tang dynasty times

amber dreams

   

Last night, I dreamt about political philosopher and Sinologist Daniel A. Bell. 

Let me preface that.

Bill and I are talking about reading one of Bell's books along with a certain, mysterious Professor A. Ku. Trying to decide between Bell's East Meets West or his Beyond Liberal Democracy, we are aiming to chat about the book here in mid-December and welcome others to join us. In the words of Bill, "the more the merrier."

To be totally up front about my own project (which of course I have), more than discussing how Bell's ideas can be mapped to western philosophical conventions, I am interested to see whether Bell illuminates the Asian perspective as a method within its own context. That, to me, is the only really interesting question-- how to push back the boundaries of our own ontological limitations (of which it seems we have many).

Anyone in? (How about it, Taipei, Chicago and Romania?)

Anyway, back to my dream. It was mid-Winter and Bell was in Tokyo for a lecture. I had agreed to pick him up at his hotel and escort him to the lecture hall and was racing through Tokyo Station thinking about the things I wanted to talk with him about. It was the morning rush hour and the station was packed with people rushing toward the exits in thick coats, bracing themelves again the northern wind which was howling outside.

I thought, I really would like to know if the recent huge down-turn in Japanese public opinion toward China was making the news in China-- or whether America remains the main issue on people's minds (the elephant in the room that everyone is still talking about?).

And does the public opinion reflect what is happening on a governmental level? The gyoza scare was huge here and it took a really very ugly turn I thought. Despite that, I seem to recall recently reading that Japanese investments in China were at an all-time high.

Just the other week at a Ladies Lunch (I remain convinced that ladies lunches are things that go on for eternity in hell), the ladies turned to the topic of China and you know things are really bad when your Japanese friends start talking like this, but wow, even I was speechless. Not that I disagreed with anything they were saying: from the environment to contaminates in the food everything was hidoi (terrble and unbelivable). At the same time, looking around the table, I did take note that it was the ladies who gave their kids the greatest volume of cheap plastic toys made in China or bought the ready-made food who were complaining the loudest. Because, in fact, this was only an issue to them because it was directly affecting them-- but, of course, it would not be directly affecting them if they had chosen to purchase with more conscience (there you have it-- a Peony opinion, for what its worth). 

Anyway as I located Bell's hotel room and was about to knock at the door, I wondered if he would have much to say about this-- or if he had noticed the avalanche of Japanese books devoted to this topic of a dangerous, rising China that have been published over the past year. My words, however, got caught in my throat for when he opened the door, he had in his hands this gigantic piece of amber. Behind him, the curtains were open and a strong shaft of light was hitting the amber just right too, for it was glowing. And, there in the middle of the honey colored, glimmering chunk of amber was a million year old red bug.

What could this mean, I wondered? (Even in my dream it was all so unexpected).

He said that he wanted to get his coat and as he put it on, I noticed that his briefcase was also full of amber. And like happens in dreams, the golden honey color just infused the entire room with color and warm fragrance.

"But I thought you were here to talk about China?"

"No," I am here to talk about my new theory."

I waited for him to tell me what (knowing it must have something to do with that piece of amber in his hands).

"The Three Kings from the East, the Magi, they didn't bring frankiscence, myrrh and gold. What they brought with them on their long trek to the King was frankiscence, myrrh and amber."

**

And that was it. I woke up.

**

Before I went away to college, I attended a lecture series held at the Jung Institute in Los Angeles. It was really very interesting as maybe a dozen or so Jungian scholars and therapists gave various lectures about myths and dreams. I wonder how they would have interpreted my dream-- for it actually left me puzzled.

When I woke up, though, I recalled something I had glanced on NHK a few months ago-- a documentary about Poland. There was the most beautiful castle, not the kind of castle that kings build in times of peace, but a real Medieval castle of the type that gets built in times of siege. Called Malbork Castle, this fortress during part of its long history had its fate tied up with the amber trade-- and indeed, I think the Amber Road might well have ended up in Poland.

