With their silent, fixed, yet understanding gazes, the images seem suddenly to implant a kind of sentiment, an aesthetic feeling in the minds of viewers, relieving them temporarily of all their worldly disputes, sending them on a tour by imagination into the profundity of the universe—a magnificent "palace of arts."
According to Professor Juan Chang-jui of the archaeology section of the museum, the images of Buddha now on display are works by master artist Shao Lai-cheng, first exhibited half a year ago together with statues by other artists. Since Shao's chi tiao to tai (coreless lacquered) Buddhist images are a significant departure from the ordinary wood, stone, or clay images, as soon as the exhibition ended, Prof. Juan asked Shao to leave his work at the museum for a continued display.
Shao, 70, is considered one of the few masters of unique artistic skills that have barely survived in Taiwan. More than one hundred years ago, Shao's father sailed to Taiwan from Tungan County, Fukien Province. The skills he brought with him had been handed down in his family from generation to generation.
Before the Japanese occupied Taiwan, most of the island's people followed the principles of Buddhism, and the Shao family's Buddhist icon shop became famous, drawing purchasers from far away to the little town of Tamsui in the suburbs of Taipei. Brought up in such an environment, Shao Lai-cheng and his brothers learned the carving skills from their father. Later, however, during the Japanese occupation of Taiwan, much of the public lost its Buddhist orientation and the Shao family business suffered a disastrous decline.
Recalling the first half of his life, Shao's lean visage reveals, like passing clouds, the sorrows and joys of memory. Since demand for the Buddhist statues was dull, the whole family relied on carving seals—stamps and chops—for their living. Later, when Shao took over his father's business, in order to support his own seven children, he also ran a photo shop. When some of his children were grown—ready for school—Shao moved the family to Taipei, where he had to find another way to support his household.
Shao's child is a precious object of humankind
From boyhood, Shao loved to paint. When the family lived in Tamsui, besides carving Buddhist images with his brothers, Shao also produced commercial paintings—portraits of the Goddess of Mercy, landscapes, and human figures on lanterns. During the Japanese occupation, painters from Taipei often went to Tamsui to "draw from nature," and Shao often joined them. He learned oil painting techniques from Yang San-lang. After moving to Taipei, Shao drew on these skills to do set designs and billboards for motion picture companies. In his leisure time, Shao continued to carve Buddhist images.
The family prospered; four of his children went to the United States for advanced studies, then got married and started their own careers there. Shao, unable to refuse his children's entreaties, finally joined them in California in 1972. After having worked hard for many years, Shao was supposed to enjoy a leisurely happiness there, free of worries and care.
However, in the United States, the old man suddenly realized a very important thing that was missing in his life. Perhaps it was but a symbol, but it resulted in his decision to come back to the island.
Shao discovered in the museums in America, that most of the exhibited statuary from ancient China was damaged. The American people, nevertheless, consider them to be treasures, and their museums exhibit them for visitors from all over the world.
One day, while rambling in a grand museum, Shao encountered a group of Chinese Buddhist statues from several thousand years ago. They were now "exiles" in a strange land, like him. He could not control his heart any longer. His childhood memories, his pleasure in family skills, handed down from generation to generation; the fragrance of Chinese culture, the glories of Chinese Buddhist art...and the self-esteem, self-consciousness, delights and shames of being a Chinese—the longing for home—suddenly welled up in his mind. Despite his children's pressures on him to stay, he took a plane back to Taipei. Then, when the plane was still circling above the island, he made the decision to devote his remaining years to the glory of the Chinese Buddhist arts.
Three years have passed since the old master's return. Now, he lives with one of his children on Fuchin Street in Taipei; the narrow balcony of the apartment is his carving studio. He makes frequent trips to the myriad temples on the island in pursuit of his inner passion.
Inspiration from antiquity—An apsaras from the famed Tunhuang Cave frescoes
The island's religious freedom and general prosperity has resulted in an extravaganza of beautifully decorated temples, small and large. The icons housed in them, including Buddhist images, are too many to count. Nevertheless, this very proliferation, Chao feels, has generated a deterioration in the artistic standards for temple construction and, especially, in the art of sculpting religious images. The Buddhist statues at ordinary stores are unbearably vulgar, he says, lacking in artistic beauty.
