Transformative Jars: Asian Ceramic Vessels as Transcultural Enclosures 9781350277434, 9781350277465, 9781350277441

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
List of Illustrations
Contributors
Acknowledgments
Transformative Jars: An Introduction Anna Grasskamp and Anne Gerritsen
Part 1 Transformative Matters: Ceramic Vessels, Chemistry, and Socio-Economic Change
1 Dreams of Transformation: A Fourteenth-Century Flask from Cizhou Anne Gerritsen
2 Jars that Cheered: Alcohol and Stoneware Containers in Java before 1500 CE Jiří Jákl
Part 2 Transformative Spaces: Ceramic Vessels and Asian Locations
3 Siamese Jars and their Significance in Southeast Asian Trade from the Fourteenth to the Eighteenth Century Atthasit Sukkham
4 Weaving Networks: Production and Exchange of Ceramic Jars in South China and Vietnam from the Fourteenth to the Sixteenth Century Sharon Wai-yee Wong
Part 3 Transcultural Enclosures: Containers and their Contents in Global Context
5 For Oil, Date Syrup, and the Tomb of a Chinese Queen: The Reciprocal Trade in Chinese and West Asian Jars in the Late Tang/Early Abbasid Period Eva Ströber
6 Translocation and Transformation: The Lives of Chinese Fishbowls in the Early Modern Period Wen-Ting Wu
Part 4 Transformative Containers: Individual Jars and Modes of Agency
7 The Jars Have Ears: Circulation and Proliferation of Chinese PrototypeContainer Jars and their Offspring in Asia Louise Allison Cort
8 Dragons in Flux: A Changing Relationship between People and Jarsin the Kelabit Highlands, Borneo, from the Nineteenth to the Twenty-First Century Borbala Nyiri
9 Jar Interventions: Ceramic Containers as Disobedient Objects inContemporary Asian Art Sooyoung Leam and Anna Grasskamp
Concluding Thoughts on Transformative Jars: Asian Ceramic Vessels asTranscultural Enclosures Anne Gerritsen and Anna Grasskamp
Index

Citation preview

Transformative Jars

Material Culture of Art and Design Material Culture of Art and Design is devoted to scholarship that brings art history into dialogue with interdisciplinary material culture studies. The material components of an object—its medium and physicality—are key to understanding its cultural significance. Material culture has stretched the boundaries of art history and emphasized new points of contact with other disciplines, including anthropology, archaeology, consumer and mass culture studies, the literary movement called “Thing Theory,” and materialist philosophy. Material Culture of Art and Design seeks to publish studies that explore the relationship between art and material culture in all of its complexity. The series is a venue for scholars to explore specific object histories (or object biographies, as the term has developed), studies of medium and the procedures for making works of art, and investigations of art’s relationship to the broader material world that comprises society. It seeks to be the premiere venue for publishing scholarship about works of art as exemplifications of material culture. The series encompasses material culture in its broadest dimensions, including the decorative arts (furniture, ceramics, metalwork, textiles), everyday objects of all kinds (toys, machines, musical instruments), and studies of the familiar high arts of painting and sculpture. The series welcomes proposals for monographs, thematic studies, and edited collections. Series Editor: Michael Yonan, University of Missouri, USA Advisory Board: Wendy Bellion, University of Delaware, USA Claire Jones, University of Birmingham, UK Stephen McDowall, University of Edinburgh, UK Amanda Phillips, University of Virginia, USA John Potvin, Concordia University, Canada Olaya Sanfuentes, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, Chile Stacey Sloboda, University of Massachusetts Boston, USA Kristel Smentek, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, USA Robert Wellington, Australian National University, Australia

Volumes in the Series British Women and Cultural Practices of Empire, 1775–1930, Edited by Rosie Dias and Kate Smith Jewellery in the Age of Modernism, 1918–1940: Adornment and Beyond, Simon Bliss Childhood by Design: Toys and the Material Culture of Childhood, 1700–Present, Edited by Megan Brandow-Faller Material Literacy in Eighteenth-Century Britain: A Nation of Makers, Edited by Serena Dyer and Chloe Wigston Smith Sculpture and the Decorative in Britain and Europe, Seventeenth Century to Contemporary, Edited by Imogen Hart and Claire Jones Georges Rouault and Material Imagining, Jennifer Johnson The Versailles Effect: Objects, Lives and Afterlives of the Domain, Edited by Mark Ledbury and Robert Wellington Domestic Space in Britain, 1750–1840: Materiality, Sociability and Emotion, Freya Gowrley Domestic Space in France and Belgium: Art, Literature and Design, 1850–1920, Edited by Claire Moran Enlightened Animals in Eighteenth-Century Art: Sensation, Matter, and Knowledge, Sarah R. Cohen Lead in Modern and Contemporary Art, Edited by Sharon Hecker and Silvia Bottinelli Forthcoming Books The Material Landscapes of Scotland’s Jewellery Craft, 1780–1914, Sarah Laurenson Art and Material Culture in the Global Eighteenth Century, Edited by Wendy Bellion and Kristel Smentek

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Transformative Jars Asian Ceramic Vessels as Transcultural Enclosures Edited by Anna Grasskamp and Anne Gerritsen

BLOOMSBURY VISUAL ARTS Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK ­1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY VISUAL ARTS and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2023 Selection and editorial material © Anna Grasskamp and Anne Gerritsen, 2023 Individual chapters © their authors, 2023 Anna Grasskamp and Anne Gerritsen have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgments on p. xvii constitute an extension of this copyright page. Cover design: Tjaša Krivec Cover image: Nonomura Ninsei, Tea Leaf Jar. Edo period, 1670s. Japan, Kyoto Prefecture. Stoneware painted with overglaze enamels and sillver (Kyoto ware). H. 12 x Diam. 9½ in. (30.5 x 24.1cm). Asia Society, New York: Mr. and Mrs. John D. Rockefeller 3rd Collection, 1979.251. © Asia Society / Art Resource, NY. Photography by Synthescape, courtesy of Asia Society. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-3502-7743-4 ePDF: 978-1-3502-7744-1 eBook: 978-1-3502-7745-8 Series: Material Culture of Art and Design Typeset by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

­­Contents List of Illustrations ix Contributorsxiii Acknowledgmentsxvii Transformative Jars: An Introduction  Anna Grasskamp and Anne Gerritsen1 Part 1 Transformative Matters: Ceramic Vessels, Chemistry, and Socio-Economic Change 1 2

Dreams of Transformation: A Fourteenth-Century Flask from Cizhou  Anne Gerritsen13 Jars that Cheered: Alcohol and Stoneware Containers in Java before 1500 CE  Jiří Jákl37

Part 2  Transformative Spaces: Ceramic Vessels and Asian Locations 3 4

Siamese Jars and their Significance in Southeast Asian Trade from the Fourteenth to the Eighteenth Century  Atthasit Sukkham63 Weaving Networks: Production and Exchange of Ceramic Jars in South China and Vietnam from the Fourteenth to the Sixteenth Century  Sharon Wai-yee Wong94

Part 3 Transcultural Enclosures: Containers and their Contents in Global Context 5

6

For Oil, Date Syrup, and the Tomb of a Chinese Queen: The Reciprocal Trade in Chinese and West Asian Jars in the Late Tang/ Early Abbasid Period  Eva Ströber119 Translocation and Transformation: The Lives of Chinese Fishbowls in the Early Modern Period  Wen-Ting Wu147

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­­Conten

Part 4  Transformative Containers: Individual Jars and Modes of Agency 7 8

9

The Jars Have Ears: Circulation and Proliferation of Chinese Prototype Container Jars and their Offspring in Asia  Louise Allison Cort179 Dragons in Flux: A Changing Relationship between People and Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Borneo, from the Nineteenth to the TwentyFirst Century  Borbala Nyiri204 Jar Interventions: Ceramic Containers as Disobedient Objects in Contemporary Asian Art  Sooyoung Leam and Anna Grasskamp232

Concluding Thoughts on Transformative Jars: Asian Ceramic Vessels as Transcultural Enclosures  Anne Gerritsen and Anna Grasskamp258 Index263

­Illustrations Plates   1   2

  3   4   5   6   7   8   9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Map showing the locations of key shipwreck, kiln, and cultural sites throughout Southeast Asia Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Phnom Dangrek (Bang Kruat or Buriram), unglazed jars from Bang Pun, and Early Si Satchanalai Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai, Bang Rachan, and Martaban Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai and Bang Rachan Brown-glazed jars and kiln furniture from Shiwan, Guangdong, South China Jars and kiln furniture from Cizao Kiln, Fujian, South China, twelfth to fourteenth century Jars and kiln furniture from Truong Cuu, Binh Dinh Kiln, Central Vietnam, ca. fourteenth to fifteenth century Jars found at shipwrecks in Fujian, Guangdong, and Vietnam Storage jar, Iraq, eighth to ninth century Sherds made of stoneware, earthenware, and porcelain, tenth to fourteenth century Jar with inscription. China, eighth to ninth century Jar with inscription. Inscription: probably yag “oil” in Manichaean script. China, ninth to tenth century Fishbowl, porcelain, underglaze blue, Kangxi period, Qing Dynasty Fishbowl, porcelain with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty Fishbowl, copper ware with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty Container jar with four horizontal lugs, used in Japan for tea-leaf storage and named Chigusa

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­Illustration

17

Container jar with four horizontal lugs. Thailand, Maenam Noi kilns, fifteenth to seventeenth century 18 Tea-leaf storage jar, named Chigusa. China, Guangdong Province 19 Shigaraki ware official tea jar. Japan, Nagano kilns, Edo period, 1800–1868 20 Jar with design of mynah birds, by Nonomura Ninsei. Japan, Edo period, 1670s 21 Dragon jar burials at the now abandoned burial ground of Menatoh Rayeh Pa’ Bangar 22 Kelabit man with his family heirloom jar 23 SIB church service in Bario 24 Kelabit lady displaying her family heirlooms at her homestay 25 Lee Seung-taek, Tied White Porcelain, 1975, porcelain 26 Yeesookyung, Translated Vase–Nine Dragons in Wonderland, 2017 27 Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy 28 Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy 29 Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy 30 Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy 31 Anonymous artist, Snake Charmer, second half of nineteenth century 32 Tobacco jar, made from carved boxwood, with an ivory carved snake. Eighteenth century, Japan

Figures I.1 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 3.1

Unknown Fields (designers) in collaboration with the London Sculpture Workshop, Vessel—Rare Earthenware, 2015 Wine flask with two loop handles (recto). Cizhou-type stoneware Wine flask with two loop handles (verso). Cizhou-type stoneware Brown-and-white-glazed Cizhou-ware wine bottle Characters within floral frame on the shoulder of the flask. Detail of wine flask Characters written on a sign over the bridge. Detail of wine flask Two lines of a poem inscribed on the sides of the flask. Detail of wine flask Map showing the locations of key shipwreck, kiln, and cultural sites throughout Southeast Asia

2 14 15 23 25 26 28 64

­Illustration

3.2 Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Phnom Dangrek (Bang Kruat or Buriram), unglazed jars from Bang Pun, and Early Si Satchanalai 3.3 Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai, Bang Rachan, and Martaban 3.4 Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai and Bang Rachan 4.1 Kiln sites, ports and shipwreck sites mentioned in this text 4.2 Brown-glazed jars and kiln furniture from Shiwan, Guangdong, South China 4.3 Jars and kiln furniture from Cizao Kiln, Fujian, South China, twelfth to fourteenth century 4.4 Jars and kiln furniture from Truong Cuu, Binh Dinh Kiln, Central Vietnam, ca. fourteenth to fifteenth century 4.5 Jars found at shipwrecks in Fujian, Guangdong, and Vietnam 5.1 Storage jar, Iraq, eighth to ninth century 5.2 Sherds made of stoneware, earthenware, and porcelain, tenth to fourteenth century 5.3 Jar with inscription. China, eighth to ninth century 5.4 Jar with inscription. Inscription: probably yag “oil” in Manichaean script. China, ninth to tenth century 6.1 Fishbowl, porcelain, underglaze blue, Kangxi period, Qing Dynasty 6.2 Fishbowl, porcelain with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty 6.3 Fishbowl, copper ware with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty 7.1 Container jar with four horizontal lugs, used in Japan for tea-leaf storage and named Chigusa 7.2 Container jar with four horizontal lugs. Thailand, Maenam Noi kilns, fifteenth to seventeenth century 7.3 Tea-leaf storage jar, named Chigusa. China, Guangdong Province 7.4 Shigaraki ware official tea jar. Japan, Edo period, 1800–1868 7.5 Jar with design of mynah birds, by Nonomura Ninsei. Japan, Edo period, 1670s 8.1 Map showing the location of the Kelabit highlands with principal towns indicated 8.2 Dragon jar burials at the now abandoned burial ground of Menatoh Rayeh Pa’ Bangar

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72 75 77 96 99 101 103 105 120 129 131 132 150 157 161 180 187 190 192 194 206 209

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  8.3   8.4   8.5   9.1   9.2

­Illustration

Kelabit man with his family heirloom jar SIB church service in Bario Kelabit lady displaying her family heirlooms at her homestay Lee Seung-taek, Tied White Porcelain, 1975, porcelain Lee Seung-taek, gelatin silver print documentation of Hip, 1971, and Tied White Porcelain, 1975  9.3 Yeesookyung, Translated Vase–Nine Dragons in Wonderland, 2017   9.4 Ai Weiwei, Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, 1995   9.5A Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy   9.5B Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy   9.5C Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy   9.5D Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy   9.6 Anonymous artist, Snake Charmer, second half of nineteenth century 10.1 Tobacco jar, made from carved boxwood, with an ivory carved snake. Eighteenth century, Japan

211 215 218 236 238 243 247 249 249 249 249 251 259

­Contributors Louise Allison Cort is Curator Emerita for Ceramics at the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Her interests include historical and contemporary ceramics in Japan, Southeast Asia, and South Asia, Japanese baskets and textiles, and the Japanese arts of tea (chanoyu). She is the author of Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley (1979, reprinted 2000). She prepared (with George Ashley Williams IV and David P. Rehfuss) the online catalogue Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery (2008). Her study on Indian ritual earthenware, Temple Potters of Puri (with Purna Chandra Mishra), was published in 2012. With Andrew M. Watsky, she organized and co-edited Chigusa and the Art of Tea (2014). Her most recent book, with Alice and Halsey North, is Listening to Clay: Conversations with Contemporary Japanese Ceramic Artists (2022). In 2012 she received the thirty-third Koyama Fujio Memorial Prize for her research on historical and contemporary Japanese ceramics, and the Smithsonian Distinguished Scholar Award. Anne Gerritsen gained her PhD from Harvard University and is a member of the history department at the University of Warwick. Her first book, Ji’an Literati and the Local, was published in 2007, and her second book, on the local and global history of ceramics manufacturing in Jingdezhen, appeared in 2020. She has also co-edited several volumes on global material culture and the history of gift-giving with Giorgio Riello and Zoltan Biedermann, and on micro-spatial histories of labor with Christian de Vito. More recently, she has been working on the global circulation of medical commodities, specifically rhubarb, and is editing a book on the history of health and materiality with Bruton Cleetus. At Warwick, she co-directs the Global History and Culture Centre, and at the University of Leiden, she holds the Chair of Asian Art. Anna Grasskamp is a lecturer at the School of Art History at University of St Andrews. She is the author of Objects in Frames: Displaying Foreign Collectibles in Early Modern China and Europe (2019) and Art and Ocean Objects of Early Modern Eurasia: Shells, Bodies, and Materiality (2021). With Monica Juneja

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she edited EurAsian Matters: China, Europe, and the Transcultural Object, 1600–1800 (2018). Her articles on art and material culture in a global context have been published in Renaissance Studies, World Art, and RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics. Jiří Jákl is based at Heidelberg University, Germany. He holds an MA in Southeast Asian Studies from Leiden University (Old Javanese language and literature), and a PhD from the University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia, for his work on warfare in Java before 1500 CE. Jiří is interested in the social and religious history of Southeast Asia before 1700 CE, and in the reflections of material culture in classical Malay and Old Javanese literature. Jiří has published a number of articles on the society and culture of pre-Islamic Java, and his book Alcohol in Early Java: Its Social and Cultural Significance has just been published by Brill. Sooyoung Leam is an independent researcher and curator based in Seoul. Her recent collaborative, international curatorial projects include Actually, the Dead are not Dead (Seoul, Korea), Gwangju Biennale Foundation’s special exhibition Between the Seen and the Spoken (Gwangju, Korea), and Shanghai Project (Shanghai, China). She completed her PhD on “Lee Seung-taek: The Making and Unmaking of Sculpture in Contemporary Korean Art” at The Courtauld Institute of Art, University of London. Her research has been published in various journals, including Sculpture Journal and Journal of History of Modern Art and catalogues including Seung-taek Lee In Venice (Gallery Hyundai and Lévy Gorvy, 2017). Borbala Nyiri is an independent scholar, currently based in Norwich, UK. She holds an MA in archaeology from ELTE, Budapest, Hungary, and a PhD from the University of Leicester, UK. Her research focuses on object-biographies of the so-called Martaban/Martavaan or “dragon” jars in the Kelabit highlands, Sarawak, Borneo. Following her PhD studies, she held a research fellowship at the Sarawak Museum where she continued to work with the ceramics collections and investigate the more recent Sarawakian production of jars. Eva Ströber read Chinese Studies, East Asian art history, philosophy, and comparative religion in Germany and Taiwan and received a PhD on Chinese Buddhism. She has worked as a curator of East Asian porcelain at the Porcelain Collection, Dresden, and the Museum Princessehof, Leeuwarden. Her

­Contributor

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publications include Quellen. Das Wasser in der Kunst Ostasiens (Hamburg, 1992); “La Maladie der porcelain . . .” East Asian Porcelain from the Collection of Augustus the Strong (Leipzig, 2001); Ostasiatika. Sammlungskataloge des Herzog Anton Ulrich Museums Braunschweig (Braunschweig, 2002); 10 000 Times Happiness. Symbols on Chinese Porcelain (Stuttgart, 2011); and MING. Porcelain for a Globalised Trade (Stuttgart, 2013). She is currently working on transcultural objects including jars, carved hornbills from Borneo, and cats in Asian art. Atthasit Sukkham completed his MA in archaeology at Silpakorn University, Bangkok, and received a scholarship from the Southern Methodist University, New Mexico, to undertake archaeology field school during the summer of 2010. With the support of Thailand Research Funds, Universiti Sains Malaysia in Malaysia and Griffith University in Australia, Sukkham has worked on ancient rock arts, especially the relation between maritime trade and trans-peninsula routes for the development of a cultural and civilization database for the Greater Mekong Subregion and Malay Peninsula regions from 2009 to 2010. He is currently an assistant curator in Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum at Bangkok University, Pathum Thani. He has conducted research and educational promotion programs in the museum and published locally and in internationals journals on ceramics production, maritime archaeology, and museology. Sharon Wai-yee Wong is an assistant professor in the Department of Anthropology at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. She studied Southeast Asian archaeology and cultures and received her PhD in Southeast Asian Studies from the National University of Singapore. She was originally trained in archaeology and awarded her Master’s from the School of Archaeology and Museology at Peking University, China. She undertakes fieldwork on ancient and early modern ceramic production in Cambodia, Singapore, Thailand, and in Guangdong, Fujian, and Hong Kong. She is currently working on a Khmer Chinese ceramics research project in Angkor, Cambodia, and research on the social-historical impacts of ceramic object flows in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau during the ninth to twentieth centuries. Wen-Ting Wu is a postdoctoral researcher at the Graduate Institute of Art History, National Taiwan University. She received a PhD from the Institute of East Asian Art History at the University of Heidelberg with a thesis titled: “Driven by Power: Four Case Studies of the Possession and Appropriation of Chinese Porcelain in 18th-Century Europe and China.” She has worked for several

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­Contributor

national museums, including in Dresden, Gotha, Karlsruhe, and Frankfurt am Main. Her inventorying work and related research will be published by the above-mentioned museums next year. Her current research focuses on ceramics and their relation to other types of craft and art works in terms of materials and the technology of making and the development of forms and styles, with further studies aimed at mapping these interrelationships in global history.

A ­ cknowledgments This volume was developed from two events, the workshop Global Jars: Chinese Ceramic Containers as (Trans)Cultural Enclosures organized by Anne Gerritsen and Anna Grasskamp at Leiden University on April 11, 2017, and the international conference of the same name organized by Anne Gerritsen, Anna Grasskamp, and John Johnston, held at the Academy of Visual Arts (AVA), Hong Kong Baptist University (HKBU) on September 8–9, 2018. The workshop was made possible by financial support from the International Institute for Asian Studies. The conference was supported by an HKBU Research Grants Council conference grant and AVA. This publication received support from the AVA Quality Research Funding scheme. Both editors are grateful to the supporting institutions and the authors of chapters in this volume. Thanks are also due to discussants, panelists, and presenters at the workshop and conference who are not included in this collection of essays: Kyoungjin Bae, Ching May Bo, Irene Cieraad, John Johnston, Yong-Hwa Jung, Eileen Hau Ling Lam, Fan Lin, Pauline Lunsingh Scheurleer, Maria Kar-Wing Mok, William Southworth, Eline van den Berg, Alexandra van Dongen, Beatrice Wisniewski, and Gerhard Wolf. The work of Avery Lau on the manuscript’s layout in its initial stages and of Caroline Nicholas on its wording is much appreciated. Finally, thanks are due to the School of Art History at University of St Andrews, UK, who funded the printing of color illustrations and the cover image reproduction.

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Transformative Jars: An Introduction Anna Grasskamp and Anne Gerritsen

For centuries, Chinese goods have been in high demand globally. In the history of transcultural exchange, objects made out of Chinese clays that came to be called chinaware, china, or porcelain have played a particularly important role. Currently, a different kind of “rare earth” found in China is the focus of global demand: metallic elements known as rare earth elements crucial for the production of digital devices such as laptops and smartphones. In their piece, Vessel—Rare Earthenware (2015), the designers of Unknown Fields Division, founded by Liam Young and Kate Davies, in collaboration with the ceramicist Kevin Callaghan, bring together the Chinese clays that constitute porcelain, stoneware, and earthenware as well as the rare earth minerals crucial for contemporary technological advancement. The vessels, whose shapes remind us of classic ceramic containers, consist of stoneware and mine tailings mud, the latter extracted from a lake close to Batou, the largest city in China’s Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region, which is used as a dumpsite for radioactive mining waste. The artists’ decision to recycle toxic waste materials into the reduced shapes of jars rather than elaborate ceramic vases, bowls, plates, or cups, relates to the documentation that accompanies the work, in which we see how the designers followed global supply chains in reverse, tracing rare earths back to China, starting with images of containers on board ships.1 Bringing together different kinds of containers and Chinese (rare) earths in a series of vessels, the designers of Unknown Fields Division “think through craft”2 in a powerful example of transcultural artistic research into the material and metaphorical potentials of matter and shape. They provide us with an example of jars that are not only refilled with ever renewable contents like the jars in our kitchens, some of which might have originally served as marmalade cans or mustard containers, but themselves consist of reused materials.

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Transformative Jars

Figure I.1  Unknown Fields (designers) in collaboration with the London Sculpture Workshop, Vessel—Rare Earthenware, 2015, black stoneware clay and Inner Mongolian toxic tailings mud (including acids, heavy metals, carcinogens, and radioactive material), coated with a matt spray layer. Copyright: Rare Earthenware by Unknown Fields. Photo by Toby Smith/Unknown Fields.

Beyond the realm of contemporary art and design practices, few objects are as universal, ubiquitous, and multi-functional as a jar. The term jar refers to any manufactured shape with the capacity to enclose something and, hence, jars are part of human experience throughout time and space, regardless of whether they contain food or drink, matter or a void, life-giving medicine or the ashes of the deceased. As ubiquitous as such containers, storage vessels, urns, and other kinds of jars might be, and as much as they have been studied by archaeologists and anthropologists, so far they have remained almost invisible to the eye of the (art) historian. The present volume addresses this absence in scholarship and brings together a number of interdisciplinary contributions by scholars in the fields of ceramics studies, history, anthropology, archaeology, and art history that approach the topic of the jar from multiple perspectives. Contributors consider jars not only as (household) utensils and evidence of the

Transformative Jars: An Introduction

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daily practices of lost human civilizations but also as artifacts in their own right, as culturally and aesthetically defined crafted goods, and as objects charged with spiritual meanings and ritual significance. They understand jars as originating from single places but also as global or transcultural artifacts in which different cultures meet and merge. The volume examines jars as ceramic containers in and of themselves, while also materializing a boundary between inside and outside, content and environment, exterior worlds and interior enclosures; jars as things in the hands of makers, users, collectors, and, sometimes, as objects with human-like agency, animalistic or other kinds of spiritual powers. Collectively, the studies brought together in this book combine area-study expertise with art historical, archaeological, and anthropological methods to understand jars as transcultural containers that mediate between inside and outside, Asian and non-Asian, local and global, this-worldly and other-worldly realms. Special attention is given to the relationships between the filling, emptying, and refilling of jars with a variety of contents through time and throughout space, and the charging, eliminating, and recharging of these particular objects with different sets of meanings. The book argues that jars are objects and agents of transformation: starting with the making of ceramic matter, in itself an act of chemical transmutation, the vessels are constituents of change in the creation of meaning, economic value, and artistic design. Jars are, on the one hand, subjected to human agency—the hands of the craftsman and the discerning eye of the merchant—but are also actively involved in processes of chemical change, for example when filled with substances whose fermentation they enclose, or fragrant tea leaves whose smell and taste they influence. Against the backdrop of research on Yuan Dynasty distillation technologies, that have been argued to be indicative of “economic, commercial and technological processes but also socio-cultural changes,”3 the present volume shows that the material culture of drinking alcohol equally reflects on—and forms a pivotal component of—change in society. Furthermore, the vessels hold the potential to transform local ceramic industries as well as global systems of taste. The volume is therefore divided into four sections that highlight questions of materiality, aspects of chemical transformation and consumption, jars’ relationships to a variety of transcultural contexts, and notions of agency as related to ceramic containers. The chapters focus on jars from different parts of China, Japan, Korea, Thailand, Vietnam, Borneo, and Indonesia, but also touch upon ceramics from Myanmar, Cambodia, Laos, and Malaysia. Chinese ceramics that serve as prototypes for local production

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Transformative Jars

throughout East and Southeast Asia make appearances in most of the chapters, forming a thread at the heart of the volume that connects diverse case studies. The idea of approaching a single subject of study from multiple perspectives and identifying where the interstices between disciplines yield creative thought processes has proven its value over past decades. It continues to be significant, however, to make interdisciplinarity an explicit part of our approach, especially when the subject requires it. A jar is not one single thing; it has multiple meanings that can only be unlocked by exploring it from a variety of approaches. In this regard, Chigusa and the Art of Tea, the catalog to a ground-breaking exhibition held at the Smithsonian Institution that put a Chinese jar used during Japanese tea ceremonies center-stage, forms an important point of reference for the volume.4 In addition to showcasing the importance of individual jars, the exhibition at the Smithsonian and its catalog illustrate what the present volume defines as “transcultural enclosures”: a vessel that shifts between cultures being filled, emptied, and refilled with a variety of meanings and matter. Formed out of Chinese materials and probably originally filled with liquor, Chigusa came to contain Japanese tea leaves, her name was immortalized in a Japanese poem, and she eventually ended up in a museum display box in the United States (the jar is illustrated as Figure 7.3). The profound challenge to the nation state posed by global and transcultural studies encourages research in the field of material culture not to limit itself to a single geo-political context. Jars are both hypermobile objects that serve the transport of goods, and objects embedded deeply within cultural practices. Transcultural studies and global history thus form key approaches in the study of jars in line with recent work presented on the global lives of things, the entangled itineraries of materials, practices, and knowledge across Eurasia, and objects that materialize the merging of different cultural systems.5 Based on Chigusa and the Art of Tea as a benchmark in the field of transcultural jar studies and literature on jars in specific regions of Asia, for example Borneo,6 the present volume therefore covers a wide geographic and historical array of case studies and, unlike previous literature, does not limit itself to one geographic region, but brings together case studies from different parts of Asia. In contrast to recent studies on vases in a global context,7 Transformative Jars does not only address vessels such as Chigusa that are particularly meaningful within aesthetically defined systems of art and object appreciation but focuses on vessels that do the work of foodstuff containment and enclosing processes of chemical transformation such as fermentation. This approach to vessels is enabled by transformations in the field of the history of technology. Technology

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as we study it today includes human interventions in nature, including the making of ceramics that, in some cases, can also be considered as tools, for example, in the development of food preservation techniques. Investigating containers from a technological perspective means not only studying the technology of storage and jar-making, but also implies investigations into the transcultural meanings of those technologies. Accordingly, the book situates itself within growing literature in the field of Asian histories of science and technology on food cultures and the socio-cultural roles of craftsmanship and the cultivation of matter.8 It fruitfully transcends previous boundaries between the two fields of study through the jar, which is both an example of craftsmanship and a utensil serving as a container of foodstuffs. During the past decade the material connections between China and other areas throughout Asia have received increasing attention. The establishment of the Taipei National Palace Museum’s southern branch, whose exhibits feature inner-Asian relationships, and diverse exhibitions in Hong Kong and mainland China illustrate this development. Going beyond selection criteria such as beauty and artistic quality, displays at major Asian museums increasingly include objects of cultural significance such as jars. In addition, archaeological findings of ceramics in recently discovered sites and shipwrecks throughout Asian and Southeast Asian oceans, among them numerous different types of jars, have impacted scholarship on jars that is concerned with the spread of Chinese wares throughout Asia.9 While taking aspects of Chinese material culture into account, the volume moves beyond a mere recognition of regional connectivity related to the spread of Chinese goods through what has recently been called the maritime Silk Road. Aiming to be truly pan-Asian and also taking exchange with Europe and the Middle East into account, Transformative Jars highlights connectivity through material exchange, but primarily focuses on aspects of transformation such as the resistant and subversive aspects of matter in chemical processes and the socioeconomic and artistic changes based on the reception of Chinese material culture in the local environments of Borneo, Japan, China, Korea, Thailand, and Vietnam. In other words, many chapters in this volume acknowledge the Chineseness of some of the jars they discuss but use it as a starting point for further inquiries into the non-Chinese aspects of their local appropriation. As Chinese ceramics play an important role throughout the book, the volume starts with a close examination of a single Chinese vessel, an elaborately painted ceramic decanter made in northern China during the fourteenth century. As Anne Gerritsen shows, this flask helps us to understand the local production and

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consumption contexts of Cizhou kiln wares and overcome previous assumptions that these were objects made for the daily use of ordinary people. The chapter analyzes the painted vessel, which bears inscriptions and a complex iconography associated with aspirations for a good life, not only within the frameworks of artistic expression, but also as an object of consumption that encloses one of China’s socio-culturally most important beverages, jiu (酒). This drink also lies at the heart of Jiří Jákl’s contribution on Chinese and non-Chinese jars in Java before 1500. Jákl’s historical overview of the role of Chinese ceramic containers in parts of contemporary Indonesia highlights long-held misunderstandings in scholarship about their uses, and convincingly argues that it was the high alcohol content of Chinese jiu that made it more popular than local brews. Interpreting sources that range from a poem that equates the body of a jar with the belly of a pregnant woman to murals that show jars in use at royal feasts, Jákl gives a comprehensive overview of the ceramic containers’ diverse socio-cultural contexts. His main hypothesis is one related to chemical change: he argues that the importation of large quantities of Chinese jars containing jiu into Southeast Asia in the first half of the twelfth century was related to the Chinese discovery and development of the crude pasteurization of alcohol, which was responsible for the drink’s unique taste and alcohol concentration and distinguished it from all other products in the region. In both chapters, Chinese ceramic containers serve to process matter: the decanter does its work by letting the beverage breathe while the jars in Jákl’s contribution are agents and tools in the processes of pasteurization and fermentation that they enclose and facilitate. Accordingly, Cizhou wares as well as Chinese jiu jars in Java were more than mere containers: they were transformative through their active participation in chemical processes, they played major roles in the creation of patterns of consumption and sociocultural exchange, and they formed containers for the early modern signature drink, jiu. Like iconic examples of modern packaging, such as Coca-Cola and Absolut Vodka bottles, the early modern containers Jákl describes form an integral part of the identities of the beverages they contained, signaling that they were made in China and hence of quality and high alcohol content. Within China the process of branding and marketing drinks was more complex and demanding. As Gerritsen’s flask illustrates, the use of simple jars that marked a drink’s origin from a specific region within China was supplemented by far more complex objects whose painted surfaces associated alcohol consumption with promises of happiness and success not unlike contemporary advertising strategies. While the first two chapters of the book concentrate on aspects of chemical change related to jars and local production and consumption circumstances

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in northern China and Java, the next section, Transformative Spaces, discusses changes in ceramic craftsmanship brought about in different Southeast Asian localities by jars. Focusing on Thai ceramics production, Atthasit Sukkham gives a comprehensive overview of wares from three major kilns between 1400 and 1900. Based on archaeological evidence, the chapter showcases the Thai jars’ relationships to earlier Chinese wares, local production settings, and their importance in inner-Asian and Asian–European trade. Intended to help curators and scholars with the identification of jar types, which have often been confused with each other, Sukkham’s as well as Sharon Wong’s subsequent chapter on Vietnamese ceramic jar production shed light on little-studied aspects of the impact of Chinese wares, kiln types, and production methods in Southeast Asia. In contrast to the previous section, the focus of Transformative Spaces lies on the vessels themselves, their journeys and impacts, while the authors only briefly touch upon vessel–content relationships. The next section, Transcultural Enclosures, further expands the analysis of Chinese jars and their contents from an Asian to a global context. While Eva Ströber tackles “jar connections” between the Middle East and Tang Dynasty China (618–907), Wen-Ting Wu focuses on ceramic containers that were used for the cultivation of fish in China and recycled as planters for citrus trees in the palace gardens of early modern Europe. Both chapters showcase jars as constituents of global networks of exchange in which some aspects of the vessel–container meaning complex survive, while others are transformed or even obliterated. The contributions to the last section of the volume discuss jars in relation to issues of agency. Louise Allison Cort tackles the practical and aesthetic uses of lugs (or handles) on Chinese jars and Thai, Vietnamese, and Japanese ceramic wares made after Chinese models. Called ears in different Asian languages, the lugs form one among several features that relate ceramic bodies to human bodies. Offering an investigation of anthropomorphic equivalences applied to different types of early modern jars, Cort’s chapter focuses on jar identities, for example introducing ceramics that were given individual names in the framework of their roles in Japanese tea ceremonies. Similarly, Borbala Nyiri’s contribution looks at vessels in relation to agency. Her case studies are situated on the island of Borneo, where centuries-old beliefs that ceramics shelter spirits are confronted with modern Christian practices of exorcism. Nyiri offers an anthropological study of relationships between people and ceramics in the Kelabit Highlands, a comparatively remote and little-studied region of Borneo, from the perspective of the anthropology of Christianity within the narrow time frame of the

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nineteenth to twenty-first centuries. She argues that the practice of jar exorcism reinforces micro-historical practices of a local tribe while simultaneously connecting it to the global community of Christian believers in Borneo and elsewhere. Sooyoung Leam’s and Anna Grasskamp’s chapter remains within the here and now, but moves away from an anthropological focus to an art historical and theoretical investigation of uses, reuses, and deformations of jars and jar fragments in the globalized art worlds of contemporary Korea and China. The contribution argues that ceramic containers form “disobedient objects” and as such contribute a special kind of material agency to the processes of modern and contemporary art creation. The case studies that the volume presents cover a time frame from the seventh to the early twenty-first century, with most chapters focusing on the period between 1400 and 1800. They relate to periods of intense transcultural connectivity through material culture starting with the flourishing of overland trade in Tang Dynasty China, continuing throughout an era of intense maritime trade relationships in and outside Asia, and followed by the globalization of cultural relations during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Looking back, jars are not only an important example of a type of object attributed with special kinds of transformative powers or even agency, but also one of the first to be recycled on a large scale. Through creative reuses that include the integration of alcohol containers into Japanese tea ceremonies and the use of fishbowls as planters, Chinese ceramics were recycled and upcycled before modern notions of ecological sustainability took shape and contemporary models of circular economies emerged. In this sense, the jars presented in this book are not only transformers of global trade relationships, local ceramics industries, and cultural patterns of consumption, but also pioneers in the development of creative practices of reuse and sustainability.