Mined along the Baltic, vast amounts of amber traveled along the Amber Road all the way to Rome during the time of the Empire. It also traveled East along the Silk Road-- maybe as far as China (amber was valued for its medicinal properties in the Middle East and perhaps in China as well).The castle now has an amber museum that the Japanese documentary described as being rather important (this amber Hermes is from there, circa 1600)

Not all that far from Malbork, in fact, a Polish Count I know was born and raised till he was maybe 12 or 13. He used to like to call me Atalanta. I liked that very much-- but not for the same reasons as he did.

You may recall the story of Meleager. The Fates had decried that he would only live until that moment when a brand in the family hearth was consumed by the fire. Trying to put off what fate had decided, his mother grabbed the brand and hid it away so that he might lead a long life.

You know fate, though.

Some intrigue involving Atalanta-- whom he probably loved-- led to a violent argument with his uncles, whereby he ended up killing them both. Enraged that her son would kill her brothers, his mother tossed the brand into the fire. He died that instant. His sisters were heartbroken and it is said that their tears turned to amber falling unendingly from their eyes.

Have you ever cried like that? Where even your tears felt heavy-- thick like amber.

**

I wish I could explain that mysterious utterance of Bell's. I have no idea what it means-- though I do love a mystery. I also find myself rather fascinated with tree saps and resins lately.

Between two large projects, I've been trying to finish up a blog post-- part two of Two Emperors and a Shogun-- This time, I'm writing about a great Japanese emperor of the 8th century. Emperor Shomu and his court lived in an exquisite cloud of aromatics; a truly dream-like world of perfumed baths and robes infused with the scent of precious incense brought from the exotic lands to the west.

It's all the stuff of Edward Schafer legend.

There was aloeswood, camphor, and sandalwood from Southeast Asia; cinnamon and musk from Vietnam and Frankinscence from Somiland. Cloves were used to freshen the breath. These aromatics were used to treat both body and spirit as they affected-- according to Professor Schafer-- the totality of the person: body, mind and soul.

One of Emperor Shomu's most valued possessions-- a gift from the Tang court-- was a piece of aloeswood. So precious was this piece of incense, it was given a name: Ranjatai. Only about 61 inches long, the piece of diseased wood weighs some 25 pounds! Native to the aquilaria tree of Southeast Asia, aloeswood has been an important item of trade for centuries and centuries. The tree alone does not produce the wood for incense, however, as the miraculous perfume is only created when an aquilaria tree is infected with a fungus. It is this infection that produces the fragrant resin-like substance. The fragrance is deeply penetrating and is usually described as warm and woody.

The small chips of diseased wood are permeated with this resin, which is what gives it its miraculous perfume, which in this case has lasted 1500 years (It's still stored in Shosoin today).

More similar to myrrh, perhaps, the main ingredient of violin varnish is also resin (which are the solids found in tree sap). There are three main types of resins: amber (made from fossilized sap up to 90 million years old), copal resins (crystallized sap from Mediterranean evergreen trees), and pitch. Made from the sap of a variety of pine species, including the Aleppo pine, it was this last one which was most probably what Stradavari and the other great Cremonese masters used for their varnish.

Adonis' violin probably has a synthetic varnish of course. However, the rosin he delights in using--golden Greek pitch--  is made from the same substance. Can you imagine? The finest, most exquisitely beautiful violin music depends on the delicate interaction of human hand with horsehair bow, sheep gut strings and pine sap.

Any interpretations of my dream?

Alchemy and dreams:
Dreaming of Tibet
Dreaming of Istanbul
Dreaming of Huizong
Dreaming of Daniel A. Bell

Beginning of Winter 立冬 (1)

The Winter Wind 赤城颪

Rittou （立冬）--　Winter begins. And like clockwork, the northerly winds start blowing. This morning I could hear the wind blowing before I even felt its cold stirring; that blisteringly dry, piercingly cold winter wind. Known as kita-kaze 北風　(the "Northern Wind,"） it is part of the Siberian High weather system that so domiminates the weather in East Asia from November till early March.

