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Taiwan Review

Furniture over the ages of China

September 01, 1985
Over 5,000 years ago, according to China's oral legends, a man by the name of Yu Chao Shih taught the Chinese how to build wooden dwellings in the trees to keep them safe from wild animals; just several hundred years later, the Yellow Emperor, another legendary figure, bestowed the techniques of above-ground palace building.

Definite historical records finally do, establish that during the Shang Dynasty, which began about 3,600 years ago, carpentry was already a fairly well developed Chinese art. And from that time on, the special characteristics of Chinese architecture were recorded in historical works, archaeological journals, travelogues, etc., leaving us a fairly complete survey.

However, of the major furnishings which adorned the insides of the ancient structures, relatively little information, written or otherwise, exists. Even the renowned Marco Polo, a keen observer during 26 years of travel through the Orient, including China, who provided detailed descriptions of the grand palace of the Yuan emperors, failed to mention hardly one item of furniture inside.

Furniture in early China was looked on mostly as utilitarian, and the people who made it, as artisans rather than artists. Consequently little need was seen for detailed records, one of today's greatest frustrations in mapping out the history of Chinese furniture development

We can conclude from the evidences we do find that though woodworking craftsmanship in China developed very early, the actual appearance of furniture, as we are familiar with it, is a relatively recent phenomenon given China's long history.

Clearly, the best way to study Chi­nese furniture would be to look at the actual pieces themselves. And this is possible for designs from the Ming and Ching Dynasties, which covered a period of time of about 600 years, almost up to the present. Even for the 600 years prior to that, a limited number of surviving pieces is available in private collections and museums around the world.

Yet from the preceding Chinese millennium, when interior design and the use of furniture were going through a transition period of major proportions, there is virtually nothing to be studied. The reason for this, more than anything else, is the simple fact that wood does not have the permanence of such mater­ials as bronze, jade, and porcelain, which come down to us today in rather fine condition, but tends to deteriorate and decay rather quickly by comparison.

Fortunately, other available resour­ces can be used to gain a reasonable understanding of the evolution of furniture in China. Among them are ancient paintings, wall murals, and stone rubbings-and perhaps the most useful, certain items from tomb excavations.

The ancient Chinese buried their dead with those items (or models of items) which might be needed in the next world. In the case of a less than well-to-do family, this might mean only a few basic items, whereas a noble or member of the ruling class might be buried with his entire household in very ancient times, including his servants.

Among those items recovered from tombs throughout China, a portion are furniture, mostly in miniature semblance and constructed of clay for convenience's sake, yet all the same, allowing us a basic understanding of the furnish­ings of the period in which the model was made.

The relatively late appearance of furniture in China was most certainly a matter of choice and custom rather than crafting capabilities. The Shang Dynasty civilization of 3,600 years ago was a very advanced one, skilled in such arts as bronzecasting, astronomy, silk weaving, palace construction, and—carpentry. Then why no furniture?

Hsi ti erh tso, sitting on a mat spread on the ground), was the custom for everyone, prince and commoner alike. Proper etiquette demanded that one sit with the legs tucked underneath and the upper body erect (in a position which is recognized incorrectly by many as being Japanese in origin, and called seiza). An armrest could be used under the left arm, and in less formal situations it was acceptable for men to sit cross-legged, and with the legs off to one side for women.

Sitting with legs hanging in front vertically, as has long been the European custom, was regarded as uncivilized, as evidenced by the original Chinese term for chair, hu chuang (barbarian couch or seat).

Further on, the chair and its role in the development of furniture in China will be treated in more detail; it suffices now to note that the Chinese custom of sitting on mats was one that prevailed for many centuries after the Shang Dynasty and was a major influence in the later development of furniture in China.

Following the Shang, in the Chou Dynasty (which divides into the Western Chou and the Eastern Chou), a couple of interesting historical items help indicate the level of carpentry achieved.

China found itself divided into many small competing states in the latter part of the age. A chaotic time politically, it was, nevertheless, rich in terms of cultural development. From one of these feudal states, Lu, Confucius' home, came two carpenters worthy of mention.

Kung Shu Pan, now also known as Lu Pan, was so extraordinary a carpenter that, in that day, his name was known far and wide. Later generations of Chinese, to this very day, came to acknowledge him as patron saint of the Chinese carpentry arts; every year on the 13th day of the 5th month, ac­cording to the lunar calendar, special ceremonies are held in his honor. A modern carpenter who does outstanding work is still sometimes praised as "Lu Pan back on earth".