Notes 1 2 3

http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/exhibitions/what-is-luxury/object-in-focus-rareearthenware-by-unknown-fields-division/ (accessed 11.11.2019). Glenn Adamson, Thinking through Craft (New York: Berg, 2007). Angela Schottenhammer, “Distillation and Distilleries in Mongol Yuan China,” Crossroads—Studies on the History of Exchange Relations in the East Asian World 14 (2016): 143–60, 16.

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6

7 8

9

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Louise Cort and Andrew Watsky, eds. Chigusa and the Art of Tea (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2014). Anne Gerritsen and Giorgio Riello, eds., The Global Lives of Things: The Material Culture of Connections in the Early Modern World (Basingstoke: Routledge, 2016); Pamela Smith, ed., Entangled Itineraries: Materials, Practices, and Knowledge across Eurasia (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019); Anna Grasskamp and Monica Juneja, eds., EurAsian Matters: China, Europe and the Transcultural Object, 1600–1800, Transcultural Research—Heidelberg Studies on Asia and Europe in a Global Context (Cham: Springer, 2018). E.g., Barbara Harrisson, Pusaka: Heirloom Jars of Borneo (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990); Raymond Corbey, Of Jars and Gongs: Two Keys to Ot Danum Dayak Cosmology (Leiden: C. Zwartenkot Art Books, 2016). Gerhard Wolff, Die Vase und der Schemel: Ding, Bild und eine Kunstgeschichte der Gefäße (Dortmund: Kettler, 2019). See for example, Francesca Bray, Rice: Global Networks and New Histories (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); Dagmar Schäfer, The Crafting of the 10,000 Things: Knowledge and Technology in 17th-Century China (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011). See for example, Hsieh Ming-liang, “The 16th and 17th Century Chinese Ceramics excavated at Hongwulan-Site, Yilan, Taiwan,” Taoci Shouji 2 (2012): 147–9, and the contributions to the 2017 issue of the Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient.

Bibliography Adamson, Glenn. Thinking through Craft. New York: Berg, 2007. Bray, Francesca. Rice: Global Networks and New Histories. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017). Corbey, Raymond. Of Jars and Gongs: Two Keys to Ot Danum Dayak Cosmology. Leiden: C. Zwartenkot Art Books, 2016. Cort, Louise, and Andrew Watsky, eds. Chigusa and the Art of Tea. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2014. Gerritsen, Anne, and Giorgio Riello, eds., The Global Lives of Things: The Material Culture of Connections in the Early Modern World. Basingstoke: Routledge, 2016. Grasskamp, Anna, and Monica Juneja, eds., EurAsian Matters: China, Europe and the Transcultural Object, 1600–1800, Transcultural Research—Heidelberg Studies on Asia and Europe in a Global Context. Cham: Springer, 2018. Harrisson, Barbara. Pusaka: Heirloom Jars of Borneo. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.

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Hsieh Ming-liang. “The 16th and 17th Century Chinese Ceramics excavated at Hongwulan-Site, Yilan, Taiwan,” Taoci Shouji 2 (2012): 147–9. Schäfer, Dagmar. The Crafting of the 10,000 Things: Knowledge and Technology in 17thCentury China. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011. ­Schottenhammer, Angela. “Distillation and Distilleries in Mongol Yuan China,” Crossroads—Studies on the History of Exchange Relations in the East Asian World 14 (2016): 143–60. Smith, Pamela, ed., Entangled Itineraries: Materials, Practices, and Knowledge across Eurasia. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019. Wolff, Gerhard. Die Vase und der Schemel: Ding, Bild und eine Kunstgeschichte der Gefäße. Dortmund: Kettler, 2019.

­Part One

T ­ ransformative Matters: Ceramic Vessels, Chemistry, and Socio-Economic Change

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1

Dreams of Transformation: A FourteenthCentury Flask from Cizhou Anne Gerritsen

This chapter focuses on a single object: a fourteenth-century flask, made in the style of the Cizhou kilns, and now preserved in the collection of the British Museum in London. It explores the ways in which this single object can be associated with transformations of various kinds: from the material transformations that occur when an object is shaped from clay and turned into a usable object to physical transformations that occur when one consumes the presumed alcoholic contents of such a vessel, and from economic transformations associated with the consumption of material goods to the transformations of the mind associated with the imagination of this-worldly and other-worldly possibilities. It is thus making less of a point about groups of objects or types of designs and illustrations than the chapters in the Transformative Spaces section of this book; such broad claims cannot be attributed to a single object. Rather, this chapter suggests possibilities for the concept of transformation as a tool for understanding the meaning of objects in material, social, and economic contexts. The chapter begins with a discussion of the object itself, then considers the history of ceramics made in the Cizhou region, now generally referred to as Cizhou-style ceramics, the associations between Cizhou-style ceramics and the consumption of alcohol, and between Cizhou-style ceramics and the imperial court, and finally focuses on the images and texts that adorn this individual object, arguing that each of these transformations serves as a key to understanding the object itself.

I am grateful for the very insightful comments by Anna Grasskamp, Roslyn L. Hammers, Kenneth Hammond, and Paul Smith on earlier versions of this paper.

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The British Museum Flask The object in Figure  1.1 is a heavily potted flask, 43 centimeters high, 37 centimeters wide, and 11.2 centimeters in diameter. It has a narrow neck with a so-called mushroom lip, sloped shoulders with two loops (or lugs), and a flat base. The two flat sides of the flask each feature a central plane, edged by a patterned band. The inner band has a white garland of geometrical shapes on a black base, while the outer band has a continuous leafy spray on a hatched

Figure 1.1  Wine flask with two loop handles (recto). Cizhou-type stoneware. Late Yuan to early Ming. 43 × 37 cm; 11.2 cm diam. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

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background. While the frames on both sides are very similar, the decorations in the central planes are different. One side (Figure 1.1) features a wispy willow with a man, a woman, and two cloven-hoofed creatures that might be sheep or goats. The branches of the tree, the postures of the figures, and the folds of their clothes all suggest fluidity and movement. A swerving line in the lower left corner and bunched lines underneath the figures suggest the rocks and sprigs of grass in a natural environment. On the other side of the flask, we see two figures, possibly the same ones, under a different kind of tree, moving toward a simple bridge (Figure 1.2).

Figure 1.2  Wine flask with two loop handles (verso). Cizhou-type stoneware. Late Yuan to early Ming. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

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The decorations on the side of the bridge echo the band around the edge of the flask. A wooden board is suspended between two poles on either side of the bridge, a bird sits on top of each pole, and cranes fly in the sky. The term flask, used to identify this shaped vessel, perhaps suggests its portability, but the size (and presumed weight) of the object make it unsuitable for carrying. As Jessica Harrison-Hall has stated: “the flask is effectively a luxury decanter. Far too large to be a portable container for travelers, it was made for a wine shop.”1 The catalog of the British Museum confirms the region of its production: the Cizhou region in northern China, and its date: between the late Yuan and the early Ming Dynasty. Both of these are noteworthy. The flask was made in the region of Cizhou, which forms part of the area known as the Central Plains (zhongyuan). In its narrowest definition, the Central Plains include the northern parts of what is now Henan Province, the southern parts of Beizhili (now Hebei Province), as well as parts of Shandong to the east and Shanxi to the west. As a region, especially during the fourteenth century, this area is perhaps noteworthy only for its absence in the historical records.2 Ceramics made in the Cizhou region, often referred to as Cizhou-type ceramics because of the wide geographical region within which objects of this type were made, are less well known than ceramics made in the famous southern kilns associated with the imperial court and imperial taste and thus fewer specimens remain. This is especially the case for such a sizable object. The time period during which this object was made is also significant: the late Yuan to early Ming period, in other words, the fourteenth century, was a period of considerable upheaval. Politically speaking, this was a time of disruption and disorder. The authority of the Yuan regime, established by Mongol rulers in 1279, started to weaken in the 1320s, especially with the outbreak of a war of succession in 1328. The reign of the last Mongol emperor, Toghon Temür (or Shundi), which had started in 1333, ended with the Red Turban Rebellion and the establishment of the Ming Dynasty in 1368 by the rebel leader Zhu Yuanzhang.3 The decades that followed the establishment of the new regime continued to be as tumultuous as those that preceded it.4 F. W. Mote describes this period as “rent by a disorder on a scale that had not been seen for centuries.”5 Perhaps unsurprisingly, Luo Guanzhong’s (ca. 1330–1400) novel, Romance of the Three Kingdoms (San guo 三國), which tells the story of the bloody wars between three competing kingdoms in the third century, was written during the fourteenth century.6 There were clear resonances between the wars, battles, feuds, and intrigues of the third century and the fourteenth. It is hard to imagine that within this period of political upheaval and social disorder some very fine ceramics were made, yet the object that forms the focus

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of this chapter emerged precisely from this period of upheaval. A close reading of this highly individual flask will allow us not only to reflect on the production and consumption of Cizhou-style ceramics during this turbulent time in the fourteenth century but also to consider the multiple ways in which this object suggests transformation: material transformation of basic clay into a finely decorated object, physical and social transformation through the consumption of wine, as well as the imagined transformation of the beholder who gazes through the patterned frame that surrounds the object and passes by way of the depicted bridge into a world of examination success.

Material Transformation: Ceramics Production in Cizhou To make sense of this single flask, with its detailed underglaze decorations, transparent glaze, inscriptions, and signs of usage, we first need to situate it in the wider context of ceramics manufacturing in Middle Period China. Ceramics made in Cizhou during the fourteenth century were high-fired stonewares rather than porcelains in the Western sense (i.e., fired above 1,300 degrees Celsius so that body and glaze fuse together to form a single substance) and they were made in a wide range of sizes and shapes, colors, and designs. The practice of combining underglaze decorations with a transparent glaze emerged relatively late in relation to the evolution of glazed ceramics. From the Han Dynasty until the late eighth or early ninth century, most Chinese ceramic wares were glazed, but no decorations were applied before the body was glazed.7 The iron-brown spots that appear on certain greenwares (celadons) are the only exception to this. Then, in the late Tang Dynasty (618–907), some pieces with painted ornamentation under the glaze began to appear in the Tongguan kilns near Changsha in Hunan Province and at the Qionglai kilns in Sichuan Province.8 The underglaze decorations we see on these Tang Dynasty wares are sketchily painted designs, sometimes described as blurred, in bird, flower, and splashed patterns.9 They were popular while these wares were produced, but this particular style and the technology of underglaze decoration disappeared when production in Sichuan and Hunan came to an end.10 To date no one has been able to identify an explicit link between the Tang Dynasty wares of the southern kilns of Changsha and Qionglai and the emergence of painted underglaze decorations in northern China. The practice of painting images and patterns on the stoneware bodies themselves, before glazing and firing, became widespread in the tenth century in a region encompassing today’s provinces of Shaanxi, Hebei, Henan, Shanxi, Shandong, and northern Anhui.11

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The history of this type of ceramics, broadly referred to as Cizhou wares, has its origins in the sixth century with the Eastern Wei (535–50) and Northern Qi (550–77) Dynasties, as archaeological finds have demonstrated. More generally, however, production in this region is assumed to have started during the Five Dynasties period, that is, in the tenth century.12 During the Song (960–1279), Jin (1115–1234), and Yuan (1271–1368) Dynasties, two main centers in presentday Hebei Province were manufacturing ceramics, each encompassing a cluster of separate kilns, at Pengcheng near the city of Handan and at Guantai in Cizhou, the county that gave the wares their name.13 As ongoing archaeological investigations show, however, in the Song Dynasty similar wares were produced far beyond the confines of Cizhou itself. Production stretched from southern Hebei Province to northern and central Henan Province, the Central Plains, and Shanxi and Shandong Provinces.14 It is difficult, therefore, to identify at exactly which location our flask (Figure 1.1) was manufactured. Most Cizhou wares, including our flask, have one thing in common: a creamor brown-colored base layer, sometimes referred to as a mask layer or slip. This layer was applied to the base to cover the color of the baked clay itself, which was often a rather unattractive gray color. This base layer then formed the background for further images and patterns applied in a variety of techniques, such as the use of an iron-based pigment to paint the patterns and images onto the cream-colored base layer, as was the case with our flask. Other techniques include the application of a colored glaze on top of this base layer, or the creation of a pattern by carving or incising into the layer of slip, revealing the contrasting color underneath the slip. Some vessels were covered entirely with a dark glaze into which flower patterns were carved, revealing the lighter-brown color of the body itself. The iron-based pigment was created by using a mineral (magnetite, or magnetic iron oxide) commonly found in the iron ore reserves of northern China. This mineral was mixed with a small quantity of clear slip or glaze and applied to the ceramic body with a thin brush. The styles of painting ranged widely from broad-stroke decorative patterns to small-scale, fine-brush, highly detailed narrative designs, and calligraphy. In principle, these styles were closely related to painting on paper and silk and covered a similarly wide range of subject matter, such as themes from nature, flowers and plants, human figures, and animals. Several Cizhou wares, including our flask, feature characters or inscriptions.15 Figure  1.1, then, fits squarely into the decorative practices that were common throughout the Cizhou region. The late Yuan to early Ming date of our flask means that it was manufactured during the latter part of the flourishing of Cizhou production. During the Ming

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Dynasty, the production of Cizhou wares gradually declined, but Ci county in southern Hebei was one of the remaining sites of significant production during the Ming.16 Recent archaeological finds have challenged the view of Ming decline; excavated Ming tombs demonstrate the circulation of Cizhou ceramics throughout the empire, including the southern provinces, and confirm not only their ongoing production, but their continued desirability throughout Ming China.17 Several prominent Ming tombs in the Nanjing area, for example, were found to contain Cizhou wares.18 We can assume, then, that the flask was produced at a time when the Cizhou kilns were firing regularly and producing goods for consumers who may well have been located anywhere in the empire or beyond. Production of Cizhou wares continues in the region on a small scale today, although the production of Cizhou wares after the end of the Ming seems to have catered mostly for local consumers, living within the immediate vicinity of the kilns.19 Examples of wares from this region can be found in all major museums with a Chinese ceramics collection. The Handan Museum in Hebei Province has perhaps the largest collection, but most other ceramics collections in China contain Cizhou wares. In Europe and the Americas, too, Cizhou pieces form part of important ceramics collections; the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, the Museum of East Asian Art in Bath, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco, and the Chicago Art Institute all have substantial collections of Cizhou ware. The Palace Museum in Beijing has been carrying out research on the Cizhou kilns in Hebei since the 1960s and has acquired an important collection.20 Cizhou wares were never included among the imperial collections of the Qing court, perhaps because of the relative coarseness of the clays and the simplicity of the painted decorations. The production context of our flask, then, is humble: made in the relatively unremarkable Central Plains from rough-grained gray-colored clay during a period of socio-political upheaval. Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that the reputation of Cizhou wares is not high among ceramics connoisseurs. Li and Kwan express a clear view on Cizhou ceramics in their standard reference book: Cizhou ceramics “cannot be said to be masterpieces, but they were true to life, the life of the lowest levels of society; they were simple and unadorned, genuine and true.”21 This narrative of some Cizhou wares somehow being closer or truer to the ordinary lives of the people (minjian shisu shenghuo) is a trope one comes across fairly frequently.22 One type of contemporary documentary record, however, makes this claim difficult to sustain, at least for the Ming

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Dynasty. The regulations specified in the Ming Dynasty Collected Statutes (Da Ming huidian) suggest that the imperial court made extensive use of ceramic wares from Cizhou.23 Of course, the imperial court is a very broad entity and encompasses far more than merely the emperor’s own spaces. It included, for example, all the dining halls (shanfang) in each of the palaces, the imperial wine offices, and flower gardens. All such spaces needed to be provisioned with ceramic wine jars (ci gang).24 The imperial court also included the various governmental offices where guests were received and entertained, including the Court of Imperial Entertainments (Guanglu si), which Hucker describes as being responsible for “catering for the imperial household, court officials, and imperial banquets honoring foreign envoys and other dignitaries.”25 Vessels, jars, jugs, and bottles were required in vast quantities to supply all the spaces of the imperial court where food and drink were stored and prepared for consumption. The imperial court officials procured such goods from kilns within easy reach of the imperial capital. For example, from the early decades of the Ming Dynasty onward, there were two kiln sites near Nanjing, Yizhen, and Guazhou that produced such items for the court. According to Da Ming huidian, rules stipulated the following: ­ he Ministry of Works in Nanjing each year sends an official to be stationed in T Yizhen, to manage the firing of 100,00 wine jars . . . When the [jars] have been made, they are transported to the capital by way of the grain transport ships, and sent straight to the Imperial Court of Entertainments, where they are taken into use.26

When the capital was moved away from Nanjing in the early fifteenth century, the Yizhen kilns located near Nanjing continued to supply 15,000 items a year to the Nanjing Imperial Entertainments Court, but the vast majority of wine vessels were fired at northern kiln sites in Henan and Zhending, where Ding wares were produced.27 During the Xuande reign period (1426–35), it was stipulated that the Imperial Court of Entertainments should distribute the annual order for vessels, jugs, and bottles, altogether 51,850, between the two counties of Jun and Ci, both of which form part of the provincial government of Henan.28 As a consequence of this stipulation, the kilns at Junzhou and Cizhou must have produced hundreds of thousands of jugs, bottles, and jars in the early fifteenth century, out of which tens of thousands were sent to the capital for catering purposes, to provision the many spaces for the consumption of food and drink within the imperial court. The wares manufactured at the Cizhou kilns, then, may well have been appreciated from the Song Dynasty onward for

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their simple and unadorned appearance, as Li and Kwan put it, but, at the same time, fifteenth-century Cizhou-type wine vessels were transformed into objects that featured in the daily lives of emperors and consorts and at official banquets.

Physical Transformation: The Consumption of Wine Da Ming huidian does not specify any details about the designs of the bottles and jars the Office of Entertainments ordered from Cizhou, but describes their specific shapes and sizes, and the quantities of each required. While we have established that some Cizhou wares formed part of the material culture of the imperial court, the same evidence neither confirms nor excludes the possibility of this specific flask being used in the imperial court context. The inscriptions on the flask itself point in a different direction, namely to the more commercial culture of the production and consumption of wine. Together with ceramic pillows, jars (guan) and bottles are among the most common Cizhou wares, and, as several scholars have pointed out,29 it seems very plausible that their manufacture was closely related to the production of alcoholic beverages (jiu) in this region.30 The term jiu is somewhat difficult to translate into English. In common parlance the Chinese term jiu can be used for all kinds of alcoholic beverages, including beer (pijiu) and wine from grapes (putaojiu).31 Jiu is often divided into two main categories: huangjiu and baijiu.32 Huangjiu, yellow liquor, is based on a fermentation process of rice or wheat, and normally has an alcohol content of between 10 and 20 percent.33 It is usually heated to pasteurize the drink, aged in vessels, and filtered before it is finally bottled. Baijiu, white liquor, on the other hand, refers to distilled liquors, usually at more than 30 percent alcohol. Wines of both kinds are believed to have been in use in prehistoric times, and records exist dating back to at least the mid-Shang Dynasty (1700–1027 BCE), as a Henan winery dated to the Shang Dynasty (and excavated in 1974) testifies.34 Excavations of the Han tombs at Mawangdui show that fermented beverages were stored in both lacquer and pottery jars.35 As the technology of ceramics manufacture improved, ceramic jars became the vessels of choice for use throughout the wine production and consumption processes. Evidence from Middle Period China demonstrates that the fermentation of wine was generally done in large pottery vessels (weng).36 Wine jars (guan) were less useful for the production or storage of wine but preferred for serving wine. This is because wide-mouthed vessels are not as suitable for fermentation processes as narrow-mouthed ones,

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as they are more difficult to close to prevent the evaporation of alcohol. The wide-mouthed jars made in Cizhou, as well as tall bottles (meiping), pear-shaped bottles (yuhuchun ping), and bottles with lugs (sixi ping), were most likely used for the sale and consumption of different kinds of wine. Several Cizhou vessels confirm the close connection between the culture of wine consumption and the manufacture of ceramic vessels in this region, aspects of which are visible in the image featured on the flask. Usually surrounded by a painted frame of some kind, the images of human figures on Cizhou-ware pots and ceramic pillows include children playing, and sometimes engaging with animals or flowers, or flying kites, reclining figures reading or slumbering, and men and women moving through landscapes, visiting shrines, or communicating with deities in nature. Some objects express auspicious wishes, as indicated by the surface painting of a man with a pine tree (symbolizing longevity) and a deer (lù for deer forming a homophone for lù, which means wealth and long life); some paintings on Cizhou wares visualize narrative scenes from stories or plays, while others depict the preparation or consumption of beverages.37 Cizhou wares also feature text of various kinds, such as the name of a drinking establishment, the type of beverage contained within the vessel, its manufacturer, the character for wine (jiu) and, in at least one case, an entire poem about wine.38 The British Museum collection has examples of several of these, such as a Jin Dynasty brown-and-white-glazed wine jar with four lugs with the characters “Ren he guan”, the Tavern of Benevolence and Peace, written under the glaze (Figure 1.3). This form—a tall bottle with a narrow base and mouth, four lugs around the mouth, decorated in this half white-half brown scheme— often features three-character combinations denoting the name of a hospitality establishment.39 Like Renheguan the names of such establishments suggest wishful thinking, such as the Tavern of the First Graduate (Zhuangyuanguan 狀元館).40 Further examples include Cizhou-ware flasks inscribed with the Tavern of Great Peace (Taipingguan 太平館), the Tavern of Shared Joy (Tongleguan 同樂觀), and the Tavern of the Eight Immortals (Baxianguan 八 仙館).41 All of the terms in the names of these establishments—graduating first, benevolence, peace, shared joy, the Eight Immortals—are suggestive; they invite the beholder to enter into their enclosed spaces and into the land of (day)dreams. Even if benevolence and peace as well as the attainment of examination success and immortality are difficult or impossible to achieve, entering a drinking establishment with an evocative name and sharing in that particular (temporary) dream certainly is not. Of course, consuming an alcoholic beverage associated with that establishment and its promising name

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Figure 1.3  Brown-and-white-glazed Cizhou-ware wine bottle. Jin Dynasty (1115–1234). Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

can only enhance those dreams. It is noteworthy, if not perfectly obvious, that we are dealing with a gendered dream. The space that is advertised, the drinking tavern, would have mainly appealed to men, and the dreams that are being invoked are also mainly gendered male: success in examinations of course excluded women, and the Confucian values that are referred to, such as great peace and shared joy, referred to texts that were studied by far more boys than girls. There is no explicit exclusivity here; women did travel, the Eight Immortals also included female immortals, and women did read and study the Classics. But the general association would be with the masculinity

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of the cultures of travel, alcohol, and examinations. The British Museum flask, then, is part of the culture of consumption of alcohol, the temporary physical transformation associated with that consumption, as well as the dreams of good fortune and success induced by that transformation.

­Dreams of Transformation: The Power of Consumption The rectangular shape of the flask and the double-layered edging that surrounds the images in the center on both sides of the object create emphatic picture frames. Many of the depictions of human figures and landscapes on Cizhou-style ceramics are surrounded by some sort of frame, setting the image apart from the flowered, leaved, or geometrically abstract patterns that fill the remaining spaces on the surface of the object. In the case of our flask, the two paintings are somewhat awkwardly placed within the frames, not quite in balance with the white spaces surrounding the brushstrokes. On one side (Figure 1.1), the two human figures and the two animals appear on a somewhat sloping plane that gravitates toward the lower right-hand corner of the frame; the figures seem to hover above the small tufts of grass that indicate the ground. The tree, too, seems somewhat off-balance; the wispy quality of its branches, windswept into contradictory directions, make the tree seem thin and fragile. The two deer, a frequent theme on Cizhou-style ceramics, are executed clumsily, with sloping backs and longer hindlegs, giving a stationary appearance rather than the sense of movement that a lifted hindleg would provide. The other side (Figure 1.2) also has this sense of imbalance in the composition, with a similar weighting toward the lower right-hand corner. Here, too, the two figures seem suspended above the ground and slightly sloped backward. All of this suggests, perhaps, not a world of solid reality, but the sketchy outlines of an imagined world known only from dreams and aspirations. The text on one of the shoulders of the flask (Figure 1.4) consists of three characters: 羊羔酒 (yang gao jiu). The characters, written in standard script, are framed with double lines, and that frame is itself surrounded by ornate decorations of flowers and leaves. Yanggao 羊羔 literally means goat kid, but in combination with the word for wine, jiu, Yanggao is usually left untranslated. Yanggao wine is flavored with mutton and, presumably, the inscription refers to the contents of the wine flask. It was already a popular drink in the Song Dynasty when the poet Su Shi (1037–1101) mentioned consuming goat wine (gao’er jiu 羔儿酒) in one of his poems (Third day of the second

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Figure 1.4  Characters within floral frame on the shoulder of the flask. Detail of wine flask with two loop handles. Cizhou-type stoneware. Late Yuan to early Ming. 43 × 37 cm; 11.2 cm diam. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

month—lighting a lantern to greet a guest 二月三日電燈會客). It became even more popular during the Ming and Qing Dynasties.42 Several sources provide details on how to produce such mutton-flavored wine, including the Yuan Dynasty Jujia biyong shilei quanji 居家必用事類全集, dated to 1301. The instructions explain that the mutton is first combined with rice to form a dry cake, which is then steeped in rice wine. After one night, peeled and cored nashi pears are added and the mixture is steeped and then sieved several times. Eventually, this meat and rice mixture is combined with a fermentation agent and an alcoholic beverage is produced.43 Whether or not the taste appeals to our

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sensibilities today, the process is highly specialized, as the detailed descriptions of how to make it suggest, and, presumably, the consumer of this very special kind of wine is sophisticated.44 On the other shoulder of the flask, we find the characters 白山賈家造 (Baishan Jia jia zao), or Made by the Jia family of White Mountain. Clearly, this is an expansion of the contents’ description, detailing exactly where the wine was made. Unfortunately, without further specifics, the terms used are not unusual enough to allow us to trace either the White Mountain or the Jia family. The shape of the object, with several flat surfaces, facilitated the creation of these two labels with a descriptive text that advertised its contents, without disrupting the images on the front and back of the flask.

Figure 1.5  Characters written on a sign over the bridge. Detail of wine flask with two loop handles (verso). Cizhou-type stoneware. Late Yuan to early Ming. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

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As we saw earlier, the main image on one side of the flask features a bridge, accompanied by the three-character inscription, 昇仙橋 (sheng xian qiao), which suggests the name of the bridge: Immortals’ Ascent Bridge (Figure  1.5). This bridge, located in Sichuan, north of Chengdu on the road to Chang’an, was made famous by the Han Dynasty poet Sima Xiangru (179–117 BCE), who wrote upon crossing the bridge that he would not cross it again unless it was in the horsedrawn carriage of the scholar-official. The bridge and its inscription became even more famous after it featured in a now-lost play (beizaju 北雜劇) by the famous playwright Guan Hanqing 關漢卿 (1240–1320).45 The play was entitled Shengxianqiao Xiangru tizhu 昇仙橋相如題柱 (Xiangru Inscribes a Verse on the Pillar of Shengxian Bridge) and featured the very same bridge depicted here but focused on the story of the two lovers Sima Xiangru and Zhuo Wenjun. Although Zhuo Wenjun was the daughter of a wealthy man, they were poor after their elopement and made a living by running a small tavern in Chengdu. The inscription on the flask captures all these elements simultaneously: the association with Sima Xiangru and his ambitions of examination success, the romantic story of Sima Xiangru and his lover, and the wine-establishment that provided for the couple until her wealthy father acknowledged their union. The symbolic meaning of the bridge landscape is easily accessible, with the bridge providing access to a dream-like world where examination success and rebirth in the land of immortals are brought within reach. The similarity between the frame-like quality of the edge of the bridge, with its geometrical spiral pattern, and the frame surrounding the image is striking, suggesting that both frame and bridge provide entry into another world, where dreams come true. The image on the other side is more difficult to decipher. The two human figures and two deer do not have any outstanding characteristics that suggest a specific narrative; too many poems feature a man and a woman in a landscape to point to the depiction of a specific poem in this case. The clothing of the couple, however, is noteworthy. The male figure on the left of the image is wearing a so-called scholar’s hat and a long gown folded over the chest with wide sleeves within which he clasps his wrists. The side flaps on the hat are generally associated with Ming officials, and although the gown is missing a formal embroidered label that would identify the man as an official, the crossed gown forms part of a scholar’s standard informal wear typical of this period. Just as the bridge offers access into a dream-like world, the couple and the auspicious deer suggest arrival in a dream-like world of desire and success. The final inscription appears twice on the object on the narrow side of the flask (Figure 1.6).

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Figure 1.6  Two lines of a poem inscribed on the sides of the flask. Detail of wine flask with two loop handles (verso). Cizhou-type stoneware. Late Yuan to early Ming. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

It comprises two lines of seven-character parallel verse. The characters on the side of the flask, written in a semi-cursive script, have been identified and translated as follows: 金鐙馬踏芳草地  Jin deng ma ta fang cao di 玉樓人醉杏花天  Yu lou ren zui xing hua tian A horse with golden stirrups treads in fragrant grasslands. A man in the jade pavilion is intoxicated in the apricot blossom skies.46

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The calligraphy is perhaps not of the highest quality, but there is some visual evidence of a practiced hand. There is some thickening and thinning of the brush strokes and angling of the brush, as we see in the character ren 人 that opens the first line, and some attempt at using the characters to fill the space creatively, as we see in the final di 地 at the end of the first line. There is also clear knowledge of the rules of cursive script, as we see in the penultimate character of the second line hua 花. Even if the hand that wrote these characters does not belong to a famous calligrapher, it had some training and experience in writing couplets in semi-cursive script.47 The lines form a famous couplet that seems to have circulated as such, rather than as two lines from a longer poem.48 One of the earliest appearances of the couplet is in the Unofficial Life Story of Li Shishi (Li Shishi waichuan 李師師 外傳).49 Li Shishi was a famous Northern Song courtesan about whom many stories circulated, including tales of her seduction of the Huizong emperor, who stealthily visited her under cover of darkness. A Yuan Dynasty version of the story has the Huizong emperor inscribing one of his paintings with these same lines and giving the painting to Li Shishi.50 In one way or another, then, these inscriptions on the flask all have associations with the consumption of wine and with romantic liaisons. But, unlike the more commercial context in which we were reading some of the other inscribed Cizhou wares, the inscriptions on this flask denote a more sophisticated market, with calligraphic experience and the ability to appreciate the prose and poetry of the scholarly elites. Broadly speaking, inscriptions on flasks describe relationships. The inscription on the vessel in Figure 1.3 identifies the establishment to which it belongs, hence it denotes a possessive relationship. The inscription in Phags-pa script on another wine bottle in the British Museum collection, “A good bottle of grape wine”, describes the object itself: the words specify the kind of bottle we are dealing with, and the characteristics the beverage possesses.51 In each case, we can read the inscription on the vessel’s body as descriptive of the vessel itself. But the inscriptions also facilitate a more active reading: an intervention in the relationship between the objects and their potential consumers. The inscriptions on both objects point to the possible existence of alternative beverages or establishments, and thus the existence of choice and preference. In other words, we are dealing with consumer choice and desire. These vessels are all part of a culture of consumption, where customers make choices about places to drink and beverages to consume. The inscribed vessels themselves also become active participants in that culture of consumption, as do the manufacturers who

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chose to have the names of products inscribed on the bodies of these objects: all of them are using the power of consumption to bring about some kind of transformation. More importantly, however, our flask invites the consumer to transform themself into a sophisticated wine-connoisseur who can achieve the dreams and aspirations that are key to an elite lifestyle: social status, examination success, and romantic liaisons. Of course, the insights we can gain from a close reading of a single object in its production and consumption contexts are limited. Without a series of similar objects to confirm the validity of this reading, it has to remain somewhat speculative. I am not aware of other objects like this exceptional flask, and it seems unlikely that many similar objects will be found in future archaeological excavations. Even though this single flask may not be particularly representative, I would argue that it points to the powerful potential of transformation in fourteenth-century China. That potential is visible in the material object itself, which contains in and on its body traces of its transformation from its main constituent elements of soil, water, and minerals into a finely decorated piece of ceramic considered good enough for the consumption of wine at court. Its potential is also embedded in the culture of consumption for which it was made, allowing consumers to make choices and use their association with an object itself as a way of transforming their social status. The wine held within the flask, finally, allows its consumers to imagine entering the dream-like world represented in the frame, transforming themselves into successful lovers, scholars, and graduates. Even if these dreams cannot last, the object and the many stories it can tell are here to stay.

Notes 1 2

3

Jessica Harrison-Hall, “The Taste for Cizhou,” Apollo 174, no. 592 (2011): 53; see also Ni Yibin 倪亦斌, Kantu shuoci 看圖說瓷 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2008). Of course, it is not completely absent. We know, for example, about rain prayers being held in the city of Handan during the fourteenth century. See Kenneth Pomeranz, “Water to Iron, Widows to Warlords: The Handan Rain Shrine in Modern Chinese History,” Late Imperial China 12, no. 1 (1991): 62–99. David M. Robinson, Empire’s Twilight: Northeast Asia under the Mongols, HarvardYenching Institute Monograph Series 68 (Cambridge, MA [etc.]: Harvard University Press, 2009), 40.

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  4 John Dardess has described this in several of his books. See, for example, John W. Dardess, Confucianism and Autocracy: Professional Elites in the Founding of the Ming Dynasty (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1983); John W. Dardess, Ming China, 1368–1644: A Concise History of a Resilient Empire, Critical Issues in History: World and International History (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2012).   5 Frederick W. Mote, Imperial China, 900–1800 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 521.  ­ 6 Guanzhong Luo, The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, trans. Martin Palmer (London: Penguin Classics, 2018).   7 Suzanne G. Valenstein, Handbook of Chinese Ceramics (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2012).   8 Jessica Rawson, The British Museum Book of Chinese Art, 2nd ed. (London: British Museum Press, 2007); Nigel Wood, Chinese Glazes: Their Origins, Chemistry and Re-Creation (London: A. & C. Black, 2007); Rose Kerr and Nigel Wood, Ceramic Technology, Science and Civilisation in China, Vol. 5: Chemistry and Chemical Technology, Part XII (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 531–4 for a discussion of the Qionglai and Changsha glazes, and 653–6 on painted decorations on these wares; Li Weidong et al., “Study on the Phase-Separated Opaque Glaze in Ancient China from Qionglai Kiln,” Ceramics International 29, no. 8 (2003): 933–7.   9 Kerr and Wood, Ceramic Technology, 653. 10 Kerr and Wood, 655. 11 Rawson, The British Museum Book of Chinese Art. 12 Kerr and Wood, Ceramic Technology, 170; the early tomb finds are on display in the Handan Museum (http://www.hdmuseum.org/); Wang Qingzheng and Chen Kelun, A Dictionary of Chinese Ceramics (Singapore: Sun Tree Publishing, 2002), 153. 13 Beijing daxue kaogu xuexi, Guantai Cizhou yao zhi 观台磁州窑址 (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1997); Kerr and Wood, Ceramic Technology, 170. 14 Song Dynasty Cizhou wares have been found in Shanxi Province in Jiexiu County, Gaoping County, and Taiyuan city. Song Dynasty Cizhou wares in Shandong have been found in De County. Mino Yutaka and Patricia Wilson, An Index to Chinese Ceramic Kiln Sites from the Six Dynasties to the Present (Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum, 1973). 15 On inscribed porcelains of a later era, see Qianshen Bai, “Inscriptions, Calligraphy and Seals on Jingdezhen Porcelains from the Shunzhi Era,” in Treasures from an Unknown Reign: Shunzhi Porcelain, 1644–1661, ed. Michael Butler, Julia B. Curtis, and Stephen Little (Alexandria, VA: Art Services International in association with the University of Washington Press, Seattle, 2002), 56–67.

