2025/05/06

Taiwan Today

Taiwan Review

Traditional symbols sell rice noodles

June 01, 1986
Labels 1-5
Would-be cultural guardians, of numerous varieties, have been quick to decry the emergence of modern commercial packaging in developing societies. They lament the disappearance of the quaint accoutrements of traditional commerce, looking with dismay upon the flood of printed plastic and paperboard containers following in the wake of modernization. A number appear truly convinced that such byproducts of modernity are just one more step in a process of creeping Westernization—an evidence of cultural decay.

And there is, of course, some reason for such apprehension. The influence of Western multinationals is ubiquitous now throughout the developing world. In many countries, their products, advertising, and packaging are almost as common as those of the domestic concerns.

The Republic of China on Taiwan is no exception. Foreign fast food franchises, consumer goods, and appliances can be found everywhere. And domestic packaging and advertising have become increasingly internationalized. Bubble packs, blister packs—all of the marvels of Western package engineering that test the ingenuity and strength of the consumer—are now de rigueur in many segments of the Taiwan market. Packaging motifs are also affected: a casual inspection of the shelves in any Taipei supermarket or grocery yields a growing number of labels of purely Western origin, as well as numerous Chinese designs along similar lines.

Does all of this mean that the growth of foreign influence and the advent of plastic packaging is as culturally damaging as the most dedicated critics assert? Not really. In fact, on balance, the spread of modern packaging in the ROC would seem to be a definite plus, also, for traditional folk culture and design.

Mi fen, an important staple in Taiwanese cuisine, provides an excellent example of how modern packaging can benefit traditional culture. This product, essentially a kind of rice vermicelli, is commonly sold in dry, fragile, nest-like bunches. At home, consumers soak the mi fen in hot water to provide the basis for an array of truly sumptuous Chinese dishes.

In earlier times, this product faced serious problems as far as distribution and sanitation were concerned. Hsinchu, in northern Taiwan, where strong winds permit natural drying of the rice threads, had long enjoyed a reputation for producing the best mi fen. Unfortunately, despite its reputation, Hsinchu mi fen in pre-modern Taiwan was market-restricted by a combination of poor transportation facilities and a lack of suitable packaging. It was too fragile to travel well and difficult to preserve for long periods of time in the absence of really durable, protective packaging. As a result, gourmets in other parts of the island had to get by with less-desirable, locally produced mi fen.

Economic development in the ROC's post-war era provided remedies for both of these problems. Modern highways and an improved rail network facilitated distribution of the mi fen, and newly available plastic packaging protected this perishable product from the ravages of insects and humidity. Today, Hsinchu mi fen, packaged in hygienic plastic, is available in every corner of Taiwan, bringing pleasure to the palates of millions and major vigor to one of the island's more interesting traditional industries.

Such modernization, interestingly, did not extend to the area of mi fen package illustrations. The organization of the industry and cultural conservatism of the producers have, instead, served to make mi fen packaging a preserve for folk art and tradition.

The processing of rice into mi fen in Hsinchu and elsewhere in Taiwan has always been basically a cottage industry, with a multitude of relatively small manufacturers. When these doughty suppliers began to package and distribute their product on an islandwide basis, they had neither the resources nor inclination to adopt Western-style motifs and designs for packaging illustration. Not only was capital in short supply but, like most conservative businessmen in the smaller cities of Taiwan, they had limited contact with the cosmopolitan trends that were already beginning to influence design in many other sectors of the ROC's booming export-oriented economy.

So they stayed with the cultural motifs which have played such important roles in the lives of the Chinese people over the centuries, developing package illustrations that are living tributes to the vitality of China's cultural heritage. Indeed, they include some of the most vivid and interesting folk design currently being turned out anywhere in Taiwan.

First and foremost is the Kung motif, featuring China's God of War Kuan (160-219 A.D.), who appears on Label 1, was an actual historical personage of the period of Three Kingdoms—a general known for his great loyalty and military prowess on behalf of his emperor. In the centuries after his death, this reputation gradually led to his deification. Today, this redvisaged war god is also revered as a patron of literary endeavor and of money-making enterprises.

Kuan's presence on this particular label does not, however, result from this great reservoir of honor and prestige, but from his reputed invention of mi fen itself.

According to legend, Kuan was plagued by a military dilemma of the times. Raw, uncooked rice, the basic military staple, required a lengthy period of preparation before it could be eaten. Moreover, that same rice, once cooked, was highly perishable, so rations normally had to be prepared on a daily basis, a dangerous and time-consuming procedure on the battlefield.

As an alternative, Kuan developed mi fen, an easily preserved form of rice which was lighter to carry and took only a few minutes to fix, even under the most adverse conditions. In light of this singular contribution not only to military efficiency, but the culinary arts (and the Chinese heritage), it's small wonder that Kuan Kung earned his place on contemporary mi fen packaging.

On Label 2, Confucius, China's most noted scholar and teacher, lends his dignity and prestige directly to commercial enterprise. Although it is, really, extremely doubtful that this most respected of sages would have consented to such participation in the mi fen trade, he is an effective, if reluctant, salesman, providing that air of reliability and tradition that is so important to Chinese consumers of all ages.

