Precious pots raised from the deep

There are two Vietnamese blue and white pots in our house, a bowl and a plate, decorated respectively with fantastical fishes and dragons. We purchased them from a street vendor on an unforgettable holiday and we’ve treasured them ever since.

Click here to see a slideshow of the Ca Mau porcelain

Brand new “antiques” they might be, but no matter. Ironically enough, in the same street was a tailor who made the Business Manager (Mrs P) a silk dress. While she was being measured up and fitted out, I was taken to a backroom to see the owner’s collection of real Vietnamese antiques.

The tailor’s wife explained that the pottery had been brought to the shop by fishermen who

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Chinese Tang figures - antiquities with a collectable afterlife

by Christopher Proudlove©
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Collectors of ancient Chinese artefacts owe everything to the death rituals of society during the period. Like the Egyptians, the Chinese held strong beliefs about the afterlife. The wealthy and privileged members of Tang society, a Golden Age which lasted from 618-907 AD, took with them into their tombs all the luxuries money could buy.

Preparations for burial, which began well in advance of death, included the purchase of hundreds of pottery ming qi, or "articles of the spirit," such as figures of servants, musicians, attendants, domestic and foreign animals, guardian spirits and vessels from everyday life. Surviving tomb furnishings are important historic social and cultural documents of domestic life during the Tang period and the treasures have been unearthed in huge quantities since 19th century archaeologists began uncovering the past.

Twenty years ago prancing Tang pottery horses sold for tens of thousands of pounds. They were rare, remarkable collectors’ items that always attracted attention. Then came the looters and the smugglers. Until recently, when Tang horses came up for sale, prices started in the mid hundreds. So why did values fall so dramatically in this fascinating area of the antiques market?

UK dealer Lynne Elliott of Millennia Antiquities, whose business is based in Lancashire, put me straight. “Ten years ago tomb figures were flooding out of China via Hong Kong and prices fell to a point where they reached levels in line with market demand,” she said. “The widespread availability made Tang and other pottery figures affordable and increasingly popular with ordinary collectors, but since the Chinese government clamp-down on illegal exports, prices are rising again.”

The Tang Empire stretched from the Caspian Sea to the Pacific, from Manchuria and Korea in the north into Vietnam in the south. Tang China was cosmopolitan and tolerant, welcoming new ideas and other religions. Literature, painting and the ceramic arts flourished.

Chang’an, China’s capital, was one of the busiest and most cosmopolitan cities in the world. Situated at the eastern end of the legendary Silk Route, the city boasted two million inhabitants including an estimated 200,000 foreign residents. Indians, Persians, Turks, Arabs and Jews were there to trade in a wide range of exotic merchandise making its way from east to west. Different races and religions provided a heady cultural mix that was reflected in the artefacts of the city’s craftsmen.

Merchants, servants, entertainers, courtiers, monks, dwarfs and their animals were popular subjects for the artisan potters. The strange features of these foreigners, with their large noses and hairy faces, proved striking to the Chinese, and were a gift to the craftsmen.

Relatively low-fired and light bodied, Tang pottery is typically composed of earthenware, a porous and permeable common clay. Ranging in colour from almost white to buff, red, or brown, depending on the mineral content, the figures were produced in three basic ways: moulded; hand-crafted with individually made parts combined or thrown on the potter’s wheel. The earthenware was fired in kilns at a temperature between 600 and 1100 degrees Celsius.

The hallmark of Tang tomb wares is the sancai, or three-colour, lead-silicate glazes. These were produced by melting lead with clay and then finely grinding the resulting glassy material before mixing it with water for application to the already fired earthenware.

Using a transparent glaze as a base, iron oxide was added to produce tones ranging from straw to amber to dark brown, copper oxide was added to impart rich greens or cobalt oxide was added for dark, vibrant blues.

Potters faced an early death

There is usually an unglazed area above the bases of figures, because the potters were not able to control the flow of the lead glazes during firings. During the seventh century, many figures were fired with a clear glaze or left unglazed with features painted on them. This was because potters faced an early death from high levels of lead poisoning in the glaze mixes.

A safer method evolved some centuries later and glazed figures enjoyed a revival in the Ming period. Today, collectors tend to prefer either glazed or unglazed figures, although good, glazed examples are usually more expensive, costing several thousands of pounds.

Of all the pottery animals, horses are particularly evocative of Tang society. For good reason, horses were symbols of prestigious status and a measure of wealth and power in Tang China. Pottery horses were not modelled on the native Chinese Przewalski pony, a small and stocky animal not suited for the demands of the mounted cavalry who were facing the skilled horsemen of the Steppe, but on thoroughbred horses.