A revealing insight into the level of development of carpentry during the Eastern Chou period is provided in the Taoist classic, Chuang Tzu. It concerns a carpenter named Ching, who was also an official of the state of Lu in charge of carpentry.

"I am only a craftsman," Ching replied. "Of what artifice can I speak? There is one thing, however: When I am preparing to make a bell-stand, I take care to preserve my vitality. I need, first, to fast to empty my mind; after fasting three days, I no longer concern myself with acclamation, rewards, or promotion. After fasting for five days, I no longer think about criticism or praise, skill or crudeness. After fasting for seven days, I suddenly forget that I have a body with four limbs; at that time the noble lord and his court no longer exist for me. My skill is now concen­trated, and all outside distractions have faded away.

"I then go deep into the mountain forests, where I observe the individual natures with which Heaven has endowed its trees. Then I see the bell-stand as if before my eyes. All that remains is for me to put my hand to my task, and if not, I do nothing. In this way I match es­sences of Heaven with essences of Heaven, and people think that mine is the work of a spirit or god."

Such bell-stands still hold bronze bells used during Chinese ceremonies of worship.

From the above passage, it can be seen that at least in appreciation, the art of carpentry in China was not only highly developed at a very early period, but it is likely that its techniques were also. However, the furniture that Lu Pan or Ching may have crafted can only be imagined; very few such items from that era have made it down to the present.

A tomb in Hunan's Changsha region did yield a lacquered table and various armrests, which have been dated from the 5th-3rd Centuries B.C.—the latter part of the Eastern Chou. These pieces all feature mortise and tenon joints, always a special characteristic of Chinese furniture.

As a matter of fact, the art of joinery as used in Chinese furniture is a whole study in itself. It was developed to a degree whereby whole pieces could be held together strongly without nails, screws and, in many instances, glue. Probably, the West has never ap­proached China in terms of the complex variations of its joinery. Not only did such fine work prove more sturdy, it also made repair and shipping of furniture pieces easier.

The pieces recovered in the tomb near Changsha were finished in a Chinese lacquer made from the sap of the "varnish tree," as it is referred to in the West. This lacquer should not be con­fused with the famed carved red lacquer, which was developed much later. Definitely in use by the time of the Shang Dynasty, and reputed to have been used on ritual ware for the legendary Emperor Shun during the 23rd Century B.C., such Chinese lacquer requires great skill in application to prevent the successive coats from cracking as they dry. When finishing, the lacquer is polished to a hard, brilliant sheen, a method of choice for furniture pieces of high quality" even today.

Also recovered from the Changsha tomb was a wooden couch more than two meters long, with lacquered-wood top, six legs, and metal edging. This type of seating platform was to become most common during the latter part of the Han Dynasty; during the Eastern Chou it was still relatively rare.

In the next major dynasty, the Han (206 B.C.-220 A. D.), more varied articles of furniture come into use, evidencing further development of the furniture maker's arts. The most significant of these advances was in box construction, from a base in ancient designs dating back over 3,000 years.

At the beginning of the 20th Centu­ry, a bronze platform excavated in Shansi Province was dated back to the beginning of the Western Chou Dynasty. Believed to be a bronze repro­duction of an original in wood, its basic design remained relatively unchanged for 3,000 years. Although Chinese custom during the Han Dynasty was still a long way from the floor mat to sitting on chairs, the beginnings were there in widespread use of the box construction, or platform structure, as it is also known.

This basic design was employed for couches, beds, tables, etc., with changes only in dimensions. Twice as long as wide-a bed; small and square, a seat for one person. Such pieces are illustrated in the paintings of Tsin and Tang Dynasty painters Ku Kai-chi (circa 345-411) and Yen Li-pen. When used as a couch platform for reclining, sometimes a small table for eating or reading might be placed on top. When higher chairs eventually came into use, this same large structure was also made higher to serve as a table. An example is seen in the Tang Dynasty painting Court Musicians.

Although in Han Dynasty China the chair had not yet come into general use, there is evidence to suggest that it was known about that time, or perhaps even earlier. (As noted previously, the sitting style enforced by a high chair would have constituted a serious breach of eti­quette in old China).