At first glance, the verdant bamboo bordering the label and the stalks of rice that bracket Confucius seem to clash with the magisterial image of the philosopher; but they do serve an important purpose in the overall integrity of the design. For in old agrarian China, bamboo and rice were as much a part of the fundamental order of things as Confucian ethics and morality. Their visual presence here helps to cement the product's place in tradition as well as to attract urban consumer nostalgia for the simpler rustic life of the past.

The depiction of the Earth God, Tu Ti Kung, on Label 3 represents an even more direct effort to relate mi fen to the uncomplicated life and its natural, wholesome food. Widespread urbanization is such a recent phenomenon in Taiwan that a great many of those who populate the island's now bustling cities spent at least a part of their youth in the countryside and have fond memories of the local Tu Ti Kung (who inevitably resided in a nearby grotto or temple, laboring endlessly to protect the area and its residents from misfortune). The manufacturer who selected Tu Ti Kung for this packaging demonstrated an admirable grasp of marketing psychology, placing the product in the context of Chinese tradition and playing successfully upon popular nostalgia for the agrarian life in much the same way as Western manufacturers of "natural" breakfast cereals do.

Such ties to the land also pro vide central themes for Labels 4 and 5. On the first of these two relatively modern designs, a sturdy, clear-eyed farm youth carries a sheaf of some of the healthiest rice to be found anywhere. The perspective in the illustration, in fact, suggests that the individual stalks must stand at least six feet high in the paddy and produce rice grains the size of walnuts.

Much the same is also true for the rice plant in Label 5. Having dispensed with the farmer entirely, the illustrator of this classic has given us a single stalk with broad, fleshy leaves reminiscent of those found on a tulip, and an ear of grain that promises a yield of al least a bushel per plant.

Despite the visual puffery, the two labels convey a message every bit as effective and convincing as that on the Tu Ti Kung label Both clearly invite the urban consumer to partake in the bounty of nature and cleverly suggest that he is only a single purchase away from the perpetual dream of health and vitality in the countryside.

Labels 6-10

On Labels 6, 7 and 8, dietary concerns and preferences take on even sharper focus. All three feature portraits of the Buddha and are, of course, intended to appeal to the island's sizeable number of believers. At the same time, however, his presence also helps to call attention to the fact that mi fen constitutes the basis for a great many nutritious vegetarian delicacies, a focus of the more health conscious city dwellers. These very traditional designs thus have an unexpected, and perhaps unintentional, contemporary cultural relevance, bringing together Buddhist folk concepts and present day health-food ideas.

The usual stalks of rice adorn Labels 6 and 7, further emphasizing the wholesome nature of the product, while Label 8 is bordered with a chrysanthemum design for the brand name, "Golden Chrysanthemum." The messages of the three are essentially the same, illustrating the tendency of Chinese enterprises to stick with the tried and true. In fact, the only significant variation is the jaunty Chinese "thumbs up" sign of approval for the product offered by the Buddha on Label 6, a theme which finds ultimate expression on Label 9, where only the hand remains.

Labels 11-15

As Kuan Kung's appearance on Label 1 indicates, nutritional benefits and the attractions of pastoral life do not monopolize label motifs. Alternatives abound, with those related to folk beliefs, customs, and history being the most important. On Labels 10, 11, and 12, for instance, the God of Longevity occupies center stage. His popularity on mi fen packaging results from the traditional Chinese association of (long) noodles with long life and the understandable desire of manufacturers to exploit this pairing.

Labels 10 and 11 are relatively simple. The first shows the God of Longevity with a peach and crane, both of which symbolize immortality. On the second, he holds the same peach and a traditional gourd reputed to contain the tonics necessary to achieve longevity. On the third, the deity stands in front of a pine tree, itself an emblem of long life; in this instance, he is accompanied by one of the children who carried the peach from which he, himself, first emerged.

All three of these variations on the longevity motif are extremely common throughout Taiwan, in both traditional and commercial contexts, in a nearly endless variety of styles and colors. Those found on mi fen packaging are, nonetheless, notable. With their simple lines and single-color printing, they exhibit a vibrancy lacking in many slick, contemporary renditions.

Matsu or Sheng Mu, who appears on Label 13, evokes a somewhat different set of associations. This Taoist patroness of sailors is immensely popular throughout Taiwan for reasons that have a good deal to do with the geography and history of the island, which is basically a land of immigrants. The first settlers, from ancient Fukien Province, made the crossing from the Chinese mainland in small craft ill-suited to such a perilous voyage. On their safe arrival in Taiwan, they and their descendants attributed their successes in navigating the treacherous Taiwan Straits to the intervention of Matsu.

In a society where tradition continues to run strong, and a considerable number of people still depend upon the sea for a livelihood, it is hardly surprising that Matsu continues to command a huge following, or that her image should appear on commercial packaging. She enjoys immense popular respect and could, without exaggeration, be considered the cultural and spiritual mother of Taiwan. As a result, anything with her picture on it is almost certain to win approval and —everything else being acceptable-substantial sales.