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16 Guo Xuelei 郭学雷, Mingdai Cizhou yao ciqi 明代磁州窑瓷器 [Ceramic wares from the Ming Dynasty Cizhou kilns] (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 2005). 17 Two Cizhou-type meiping vases with black flowers on a white background were found in the Nanjing tomb of the Ming prince Yu Tongyuan and his wife, for example. Yu died in 1389, while his wife died one year earlier. Jia Weiyong 贾维勇 and Ma Tao 马涛, “Jiangsu Nanjingshi Qijiashan Mingmu faqu jianbao 江苏南京 市戚家山明墓发掘简报 [Brief Excavation Report on the Ming Tomb at Qijiashan in Nanjing],” Kaogu, no. 10 (1999): 18–26 +99. In another Nanjing tomb, dated to 1421 and belonging to a Lady Xu, a Cizhou-type covered jar, also with black flowers on a white surface, was found. Li Yuran 李蔚然, “Nanjing Zhonghua menwai Mingmu qingli jianbao 南京中华门外明墓清理简报 [Short report on a Ming tomb found outside Zhonghua Gate in Nanjing],” Kaogu, no. 9 (1962): 470–8, +7–8; for an illustration of this object, see Guo Xuelei 郭学雷, Mingdai Cizhou yao, 38. 18 In a recent study, Huo Hua put together the archaeological data of several excavation reports. Huo Hua 霍华, “Nanjing diqu Mingdai gongchen guizu mu chutu Hongwu chulun—jian lun chutu de qita ciqi 南京地区明代功臣贵族墓出 土洪武瓷刍论—兼论出土的其它瓷器 [Preliminary Discussion on Unearthed Hongwu Reign Porcelains from Ming Dynasty Noble Tombs in Nanjing: Also on Other Unearthed Porcelains],” Dongnan wenhua, no. 1 (2011): 86–95; a sixteenthcentury tomb in Taizhou (Jiangsu) also yielded a covered jar from Cizhou. Ye Dingyi 叶定一, “Jiangsu Taizhou Mingdai Liu Xiang fufu hezang mu qingli jianbao 江苏泰州明代刘湘夫妇合葬墓清理简报,” Wenwu, no. 08 (1992): 66–77 +103. 19 Mino Yutaka and Wilson, An Index to Chinese Ceramic Kiln Sites from the Six Dynasties to the Present, 30; Wang Xing 王兴, Cizhou yao shihua 磁州窑史话 (Tianjin: Tianjin guji chubanshe, 2004); Guo Xuelei 郭学雷, Mingdai Cizhou yao. 20 Feng Xiaoqi 冯小琦, ed., Gugong bowuguan cang Zhongguo gudai yaozhi biaoben: Hebei 故宮博物院藏中国古代窑址标本: 河北 [The specimens of ancient Chinese kilns in the collection of the Palace Museum: Hebei] (Beijing: Gugong chubanshe, 2013). 21 Li Zhiyan 李知宴 and Guan Shanming 關善明, Songdai tao ci 宋代陶瓷 [Song ceramics] (Hong Kong: Muwentang meishu chubanshe, 2012), 82. 22 See, for example, Cheng Yi 程宜, “Song Yuan Yinjiu Fengshang Dui Cizhou Yao de Yingxiang 宋元饮酒风尚对磁州窑的影响 [The Influence of the Drinking Culture of the Song and Yuan on the Cizhou Kilns],” 佛山市博物馆网站—学术 研究, accessed March 8, 2017, http://www.foshanmuseum.com/wbzy/xslw_disp. asp?xsyj_ID=293. 23 The evidence for this claim comes largely from juan 194 in Shen Shixing 申時 行 and Zhao Yongxian 趙用賢, eds., Da Ming huidian 大明會典, Xuxiu Siku quanshu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1995). Juan 194 forms part of the documentation of the Department of Works.

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24 Da Ming huidian, 194.2a. 25 Charles O. Hucker, A Dictionary of Official Titles in Imperial China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1985), 288. 26 Da Ming huidian, 194.2a. 27 Da Ming huidian, 194.2b. 28 The text continues with a specification of the quantities and shapes to be acquired from Junzhou and Cizhou. 194.2b–3a. Junzhou, also referred to as Yuzhou 禹州, is now known as Xuchang 許昌, in Henan. 29 Ma Xiaohua 马骁骅 and Zhang Wenjuan 张文娟, “Cizhou yao jiuqi zhizuo de lishi yange 磁州窑酒器制作的历史衍革 [The History of Cizhou Kiln Wineset Production],” Handan xueyuan xuebao, no. 1 (2016): 62–6; See also Cheng Yi 程宜, “Song Yuan Yinjiu Fengshang.” 30 On the fermentation of wine in this region, see H. T. Huang, Fermentations and Food Science, Science and Civilisation in China, Vol. 6: Biology and Biological Technology, Part V (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 31 Isaac Yue and Siu-Fu Tang, Scribes of Gastronomy: Representations of Food and Drink in Imperial Chinese Literature (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2013). 32 Huang, Fermentations and Food Science, 191. 33 Huang, 149. 34 Huang, 151. 35 Huang, 166. 36 Huang, 332 and 417. 37 Ren Shuanghe, 任双合 and Yang Jianguo 杨建国, Cizhao yao huapu 磁州窑画谱 [Drawings of patterns on Cizhou Kilns] (Beijing: Wenhua yishu chubanshe, 2009), 185, 191, 193. 38 These examples are all mentioned in Cheng Yi 程宜, “Song Yuan Yinjiu Fengshang”; see also the examples illustrated in Mou Baolei 牟宝蕾, “Meiping Yu Jiuping 梅瓶与酒瓶 [Meiping and wine bottles],” Nanfang Wenwu, no. 1 (2013): 188. 39 A bottle inscribed with Renheguan is also included in the Palace Museum collections. See Feng Xiaoqi 冯小琦, ed., Gugong bowuyuan cang Zhongguo gudai yaozhi biaoben 故宮博物院藏中国古代窑址标本 [The specimens of ancient Chinese kilns in the collection of the Palace Museum], Hebei (Beijing: Gugong chubanshe, 2013), 169. 40 Ren and Yang, Cizhou yao huapu, 259. 41 Cheng Yi 程宜, “Song Yuan Yinjiu Fengshang.” 42 Feng Shihua 冯时化, Jiu shi 酒史 [A history of wine] (Ming Dynasty; repr., Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1936).

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43 Anon., Jujia biyong shilei quanji 居家必用事類全集 [Collection of Necessary Natters Ordered for the Householder], Xuxiu Siku quanshu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2002). 44 I am grateful to Drs. Alice de Jong’s help with researching the background of this wine-making process. 45 Dale R. Johnson, “Courtesans, Lovers, and ‘Gold Thread Pond’ in Guan Hanqing’s Music Dramas,” Journal of Song-Yuan Studies, no. 33 (2003): 111–54. 46 Transcription and translation from British Museum website. 47 I am grateful to Dr Pietro de Laurentis for his help with interpreting the calligraphy. 48 Sun Yue 孙越, “Yulou moshi yuanliu shengcheng kao—cong Jinpingmei zhong Meng yulou zhi jian tanqi ‘玉楼’ 模式源流生成考——从《金瓶梅》中孟玉楼 之簪谈起—A Probe in to the Yulou Mode from a Perspective of Meng Yu-Lou’s Hairpin in Jiin Ping Mei,” Neijiang Shifan Xueyuan Xuebao 30, no. 07 (2015): 15–16. 49 Sun Yue 孙越, 16. ­50 The anonymous story, which presumably dates to the Song Dynasty, was included in the Yuan Dynasty collection Liushi jia xiaoshuo 六十家小說, later renamed Qing Pingshan tang huaben 清平山堂话本. In later appearances, the couplet was also inscribed on a hairpin, owned by Meng Yulou, who was Ximen Qing’s third wife in Jin Ping Mei. 51 British Museum collection, inventory number 1927,0217.1.

Bibliography Anon. Jujia biyong shilei quanji 居家必用事類全集 [Collection of Necessary Matters Ordered for the Householder]. Xuxiu Siku quanshu. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2002. Bai Qianshen. “Inscriptions, Calligraphy and Seals on Jingdezhen Porcelains from the Shunzhi Era.” In Treasures from an Unknown Reign: Shunzhi Porcelain, 1644–1661, edited by Michael Butler, Julia B. Curtis, and Stephen Little, 56–67. Alexandria, VA: Art Services International in association with the University of Washington Press, Seattle, 2002. Beijing daxue kaogu xuexi. Guantai Cizhou yao zhi 观台磁州窑址 [The Cizhou kilns in Guantai]. Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1997. Cheng Yi. “Song Yuan Yinjiu Fengshang Dui Cizhou Yao de Yingxiang 宋元饮酒风尚 对磁州窑的影响 [The Influence of the Drinking Culture of the Song and Yuan on the Cizhou Kilns].” From the Foshan Museum website: http://www.foshanmuseum. com/wbzy/xslw_disp.asp?xsyj_ID=293, accessed March 8, 2017. Dardess, John W. Confucianism and Autocracy: Professional Elites in the Founding of the Ming Dynasty. Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1983.

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Dardess, John W. Ming China, 1368–1644: A Concise History of a Resilient Empire. Critical Issues in History: World and International History. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2012. Feng Shihua 冯时化. Jiu shi 酒史 [A history of wine]. Ming Dynasty. Reprint, Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1936. Feng Xiaoqi 冯小琦, ed. Gugong bowuguan cang Zhongguo gudai yaozhi biaoben: Hebei 故 宮博物院藏中国古代窑址标本: 河北 [The specimens of ancient Chinese kilns in the collection of the Palace Museum: Hebei]. Beijing: Gugong chubanshe, 2013. Guo Xuelei 郭学雷. Mingdai Cizhou yao ciqi 明代磁州窯瓷器 [Ceramic wares from the Ming Dynasty Cizhou kilns]. Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 2005. Harrison-Hall, Jessica. “The Taste for Cizhou.” Apollo 174, no. 592 (2011): 48–54. Huang, H. T. Fermentations and Food Science. Science and Civilisation in China, Vol. 6: Biology and Biological Technology, Part V. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Hucker, Charles O. A Dictionary of Official Titles in Imperial China. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1985. ­Huo Hua 霍华. “Nanjing diqu Mingdai gongchen guizu mu chutu Hongwu chulun— jian lun chutu de qita ciqi 南京地区明代功臣贵族墓出土洪武瓷刍论——兼 论出土的其它瓷器 [Preliminary Discussion on Unearthed Hongwu Reign Porcelains from Ming Dynasty Noble Tombs in Nanjing: Also on Other Unearthed Porcelains].” Dongnan wenhua, no. 1 (2011): 86–95. Jia Weiyong 贾维勇, and Ma Tao 马涛. “Jiangsu Nanjingshi Qijiashan Mingmu faqu jianbao 江苏南京市戚家山明墓发掘简报 [Brief Excavation Report on the Ming Tomb at Qijiashan in Nanjing].” Kaogu, no. 10 (1999): 18–26, 99. Johnson, Dale R. “Courtesans, Lovers, and ‘Gold Thread Pond’ in Guan Hanqing’s Music Dramas.” Journal of Song-Yuan Studies, no. 33 (2003): 111–54. Kerr, Rose, and Nigel Wood. Ceramic Technology. Science and Civilisation in China, Vol. 5: Chemistry and Chemical Technology, Part XII. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Li Weidong, Li Jiazhi, Wu Jun, and Guo Jingkun. “Study on the Phase-Separated Opaque Glaze in Ancient China from Qionglai Kiln.” Ceramics International 29, no. 8 (2003): 933–7. Li Yuran 李蔚然. “Nanjing Zhonghua menwai Mingmu qingli jianbao 南京中华门 外明墓清 理简报 [Short report on a Ming tomb found outside Zhonghua Gate in Nanjing].” Kaogu, no. 9 (1962): 470–8, +7–8. Li Zhiyan 李知宴, and Guan Shanming 關善明. Songdai taoci 宋代陶瓷 [Song ceramics]. Hong Kong: Muwentang meishu chubanshe, 2012. Luo, Guanzhong. The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Translated by Martin Palmer. London: Penguin Classics, 2018. Ma Xiaohua 马骁骅, and Zhang Wenjuan 张文娟. “Cizhou yao jiuqi zhizuo de lishi yange 磁 州窑酒器制作的历史衍革 [The History of Cizhou Kiln Wineset Production].” Handan xueyuan xuebao, no. 1 (2016): 62–6.

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Mino Yutaka, and Patricia Wilson. An Index to Chinese Ceramic Kiln Sites from the Six Dynasties to the Present. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum, 1973. Mote, Frederick W. Imperial China, 900–1800. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,1999. Mou Baolei 牟宝蕾. “Meiping Yu Jiuping 梅瓶与酒瓶 [Meiping and wine bottles].” Nanfang Wenwu, no. 1 (2013): 188–93. Ni Yibin 倪亦斌. Kantu shuoci 看圖說瓷 [Explaining porcelain by way of its pictures]. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2008. Pomeranz, Kenneth. “Water to Iron, Widows to Warlords: The Handan Rain Shrine in Modern Chinese History.” Late Imperial China 12, no. 1 (1991): 62–99. Rawson, Jessica. The British Museum Book of Chinese Art. 2nd ed. London: British Museum Press, 2007. Ren Shuanghe 任双合, and Yang Jianguo 杨建国. Cizhou yao huapu 磁州窑画谱 [Drawings of Patterns on Cizhou Kilns]. Beijing: Wenhua yishu chubanshe, 2009. ­Robinson, David M. Empire’s Twilight: Northeast Asia under the Mongols. HarvardYenching Institute Monograph Series 68. Cambridge, MA. [etc.]: Harvard University Press, 2009. Shen Shixing 申時行, and Zhao Yongxian 趙用賢, eds. Da Ming huidian 大明會 典 [Statutes of the Great Ming]. Xuxiu Siku quanshu. Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1995. Sun Yue 孙越. “Yulou moshi yuanliu shengcheng kao—cong Jinpingmei zhong Meng yulou zhi jian tanqi ‘玉楼’ 模式源流生成考—从《金瓶梅》中孟玉楼之簪谈起 [A Probe into the Yulou Mode from a Perspective of Meng Yu-Lou’s Hairpin in Jin Ping Mei].” Neijiang Shifan Xueyuan Xuebao 30, no. 07 (2015): 15–19. Valenstein, Suzanne G. Handbook of Chinese Ceramics. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2012. Wang Qingzheng, and Chen Kelun. A Dictionary of Chinese Ceramics. Singapore: Sun Tree Publishing, 2002. Wang Xing 王兴. Cizhou yao shihua 磁州窑史话 [History of the Cizhou kiln]. Tianjin: Tianjin guji chubanshe, 2004. Wood, Nigel. Chinese Glazes: Their Origins, Chemistry and Re-Creation. London: A. & C. Black, 2007. Ye Dingyi 叶定一. “Jiangsu Taizhou Mingdai Liu Xiang fufu hezang mu qingli jianbao 江苏 泰州明代刘湘夫妇合葬墓清理简报 [Brief report of the joint burial site of Liu Xiang and his wife from Ming Dynasty Taizhou in Jiangsu].” Wenwu, no. 08 (1992): 66–77 +103. Yue, Isaac, and Siu-Fu Tang. Scribes of Gastronomy: Representations of Food and Drink in Imperial Chinese Literature. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2013.

­2

Jars that Cheered: Alcohol and Stoneware Containers in Java before 1500 CE Jiří Jákl

Introduction One of the common, yet little studied, uses of ceramic jars in Southeast Asia was to ferment, store, trade, and ceremonially present alcohol. This chapter looks at the complex relationship between ceramic jars and an alcoholic beverage based on rice, technically speaking rice beer, although the term rice wine is common in East Asia. Rice wine typically refers to the drink called jiu in Chinese, a potent beverage made from cooked grains for which there is no exact English equivalent. Chinese scholars, in particular, prefer the term rice wine for Chinese beer, arguing that jiu resembles grape wine more than beer in terms of its alcohol content as well as its overall organoleptic character. It is also often argued that rice wine was, and continues to be, a socially and ritually important drink, not unlike grape wine in Europe.1 I nevertheless prefer to use the term beer in its general meaning of any alcoholic, non-distilled drink made from fermented grain, or, alternatively, the Chinese term jiu. Though my focus will mostly dwell on pre-Islamic Java (from the ninth to the fifteenth century CE), other parts of the region will be discussed where appropriate. The chapter develops its argument in three sections. First, I briefly introduce the method(s) of making rice beer in Java before 1500 CE, when large stoneware jars imported from China were used as fermenting vessels. We will see that ceramic jars were symbolically powerful containers, and that pre-Islamic Javanese society conceptualized alcohol fermentation in terms of pregnancy. I will argue that the process of alcohol fermentation, poorly understood until the nineteenth century, was believed to involve divine agency, and that ceramic jars were believed to be objects particularly suitable for this transformation. In the

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second part, I will analyze a specific form of alcohol containers, called mercury jars by archaeologists and ceramics scholars; these were crudely made stoneware vessels produced in southeastern China between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries and used as trade containers to carry Chinese jiu to Southeast Asia. I ascribe to the previously expressed scholarly position that these jars were originally not used as vessels for liquid quicksilver but utilized as export containers for Chinese jiu. To add further credence to this view, I introduce an important Old Javanese source that testifies that Chinese rice beer was indeed well known in pre-Islamic Java. In the third part, I will offer evidence to show that, from the twelfth century onward, Chinese jiu was cured by the process of crude pasteurization, an original Chinese contribution to the global history of food and drinks. I offer the hypothesis that an increased need to cure alcohol to make it survive long overseas journeys lay behind this significant chemical discovery. We will see that the earliest mercury jars found in Southeast Asian archaeological sites date to the first half of the twelfth century, corresponding chronologically with the oldest extant evidence of Chinese craftsmen mastering the process of alcohol pasteurization. The shape and size of mercury jars are well suited to the newly discovered process of alcohol pasteurization. Finally, I will offer two possible scenarios that explain why mercury jars ceased to be produced and utilized after the fourteenth century.

Javanese Beer, Imported Jars, and Pre-Modern Concepts of Alcohol Fermentation Pre-Islamic Java was a palm-wine-centered region: the fermented sap of several palm species was a beverage of immense cultural, ritual, and social importance. Palm wine was not the only alcoholic drink known in ancient Java; before 1500 the Javanese recognized more than a dozen types of fermented and distilled drinks and, apart from palm wine, they knew a variety of fruit wines, tuberand mushroom-based intoxicating brews, as well as the sugar cane wine called kilaṅ in Old Javanese.2 They also made at least two types of beer based on grain, denoted in Old Javanese as brəm and tapai respectively. Both terms first appear in the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, a court poem composed between the second half of the ninth century and the first quarter of the tenth century. Unlike the relatively simple, mostly spontaneous, fermentation of palm or fruit wine, any production of beer entails two distinct steps: saccharification and fermentation. The former represents a hydrolysis (the chemical breakdown of a substance due to its

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reaction with water) of the starch in the cereal to fermentable sugars, whereas the latter encompasses a conversion of the sugars by yeasts to ethyl-alcohol and carbon dioxide.3 While Old Javanese brəm denotes the most common type of rice beer, tapai seems to refer to a simple, mild beer that was either a by-product of making fermented snacks from glutinous rice, or, alternatively, represented the first phase in the fermentation of more potent brəm. Unlike palm wine, rice beer has become obsolete in modern Java, though it still retains its importance in Bali, mainly in Hindu ritual.4 In the eighteenth century, if not earlier, an advanced Chinese method of the so-called mold saccharification, discussed in detail in the next part of this chapter, was introduced, and has since then been widely practiced in Java. In pre-modern Java, rice beer was fermented in ceramic jars that were buried in the ground for weeks, sometimes even months, to mature the liquid contents. A valuable description by Stamford Raffles from the first quarter of the nineteenth century reflects a number of the stages of beer making in pre-modern Java. According to this testimony, brem was produced around 1815 almost exclusively from glutinous rice: In making bróm, the kétan is boiled in large quantities, and being stewed with rági, remains exposed in open tubs till fermentation takes place, when the liquor is poured off into closed earthen vessels. It is generally buried in the earth for several months, by which the process of fermentation is checked and the strength of liquor is increased: sometimes it is concentrated by boiling. . . . Bróm, which has been preserved for several years, is highly esteemed among the natives, constituting a powerful spirit, which causes violent intoxication followed by severe headache in persons not accustomed to its use.5

While it is plausible that any solid, well-potted vessel could be used for fermentation and storage of beer, ceramic forms popular for this purpose in pre-Islamic Java were large stoneware jars, imported from the ninth century, if not earlier, into maritime Southeast Asia from China and Vietnam. It is their combination of solid stoneware, impervious glaze, and large volume that makes these jars excellent fermenting and storage vessels. A large number of glazed stoneware jars have been found along the maritime routes from the southeast coast of China to numerous sites in maritime Southeast Asia,6 some of them still intact and buried in the ground.7 The idea that some of the jars were used to transport, keep, and serve alcohol is not new: Roxana Brown, discussing storage jars from Southeast Asia, has noted that many were simply for water while others held alcohol.8 According to Marie-France Dupoizat and Naniek Harkantiningsih, ceramic jars “were necessary for the preparation of

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some foodstuffs as well as for their storage. This was the case for local beers, arak, sauces and pickled fish. All these products needed to be fermented and macerated in jars for relatively long periods of time.”9 Elsewhere in the same text, the authors note that the durable stoneware bodies of the jars were perfectly suited to shipping or storing alcohol.10 Most of these early jars are well made and some reach almost 80 centimeters in height.11 Barbara Harrisson gives a good general description of this type of jar, describing examples as “wide-based, barrel-shaped, rimless, with a flaring neck and rectangular shoulder bosses between four rolled, horizontal handles.”12 It seems that the jars dated from the ninth to the twelfth century in particular display several technical features that were designed to make it easy to bury them in the ground and lift them up again once their contents had matured. Most importantly, the lugs (also called ears by some scholars)13 are typically positioned in a way that would ease the lifting of the vessel out of the hole in the earth: they are placed at a sharp rather than a wide angle so that the ropes used to lift the vessel out of the ground fit securely and put the least possible pressure on the lugs. On later jars, lugs are often decorative and the angle at which they are fastened to the body of the vessel is usually less sharp. According to Harrisson, jars dated from the ninth to the twelfth century are known in Kalimantan and elsewhere as gusi, and most of them were produced at the kilns in Hunan, and probably also in Than-Hoa in Vietnam. Harrisson also notes that there seems to be a distinct link between the Old Javanese term guci and glazed stoneware jars, tracing the loanword and its variants back to the Vietnamese: The Vietnamese origin of certain gusi may have had bearing on the name gusi. In Malay the word kuchi was used to refer to the region of what is now northern Vietnam. It was probably synonymous with the ancient Vietnamese name Kun Chun which identified the Province of Thanh-Hoa where the Vietnamese production of gusi might have been located.14

Though we cannot be entirely sure, it is plausible that the Old Javanese term guci, which appeared in the ninth- or early tenth-century Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, a version of the tale of Rāma, referred to the type of glazed stoneware jars that were employed in Java to ferment, store, and ritually present alcohol. Stuart Robson has recently revisited the Old Javanese word guci, pointing out that the available literary evidence suggests that the jars called guci were used to store and serve alcohol.15 Robson has concluded that the Old Javanese word can be derived from the place name Giao Chi, an early name for the northern part of Vietnam, which was famous for its trade in ceramics.16 This claim, however, is

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not entirely persuasive; the etymology of the Old Javanese word guci remains unclear as it might also be traced back to a Chinese placename.17 Another interesting structural feature found on a number of early guci jars is an extremely short spout.18 I offer here as a hypothesis that the aperture might have served for the insertion of a hollow tube to take a testing batch from a jar buried in the ground: the straw inserted into the jar would be long enough to allow for taking sips to test the stage of fermentation, as well as to judge the taste profile and strength of a liquor. Straws were also used to drink rice beer from a vessel to avoid the floating remains of husk. The practice of drinking alcohol from a vessel using a straw has been documented from China, as well as parts of pre-modern and modern Southeast Asia: one of the most interesting depictions of using straws to drink alcohol from a common vessel is known from a twelfthcentury relief at Angkor Wat. The last interesting feature of this type of jar is an acutely beveled flared neck noted as being typical of the early guci jars.19 It is possible that upon serving the beverage—still in its fermenting jar—a decorative lid might have been fitted on this rim.20 A number of elaborate separate metal lids, often made of gold, have been documented from ancient Java where, in the context of festive meals for the elite, they would be fitted on to glazed stoneware jars filled with alcohol.21 One of the most famous examples of this type of cover is an elaborate golden lid with a graceful spout from the famous Wonoboyo hoard from Central Java. Wahyono Martowikrido, who has studied the hoard in detail, claims that this lid and the spout were “originally meant to be mounted on a vessel of another material, probably stoneware, of a much larger size, used to hold a liquid. Judged by the precious material, such an ornate vessel was used on special occasions organised by members of the upper class only.”22 This configuration is documented on at least one scene on the Brahmā temple in the Loro Jonggrang temple complex, Prambanan, in Central Java. This scene has often been interpreted as depicting gourmand Brahmans, bearded figures who participate in the feast associated with the coronation of epic hero Rāma as it is described in the Kakawin Rāmāyana, the court poem on which the reliefs at Candi Brahmā are based.23 I have argued elsewhere that the bearded Brahman characters depicted at this scene—which represents the gaṇacakra ritual feast—imbibe alcohol, probably rice beer or sugar cane wine.24 As we know from Sanskrit literature, alcohol was typically consumed at the gaṇacakra ritual feast.25 Inspecting the intriguing scene, we note three large vessels: at least two of them seem to be ceramic containers with short spouts, most probably stoneware jars, while the third one is shaped like a

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bottle, probably encased in a cane wrapping.26 Old Javanese textual evidence suggests that ceramic vessels used to store and present alcohol—apart from the guci discussed above—were called rombe and gənuk. While rombe represents a loanword from Tamil,27 gənuk is an Austronesian term used for clay containers in which alcohol was fermented and stored,28 translated as (large, earthen) pot, pitcher in the authoritative Old Javanese-English Dictionary.29 Old Javanese literary and epigraphical sources, however, allow for more precise definitions of this word. An explicit reference in a Balinese inscription issued in the late eleventh century by King Jayapangus in Old Javanese (by that time the court language of Bali) refers to gənuk as a container in which alcohol was stored and traded.30 In Bali, the association of ceramic jars with alcohol, especially rice beer, has even become proverbial; we gather this from the saying payuk perumpung misi brem, which translates as brem is a beloved drink, but it may be inside a container that looks bad on the outside.31 Not unlike the familiar phrase “do not judge a book by its cover,” the Balinese proverb not only cautions against drawing conclusions from a first glance, but implies that simple ceramic jars, having a rather unappealing appearance, were employed to ferment rice beer, until today a much beloved drink in Bali. A very interesting comparison between the shape and function of gənuk and the female body is found in the Old Javanese Bhomāntaka, a court poem composed by an anonymous author in the second half of the twelfth century. We learn that in Java gənuk was used to denote a large and round jar; in a simile a gənuk-jar is compared to the belly of a pregnant woman, the bed-friend (kuṇḍaṅ) of an army cook. The court poem describes how both of them join the army train: milu-milu teki taṅ juru bəṭək makuṇḍaṅ ikahən satuṅgal amətəṅ seḍəṅnya n aḍayaṅ suməlaṅ aṅodwad iṅ rabi nikā n kumat kabaranaṅ burat-burat abaṅ wətəṅnya n agəḍe yateka sagənuk32 The cook also joined in having a “bed-friend,” who became pregnant when working as a prostitute; now he dragged his “wife,” who was feverish, her body plastered with a red cosmetic, and a belly as big as a fermenting pot.33

The comparison implies that beer fermenting in a jar is not unlike a baby developing inside the womb.34 This reveals that in pre-modern times the way in which alcohol fermentation works remained somewhat enigmatic: in fact, the process of alcohol fermentation remained poorly understood until the nineteenth century. Alcohol intoxication, too, was described and observed in archaic, pre-modern cultures, but rather than chemically understood it was often

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interpreted as an instance of the divine or demonic possession of human bodies and minds.35 The Javanese and Balinese concept of alcohol fermentation has been shared with other people in the Indo-Malay world. The Ibans in Borneo, for example, until recently compared large stoneware jars used to ferment and store rice beer (borak) with female wombs, “because jars renewed and recycled life,” as Barbara Harrisson explains.36

­Mercury Jars and the Trade in Chinese Alcohol One of the most intriguing vessel forms found in Southeast Asia is the coarse and highly standardized stoneware container that archaeologists and ceramics scholars call a mercury jar. Made of gray stoneware, the jars have narrow but thick flat bases, their bodies flare upward to a height of between 25 and almost 38 centimeters, to curve inward to a small mouth of between about 1.5 and 2.5 centimeters in diameter. The largest jar found so far was recovered from the Lingga Wreck, a recently discovered Song vessel wrecked in the first quarter of the twelfth century in the Lingga Archipelago south of Singapore. It is 37.5 centimeters high with a diameter of 13.5 centimeters.37 Mercury jars are among the most common artifacts found at a number of sites, such as Kota Cina in Sumatra, Fort Canning in Singapore, Angkor Wat in Cambodia, and Tuban and Trowulan in Java.38 In all these places, their appearance has been linked to the early presence of Chinese people; in some instances, the vessels have been found alongside drinking and eating utensils, such as cups, bowls, and shallow dishes, suggesting the context of feasting. Outside Southeast Asia, mercury jars have been found in a number of sites in Fujian in South China, the Sacred Hill site in Hong Kong, at Penghu in the Pescadores Islands, and throughout archaeological sites in Japan.39 Mercury jars have also been recovered from the Quanzhou Bay and Dinghai Bay Shipwrecks, both found in the coastal waters of Fujian.40 The special shape of this type of stoneware vessel, which seems to have been designed for a particular function, is striking. For decades, the actual use of these jars has been one of the hotly debated topics among archaeologists and ceramics specialists and four hypotheses have been advanced suggesting that the vessels either held rose water or perfume, gunpowder or flaming oil for use in combat, liquid mercury, or alcohol.41 Leaving aside an anachronistic claim that mercury jars served as containers for gunpowder used by seventeenth-century Chinese troops, all the other suggestions must be taken seriously as the liquid

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substances listed above can be stored and transported in jars. The meanwhile well-established view that mercury jars were used to store liquid mercury was first advanced in 1972 by the chemist Francis Treloar, who, drawing on previous research into the alchemical uses of mercury in the Malay Peninsula and India, noted these jars’ heavily potted bases, which would have allowed them to store liquids of high density, such as mercury.42 The trace residues from one vessel examined by Treloar in the Sarawak Museum indeed indicate that mercury was stored or transported inside it, but most scholars now believe that the case of the Sarawak jar testifies to a secondary use of these containers. Derek Heng, who has studied the commodity trade between China and the Indo-Malay world between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries, observes in regard to Treloar’s findings: Subsequent finds from Southeast Asia do not suggest that these jars were used in the storage and transportation of mercury in other Southeast Asian areas, but “mercury jar” has remained a term for classifying this type of jar within the Southeast Asian archaeological context.43

Several aspects of the available archaeological record in fact suggest that small-mouthed jars were not originally used as containers for liquid mercury. Importantly, a single mercury jar recovered from the Lingga Wreck briefly discussed above indicates that its content—Chinese alcohol—was to be consumed by the ship’s crew during a voyage as a single jar of jiu would make a rather improbable trade item.44 The view that Chinese jiu was imported to Southeast Asia is not new and the idea that narrow-mouthed vessels of this type were used to store and transport alcohol was originally proposed by Chinese researchers who were finding these vessels in Chinese archaeological sites.45 Chinese jiu was probably first introduced to Southeast Asia as an exotic rarity only available to the elite through diplomatic gifts, as offering rice wine was an ancient Chinese diplomatic tradition and Chinese alcohol figures among diplomatic gifts by the Song period. Groslier was probably the first scholar who recognized fragments of mercury jars at several Angkor-period sites in Cambodia and interpreted them as discarded packing for alcohol.46 In 1297, Zhou Daguan gives us a rare insight into the lives of the Chinese in Angkor in his Zhenla Fengtu Ji (Description of Cambodia). He records how Chinese merchants, who by then had been residing in Cambodia for a few generations, drank imported Chinese jiu. By the mid-fourteenth century Chinese-style jiu might have been made in parts of Southeast Asia. This can be assumed as Wang Dayuan explicitly mentions alcohol among the products of Temasik, ancient Singapore, which it had reached as either a Chinese or Malay

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product.47 Another important textual testimony to the availability of Chinese jiu in Java is provided by a passage in the Old Javanese Wratiśāsana, a code of discipline for religious persons compiled in the thirteenth century that may, however, contain some earlier textual material. This text lists Chinese beer among the alcoholic beverages allowed for consumption by the adherents of Śaivism, those among the Javanese Hindus who worshipped Śiva as their main god: ­Kunaṅ ikaṅ inum-inumanira yogya kenuma de saṅ siddhāntabrata brəm kilaṅ madhu tampo brəm cina yeka wnaṅ inumənira. Tathāpinya yan campur bhājananya huwus winadahakəniṅ sajəṅ tan yogya juga inumənira.48 Now the (alcoholic) drinks that can be imbibed by Śaivas include: beer, sugar cane wine, fermented honey, tampo, Chinese beer; these can be drunk. Yet, if [the drinks] were already offered as libations they cannot be drunk any more.49

The passage must be interpreted in the context of what we know about the dietary regime of Śaivists in pre-Islamic Java. Old Javanese texts repeatedly represent Śaivists drinking mildly alcoholic palm wine as a refreshing and nourishing beverage, and occasionally drinking other, more potent, alcoholic drinks, such as sugar cane wine and rice beer. Three important insights can be gained from this passage. First, Chinese beer is called brәm cina in the text, which translates as Chinese beer. Obviously, the Javanese understood well that the drink in question was a kind of beer, not unlike beers produced locally by fermenting rice and other grains. Second, it must have been reasonably well known and commonly available in Java in the thirteenth century, if not earlier, for religious persons were certainly not among the typical consumers of imported Chinese alcohol. It is tempting to speculate that they received Chinese jiu from pious lay supporters in the same way they received food and palm wine. Third, brəm cina was allowed for consumption on the condition that it had not been used previously for religious sacrifice. In the context of pre-Islamic Java, any such libation would entail either the sacrifice to chthonic spirits (such as bhūtas) or deified ancestors. Despite growing Chinese and Southeast Asian evidence that mercury jars were used to carry and store Chinese alcohol, some scholars remain unpersuaded. John Miksic, favoring the view that the jars were used to transport liquid mercury, has drawn parallels with small containers used for mercury in medieval Samarkand, and with the vessels for mercury documented from the ethnographic past, mainly from the nineteenth and early twentienth centuries. Miksic has posed two interesting questions:

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Transformative Jars Why make a special form of container when common storage jars could be used for a multitude of purposes, from water, wine, and sauce, to dried fish and fruit, and even to contain finer ceramics? Why would a special form have been designed when the standard shape was more efficient in terms of the use of labour and materials? The evidence supports the idea that these jars were made for a special purpose, and later reused in many contexts.50

I­t sounds reasonable, then, that there would be little reason to produce a highly specialized vessel shape to store and transport alcohol if already wellestablished types of containers, such as the large jars discussed in the first part of this chapter, would serve the function well. To answer the questions posed by Miksic, we must try to understand what made mercury jars special and why they appeared for the first time in the late eleventh century and ceased to be produced by the late fourteenth century. We can start with the view offered by Heng, who has suggested that stoneware mercury jars were specifically made to transport rice beer produced in Fujian to Southeast Asia.51 In the most detailed study on mercury jars published so far, Sharon Wai-yee Wong has studied these intriguing vessels at Chinese sites and suggested that they were produced in the Cizao kiln complex in Jinjiang not far from the port of Quanzhou in Fujian.52 Importantly, Wong has argued that the earliest of the jars were already produced in the second half of the eleventh century, while previously scholars believed that the ceramic type of mercury jars first appeared in the twelfth century. Interestingly, so far, no mercury jars produced in the eleventh century have been found outside China: according to current knowledge, the earliest mercury jars found in Southeast Asian archaeological sites date to the second quarter of the twelfth century. It seems that this new type of vessel was initially used in inner-Chinese trade networks. Wong has suggested that mercury jars contained a product which was a familiar trade good in this region, probably another major Chinese commodity produced at a location close to the jars’ production site in Fujian.53 While there is no evidence that liquid mercury was extracted anywhere near the Cizao kilns, there is abundant evidence that jiu was among the major exports of Song Dynasty Fujian. Some of the mercury jars recovered at sites in Southeast China were found in tombs of members of the local gentry, where similar vessels also appear represented in murals. In a Song Dynasty mural painting at the Baisha tomb in the province of Henan, a man is depicted carrying a tall jar that resembles a mercury jar; the inscription accompanying the scene clearly identifies the contents of the bottle as wine (jiu).54 Wong has also pointed to the similarity

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between the mercury jar and the so-called vintage bottle (qing gu mei jiu), another Song Dynasty Cizao kiln product. As has been stated above, in Southeast Asia mercury jars were often found in ceramic assemblages that indicate convivial festive settings, a context in which the vessels were most unlikely to store liquid mercury (which was mainly utilized in the extraction of gold).55 In Fort Canning in Singapore mercury jars are, for example, associated with the use of rare Yuan blue-and-white porcelain bowls and dishes, and in Srah Andong, the royal palace district in Angkor, mercury jars have been found along with other, often luxurious, Chinese ceramic imports.56 Wong has noted that “the main consumers of this commodity may have been the members from the palace, middle-class residents or officials.”57 At the Fuhoushan site in Quanzhou, hundreds of mercury jar shards have been found distributed in five different Song-period cultural layers in the backyard of a government house alongside bowls, dishes, and stove shards.58 Based on the previously presented evidence on the connection between mercury jars, alcohol from Fujian, and Chinese networks, the last part of this chapter considers the possible use of these specialized stoneware jars in the long-distance trade in Chinese alcohol.