The Buddhist carvings from the ages of China fill a very important (and glorious) chapter in the art history of the world. Since Buddhism's introduction to China from India during the declining years of the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220), the religion, blended with Chinese culture, has penetrated the lives of all elements of the Chinese people. Over the past 2,000 years, changes in the times, in social customs, and in living conditions of the people of various locales were revealed in shifts in the Buddhist statue carving arts—new, more subtle, and sometimes notably different styles. The solemn grandeur of the giant stone Buddhist statues at Yunkang (from the Northern Wei Dynasty, 386-534), the graceful and poised stone statuary of the Sui (581-618) and Tang (618-906) Dynasties, the colorful and splendid works of the Late Tang Dynasty, and the amiable demeanors of the Sung Dynasty (960-1279) images, all express the life philosophies of the people of their times.
Shao comprehends intuitively the manifest difference between carving Buddhist statues and other objects. To be a fine sculptor in the Buddhist tradition, Shao believes one needs to be a diligent student of Buddhism—to thoroughly understand the origins, and changes, of the religion. He should comprehend the most profound messages of Buddhist scriptures, have belief, and be pious. Shao says that the beauty of Buddhist statuary differs from the ordinary; the "heart" must comprehend as the hands carve the beauty into each religious image. Now, in a society emphasizing automated production, "fine products from slow work" are ever more rare. Since today's apprentices don't "have the time" to study Buddhism, how can they create inspired Buddhist images?
As there are many kinds of men, so are there numerous varieties of Buddhist images. Buddhist statues, Shao asserts, are magnet objects for men's ideals and beliefs. Therefore, each separate Buddhist image may represent a special meaning, and spirit. Those engaging in the Buddhist arts should not neglect such delicate, complicated, and distinctive variations.
Maitreya, the next Buddha, is always depicted as happy and prospering (fat).
His carvings are in accord with the essential significance of the Buddhist scriptures, and, of course, also reflect his own inspiration from the Buddhist scriptures. A standing statue of Dharma, still on exhibit in the Provincial Museum of Taiwan, is expressed in a different spirit, compared with similar carvings by other artists.
After Dharma had come to China from India, Emperor Wu of the Liang Dynasty (464-549) invited him to Nanking to expound on the Buddhist sutras. The Emperor asked Dharma, "Since I have done so much for the propagation of Buddhism, causing the construction of temples and Buddhist images, can these efforts be considered charitable and pious deeds?" "No," Dharma replied. The Emperor did not understand why Dharma did not explain; he did not ask him further questions.
Dharma then, crossed a river on a reed and went to the Shaolin Temple on Honan Province's Mount Sunshan, the highest of the Five Sacred Mountains. There, he meditated for nine years—giving rise to the famous expression "facing the wall for nine years."
Dharma, the founder of the Zen sect of Buddhism, came to China to propagate the belief, overcoming the well-nigh impossible. Therefore, most statues of Dharma are strong, bearded, and the eyes have a piercing gleam, showing his solemnity and strong will. Dharma Facing the Wall has been the favorite subject matter of many artists. Shao, however, particularly loves the following period, when Dharma has just finished his nine years of meditation. It was at that time that the founder of the Zen sect appeared slender and mild. The image Shao has carved shows the end result of nine years of strict and ascetic Buddhist discipline; Dharma is on his way back to India; he wears a cape, and his eyes are gazing into the distance.
To the carving skills he learned from his father, Shao has added instruction from writings about the arts of the various dynasties (which he collects). In China, throughout the ages, many materials and techniques have served the makers of Buddhist images—wood carvers, stone carvers, clay sculptors, iron and bronze casters, silver, gold, and jade workers, and more. Among them all the totai (coreless) lacquer artists are the most unique.