It was in the search for such horses to the west of China, as well as for the lands of the immortals, that the Silk Route was opened. The Chinese bartered thousands of bolts of silk for such coveted thoroughbreds.

Horses were also used for sport. Polo was introduced to China from Persia in the early 7th century and became a popular pastime enjoyed by both men and women. The emperor kept 40,000 horses in his stables, both for games and for war.

Pottery models of the horses are most commonly found in two poses: prancing with one leg raised, or standing four-square with head slightly turned to one side. Horses with warrior riders or occasionally entertainers were also made, particularly to protect the entombed from evil spirits.

Less expensive was an unmounted horse with a groom or guardian figure. They come in a variety of sizes, unglazed or glazed and sometimes with painted decoration.

The main market for tomb figures is in the West, particularly America, and leading dealers and auctioneers hold sales and exhibitions of rare and sought after pieces. Tomb figures also now appear at antiques fairs and markets and are still to be had at affordable prices. Small, unglazed items can be had for under £100, although finer examples will be much more. Fine quality pieces should prove to be good investments, particularly when the market begins to dry up, as it must in the long term.

Tomb figures are rarely in pristine condition. Their age and fragile nature means that almost all works have suffered some damage in the past. Value is not affected entirely by condition and modest restoration, so long as it was carried out by a professional, should not significantly affect the price of a figure. Age and authenticity is more of a concern.

Although tomb figures came out of China and were once imported quite legally into Britain, the export trade is now strictly forbidden, and the Chinese authorities have cracked down hard on smugglers. It is a capital offence for Chinese people to trade in tomb figures and a corporal offence for Westerners caught in Chinese territory.

Historically, however, sufficient numbers have been in circulation in the West for long enough to ensure they have a well-documented history. Most dealers will buy only from such collections that are known to have been in the West for a generation.

Lynne Elliott said: “Collectors should buy from reputable dealers at vetted fairs and get to know the specialists.” She has been trading for more than 10 years and is highly selective in her choice of stock. “Experience in these matters is most important. With replicas being sold around the world in tourist shops, gone are the days when the general antique dealer could be sure of the authenticity of any old piece of Chinese pottery.”

A thermo luminescence test will determine the age of a tomb figure and dealers who sell expensive pieces will usually provide a test certificate. Oxford Authentication Ltd is one company which carries out such tests, extracting a small plug-like sample from the object which is laboratory-tested. The tests cost upwards of £200 per item.

Pictures show, top: A Chinese Tang period Sancai (or three glazes) glazed pottery horse with official

Below, left to right: A painted pottery Tang period figure of a female attendant. Complete with its own Oxford Authentication Certificate, it is priced at £3,450

A group of Chinese Ming period glazed pottery attendant figures

A Chinese Tang period group of painted pottery figures as favoured by the rich to join them in their tombs and the afterlife

Discuss collecting Tang and other Chinese antiquities

Antique Dogs of Fo - a legend for you to collect

by Christopher Proudlove©
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So, welcome to the Year of the Dog and if, like us, you marvel at the celebrations for the Chinese New Year, you'll know the highlight of the colourful spectacle. Performed as a prayer for a good harvest and household safety for the year, a troupe of dancers parade the huge mask of a mythical beast's head and its long body through the streets leaping and prancing to bring the fearsome, writhing creature to life.

But is it a lion, or a dog, or neither? I'll leave that for someone more knowledgeable than me.

The origin of the Chinese lion-dog is shrouded in antiquity and be traced back to the Han Dynasty which lasted 400 years from 206 BC to AD 220. Although not native to China, the lion became a Chinese emblem of valour, courage, energy and wisdom, while in Chinese mythology it was believed that tian gou xing, the "heavenly dog star", devoured the moon at the time of an eclipse.

In Buddhist religion the lion is sacred and was sometimes offered as a sacrifice. The Buddha Shakyamuni, who lived about 2,500 years ago in India, is referred to as Lion of the Shakya and is depicted seated on a lion throne.

The Chinese word for Buddha is Fo and when Buddhist stories of the religious significance of lions reached China, where the animal was unknown, devotional statues of it were modelled after the country's native dogs. Thus they became known as "Dogs of Fo" and were placed either side of the entrance to temples as protectors of sacred Buddhist temples.

The ferocious mythical creatures, carved in bronze or stone, were quickly introduced into Chinese art to symbolise courage, strength and defence of the law. Subsequently, they were quickly adopted as guardians of tombs, government buildings, businesses and homes to ward off evil spirits and exclude demons.

Based on lunar rather than solar cycles, the Chinese calendar is the world's oldest, having measured time for more than 4,500 years. The Chinese New Year festival began last Sunday with the new moon, and will end 15 days later, on the night of the full moon.