Jiu, Crude Pasteurization, and the First Settled Communities of Chinese People in Southeast Asia Although evidence collected so far clearly supports the view that mercury jars were used to transport Chinese alcohol to Southeast Asia, it does answer the question raised by Miksic about why there was a need for a new, highly specialized vessel form. To answer this question and understand what made the export of Chinese beers attractive, it is useful to briefly discuss the nature and chemical properties of jiu and the features that made it different from locally produced rice beer and other alcoholic drinks in Southeast Asia during the eleventh to fourteenth centuries when mercury jars were in use. Since antiquity, the Chinese have made a great variety of alcoholic drinks, such as fruit wines, mead (a fermented solution of honey mixed with water), Job’s tear wine (a type of beer made by the fermentation of grains called Job’s tears), and mungbean wine (a type of beer made by the fermentation of mung beans). Until the Han period, they also made a simple beer (which was not unlike prehistoric European beers in terms of its fermentation process) by malting the grain using the so-called sprouted grain process in which fruit or honey was used to start

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the fermentation.59 Yet, as shown above, the most prestigious Chinese alcoholic beverage was jiu, a drink made from cooked grains and distinguished by its high alcohol content, which is over 10 percent. The Chinese jiu is made by way of so-called mold saccharification, a uniquely Chinese contribution to ancient beverage-making technologies. In brief, amylolysis fermentation, which still remains the traditional method for making jiu in China, exploits the fungi of the genera Aspergillus, Rhizopus, Monascus, and others to break down the carbohydrates of rice and other grains into simple, fermentable sugars. A thick mold mycelium was traditionally grown on a variety of steamed cereals, pulses, and other materials in making the saccharificationfermentation agent called qu 麴. This ferment can be used to inoculate larger amounts of grains to produce an alcoholic drink, or dried and stored as a stable solid product in the form of cakes or bricks for use in future fermentation.60 Since the Han period, qu ferment has been made primarily with wheat, which was roasted or steamed, ground, and formed into cakes, which were then exposed to the air and allowed to become infected by fungi and yeasts.61 This new technology was so powerful that by the second century it eventually overtook the sprouted grain process mentioned above. The use of specialized ferments to saccharify the grain and start fermentation meant that by the Han Dynasty beveragemakers could forgo malting the grain and had little need for fruit or honey to start the process of fermentation. One important innovation introduced in the sixth century was the cumulative addition of fresh fluffy rice to the medium before the substrate was spent; this practice enabled Chinese beverage-makers to produce highly potent jiu with alcohol contents comparable to those of grape wines in the West, that is, around 12 percent.62 It was, of course, this superior kind of jiu that was imported from the twelfth century, if not earlier, to Java and other parts of Southeast Asia, as evidenced by numerous finds of mercury jars, Old Javanese textual sources, and infrequent Chinese reports. Certainly, one of the major innovations of Chinese beverage-makers was the production of red wine, prepared via the use of red ferment (hong qu 紅麴), which started to be produced in Fujian in the tenth or eleventh century.63 The production of red ferment is a labor-intensive craft, and it gives rise to the jiu that is more potent than any beverage made from a common qu ferment. Very much a specialty of Southeast China, red wine had become a familiar commodity by the thirteenth and fourteenth century of the Yuan Dynasty. Until today, red wine remains a specialty of Fujian. It is a potent drink; in contemporary Fujian red wine the average alcohol content reaches between 14.5 and 16  percent, which is close to Japanese sake. When we compare the alcohol content of this

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powerful jiu to typical grape wine (around 11 to 12  percent), or malted beer (3 to 4 percent), we recognize immediately that (along with its flavor profile) it was the high intoxicating power of Fujian red wine that formed the main attraction of this drink outside China. It is tempting to speculate that the high alcohol content of Fujian red wines, with their relatively slow pace of spoilage, enabled the sustained export of Chinese jiu to distant markets in Southeast Asia. Though a direct journey from southern Chinese ports to Java and Sumatra took less than a month, and probably close to two weeks when following a strong monsoon wind,64 before 1500 merchant ships would typically ply their business by short hops between a number of ports, during which they stayed for a period of time in one port before moving to another. Selling their cargo piecemeal, a typical voyage actually took months to complete, which explains a strong need to prolong the shelflife of liquid contents, such as jiu. Yet another technological improvement that might have triggered the regular trade in Chinese jiu to Southeast Asia occurred in the twelfth century: the mastering of the process of crude pasteurization. It seems no coincidence that the oldest mercury jars found in Southeast Asia, dated to the early twelfth century, correspond chronologically with the earliest Chinese textual record of a crude form of pasteurization of alcoholic drinks. The pasteurization of rice wine is mentioned in the Bai Shan jiu Jing (Wine Canon of North Hill), the most important work on the technology of alcoholic beverages in the Song Dynasty, written in 1117 by Gong Zhu, who had operated a brewery in Hangzhou.65 In this text, fourteen distinct phases of jiu production are described, of which the boiling of filtered jiu forms the last step. Huang’s translation of an important passage on the method to preserve jiu describes it as follows: Two pieces of beeswax, five slices of bamboo leaves, and half a pill of serrated arum are added to a jar of newly pressed wine, which is covered with mulberry leaves. It is placed on a steamer and heated until the wine inside begins to boil. The wax acts as a defoamer and prevents the wine from frothing over. When the fire dies down the jar is removed, placed in a heap of lime, and allowed to cool very slowly. The wine must be clear before it can be heated, and the mulberry leaf cover should not be disturbed while the jar is being steamed.66

Huang, the foremost historian of Chinese food technology, observes that “This operation is probably the world’s first pasteurization process in action in the wine and spirit industry.”67 However, there was yet another method of crude pasteurization, as we gather from the Bai Shan jiu Jing. In this text, the

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jiu-producer is ordered to let sealed jars of clear alcoholic beverages stand in an isolated room heated by several burning charcoal braziers. The treatise specifies that “when it is hot enough the room is sealed and allowed to cool slowly. After seven days, the room is opened and the jars are removed.”68 Since the Han period the Chinese have typically warmed a serving pot in a hot water bath before pouring and drinking jiu. They also experimented with mulled jiu to improve the flavor and aroma of the drink, but the process of heating and cooling the liquor under managed conditions seems to represent a response to the demand for prolonging the shelf-life of jiu so that it would not spoil during long-distance voyages within China or overseas. The next early reference to the process of crude pasteurization is found in the Strange Stories from I-Chien, a Chinese text written in 1185. It notes the untimely death of a winery attendant who was scalded while steaming jiu. In this case, the steamer consisted of a wooden barrel, and it was large enough to accommodate over ten jars of jiu, which were presumably placed on the grating in the steamer.69 I propose that the production of mercury jars was related to the use of these highly standardized vessels in crude pasteurization, a process developed in China in the twelfth century, when this type of ceramic container first appeared in Southeast Asia and the first settled communities of Chinese seem to have been established in the region. It is tempting to assume that mercury jars were initially used to supply the Chinese communities in Southeast Asia with a potent jiu, the culturally and religiously significant beverage the Chinese may have found obligatory or useful for ritual and social purposes. The small size of these vessels was ideal to cut costs on boiling the liquid contents during the process of pasteurization as less fuel is needed to boil the liquid inside a small vessel than a larger one (including those large jars used as multi-purpose containers in the region since the ninth century). While the impervious glaze on these large jars was ideal for fermenting simple beer, it would be a disadvantage in the process of crude pasteurization as it increases the boiling time. Mercury jars, on the other hand, were mostly unglazed—at least after the twelfth century when they found their way into Southeast Asia—and would therefore allow a quicker boiling of the water. A possible clue that mercury jars were subject to the process of crude pasteurization is the whitish residue around the mouths of a number of jars that has been interpreted as traces of slaked lime stoppers; as indicated above, according to the Bai Shan jiu Jing, after the fire was extinguished, jars were placed in a heap of lime to cool down.70 Furthermore, storing mercury jars on their sides in a dove-tailed pattern would also cut the space used in the steaming vats in the process of crude pasteurization. Again, the amount of firewood or

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charcoal needed to boil the jiu would be decreased due to the special design of the containers. But why did mercury jars cease to be produced in the late fourteenth century after having served as popular export containers for Chinese jiu for four centuries? One possibility is that the demand for Chinese jiu in Southeast Asia dropped as Fujian red wine was replaced by Chinese-style jiu produced locally by Chinese settlers in Southeast Asia, which must have been much cheaper. A second possible scenario is that the local appetite for potent drinks was satisfied by distilled alcohol in the form of arrack produced in maritime Southeast Asia from the middle of the fourteenth century onward.71 To finally settle the issue of the mercury jars’ primary function, we would need chemical evidence based on liquid sediment analysis. Cremin, for one, has noted that these jars represent “a beautiful avenue for research: with constantly improving techniques of residue analysis, it may be possible to determine whether there were imports of specific contents as well as containers.”72

Conclusion This chapter has looked at the so-called mercury jars—crude, mass-produced stoneware jars—made in Fujian in South China between the second half of the eleventh century and the late fourteenth century. I have contextualized the scholarly view that these intriguing jars were used to store and transport Chinese rice beer (jiu), a major product of Fujian, to the markets in Southeast Asia and beyond. I have briefly discussed the method of the production of jiu—a drink that represents a unique contribution of Chinese beverage-makers and has no counterpart in the Western world—and pointed to the differences between locally produced rice beer and imported jiu. I have suggested that the very high alcohol content in Chinese jiu, which reaches between 14.5 and 16 percent in Fujian red wines today (and was as high as that by the tenth century when it was first produced using a similar technology), was the major attraction of imported jiu. I have argued that the specific shape of mercury jars was a design requirement to fulfil a particular need: the jars are especially well suited to work as pasteurization vessels. In my view, it is no coincidence that pasteurized Chinese liquor was first exported to Southeast Asia inside the mercury jars in the first half of the twelfth century, when the actual process of crude pasteurization of alcohol was developed in China. Furthermore, it is reasonable to assume that long-distance trade in Chinese alcohol was boosted by the presence of the first

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settled communities of Chinese in Southeast Asia, which were established in the twelfth century, too. This chapter has analyzed the complex relations between rice beer (rice wine) and Chinese ceramic jars used to ferment, store, transport, and serve this drink in pre-modern Java. We have seen that beer was fermented in ceramic vessels buried in the ground to mature the liquid contents. The finding that pre-modern Javanese had conceptualized the process of alcohol fermentation in terms of pregnancy indicates that people at that time understood the relationships between vessels and their contents in terms of intimacy. In Old Javanese literature we find a number of descriptions of non-ceramic vessels used to store or serve alcohol that seem to have been subject to ritual manipulation and, occasionally, to some kind of object-divination. One such type of alcohol container, called sujaṅ in Old Javanese texts, consisted of a segment of bamboo and was richly decorated, as we gather from Bhomāntaka 4.31. It was used by one specific group of ascetics to beg for palm wine, which formed part of their daily alms. Through the agency of mythical narrative scenes depicted on sujaṅ containers, alcohol inside the vessel was believed to undergo a transformative process that turned liquor inside the vessel to a liquid considered pure enough for consumption by worshippers. In my view, there is a whole unmapped territory of decorative design patterns on vessels holding alcohol—a mind-transforming substance—that artisans in premodern societies used to tap the transformative powers of alcohol consumption. In other words, pre-modern Javanese manipulated the transformative power of alcohol by utilizing particular shapes of vessels and providing them with meaningful decorative patterns. I have only scratched the surface of this complex interplay between the shape of a vessel, its contents, and decorative designs that enhanced consumption. While further research on transformative practices in pre-modern Java, especially the practice of enhancing the properties of vessels, needs to be conducted, this chapter has discussed some major aspects of the intimate relationship between vessels and the mind-altering liquids (in addition to solid substances such as betel nuts) they once contained.

Notes 1

See especially H. T. Huang, Science and Civilization in China. Vol. 6, Biology and Biological Technology; Part V: Fermentations and Food Science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 149, 189–93 for a complex discussion on the subtleties of the rice beer/rice wine controversy.

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  2 Jiří Jákl, Alcohol in Early Java: Its Social and Cultural Significance (Leiden: Brill, 2021), 74–83.   3 For a detailed discussion of the pre-modern production of grain and tuber beers, see P. E. McGovern, Uncorking the Past: The Quest for Wine, Beer, and Other Alcoholic Beverages (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2009).   4 Already in the 1930s, Pigeaud considered Javanese brem to be an archaic word: known as banyu brem (“brem water”), Pigeaud has identified it—rather infelicitously—as “rice brandy.” Th. G. Th. Pigeaud, Javaans-Nederlands Handwoordenboek (Groningen/Batavia: J. B. Wolters, 1938). In modern Islamic Java, brem denotes a starchy, sweet-sour rice extract, which is eaten as a snack. Today, it is as a dialectal word that brem still denotes alcoholic beer, especially in the Osing language of the Banyuwangi district in the easternmost part of Java. Interestingly, among the speakers of Osing, brem has been considered in modern times to be a “typically Balinese” alcoholic drink. Hasan Ali, Kamus Bahasa Daerah Using-Indonesia (Banyuwangi: Pemerintah Kabupaten Banyuwangi, 2002), 44.   5 Th. S. Raffles, The History of Java, 2 vols. 2nd edn. (London: John Murray, 1830) 1, 113.   6 See, for example, G. Groslier, “La Céramique chinoise en Asie du Sud-Est: problèmes de méthodologie,” Archipel 21 (1981): 93–121; R. M. Brown, The Ming and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2009).   7 Harrisson observes that “Probably all examples which survived in Borneo were found there accidentally, in the ground.” Barbara Harrisson, Pusaka: Heirloom Jars of Borneo (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1986), 45.   8 Brown, The Ming and Shipwreck Ceramics, 49.   9 M.-F. Dupoizat and Naniek Harkantiningsih, Catalogue of Chinese Style Ceramics of Majapahit; Tentative Inventory (Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 2007), 67. 10 Dupoizat and Harkantiningsih, Catalogue of Chinese Style Ceramics, 17. 11 Harrisson, Pusaka, fig. 28 depicts a gusi jar dated to the eleventh to twelfth century CE, measuring 78.7 cm high, noting that it is one of the largest known. 12 Harrisson, Pusaka, 44. 13 See contribution by Louise Cort to the present volume. 14 Harrisson, Pusaka, 24. 15 S. O. Robson, “Javanese Etymologies in Cultural-Historical Perspective,” Monash University Linguistic Papers 7, no. 2 (2011): 23–4. 16 Robson, 24. 17 See especially T. G. Hoogervorst, “Detecting Pre-modern Lexical Influence from South India in Maritime Southeast Asia,” Archipel 89 (2015): 63–93.

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18 Harrisson, Pusaka, 44, for one, observes that “The spout is always short and thick, applied at shoulder level and surrounded by two pairs of handles.” 19 Harrisson, Pusaka, 24, 43–4. 20 I am grateful to Pauline Lunsingh Scheurleer for this suggestion (personal communication, September 2017). 21 Lunsingh Scheurleer, personal communication, May 2017. 22 Wahyono Martowikrido, “Catalogue Entries”, in Anonymous, Indonesian Gold: Treasures from the National Museum, Anonymous (Jakarta/Brisbane: Queensland Art Gallery, 1999), 61. ­23 For interpretation of this scene, see A. J. Bernet Kempers, Ageless Borobudur: Buddhist Mystery in Stone; Decay and Restoration, Mendut and Pawon, Folklife in Ancient Java (Wassenaar: Servire, 1976), 253; Martowikrido, “Catalogue Entries,” 60. 24 Jákl, Alcohol in Early Java, 285. 25 For details on the esoteric gaņacakra ritual and its possible representations on the Javanese temple reliefs, see especially Andrea Acri, “Birds, Bards, Buffoons and Brahmans: (Re)Tracing the Indic Roots of some Ancient and Modern Performing Characters from Java and Bali,” Archipel 88 (2014): 32. 26 For a detailed discussion of this relief, see Bernet Kempers, Ageless Borobudur, 253. 27 Hoogervorst, “Detecting Pre-modern Lexical Influence”. 28 The meaning of genuk in modern language differs from that of Old Javanese gənuk. Horne, for one, glosses genuk as a “small clay container for rice.” E. M. Horne, Javanese-English Dictionary (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1974), 204. Also, compare S. O. Robson and Singgih Wibisono, with the assistance of Yacinta Kurniasih, Javanese-English Dictionary (Hongkong/Singapore: Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd., 2002), 245. 29 P. J. Zoetmulder, Old Javanese-English Dictionary. With the Collaboration of S. O. Robson (’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1982), 517. 30 The inscription in question is traditionally denoted Pura Pamrajan Raja Purana, according to the name of the temple where it is kept. For the text (3b. 4–5), see P. V. van Stein Callenfels, “Epigraphia Balica I,” Verhandeelingen van het Koninklijk Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen 66, no. 3 (1926): 66. 31 F. B. Eiseman, Bali: Sekala and Niskala. Volume 2; Essays on Society, Tradition and Craft (Singapore: Periplus Editions, 1990), 172. 32 Bhomāntaka 83.4a and 83.4d. Old Javanese text taken from A. Teeuw and S. O. Robson, Bhomāntaka: The Death of Bhoma (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2005), 460. 33 When not stated otherwise, translations from Old Javanese are mine. 34 For an interesting parallel found in classical Malay poetry where Ma’buong is a nickname for a pregnant woman, see R. J. Wilkinson, A Malay-English Dictionary (Romanized), 2 vols. (Mytilene: Salavopoulos & Kinderlis, 1932), 1, 377.

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35 D. B. Heath, Drinking Occasions: Comparative Perspectives on Alcohol and Culture (Philadelphia, PA: Brunner/Mazel, 2000), 154; J.-C. Sournia, A History of Alcoholism (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 2002). 36 Harrisson, 27. 37 I am grateful to Michael Flecker for this information (email communication, November 2018). 38 For Kota Cina, see Edmund McKinnon, “Kota Cina: Its Context and Meaning in the Trade of Southeast Asia in the Twelfth–Fourteenth Century” (PhD diss., Cornell University, 1984, 294–8; for Fort Canning, see Derek Heng, Sino-Malay Trade and Diplomacy from the Tenth through the Fourteenth Century (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2009); J. N. Miksic, Singapore and the Silk Road of the Sea, 1300–1800 (Singapore: NUS Press, 2013), 310–15; Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “A Case Report on the Function(s) of the ‘Mercury Jar’: Fort Canning, Singapore, in the 14th Century,” Archaeological Research in Asia 7 (2016): 10–17; for Angkor Wat, see F. E. Treloar, “Stoneware Bottles in the Sarawak Museum: Vessels for Mercury Trade?” Sarawak Museum Journal 20 (1972b): 377–84; Groslier, “La Céramique chinoise”; A. Cremin, “Image and Reality: Ceramics on Angkorian Temple Reliefs in Cambodia,” Australian Historical Archaeology 27 (2009), 79–86; for Tuban and Majapahit, see Dupoizat and Harkantiningsih, Catalogue of Chiese Style Ceramics. 39 For the Pescadores, see Ch’ên Hsin-hsiung, Shards of the Sung and Yüan Period Found in the Pescadores Islands (Penghu: Penghu County Cultural Center, 1985). For a comprehensive review of other sites, see especially Wong, “A Case Report,” 12–13. 40 For the Dinghai Bay Shipwreck, see J. B. Zha and C. M. Wu, Shipwreck Archaeology in Dinghai Bay, Lianjing, Fujian (Beijing: Science Publisher, 2011), 239. For the Quanzhou Bay Shipwreck, see Anonymous/Fujian Provincial Quanzhou Maritime History Museum, Excavation and Study in Quanzhou Bay Song Dynasty (Beijing: Haiyang Chubanshe, 1987), 40; Xu Qingquan, “Songchuan chutu de xiaokou taoping niandai he yongtu de tantao” (Analysis of the period and uses of the ‘smallmouthed jars’ excavated from a Song ship), Hai jiao shi yan jiu 5 (1983): 112–14. 41 For the view that mercury jars carried rose water, see H. S. Liu, “Further Studies of Quanzhou Bay Song Ship Sea Route and Direction,” Haijiaoshi yanjiu 1 (1978): 48. For the view that they were used to transport gun powder, see Xu, 114. For the view that the jars carried liquid mercury, see Treloar, “Stoneware Bottles in the Sarawak Museum,” 378–83; J. N. Miksic, Archaeological Research on the “Forbidden Hill” of Singapore: Excavations at Fort Canning, 1984 (Singapore: National Museum of Singapore, 1985), 69; Miksic, Singapore and the Silk Road, 321. For the view that mercury jars were used to carry Chinese alcohol, see C. Zainie (with T. Harrisson), “Early Chinese Stonewares Excavated in Sarawak 1947–67: A Suggested First Basic Classification,” Sarawak Museum Journal 30–1 (1967): 82; Ch’en, Shards of the

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Song, 121–2; Heng, Sino-Malay Trade, 188–9; Wong, “A Case Report,” 15; Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 333–58. 42 Treloar, “Stoneware Bottles,” and F. E. Treloar, “The Use of Mercury in Metal Ritual Objects as a Symbol of Siva,” Artibus Asiae 34, nos. 2–3 (1972a): 232–40. 43 Heng, Sino-Malay Trade, 257, n. 115. 44 I am grateful to Michael Flecker for this information (email communication, October 2018). ­45 Zainie, “Early Chinese Stonewares,” 82; Xu, “Songchuan chutu,” 114. 46 Groslier, “La Céramique chinoise,” 93–121. 47 See the pertinent passage in Wang’s Daoyi Zhilue (Miksic, Singapore and the Silk Road, 178): “They boil sea-water to obtain salt and ferment rice to make spirits called ming-chia.” 48 Old Javanese text taken from Sharada Rani, Wratiśāsana: A Sanskrit Text on Ascetic Discipline with Kawi Exegesis (Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture, 1961), 86. 49 Rani, Wratiśāsana, 8j. 5. 50 Miksic, Singapore and the Silk Road, 321. 51 Heng, Sino-Malay Trade, 188–9. 52 Wong, “A Case Report,” 13. 53 Wong, “A Case Report,” 15. 54 Wong, “A Case Report,” 16–18, also observes that similar containers with small, round mouths, short necks, wide shoulders, and small, flat bases had been widely used by northern nomadic tribes to store and transport koumis, a mildly alcoholic drink based on fermented milk. 55 For the extraction of gold by the use of mercury, see Treloar, “The Use of Mercury”; “Stoneware Bottles.” 56 Miksic, Singapore and the Silk Road; Groslier, “La Céramique chinoise.” 57 Wong, “A Case Report,” 16. 58 Xu, “Songchuan chutu,” 112. 59 Huang, Science and Civilization, 157, 277; McGovern, Uncorking the Past. 60 Huang, Science and Civilization, 189–93. 61 Huang, 277. While in northern China wheat ferment was used commonly to make jiu, in the south, where rice was the main substrate, ripened herbal cakes of rice had always been the microbial agent of choice used to ferment jiu. However, by the eleventh century, if not earlier, wheat flour was utilized also in the south to produce cakes of the ferment, as we gather from the Jiu Jing (“Wine Canon”), a text written by the eminent Song poet Su Dongpo at about 1090 CE (Huang, Science and Civilization, 182).

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62 Huang, 190. 63 Huang, 192. 64 I am grateful to Michael Flecker for this suggestion (email, August 6, 2018). For early Chinese shipping in Southeast Asia, see Michael Flecker, “The Bakau Wreck: An Early Example of Chinese Shipping in Southeast Asia,” The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 30, no. 2 (2001): 221–30. 65 Huang, Science and Civilization, 183. 66 Huang, 187. 67 Huang, 186. ­68 Huang, 188. 69 Huang, 207, n. 19, and page 225. 70 I am grateful to Michael Flecker for the information that residues of lime were found around the mouths of some mercury jars (email, August 6, 2018). Michael Flecker has also kindly informed me that Thai jars were sometimes closed with concave earthenware lids with knob handles. 71 Jákl, Alcohol in Early Java, 109–15. 72 Cremin, “Image and Reality,” 121–2.

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Stein Callenfels, P. V. van. “Epigraphia Balica I.” Verhandeelingen van het Koninklijk Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen 66, no. 3 (1926): 1–70. Teeuw, A. and S. O. Robson. Bhomāntaka: The Death of Bhoma. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2005. Treloar, F. E. “The Use of Mercury in Metal Ritual Objects as a Symbol of Siva.” Artibus Asiae 34, nos. 2–3 (1972a): 232–40. Treloar, F. E. “Stoneware Bottles in the Sarawak Museum: Vessels for Mercury Trade?” Sarawak Museum Journal 20 (1972b): 377–84. Wilkinson, R. J. A Malay-English Dictionary (Romanized). 2 vols. Mytilene: Salavopoulos & Kinderlis, 1932. ­Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “A Case Report on the Function(s) of the ‘Mercury Jar’: Fort Canning, Singapore, in the 14th Century.” Archaeological Research in Asia 7 (2016): 10–17. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 333–58. Xu Qingquan. “Songchuan chutu de xiaokou taoping niandai he yongtu de tantao” (Analysis of the period and uses of the “small-mouthed jars” excavated from a Song ship). Hai jiao shi yan jiu 5 (1983): 112–14. Zainie, C. (with T. Harrisson). “Early Chinese Stonewares Excavated in Sarawak 1947–67: A Suggested First Basic Classification.” Sarawak Museum Journal 30–1 (1967): 30–90. Zha, J. B. and C. M. Wu. Shipwreck Archaeology in Dinghai Bay, Lianjing, Fujian. Beijing: Science Publisher, 2011. Zoetmulder, P. J. Old Javanese-English Dictionary. With the Collaboration of S. O. Robson. ’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1982.

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3

Siamese Jars and their Significance in Southeast Asian Trade from the Fourteenth to the Eighteenth Century Atthasit Sukkham

The appearance of the terms Siam and Ayutthaya Kingdom in historical records produced by Thai, Chinese, and European authors indicates that the kingdom lasted from 1350 to 1767.1 The capital of the kingdom was Ayutthaya (Figure 3.1). Its strategic location in the irrigated fertile Thai heartland on the Chao Phraya River, connected to the Gulf of Thailand, made it one of the most important trade centers in Southeast Asia where explorers, missionaries, ambassadors, and merchants from Southeast Asia, India, Sri Lanka, Persia, China, Japan, and Europe stopped off or settled, establishing connections, and acquiring local products. As the boundaries of the kingdom expanded, many neighboring cities and kingdoms became dependent on or tributaries of Ayutthaya. This enabled Ayutthaya to establish monopolies in trade and tax collection and to become a hub for the sale of local products to domestic and international markets. Ceramics were among the products that were exchanged within Southeast Asia, especially in Ayutthaya itself and in the vicinity of the kingdom. Unglazed earthenware and glazed stoneware vessels with various styles of decoration became part of a wide range of Ayutthaya Kingdom ceramics, produced at the kilns at Bang Pun in the province of Suphanburi in contemporary Thailand, at Si Satchanalai and Sukhothai in the contemporary province of Sukhothai, and at Bang Rachan in what is now Singburi. Many of the ceramics available at the time had been influenced by thirteenth-century Khmer wares or had come to Thailand from

This paper is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Roxanna M. Brown (1946–2008), the founding director of the Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University, who contributed many publications on trade ceramics in Southeast Asia.

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­ igure 3.1  Map showing the locations of key shipwreck, kiln, and cultural sites F throughout Southeast Asia. Adapted from Brown, The Ming Gap. Copyright: Atthasit Sukkham.

fourteenth- and fifteenth-century China and fifteenth-century Vietnam. This chapter exclusively focuses on jars produced at the Bang Pun, Si Satchanalai, and Bang Rachan Kilns. It thereby excludes the Sukhothai Kilns, which produced local wares of several types but no jars, and also does not touch upon ceramics from Lanna and other Southeast Asian jar production centers (for example, in the Khmer/Angkor Empire, Dai Viet, Champa, and Burma). Its focus lies on ceramics from Ayutthaya, or Siam as early modern Europeans would have called it.2 As archaeological reports on excavations and underwater findings inform

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us, such Siamese jars (called Hai3 in Thai) have been found in Buddhist temples and in the wrecks of Chinese, Southeast Asian, and European merchant ships. As this chapter will illustrate, the contents of some of these jars, remnants of which have survived until today, suggest their manifold roles in Southeast Asian economies and societies from the fourteenth to the eighteenth century: they not only circulated within East Asian and Southeast Asian trade networks, where they could function as containers of smaller ceramic objects, preserved food, and drinking water, but also served as vessels for sacred water during rituals, and as urns. Having been influenced by jars produced in China and Southeast Asia in terms of their material, design, and decoration, Siamese ceramics have often been confused with non-Siamese artifacts (Figure 3.2/Plate 2, Figure 3.3/ Plate 3, Figure 3.4/Plate 4). This chapter aims to assist curators and scholars with the identification and classification of Siamese jars according to their origins by providing new information about their specific production contexts and to enhance the understanding and contextualization of extant artifacts by an examination of their varied uses. It focuses on three different types of jars that formed part of local systems of use as well as maritime exchange with foreign traders.

Ayutthaya Jars in an Asian Context The Kingdom of Ayutthaya was ruled by a royal court based at the city of Ayutthaya led by absolute monarchs with semi-sacred status legitimized by Hindu and Buddhist ideological frameworks. Founded in 1350 by King Ramathibodi I (1350–69), thirty-three kings successively ruled the kingdom that lasted for over four hundred years, interrupted periodically by conflicts with Lanna and Burma (contemporary Myanmar). Ayutthaya’s territory expanded over the years; the monarchy held a trade and tax collection monopoly in the region and was responsible for controlling agricultural commodities, forestry supplies, and mines. The reforms under the kingdom’s ninth ruler, King Borommatrilokanath (1448–88),4 established a tributary system based on areas of influence (arranged in Mandala-style from center to periphery) and developed new government organizations for all cities in the northern, northeastern, central, western, and southern territories. The cities were classified into four categories: inner cities, outer or chief cities (Phraya Maha Nakhon), tributary city-states, and independent city-states.5

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The kingdom shared borders with Lanna in the north (1292–1775/6, contemporary northern Thailand), Lan Xang in the Northeast (1354–1707, contemporary Laos and a part of upper northeastern Thailand), Khmer in the Southeast (802–1463, contemporary Cambodia and parts of lower northeastern Thailand), Majapahit in the south (1293–1500 (?), contemporary Indonesia and Malaysia), and Burma in the west (1510–1752, contemporary Myanmar) (Figure 3.1/Plate 1). As evidenced by archaeological discoveries and historical records, Ayutthaya was a transcultural place where people from a variety of origins established communities, markets, trade stations, and religious spaces, and where mercenary troops were recruited. Chinese, Arab, and possibly Makassar people from Indonesia were the first to arrive and apparently had the right to live in the capital (although we do not have exact dates for their first trading and settling activities). The Japanese arrived around the year 1563. Among the Europeans, the Portuguese were the first to reach Ayutthaya in 1511, followed by the arrival of the Spanish by 1583, the Dutch around the year 1605, the British in 1612, and the French in 1683.6 The kings of Ayutthaya granted some foreign nationalities permission to settle in villages along the Chao Phraya River in the south of the city that contained trade stations or religious places and to set up trade stations in dependent cities (especially in the southern territory on the Malay Peninsula, for example, in Thalang (now Phuket), Songkhla, and Pattani).7 Due to the hegemonic systems of control established by Ayutthaya and its trade and tax collection monopolies, the supply of ceramic wares in the region was controlled through the kingdom. Ceramic production centers situated in diverse parts of contemporary Thailand, in the provinces of Suphanburi, Sukhotai, Singburi, and Ayutthaya, satisfied the demand of Ayutthaya and its dependent cities. Unfortunately, none of the Ayutthaya historical records refer to the potters, their management, or the official organization of the four kiln sites. Based on the results of archaeological excavations, the locations of all four kiln sites were outside the city walls, which suggests that the potters were ordinary people from villages under the control of Ayutthaya’s dependent cities. The wares from the first four kiln sites found in the capital were sometimes also found in dependent cities (especially in contemporary southern and central Thailand) and supplied to maritime trade. It is possible that Ayutthaya functioned as a mediating space between local production sites and the global trade networks that reached into the city. But trade was not limited to the export of local wares on Chinese and Southeast Asian junks as Ayutthaya also imported ceramics

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from outside the kingdom. Chinese and Vietnamese ceramics were in popular use at the royal court and the mansions of governors and other members of the elite. Some were sold on local markets in the capital and the dependent cities of the southern and central territories. Additionally, Chinese and Vietnamese ceramics were found in the hinterland regions of the Lanna and the Lan Xang Kingdoms where they arrived via the coast of the Gulf of Siam and overland or river routes. In contrast to wares from Ayutthaya, Burmese ceramics seem to have been produced primarily for domestic use and were exported via maritime trade routes only for a very short time. Chinese attempts to explore the globe and expand their mercantile networks saw a first wave of maritime communication between China and Southeast Asia during the Tang Dynasty (618–907), the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms (907–60), and the Song Dynasty (960–1279). During these eras trade was unofficial and only twelfth- and thirteenth-century wares from the Khmer Kingdom (802–1463) show traces of the influence of Southern Song Dynasty (1127–1279) ceramics on their ceramic production techniques.8 During a second wave of maritime communication between China and Southeast Asia during the Yuan Dynasty (1280–1368), the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644), and the first half of the Qing Dynasty (1644–1911), the Chinese empire established official relations with each Southeast Asian kingdom, which led to an increase in the exchange of ceramics and other commodities under the tributary trade system. The influx of large quantities of Chinese ceramic wares transformed Southeast Asian production technology and enabled local production of glazed ceramics, many of which displayed Chinese influence in terms of object design and decoration. Furthermore, Chinese kiln structures and the use of supports during firing to enable mass production informed Southeast Asian ceramic production technology.9 Product designs had been influenced by the influx of Chinese wares from the twelfth century onward not only in the kilns at Ayutthaya but in nearly all mainland Southeast Asian kingdoms including Dai Viet (1054– 1400, 1428–1804), Champa (875–1832), Sukhothai (1238–1438), Lanna (1292–1775/6), and Burma (849–1886). Chinese ceramics had reached these places through trade across the East China and South China Seas, but also by inner-Southeast Asian exchanges.10 Most of the shipwrecks discovered so far that sank in the South China Sea between the twelfth and the sixteenth century have been identified as Chinese junks. In addition, there were Southeast Asian South China Sea junks that had been made by Southeast

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Asian craftsmen after Chinese models or were hybrids with a Chinese core, repaired and altered by local shipbuilders along the way. Alongside traces of many kinds of organic and non-organic products for coastal trade, only a few of which have survived until today, Chinese, Vietnamese, Siamese, and Burmese ceramics were found in the shipwrecks around the South China Sea.11 Meanwhile, in addition to the Chinese, by the sixteenth century, Europeans and Japanese had also arrived in Southeast Asia and East Asia, where they became increasingly involved in the ceramics trade. The Spanish galleon, the San Diego, sank in 1600 near the coast of the Philippines, the Wanli Shipwreck has been identified as a Portuguese flagship that sank during the sixteenth to seventeenth century near the coast of Malaysia, and the Risdam Shipwreck has been identified as a Dutch East India Company or Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC) vessel.12 Ceramic objects and fragments have been found in Southeast Asian temples, (port) cities, shipwrecks, and even kilns that date to the period between the fourteenth and the eighteenth centuries.13 They include wares from the Yuan and Ming Dynasties and the first half of the Qing from Chinese kilns at Jingdezhen, Zhangzhou, Longquan, Cizhou, Jizhou, Yixing, Changtai, Dehua, Deqing, and Shiwan. Among the finds are ceramics from kilns in the Kingdom of Dai Viet (for example at Chu Dau and Bat Trang), kilns in the Champa Kingdom (such as those at Binh Dinh and Go Sanh), production sites of the Lanna Kingdom (in Phayao, Phan, Wang Nua, San Sai, San Kamphaeng, Wiang Bua, and Boh Suak), and Burmese ceramic centers including those in the cities of Twante, Kaw Don, and Martaban (contemporary Mottama). A large number of wares have survived from Ayutthaya during this period and include products made at Bang Pun, Bang Rachan, Sukhothai, and Si Satchanalai. Many of the glazed and unglazed Southeast Asian ceramics feature designs with Chinese, Khmer, or Vietnamese influences.14 Among them, jars are a category of objects that almost all of the kilns mentioned produced during the period in question. Especially productive in this regard were the kilns in China and those at Chu Dao, Go Sahn, Martaban, Lanna, Bang Pun, Si Satchanalai, and Bang Rachan where Chinese influence affected the production of glazed jars. They were commonly formed by the coiling technique, decorated by incising various designs or by applying external clay decorations and lugs (ears) on the shoulders of the vessels. The last steps in the production process were painting and glazing although some jars remained unglazed. A brown monochrome glaze characterizes the products of almost all the kilns. The fact that all the jars feature drops of glaze that have dripped down

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to their bases indicates that the glaze was poured onto the vessels’ upper bodies. Blue-and-white, black-and-white, two-color,15 and green (celadon) glazes appeared on some jars, the main examples of which include Chu Dao  blueand-white jars as well as Lanna jars with green, black-and-white, or two-color glazes. They were all widely traded except for Lanna jars, which were made for domestic use only. Vietnamese jars were also widely distributed, while some other Southeast Asian kilns, not included in the scope of this chapter, did not produce jars at all, but focused on other vessel types16 (Figure 3.1/Plate 1; Table  3.1). Ceramics from the Ayutthaya Kingdom, especially jars, have been found in nearly all the shipwrecks excavated in the South China Sea that date from the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, a period of intensive Southeast Asian trade with the Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans. By the late eighteenth century, after the end of the kingdom, Thonbori (1767–82) and later Bangkok (1782 to the present) emerged as new trade centers, to which some of Ayutthaya’s trade partners transferred their activities.17 Kilns in parts of contemporary Thailand and other regions throughout Southeast Asia were increasingly affected by wars, economic crises, and European colonial regimes; some of the kilns terminated their production as Burmese, British, and French troops ordered the abandonment or destruction of cities, central and regional administrations were reorganized and populations evacuated to escape conflict.18 As underwater archaeology has shown, only brown-glazed Bang Rachan jars were to be found on seventeenth- and eighteenth-century European merchant shipwrecks; other types of Southeast Asian ceramics have not been found on wrecks dated later than the late sixteenth century.19 In archaeological sites dated to the period between the late eighteenth and the early nineteenth centuries, Southeast Asian ceramics do not appear at all, while different kinds of Chinese, Japanese, and European wares do (Table 3.1).20 Most of the Bang Rachan jars remained within port and hinterland cities around Southeast Asia, but some have been found as far away as Japan, Australia, and Europe.21 As Chinese and Southeast Asian wares resemble each other and were often found alongside one another in temple and palace buildings,  and excavation sites including shipwrecks, archaeologists, art historians, and  curators have often failed to distinguish their respective production sites. In what follows, I provide a brief history of the Ayutthaya jars manufactured in Bang Pun, Si Satchanalai, and Bang Rachan, which all played an important role in long-distance maritime trade from the fourteenth to the eighteenth century.