What is said to be the largest-scale high pressure system on earth, every year a huge cold air front mounts in Siberia. Centering around Lake Baikal, I think I read somewhere that the Siberian High effects winter weather patterns from Canada to Japan. I can only speak for Japan where it brings frosty temperatures. While causing heavy snows in the areas along the Japan Sea, the Siberian High sends its Siberian winds to us on the Pacific side of Japan (where there is little snow).  

Because they blow so loudly, the winter wind is also known as "the wind that comes whistling through the bamboo fence" 虎落笛. In addition to chapped lips and extremely dry and itchy skin, the wind brings beautiful clear skies which are so beautiful you can hardly believe your eyes.

In the Kanto area, the winds also bring back the mountains. 

Bicycling up to the store to buy small fish and cocoa for Adonis, I could barely push against the cold wind, but turning the corner, Nantai-san loomed tall to the northwest. When you see a mountain appear out of nowhere like that, it can take your breath away-- Has that monolith always been there? One wants to ask.

The season of yin is here. Yin, of course, has its challenges. But, blowing in from the mountains, the "yin winds" （陰風) bring beautiful skies and stunningly clear views. Really, what more could a person want? 

Beginning of Winter: Part 2

A shining city upon a hill

  

Back in September, Sam Crane of the Useless Tree wrote an interesting post called, Can a Black Man be Chinese? which generated quite a lot of discussion. You can read the comments following his article for more, but in a nutshell, Sam questioned whether the expansion of China's economy would result in not only greater  globalization in China, but in a "culturalization" whereby, might not someday "a black person become Chinese?"

The question itself, I thought, had fatal problems, begging a lot of important questions-- not least of which is this: Does-- in fact-- globalization put forces in motion that lead inevitably to pluralistic societies?

I think we can look around the world and see that it it probably does not. Globalization can lead to various degrees of more flexible immigration policy and increased foreign labor (high-tech and special economic zones)-- but it has not--so far-- led to the birth of a gaggle of new pluralistic societies-- in the sense of say the US or Australia; New Zealand or Canada. Most developing, globalization countries seem to take different paths-- from highly restrained acceptance of foreign guest workers to out-right human rights violation disasters.

China, too, will most likely choose a course which will be markedly different from what Western observers might hope or expect--but that course will be unique to its history and cultural proclivities (with its own staggering domestic labor force, I doubt we'll be seeing any issues like that in Dubai, for example-- a place where more people probably ought to be looking).

Two things come to mind when I think about China and globalization.

One is that years ago, when I first came to Japan, I read in a guidebook what was probably a stupid piece of advice, and yet it has stuck with me all these years. That is, when Japanese go out into the world, they are shocked to see that other people actually live in ways very much like they do, while Americans going out into the world are shocked to see any place where people are doing things differently from them.

The above is obviously a huge exaggeration (the stuff one finds in guidebooks) But, then again, I do think there are many places, which I shall call the Old World countries, where people remain very conscious of the way in which their culture is unique and non-transferable; while there are other places, which I shall call New World countries, which are shaped by utopian, philosophical notions in which they see their way of life as having model-like qualities-- something to which all cultures could if they so desired strive toward; even in some cases, seeing the modern liberal democratic way as being the culmination of  enlightened development.

And herein lies the tension.

I am just finishing reading Parag Khanna's tour de force book, The Second World (NYT's review here), in which he makes the very crucial point that if the US wishes to continue playing a leadership role in the world, it might have to accept the fact that it is no longer the only game in town; and that, the world is no longer in a post-Cold War state of being whereby there are only two choices to choose from: our way or the highway.

Rather now, in what Khanna calls the geopolitical marketplace, up and coming developing countries, as well as other First World Countries for that matter, can "shop around" and choose to align themselves with one of several superpowers-- or better: align themselves with more than one at the same time- keeping things interesting.

According to Khanna, currently there are three superpowers that stand as empires: the US, the EU and China. So, for example, nowadays a "second world" country in Central Asia might wish to take on aspects of China's "communitarian" traditions (which stress collective welfare and stable, centralized government over over individual, political rights, etc.).

Khanna, in what is the most interesting (to me) aspect of the book, does not see this as a negative situation per se. Indeed, I had just finished Europe-based conservative Robert Kagan's latest book, in which-- Kagan basically painting a similar picture of the current state of the world, still sings the old post-Cold War song of an increased military vigilance in order to maintain hegemony (in order to avoid the old clash of civilizations thing).