A small bronze excavated in Honan Province and dated around the 1st Century B.C. shows a small figure seated on a chair; the legs are crossed rather than hanging down. And it is quite possible that the Chinese, during the early evolution of the chair, might very well have sat on it cross-legged rather than in the conventionally accepted positions of later ages. This may be further substantiated by the fact that some of the earliest chairs, as depicted in stone rubbings and funerary items, are somewhat wider than later chairs, which might have been to allow for the added room needed to sit cross-legged.

Where the Chinese obtained the ideas for their chairs can not be said for certain, although there is archaeological evidence that non-Chinese tribes bordering China used chairs as early as the 5th Century B.C. The fact that the earliest Chinese name for the chair was hu chuang, which as previously noted means barbarian couch or seat, also indicates the possibility that the chair was originally borrowed from such bordering tribes.

Some researchers have stated rather emphatically that the Chinese of the Han Dynasty and prior periods had absolutely no chairs as we know them. Whether or not the chair was familiar to some in Han China-as based on various evidences, it might well have been-it is clear that its widespread use was still centuries off.

Other articles of furniture from Han Dynasty China are relatively rare. A few excavated armrests, small tables, and lacquered screens are about all that have survived.

The period from the end of the Han Dynasty through the Tang Dynasty saw great development in Chinese furniture. Outstanding examples of Tang Dynasty furniture preserved in the Japanese Sho­soin treasurehouse at Nara were mostly gifts from Chinese emperors of the time. In addition, there are furniture references in some paintings and historical records from this period.

Paintings by the Tsin Dynasty artist Ku Kai-chih and the early Tang painter Yen Li-pen, both previously mentioned, show clearly the development of the plat­form structure. By the time of the Tang Dynasty, chairs had become much more widespread.

The Japanese monk Ennin, in an ac­ count of his travels through China, makes mention of the chair, already called by its now modem name, yi. What is most interesting, is that the Tang Dynasty, since it was transitional with regard to Chinese furniture, did not do away with the custom of sitting on mats on the floor or on platforms once chairs became popular, but retained both customers simultaneously. In fact, as the Yuan Dynasty, it was not considered inappropriate to sit on the floor, as indicated in the following excerpt from Marco Polo, describing seating arrangements for meals in the court of the Yuan Emperor.

"The tables are arranged in such a manner that the Great Khan, seated upon his elevated throne, can overlook the whole. It is not, however, to be understood that all those who assemble on such occasions can be accommodated at tables. The greater part of the officers, and even of the nobles, on the contrary, eat, sitting upon carpets in the halls.... "

The Tang Dynasty period in China is known for rich cultural and artistic development. Poetry, literature, the fine and performing arts all experienced a great surge forward during the golden age of the Tang Dynasty. The develop­ment and design of furniture were not excluded. Social gatherings were popular; quite naturally, furniture played its part.

The elegance of the furniture can be seen clearly in the previously mentioned Tang painting, Court Musicians. The female musicians are seated on wooden stools covered with quilted cushions. Al­though the splay of the stools' feet is somewhat exaggerated, the basic style is correctly portrayed. It has been said that in Tang times, a stool was considered the ideal pedestal for a seated woman, displaying the curve of her back, neck, and shoulders to best advantage, while not compromising her modesty. The table, an elegant rendition of the box construction, perfectly matches the stools. .

Another interesting design develop­ment, which seems to have started around the beginning of the Tang Dynasty, is the table with splayed legs, usually eight of them. Some illustrations of this are preserved in private art collections in Japan, but can also be seen in a painting by the Tang poet and artist Wang Wei, now in the collection of the Osaka Municipal Museum.

The Sung Dynasty, which followed the Tang after a period of about 50 years, continued onward with the cultural renaissance. Furniture styles became more elegant and refined. There are references to various types of furniture in historical writings on the Sung Dynasty; some of the pieces were crafted from the highly prized purple sandlawood, and some inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Unfortunately, there are not many extant examples of such Sung furniture today.

In addition to further refining previous styles, the Sung Dynasty also added some original touches. One innovation was dubbed the "Drunken Old Man's Chair" (tsui weng chu yi). Although this chair style is officially credited to the Ming Dynasty, its prototype clearly took form during the Sung Dynasty. A derivation of the "barbarian seat," it profferred a much larger than usual angle of reclination and a rest on top against which to lean one's head—in some ways, a prior Chinese version of the contemporary Western recliner. Also invented at this time was the expanding banquet table, another familiar item in modern Western dining rooms. One or more removable leaves could be added or taken out of the center of the table to either increase or decrease its size, depending on the number of people to be seated. During the Ming Dynasty, this type of table came under criticism as being heavy, expensive, and impractical; again, there are parallels in modern times.