As their popularity grew, the dogs were sculpted in porcelain, cloisonné and precious metal as ornaments for the home, the finest often given as gifts to the emperor in the hope of receiving favour.

The dogs are always found in pairs, male and female, their distinctly different modelling making it easy to identify their gender.

The male, also known as the Celestial Dog and the Happiness Dog, was intended to stand on the right and is modelled with his right paw resting on a globe representing his feeling the pulse of the earth. The female is almost identical but is always modelled with her left paw playing with or resting on her small cub, newly hatched from an egg. This symbolises continuity of empire.

The male is said to guard the structure, while the female protects those living or working inside. Their mischievous, almost devilish faces hide a ruthless power.

One of several stories attached to Dogs of Fo concerns a famous alchemist and queller of demons by the name of Chodoryo. When one of his pupils was threatened by the servants of one such demon, who had been turned into tigers for the purpose, Chodoryo countered by creating a giant lion which, in the magic battle that ensued, attacked the tigers and made them turn tail.

Legend also has it that Dogs of Fo were not averse to throwing their cubs from a high rock into a deep abyss as a test of their powers of resistance. Those that were smashed were too weak, while those that climbed out were considered good stock.

Despite this cruel side to their nature, objects decorated with Dogs of Fo and their cubs are representative of happy family life. Interestingly, the creatures are also depicted in a tender playful mood, whereupon they resemble the Pekingese dog of today.

As China opened up and began trading with the West in the 19th century, Dogs of Fo were among the many decorative exports that were picked up by collectors in Europe. As a result, they were reproduced by manufacturers abroad, notably this country's porcelain factories, and they remain popular today.

Pictures show, top: A large pair of Dogs of Fo, made in about 1680 and crisply modelled in blanc-de-Chine, the name given by European collectors to the undecorated hard paste true porcelain made in China and much prized in the West. They are worth £60,000-80,000, although 19th century versions can be had for a fraction of the cost

Below: These silver Dogs of Fo were made in Portugal and decorated with hardstones – their orange eyes being particularly menacing. They’re worth £3,000-4,000

Rocks of ages - now coveted collectors' items

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by Christopher Proudlove©
Fate found me in New York the other week ... looking at rocks. No, I wasn’t on a geology field trip – although the boulders and outcrops in Central Park looked fascinating from the back of my taxicab – I was there to attend the International Asian Art Fair, among the grandest events of its kind in the world, a sort of an antiques shopping mall for the rich and very rich.

There was a high percentage of British dealers exhibiting at the fair, all of them showing works of art that someone like me could only ever dream about owning. But the rocks were different, surely?

They were among a display of dazzling oriental art on the stand of the London dealer Sydney L. Moss Ltd., and they had to be less expensive, didn’t they? After all, they are just lumps of stone.

Not a bit of it. These are so-called scholars’ rocks, known as ying-shih, and judging by the prices – you’d get little change out of £20,000-30, 000 for a good example – they are as highly prized today as they were centuries ago in ancient China.

Clearly the only way I’m going to own one is by digging one out of the ground and the likelihood of that happening is remote.

But we’ve all done it. Unearth a white quartz pebble while digging the garden (said to bring luck to the finder) or come across a strangely marked or weathered piece of stone on the beach and it’s hard to resist the temptation of taking home to place in a flower bed or on the mantelpiece.

And how many of us remember the “pet rock” fad imported from kooky California (where else)? The “hobby” started somewhat earlier.

The Chinese interest in collecting rocks for religious or aesthetic purposes can be traced back to the Han dynasty (206 B.C.-A.D. 220) when Chinese connoisseurs began using large stones to decorate their gardens and courtyards.

There are also references to the special qualities of garden rocks and individual stones in poems dating as far back as the Tang dynasty (618-907).

One of the best known early collectors was Mi Fu, one of the most distinguished scholars and practitioners of the refined arts of the late 11th century. On being given a job in the emperor’s government, he arrived to take up office and was greeted by his future colleagues.

However, ignoring the elaborate ceremony befitting his new status, Mi caught sight of a particularly wonderful specimen in the rock garden customarily set up in Chinese courtyards, turned his back on the assembled officials and bowing low before the rock exclaimed: “Elder Rock! My teacher!”.

The practice of erecting stones in private gardens may well have evolved out of the Imperial construction of “paradises” known as P’eng-lai, or the Eastern Isle of the Immortals, mystical mountainous places built during the Chin dynasty (265-420)so the immortals could live there.

Scholars’ rocks were more usually small, individual stones chosen for their more refined qualities. They vary from a few inches to four or five feet in height but the majority were small enough to be carried around by the literati and able to stand on a table or desk.