In contrast-- a breath of fresh air really-- Khanna is calling for the US to embrace this new world and to perhaps, more like Europe, start thinking more globally itself.

And, that's the rub.

I am re-listening to Dreyfus' lectures on Kierkegaard (trying to get to the bottom of the Knight of Faith), and in the first lecture Dreyfus talks about Plato's play, the Meno, in which Socrates teaches a foreign-born slave how to solve the Pythagorean Therum. Greek civilization and the heights of its cultural achievements were in fact open to everyone (as long as they spoke Greek perhaps?) A slave yes, but even still participation in culture was open to him.

Contrast this, says Dreyfus, to the ancient Hebrews, where their culture was based on a covenent with God-- they were (at least at the start) the Chosen People. Conflicted by this dual heritage, perhaps there is a belief in the universality of our culture coupled with a desire to bring others into the Covenent. (I like to call it "sharing the good news").

Indeed-- and this is my second problem-- it could be said that our melting pot culture itself encourages not a true cultural pluralism but rather a melting of minority cultures into the dominant culture (the concern of anti-globalizationists). As I have written about many times in these pages, I keep seeing the "two-way" Silk Road being held up in European (UNESCO) publications as an alternative-style of internationalism. I pretty much said everything I wanted to say about the topic here. In my post, I held up Penang as an example of what I see as an old-world style cosmopolitanism, but another good example would be Ladakh.

You will recall that was where my pet peeve and I were headed out of Kashmir. Arriving in what still is one of the most most remote spots in India (which at that time had only been open to the westerners for less than 20 years and had only had electricity maybe 10 years) what surprised me most was its stunning cosmopolitanism. This is from my journal from 20 years ago:

At almost 12,000 feet, there are very few trees and everything is the same dusty shade of the mountains. Another Central Asian marketplace, the Leh Bazaar is jammed packed with stalls selling vegetables, live animals, jewelry, Tibetan arts and crafts and clothing. Walking around the bazaar, you just cannot believe how many different races of people found their way to this extremely remote Tibetan place on the Tibetan Plateau. Light-eyed Kashmiris, light-skinned Central Asians, dark haired Indians and Tibetans in their furs, tall hats and turquiose all walked the streets, shopping and enjoying the warm summer weather. Of course, in this remote region, downtown Leh might as well be downtown Manhattan.

Manhattan.

It really did remind me of New York too. The vibrant neighborhoods which for the most part are mutually-tolerant-- it wasn't a melting pot so much as a huge bazaar with two-way trade serving as the main conduit between people-- as Leh has existed right smack in the middle of the pilgrims paths and trade routes that crisscrossed the mountains on the roof of the world since the earliest days of the silk road.  

Khourosh says that to get beyond race and culture and believe in something bigger is ultimately "better"-- so that (in his example) to put being Singaporean above being Tamil or Chinese or Malay is somehow the more enlightened path. But if that just means we all become globalized (Americanized in Tokyo and Sinicized Kashgar) -- is that necessarily somehow better?) And what about those places which place a higher value on social and economic rights over individual liberty and free speech? As Khanna mentions, "Mencius argued that violating the right to food and material well-being is a greater crime than denying political rights." Aren't there other cultural priorities which also make sense?

Mutual tolerance and mutual benefit over ideology; dialog based on trade and culture are perhaps some of the ideas behind this recurrent interest in the silk road. (Indeed, even the Internet is called the New Silk Road).

Khanna too speaks of the Silk Road. In fact, he also sees two forces at work (particularly in Central Asia)-- which he says are the "two metaphors for the regions past as well as its future." These two forces are a Silk Road-style conduit of East-West globalization, as well as "a Great Game laboratory of unambiguous imperial competitition." And this is, I think, the choice before us: ideology and strategic competition or free-trade and mutual tolerance.

