| Deconstructing The Ming Vase… Hopefully not |
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| Culture | |
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At the beginning of the year a man visiting The Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge tripped on his shoelace, fell down a staircase and smashed to smithereens a trio of Qing dynasty porcelain vases, which had been resting on the windowsill since 1948. After destroying the 300-year-old vases, which were valued at £100,000, the man was found simply pointing at his shoelace, and saying: “There it is... that’s the culprit.” Following this incredulous incident the man then received a letter from the museum’s director, kindly asking him to “…not visit the museum again in the near future.” And so, it was with great trepidation (and a close-fitting pair of velcro shoes) that I stumbled into The Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art in Gordon Square, London, hoping to catch a glimpse of the items on display at The Ming Vase: Deconstructing an Icon exhibition, before the ‘Cambridge Crasher’ came to town. Housed on two floors in the cultural confines of the School of Oriental and African Studies, this collection of approximately 1,700 ceramics, dating mainly from the Song (960-1279) to the Qing (1644-1911) dynasty, promised to be good. And knowing that ceramic production in China is thought to date back as far as 9,000 years ago, I was expecting to be overwhelmed by the collection. I was not though. The exhibits were, of course, impressive – alluring and strangely serene, but they were enclosed in glass cabinets in a way that reminded me of Shanghainese citizens on the ditie (subway) during rush hour at People’s Square.  After taking in hundreds of pallid and indistinct bowls, jars, vases saucers, dishes, and cups on the first floor, my eyes began to feel as glazed over as many of the items on display. At times it felt like a virtual library. I was, however, struck by the strong sense of historical preservation – one vase in the shape of two carp was produced during the Tang dynasty (9th century). I was also pleased to learn about the materials, processes and technologies involved in ceramic production, as well as about its rich historical origins. True porcelain was invented and developed in factories in southern China at Jingdezhen, in Jiangxi province, during the Song dynasty. This early porcelain, known as qingbai (green white) ware, due to its characteristically watery-green glaze, was made for both the export and domestic markets, in factories which would later become the home of imperial porcelain production during the Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties.So, with a bit of history behind me and a lot of incertitude ahead of me I staggered upstairs to the second floor which, as I soon found out, was home to the more elaborate and technically advanced ceramics of the Ming and Qing dynasties. The items displayed there were of much more verve and vibrancy, contrast and colour - opaque rose, deep purple, lime green and iron red pieces illuminated the shelves. There too were the familiar blue and white ceramics of the fourteenth century, typified by their decorative motifs and enigmatic styles. A four-clawed dragon chasing a pearl through clouds decorated one such vase. Interestingly enough this style of decoration was not at all appreciated by the Chinese during its conception. It was rather begrudgingly that the Chinese, under domination of the Mongols during the Yuan dynasty, acculturated the style, having been ‘encouraged’ to take advantage of existing trade relationships with the Near and Middle East, thus producing blue and white to appeal to Islamic tastes. Visually bombarded by vase after vase, bowl after bowl, I decided to focus my attention on the more curious, quaint and unusual of ornaments - the snuff jar, the lychee-shaped perfume holder, the brush rest, and the bird seed holder. And surely the most obvious symbol of imperial indulgence - the wrist rest from the late Qing dynasty. Each item was incised with intricate decoration and labelled with meticulous detail. An inscription on a ‘seal surmounted by a goat’ read: “Use salt sparingly and food will keep its natural flavour.” How wonderfully topical. Perhaps Jamie Oliver has some Chinese blood? And maybe it was one of his ancestors who had written the labels that read: “Probably Qianlong period” or “Probably Wanli period”. Yeah, probably… Your guess is as good as mine. Joking aside, the second floor galleries were far more impressive than those on the first. They were eye-catching and far more demonstrative of skilled craftsmanship. But, as on the first floor, the glass cabinets were too crowded and the setting too unbecoming to make me think that the items contained therein were of any importance, or indeed of any value. Certainly not worthy of the clumsy Cantabrigian, who had successfully assumed the role of the proverbial ‘bull in a China shop’ just weeks before. They were, of course, extremely valuable and the collection is truly astonishing – avidly researched and painstakingly documented. Its founder, Sir Percival David, had been a student of Chinese art and archaeology, and travelled extensively through China in the 1920s and 1930s, collecting and recording countless Chinese ceramics, many of which had been in the Imperial Collection. Much of his research was published and his efforts had and continue to greatly enhance the profile and knowledge of Chinese arts in the West. It was for this reason that I couldn’t help feel that the somniferous surroundings of these badly-lit rooms were far from fitting for a collection of such significant connoisseurship. In short, this dedicated documentation of Chinese art deserved more, much more. Still, better than housing them at The Fitzwilliam Museum, I suppose. The Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art, The University of London 53 Gordon Square, London WC1H 0PD Monday – Friday, 10.30 – 17.30, until 22 December Free More information at: www.pdfmuseum.org.uk |
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