The so-called totai method actually rose from the technique of chiachu (in which a ramie lining is used). Totai images are light in weight and decorated in bright colors, and are particularly admired by both Chinese and foreign connoisseurs. Chiachu is a special way of forming Buddhist ware. The Japanese call it kanchi (dry lacquer) and the Chinese, also totai. It is accomplished by taking the clay as the mold, then applying layers of ramie (a cotton-like cloth) and lacquer. The core can be made of wood, or of hemp cloth with mud. After the core is completed, colored lacquer is applied to the core surface. The tensile force of the cloth and the tenacity of the lacquer result in a covering (lacquered ramie cloth), after drying, hard as shell. The clay core is then removed, and lacquer is applied to both the inside and the outside of the now coreless piece. This technique originated several thousand years ago.
The visage of Maitreya, beaming with the happiness to come—In gleaming hollow lacquerware (chiachu)
According to historical records, the crafting of chiachu ware began—at the latest—during the Han Dynasty (206 B.C.-220 A.D.). Yen Tieh Lun (written by Huan Kuan, of the Han Dynasty) states that, "Today, the wealthy people use silver jars, gold tripods, and gold or jade wine containers. The middle class people use jade and chiachu ware and gold cups." A number of chiachu pieces fashioned during the Han Dynasty were discovered in Korea. In 1916, Japanese archaeologists discovered Han Dynasty tombs in Korea. In 1924, they excavated a tomb containing many pieces of lacquerware. Fourteen years later, Shang Cheng-tso, a Chinese archaeologist, was attracted by excavated lacquerware at Changhsha, Hunan Province, originating in the State of Chu (a powerful Chinese feudal state existing from 740-330 B.C.). He published the volume About the Ancient Relics from Changsha, his comments on the lacquerware constituting the most attractive part of his descriptions. During the following 30 years, important discoveries continued at the same location.
An article entitled Talking about Lacquerware by Shen Fu-wen, a lacquerware specialist, explains that the cores of the excavated Chu lacquerware were generally of four materials—pure wood, thin wood segments joined together and covered in linen, chiachu, and leather. In 1942, the writer had made eight lacquerware pieces patterned after the excavated lacquerware from the State of Chu. Among these, a small, colored lacquer container was made using the technique of chiachu. After its completion, the core was removed, leaving only the shell, indicating, therefore, why secular ware or Buddhist images made using the chiachu method were called, in later times, tokong (hollow), as well as chiachu, or kanchi.
During the Six Dynasties (229-589), the Buddhist statuary arts flourished, and images made by the chiachu method were popular for quite some time. According to historical records, the earliest recorded creator of chiachu statues was Tai Kuei of the Tsin Dynasty (265-420) In Pien Cheng Lun, Fa Lin of the Tang Dynasty writes, "Tai Kuei of the Tsin Dynasty was a skillful man. He supervised the construction of the Chao Yin Temple and made, by himself, five chaichu Buddhist statues, all of artistic value." Tai died in 396. However, in an article entitled A Study of Chinese Dry-Lacquered Buddhist Statues, a French Sinologist in 1923 indicates that the Chinese invented chiachu in the 4th Century at the latest. He rebutted the older view that the technique was invented by the Japanese or introduced by the peoples of the Western Regions (a Han Dynasty term for the area west of Yumenguan, including what is now Sinkiang, and additional parts of Central Asia).
According to the book, The Art of Chinese Lacquer Ornaments, during the Sui and Tang Dynasties, most of the giant Buddhist statues erected in the temples were chiachu products. The first step in their manufacture was to erect a wooden framework made of thin strips of bamboo. Ramie, rice straw, mud, and lacquer ashes were applied to the frame, and the mold was smoothed, then lacquered. After the eyes of the statue were painted in, the wooden frame inside the statue was removed to reduce the weight. Such Buddhist statues are easily carried in the colorful religious processions and festivals that honor local deities.
Sculptor Shao Lai-cheng and companion
In 743, during the reign of Emperor Hsuan of the Tang Dynasty, the monk Chienchen of the Tayun Temple in Yangchow was invited to spread the Buddhist doctrine to Japan. The techniques of making chiachu images were introduced to Japan with his mission. After the introduction of the method to Japan, the art was popularized across the seas. That is why many are only aware of the Japanese term for "dry lacquer," instead of chiachu.