Scholars took these portable mountains into their studios and used them for meditation and contemplation. Some were converted into utilitarian objects such as brush rests, censors or seals - but most were viewed as artistic creations in their own right.

The rocks were particularly admired for their resemblance to the magical peaks and subterranean paradises or grotto-heavens believed to be inhabited by immortals.

Others were appreciated for their resemblance to animals, birds, human figures, or mythical creatures.

The most highly regarded were of dense limestone that ring like a bell when struck.

Especially prized were stones sculpted naturally by processes of erosion or shaped by nature even if they have been artfully enhanced by man.

Pitted, hollowed out, and perforated, such rocks, usually displayed standing upright were seen as embodiments of the dynamic transformational processes of nature.

Principal aesthetic criteria

By the Tang dynasty (618-907), four principal aesthetic criteria – thinness (shou), openness (tou), perforations (lou), and wrinkling (zhou) – had been identified for judging scholars’ rocks as well as the larger examples featured in gardens.

Although black stones are the most sought after, many different types and colours of rocks grew in popularity at various times in Chinese history. During the Ming and Qing periods (1368-1911) more colorful stones such as marble, malachite, turquoise, yellow quartz, soapstone and serpentine became most sought after.

I asked Sydney Moss about dating scholars’ rocks and he confessed it was impossible. Having been made by nature and largely without the intervention of mankind, they are as old as the mountains themselves.

However, the rocks are normally displayed on carved wooden stands, which are often works of art in their own right, depicting mythical, stylistic or symbolic images in great detail. These can be dated by their designs and give a reliable indication of when the rock would have been adopted as a collectors’ item.

Above all, the learned Chinese scholars admired the rocks for “surfaces that suggest great age, forceful profiles that evoke the grandeur of nature, overlapping layers or planes that impart depth, and hollows or perforations that create rhythmic, harmonious patterns.”

The potential of stone collecting is limitless. If you fancy doing a spot of armchair mountaineering, a scholars’ rock is sure to fire your imagination.

Putting it on the slate

Talking of natural stone, a tussle between a private collector and a couple of museum bidders saw The Welsh Singer, an evocative painting of the Penrhyn slate quarry by “forgotten” artist Wallasey-born Frances Macdonald, overturn its pre-sale estimate of around £4,000 to sell for £6,750.

Colwyn Bay auctioneer David Rogers Jones tells me that the collector and his wife turned up for the sale of the lot last Saturday, sat at the front of the room and bid strongly against competition from two other bidders and having bought it, they left. The owner, another private individual, watched at the back of the room and also left contented with the result. That’s what auctions are all about.

Pictures show, top:
A good-sized ying-shih of darkish brown-grey stone, stretched across two widely-spaced feet, with crags and outcrops poking in various directions. The powerfully pockmarked and weathered material bears strongly horizontal striations, while the scooping and hollowing action of water has resulted in asymmetrical caves and channels, cutting diagonally across the lines of the horizontal. One or two large inclusions of paler cream-grey veining are exposed across a broad area of their surface, both to the front and back. Height: 17 7/8 inches. The old wood stand raises the rock high up on a wave or cloud base on long spindly legs, which terminate at the foot in high relief ju-i fungus heads of very high quality carving. Price: £20,000

Below, left to right:
A very large ying-shih with pale horizontal “marble” veining inclusions, robustly rising from a jagged base to a heavy and dramatic bulky overhang, with great scoops eroded away and small apertures associated with the crevices which occur all over the rock; top and bottom, front and back. Height: 34 3/4 inches. Modern Japanese wood stand. Price: £19,500

A large, paler grey ying-shih, with pronounced diagonal striations which cut deep into the obverse surface of the rock, creating dramatic, jagged ridges and fissures, several of which have developed holes of various shapes and sizes. The largest hole is to the centre of the rock’s front, at its base. The surface of the stone is pleasingly dimpled, with a hard dry feel, within its pronounced striations. On the reverse of the rock is engraved in a spindly seal script the legend T’ien-lai ko chen-shang; “Treasured and appreciated by the T’ien-lai pavilion”. This was the hall name of Hsiang Yiian-pien (1525-1590), the best and most famous of all Ming dynasty collectors. Height: 29 1/8 inches. Width: 17 13/16 inches. Price: 28,000

A tall ying-shih rising from a narrow foot through a vertically and diagonally sliced and scored “belly” area to a backward-leaning head featuring two jagged, narrow outcrops. Between them is a long, thin hole, extending almost to the very top of the rock. Height: 26 7/16 inches. Old wood stand. Price: £8,000
(Photos: Sydney L Moss)