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­Jars from the Kilns at Bang Pun The Bang Pun Kilns are located on the riverbank of the Suphanburi River, also called Tha Chin, in the central Thai province of Suphanburi (Figure 3.1/Plate 1). Here, around ten kilns have been found almost intact. They belonged to the city of Suphanburi, which is located in the northern part of what comprises the city today. Ceramic production started during the thirteenth century or earlier;22 this suggests that the kilns were operating before the Ayutthaya Kingdom was founded. Around the late fourteenth century, Ayutthaya listed the city of Suphanburi as an inner city of primary rank within the kingdom.23 The kilns at Bang Pun are clay-built cross-draft kilns 6 meters long and 2 meters wide. They each comprise a fire box with a straight firewall, a firing chamber with a domed roof and sloping floor, and a rectangular chimney. Excavations show many layers of kiln structures built upon each other, testifying to sustained use over a long period of time.24 The main products of the Bang Pun Kilns were unglazed earthenware bowls, basins, bottles, and jars with impressed and incised designs. They were made from refractory clay able to withstand temperatures between 700 and 1,100 degrees Celsius. The jars produced here were unglazed and in a gray or brownish color; their form is characterized by a body that is wide at the top but becomes narrow at the bottom, has thin walls and in some cases a curved lower part that narrows down to a flat base. They feature four lugs made of clay, stamped designs on their shoulders, a wide neck, an everted mouth, and incisions around that mouth. Some of the jars display complex decorations: recurrent motifs include stamped leaves from the Bodhi tree, triangular panels that contain images of the Hindu deity Theppanom, a man on horseback with a knife, as well as the figure of a man who leads cattle or an elephant to plow a field (a reference to the Royal Plowing Ceremony, an ancient royal rite held in many East and Southeast Asian countries to mark the beginning of the rice growing season). The religious iconography of leaves from the Bodhi tree relates to the history of the Buddha attaining enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, also known as the sacred fig (Ficus religiosa), at Bodh Gaya, Bihar, India.25 Literary sources relating to the plowing ceremony suggest that it derives from an episode in the Ramayana (one of two major Sanskrit epics of ancient India) in which Sita appears from the plowed earth as a baby while Janaka, the king of Videha, plows the field.26 These iconographies refer to the religious terms and beliefs, and the art and architecture of Brahmanism, Theravada (Hinayana) Buddhism, Mahayana Buddhism, and Hinduism that appeared in mainland and

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insular Southeast Asia under Indian influence, which was unequally distributed but especially important in the region before the establishment of the Khmer Kingdom in the fifth century.27 The shapes and decorations of the Bang Pun jars reveal some influence by Khmer ceramics from the twelfth and thirteenth century, which had in turn been influenced by earlier Chinese ceramics from the Song Dynasty (960–1279) in terms of design as well as glazing and firing technologies.28 Decorations on the Bang Pun jars’ shoulders contain Bodhi tree leaves, images of deities, and even representations of garments and animals as part of the plowing ceremony motif. They, on the one hand, resemble incised and externally applied images found on Khmer jarlets made in the shape of elephants and, on the other, are similar to engraved garment designs that can be seen on sculptures of human figures and animal figurines used to decorate the Prasat (castle/temple/palace) during the Angkor period (ca. 877–1243).29 These motifs were made under Khmer influence (rather than that of ancient India) in the areas around the Bang Pun Kilns and even in the provinces of Lopburi and Sukhothai.30 In contrast to the Khmer wares, which cover a range of vessel types such as jarlets, covered boxes, bowls, and jars that are characterized by brown ash-glazed surfaces, the Bang Pun jars remained unglazed. Bang Pun jars were distributed to Ayutthaya and the kingdom’s dependent cities predominantly in the central territory, to places such as Kamphaeng Phet, Sukhothai, Ratchburi, or Sanburi (Prak).31 They were also supplied to maritime trade routes, as wrecks of Chinese and Southeast Asian (South China Sea) junks32 known under the names of (Ko)33 Rang Kwien,34 (Ko) Si Chang II,35 Maranei, or Bakau,36 Phu Quoc or Dam Island,37 (Ko) Khram,38 and Longquan39 have shown (Figure 3.1/Plate 1; Table 3.1). Each shipwreck contains a small number of Bang Pun jars, most of which are decorated with either elephant or Bodhi leaf designs, while other types of decoration can only be identified on jars found at the city of Suphanburi and its kiln sites. Only rarely have Bang Pun jars been found in coastal port cities such as Kota Batu in contemporary Brunei on the island of Borneo.40 This evidence suggests that jars from Bang Pun formed part of maritime exchanges from the late fourteenth to the mid-fifteenth century, but (because of their low number) not predominantly as trading goods. Probably the jars’ use was related to religious practices inland and on board (as their decorations were religiously inspired and possibly contained sacred water). They might have been the personal belongings of sailors or served as gifts to be used in the establishment of mercantile relationships or offered at religious sites along the way.

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Figure 3.2  Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Phnom Dangrek (Bang Kruat or Buriram), H. 44 cm [left], unglazed jars from Bang Pun, H. 38.1 cm [center], and Early Si Satchanalai, H. 40.7 cm [right]. Copyright: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University.

Jars from the Si Satchanalai Kilns Ceramics from the Si Satchanalai Kilns reveal some influence from glazed Chinese wares of the Yuan (1280–1368) and Ming (1368–1644) Dynasties; some of them were reserved for domestic purposes while others were available throughout Southeast Asia by maritime trade. Chinese wares had an impact on ceramic production at kilns in what is now contemporary northern and central Vietnam (Dai Viet and Champa), Myanmar (Burma), Si Satchanalai, Sukhothai, Phayao, Phan, Wang Nua, San Sai, San Kamphaeng, Wiang Bua, and Boh Suak during the periods of the Sukhothai (1238–1438) and Lanna (1292–1775/6) Kingdoms. During the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the Kingdoms of Lanna and Sukhothai maintained good relations with Ayutthaya, but in the fifteenth century Lanna engaged in battles over frontier regions with Ayutthaya and Sukhothai was conquered by Ayutthaya. Si Satchanalai, where the kilns were situated, was initially a dependent city of the Sukhothai Kingdom but seized by Lanna in the second half of the fifteenth century before becoming part of the Ayutthaya Kingdom in 1474.41

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Historical records that offer information on the early years of the kilns are scarce. As art historical research and the study of shipwrecks indicate, the first wave of ceramics made as a result of the impact of Chinese wares (and possibly in relation to Southeast Asian networks of technological exchange) began at the Si Satchanalai Kilns of the Sukhothai Kingdom, the Phayao Kilns of the Lanna kingdom, the Chu Dau Kilns of the Dai Viet Kingdom, and the Binh Dinh and Go Sanh Kilns of the Champa Kingdom42 (Figure  3.1/ Plate 1). As archaeological research of the kiln sites and shipwrecks reveals, among the two kilns in the Kingdom of Sukhothai, the one at Si Satchanalai began production slightly earlier than that at Sukhothai, which started between 1340 and 1400.43 The Si Satchanalai wares were more complex in terms of material and design than the underglaze black-and-white and white monochrome-glazed ceramics of the Sukhotai Kilns; only the Si Satchanalai Kilns produced jars. The Si Satchanalai Kilns are situated in the vicinity of the Yom River on the northern side of the city of Si Satchanalai, divided between the villages of Ko Noi and Pa Yang. The approximately five hundred kilns include updraft as well as cross-draft kilns,44 whose production period has been dated from the late fourteenth to the mid-sixteenth century. Updraft kiln products include unglazed earthenware jars and spouted containers (kendi) without handles while those fired in cross-draft kilns include glazed stoneware jarlets and (covered) jars, dishes and stem dishes, covered boxes and lime pots, bowls and bottles, vases and spittoons, water droppers, mortars, lamps, lanterns, and figurines as well as architectural ornaments and even unglazed stoneware jars that were fired at a high temperature of between about 1,100 and 1,300 degrees Celsius. Some of the wares are unglazed or coated with a slurry of white clay and water and beautified by incised, engraved, or applied decorations, while others are covered in underglaze black-and-white, two-color, monochrome white, brown, or green (celadon) glazes.45 Within the Si Satchanalai production site, the characteristics of glaze and design differed between the kilns situated at Ko Noi and Pa Yang. As excavations and stylistic analysis reveal, the early and middle period wares (from the fourteenth and fifteenth century) were produced at the Ko Noi Kilns, first operated under the Sukhothai Kingdom (1238–1438) and later incorporated into the Ayutthaya Kingdom. These first kilns were subterranean updraft kilns with an overall diameter of around 4 meters alongside crossdraft kilns above ground (measuring from 3 to 5 meters long and 2 to 3 meters wide). The cylindrical updraft kilns each comprised a fire box below a firing

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chamber separated by a holed divider that allowed heat to ascend, and a flue opening at the top; the cross-draft kilns above ground were built with bricks and occasionally repaired with tubular supports that enabled continuous mass production (while disk-shaped supports for ceramics during firing exclusively appear at the Sukhothai site). By the middle of the Si Satchalai period, kilns with a length of 8 meters and a width of 4 meters had been developed. Except for their unusual cylindrical chimneys, these kilns resemble those at Bang Pun, Lanna, and Bang Rachan, which all consist of a fire box (with a straight firewall) and a firing chamber with a curved roof and sloping floor.46 The late Si Satchanalai wares of the sixteenth century were made at Pa Yang, which also had brick-built kilns. Notable innovations such as the two-color glaze technique, special figurine shapes, and architectural ornaments emerged during this later period at the Pa Yang site, but during the early and middle period Si Satchanalai jars like those illustrated in Figures 3.2, 3.3, and 3.4 (Plates 2–4) were produced exclusively at the Ko Noi Kilns.47 Early examples of Si Satchanalai jars are made of unglazed stoneware (Figure  3.2/Plate 2). Their thin-walled bodies are wide at the top, narrowing toward the bottom with a flat base; they feature a wide neck with an everted mouth, four tiny lugs made of clay, Bodhi leaf designs applied on the shoulders, and, in some cases, curved lines incised all over the surface. The colors of the fired clay include dark brown, blackish brown, and brownish gray. Archaeologists have found such jars covered with plates and bowls, many of them made in China, close to the fundaments of great stupa (relic-containing architectural structures) in Buddhist temples throughout the Sukhothai Kingdom, for example, in the cities of Sukhothai and Bang Khlang.48 As large numbers of jars have been found in each temple, it seems likely that they were used in rituals executed during second burials after the cremation of the deceased, yet neither human remains nor ash were found in the temples. The jar finds in temples, for example, those in the Phra Phai Luang temple in the province of Sukhothai where jars were excavated close to the fundament of its great stupa, which is influenced by the Bayon style (1177–1237) of the Prasat, allow for a dating of the jars to the fourteenth century.49 Jars from the middle period of Si Satchanalai production, such as the ones illustrated (Figure 3.3/Plate 3 and Figure 3.4/Plate 4), feature thin-walled bodies made of grayish-brown and reddish-brown clay; the jars’ upper parts are covered in a black-brownish glaze; they are wide at the top and narrow toward the bottom, they each have four lugs made of added clay, a wide neck and an everted mouth. Between mouth and shoulders these jars’ surfaces are horizontally incised

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Figure 3.3  Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai, H. 43.3 cm [left], Bang Rachan, H. 59 cm [center], and Martaban, H. 40.4 cm [right]. Copyright: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University.

with straight lines.50 These jars were more widely distributed than the earlier Si Satchanalai vessels. Si Satchanalai ceramics of the middle period have been found at the (Ko) Rang Kwien, Maranei or Bakau, and Nanyang Shipwrecks.51 At the Cardamom Mountain burial site in Cambodia that dates to the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries,52 jars associated with the above-mentioned sixteenthcentury Si Satchanalai containers were found covered by dishes and bowls and had presumably been used for food offerings at temples. It is assumed that the vessels found in Cambodia are a mix of those made at Bang Rachan (Maenam Noi or Singburi) and those from middle period Si Satchanalai, all potentially used during burial rituals (Figure  3.1/Plate 1; Table  3.1). As their shapes and glazes are so similar to each other, in the past Si Satchanalai and Bang Rachan jars (Figure 3.3/Plate 3, Figure 3.4/Plate 4) have often been confused with each other by archaeologists. As a consequence, the exact numbers of each vessel type at the Cardamom Mountain excavation site remains uncertain. The dating of the mentioned shipwrecks and the burial sites suggests that middle period Si Satchanalai jars were produced and supplied to maritime trade routes from the late fourteenth to fifteenth century.

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Jars from the Bang Rachan Kilns The Bang Rachan Kilns, which are also called Maenam Noi Kilns after the River Noi, are located near the Noi River in the district of Bang Rachan in the province of Singburi in central Thailand (Figure 3.1/Plate 1). Historical records of the early Ayutthaya period (ca. 1350–1488) show that the kingdom’s third ruler, King Boromarachathirat I (1370–88), led troops to conquer the Sukhothai territory.53 His military campaign included the areas around the Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai Kilns, from which he had all civilians evacuated, possibly to get hold of the local potters whom he relocated to Ayutthaya territory near the city of Prak (in the contemporary San Buri district in the province of Chainat). In 1419 the seventh king of Ayutthaya, King Nakharindrathirat (1409–24), sent troops northward to areas ruled by the Sukhothai and Lanna Kingdoms, but could only conquer the Sukhothai territory.54 Upon his arrival, the inhabitants of Prabang city and their governors came out to pay their respects. The king appointed Chao Samphraya55 to rule the city of Chainat, Chao Ai to rule the city of Suphanburi, and Chao Yi (prince) to rule the city of Prak. Sayan Praichanjit and Jaruk Wilaikaew believe that the Bang Rachan kilns were fully constructed and staffed between the reign of King Boromarachathirat I and the era of King Nakharindrathirat, an accomplishment made possible by transferring all civilians and potters and their understanding of ceramic technologies from Si Satchanalai.56 The Bang Rachan production site featured improved versions of the Si Satchanalai kiln structures and further developed ceramics’ production and glaze decoration technologies. The brick-built kilns of Bang Rachan were larger than all previous ones (including those at Si Satchanalai) and positioned in the shape of a wide arch. Out of all the kilns, only six have been excavated. Some of them were constructed on top of two or three older ones, testimony to the site’s continuous use and repair, while all show signs of collapse and severe damage, in particular at their curved roofs. The kilns were between 14 and 16 meters long and about 5 to 5.60 meters wide with a wall in front of their fire box openings; they had fire boxes with straight firewalls, firing chambers with curved roofs and sloping floors and cylindrical chimneys. The capacity of each kiln could comfortably contain around 500 jars or 800 to 1,000 mortars and pots per firing. Fragments of jar bases were used as supports for individual pieces to enable mass production. This kiln structure suggests the mass production of ceramics using efficient, fast high-technology rather than the more labor-intensive production of pieces with high aesthetic or material qualities.

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At the Bang Rachan Kilns, unglazed or brown-glazed stoneware items were fired, many of them formed in the shapes of jars (Figure 3.3/Plate 3, Figure 3.4/ Plate 4), but also others, such as vases, bottles, mortars, basins, kendi, and representations of makara, a crocodile-like or alternatively fish-tailed and dragon-headed creature from the Hindu pantheon used as part of staircases and other architectural elements. Bang Rachan jars are characterized by a yellowbrownish glaze that covers the reddish-brown or dark brown clay surface of twothirds of the jars’ bodies from the top downward. The vessels are wide at the top and become narrower at the bottom, although some especially tall jars feature cylindrical shapes with straight walls or oval shapes with curved walls. The jars’ walls are significantly thicker and heavier than those of the Si Satchanalai jars.57 The vessels each feature horizontal incisions of straight lines on the shoulders, a wide neck, an everted mouth, and four clay-made lugs. Jars from Bang Rachan have been found at the previously mentioned Cardamom Mountain burial site in contemporary Cambodia where they might have served as urns, but they have also been excavated at the kilns themselves, in shipwrecks, and at temples in harbor towns as well as inland cities. Only vessels found on shipwrecks provide us with clear evidence of their use. On the open sea,

Figure 3.4  Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai, H. 62.5 cm [left] and Bang Rachan, H. 64.5 cm [right]. Copyright: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University.

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jars served as containers not only of other smaller ceramics, but also of foodstuffs needed for life on board as well as materials for boat repair. This can, for example, be deduced from the findings at the Royal Nanhai Shipwreck that include a jar filled with fish bones,58 those at (Ko) Si Chang III that feature jars filled with ducks’ eggs and dammar,59 and the many Vietnamese blue-and-white jarlets contained in a jar found in a vessel that sank at Hoi An.60 In addition, the stern of the fifteenthcentury (Ko) Khram Shipwreck, where the original position of the ceramics on board is preserved, reveals that a number of Bang Rachan jars had been arranged in rows on the cargo deck, while shards of ceramics of other types were found scattered around them. The transportation of Bang Rachan jars separate from other kinds of finer ceramics further illustrates that they did not belong to the category of high-end decorated jars. The thickness of their walls and the heavy weight of their bodies made them useful and strong containers of liquids and other contents and were the main reasons for their mass production and exchange. Bang Rachan jars recovered from other shipwrecks can be divided into groups from wrecks in three different periods. The first group is from the shipwrecks of Khram (Figure  3.6), Nanyang, and the Royal Nanhai in the second half of the fifteenth century. The second group is from the shipwrecks of (Ko) Samui,61 (Ko) Kra,62 Hoi An, (Ko) Si Chang III, Klang Aow,63 Brunei,64 and Lena Shoal dating from the late fifteenth to the first half of the sixteenth century.65 The third group is from late sixteenth-century wrecks including the Kradat66 and Singtai67 (Figure 3.1/Plate 1; Table 3.1). Other Bang Rachan jars have been found on sixteenth-century Japanese junks at underwater sites near Japan’s Ojikajima and Kyushu Islands.68 Even seventeenth- and eighteenth-century European vessels transported Bang Rachan jars, as evidenced by European shipwrecks found in the Indian and South Atlantic Oceans69 and in the South China Sea,70 for example the San Diego Shipwreck, a Spanish Manila galleon or warship that sank in 1600 in the Philippines near Luzon Island, the Wanli Shipwreck that has been identified as a Portuguese flagged ship that sank during the seventeenth century in Malaysia near Tenggol Island, and the wreck of the Risdam owned by the Dutch East India Company, which sank near the coast of Mersing, Malaysia, in 1727. Other Bang Rachan jars were also found in port cities as far as away as Hong Kong, Australia, Mozambique, and Amsterdam, probably as a result of European maritime trade71 that is usually associated with the transport of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Chinese blue-and-white wares from the Jiajing, Longqing, and Wanli periods. This evidence shows that Bang Rachan wares formed part of long-distance maritime trade networks on board Southeast Asian, Chinese, and Japanese junks as well as Dutch, Portuguese, and Spanish Manila vessels, all of which belonged to nations that had trade posts at Ayutthaya

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from the mid-fifteenth to the eighteenth century. This period corresponds with ceramic production at Bang Rachan that was defined by the invasion of the Ayutthaya Kingdom by Burmese troops, which began in 1548 and ended with the kingdom’s capitulation in 1767.72 Before arriving at the city of Ayutthaya, the army probably passed through Bang Rachan, north of the royal capital, a situation which meant the end of ceramic production and mercantile exchange. Table 3.1 provides a chronological overview of the distribution of jars on the Southeast Asian market based on the complete excavation and recovery of all artifacts from twenty-four shipwrecks. It lists between seventy and eighty wrecks of ships that sank in Southeast Asia (including Vietnamese, Filipino, Cambodian, Thai, Malaysian, and Indonesian waters) between the fourteenth and the eighteenth century discovered by international underwater archaeologists. (The list excludes recent finds where excavation results are not yet fully published.) Based on the extant outer and lower structures of vessels, archaeologists have concluded that the wrecks are of merchant junks built by Chinese or Southeast Asian/South China Sea shipbuilders, while the origins of the goods and the nationalities of the people onboard remain unspecified or unknown. Most of the merchant junks with cargoes of ceramics sailed around the South China Sea departing from and heading to areas that include contemporary Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Brunei, and the Philippines. The locations of the shipwrecks indicate that the junks would sail along the coasts and stop at a number of ports to acquire ceramics of different kinds as well as local commodities such as ivory tusks, betel nuts and copper ingots, agricultural commodities and forestry products, as mentioned in purchase orders of the Dutch East India Company as well as Chinese and Japanese junks, but many of these items have not survived.74 Yet, the evidence from the wrecks suggests that Chinese and Southeast Asian merchant junks did not carry Southeast Asian ceramics back to the South China and East China Seas. An exception is illustrated by a group of sixteenth-century Bang Rachan jars found in the region of contemporary Hong Kong;75 it is possible that these jars formed part of a delivery destined for onward transportation to Europe alongside fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Chinese Jiajing, Longqing, and Wanli blue-and-white wares. Bang Rachan brown-glazed jars have often been confused with Martaban jars produced in contemporary Myanmar (Burma), which were both found in the wreck of a ship, intended for export to the Netherlands and other European places.76 The vessels have similar brown glazes on the upper parts of their bodies, but their shapes and the decorations on their shoulders are different (Figure  3.3/Plate 3). Future studies may identify what some of these jars contained and their commercial value, empty or full.

Table 3.1  Chronology of maritime ceramic trade of Chinese and Southeast Asian junks in the South China Sea during the trade boom between the late fourteenth and the late sixteenth centuries.73 1368–1400

1400–1424/30

1424/30–87

1488–1505

1505–20

1520–73

Rang Kwien** Song Doc

Turiang Si Chang II** Maranei (or Bakau)**

Phu Quoc** Nanyang** Khram** Longquan** Royal Nanhai** Pandanan

Belanakan Brunei** Lena Shoal** Santa Cruz

Hoi An** Klang Aow (or Australia Tide)** Samui** Kra** Si Chang III** Española

Singtai** Xuande Kradat**

San Kampaeng (?) Bang Pun*  Bang Rachan (Maenam Noi or Singburi)* Sukhothai

Sukhothai Gap (?)

Si Satchanalai (Ko Noi)*

Si Satchanalai (Pa Yang) Burmese (Kaw Don, Martaban, and Twente) Vietnamese (Binh Dinh, former Champa)*

Vietnamese (Hai Duong, former Dai Viet)* Ming Gap (?)

Vietnamese Gap (?)

Vietnamese (Hai Duong, former Dai Viet)* Ming Dynasty*

Remarks: * Kilns that produced jars for long-distance maritime trade. ** Shipwrecks where Bang Pun, Bang Rachan, or Si Satchanalai wares mentioned in this paper were found.

Sukhothai

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Notes 1

The Chinese annals of the emperors of the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644), the Veritable Records of the Ming Dynasty (Ming Shi-lu 明實錄), record the fourteenth-century use of the following terms: xian for the territories of the Ayutthaya and Sukhothai Kingdoms, which probably refers to Sukhothai, the capital of the Sukhothai Kingdom, luo-hu believed to be Lavo (the old Thai name for what is now Lopburi), an important city before the foundation of the Ayutthaya Kingdom, and xian-luo or xian-luo-hu (暹羅斛), a word created by merging the two terms. G. Wade, trans. and ed., Southeast Asia in the Ming Shi-lu: An Open Access Resource (Singapore: National University of Singapore, n.d.), http://epress. nus.edu.sg/msl/. The royal chronicles of Ayutthaya, on the other hand, especially in their Luang Prasoet edition, mention that some of the Sukhothai Kingdom’s dependent cities were conquered by Ayutthaya from the fourteenth century and that the Sukhothai Kingdom was officially merged with the Ayutthaya Kingdom in the fifteenth century during a period of the kingdom’s expansion into northeastern, eastern, and southern Thailand, which also included parts of contemporary Laos, Cambodia, Burma, and Malaysia. R. D. Cushman, trans. and D. K. Wyatt, ed., The Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya (Bangkok: The Siam Society Under Royal Patronage, 2000). 2 The Portuguese began to make maps of Southeast Asia by the early 1510s, followed by the Dutch, Spanish and French during the mid-1600s. The British were the last to contribute maps, in the mid-1820s. It is assumed that the term Siam or Sian, which appears on nearly all editions of maps of the region made in Europe from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, was the Portuguese version of the Chinese xian-luo, used to label the region that is now Thailand. C. Baker and P. Phongpaichit, A History of Thailand (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). Such maps usually recorded the names of harbors along the coast while hinterlands rarely appeared except for the names and locations of capitals and other important cities such as Ayutthaya. D. F. Rooney, “The Mapping of Thailand: An Introduction,” Dawn F. Rooney Cultural Archive, last modified 1991, http:// rooneyarchive.net/lectures/lec-maps_intro/lec_maps_intro.htm; T. Suárez, Early Mapping of Southeast Asia (Singapore: Periplus Editions Ltd., 1999); D. Garnier, Ayutthaya: Venice of the East (Bangkok: River Books Press, 2004). 3 Hai is a utensil made of clay with a small mouth and wide body that is narrow at the bottom, Thai Dictionary, 2011 ed., s.v. Hai, http://www.royin.go.th/dictionary/. 4 Garnier, Ayutthaya. 5 C. Muksong, Meuang Phraya Maha Nakhon (Bangkok: King Prajadhipok’s Institute, 2016a (in Thai)); C. Muksong, Meuang Luk Luang (Bangkok: King Prajadhipok’s Institute, 2016b (in Thai)).

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  6 These dates are approximate as they are from records interpreted from the primary and even secondary sources of historical records of unofficial arrivals of explorers and the official establishment of relations by the ambassadors to the King of Ayutthaya; D. Rajanubhab, HRH Prince, “The Introduction of Western Culture in Siam,” Journal of Siam Society 20, no. 2 (1926–7): 89–100, http://www. siam-society.org/pub_JSS/jss_index_1921-1930.html; E. Vatcharangkul, ed., History of Maritime Trade in Thailand (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 2001); P. Hongjamrassilp, “Relaciones entre Siam y Filipinas en la Edad Moderna (siglos XVI–XVIII)” (PhD diss., Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, 2017 (in Spanish)), https://repositorio.uam.es/handle/10486/680030.   7 N. Tarling, ed., The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part Two from c. 1500 to c. 1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999b).   8 N. Chandavij, Chinese Ceramics from Archaeological Sites in Thailand (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1994 (in Thai)); R. M. Brown, The Ceramics of SouthEast Asia: Their Dating and Identification, 2nd ed. (Chicago: Art Media Resource, 2000).   9 D. Hein, “Ceramic Kiln Lineages in Mainland Southeast Asia,” in Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery (Washington, DC: The Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institute, 2008), http://SEAsianCeramics.asia.si.edu. 10 B. Harrisson, Later Ceramics in Southeast Asia, Sixteenth to Twentieth Centuries (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1995); Tarling, The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part Two; P. Chanthon, Sea Voyages of Zhen He (Bangkok: The Foundation for the Promotion of Social Sciences and Humanities Textbooks Project and Toyota Thailand Foundation, 2005 (in Thai)); L. Qingxin, Maritime Silk Road, trans. W. W. Wang (China: China Intercontinental Press, 2006); W. Niphatsukkit, Deer Skin, Aromatic Wood, Elephant and Forest Product: Trade in Ayutthaya during the 16th to the 18th Century (Bangkok: Muang Boran Press, 2007 (in Thai)); J. N. Miksic, ed., Southeast Asian Ceramics: New Light on Old Pottery (Singapore: Southeast Asian Ceramic Society, 2009). 11 S. Praichanjit, S. Yabsantea, and A. Khaengsarikit, Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II: Ceramics from the Gulf of Thailand (Bangkok: Thai Fine Arts Department, 1990 (in Thai)); R. M. Brown, The Ming Gap and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware (Bangkok: River Books Press, 2009a); J. Green, “Maritime Archaeology of Ships of Indian Ocean, Southeast Asia and East Asia, The Question of Bulkheads,” in Proceedings on the Asia-Pacific Regional Conference on Underwater Cultural Heritage, eds. M. Staniforth et al. (Manila: Asian Academy for Heritage Management and National Museum of the Philippines, 2011), 345–52; Qingxin, Maritime Silk Road; M. Flecker, Early Voyaging in the South China Sea: Implications on Territorial Claims,

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Nalanda-Sriwijaya Center Working Paper Series No. 19 (Singapore: The NalandaSriwijaya Center, ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute, 2015) https://www.iseas.edu.sg/ images/pdf/nscwps19_early_voyaging_south_china_sea_implications_territorial_ claims.pdf. 12 Garnier, Ayutthaya; Qingxin, Maritime Silk Road; Niphatsukkit, Deer Skin; Tarling, The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part Two; R. M. Brown and S. Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics in Malaysia (Kuala Lumpur: Department of Museums and Antiques, 2001); E. Dizon, “Underwater and Maritime Archaeology in the Philippines,” Philippine Quarterly of Culture & Society 31 (2003): 1–25, https://www.jstor.org/stable/29792514; Brown, The Ming Gap. 13 V. Intakosi and P. Charoenwongsa, eds., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand (Bangkok: Underwater Archaeology Division, The Fine Arts Department, 1988 (in Thai)); Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Chandavij, Chinese Ceramics; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics; Brown, The Ming Gap. 14 Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Chandavij, Chinese Ceramics; Harrisson, Later Ceramics; Brown, The Ceramics of South-East Asia; Brown, The Ming Gap; D. Hein and S. Win, Ceramic Production Sites in Mon and Kayin States, Myanmar (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2015). 15 Two-color glaze here and in the following refers to a combination of brown and white glazes. 16 S. Phrommanot and S. Pichaichumphon, Ban Kruat Kilns, (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Departments, 1989 (in Thai)); K. Wiraprachak, S. Praichanjit, and S. Duangsakun, Archaeology in Lanna (Bangkok: Samaphan Press, 1997 (in Thai)); Brown, The Ceramics of South-East Asia. 17 Chandavij, Chinese Ceramics; Wiraprachak et al., Archaeology in Lanna; N. Tarling, ed., The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part One From Early Times to c. 1500 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999a); Brown, The Ceramics of South-East Asia; Miksic, Southeast Asian Ceramics; V. Souksavatdy, “Chinese Ceramics Found in Laos,” The PowerPoint Presentations on the Conference of Research on Chinese Export Ware Found in Thailand during the Past Three Decades, Ayutthaya, 2014 (Pathum Thani: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University, 2014). 18 The war between Ayutthaya and Burma (1510–1752); Annexation by Britain in Burma (1886); protectorate of France in Cambodia (1867) and Vietnam (1887) and Laos (1893); Tarling, The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part One; Tarling, The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume Two, Part One; Garnier, Ayutthaya.