Michael over in the Opposite Side of China talks about how really tough it's become these recent years living as an American overseas.To wit, yesterday I received this email note from a friend in Kyoto in which he laments another accidental bombing in Afganistan:

昨日も、米軍がアフガニスタンで誤爆をしたとのことですが、アフガニスタンにしても、イラクにしても、相手の文化のことを理解せず、米国流が正義という考え方では憎悪の連鎖を生むだけですよね。そういう意味では新大統領には期待したいですが。。。

Yesterday there was another mistaken bombing on Afhangistan. In both Afganistan and Iraq, American-style justice which can be devoid of any understanding of other cultures, only breeds a cycle of hatred. For this reason, I am hopeful about the new President's election...

You know things are bad when your Japanese friends start saying stuff like that. As Michael says

I think it's safe to say that we've been exposed more frequently to the dislike/hatred of the United States that's grown over the last eight years during the disastrous Bush administration. I'm looking forward to at least four years of some pro-USA love! 

A little pro-US love.... now that would be refreshing. I'm still holding out for my EU passport, though.

**

Khanna's book is highly recommended.

And this too (by way of languagehat)-- which made me smile and reminded me of the unforgettable music in southern Africa-- so different from the jackhammers in Hongkong (with an ocassional songbird singing) or the air blowers in Los Angeles-- or even from the quiet of Japan... nonstop music.

**

Finally, I added one final comment to Inside a Bronze Ding: Part 3

OK, back to work (this week-- hoping to pick up some tips! Here for pre-modern ways of walking in Japan)

View from Inside a Bronze Ding: Part 3

    

From Xia to Shang
   And from Shang to Zhou....

You know the story: Nine bronze tripods-- caste in the mists of great antiquity-- were treasured by ancient Kings as a symbol of their right to rule.

Passed down from dynasty to dynasty-- for nearly 2,000 years-(or so the story goes) until the time when the First Emperor, Shihuangdi, finally toppled the last Zhou King-- and rather than see their transfer to Shihuangdi’s new dynasty-- the last Zhou King cast them forever into the River Si  (泗水?)

Given their symbolic significance, Shihuangdi actively attempted to dredge up the sacred bronzes from the river, but it was to no avail, and scholars of later dynasties saw this as further evidence of the lack of moral virtue of the First Emperor.

For you will recall the wise words of the Zhou King's steady servant Wáng-sūn Mǎn (王孫満):

The tripods do not matter, virtue does.

Perhaps in one sense different than the regalia of ancient kings of Europe, it was never that the tripods were treasures of state in and of themselves, but rather they served only as symbols of the virtuous character of a wise king-- linking current kings to those exemplary models in the past. In that way, I suppose the tripods had more in common with the Medieval concept of Excalibur. 

Indeed, on that thought, I wonder what powerful object Obama will inherit as his right to rule? Please don't tell me the only thing we've got to pass down nowadays to our kings are launch codes for nuclear weapons...

Epicurus asks me, "What grabs you about the bronzes?"

 

I am too stingy to re-purchase the book, but I think it was Foucault (working off Heidegger) who did the best job of examining the way objects "present themselves" to us differently over time.

Well, one thing which I find so fascinating is the simple fact that they have been greatly treasured in an unbroken line for probably 4000 years-- is that possible? Over such a large expanse of time, it is therefore all the more interesting to think about both the continuity as well as the fluctuations in the way these once sacred objects have been viewed within Chinese culture. (Conrad's ancient Greek tripods have had almost as long a history, and I wonder if their meaning has changed in similar ways over time?)

Although outdated by jade carvings by several thousand years, their appreciation has followed a similar-- though much more dramatic--pattern, I think. As Beurdeley described and I quote in another post, these bronze vessels from the Shang and Zhou dynasties were in huge demand among the elite during the Han dynasty and remained the most highly prized of all the Chinese collectors’ arts-- at least until the great rise of calligraphy much later in history.

Like jade, ritual bronzes were valued, in part, for their great beauty, which appealed to aesthetic preferences perhaps unique to the Chinese. Traditionally valued in China well above gold and precious gems, jade was prized for its soft lustrous color and subtle glowing quality which is so different from the dazzling shimmer of gold and sparkle of diamonds. Even more, jade was valued for its extreme hardness and fine resonance which was likened to music when struck. Bronze, as well as porcelain and the finest scholars’ stones of later times shared these attributes which had, at least by the time of Confucius become associated with concepts of virtue and the moral right to rule.

