Although glazed tiles have been used for at least ten centuries on the roofs of Chinese temples and imperial buildings, it was only during the Ching dynasty (1644-1911) that craftsmen began decorating temple roofs with complex arrangements of the ceramic human and animal figures called chien nien. The term literally means "cut and glue," and it describes the basic process of making the colorful figures. Although centuries old, the craft is in little danger of dying out in Taiwan because many new temples are being built and old ones are being repaired and expanded. Taoism, Buddhism, and folk religions are part of everyday life, and the large amounts of money being spent on temples is an indication of the greater wealth of society.
The chien nien is one of the most outstanding visual characteristics of these temples, whatever their focus (sometimes several religious traditions are combined within a single temple). They make Taiwan's temple architecture especially striking to believers and tourists alike. To eyes more used to the simpler lines of Confucian temples, the addition of chien nien to a temple roof makes it appear gaudy and cluttered. But closer examination of the figures themselves, as well as their cultural meaning, may well produce a different evaluation.
Chien nien give vivid insights into the history, literature, myths, and religion of China. For example, a complex scene along the peak of a temple roof may tell a story from ancient history, complete with mounted generals, foot soldiers, and servants; or portray a happier scene, with three auspicious gods extending their good will to all viewers from their lofty perch.
Occasionally, chien nien are confused with chiao chih tao, or clay figures, because both are used as architectural decoration. The ceramic used for chien nien is fired at a temperature of over 1,000 degrees centigrade, while the clay figures are fired at less than 700 degrees. The ceramic figures are more difficult to make, but they are especially resistant to the elements and are therefore used more frequently for roof decorations. Clay figures are more commonly found on inside beams and walls where their delicate features are more protected from weathering.
For generations, chien nien craftsmen have made representations of figures and other objects from folk tales, or auspicious symbols such as pagodas, phoenixes, and dragons. In mainland China, chien nien are found primarily in the south. The style originated in Kwangtung Province, "perhaps because of the local practice of shih wan tao, the decoration of small, doll-like porcelain figures used to adorn private homes," says Li Chien-lang, a professor in the Department of Architecture at the Chinese Cultural University.
Later, chien nien were introduced to Fukien Province and then to Taiwan during the late Ching dynasty, when many people moved to Taiwan from that coastal province. Later, when temple construction boomed during the 1920s, a large number of mainland craftsmen crossed the Straits to help decorate the new buildings. These craftsmen can be divided into two groups: the Kwangtung school (especially from the provincial district of Chowchou and the city of Swatow) and the Fukien school (primarily from the district of Chuanchow).
The styles of chien nien found in Taiwan are often designated as being either "Southern Ho" or "Northern Hung." These terms refer to two famous craftsmen: Ho Chin-lung from Kwangtung, and Hung Kun-fu from Fukien. "Ho came from Swatow, an area famed for delicate craftsmanship," Professor Li says. "He focused on posture, and had a partiality for military figures. Hung came from Fukien in 1919. He specialized in detailed workmanship and preferred making civilian figures."
The chien nien added to Tainan's Ching Tang temple in 1928 are considered Ho Ching-lung's most representative work, and the 1919 renovation of Taipei's Lungshan temple is the best example of Hung Kun-fu's work. Most of the skilled chien nien craftsmen in Taiwan today were either the apprentices of these two men or have learned from other members of the two schools.
A scene depicting a Warring States Period battle, done in 1956 by Chiang Ching-lu, one of Taiwan's foremost chien nien craftsmen.
Traditional chien nien turned waste into art, because the figures were constructed from flawed or broken ceramic and porcelain bowls. For instance, master Hung Kun-fu used Japanese bowls to construct the basic elements of his figures. Craftsmen mixed lime, asbestos, syrup, and even honey at times into a soft and plastic mass that was then modeled into the rough contours of human figures, animals, or plants. The skeleton of the objects were made of iron wire. (Today, it is more common to use cement and stainless steel wire when making the basic shape.)
Before a figure dried, the craftsmen would dress it by attaching ceramic fragments, giving it specific form and color. Except for the face, which was specially baked and painted, the rest of the figure's surface area was made from bowl fragments. These pieces usually required shaping before they were added to the still-damp figure. Special needle-nosed clippers were used to cut or break the bowls into desired shapes. Color, size, and the curvature of the bowl fragments all had to be carefully judged by the craftsmen as they deftly built each figure. Hats, clothes, petals, leaves, ocean waves and fish scales—all required skilled selection of materials and careful shaping.