The succeeding Yuan Dynasty was of Mongolian origin and was short-lived, lasting only ninety years. Its influence on the development of furniture in China was a mere stepping stone from the Sung to the Ming, the dynastic period in which the furniture arts reached their zenith in China.

The Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) issued in further refinements in wood selections and joinery techniques and also engendered a revolution in design. Striv­ing for simplicity and proper proportions—with a minimum of extra embellish­ments, such as excessive carving, etc.—the furniture Itself, in many instances, was a philosophic statement of the scholar class, which sought expressions of naturalness and simplicity in the things around them. Not that extrava­gantly carved and decorated furniture was non-existent during the Ming period; it is the new designs, however, that crown the Ming as the golden age of furniture making in China.

One Ming scholar known for his views on simplicity and taste in. the management of furniture and interiors was Li Yu (1605-1679). Born at the end of the Ming Dynasty, he was a poor scholar who treasured the naturally beautiful (not a rare phenomenon among Chinese scholars) and developed an equal dislike for garish displays of wealth which, he felt, destroyed real values. Hsien Ching Ou Chi, one of his many books, is a compendium on, seemingly, almost everything from flower arrangements, to cooking, to antiques, and including several chapters on furniture and interior design. Regarding principles for arranging one's house, he asserts:

"Avoid the frenzy of luxury. What costs little is often more valuable.... Luxury and expensiveness are the things most to be avoided· in architecture. This is so because not only the common people, but also princes and high officials should cherish the virtues of simplicity. For the important thing in a living house is not splendor, but refinement; not elaborate decorativeness, but novelty and elegance. People like to 'show off princely splendors not because they love them, but because they are lacking in originality. Besides trying to show off, they are at a total loss to come up with something else...."

The principles espoused by Li Yu are equally applicable to furniture design and, in fact, typify the attitude prevalent among the scholar class of his day. Li specifically stressed practicality in furni­ture design:

"In considering the construction of commodes, there is really no special wisdom or skill involved. Those which effectively hold a large number of things are the best. Those huge commodes which hold little are not as good as small, bow-sided ones. A commode is only practical if it has -shelves in it." He continues on in praise of drawers:

"Drawers are one thing we can never have too many of; their usefulness is infinite. One needs to divide each large drawer into smaller compartments to keep the various items separate. Ali example is the herb cabinet found at the (Chinese) pharmacist. It is arranged according to the governmental system of antiquity: Everything is exactly where it belongs. If the great Chinese doctor of old, Pien Chueh, had not had such a cabinet, he would not have had time to cure his patients. Yet such an article furniture is useful not only to doctors, but to everyone, students and scholars alike. It saves one the trouble of always trying to find things."

Perhaps Li Yu's greatest "show of practicality and imagination, and his greatest invention, is the warming seat. In ancient China there existed no central heating, and small braziers would be lit in different parts of the room for warmth. This, however, was costly in terms of fuel and filled the room with ash.

In a room with only two small braziers, as Li Yu puts it, "The trunk of the body is in winter and the limbs in spring. And the ears, eyes, heart, and mind are like abandoned vessels:" Consequently, he designed the warming chair.

Although his complete description is rather lengthy, in principle, it specifies a very wide, enclosed armchair, the bottom and a' side of which are fitted with two places to hold (smokeless) coals. By cradling the whole body in heat, so to speak, the fuel use is very efficient. Li claimed that he could stay warm the whole day on just four small coals. He could read, sleep, eat, and even, on occasion, go out visiting in his warm chair—he had designed in-built places for the insertion of two poles, so it could be carried like a sedan chair. Waxing eloquent, he claimed it could take the place of the young son sent by his parents to pre-warm their bed, or of a beautiful woman who lends a warm shoulder in the winter.

Li Yu's search for practical and aes­thetically pleasing furniture designs reflected a fashion of the times among the Ming scholar class. Not only have many of the resulting furniture designs persisted over the centuries to follow, to the present day, but they also influenced the greatest European cabinet-makers, Chippendale among them.