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19 Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics; Brown, The Ming Gap. 20 Harrisson, Later Ceramics. 21 S. Praichanjit, Mae Nam Noi Kilns (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1988 (in Thai)); Asian Research Institute of Underwater Archaeology, Archaeological Report of Ojika-cho Cultural Property XVI Yamami Underwater Site: Archaeological Survey of Yamami Underwater Site, Ojika-cho Nagasaki Pref, Japan: Asian Research Institute of Underwater Archaeology, 2002), http://www.ariua.org/ english/projects_en/yamami_en/; J. Gawronski and P. Kranendonk, Below the Surface—Archeologische vondsten Noord/Zuidlijn Amsterdam (Amsterdam: City of Amsterdam, n.d.), https://belowthesurface.amsterdam/. 22 Carbon-14: Beta-140089 cal. 1200–1300 and Beta-140090 cal. 1170–1300; S. Praichanjit, Archaeology of Ceramics in Siam: Lan Na and Suphanburi Kiln Complexes (Bangkok: Silpakorn University, 2011). 23 Muksong, Meuang Luk Luang. 24 Praichanjit, Mae Nam Noi Kilns; J. Wilaikaew, Bang Pun Kilns (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1988 (in Thai)); J. Wilaikaew, Mae Nam Noi Kilns, Volume II, 3rd ed. (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1990 (in Thai)); D. Hein, “The Sawankhalok Ceramics Industry: From Domestic Enterprise to Regional Entrepreneur” (PhD diss., Deakin University, 2001). 25 M. Gopal, India Through the Ages, ed. K. S. Gautam (India: Publication Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1990), 176. 26 T. N. Prabhakar, S. Hari and S. T. N. Saraswati, Epic Characters of Ramayana (India: Bharatha Samskruthi Prakashana, 2019). 27 N. Tarling, The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia Volume One, Part One, 277. 28 D. F. Rooney, Khmer Ceramics: Beauty and Meaning (Bangkok: River Books Press, 2010). 29 Wilaikaew, Bang Pun Kilns; M. C. Subhadradis Diskul, Khmer Art (Bangkok: Khurusapha Press, 1992 (in Thai)); Rooney, Khmer Ceramics; D. F. Rooney, Ceramics of Seduction: Glazed Wares from Southeast Asia (Bangkok: Bangkok Printing Co., Ltd. 2013); Faculty of Archaeology, The Database of Southeast Asian Art (Bangkok: Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University, n.d.), http://www.artin-sea.com/en/. 30 This is supported by the many constructions of the Prasat, such as Phra Prang Sam Yot in the province of Lopburi, Prasat Muang Singh in the province of Kanchanaburi, the Phra Phai Luang temple in the province of Sukhothai, the Chom Chuen temple in the district of Si Satchanalai in the province of Sukhothai, all built in Khmer Bayon style (1177–1237); M. C. Subhadradis Diskul, “Further Notes on Prasat Muang Singh, Kanchanaburi Province,” Journal of the Siam Society 69 (1981): 164–80, http://www.siamese-heritage.org/jsspdf/1981/JSS_069_0l_

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SubhadradisDiskul_FurtherNotesOnPrasatMuangSingh.pdf; P. Krajaejun, ed., Sukhothai with ASEAN: Looking at the Present via the Past from History, Art History and Archaeology (Bangkok: Thammasat University, 2015); Faculty of Archaeology, The Database of Southeast Asian Art. 31 P. Krajaejun, personal communication, March 8, 2019; Wilaikaew, Bang Pun Kilns. 32 Flecker, Early Voyaging. 33 The Thai word Ko means island. In cases when the actual names of ships could not be identified, shipwreck findings in Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Indonesia are commonly named after the nearest island or famous city, beach or bay; this does not apply to shipwrecks found in Malaysia and the Philippines. 34 The ship sank in the late fourteenth century in the Gulf of Thailand near the coast of Chonburi, Thailand; Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Brown, The Ming Gap. 35 The ship sank in the early fifteenth century in the Gulf of Thailand near the coast of Chonburi, Thailand; Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Brown, The Ming Gap. 36 The ship sank in the early fifteenth century in the Karimata Strait near Bakau Island, Indonesia; M. Flecker, “The Bakau Wreck: An Early Example of Chinese Shipping in Southeast Asia,” The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 30, issue 2 (2001): 221–30, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1095-9270.2001.tb01369.x; Brown, The Ming Gap. 37 The ship sank in the middle to late fifteenth century in the South China Sea near Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam; W. Blake and M. Flecker, “A Preliminary Survey of a South-East Asian Wreck, Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam”, The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 23, issue 2 (1994): 73–91, https://doi. org/10.1111/j.1095-9270.1994.tb00447.x; Brown, The Ming Gap. 38 The ship sank in the middle to late fifteenth century in the Gulf of Thailand near the coast of Chonburi, Thailand; Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Brown, The Ming Gap; P. Sankhaprasit, “Ko Khram Shipwreck: New Findings and Research,” SEACM Newsletters 10, no. 1 (2016): 7–8, http://museum. bu.ac.th/en/newsletter/. 39 The ship sank in the middle to late fifteenth century in the South China Sea near the east coast of Malaysia; Brown, The Ming Gap; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics. 40 H. Maidin, personal communication, December 12, 2018. 41 In the Sukhothai period (1238–1438), Si Satchanalai city was known as Si Satchanalai, Chaliang, Chiang Chuen, and Sawankhalok. By the second half of the fifteenth century, the Lanna Kingdom (1292–1775/6) wanted to gain possession of Si Satchanalai to expand its territorial power. It succeeded during the reign of King Tilokarat (1441–87), who was the ninth king of the Lanna Kingdom,

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­43

44 45

46 47

48

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Transformative Jars and changed the name from Si Satchanalai to Chiang Chuen. In 1474, Ayutthaya regained control of Si Satchanalai and King Borommatrilokanath (1448–88), the ninth king of the Ayutthaya Kingdom, changed the name to Sawankhalok. However, the Chinese and Japanese historical records use the words Sangkhalok or Sunkoroku to refer to ceramics from Sawankhalok via Ayutthaya as both were derived from the word Sawankhalok. Hence, this paper prefers to call the kilns Si Satchanalai Kilns as it focuses on the early production period; M. Vickery, “The Old City of ‘Chaliang’—‘Srīsatchanalai’—‘Sawankhalok’,” Journal of the Siam Society 78, no. 2 (1990): 15–29; A. Sukkham, “Si Satchanalai Figurines: Reconstruction of Ancient Daily Life, Beliefs and Environment in Siam during the Sixteenth Century,” International Journal of Historical Archaeology 22, issue 4 (2018): 800–42, https:// doi.org/10.1007/s10761-017-0449-7. K. Pinsri, P. Thammapreechakorn, and U. Nguanpeanpak, Sukhothai Ceramics: Development of Thai Ceramics (Bangkok: Osotspa Co., Ltd., 1992 (in Thai)); Brown, The Ming Gap; B. M. Tri and D. T. Giang, eds., International Conference Proceedings of Binh Dinh Ancient Ceramics: Vijaya Kingdom and its Relationship with Thang Long Citadel, Dai Viet (11th–15th Centuries) (Hanoi: Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences (VASS) and Institute of Imperial Citadel Studies (IICS), 2017). Carbon-14 (AMS): Wk-45203 cal. 1340–1400 and Wk-45204 cal. 1350–90; T. Sako, “A Reappraisal of Tao Thuriang: Recent Findings from Excavation at Sukhothai Ceramic Kilns,” in Ancient Maritime Cross-cultural Exchange: Archaeological Research in Thailand, ed. A. Srisuchat and W. Giessler (Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 2019), 167–91. Hein, “The Sawankhalok Ceramics Industry.” Pinsri et al., Sukhothai Ceramics; Sukkham, “Si Satchanalai Figurines”; A. Sukkham, “Si Satchanalai Celadon and its Export to Southeast Asia,” Arts of Asia Magazine 44, no. 1 (2014): 85–97. Hein, “The Sawankhalok Ceramics Industry”; Hein, “Ceramics Kiln Lineages.” Pinsri et al., Sukhothai Ceramics; Hein, “The Sawankhalok Ceramics Industry”; Hein, “Ceramics Kiln Lineages”; Sukkham, “Si Satchanalai Celadon”; Sukkham, “Si Satchanalai Figurines.” W. Khumbut, “The Cultural Development of Ancient Communities at Muang Bang Khlang, Sawankhalok and Thung Saliam Districts, Sukhothai during the 13th to 17th Centuries AD” (MA thesis, Silpakorn University, 2010 (in Thai)), http://www. thapra.lib.su.ac.th/thesis/showthesis_th.asp?id=0000005380; P. Ueasaman, Report on the Excavation of Wat Phra Phai Luang in 2012 (Sukhothai: Sukhothai Historical Park, The Fine Arts Department, 2012 (in Thai)). D. F. Rooney, Ancient Sukhothai: Thailand’s Cultural Heritage (Bangkok: River Books Press, 2008).

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50 A. Sukkham, “Chapter 28, Variability in Ceramics of the Bang Rachan (Maenam Noi) Kilns, Singburi, Thailand,” in Advancing Southeast Asian Archaeology 2013: Selected Papers from the First SEAMEO SPAFA International Conference on Southeast Asian Archaeology in Chonburi, ed. N. H. Tan (Bangkok: SEAMEO SPAFA, 2015), 318–28, 350–3. 51 The ship sank in the middle to late fifteenth century in the South China Sea near the eastern coast of Malaysia; Brown, The Ming Gap; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics. 52 N. Beavan et al., “Radiocarbon Dates from Jar and Coffin Burials of the Cardamom Mountains Reveal a Unique Mortuary Ritual in Cambodia’s Late- To Post-Angkor Period (15th–17th Centuries AD),” Radiocarbon 54, no. 1 (2012): 1–22, https://doi. org/10.2458/azu_js_rc.v54i1.15828. 53 Garnier, Ayutthaya. 54 Garnier, Ayutthaya. 55 Chao is a Thai word for the noble title granted to a prince and is usually used before the full name, Thai Dictionary, 2001 ed., s.v. Chao, http://www.royin.go.th/ dictionary/. 56 Praichanjit, Mae Nam Noi Kilns; Wilaikaew, Mae Nam Noi Kilns, Volume II. ­57 Praichanjit, Mae Nam Noi Kilns; Wilaikaew, Mae Nam Noi Kilns, Volume II; Pinsri et al., Sukhothai Ceramics; Sukkham, “Chapter 28.” 58 The ship sank in the middle to late fifteenth century in the South China Sea near the east coast of Malaysia; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics. 59 The ship sank in the early sixteenth century in the Gulf of Thailand near Si Chang Island, Chonburi, Thailand; J. Green, R. Harper, and V. Intakosi, The Ko Si Chang Three Shipwreck Excavation 1986 (Victoria: Australian Institute for Maritime Archaeology, 1987); Intakosi and Charoenwongsa, Underwater Archaeology in Thailand. 60 The ship sank in the early sixteenth century in the South China Sea near the coast of Da Nang, Vietnam; Butterfields Auctioneers Corp., Treasures from the Hoi An Hoard: Important Vietnamese Ceramics from a Late Fifteenth/Early Sixteenth Century Cargo (San Francisco: Butterfields Auctioneers Corp., 2000). 61 Sank in the Gulf of Thailand near Samui Island, Surat Thani, Thailand; Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Brown, The Ming Gap. 62 Sank in the Gulf of Thailand near Kra Island, Nakhon Si Thammarat, Thailand; A. Saelao, “The Study and Conservation of Ceramics Recovered from Kra Shipwreck, Nakhon Si Thammarat” (BA thesis, Silpakorn University, 2005 (in Thai)), http:// www.thapra.lib.su.ac.th/objects/thesis/fulltext/bachelor/a12548022/fulltext.pdf. 63 Si Chang III and Klang Aow sank in the Gulf of Thailand near the coast of Chonburi, Thailand; Klang Aow is Thai and means in the Middle of the Gulf (of

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Thailand); Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Brown, The Ming Gap; S. Praicharnjit, “Current Movement of Underwater Archaeology in Thailand and its Application to the History of Maritime Trade during the 13th to 18th Century AD,” Silpakorn Journal 35, no. 2 (1992 (in Thai)): 34–67. 64 Sank in the South China Sea near the coast of Brunei; M. L’Hour, The Sunken Treasures of Brunei Darussalam: Archaeologist’s Logbook (Paris: Textuel, 2001); D. Richards, ed., Lost for 500 Years: Sunken Treasures of Brunei Darussalam (Sydney: Art Exhibitions Australia, 2003). 65 Sank in the South China Sea near the coast of the Philippines; F. Goddio and G. Casal, Lost at Sea: The Strange Route of the Lena Shoal Junk (London: Periplus, 2002). 66 Sank in the Gulf of Thailand near the coast of Chanthaburi; Praichanjit et al., Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II; Brown, The Ming Gap. 67 The Singtai Shipwreck was found in the South China Sea near the coast of Malaysia; Brown, The Ming Gap; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics. 68 Asian Research Institute of Underwater Archaeology, Archaeological Report of Ojika-cho Cultural Property XVI Yamami Underwater Site. ­69 For example, the Witte Leeuw, owned by the Dutch East India Company, sank near St. Helena Island in 1613; the Esmeralda, owned by the fourth Portuguese fleet to India, sank near Al Hallaniyah Island, Oman; C. L. v. d. Pijl-Ketel, ed., The Ceramic Load of the “Witte Leeuw” (1613) (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum, 1982); T. M. Casimiro, “Material Culture from the Al Hallaniyah Island Early 16th‐Century Portuguese Indiaman Wreck‐site,” International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 47, issue 1 (2018): 182–202, https://doi.org/10.1111/1095-9270.12291. 70 The ship sank in the early eighteenth century in the South China Sea near the east coast of Malaysia; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics. 71 Praichanjit, Mae Nam Noi Kilns; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics; Asian Research Institute of Underwater Archaeology, Archaeological Report of Ojika-cho; Brown, The Ming Gap; Sukkham, “Chapter 28”; S. Wong, “Southeast Asian Ceramics found in Penny’s Bay, Hong Kong: Important Evidence of Exchange between China and Southeast Asia,” SEACM Newsletters 8, no. 2 (2015): 1–4, http://museum.bu.ac.th/en/newsletter/; Gawronski and Kranendonk, Below the Surface—Archeologische vondsten Noord/Zuidlijn Amsterdam. 72 Garnier, Ayutthaya. 73 Green et al., The Ko Si Chang Three; F. Goddio, Discovery and Archaeological Excavation of a 16th Century Trading Vessel in the Philippines (Lausanne: World Wide First, 1988); Praichanjit, Mae Nam Noi Kilns; Praicharnjit et al., Underwater

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Archaeology in Thailand II; Praicharnjit, “Current Movement”; Blake and Flecker, “A Preliminary Survey”; S. Adhyatman, C. Ho, and B. Bronson, “Another 15th–16th Century Shipwreck, This Time from Indonesia,” ACRO Update 1 (2000): 4–5; Brown and Sjostrand, Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics; Flecker, “The Bakau Wreck”; L’Hour, The Sunken Treasures; Goddio and Casal, Lost at Sea; E. Dizon, “Underwater and Maritime Archaeology in the Philippines”; Brown, The Ming Gap; R. M. Brown, Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University (Pathum Thani: Bangkok University, 2009b); Green, “Maritime Archaeology of Ships”; Sukkham, “Si Satchanalai Celadon”; Flecker, Early Voyaging; Sankhaprasit, “Ko Khram Shipwreck.” 74 Brown, The Ming Gap; Miksic, Southeast Asian Ceramics; Green, “Maritime Archaeology of Ships”; Flecker, Early Voyaging; Niphatsukkit, Deer Skin. 75 Wong, “Southeast Asian Ceramics found in Penny’s Bay, Hong Kong.” 76 Gawronski and Kranendonk, Below the Surface; Casimiro, “Material Culture from the Al Hallaniyah Island.”

B ­ ibliography Adhyatman, S., C. Ho, and B. Bronson. “Another 15th–16th Century Shipwreck, This Time from Indonesia.” ACRO Update 1 (2000): 4–5. Asian Research Institute of Underwater Archaeology. Archaeological Report of Ojikacho Cultural Property XVI Yamami Underwater Site: Archaeological Survey of Yamami Underwater Site, Ojika-cho. Nagasaki Pref. Japan: Asian Research Institute of Underwater Archaeology, 2002. http://www.ariua.org/english/projects_en/ yamami_en/. Baker, C. and P. Phongpaichit. A History of Thailand. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Beavan, N. et al. “Radiocarbon Dates from Jar and Coffin Burials of the Cardamom Mountains Reveal a Unique Mortuary Ritual in Cambodia’s Late- To Post-Angkor Period (15th–17th centuries AD).” Radiocarbon 54, no. 1 (2012): 1–22. https://doi. org/10.2458/azu_js_rc.v54i1.15828. Blake, W. and M. Flecker. “A Preliminary Survey of a South-East Asian Wreck, Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam.” The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 23, issue 2 (1994): 73–91. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1095-9270.1994.tb00447.x. Brown, R. M. The Ceramics of South-East Asia: Their Dating and Identification. 2nd ed. Chicago: Art Media Resource, 2000. Brown, R. M. The Ming Gap and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware. Bangkok: River Books Press, 2009a. Brown, R. M. Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University. Pathum Thani: Bangkok University, 2009b.

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Brown, R. M. and S. Sjostrand. Maritime Archaeology and Shipwreck Ceramics in Malaysia. Kuala Lumpur: Department of Museums and Antiques, 2001. Butterfields Auctioneers Corp. Treasures from the Hoi An Hoard: Important Vietnamese Ceramics from a Late 15th/early 16th Century Cargo. San Francisco: Butterfields Auctioneers Corp., 2000. Casimiro, T. M. “Material Culture from the Al Hallaniyah Island Early 16th‐Century Portuguese Indiaman Wreck‐site.” The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 47, issue 1 (2018): 182–202. https://doi.org/10.1111/1095-9270.12291. Chandavij, N. Chinese Ceramics from Archaeological Sites in Thailand. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1994 (in Thai). Chanthon, P. Sea Voyages of Zhen He. Bangkok: The Foundation for the Promotion of Social Sciences and Humanities Textbooks Project and Toyota Thailand Foundation, 2005 (in Thai). Cushman, R. D., trans. and Wyatt, D. K., ed. The Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya. Bangkok: The Siam Society Under Royal Patronage, 2000. Dizon, E. “Underwater and Maritime Archaeology in the Philippines.” Philippine Quarterly of Culture & Society 31 (2003): 1–25. https://www.jstor.org/ stable/29792514. ­Faculty of Archaeology. The Database of Southeast Asian Art. Bangkok: Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University, n.d. http://www.art-in-sea.com/en/. Flecker, M. “The Bakau Wreck: An Early Example of Chinese Shipping in Southeast Asia.” The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 30, issue 2 (2001): 221–30. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1095-9270.2001.tb01369.x. Flecker, M. Early Voyaging in the South China Sea: Implications on Territorial Claims, Nalanda–Sriwijaya Center Working Paper Series No. 19). Singapore: The NalandaSriwijaya Center, ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute, 2015. https://www.iseas.edu.sg/ images/pdf/nscwps19_early_voyaging_south_china_sea_implications_territorial_ claims.pdf. Garnier, D. Ayutthaya: Venice of the East. Bangkok: River Books Press, 2004. Gawronski, J. and P. Kranendonk, Below the Surface—Archeologische vondsten Noord/ Zuidlijn Amsterdam. Amsterdam: City of Amsterdam, n.d. https://belowthesurface. amsterdam/. Goddio, F. Discovery and Archaeological Excavation of a 16th Century Trading Vessel in the Philippines. Lausanne: World Wide First, 1988. Goddio, F. and G. Casal. Lost at Sea: The Strange Route of the Lena Shoal Junk. London: Periplus, 2002. Gopal, M. India Through the Ages. Edited by K. S. Gautam. India: Publication Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1990. Green, J. “Maritime Archaeology of Ships of Indian Ocean, Southeast Asia and East Asia, the Question of Bulkheads.” Proceedings on the Asia-Pacific Regional Conference on Underwater Cultural Heritage. Edited by M. Staniforth, J. Craig, S. C.

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Jago-on, B. Orillaneda, and L. Lacsina, 345–52. Manila: Asian Academy for Heritage Management and National Museum of the Philippines, 2011. Green, J., R. Harper, and V. Intakosi. The Ko Si Chang Three Shipwreck Excavation 1986. Victoria: Australian Institute for Maritime Archaeology, 1987. Harrisson, B. Later Ceramics in Southeast Asia, Sixteenth to Twentieth Centuries. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1995. Hein, D. “The Sawankhalok Ceramics Industry: From Domestic Enterprise to Regional Entrepreneur.” PhD diss., Deakin University, 2001. Hein, D. “Ceramic Kiln Lineages in Mainland Southeast Asia.” In Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery. Washington, DC: The Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institute, 2008. http://SEAsianCeramics.asia.si.edu. Hein, D. and S. Win, Ceramic Production Sites in Mon and Kayin States, Myanmar. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2015. Hongjamrassilp, P. “Relaciones entre Siam y Filipinas en la Edad Moderna (siglos XVI– XVIII).” PhD diss., Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, 2017 (in Spanish). https:// repositorio.uam.es/handle/10486/680030. ­Intakosi, V. and P. Charoenwongsa, eds. Underwater Archaeology in Thailand. Bangkok: Underwater Archaeology Division, The Fine Arts Department, 1988 (in Thai). Khumbut, W. “The Cultural Development of Ancient Communities at Muang Bang Khlang, Sawankhalok and Thung Saliam Districts, Sukhothai during the 13th to 17th Centuries AD.” MA thesis, Silpakorn University, 2010 (in Thai). http://www. thapra.lib.su.ac.th/thesis/showthesis_th.asp?id=0000005380. Krajaejun, P. ed. Sukhothai with ASEAN: Looking at the Present via the Past from History, Art History and Archaeology. Bangkok: Thammasat University, 2015. L’Hour, M. The Sunken Treasures of Brunei Darussalam: Archaeologist’s Logbook. Paris: Textuel, 2001. Miksic, J. N., ed. Southeast Asian Ceramics: New Light on Old Pottery. Singapore: Southeast Asian Ceramic Society, 2009. Muksong, C. Meuang Phraya Maha Nakhon. Bangkok: King Prajadhipok’s Institute, 2016a (in Thai). Muksong, C. Meuang Luk Luang. Bangkok: King Prajadhipok’s Institute, 2016b (in Thai). Niphatsukkit, W. Deer Skin, Aromatic Wood, Elephant and Forest Product: Trade in Ayutthaya During the 16th to the 18th Century. Bangkok: Muang Boran Press, 2007 (in Thai). Phrommanot, S. and S. Pichaichumphon. Ban Kruat Kilns. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1989 (in Thai). Pijl-Ketel, C. L. v. d., ed. The Ceramic Load of the “Witte Leeuw” (1613). Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum, 1982.

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Pinsri, K., P. Thammapreechakorn, and U. Nguanpeanpak. Sukhothai Ceramics: Development of Thai Ceramics. Bangkok: Osotspa Co., Ltd., 1992 (in Thai). Prabhakar, T. N., S. Hari, and S. T. N. Saraswati. Epic Characters of Ramayana. India: Bharatha Samskruthi Prakashana, 2019. Praichanjit, S. Mae Nam Noi Kilns. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1988 (in Thai). Praicharnjit, S. “Current Movement of Underwater Archaeology in Thailand and its Application to the History of Maritime Trade during the 13th to 18th Century AD.” Silpakorn Journal 35, no. 2 (1992 (in Thai)): 34–67. Praichanjit, S. Archaeology of Ceramics in Siam: Lan Na and Suphanburi Kiln Complexes. Bangkok: Silpakorn University, 2011. Praichanjit, S., S. Yabsantea, and A. Khaengsarikit. Underwater Archaeology in Thailand II: Ceramics from the Gulf of Thailand. Bangkok: Thai Fine Arts Department, 1990 (in Thai). Qingxin, L. Maritime Silk Road. Translated by W. W. Wang. China: China Intercontinental Press, 2006. Rajanubhab, D., H. R. H. Prince. “The Introduction of Western Culture in Siam.” Journal of Siam Society 20, no. 2 (1926–7): 89–100. http://www.siam-society.org/ pub_JSS/jss_index_1921-1930.html. ­Richards, D., ed. Lost for 500 Years: Sunken Treasures of Brunei Darussalam. Sydney: Art Exhibitions Australia, 2003. Rooney, D. F. “The Mapping of Thailand: An Introduction.” Dawn F. Rooney Cultural Archive. Last modified 1991. http://rooneyarchive.net/lectures/lec-maps_intro/ lec_maps_intro.htm. Rooney, D. F. Ancient Sukhothai: Thailand’s Cultural Heritage. Bangkok: River Books Press, 2008. Rooney, D. F. Khmer Ceramics: Beauty and Meaning. Bangkok: River Books Press, 2010. Rooney, D. F. Ceramics of Seduction: Glazed Wares from Southeast Asia. Bangkok: Bangkok Printing Co., Ltd., 2013. Saelao, A. “The Study and Conservation of Ceramics Recovered from Kra Shipwreck, Nakhon Si Thammarat.” BA thesis, Silpakorn University, 2005 (in Thai). http://www. thapra.lib.su.ac.th/objects/thesis/fulltext/bachelor/a12548022/fulltext.pdf. Sako, T. “A Reappraisal of Tao Thuriang: Recent Findings from Excavation at Sukhothai Ceramic Kilns.” In Ancient Maritime Cross-cultural Exchange: Archaeological Research in Thailand, edited by A. Srisuchat and W. Giessler, 167–91. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 2019. Sankhaprasit, P. “Ko Khram Shipwreck: New Findings and Research.” Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum Newsletters 10, no. 1 (2016): 7–8. http://museum.bu.ac.th/en/ newsletter/. Souksavatdy, V. “Chinese Ceramics Found in Laos.” In The PowerPoint Presentations on the Conference of Research on Chinese Export Ware Found in Thailand during the Past Three Decades, Ayutthaya, 2014. Pathum Thani: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University, 2014.

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Suárez, T. Early Mapping of Southeast Asia. Singapore: Periplus Editions Ltd., 1999. Subhadradis Diskul, M. C. “Further Notes on Prasat Muang Singh, Kanchanaburi Province.” Journal of the Siam Society 69 (1981): 164–80. http://www. siamese-heritage.org/jsspdf/1981/JSS_069_0l_SubhadradisDiskul_ FurtherNotesOnPrasatMuangSingh. Subhadradis Diskul, M. C. Khmer Art. Bangkok: Khurusapha Press, 1992 (in Thai). Sukkham, A. “Si Satchanalai Celadon and its Export to Southeast Asia.” Arts of Asia Magazine 44, no. 1 (2014): 85–97. Sukkham, A. “Chapter 28, Variability in Ceramics of the Bang Rachan (Maenam Noi) Kilns, Singburi, Thailand.” In Advancing Southeast Asian Archaeology 2013: Selected papers from the First SEAMEO SPAFA International Conference on Southeast Asian Archaeology in Chonburi. Edited by N. H. Tan, 318–28, 350–3. Bangkok: SEAMEO SPAFA, 2015. Sukkham, A. “Si Satchanalai Figurines: Reconstruction of Ancient Daily Life, Beliefs and Environment in Siam during the Sixteenth Century.” International Journal of Historical Archaeology 22, issue 4 (2018): 800–42. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10761017-0449-7. ­Tarling, N., ed. The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part One From Early Times to c. 1500. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999a. Tarling, N., ed. The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume One, Part Two from c. 1500 to c. 1800. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999b. Tarling, N., ed. The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia: Volume Two, Part One from c. 1800 to the 1930s. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999c. Tri, B. M. and D. T. Giang, eds. International Conference Proceedings of Binh Dinh Ancient Ceramics: Vijaya Kingdom and its Relationship with Thang Long Citadel, Dai Viet (11th–15th Centuries). Hanoi: Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences (VASS) and Institute of Imperial Citadel Studies (IICS), 2017. Ueasaman, P. Report on the Excavation of Wat Phra Phai Luang in 2012. Sukhothai: Sukhothai Historical Park, The Fine Arts Department, 2012 (in Thai). Vatcharangkul, E., ed. History of Maritime Trade in Thailand. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 2001. Vickery, M. “The Old City of ‘Chaliang’—‘Srīsatchanalai’—‘Sawankhalok’.” Journal of the Siam Society 78, no. 2 (1990): 15–29. Wade, G., trans. and ed. Southeast Asia in the Ming Shi-lu: An Open Access Resource. Singapore: National University of Singapore, n.d. http://epress.nus.edu.sg/msl/. Wong, S. “Southeast Asian Ceramics Found in Penny’s Bay, Hong Kong: Important Evidence of Exchange Between China and Southeast Asia.” Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum Newsletters 8, no. 2 (2015): 1–4. http://museum.bu.ac.th/en/newsletter/. Wilaikaew, J. Bang Pun Kilns. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1988 (in Thai). Wilaikaew, J. Mae Nam Noi Kilns, Volume II. 3rd ed. Bangkok: The Fine Arts Department, 1990 (in Thai). Wiraprachak, K., S. Praichanjit, and S. Duangsakun. Archaeology in Lanna. Bangkok: Samaphan Press, 1997 (in Thai).

­4

Weaving Networks: Production and Exchange of Ceramic Jars in South China and Vietnam from the Fourteenth to the Sixteenth Century Sharon Wai-yee Wong

In Chinese historical accounts regarding Champa, a collection of Cham polities in the area of contemporary central and southern Vietnam, descriptions of the usage of jars can be found. Records of Tributes from the West Sea written by Huang Shengceng in 1520 CE records: The people [in Champa] drink jar wine. The wine is fermented from rice, mixed with drugs, sealed in jars, and matured by live maggots. Whenever the people drink the wine, they will cut a stick of narrow bamboo 3 feet in length, hollow it, and insert it into the jar. They sit around the jar. The amount of water poured into the jar depends on how many people are present. They take sips in turns. When it doesn’t taste like wine any more, no more water will be added. They will drink and sing whenever there is a full moon. They traded pale gold and silver for (product).1

In Investigations of Eastern and Western Oceans written in 1617 CE by Zhang Xie, a similar description regarding Champa customs appears: The wine is fermented in the jar. While the wine is ready, the guests and master would sit around the jar, drink wine with straws, and add water while drinking wine when it doesn’t taste like wine any more.2 This research was funded by a Direct Grant for Research at The Chinese University of Hong Kong (project no: 4051093). I would like to acknowledge the organization committee of the Global Jars: Asian Containers as Transcultural Enclosures conference, Dr. Anna Grasskamp, Dr. John Johnston and Prof. Anne Gerritsen, for inviting me to be a programme committee member and present at the conference. I would like to thank Guangdong Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics & Archaeology; Archaeology Research Institute of the Fujian Museum; Foshan Museum, Guangdong Shiwan Ceramic Museum, Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences, and Hong Kong Maritime Museum for their kind assistance in providing information for my study.

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Both sources use the term weng (甕) to describe this specific type of wine jar. This chapter presents archaeological evidence that supports this idea and identifies the need to re-examine the types and functions of (Chinese) jars in Vietnam as transcultural enclosures considering both their global and local contexts. In fourteenth- to sixteenth-century South China and Central Vietnam, jars, as ceramic trade goods or containers of foodstuffs, can reveal details about the inter- and intra-regional economic exchange networks and interactions between the production systems of kilns in China and Southeast Asia. Studies of ceramic jars in the fields of Southeast Asian archaeology, maritime archaeology, and ceramics studies have provided a solid foundation in terms of archaeological, stylistic, historical, ethno-archaeological, and scientific approaches for future research on jars.3 Recent research has highlighted the connection between the spheres of ceramic exchange and maritime trade networks and demonstrated the existence of a regional exchange network of ceramic trade in Southeast Asia. Yet, previous studies have rarely if at all offered detailed comparisons between southern Chinese and Central Vietnamese ceramic production sites and their products due to the limited accessibility of archaeological site reports and local research within the two regions.4 To date, only a few studies have compared the sites and characteristics of ceramic jar production in South China—in particular, Guangdong and Fujian—and Central Vietnam. This chapter focuses on recently published archaeological reports and relevant research articles in Chinese and Vietnamese that have been circulated regionally rather than internationally. These include publications on the major ceramic jar production sites in Central Vietnam, and Guangdong and Fujian in South China, and Chinese historical accounts of jars from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century. During the middle and later years of the Ming Dynasty (approximately between the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries), European merchants sailed east, where they found their commercial interests threatened by the widespread activities of pirates, and tributary trade overshadowed by private maritime trading between South China and Southeast Asia.5 Jars were the most common ceramic vessels at that time, some of them may have been heirlooms of considerable age reused to carry other goods, as excavations of shipwrecks along the maritime trade routes indicate. This paper will highlight three specific jar types found among shipwrecks: yellowish-brown-glazed ceramic jars, dragon and phoenix jars, and brown-glazed jars. Most of them were produced at the Shiwan Kilns and Cizao Kilns in South China and the Binh Dinh Kilns in Central Vietnam. This chapter presents preliminary research on the similarities and differences between the products and the production

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Figure 4.1  Kiln sites, ports, and shipwreck sites mentioned in this text (modified by the author). Copyright: Sharon Wong.

techniques employed in the kilns in relation to these three jar types, providing new insights into production systems, maritime trade, and political policies connecting China and Southeast Asia during the early modern period.

Major Production Sites of Ceramic Jars in South China and Central Vietnam Numerous researchers have speculated that most of the yellowish-brown-glazed ceramic storage jars, dragon and phoenix jars, and brown-glazed jars found in shipwrecks were produced in South China at the Shiwan Kilns in Guangdong and the Cizao Kilns in Fujian, and at the Binh Dinh Kilns in Central Vietnam (Figure  4.1). However, detailed research has rarely been conducted on the similarities and differences between the products and the production techniques at these three sites. Brief overviews of these three kilns follow:

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Foshan Shiwan Kilns in Guangdong, South China The Shiwan Kilns are located in Shiwan village, Foshan city, about twenty kilometers from the international port of Guangzhou in South China. Ceramic production began when the Tang Dynasty (618–907 CE) came to power in China. Since then, these kilns have been producing pottery for daily use. It should be noted that no formal archaeological excavations have been conducted in the Shiwan Kilns. Some archaeological investigations were conducted between 1957 and 1972 based on test pit findings and general surveys on the distribution of kiln sites from the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing periods, and the formation of the Republic of China to the present day. In 1963, the Guangdong Provincial Cultural Bureau conducted general surveys on cultural relics in Guangdong Province and found several jar production sites. First, the Qishi Kilns were discovered in Xiaotang County where the kiln structures were of the type known as bun kilns during the reign of the Tang Dynasty and dragon kilns during the Song period. Some jars with four lugs and the stamped inscriptions of either the second year of the Zhenghe Era 政和二年 (Zhenghe er nian, 1112 CE) or the Jiayou Era 嘉祐 (Jiayou, 1056–63 CE) dating back to the reign of the Northern Song and a jar sherd stamped Qishi 奇石—the name of the kiln—were found at the kiln site in 1978. An intact yellowish-brown-glazed jar, 38 centimeters high and stamped four times with Surname Pan House 潘宅 (Panzhai) on its shoulders in between the four lugs, found at the site is now housed in the collection of the Foshan Museum (Figure 4.2A/Plate 5A).6 Second, the Wentouling Kiln, which belonged to the Song Dynasty, was discovered. It was famous for its iron-painted underglazed jars, and some brown-glazed jars were also produced in this kiln. Third, the Damao Hill Kiln was discovered in Shiwan County, which functioned from the Tang to the Song periods. The major findings here were brown- and yellowish-brown-glazed jars. The saggars were cylindrical or basin-like in shape. Stacking rings, and flat disk-shaped and irregular-shaped clay wads were used as separators. The firing temperature was around 1,000 to 1,150 degrees Celsius (Figure 4.2C–E/ Plate 5C–E).7 Fourth, at the site of the Guishan Kiln in Shiwan County, which dates back to the time of the Song and Qing Dynasties, dragon kiln debris and brownish-yellow-glazed or brownish-black-glazed jar sherds were found. The last two were found at the sites of the Nanfengzao (南風灶) and Gaozao (高灶) dragon kilns in Shiwan County, which date back to the Ming Zhengde period

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(1506–21 CE). The length, height, and width of the Nanfengzao Kiln were 32.6 meters, 1.8 meters, and 2.5 meters respectively, and the structure of the Gaozao Kiln was similar to that at Nanfengzao. It was 38.5 meters long, 1.95 meters high, and between 2.15 and 2.25 meters wide. Both Nanfengzao and Gaozao mainly produced vessels for daily use, such as dishes, jars, and basins. It is reported that vessels were placed directly on the surface of the fire chamber or contained in the cylindrical saggars with holes for firing.8 Another recently discovered site is the Meitao Garden in Shiwan, which was investigated during 2009 and 2010. The staff at the Foshan Chancheng District Museum report that construction workers found a large quantity of ceramics along the river by Xiaowanglou Hill that date from the Tang period to the formation of the Republic of China. Most of the ceramics were from the Tang and Ming periods. No kiln structures or furniture were discovered except for ten wells that date from the Song to Qing Dynasties. Based on personal communications with the curators and a field visit by the author, most of the ceramic samples from the surface collections are believed to be utensils for daily use, and brown-glazed jars comprised the dominant type of object. One such brown-glazed jar had four horizontal lugs, an everted rim, a long neck, and a tall ovoid-shaped body with a narrow flat base (Figure 4.2B/ Plate 5B).9 Such jars were popularly used in local tombs as funerary objects in Guangdong during the Ming Dynasty.10 However, no rescue excavations were conducted at the site and most of the surface collections have been investigated at museums. Studies conducted by historians and researchers at the Foshan Museum have revealed that many ceramic artisans from more than ten clans escaped from Central China through Chu Ji Lane at Nanxiong to Shiwan during the war in the Song–Yuan period. They supplemented the local traditional ceramics industry in Shiwan and introduced ceramic-making techniques such as ensuring better control of the firing temperature and atmosphere in a dragon kiln. During the reign of Ming Zhengde (1505–21 CE), the Nanfengzao Kiln was built on the foundations of Wenzao (文灶) from the Yuan Dynasty. There was an innovation in the construction of the Shiwan dragon kiln during the Ming Dynasty. The stoke holes were relocated to the top of the kiln and, with five holes in each row, more firewood could be placed in the stoke holes, thereby distributing heat throughout the kiln to solve the problem of uneven temperatures. This resulted in an increase in the ceramic yield. The potters also used basin-shaped saggars to contain the pots to prevent the wood ash from falling from above. The mouthto-mouth stacking method was used as part of the Shiwan Kiln tradition, where

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Figure 4.2  Brown-glazed jars and kiln furniture from Shiwan, Guangdong, South China. Photo: Sharon Wong. A. Brown-glazed jar with Panzhai (“潘宅”) stamped on the shoulder, Qishi Kiln, eleventh to twelfth century. B. Brown-glazed jar found at the Meitao Garden site, ca. fifteenth to sixteenth century. C. Stacking ring, flat disk-shaped and irregular-shaped clay wads. D. Cylindrical saggar base fragment. E. Basin-shaped saggar, Foshan Shiwan Kiln, eleventh to twelfth century. A–B. Courtesy of Foshan Museum and Guangdong Shiwan Ceramic Museum, photo by Sharon Wong; C–E. Guangdong Provincial Museum, Exhibition of Shiwan Wares, 145–6.