"For instance, the pieces taken from the edge of a bowl, which are less curved, can be used for clothes," Li explains, "while the more curved parts just above the base can be used for something like the haunches of a horse." He adds that fine craftsmanship is by no means easy to achieve. It requires a good sense of composition, otherwise "the figures would look stiff and the animals seem lame." The craftsmen can generally choose whatever color of clothing they want for the figures, except for some historical and folk heroes who are always portrayed the same way. For instance, emperors should always be dressed in imperial yellow, and the general Tsao Tsao, a ruler in the Three Kingdoms Period (220-265), always wears a black hat and red robes.
Taiwan's chien nien craftsmen usually used bowls from Japan or mainland China. Each had specific advantages. Japanese bowls were thinner and easier to cut, chip, and shape, but the colors faded more quickly from the hot sun beating down on temple roofs. Bowls from the mainland rested fading better, but they were too thick to cut with the craftsman's special pincer.
The craft has gone through many changes since it was first introduced to Taiwan several generations ago. "The color, thickness, and curvature make traditional ceramic chien nien look simple, honest, and vigorous—full of the charm of sculpture—although there are no exceptionally bright colors," says Liu Wen-san, a normal school teacher and an amateur folk arts researcher. The use of bowls from Japan declined after the Japanese colonial period ended at the close of World War II.
Today, colored glass is more frequently used instead of bowl fragments in new and recently renovated temples, because it is cheap and readily available, easier to cut and shape, and has brighter colors. "Despite these advantages, glass chien nien look feeble, boring, and gaudy," Liu says. "Glass is too transparent and flat, and the colors are too bright."
A martial scene drawn from the ancient Legend of Deification is crafted in clay figures.
Among the few craftsmen still specializing in the traditional styles, the best known is seventy-seven-year-old Chiang Ching-lu. Chiang was apprenticed to master Hung Kun-fu at the age of 14. "I was good at handwriting and painting," he says, "and liked to mold clay dolls ever since I was little. My teacher thought highly of me and planned to send me to Japan to study painting. But I gave it up for lack of money."
Like many young people during the Japanese occupation (from 1895 to 1945), Chiang became an apprentice in order to learn a craft that would provide an adequate income. During Chiang's sixteen-month apprenticeship, he received no pay, only room and board. "I had to cook in the morning, and mix molding materials and clip bowl pieces during the day and after dinner," he recalls.
According to Chiang, he was the first chien nien craftsman to think of using pieces of glass instead of bowl fragments. "The idea occurred to me one day when I saw the glass chimneys for lamps in a lamp shop," he says. Although he often uses glass for his figures, he has not lost the old skills. "If the customers ask, we will use ceramic," says Chiang's grandson, who is also a chien nien craftsman. Altogether there are ten members of the family, sons and grandsons, following in Chiang's footsteps.
Besides the use of glass, there have been other changes in the craft. For example, all the ceramic pieces are now mass-produced. Craftsmen no longer have to use their special tools to clip and shape them, piece by piece. Nevertheless, mass production has lowered the aesthetic appeal of chien nien, and many people feel that the more recently produced figures pale in quality beside traditional ones.
Over the year, Chiang introduced new techniques. Originally, craftsmen baked the heads of chien nien figures in their own kilns. But oftentimes the results were unsatisfactory. The heads were not hard enough and broke easily because the firing temperature was too low. "Therefore, I molded the heads at home in advance," Chiang says, "then I sent them to ceramic factories for better firing." Other craftsmen soon followed Chiang's example, and eventually factories began mass-producing the ceramic heads.
Besides learning the lessons of his master, Chiang developed his own style as well. For instance, he tends to place more emphasis on the postures of his figures, which is considered the most difficult part of the craft. "This is particularly true of the wrist," says Professor Li. "If one fails to give it the proper angle, the figure looks clumsy."
Unlike Hung or Ho, Chiang favored neither civilian nor military figures. As a result, there is a wider variety in his chien nien. Also, his figures have shorter limbs, are more plump, and are not as tall as those made by his master. Chiang also foregoes preliminary sketches. "I just make them as I imagine them," Chiang says.
"Although Chiang was apprenticed to Hung," Professor Li says, "he lived in southern Taiwan where more of Ho Ching-lung's work can be found. Perhaps that's the reason both masters influenced him." Today, there are over one hundred temples in central Taiwan featuring Chiang's work. "The chien nien at the Chao Tien temple in Yunlin [central Taiwan] were added around 1956, and they are unparalleled over the past four decades, particularly in craftsmanship and color arrangement," Li says. Unfortunately, the figures rarely last longer than fifty years, finally succumbing to weather and age.
A so-called "fair lady" figure stands atop a glass phoenix, and holds one of the temple's lights in her hands.