In general, southern China furniture styles tended to be more elaborate and ornate, while those of the north were simpler—and more sober—in comparison. The furniture of cold, northern China especially featured the kang, a heated platform which (unlike Li Yu's warming chair, which was probably the sole example of its kind) set a standard of winter-heating practicality and economy for the ages.

Heated either by a series of pipes connected to a fireplace or by placing coals in a brazier beneath it, the kang was the center of family activity during the cold months. Usually made of polished bricks, with mats on top to defeat the hot spots, it might have small tables placed on top for eating or studying. Often, a kang was big enough so the whole family could sleep on top, among the quilts and small cabinets for storing various things. During the most frigid weather in the north of China, a few steps away from the kang could mean differences of tens of degrees in temperature.

The Ching Dynasty (1644-1911) suc­ceeded the Ming, embracing China in Manchu rule. In the beginning, the new, alien rulers engaged in all-out suppres­sion of scholarly gatherings for fear the Han educated class might conspire against them. The generally oppressive atmosphere also tended to put a damper on the arts, furniture design among them.

Not that furniture makers did not continue with the same, quality techniques as previously, but rather that designs and styles of Ching Dynasty pieces tended to be weaker, less aestheti­cally pleasing than their predecessors­—shortcomings compensated for by over­ embellishment. The results, overall, proved less than desirable; not in every instance, of course, just as it is inaccurate to say that everything created during the Ming was an aesthetic masterpiece. But by and large, such was the case.

There are, however, quite a large number of extant pieces from the Ching, more than from any other period of Chinese history, since it was the last and most recent dynasty. This plentitude makes it considerably easier to understand the relevant evolution of Chinese furniture.

A number of novels written during the period provide fairly complete descriptions of the interiors of Ching houses-two books in particular, Dream of the Red Chamber and Golden Lotus. The following excerpt from the former describes the main reception hall of a very well-to-do family:

"Entering the main hall, upon look­ing up, one is greeted by a wooden tablet. The frame, copper colored and with carved dragons, has a green base upon which are inscribed the three large words (Chinese characters) Jung Hsi Tang (Hall of Auspicious Glory).... A purple sandalwood altar table, carved in the hornless dragon design, holds an ancient bronze vessel, over three feet high, at its center. Behind it is an ink painting of a dragon. On one side of the table is an engraved ceremonial vessel, and on the other, a glass bowl...."

This brief description typifies the arrangement of the altar table in the main hall of a large house. The table referred to need not necessarily be the family altar: That shape of table, long and narrow and rather high, which may hold several antiques, has come to be com­monly called an altar table.

The wood for the novel's table, purple sandalwood, was traditionally the most precious available to the furniture maker. The majority of purple sandalwood, not to be confused with the fragrant sandalwood burnt as incense, was imported from outside China and was most likely a species of Burmese padouk. The wood itself is dark brown, very heavy with a coarse grain. When rubbed with oil it takes on a dark purplish hue, and hence its name. For those families which could afford it, major or im­portant pieces in a room, such as the altar table mentioned above, would be made of this noble wood.

Another wood very popular for high quality furniture, and almost as highly prized, is what is commonly called rosewood—hua li mu in Chinese. Also imported, this wood is really from several different sources, and species differentiation is difficult. Hua li is a very hard, dense wood, with a finer grain than purple sandalwood. Depending on its age, quality, and finish, hua li's color range is from honey yellow to vary­ing shades of orange.

The Opium War, which broke out in 1840 and climaxed in the sack of Peking by European forces, not only re­sulted in the loss to China of a large pro­portion of the treasures accumulated over various dynasties, it also dealt a blow to the Chinese creative spirit. China did not recover in the short period preceding the final fall of the Ching Dynasty, at the beginning of the 20th Century. Furniture, like many of the other artforms of China, became the object of perfunctory manufacturing operations, lacking in the spark of creativity which had once graced it.

Western styles and motifs were now mixed indiscriminately with those of China. One European observer stated around 1900, that what could be seen 'then in many Chinese houses 'was "a hybrid furniture that belonged to neither hemisphere but combined the ugliness of both." And so the last chapter on the development of Chinese furniture in China's dynastic era was brought to a close.

In more recent years, collectors and connoisseurs have taken a renewed interest in the styles and types of furniture for which the Ming was famous, and in which Chinese furniture making reached its zenith. Perhaps it is still too early to be sure, yet the future for Chi­nese furniture surely will again radiate from the simple and functional design masterpieces of the Ming past.

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