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one saggar was placed upside down touching the rim of another and the gap was sealed with wads of fire clay.11 In Guangdong, Shiwan’s ceramics industry was divided into different guilds based on the type of production work done and the geographical boundaries within which the guilds were enclosed, starting from the reign of Emperor Jiajing of the Ming Dynasty (1521–67 CE). The purpose was to protect the creators’ exclusive rights; guilds were not allowed to imitate one another’s products, and the craftsmen in each guild produced different ceramic products. This was the standardized operating model controlled by local clan groups. For instance, jars with small mouths and restricted bases, ovoid bodies and lugs for wine, water, or vinegar were made by the Guild of Cheng (埕); wide-mouthed jars to store sugar, tea, or rice were made by the Guild of Gang (缸); and jars with smaller rims than their flat bases for storing flour or fermented bean curd were made by the Guild of Ta (塔).12 Jars had different names according to their shapes and functions.

Jinjiang Cizao Kilns in Fujian, South China The Cizao Kilns in Jinjiang County were located sixteen kilometers away from the southwestern part of Quanzhou, an international port dating back to the Song–Yuan period. Boats would travel from Jinjiang to the Gulf of Quanzhou to export ceramic products. Clay could be found in Dapu Xidong Hill (also called the ceramic clay mountain). The Cizao Kilns began producing ceramics in the period of the Six Dynasties and ended production during the reign of the Qing Dynasty. They experienced highly prosperous mass production during the Song–Yuan period. Evidence of the production of jars has been discovered in the Houshan, Huzaishan, Xushan, and Jinjiaoyi Kilns in Cizao District and in the Tuwei’an and Zhizhushan Kilns in Lingpan District. The major jar products of the Cizao Kilns were very distinctive and included the so-called mercury jar (with a small mouth), brown-glazed jars with lugs, yellowish-brown jars with incised decorations, and green lead-glazed jars with dragons applied to the shoulders, dating back to the Song–Yuan period (Figure  4.3A–C/Plate 6).13 In Jinjiaoyi, four kilns (Y1–Y4) were excavated. They were all dragon kilns, measuring between 60.88 and 62 meters in length. Jars were usually placed on the surface of the fire chamber with flat cylindrical supports with holes and tubular supports or contained by cylindrical saggars with holes separated by stacking rings and flat disk-shaped separators for firing (Figure 4.3D–G).14

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Figure 4.3  Jars and kiln furniture from Cizao Kiln, Fujian, South China, twelfth to fourteenth century. Photo: Sharon Wong. A. Brownish-green-glazed jar sherds from Xushan. B–C. Brown-glazed jar sherds with vertical thumb-pressed lug handle or horizontal loop handle from Huzaishan. D–G. Cylindrical support, stacking ring, disk-shaped separator, and tubular support from Jinjiaoyi. A–C, E–G. Fujian Museum and Jinjiang Museum, Cizao Kilns, plates 28, 10, 111; D. Courtesy of Jinjiang Museum. Photo: Sharon Wong).

Although archaeologists could identify that the yellowish-brown-glazed appliqué dragon and phoenix jars from Nan’ao I Shipwreck were produced in the Cizao Kiln, we know very little about jar production from the early to middle period of the Ming Dynasty. The Nan’ao I Shipwreck dates back to the late Ming period (around the Jiajing to the Wanli reigns, 1522–1620) and was discovered in the sea near Nan’ao county, Shantou, Guangdong Province in 2007 and excavated between 2010 and 2012.15 It is noted that researchers from the Quanzhou Maritime History Museum conducted some archival studies and oral history investigations during the 1970s and reported that innovations in ceramic production occurred during the middle of the Ming period. According to the records of the Wu Family, who settled in Cizao Village, their ancestor Wu Fu (who was born in the Yule reign, 1403–24 CE) hired a ceramics artisan called Wu Luo from Yixing, Jiangsu to come to Cizao and teach ceramic production techniques—in particular, clay refining processes for stoneware production—to locals.16 Other examples of technique transfer include the methods for incising and carving decorations on the containers and the choice of floral and geometric motifs, which may have been inspired by Cizhou Kiln traditions in North China during the Song–Yuan period.17

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By integrating archaeological evidence from southern Fujian, Meng highlights that the Houshan Kiln in Cizao District continued production during the early to middle Ming period (the fourteen and fifteenth centuries); however, the scale of production declined and shifted from coastal to inland areas over time. The most prosperous periods of ceramic production in southern Fujian were the Song–Yuan period (eleventh to fourteenth century) and the late Ming to early Qing periods (sixteenth to seventeenth century).18 These new findings may help to justify Brown’s assumption of the Ming Gap regarding Southeast Asian ceramics (in particular Vietnamese, Thai, and Burmese wares), which were exported in response to the shortage of Chinese ceramics that began during the Ming ban on private maritime trade in the Hongwu reign (1368–98 CE). It seems that the Ming Gap accelerated the growth of ceramic production to satisfy the Southeast Asian markets dominated by Chinese ceramics during the Song–Yuan period.19 Some Song–Yuan Dynasty jars were kept or reused by villagers and merchants during the late Yuan to early Ming periods. In 2008, in the eastern Gulei Peninsula of Zhangpu County, Fujian, at the Shazhou Island Shipwreck site 200 meters from the shore, a fragment from the belly of a yellowish-brown-glazed storage jar with a floral pattern was found.20 It was discovered alongside a green-glazed jar with four lugs and a brown-glazed jar sherd bearing the stamp 異宝 (yibao), which means special treasure. This shipwreck site is believed to date back to the late Yuan or the early Ming period (fourteenth to fifteenth century) (Figure 4.5A–C/Plate 8).21 Archaeological findings from the Shazhou Island Shipwreck provide important evidence regarding the use and reuse of jars over long periods as they include a Song–Yuan jar in a ship dated to the Yuan–Ming period.

The Binh Dinh Kilns in Central Vietnam The Binh Dinh Kilns were located near the town Binh Dinh in the north of Quy Nhon port, Binh Dinh Province, Vietnam. In this area, five ceramic centers were found, including Go Sanh in An Nhon County; Truong Cuu of Tra Ban Castle in the former Champa capital (1000–1471 CE); and the Cay Me, Go Hoi, and Go Ke Kilns in Tay Son County along the Con River. Since the 1990s, Vietnamese archaeologists, along with international researchers, have been conducting archaeological investigations at the kiln complexes in Cay Quang, Cay Man, Go Hoi, and Go Sanh. Three kilns were excavated (Kilns No. 1–No. 3) at Go Sanh in An Nhon County by a joint Vietnamese–Japanese international

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research team. Kiln No. 1 can be divided into three parts: the fuel combustion chamber, ware chamber, and chimney. The kiln walls were constructed of stacks of saggars secured with clay, and square bricks were used to construct the flamedividing pillars in the fuel combustion chamber. Glazed and unglazed jar sherds with horizontal lugs were unearthed from the kilns.22 The kiln complex in Trong Cuu, An Nhon, where excavations have been conducted since 2014, can help us understand in detail the kiln technology and materials used to create products. Recently, yellowish-brown-glazed and brown-glazed appliqué dragon jar sherds dated ca. fourteenth to fifteenth century were excavated from the kilns. The

Figure 4.4  Jars and kiln furniture from Truong Cuu, Binh Dinh Kiln, Central Vietnam, ca. fourteenth to fifteenth century. Photo: Sharon Wong. A. Yellowishbrown jar with four horizontal lugs. B. Jar sherds with vertical thumb-pressed lug handles. C. Jar sherds with appliqué dragon. D–E. Cylindrical saggars and stacking rings each with five spur marks. Courtesy of Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences. Photo: Sharon Wong.

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saggars were cylindrical in shape and the stacking rings had five spur marks at the bottom (Figure 4.4/Plate 7).23 I would like to highlight three preliminary observations about the three kilns: we still have little knowledge about the system of ceramic production and the kiln technologies of the Shiwan Kilns during the Tang to Song period. Both Shiwan Kilns from the Song to Qing periods and Cizao Kilns from the Song to Qing periods also used dragon kilns for firing ceramic objects. The Binh Dinh Kilns used stacking rings with five spur marks and cylindrical saggars while the Cizao Kilns placed vessels on the surface of the fire chamber with supports, or used stacking rings, flat disk-shaped separators, cylindrical and tubular supports, and cylindrical saggars for firing (Figure 4.3/Plate 6, Figure 4.4/Plate 7). This difference in kiln furniture and stacking methods indicates that the Cizao and Binh Dinh Kilns were not engaged in extensive technological exchange. With regard to the shapes of the lugs on the jars’ shoulders, Binh Dinh Kilns may have assimilated the design of not only horizontal lugs from the Shiwan Kilns but also vertical thumb-pressed lug handles from the Cizao Kilns between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. The numbers of lugs applied at both the Shiwan and Cizao Kilns are from four to six. Molded masks or decorative appliqué figures on the lugs and rows of horizontal studs on the jars’ shoulders can be found on ceramic products from all three kilns (Figures 4.2A–B, 4.3A–B, 4.4A–C/Plates 5, 7). In the Cizao Kilns, special types of brown-glazed jar sherds with horizontal loop handles from the Song–Yuan period were found in Huzaishan, which may have inspired the design of loop handles on brownglazed jars at the Middle Si Satchanalai and Bang Rachan (Maenam Noi) Kilns in northern Thailand between the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries (Figure 4.3C/ Plate 6).24 Further detailed comparisons need to be conducted to verify this in the absence of more information from archaeological excavations on ceramic production sites in South China and Southeast Asia. The yellowish-brown jars from the Binh Dinh Kilns have reddish-orange bodies, with decorations incised through a runny mottled brown glaze. Another type of jar has appliqué dragons and a neck that forms a vertical thumb-pressed lug handle, with a reddish-gray body.25 Similar relics were unearthed in Cham Island, Hoi An, Quang Nam Province. The Cu Lao Cham Shipwreck (or Cham Island Shipwreck, ca. late fifteenth to sixteenth century) was surveyed and excavated and more than 200,000 artifacts were recovered. A brownish-yellowglazed jar with four lugs and floral medallions, with a height of 24 centimeters, a rim diameter of 8.6 centimeters, and a base diameter of 9 centimeters was excavated from the cabinet warehouse of the ship (Figure  4.5C/Plate 8).

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Figure 4.5  Jars found at shipwrecks in Fujian, Guangdong, and Vietnam. Photo: Sharon Wong. A.–C. Jar sherds found at Shazhou Island Shipwreck, Zhangpu, Fujian, fourteenth to fifteenth century. D.–E. Brown-glazed jars with appliqué phoenix and floral design from Nan’ao I Shipwreck, Shantou, Guangdong, ca. sixteenth to seventeenth century. F. Brownish-yellow-glazed jar with four lugs from Cu Lao Cham Shipwreck, Quang Nam, Vietnam, ca. late fifteenth to sixteenth century. A–C. Center for Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage, Fujian Underwater Archaeology Investigation Report, 306; D–E. Courtesy of Guangdong Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics & Archaeology; F. Vietnam National History Museum. Photo: Sharon Wong.

Jingdezhen blue-and-white porcelain and Vietnamese blue-and-white wares were also discovered.26 The jars found at the Nan’ao I Shipwreck site near Nan’ao county, Shantou, Guangdong in 2007 have been dated to around the Jiajing to the Wanli reigns

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(1522–1620 CE). Two types of jars should be highlighted. First, brown-glazed jars each with four to six vertical handles, appliqué dragons, phoenix patterns, and incised floral motifs on their bodies and a dragon- or tiger-shaped knob; second, yellowish-brown jars each with four vertical thumb-pressed lug handles, and incised persimmons, scrolled grass, waves, auspicious clouds, zigzag patterns, and strings on their bodies. Both types of jars are between 53 and 67 centimeters high with rim diameters of 16 to 18 centimeters and base measurements of 16 to 21.5 centimeters. Chinese archaeologists have speculated that these jars were produced at the Cizao Kilns in Fujian. Such jars have often been recorded on the islands of Southeast Asia, such as the Philippines and Borneo, and among private collections of hill tribes in Central Vietnam where they are passed on as heirlooms.27 These jars were used as storage vessels for carrying cargo such as sets of Jingdezhen blue-and-white cups, chess pieces, copper coins, tubular jewelry, beads, jarlets, plates, bowls, and food during inter-regional maritime voyages.28

Discussion The use of three parameters to compare the jars allows us to consider them as transcultural enclosures and transformative containers in Asia. The first parameter is the comparison between the development of jar production sites and corresponding developments in their domestic, intra-regional, and inter-regional markets. The second parameter is the comparison between the specialization and standardization of jar production systems, such as the stylistic attributes of jars, jar categories, and kiln technologies. The third parameter is the comparison between the usage and customs of jar consumption in a transnational context with reference to land and maritime archaeological evidence, ethnographic data, and historical accounts.29 The preliminary analysis presented above makes clear that jar production in South China and Central Vietnam had different development stages. The Tang–Song period witnessed mass production of ceramic jars in the Shiwan Kilns, Guangdong. These jars were then exported from the international port of Guangzhou. The ceramic tradition of stamping the jars’ shoulders with the names of Chinese workshops or kilns was a distinctive practice followed by potters in the Tang–Song period, enabling consumers to identify commodity brand names, and the formation of a guild system accelerated the specialization and standardization of jar production from the mid- to late Ming period. It is

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during the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries that jars receive more detailed classifications according to their shapes and functions and a variety of terms emerged to label different types. The surface collection from the Meitao Garden site and the Shiwan jars used as funeral objects in the Ming tombs in Guangdong district indicate that the Shiwan Kilns kept producing everyday utensils and pottery for local consumption from the Tang to the Qing period without any intervals. In southern Fujian, Quanzhou became the most important international port of China, and jars from the Cizao Kilns became popular ceramic containers used for inter-regional maritime trade between China and Southeast Asia in the Song–Yuan period. Cizao jars were reused by villagers and merchants during the late Yuan to early Ming periods, an act of jar recycling of which the jar assemblage from Shazhou Island forms a typical example. During the early to middle Ming period, the archaeological evidence indicates that although the Cizao Kilns continued production, the scale of production shrank to quantities suitable for domestic markets only. The next prosperous time was during the late Ming to early Qing periods (sixteenth and seventeenth centuries). Jars from the Nan’ao I Shipwreck provide strong evidence of sophisticated craftsmanship, jar production, and the practice of reusing jars to carry goods meant for interregional markets. As mentioned above, in response to the Ming Dynasty’s policies prohibiting its subjects from going to sea as well as policies regarding the tribute trade, kilns in Southeast Asia increased their ceramic production in the early Ming period (fourteenth to fifteenth centuries). Besides Maenam Noi Kiln’s brownish-black glazed jar products, Sukhothai’s iron-painted wares, Si Satchanalai’s celadon wares, and northern Vietnamese blue-and-white wares, the glazed jars from the Binh Dinh Kilns in Central Vietnam deserve special mention due to their importance in inter-regional maritime trading networks. Vijaya in Binh Dinh Province was the capital of the Champa Kingdom, and ceramic production at the Binh Dinh Kilns increased in the local and Southeast Asian markets via the Quy Nhon port between the fourteenth and the late fifteenth centuries.30 The major jar products include yellow-glazed jars with a floral design, yellowish-brownglazed jars with appliqué flowers, and brown-glazed jars with appliqué dragon patterns. The Binh Dinh Kilns seem to have taken over the role of the Cizao Kilns in Fujian to satisfy Southeast Asian consumer demand until the end of the fifteenth century when the territory was under the control of the Vietnamese Vijara Kingdom (1471–1692 CE). The yellowish-brown jar found in the Cham Island Shipwreck and other Binh Dinh ceramic findings in the Philippines,

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Thailand, Brunei, and Indonesia provide evidence of intra-regional trading from Central Vietnam.31 For the domestic market, both ethnographic data and Chinese historical accounts shed light on jar usage in communal gatherings by the hill tribes. These ceramic containers featured floral ornaments and dragon decorations; bamboo straws were used for drinking. This brings us back full circle to the Records of Tributes from the West Sea and the Investigations of Eastern and Western Oceans cited at the beginning of this chapter. As the sixteenthand seventeenth-century texts by Huang Shengceng and Zhang Xie illustrate, knowledge about Vietnamese usages of (Chinese) jars was accessible to Ming Dynasty readers at that time; through an increasing amount of archaeological evidence, it has recently become more accessible than ever to us, too, and will remain important to local and global studies of trade, consumption, and ceramics craftsmanship.

Notes 1

2 3

[Ming] Huang Shengzeng (proofreading and comments: Xie Fang), Xiyang Chaogong Dianlu (Records of Tributes from the Western Ocean Countries) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982), 1–3, 6. The English translations were extracted from Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “The Maritime Ceramic Routes between South China and Southeast Asia from the 15th to the 17th Centuries: Using Storage Jars in the Archaeological Site at Penny’s Bay, Lantau, Hong Kong and the Nanao I Shipwreck in Guangdong as Examples,” in East Meets West: Maritime Silk Routes in the 13th–18th Centuries, ed. Hong Kong Maritime Museum (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Maritime Museum, 2018), 131. [Ming] Zhang Xie (proofreading and comments: Xie Fang), Dongxiyang Kao (Investigations of Eastern and Western Oceans) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), 24. Monographs and books including Sumarah Adhyatman and Lammas Cheng, Martavans in Indonesia (Jakarta: Himpunan Keramik Indonesia, 1977); Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky (eds.), Chigusa and the Art of Tea (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2014); Barbara Harrisson, Pusaka: Heirloom Jars of Borneo (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1986); Borbala Nyiri, “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space: Martabani Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, East Malaysia” (PhD diss., University of Leicester, UK, 2017); Cynthia Ongpin Valdes, Kerry Nguyen Long, and Artemio C. Barbosa, A Thousand Years of Stoneware Jars in the Philippines (Manila: Jar Collectors Philippines, 1992). Research articles such as Brigitte Borell, “A True Martaban Jar: A Burmese Ceramic Jar in the Ethnological

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5 6

7

8

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Museum in Heidelberg, Germany,” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 2 (2014): 257–97; Stephen Dueppen, “Temporal Variability in Southeast Asian Dragon Jars: A Case from the Philippines,” Asian Perspectives 52, no. 1 (2013): 75–118; Peter Grave and Michael Maccheroni, “Characterizing Asian Stoneware Jar Production at the Transition to the Early Modern Period, 1550–1650,” in Scientific Research on Historic Asian Ceramics: Proceedings of the Fourth Forbes Symposium at the Freer Gallery of Art, ed. Blythe McCarthy et al. (London, Archetype Publications; Washington, DC, Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, 2009), 186–204; Tom Harrisson, “Dusun Jars from Mayfair and Friesland through Cairo to Sabah,” Sarawak Museum Journal 12 (25–6) (1965): 69–74; Carla M. Sinopoli, Stephen Dueppen, Robert Brubaker et al., “Characterizing the Stoneware ‘Dragon Jars’ in the Guthe Collection: Chemical, Decorative, and Formal Patterning,” Asian Perspectives 45, no. 2 (2006): 240–82; Zhao Bing, “The Production of Storage Jars in China and Southeast Asia: A Vibrant but Little-Known Artisanal Practice,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 259–65. John N. Miksic and Goh Geok Yian, “Spheres of Ceramic Exchange in Southeast Asia, Ninth to Sixteenth Centuries CE,” in The Routledge Handbook of Archaeology and Globalization, ed. Tamar Hodos, Alexander Geurds, Paul Lane, et al. (London: Routledge, 2016), 810–14. Li Qingxin, The Overseas Maritime Policies in Ming Dynasty (Mingdai Haiwai Maoyi Zhidu) (Beijing: Social Sciences Academic Press, 2007), 312–16. Foshan Museum, “Investigation of Shiwan Ancient Kilns, Guangdong,” Kaogu (Archaeology) 3 (1978): 195–9; Guangdong Provincial Museum, “The Preliminary Study on the Relationships Between Foshan Shiwan and Yangjiang Shiwan Ancient Kilns,” in Exhibition of Shiwan Wares, ed. Fung Ping Shan Museum, University of Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Fung Ping Shan Museum, University of Hong Kong, 1979), 119–67; Huang Xiaohui, “On the Historical Transition and Product Characteristics of Ancient Shiwan Kiln,” Journal of Foshan University (Social Science Edition), 36, no. 2 (2018): 12–19. Zeng Guangyi, “The Origin and Development of the Shiwan Kiln,” in Shiwan Art Pottery, ed. The Compiling Committee of Shiwan Art Pottery, Vol. 13 (Guangzhou: Lingnan Art Publishing House, 1987), 19. Guangdong Provincial Cultural Bureau (ed.), An Altas of Chinese Cultural Relics (Guangdong) (Guangzhou: Guangdongsheng ditu chubanshe, 1989), 396, 400; Guangdong Provincial Museum, “The Preliminary Study,” 122–4; Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “Preliminary Study on Shiwan Kilns Stamped Storage Jars in Hong Kong and Guangzhou,” in Chinese Ancient Kilns Series: Shiwan Kilns, ed. Beijing Art Museum, Vol. 15 (Beijing: Zhongguo Huaqiao chubanshe, 2018), 414; Fredrikke Skinsnes Scollard, “A Study of Shiwan Pottery” (PhD diss., University of Hong Kong, 1981), 43–5, Retrieved from http://dx.doi.org/10.5353/th_b312299843-45.

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  9 Personal communication with Foshan Museum; Wang Jianling, “The New Discovery of Shiwan Kiln and its Significance,” Journal of Foshan University (Social Science Edition), 29, no. 2 (2011): 49–54; Huang, “On the Historical Transition,” 12–19. ­10 Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 345. 11 Zhang Weichi, Guangdong Shiwan Pottery (Guangdong Shiwan taoqi) (Guangzhou: Guangdong renmin chubanshe, 1957), 8–14. 12 Zhang, Guangdong Shiwan Pottery, 12–13, 22–4; Foshan Ceramics Industry & Trade Group Company (ed.), Bulletin of Foshan Ceramic Industries (Guangzhou: Guangdong keji chubanshe, 1991), 42–5; Li Yanjuan and Liu Menghan, “The Simple and Utilitarian Shiwan Kiln Daily Potteries,” in Chinese Ancient Kilns Series: Shiwan Kilns, ed. Beijing Art Museum, Vol. 15 (Beijing: Zhongguo Huaqiao chubanshe, 2018), 422–3. 13 Also see the discussion in Jiří Jákl’s chapter in this volume. 14 Fujian Museum and Jinjiang Museum (eds.), Cizao Kilns: Fujian Jinjiang Cizao Kilns Archaeological Investigation and Excavation Report (Beijing: Science Press, 2011), 20–8, 60–364, 388; Chen Peng, Huang Tianzhu, and Huang Baoling, “Fujian Jinjiang Cizao Ancient Kilns,” Kaogu (Archaeology) 5 (1982): 490–4; Ye Wencheng, Research Articles Collection of Chinese Ancient Export Ceramic Studies (Beijing: Zijingcheng chubanshe, 1988), 202–3; Meng Yuanzhao, Research on Archaeological Remains of Porcelain Industry in Minnan Area from the Song to Qing Period (Beijing: Wenwu Chubanshe, 2017), 210; Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “A Case Report on the Function(s) of the ‘Mercury Jar’: Fort Canning, Singapore, in the 14th Century,” Archaeological Research in Asia 7 (2016): 10–17. 15 Wong Wai-yee, “The Maritime Ceramic Routes,” 129. 16 Fujian Province Investigation Team of Quanzhou Maritime History Museum, “Notes on Jinjiang County Cizao Ceramic History Investigation,” Maritime History Studies (Haijiaoshi yanjiu) 2 (1980): 30, 33–4; Chen et al., “Fujian Jinjiang Cizao Ancient Kilns,” 490–4. 17 Meng, Research on Archaeological Remains, 210; Anne Gerritsen, “Dreams of Transformation: A Fourteenth-Century Flask from Cizhou” chapter in the present volume. 18 Meng, Research on Archaeological Remains, 190–4. 19 About the “Ming Gap” hypothesis, see Tom Harrisson, “‘Ming Gap’ and Kota Batu, Brunei (with appeal for help),” The Sarawak Museum Journal 8(11)/ (26) (1958): 273–7; Roxanna Brown, The Ming Gap and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware (Bangkok: The Siam Society, 2009), 27–31.

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20 Serial no. Shazhou Island: 11. 21 Center for Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage (State Administration of Cultural Heritage), National Museum of China, Fujian Museum & Cultural Relics and Archaeology Team (Fuzhou) (eds.), Fujian Coastal Underwater Archaeology Investigation Report (1989–2010) (Beijing: Wenwu Chubanshe, 2017), 305. 22 Roxanna Brown, The Ceramics of South-East Asia: Their Dating and Identification, 2nd ed. (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1989), 36–9; Aoyagi Yoji and Hasebe Gakuji, Champa Ceramics: Production and Trade, Excavation Report of the Go Sanh Kiln Sites in Central Vietnam (Tokyo: Study Group of the Go Sanh Sites in Central Vietnam, 2002); Allison I. Diem, “The Significance of Pandanan Shipwreck Ceramics as Evidence of Fifteenth Century Trading Relations within Southeast Asia,” Bulletin of the Oriental Ceramic Society of Hong Kong 12 (2002): 28–36; Allison I. Diem, “The Significance of Ceramic Evidence for Assessing Contacts between Vijaya and Other Southeast Asian Polities in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries CE,” in The Cham of Vietnam History, Society and Art, ed. Tran Ky Phuong and Bruce M. Lockhart (Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2011), 204–37; Dinh Ba Hoa, Champa Ancient Ceramics in Binh Dinh (Hanoi: Social Sciences Publishing House, 2008). 23 Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences and Institute of Imperial Citadel Studies,“International Conference Proceedings of “Binh Dinh Ancient Ceramics— Vijaya Kingdom and its Relationship with Thang Long Citadel—Dai Viet (11th– 15th Centuries) Quy Nhon, Vietnam,” 2017 (unpublished). 24 Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “Southeast Asian Ceramics Found in Penny’s Bay, Hong Kong: Important Evidence of Exchange between China and Southeast Asia,” Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum Newsletter, 8, no. 2 (2014–15): 3–4. 25 Brown, Ceramics of South-East Asia, 36–9, plates 22–3. 26 Nguyen Dinh Chien and Pham Quoc Quan, Ceramics on Five Shipwrecks off the Coast of Vietnam (Hanoi: National Museum of Vietnamese History, 2008), 188; Museum of Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology of Guangxi Province and Vietnam National History Museum, Heritage of Maritime Silk Road—Shipwreck Chinawares in Vietnam (Beijing: Science Press, 2009), 54, 248. 27 Brown, Ceramics of South-East Asia, plate 22. 28 Guangdong Provincial Museum (ed.), Sailing the Seven Seas: Legend of Ming Maritime Trade during Wanli Era (Guangzhou: Lingnan Meishu Chubanshe, 2015); Guangdong Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology, Guangdong Museum and Center for Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage, State Administration of Cultural Heritage (eds.), Gu fan yi zhen: “Nan’ao No.1” Chushui jingpin wenwu tulu (Beijing: Science Press, 2014).

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29 The comparative framework of jar production in Asia was inspired by Cathy Lynne Costin, “Production and Exchange of Ceramics,” in Empire and Domestic Economy, ed. T. D’Altroy, C. Hastorf and Associates. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers, 2001), 203–5. ­30 Li, 278–83, 101–14; Li Jinming, “Ban on Overseas Trades and Development of Trades with Southeast Asia at the Beginning of the Ming Dynasty,” in Maritime Silk Road Studies 2 China and Southeast Asia, ed. Chen Dasheng, Qu Hong liang and Wang Lianmao (Fuzhou: Fujian Education Publishing House, 1999), 115–16; John K. Whitmore, “Van Don, the ‘Mạc Gap,’ and the End of the Jiaozhi Ocean System: Trade and State in Đại Việt, Circa 1450–1550,” in The Tongking Gulf Through History, ed. Nola Cooke, Li Tana, and James A. Anderson (Singapore: The Institute of Southeast Asian Studies Press, 2013), 109–13. 31 Miksic and Yian, “Spheres of Ceramic Exchange,” 824; Diem, “The Significance of Ceramic Evidence,” 215–19.

Bibliography Adhyatman, Sumarah and Cheng Lammas. Martavans in Indonesia. Jakarta: Himpunan Keramik Indonesia, 1977. Aoyagi, Yoji and Gakuji Hasebe. Champa Ceramics: Production and Trade, Excavation Report of the Go Sanh Kiln Sites in Central Vietnam. Tokyo: Study Group of the Go Sanh Sites in Central Vietnam, 2002. Borell, Brigitte. “A True Martaban Jar: A Burmese Ceramic Jar in the Ethnological Museum in Heidelberg, Germany.” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 2 (2014): 257–97. Brown, Roxanna. The Ceramics of South-East Asia: Their Dating and Identification, 2nd ed. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1989. Brown, Roxanna. The Ming Gap and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware. Bangkok: The Siam Society, 2009. Center for Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage (State Administration of Cultural Heritage), National Museum of China, Fujian Museum & Cultural Relics and Archaeology Team (Fuzhou), eds. Fujian Coastal Underwater Archaeology Investigation Report (1989–2010). Beijing: Wenwu Chubanshe, 2017. Chen, Peng, Huang Tianzhu, and Huang Baoling. “Fujian Jinjiang Cizao Ancient Kilns.” Kaogu (Archaeology) 5 (1982): 490–8, 489. Cort, Louise Allison and Andrew M. Watsky, eds. Chigusa and the Art of Tea. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2014. Costin, Cathy Lynne. “Production and Exchange of Ceramics.” In Empire and Domestic Economy, edited by T. D’Altroy, C. Hastorf and Associates, 203–42. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers, 2001.

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Diem, Allison I. “The Significance of Pandanan Shipwreck Ceramics as Evidence of Fifteenth Century Trading Relations within Southeast Asia.” Bulletin of the Oriental Ceramic Society of Hong Kong (BOCSHK) 12 (2002): 28–36. ­Diem, Allison I. “The Significance of Ceramic Evidence for Assessing Contacts between Vijaya and Other Southeast Asian Polities in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries CE.” In The Cham of Vietnam History, Society and Art, edited by Tran Ky Phuong and Bruce M. Lockhart, 204–37. Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2011. Dinh, Ba Hoa. Champa Ancient Ceramics in Binh Dinh. Hanoi: Social Sciences Publishing House, 2008. Dueppen, Stephen. “Temporal Variability in Southeast Asian Dragon Jars: A Case from the Philippines.” Asian Perspectives 52, no. 1 (2013): 75–118. Foshan Ceramics Industry & Trade Group Company, ed. Bulletin of Foshan Ceramic Industries. Guangzhou: Guangdong keji chubanshe, 1991. Foshan Museum. “Investigation of Shiwan Ancient Kilns, Guangdong.” Kaogu (Archaeology) 3 (1978): 195–9. Fujian Museum and Jinjiang Museum, eds. Cizao Kilns: Fujian Jinjiang Cizao Kilns Archaeological Investigation and Excavation Report. Beijing: Science Press, 2011. Fujian Province Investigation Team of Quanzhou Maritime History Museum. “Notes on Jinjiang County Cizao Ceramic History Investigation.” Maritime History Studies (Haijiaoshi yanjiu) 2 (1980): 29–34. Grave, Peter and Michael Maccheroni. “Characterizing Asian Stoneware Jar Production at the Transition to the Early Modern Period, 1550–1650.” In Scientific Research on Historic Asian Ceramics: Proceedings of the Fourth Forbes Symposium at the Freer Gallery of Art, edited by Blythe McCarthy et al., 186–204. London: Archetype Publications; Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, 2009. Guangdong Provincial Cultural Bureau, ed. An Altas of Chinese Cultural Relics (Guangdong). Guangzhou: Guangdongsheng ditu chubanshe, 1989. Guangdong Provincial Museum. “The Preliminary Study on the Relationships Between Foshan Shiwan and Yangjiang Shiwan Ancient Kilns.” In Exhibition of Shiwan Wares, edited by Fung Ping Shan Museum, University of Hong Kong. Hong Kong: Fung Ping Shan Museum University of Hong Kong, 1979. Guangdong Provincial Museum (ed.). Sailing the Seven Seas: Legend of Ming Maritime Trade during Wanli Era. Guangzhou: Lingnan Meishu Chubanshe, 2015. Guangdong Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology, Guangdong Museum and Center for Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage, State Administration of Cultural Heritage, eds. Gu fan yi zhen: “Nan’ao No.1” Chushui jingpin wenwu tulu. Beijing: Science Press, 2014. Harrisson, Barbara. Pusaka: Heirloom Jars of Borneo. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1986. Harrisson, Tom. “‘Ming Gap’ and Kota Batu, Brunei (with appeal for help).” The Sarawak Museum Journal 8 (11)/(26) (1958): 273–7.

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Harrisson, Tom. “Dusun Jars from Mayfair and Friesland through Cairo to Sabah.” Sarawak Museum Journal 12 (25–6) (1965): 69–74. ­[Ming] Huang, Shengzeng (proofreading and comments: Xie Fang). Xiyang Chaogong Dianlu (Records of Tributes from the Western Ocean Countries). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982. Huang, Xiaohui. “On the Historical Transition and Product Characteristics of Ancient Shiwan Kiln.” Journal of Foshan University (Social Science Edition) 36, no. 2 (2018): 12–19. Li, Jinming. 1999. “Ban on Overseas Trades and Development of Trades with Southeast Asia at the Beginning of the Ming Dynasty.” In Maritime Silk Road Studies 2 China and Southeast Asia, edited by Chen Dasheng, Qu Hong liang, and Wang Lianmao, 114–21. Fuzhou: Fujian Education Publishing House, 1999. Li, Qingxin. The Overseas Maritime Policies in Ming Dynasty (Mingdai Haiwai Maoyi Zhidu). Beijing: Social Sciences Academic Press, 2007. Li, Yanjuan and Liu, Menghan. “The Simple and Utilitarian Shiwan Kiln Daily Potteries.” In Chinese Ancient Kilns Series: Shiwan Kilns, edited by Beijing Art Museum, Vol. 15, 420–8. Beijing: Zhongguo Huaqiao chubanshe, 2018. Meng, Yuanzhao. Research on Archaeological Remains of Porcelain Industry in Minnan Area from the Song to Qing Period. Beijing: Wenwu Chubanshe, 2017. Miksic, John N. and Goh Geok Yian. “Spheres of Ceramic Exchange in Southeast Asia, Ninth to Sixteenth Centuries CE.” In The Routledge Handbook of Archaeology and Globalization, edited by Tamar Hodos, Alexander Geurds, Paul Lane, Ian Lilley, Martin Pitts, Gideon Shelach, Miriam Stark, and Miguel John Versluys, 808–31. London: Routledge, 2016. Museum of Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology of Guangxi Province and Vietnam National History Museum. Heritage of Maritime Silk Road—Shipwreck Chinawares in Vietnam. Beijing: Science Press, 2009. Nyiri, Borbala. “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space: Martabani Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, East Malaysia.” PhD diss., University of Leicester, UK, 2017. Nguyen, Dinh Chien and Pham Quoc Quan. Ceramics on Five Shipwrecks off the Coast of Vietnam. Hanoi: National Museum of Vietnamese History, 2008. Scollard, Fredrikke Skinsnes. “A Study of Shiwan Pottery.” PhD diss., University of Hong Kong, 1981, http://dx.doi.org/10.5353/th_b312299843-45. Sinopoli, Carla M., Stephen Dueppen, Robert Brubaker, Christophe Descantes, Michael D. Glascock, Will Griffin, Hector Neff, Rasmi Shoocongdej and Robert J. Speakman. “Characterizing the Stoneware ‘Dragon Jars’ in the Guthe Collection: Chemical, Decorative, and Formal Patterning.” Asian Perspectives 45, no. 2 (2006): 240–82. Valdes, Cynthia Ongpin, Kerry Nguyen Long, and Artemio C. Barbosa. A Thousand Years of Stoneware Jars in the Philippines. Manila: Jar Collectors Philippines, 1992.