The designers of Labels 14 and 15 were more modest in historical approach. Both examples feature drawings of the old East Gate in Hsinchu, one of the city's more prominent landmarks. Its popularity on mi fen packaging stems from the apparent desire of manufacturers to impress upon potential buyers that they are getting the genuine Hsinchu article.

As an added touch, Label 15 has the East Gate flanked by a pair of male phoenix, an undoubted consequence of the brand name "Phoenix City," which appears at the top of the label. Actually, the connection is once-removed. Hsinchu has long been known as "the city of winds," which, as has already been noted, contributed to its initial rise as a center for mi fen manufacture. Since the Chinese characters for "wind" and "male phoenix" have the same pronun­ciation (feng), the manufacturer elected to use a clever play on words in his brand name. The phoenix also allows for more evident graphic possibilities than a wind.

A great many other creatures also appear on mi fen packaging, some linked closely to specific traditional beliefs and practices, others apparently owing their presence just to the longstanding Chinese affinity for themes related to nature.

Labels 16-20

The classical fish design on Label 16 has definite roots in tradition, since the characters for "fish" and "superfluity" have a similar pronunciation in Chinese. As a consequence, the fish has, over the ages, come to be considered a symbol of abundance and wealth. Although it is difficult to establish any particularly close relationship between this theme and mi fen, other than its role as table bounty, the label offers a quality design that ranks it among the more attractive examples of mi/en package art.

Labels 17 and 18 take us right into the farmyard. Both feature likenesses of that strutting king of domestic fowl, the rooster. Wreathed in the usual stalks of rice, these specimens also remind poten­tial consumers of the countryside and the benefits of the life there. Aside from this vague association, there seems little other direct promotion of the product. The rooster motif is, nevertheless, a popular one, found with considerable frequency on mi fen packaging.

Label 19 pictures another feathered creature, a slightly obese eagle or hawk, a presence that can probably be explained in terms of the raptors being generally attractive, and well-thought of in China. The eagle is occasionally seen carrying a rosary in Buddhist motifs.

Labels 21-25

A like appeal explains the use of tigers on Labels 20 and 21. The tabbycat-like example on the first and the fierce­-looking specimen on the second bear only limited resemblance to the feline of classical Chinese design, but seem basically Western in conception. It appears that the designers were seeking to fashion labels with traditional themes but an untraditional illustration. Although motivations for such efforts are understandable in view of the pervasiveness of modern Western influence in Taiwan, the resulting designs look neither Chinese nor particularly modern. Like many other examples of commercial design on the island's lower-cost domestic products, such hybrids look as if they had come out of the 1920s.

The "White Elephant Brand" illustrated on Label 22 is also subject to time and identity problems. Elephants have well-defined places in the menager­ie of traditional Chinese animals, where they are noted not only for their strength and intelligence, but their important role in Buddhist belief and mythology. Nonetheless, the creator of the label turned to an essentially Western version of the animal, lessening the impact of tradition on potential consumers and leaving the entire label in much the same position as Labels 20 and 21 above.

The decidedly grumpy crocodile on Label 23 represents a somewhat different case, since this reptile does not figure prominently in Chinese tradition. Its presence here is undoubtedly related more to present day fashions and preferences, such as the popularity of imported sportswear bearing crocodile and alligator logos. The crocodile on this package is essentially a newcomer, trapped in a traditional mi fen label format.

Much the same holds true for Labels 24 and 25, which can really only be described as bizarre. On Label 24, one of the many Japanese cartoon characters popular in Taiwan stands encircled, hoping for a means of escape from a totally alien environment. The bemused Santa Claus on Label 25 also looks for a way out-from a rice paddy, so he can return to his North Pole home.

Are these last indicative of future trends in mi fen packaging and commercial packaging in general? Can we expect more foreign motifs and peculiar cross-cultural conglomerations such as Labels 24 and 25? Will flashy Western packag­ing become the order of the day in the mi fen industry?

Fortunately for those who enjoy the lively and expressive Chinese folk motifs, the answer to all of these is almost certainly, "No."

Chinese culture has proved exceedingly resilient, and the people of the Republic of China on Taiwan are actively conscious of being part of one of the world's great civilizations. It is highly unlikely that they will ever totally abandon the various folk designs and motifs so central to popular expression of this culture. In fact, in the case of mi fen and other food products which can be identified as being uniquely Chinese, it is probable that traditional motifs will become even more prevalent in the future.

As has already been noted, the urban residents of today's Taiwan are beginning to think more about their rural roots and some of the benefits of the agrarian life of the past. As society continues to modernize and the pace of life becomes more feverish, they are likely to seek out those products and labels that enable them to express such feelings.

At the same time, the structure and economic imperatives of the mi fen industry should help to ensure that such cultural and psychological customer needs are fully satisfied. The industry remains fragmented, with numerous small-scale manufacturers. And most firms still lack the capital and expertise to develop elaborate Western style packaging and label designs even if the demand existed. They have to make do with basic plastic packaging and one or two-color printing (which provide such excellent mediums for the simple motifs favored by both producers and consumers).

Everything still points to long and busy careers for the host of traditional characters that currently dominate Taiwan's mi fen package labels.

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