Chien nien are usually set along the main swallow-tailed ridge at the peak of temple roofs, and on the two so-called hanging ridges that extend down the front of the roof at right angles to the peak. In most of Taiwan's temples, there is usually a pagoda, pearl, or the three gods of happiness, wealth, and longevity at the top-center of the roof. These figures are often flanked by a dragon on both sides, as well as flowers and birds (often phoenixes).
The ends of the hanging ridges nearest the front of the temple roof are called pai tou. These parts of the roof have ornate scenes of chien nien. Visitors to temples can look up at the pai tou and easily see fabulous mythological figures, battles from popular folk tales, and scenes from well-known legends.
The ceramic figures are also placed under the edges of the temple's swallow-tailed or horseback-shaped eaves. Tigers, phoenixes, fish, and hanging baskets of flowers are favored motifs in these locations. Smaller figures are also attached to temple walls.
There are variations in the selection of figures according to the deities enshrined in the temples. Buddhist temples usually do not have chien nien, but if they do, they draw the material for the rooftop scenes from Buddhist scriptures instead of folk tales. "Strictly speaking, the temples with chien nien are not Taoist or Buddhist; they honor folk gods," Professor Li says. The figures sometimes tell about the personalities of the deities. "For instance, some temples enshrining Wang Yeh, a popular folk god, have ferocious figures on their roofs," Li says.
A medium-sized chien nien for a temple roof may cost more than US$40,000, so usually they are commissioned only by temples that receive generous contributions from believer. Some wealthy people decorate their houses with the ceramic figures, but they usually select simpler and more delicate themes. Birds and flowers are preferred, such as scenes with peonies and magpies (considered an auspicious bird).
The vagaries of weather are eventually fatal to all chien nien. Most last no more than several decades. Glass figures are especially delicate and tend to crack, particularly in the summer when there are frequent thunderstorms after scorching, sun-baked afternoons. "It's difficult to find chien nien which are more than fifty years old and still well preserved," Li says.
Although rapid economic growth has resulted in more temple construction and renovation, more often than not the new figures are made of glass, are less original in design, and are of lower quality. Now that more people recognize the superiority of earlier craftsmanship, chien nien are being removed from temple roofs during renovations and safeguarded until they can be carefully remounted.
The lack of apprentices in the craft is another serious problem. Not many young men are willing to choose this line of work because of the long hours and frequent exposure to harsh weather. It usually takes two to three months to complete the chien nien scenes on a temple roof. "Unlike the old days, apprentices now have monthly wages of around US$300," Chiang says. "But talented apprentices work with us for a very short time, then quit to start on their own. Only the dumb ones stay longer."
Only a few chien nien decorate the roof of Taipei's temple honoring the historical military figure Kuan Kung.
The shortened apprenticeship means that the skills are not fully mastered, leading to a decline in standards. "People used to appreciate and require more," Professor Li says. "The customers' requirements in earlier days included the scenes and the figures they wanted, and even the number of mounted and foot soldiers. Thirty years ago, the ordinary man on the street had much greater appreciation for chien nien and was more able to criticize their quality."
Unfortunately, today's customers, even managers of temples, actually know very little about chien nien. Now what matters most is cost: the cheaper the better. The bidding system has made the situation even worse. "The lower the price a craftsman offers, the more chance he has of winning the bid," says one of Chiang's grandsons. "We therefore often fail to win in the bidding because of our unwillingness to lower our quality."
Traditionally, most of the details for each ceramic figure were improvised by the craftsman as he worked. Skills at improvisation and a solid knowledge of folklore were keys to success. But perhaps for the same reasons, the government and the people have not placed as much value as they should have on chien nien. Besides, the development of the craft is not well documented. "The craftsmen don't and can't research, collate, and trace the background of their own creations," Li says. As a result, many principles and skills are lost as masters pas their knowledge to apprentices.
In recent years, scholars and the government have begun to see the need for collating information about surviving chien nien. Since the apprentice system is not as successful as it has been in the past, Professor Li urges the preservation of the craftsmanship by the academic sector. With support from the government's Council for Cultural Planning and Development, Li has already finished a primary field survey covering almost every noted chien nien craftsman in Taiwan. There are only six of these accomplished craftsmen, and most of them are in their sixties and seventies. Although the craft originated on the mainland, there are no known craftsmen still practicing there." Nevertheless, the surviving works on the mainland are still the best," Li says.
Li is currently focusing part of his research efforts on the works by Chiang Ching-lu and his master Hung Kun-fu. "For this, we must hasten to take pictures of the chien nien on the mainland before they disappear," Li says. He also suggests that the chien nien craftsmen should be included in the government's support of outstanding "Master of Folk Arts" as a way to give the craft greater public recognition and to help preserve a particularly colorful folk art.