Also, like Jade, the creation of bronze vessels was highly labor-intensive, and therefore its use was confined to that of the most important rituals of ancient Shang and Zhou kings and aristocrats.The oldest Shang dynasty vessels were used in rituals centered around the sacrificial offering of food and wine to ancestors. Like elaborate banquets for the dead, foods which included meats and grains as well as rice or millet wine and sacrificial water were prepared and presented in bronze vessels and then ritually offered at family altars, often located in a separate structure within a family compound. As British scholar, Jessica Rawson, explains:

 These were essentially family ceremonies in which both the dead and the living took part. The dead remained an integral part of everyday society, requiring the kind of attention also given to living members of the family. The banquets or rituals were a show of respect to the dead so as to ensure that they would help their descendents by interceding on their behalf with the gods and spirits. Without help from the dead, and a proper acknowledgement of their role, human affairs might fail and their descendents suffer.

This was especially so of kings, whose ancestors not only had the power to affect the fortunes of their descendants, but were semi-godlike, having power and influence over the entire population as well. Thus the most elaborate rituals-- more like ceremonies of state than the private rituals held by aristocratic families-- were performed by ancient kings. Highly decorated bronze vessels created in sets played a leading role in these rituals-- containing sacrifices and hosting their preparation.

(With this in mind, it stands to reason that the ghosts of the passage that were being riled to fury were not the collective ancestors of the people but rather were the ancestors of the fish-cooking king).

I was looking through an essay in a Japanese book last night which wanted to stress the manner in which these bronze vessels were set aside for ritual use only. In Japan, there was not this same rigid separation of vessels for ritual use and for everyday use. In ancient China, it seemed, these vessels were for ritual-- and for ritual alone-- and in that way were truly sacred objects-- much the like heirloom jars from Borneo that I so covet.  

Over time, however, the role played by the bronzes changed and came to be associated less with religious observances, and instead associated more with aristocratic power and conspicuous consumption. This became especially so after the overthrow of the Shang and establishment of the Zhou dynasty. While the Zhou still used bronze vessels in elaborate rituals of great pageantry, which included poetry and music, their function changed from that of being the containers or instruments used to ritually communicate with gods, to becoming “monuments” in bronze commemorating great deeds or events in the lives of the person who had them commissioned.

Important political events, decisive battles, or honors bestowed by kings were described in sometimes very long inscriptions cast inside many of the Zhou vessels. As one scholar writes, such bronzes demand “reading not seeing.” The National Palace Museum in Taipei contains one ding tripod, the Mao Gong Ding, from the Western Zhou dynasty,  which has an inscription of over 500 characters. Truly an amazing example of the high technical level having been attained by ancient Chinese craftsmen, the characters cover the entire curved surface of the inside of the tripod, and describe the many honors bestowed by the king on Mao Gong, a statesman of the period. These honors included gifts of horses as well as many bronze and jade vessels. The ding was cast to commemorate the event for all eternity (Use the magnifier here to see just how phenomenal the calligraphic carving is).

In trying here to explain the meaning of the "five dings" in this quote 

丈夫生不五鼎食、死即五鼎烹耳」
出典：「史記－主父偃伝」

which I translate as

"If I can't have it all, then boil me in one of the 5 dings."

(If I cannot partake in all five delicacies of the five dings, then I choose the worst punishment of the realm-- boil me in a ding)

Epicurus mentioned that the state stipulated the number of bronze vessels that one could use by rank. This is from the wikipedia article, for example:

The ritual books of old China minutely describe who was allowed to use what kinds of sacrificial vessels and how much. The king of Zhou was favoured to use 9 dings and 8 gui vessels, a duke was allowed to use 7 dings and 6 guis, a baron could use 5 dings and 3 guis, a nobleman was allowed to use 3 dings and 2 guis.

