and power. The ability to offer music to the rain gods implied a measure of control over agrarian China’s most valuable resource. As the incarnation of female yin and male yang, rain was not only important to physical sustenance, but spiritual survival as well. Even today, rain drums are highly valued objects. Prized for their longevity, rain drums combine the yang attribute of strength with the yin quality of delicate beauty.

In modern gardens, rain drums continue to fulfill their age-old purpose, echoing the music of rainfall. Bronze drums can also be used indoors as tables, stools, and plant stands. The graceful combination of opposites that ancient craftsmen used to evoke the harmony of yin and yang now appeals to contemporary designers for similar reasons-bronze drums are durable yet delicate, a striking balance of form and function.

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Chinese Gardens: The Heart of the Home

April 5th, 2010

Traditional courtyard gardens are the literal and figural heart of the Chinese home. In a classical house, the main rooms open into a private garden that not only fills the home with sunlight but also serves as a space for contemplation and meditation. These natural spaces are often referred to as “scholars gardens,” used by artists and philosophers to seek spiritual shelter.

Both modern and classical Chinese gardens are influenced by Confucian and Taoist philosophies—particularly the belief that balance can be achieved through the coupling of opposites. Within the garden, a microcosm of the larger universe can be unearthed within four major elements: water, stone, plants, and architecture.

Water

The lifeblood of the world, water fills the streams and rivers that compose the earth’s arteries. Water carries the feminine energy of yin—soft and yielding, yet capable of overcoming hard stone. In the garden, water also introduces the element of reflective light. Suzhou, China’s “garden city”, is known for ornate ponds and fountains that decorate its water gardens. Ponds combine the dual concepts of emptiness and fullness—they mirror the clear, empty sky but are also “filled” with everything they reflect.

Stone

Stone is the yang to water’s yin. Symbolic of longevity, stone makes up the skeleton of the earth. Since the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644), specially placed stones have been an integral part of Chinese garden design. Beautifully shaped rocks—such as twisting Taihu stones—are given honored placement. Stones are also functional, used to mark paths, separate space, and create shorelines around ponds.

Plants

Plants are chosen not only for their beauty but also for their poetic and symbolic properties. Because plants represent vitality, the garden must support living species throughout all four seasons. Pine, bamboo, and plum trees are the “three friends of winter,” plants that survive the whole year, representing longevity and resilience. Spring flowers are chosen for their splendor. The “three famous flowers”—azalea, primrose, and gentian—cover the mountain slopes of Southwest China during the flowering season. Magnolia and tree peony symbolize wealth and status, while chrysanthemums—once used for medicinal purposes—represent the “courage to make sacrifices for a natural life.” The lotus, an emblem of enlightenment, is particularly important in Chinese gardens. Its pure petals rise out of muddy water, symbolic of the soul that emerges from darkness into light.

Architecture

Architecture represents the presence of human beings in the natural world. Pavilions, bridges, patterned tiles, pagodas, and gates are important elements of traditional gardens. In walled gardens, “empty” windows and doors often permeate manmade structures, framing views and revealing glimpses of the landscape to those outside the garden. Lattice screens also punctuate the windows of courtyard walls, weaving sunlight into intricate patterns.

Striving for harmony, Chinese garden design uses these four elements to unify contradictory but complimentary pairs. Untamed plants invigorate ordered flowerbeds; crooked paths merge into straight ones; hard yang blends with soft yin. Timeless details woven into the fabric of ancient tradition can inspire contemporary home gardens that serve as spaces for relaxation, contemplation, and meditation.

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The Pagoda Red Winnetka Scholars’ Garden

April 5th, 2010

Years ago we leveled a parking lot and planted traditional and symbolic botanical specimens to create our interpretation of a classical Chinese garden featuring myriads of collectible stones. It is a hidden oasis tucked behind our Winnetka gallery. Recent additions to our collection of mysterious stones include an organic moon-shaped fountain that was originally a post anchor, and a wall of old roof tiles installed to mimic the natural bamboo surrounding the garden walls. Ancient fu dogs, a lifesize mythical dragon said to have protected a 19th century village from rising rivers, an auspicious limestone fortune fish and stone troughs planted with prehistoric looking succulents make our intimate garden an inspiring space to visit. The scene changes daily as blossoms and pieces come and go. There is always something new.

Pagoda Red’s Scholars’ Garden
902 Green Bay Road
Winnetka
847.784.8881

Tuesday – Saturday, 10 – 5

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