Chou Mi of the Sung Dynasty mentioned in his Kuei Hsin Tsa Shih Pieh Chi seeing 500 Bodhisattva images, crafted in the Sung Dynasty, at the Kuang Chiao Temple. The 500 were probably all chiachu statues. During the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1386), the chiachu method was called "tuanhuan", "tuanwan", or "tohuo".
Yu Chi of the Yuan Dynasty mentioned tuanhuan techniques in his Tao Yuan Hsueh Ku Lu: "First, cover the clay mold with pieces of cloth, then lacquer it. Then, take out the mold. The shell of cloth and lacquer will be a Buddhist image with a dignified air. People of former times frequently engaged in this art. Liu Cheng-feng was especially good at it. Now, people at the capital also refer to tuanwan as tohou."
According to author Yu, chiachu was popular from the 3rd Century B.C. to the declining years of the Chin Dynasty. The development of the techniques was closely related to the prosperity of the Buddhist statuary "industry." During the heyday of the art, it was widely employed, and not just confined to the making of the images.
Because chiachu ware and statues are light and easy to carry, many of China's national treasures in this genre found their ways to foreign lands. Among them, a Tang sitting Buddha—97 cm tall, solemn, simple clothes lines, peeled-off golden paint, incomplete hands—is now in the collection of the New York City Museum. According to the 1923 article by the French Sinologist, this image was purchased by the museum from a Japanese collector of antiquities named Yamanaka. The article said that Yamanaka had brought with him to the United States, more than three chiachu statues. The whereabouts of the rest are unknown.
During the Ching Dynasty (1644-1911), lacquerware made using cloth or silk fabric and lacquer were called totai. The Imperial Court of the Dynasty ordered the production of a great number of red lacquered dishes, bowls, and plates in the shape of chrysanthemums. On the mainland, before the Eight-Year War of Resistance against the Japanese, Foochow, Fukien Province, and Soochow, Kiangsu Province, were the main producing centers.
Despite his advanced age, Shao still works hard making Buddhist images. Every step is time-consuming; he is scrupulous about every detail. For example, according to his experience, the lines of a statue are not fine enough, using the old methods of directly applying ramie and raw lacquer to a clay mold. He has improved the technique by adding another procedure. He first makes a clay mold, then reproduces it in plaster, which can be more easily carved into delicate detail. Next, a layer of small pieces of ramie cloth is applied, and this is painted with raw lacquer. When the lacquer dries, Shao repeats the same procedure again. Altogether, five layers of ramie and lacquer will be applied to the mold. He then starts to modify the detail, using a colloidal substance of blended plant ashes and raw lacquer to make with its thin, long threads, the accessories a Buddhist statue wears. This step is called tsohsien (the making of lines). The whole production procedure is very complicated. Usually, it takes at least three months to complete a statue of this kind.
His love of the art of carving Buddhist statues shone in the old man's eyes as he discussed the details. During the exhibition at the Taiwan Provincial Museum, many curious young men came up to ask questions. Shao was always patient enough to re-explain the "carving" method and origin of each of his works.
Currently, still cherishing high aspirations, Shao is actively campaigning to establish a research institute on Buddhist art. He hopes that people with a deep interest in the area can get together and write new chapters for the several thousand year history of Buddhist imagery.
Art critic Lai Chuan-chien once commented, "The beauty of Buddhist images lies in their boundless mercy, which can hardly be described by words. They possess incredible dignity and placidity...." Of Shao's displayed statues, a sleeping arhan and a Buddhist monk carrying a sack on his back especially depart from the regular solemnity of Buddhist figures. Shao vividly unfolds the comfort and ease of the arhan and the generosity and magnanimity of the monk, drawing lurking smiles to the faces of their viewers.
Standing before the image of the Goddess of Mercy, after a long gaze, the viewer begins to see in her merciful face and the expression of the eyes a beauty rare to the mortal world. The statue is projecting the devotion of the carver. Who would believe that such a statue, made by the totai method, is totally "heartless!"