This was also similar to jade. I am pretty sure that during Confucius' time, aristocrats wore jade pendants around their neck whose number was also prescribed by rank. When they walked, one could hear the bell-like tinkling sound of the jade pieces clinking against each other so that those of higher rank (who had on a greater number of pendants) could be heard louder than those of a lower rank (with less jade).

This melodious sound, Confucius (I think?) called the "sound" of a virtuous man and according to the Japanese kojien, the etymology of the kanji, 玲玲 refers to this beautiful sound of jade (cf. 玲瓏). If Adonis had been a girl, I wanted to name "her" 玲香 ("the fragrance of the beautiful-- and virtuous-- sound of jade tinkling"-- isn't it nice how much information 2 kanji can squeeze in?)

So, to answer Epicurus' question: obviously I am deeply attracted to this "fragrance" of history and antiquarianism which surrounds bronzes; I also marvel at the tremendous technical (problem-solving) skills involved. The ancient bronzes were made in such a surprisingly large variety (given the times) of shapes, most which I find to be extraordinarily pleasing. Maybe that is what I love about them the most-- their shapes (which have greatly influenced ceramics, of course).

Finally, whenever I see an ancient Chinese bronze vessel, my mind inevitably turns to one of two people. The first, my beloved, spent a lifetime cataloging the ancient bronzes in his care. Even as his empire teetered dangerously on the edge of destruction, he kept steadfast in his research and cataloging, believing indeed that if he could just get the bronzes accurately described, then everything could well take care of itself. There are, I'm sure you will agree, worse ways to lose an empire.

The second person, I've also written about in these pages.

Lady Li.

One of my all-time favorite art history books by my hero, Michel Beurdeley, The Chinese Collector through the Centuries devotes an entire chapter to Lady Li-- indeed she probably deserves an entire book.

Quite famous during the Song dynasty, Lady Li and her scholar-official husband had built up one of the finest collection of ancient bronzes-- not to mention books (unbelievable volumes of books) in Chinese history. She and her husband were known during Song times for their scholarship and passionate love poems (many to each other). They were like movie stars. That is until those damned Jurchens stormed the walls of Kaifeng and everyone had to run for their lives.

Leave behind the collection?

She screamed, Never! And so it went.

Here is her last poem

"The wind dies down, the scent of flowers fills the dusty air
The flowers are fading.
When evening comes I am too tired to dress
But I still have my pieces. My beloved is gone, all is finished.
I cannot speak without weeping." 

Even as the outside world around them teetered and indeed they lost everything-- neither faltered in their heart's occupation. Indeed, that inner world seemed to hold the greater significance.

Inside a bronze ding-- again.  

**

More bronze bells here and also Inside a Bronze ding Part 1 and Part 2

Lothar Ledderose describes the way these tripods were manufactured in his book Ten Thousand Things. Made in sets, they were mass-produced through division of labor and QA practices that perhaps are not all that different from goes on in a Chinese factory today.I would imagine that this was pretty different that what happened in ancient Greece-- although maybe not. Conrad, by the way, recommends Calasso's The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony

Photo at top by Wang Wusheng

**

For Switzerland and Hongkong:

(On Translation)

From Kyoto Journal 2002 interview with Red Pine (available here, it is highly recommended reading)

“I tried to do things that I saw happening in Chinese — the Chinese language is a very telegraphic, terse language — time is almost irrelevant, their subject is also dispensed with. A line can be very ambiguous. So I started to play with that in English and still make sense.

“Words carry a lot on their surface, but a lot is under the surface that we don’t see when we see the word — a lot comes from contextual familiarity.

People identify words with context. I was intrigued by the nature of Chinese poetry and its brevity — there were these flashes of meaning.

“What I do now is more of a performance,” he says. “Before, I was usually sort of reading the lines like an actor, but now I perform the book — what I do now is closer to dance. The words have to follow along my physical feel for the rhythm, the feeling of what’s happening in the Chinese poem. I don’t see the Chinese as the origin anymore. The Chinese was what the authors used to write down what they were feeling.

“I’ve gotten so used to the words I don’t have to think about them anymore. I’m more concerned with the spirit. I don’t think I have a philosophy of translation, but you have to be very open.