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Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences and Institute of Imperial Citadel Studies. “International Conference Proceedings of “Binh Dinh Ancient Ceramics—Vijaya Kingdom and its Relationship with Thang Long Citadel—Dai Viet (11th–15th Centuries). Quy Nhon, Vietnam,” 2017 (unpublished). Wang, Jianling. “The New Discovery of Shiwan Kiln and its Significance.” Journal of Foshan University (Social Science Edition) 29, no. 2 (2011): 49–56, 69. Whitmore, John K. “Van Don, the ‘Mạc Gap,’ and the End of the Jiaozhi Ocean System: Trade and State in Đại Việt, Circa 1450–1550.” In The Tongking Gulf Through History, edited by Nola Cooke, Li Tana, and James A. Anderson, 101–16. Singapore: The Institute of Southeast Asian Studies Press, 2013. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “Southeast Asian Ceramics Found in Penny’s Bay, Hong Kong: Important Evidence of Exchange between China and Southeast Asia.” Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum Newsletter 8, no. 2 (2014–15): 1–4. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “A Case Report on the Function(s) of the ‘Mercury Jar’: Fort Canning, Singapore, in the 14th Century.” Archaeological Research in Asia 7 (2016): 10–17. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 333–58. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “The Maritime Ceramic Routes between South China and Southeast Asia from the 15th to the 17th Centuries: Using Storage Jars in the Archaeological Site at Penny’s Bay, Lantau, Hong Kong and the Nanao I Shipwreck in Guangdong as Examples.” In East Meets West: Maritime Silk Routes in the 13th–18th Centuries, edited by Libby Chan Lai-Pik, 122–32. Hong Kong: Hong Kong Maritime Museum, 2018. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “Preliminary Study on Shiwan Kilns Stamped Storage Jars in Hong Kong and Guangzhou.” In Chinese Ancient Kilns Series: Shiwan Kilns, edited by Beijing Art Museum, Vol. 15, 414–19. Beijing: Zhongguo Huaqiao chubanshe, 2018. Ye, Wencheng. Research Articles Collection of Chinese Ancient Export Ceramic Studies (Zhongguo guwaixiaoci yanjiu lunwenji). Beijing: Zijingcheng chubanshe, 1988. Zeng, Guangyi. “The Origin and Development of the Shiwan Kiln.” In Shiwan Art Pottery (Shiwan yishu taoqi), edited by The Compiling Committee of Shiwan Art Pottery, 12–22. Guangzhou: Lingnan Art Publishing House, 1987. Zhang, Weichi. Guangdong Shiwan Pottery (Guangdong Shiwan taoqi). Guangzhou: Guangdong renmin chubanshe, 1957. [Ming] Zhang, Xie (proofreading and comments: Xie Fang). Dongxiyang Kao (Investigations of Eastern and Western Oceans). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981. Zhao, Bing. “The Production of Storage Jars in China and Southeast Asia: A Vibrant but Little-Known Artisanal Practice.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 259–65.

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For Oil, Date Syrup, and the Tomb of a Chinese Queen: The Reciprocal Trade in Chinese and West Asian Jars in the Late Tang/Early Abbasid Period Eva Ströber

This chapter examines the role of jars in maritime trade around the China Sea and the Indian Ocean during the eighth to the tenth centuries and takes us to Basra in the Persian Gulf and Kilwa in present-day Tanzania, to Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and Japan. It focuses in particular on sites where we find both Chinese and Middle Eastern ceramics alongside each other, forming evidence of entangled itineraries of material exchange across Eurasia.1 In this period, a premodern, global maritime trade network connected the lands of West Asia with China. It was built up mainly by Persian and Arab merchants, reaching its height during the early Abbasid empire (750–1258). From many excavations of sites along the sea routes between China and West Asia as well as from shipwrecks, numerous jars made in the kilns in the southern Chinese province of Guangdong in the late Tang Dynasty (618–907) have been discovered. Large container jars for maritime trade were also produced at the other end of the route, in the Persian Gulf, mainly in the town of Basra in contemporary Iraq (Figure 5.1/Plate 9). That both types of jars were found on sites along the maritime trade routes is evidence not only of the well-known network of trade in Chinese goods during the late Tang period, particularly in silk and ceramics, but also of the important role of maritime trade in the Middle East in the early Islamic period. Like the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea created an interconnected world.2 In this chapter, I will focus on two main topics. First, I examine West Asian jars found on archaeological sites along the maritime trade routes. I see them With many thanks to Aafke, Lukas, Roderick, and Xiao Mao.

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Figure 5.1  Storage jar, Iraq, probably Basra, eighth to ninth century. Ashmolean Museum, EA2005.85. Copyright: Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

as evidence of an extended and powerful seaborne trade network, dominated by Persians and Arabs, reaching from the Middle East to the coasts of Africa, India, Sri Lanka, Southeast Asia, the Indonesian Archipelago, China, and Japan. Second, I explore the use of Chinese as well as Middle Eastern jars for the storage and transportation of commodities on ships, asking what kind of trade commodities were transported in these jars. Of particular interest in this context are two Chinese jars with inscriptions in old Persian scripts, housed today in the collection of the Princessehof Museum at Leeuwarden in the Netherlands. Ultimately, I hope that further analysis of the respective contents of Chinese and West Asian jars that circulated on the maritime trade routes between China and the Middle East will advance our understanding of the exchange and reciprocal influences of the material cultures of the two empires dominating the East in the eighth to the tenth centuries, the Chinese and early Abbasid empires.

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Historical Setting The first half of the Tang Dynasty was largely a period of progress and stability. It marked China’s engagement in maritime trade, initiated during the second half of the eighth century and rapidly developed in the ninth and tenth centuries. Chinese cargoes were shipped to many locations along the Nanhai 南海 (Southern Sea) route or Maritime Silk Road.3 The trade routes connected the coast of southern China with Island Southeast Asia (mainly Sumatra and Java), Southeast Asia with the Persian Gulf, and West Asia with East Africa. The development of new trade routes was encouraged by the Chinese, but also by Persia. Trade with China was traditionally conducted on the overland Silk Road through Central Asia. The court of the Persian Sasanians (224–651) had sent official envoys to China on numerous occasions and created the infrastructure for trade within the empire and for international trade. When trade with the Romans deteriorated, Persian traders increasingly looked for alternatives to the overland routes to China, the land of silk and ceramics they highly valued. Maritime trade therefore became more important. In the seventh century, with new advances in rigging technology and celestial navigation, Persians successfully mastered the long seaborne journey connecting East Africa to China. From the ports in the Persian Gulf, ships of many nations set sail operated by Persian-speaking crews. Persian was the lingua franca in the Indian Ocean region. When the Arab Muslims conquered Iran and Iraq and founded the Abbasid caliphate in 750, they further consolidated and expanded the economic system of large-scale seaborne trade. The concentration of a rich consumer market in Baghdad, the new capital, and other big cities in the Gulf stimulated this trade.4 Muslim merchant communities, mostly with Arab roots and of considerable size, were established in India, Sri Lanka, Champa, the Indonesian Archipelago, and China. The great geographical divisions of the Indian Ocean and the China Sea gradually diminished during this period.5 Tang China initially welcomed this overseas trade and in Guangzhou and other ports in southern China the foreign population increased rapidly. The most populous settler communities were non-Muslim Persians. They were referred to as bosi 波斯 and included Zoroastrians, Manichaeans, Nestorian Christians, and Jews. The Chinese name for the Arabs or Muslims in Persia and Central Asia was dashi 大食.6 During this time, a series of violent revolts and uprisings diminished the power of China’s central government. Over the course of the ninth century it withdrew from actively supporting this overseas trade. When

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Arab and Persian pirates raided warehouses in Guangzhou in 758, the Chinese responded with large-scale massacres of Arab, Persian, and Jewish merchants in Guangzhou and Yangzhou. The more than 120,000 victims in Yangzhou alone are evidence of the strong presence of foreign, mostly West Asian, merchants in this prosperous city.7 The harbor of Guangzhou shut down to foreign trade and ships thereafter docked at Hanoi; many Persians and Arabs fled Guangzhou to the Southeast Asian archipelago, especially Java and Sumatra, and settled there. The Abbasid Arabs used the withdrawal of the Chinese to take over the trade of the South China seas and eventually dominated the trading scene. Even Chinese goods were sent from China in Arab vessels. Eventually, the Abbasid empire and its prosperity weakened and its engagement with international trade declined significantly by the ninth and tenth centuries.

Jars Produced in the Kilns of Chaozhou in Guangdong Province and Other Kilns During the late Tang Dynasty, container jars were produced in southern China in a number of kilns, particularly in the province of Guangdong. The most common types were the jars produced in the kilns of Chaozhou, situated along the Han river in the easternmost part of Guangdong Province. Chaozhou wares were transported down the river to the port of Chaozhou. This port was an entrepôt for Nanhai trade, located between the most important international ports of Guangzhou in Guangdong and Fuzhou and Quanzhou in Fujian. Great quantities of ceramics, along with other trade goods, were exported from Chaozhou. The Chaozhou Kilns originated in the Tang Dynasty and their products formed an important part of export wares during the Tang period and the Song Dynasty (960–1279).8 Thickly potted storage jars were made of light-colored clay, between 50 and 80 centimeters high and of ovoid shape. The production of jars of this size required a high standard of technology and craftsmanship. The finely crackled brownish or olive-green glaze, which adheres unevenly to the body, gives a mottled effect. This glaze consists of a mixture of limestone with wood ash as a flux; jars were dip glazed, the glaze ending in an uneven border at the lower body. The interior, however, is completely glazed. Most jars have four or six vertical lug handles on the shoulders. There is also a smaller type of jar with a globe shape, sometimes with a small short spout. Other kilns in Guangdong Province where green-glazed jars or shards of jars comparable to the Chaozhou type were excavated are the Meixian Kilns, which,

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like the Chaozhou Kilns, were located at the Han river, the Guanchong Kilns in Xinhui, and the Dagangshan Kilns in Gaoming in the Pearl River Delta area.9 As Guangdong Province with the port of Guangzhou was the main entrepôt for maritime trade, it was in the kilns of this province that most of the storage jars for international trade were produced during the Tang Dynasty. Jars made in the province of Guangdong were not only used for maritime trade, but also served as burial objects. Several of these jars have been unearthed in tombs in Guangdong Province. According to Chinese traditional belief, the deceased had to be provided with everything they had enjoyed in life and needed in the afterlife.10 The earliest dated jar of the Chaozhou type found in a funerary context was discovered in 1960 in the tomb of the high ranking official and famous poet Zhang Jiuling (678–740). His tomb was built in 741 in Shaoguan, Guangdong Province, not far from the kilns of Chaozhou.11 The tomb of Liu Cheng, dated 958 and excavated in Guangzhou, also had Chaozhou-type jars. It is reported that a black burnished jar from Guangdong, probably made in Chaozhou, contained chicken bones, fish bones, and clam shells.12 We can therefore assume that Chaozhou-type jars were used in southern China as burial objects for the storage of food and other offerings for the deceased.

Turquoise-Glazed Jars Produced in Basra in the Persian Gulf During the eighth and ninth centuries, Chinese ceramics and porcelain were shipped in significant quantities to the Middle East. They circulated throughout the Abbasid empire in the first decades of the ninth century and the Abbasid caliph Harun al Rashid (r. 786–809) allegedly possessed great quantities at his court. Potters of the Persian Gulf region tried to imitate Chinese porcelain but were not able to replicate it: they had excellent clay, but no kaolin. The kilns in the region therefore produced earthenware pottery, covered it with a creamy white tin glaze and painted it with copper green and blue cobalt pigments.13 Local ceramics around the Persian Gulf evolved from the ancient Mesopotamian tradition. Jars made using a rather simple technique were produced in kilns in the Upper Euphrates from the Parthian period (238 BCE–226 CE) and production continued, with some subtle changes in shape and design, into the Sasanian and through the Abbasid periods.14 In the ninth century, however, a new, distinctive type of large, turquoise-glazed storage jar with elaborate appliqué decoration emerged. The usually thick glazes were of alkaline composition with soda or lime as a flux, tinted turquoise

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with the addition of copper. Bright turquoise glazes, known for around 6,000 years, were used on Egyptian faience. These large jars, often of impressive sizes between 80 and 100 centimeters in height, were thrown in two sections and joined in the middle. They came mainly in two shapes: with the neck and body at a sharp angle and two handles, and as variations of the classical Greek or Roman amphora with a pointed base. The pointed base facilitated transport by ship, where the jars could be packed upright held by a rack-like construction. Most of the turquoise-glazed jars made in the Persian Gulf region have decorations of geometric and vegetal patterns applied on their shoulders and bodies. This type of pattern appeared in the ninth century as a distinct form of decoration in early Abbasid Islamic architecture, first in the molded stucco surface of the palaces in Samarra, the royal capital. It was also used in other media like wood, metal, and ceramics and is often referred to as beveled style. On turquoise-glazed jars, this design often has button-like ornamentation and guilloche bands, imitating braided ribbons that can form semi-circular arcs in the center of the body, as well as spiral and rosette patterns. Chemical analysis of the materials of the jars, the clay and the glazes, would suggest that the town of Basra, in contemporary Iraq, was one of the main production centers of large turquoise-glazed jars.15 In the following passages, I will therefore refer to jars of this type as Basra jars. Basra was the main port on the Tigris river and led to the Abbasid capitals Samarra and Baghdad. Large turquoise jars were probably distributed from Basra and Ṡiraf across Asia by local traders.

Sites of Excavations of Chinese and West Asian Jars along the Nanhai Route and the Indian Ocean Most archaeological sites along the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea where Chinese jars dating to the late Tang Dynasty have been excavated have yielded fragments of turquoise-glazed Basra pottery, including jars and jar fragments. The occurrence of West Asian Islamic ceramics serves as evidence of an increase in traffic between the Persian Gulf and China in the ninth and tenth centuries. The following journey to places where storage jars and fragments were recovered starts in Ṡiraf, the most important site on the Persian Gulf, follows the maritime trade routes to Sri Lanka and the Southeast Asian archipelago and ends in the southern provinces of China.16 Two outposts of the trade network should also be mentioned: sites excavated on the East Coast of Africa and, at the other end of the route, Japan.

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Chinese Jars Found in Ṡiraf Late Tang ceramics have been found in great quantities in the ports and cities around the Persian Gulf.17 Ṡiraf was the richest entrepôt on the Persian side of the Gulf. The town was situated in the center of a maritime exchange network, which, during the eighth to the tenth centuries, spread even to remote parts of the Indian Ocean.18 Ṡiraf owed its prosperity to Eastern trade. The rich and large cities of Baghdad, Shiraz, and Samarra were the most important markets. The decline of Ṡiraf began in the first half of the tenth century. The town was destroyed by an earthquake in 977 and never recovered. The only fort-like structure, partly concealed and therefore preserved, was the Great Mosque, built around 803/4. Excavations took place between 1966 and 1973 with finds of over three million pieces of pottery, among them hundreds of fragments of Chinese jars buried beneath the floor of the mosque. By far the most common type was the olive-glazed Chaozhou jar.19

Chinese and Basra Jars Found in Sri Lanka Moving further eastward, Sri Lanka was one of the central meeting points of ancient sea routes in the Indian Ocean where we find both Basra as well as Chinese wares. Chinese as well as Persian and Arab merchants were trading on this island. Sino-Sri Lankan relations go back to the Han Dynasty. During the reign of the Anuradhapura Kingdom (33 BCE–1017 CE) in the fifth century, the Buddhist monk Faxian spent two years in Sri Lanka. During the Tang Dynasty, Buddhist influence, as well as economic exchange, flourished. It is therefore not surprising that large numbers of ancient Chinese ceramics were found in Sri Lanka, evidence of close commercial and religious relations with China. Mantai, situated on the eastern tip of the island, was another important port on the Nanhai and Indian Ocean routes. It served as a vital entrepôt for longdistance shipping, situated halfway between China and the Middle East and between Sri Lanka and India. Already under the Sasanians, a Persian merchant colony was established here. Known as the Island of Rubies, it was here Persian merchants acquired the highly sought-after gems in exchange for Persian horses. The excavations in Mantai reflect the presence of a multicultural society and premodern global trade. Numerous fragments of Chinese ceramics dated to the late Tang Dynasty have been discovered, as well as Xing, Ding, Changsha, and Yue wares dated from the ninth to the tenth centuries. Alongside the Chinese originals, Abbasid pottery imitating Chinese wares has also been found at sites

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in Mantai and the capital Anuradhapura. Fragments of Chinese jars of the ovoid olive-green-glazed Chaozhou type as well as turquoise-glazed ceramics from Basra were also discovered here, as well as numerous shards of turquoise-glazed vessels dated to the eighth to tenth century.20 The Anuradhapura Archaeological Museum has a large jar excavated in Mantai. It is glazed in a greenish blue, has four lugs and applied decoration. This type of jar (or fragments thereof) has so far only been found in sites around the coastal town of Mantai. This seems to indicate that on Sri Lanka such jars were not used in Buddhist temples or elite residences but functioned as shipping containers.

Chinese and Basra Jars Found on the Archipelago, Sri Vijaya, and Sailendra The Southeast Asian archipelago played a key role in trade between China and the Middle East. One of the most important entrepôts was the Vajrayana Buddhist Kingdom of Sri Vijaya on Sumatra, with Palembang as its center. It played a key role in the region from the seventh to the thirteenth centuries.21 An important port on Sumatra was Barus, famous for the trade in resin derived from camphor. Archaeological excavations have not only found some 46,000 shards of Chinese ceramics, but also—along with over 9,000 shards of glass—an estimated 1,000 fragments of unglazed jars and pots from the Middle East, probably the region of Ṡiraf. Persian and Arab traders possibly acquired some of the Tang ceramics found in the Persian Gulf not at the ports of southern China, but in Sumatra.22 On the island of Java, the Kingdom of Sailendra emerged during the eighth century marking a cultural renaissance in the region. The kings of Sailendra were active promoters of Mahayana Buddhism; King Samaratungga was to erect the colossal stupa of the Borobudur temple complex. Sailendra ruled maritime Southeast Asia during the eighth and ninth centuries. Sri Vijaya and Sailendra established extensive diplomatic and trade relations with China and the Persian Gulf region; Chinese as well as Persian and Arab merchant communities settled there. Java was not only a Buddhist center but had become wealthy from trade. The island was the gateway to the Spice Islands, the Moluccas. At that time, the Moluccas were the world’s only source of nutmeg, mace, and cloves, which were in high demand across ninth-century Asia. Chinese as well as Persian and Arab ships stopped in Java to trade some of their cargo for spices from the Moluccas—with a huge profit because spices were light and valuable. Chinese container jars have been found on numerous sites on the Southeast Asian

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archipelago23 and the Philippines.24 Most of the Chaozhou-type jars in the collection of the Princessehof Museum at Leeuwarden in the Netherlands were found in Indonesia at the beginning of the twentieth century, when Indonesia was a Dutch colony.25

Basra Jars and Fragments Found in China Jars and fragments of turquoise-glazed pottery made in kilns around the Persian Gulf have been excavated at many Chinese sites. They have been found in Fuzhou (Fujian Province), in Hangzhou (Zhejiang Province), and Yangzhou (Jiangsu Province).26 These were the places with large communities of West Asian people. Persians and Arabs had settled there, among them merchants as well as preachers of Middle Eastern faiths such as Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism. Yangzhou, where large turquoise-glazed jars have been unearthed, had a particularly large and important community of West Asian merchants. These jars were possibly used as shipping containers for fresh water, but also for foreign foodstuffs consumed by the West Asian expatriates living in southern China. The ninth and tenth centuries were a high point of ceramic imports from West Asia to China. In excavation sites dating to dynasties following the Tang, Middle Eastern ceramics have been found in much smaller numbers. It seems plausible, as argued by Chuimei Ho, that the West Asians living in China had by that point become culturally naturalized and were therefore not interested in the products of their lands of origin any more.27 A spectacular discovery was made in 1965. Along with Chinese pottery figurines and other Chinese ceramics, three large turquoise-green-glazed jars of the amphora type were found during the excavations of the tomb of Liu Hua in the outskirts of Fuzhou in Fujian Province.28 Liu Hua was the wife of King Wang Yanjun (d. 935) of the Min Kingdom (909–45)29 who died in 930. These large jars of the Basra type with narrow rims, tapering toward the bottom, are all similar in shape and size, measuring between 80 and 100 centimeters high, with three or four lugs each. They are glazed in thick, bright peacock-blue on the outside and bluish gray on the inside. The upper bodies have applied decorations in the shape of an arch or cape and a guilloche pattern circumscribes the lower bodies. They held oil residues. This suggests that each of the jars had been used as a kind of eternal lamp, placed at the entrance of the grave. Their discovery in the tomb of a wife of the king of the Min Kingdom is rather unexpected. As artifacts, in terms of their materiality and decorations, these turquoise-glazed jars probably did not impress the Chinese elite. It might, however, have been the brightly

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colored turquoise glaze that was considered a novelty. Lying outside the Chinese repertoire of glazes, it must have been considered an exotic Persian luxury. Another theory, proposed by Angela Schottenhammer on the basis of earlier theories put forward by Japanese scholars, argues that some members of the ruling class of the Lower Yangzi Delta were descendants of Persian or Arab migrants. They had adopted the Chinese family name Liu, a transcription of Ali, according to the centuries-old custom of honoring a foreigner by granting him a Chinese surname. Liu was particularly popular among Muslims. It is therefore presumed that among those with the surname Liu many were Muslims who had settled in China and traded in the area of Guangzhou.30

Chinese and West Asian Ceramic Shards Found on the East Coast of Africa The trade network of Persian and Arab merchants not only connected West Asia with China, but extended to the Indian Ocean and the East Coast of Africa.31 On the sites of the Lamu archipelago in the Indian Ocean, close to the northern coast of Kenya, fragments of Chinese jars of the olive-green-glazed type dated to the ninth century, as well as ceramics from the Persian Gulf, have been excavated.32 The British Museum has a group of shards found in Kilwa in 1948 (Figure 5.2/ Plate 10).33 A thousand years ago, Kilwa was one of the most thriving port cities in the Indian Ocean. Merchants from the Gulf area had settled there and its citizens had converted to Islam. Imports from India and China had brought Kilwa wealth. Exports from Africa heading eastward included iron ingots, timber, rhinoceros horn, turtle shells, leopard skins, gold, and slaves. The British Museum holds 150 shards altogether, among them ninety of Chinese celadon and twenty-two of the blue- and turquoise-glazed fragments of Islamic pottery, providing archaeological evidence of the cosmopolitan character of the city.

West Asian Turquoise-Glazed Jar Fragments Found in Japan Although Japan did not participate in the private economic system until the ninth century when Korean and Chinese merchants introduced Japanese traders into the emerging maritime economic networks of East Asia, prior to 700 CE objects had traveled to Japan from continental East Asia, the South China Sea and India. Examples include commodities and Buddhist artifacts34 introduced to Japan during the Asuka period (538–710). With the advent of the foreign

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Figure 5.2  Sherds made of stoneware, earthenware, and porcelain, tenth to fourteenth century, pale green porcelain pieces: China, dark green and blue pieces: Persian Gulf, brown unglazed pieces: East Africa, found in Kilwa Kisiwani, L. 3–16 cm. The British Museum OA+.916. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

faith, Japan absorbed new cultural influences, especially Chinese ones, but also Indian and West Asian traditions via the overland Silk Road. The most important examples of West Asian objects are preserved in the Shōsōin, part of the Tōdaiji Temple in Nara. When emperor Shōmu (701–56) died in 756, his consort, Empress Kōmyō, donated hundreds of objects associated with the imperial family to the temple. In addition to objects from Korea and China, the Shōsōin holds artifacts that had reached Japan via the overland Silk Road from Persia, Central Asia, and India. They include West Asian artifacts such as Sasanian glassware, metalwork, and textiles.35 In addition, shards of turquoise-glazed Basra jars were excavated in 2009 on the sites of the Buddhist Saidaiji Great Western temple, established in 765. This temple had been the counterpart of the Tōdaiji in the old Heijōkyū Imperial Palace in Nara before the capital moved to Kyoto in 784. This site is considered the earliest dated context for a Basra jar outside the Middle East.36 It is currently not known how these jars reached Japan, and how and why they were appreciated in a Japanese Buddhist

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context. Items considered exotic, like the objects preserved in the Shōsōin, did not arrive as part of large-scale commercial exchanges and there is no evidence that West Asian wares had been made specifically for Japanese clients to provide suitable gifts to the court or for Buddhist worship. It seems that, upon arrival, an object of foreign origin considered to have exotic features was of some value and significance in Japan. A prominent later example is the Chigusa, an unassuming Chinese storage jar imported to Japan from China where—as a karamono 唐物, literally Tang object—it was highly appreciated aesthetically in the context of the tea ceremony.37

The Contents of Container Jars—Two Chinese Jars with Inscriptions When ceramics are excavated, the normal procedure includes thorough cleaning of all parts. One of the results is the complete removal of any organic matter or residue. In most cases, it is impossible to determine what kind of substances a ceramic vessel like a container jar might have held. Results of investigations of the contents of container jars recovered from archaeological sites are therefore by definition speculative. Inscriptions on two jars in the collections of the Princessehof Museum at Leeuwarden in the Netherlands might provide some of the missing information about the contents of Chinese jars in the trade with the Middle East.38 One of them, a small stoneware jar 39 centimeters high, features an inscription below the lip on the shoulder (Figure 5.3/Plate 11). The language of the script has not yet been identified. The other inscribed jar has a large ovoid body of 64 centimeters in height and six horizontal lugs (Figure 5.4/Plate 12). Here, too, the inscription is below the lip and was incised before the application of the glaze. This script has been identified as possibly Manichean, translating as (y)ag, oil. Manichaean script was used exclusively by the followers of Manichaeism, a Persian religion, from the third to the tenth century.39 Can we relate this epigraphical information on the Princessehof jars to the historical context of the Nanhai and Indian Ocean trade connections? Why were these jars, made in the kilns of Guangdong, not inscribed in Chinese but in old Persian scripts? Might this indicate that Persian workers were active in Chinese kilns or suggest that the jars were commissioned by Persian merchants to serve as containers for the transportation of Middle

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Figure 5.3  Jar with inscription. China, eighth to ninth century. Probably Chaozhou Kilns, Guangdong Province. H. 39 cm. Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics, OKS 1981–92 (on loan from the Ottema Kingma Foundation). Photo: Aafke Koole. Copyright: Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics.

Eastern goods to Chinese markets? Very few jars with inscriptions have survived. Two jar fragments of the Chinese Chaozhou type, excavated from the mosque in Ṡiraf in the Persian Gulf, bear inscriptions that were incised before the vessels were glazed. They are probably written in pseudoArabic, which indicates that they were made for clients in the Gulf region.40 By comparison, jars of the Chaozhou type recovered from the Belitung Shipwreck feature Chinese inscriptions that either refer to people (possibly owners or recipients) or have been interpreted as having auspicious meanings including bao yong 保永, protection forever.41 Other jars with inscriptions, one of them featuring old Persian Pahlavi script, have also been found on the Phanom Surin Shipwreck in contemporary Thailand.42 However, to my knowledge, no other jars with inscriptions referring to their contents have been identified. Considering the unknown script on the small jar and the inscription of the word for oil on the large Princessehof jar, a rather wide spectrum of possibilities opens up, which means that my following comments have to remain speculative for now.

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Figure 5.4  Jar with inscription. Inscription: probably yag “oil” in Manichaean script. H. 64 cm. China, ninth to tenth century. Probably Chaozhou Kilns, Guangdong Province. Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics, GMP 1981-056. Photo: Aafke Koole. Copyright: Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics.

Jars as Containers for Oil, you, (y)ag The term oil, which appeared on the large Tang jar of the Chaozhou type, could cover a wide spectrum of substances. For the kind of oil transported in this large Chinese jar with the inscription (y)ag in old Turkic script found in Java and now in the Princessehof collection, two possibilities present themselves: perfumed oil or plain sesame oil. David Whitehouse, the British archaeologist who led the excavations at Ṡiraf, mentions a curious book by a tenth-century Arab author called Tanukhi. The Nishwar al-muhadara, translated as Table Talk of a Mesopotamian Judge, is a collection of personal observations of everyday life in the cities of the Middle East. He writes: Tanukhi noted more than thirty Chinese jars (hubb sini) filled with perfume, the best of which was made during the reign of al Wathik (892–6). One of the jars was so heavy that it had to be carried by several slaves. It is possible that the writer is referring to the large olive green jars, which occur at such quantities at Ṡiraf.43

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­ il might therefore mean perfume, or perfumed oil, which was and still is O one of the most important export goods from Persia. The cultivation of sweet and fragrant plants and flowers like roses and jasmine and the preparation of perfume and perfumed oils were widespread in Ancient Persia and continued after the advent of Islam. In the eighth century, a perfume industry developed and perfumed substances were exported to remote parts of the world. During Indian and Persian traditional distillation processes, perfume oil is kept in large jars for several weeks until matured—quite like good wine. During the Tang Dynasty, the Chinese elite made lavish use of fragrances. Bodies, bathing water, clothing, homes, and temples were all richly scented with Indian and Persian substances.44 Exotic jasmine oils were known in Tang China under the Persian name yaasaman, jasmine, and under the Indian name mallika. The aromatic flowers were more generally associated with Persia and Arabia.45 It seems, then, that the term oil may well have referred to fragrant oils. On the other hand, sesame oil might equally have filled our jar. Sesame, sesamum indicum, was cultivated as an oilseed in India more than 4,000 years ago. In Tang China, the seeds of sesame were known as foreign hemp (hu ma 胡麻) and imported from India and the Middle East. It seems that some kinds of sesame oil were flavored or perfumed with jasmine or other flowers and called fragrant oil (xiang you 香油 in Chinese). The turquoise-glazed Basra jars found in the tomb of the Chinese queen Liu Hua in Fujian, mentioned above, also contained oil residues. To my knowledge, no analysis has been made of the kind of oil. However, in 2017, an international group of chemists and archaeologists published the results of a physiochemical analysis of oil found in eight ceramic lamps from the necropolis in Astana, a Central Asian oasis. The tombs were dated to the early Tang Dynasty. The oil that the ceramic lamps contained had been made of sheep fat and cattle ghee, but for the most part consisted of sesame oil. This proves that sesame oil, which had been imported to China from India and the Middle East, was known on the Silk Road and in China from the early Tang.46

Jars as Containers for Wine Both types of jars, the Chinese as well as the Persian Gulf examples, are glazed inside, a clear indicator that they had been made to contain liquids. In all likelihood, one of the liquid commodities transported on ships from the countries of the Middle East to China was wine.

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Wine, jiu 酒 in Chinese, mei in Persian, has a long history in both cultures. Before the Tang Dynasty, jiu was brewed from grain, mostly rice.47 During the Tang, grape wine became highly fashionable. Grapes and the methods of viniculture had traveled from the Middle East via Central Asia to China; putao 葡萄, Chinese for grape, is derived phonetically from the Persian word bade. The cultivation of and the trade in grape wine on the overland Silk Road was dominated by the Manichaean Sogdians. Many Tang representations of Sogdian wine merchants show them with wineskins that were usually made of goat skin. Yet, it is unlikely that Sogdians were actively involved in the Nanhai trade. Grapes and wine were transported on the backs of camels, mostly in skins, but not in ceramic jars. It was one of the great advantages of seaborne trade that liquids like wine could be safely and economically transported in jars. To my knowledge, grape wine in Tang textual and archaeological materials is mentioned only in connection with Central Asian trade on the Silk Road. We can, however, speculate that jars of the Chaozhou type were used on ships to transport wine of any kind. The shapes of the turquoise-glazed jars made in Basra were very well suited to transporting wine on ships, as had previously been the tradition with Greek and Roman amphorae used for this purpose in the Mediterranean.48

Chinese and West Asian Turquoise-Glazed Jars Recovered from Shipwrecks We have seen jars used in different contexts: for functional purposes at home, for the ashes of the deceased in temples, and to contain trade goods on ships. During the last couple of decades, a growing number of shipwrecks have been salvaged in the waters of the China Sea and the Indian Ocean, several of which date to the period from the eighth to the tenth century, the late Tang or early Abbasid periods. Most of these ships carried a mixed cargo: a quantity of ballast and staple goods like water jars, sometimes alongside heavy objects such as ingots made of iron or other metals to counterbalance a cargo of valuable luxury goods including Chinese silks. The gigantic numbers of Chinese ceramics intended for a global market, which included the Middle East, and the omnipresence of Chinese jars recovered on shipwrecks, demonstrates the importance of this commodity. Products from the Persian Gulf area included aromatics (for example, myrrh) and dates, the fruits of palm trees known as Persian jujubes in Tang China. An important commodity, grown around Basra and in many places around the

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Persian Gulf and on the East African coast, dates were transported in ceramic jars and often served as ballast. Dibbs, date syrup or date honey, a thick dark brown syrup, was much in demand all across Asia, and was probably also exported in large ceramic jars.49 These goods, including pearls, ivory, and other commodities, might well have formed part of the traded goods, although it seems that the Persian and later the Arab merchants from the Gulf region mostly supplied their clients with products from diverse regions along the routes, making use of a trading practice long known to the Chinese: product substitution. When, during their journeys, they acquired exotic goods demanded by the Chinese elite, they sold them to the Chinese as Persian goods, consequently demanding a higher price even when the commodity had not been derived anywhere near Persia.50 This also worked in the other direction: as mentioned above, Chinese porcelain intended for the Persian Gulf market was acquired in the entrepôts of Java and Sumatra. Cargoes recovered from shipwrecks in most cases reflect these mercantile principles. On many of these shipwrecks, jars—the ubiquitous Chinese Chaozhou type—were found. As most of the original contents of the container jars have been washed away by the sea and new marine organisms have developed on the surfaces of the ceramics over hundreds of years, it is not surprising that almost no traces of the original contents are left. The following remarks will briefly introduce some of the possible contents that these jars of Chinese or Persian Gulf origin on board the ships might have held. One of the earliest sites where West Asian turquoise-glazed jars have been found is the Intan Shipwreck, discovered in the Java Sea and dated to the early tenth century.51 It was recovered in 1997. The cargo held a variety of Chinese ceramics, Thai wares, Indonesian gold, and Arab glass objects. Chinese storage jars made in the kilns of Fujian and Guangdong were found alongside amphorashaped jars of the Basra type.52 The Batu Hitam or Belitung Shipwreck was discovered in Indonesian waters in 1998 and is dated to around 826. It carried a spectacular cargo, apparently destined for the Middle East, and its rescue attracted international attention to the Maritime Silk Road of the late Tang.53 Nine hundred and fifteen jars were recovered, most of them of the olive-brownglazed type typical of the Chaozhou Kilns. They were used as containers for spices like star anise. Several jars served as containers for an enormous quantity of small mass-market Changsha bowls.54 In addition, three vessels with turquoise glazes, probably produced in Basra, were also recovered.55 It seems that several of the large jars on board the ship had contained organic materials, which to my knowledge have not yet been analyzed.56 The Cirebon or Nan Han Shipwreck dated to 970 was salvaged in the Java Sea in 2003.57 The ship probably left China

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with a cargo of Chinese porcelain and picked up additional goods at a Sri Vijayan port in the region of contemporary Indonesia. It was heading for Central or eastern Java where Muslim merchant communities had settled. The cargo also included raw materials and finished goods from Southeast Asia, Africa, Persia, India, and China. Among the 300 tons of ceramics, glassware items, gemstones, ivory tusks, aromatics, and pieces of jewelry were jars of the large Chaozhou type. Small quantities of ceramic fragments covered with turquoise-green glaze were found, but it is not clear if they are jar shards. It has been suggested that the jars were not trade vessels, but containers for water and provisions for the crew. One fragmented jar in all likelihood contained tuna fish bones. On the Chau Tan Shipwreck, which probably sank in the late eighth century and was discovered in 2011 in the waters off Vietnam, fragments of turquoise-glazed earthenware, probably made in Basra, were found. A similar cargo was salvaged in 2013 in Phanom Surin in the Gulf of Thailand.58 The Arab dhow held a variety of international luxury goods, among them a Basra jar inscribed with old Persian Pahlavi script. It reads Yazd-bozed and probably indicates the name of a merchant, owner, or producer of this jar; it so far represents the earliest Pahlavi inscription to be found in Southeast Asia. Like the inscriptions on the jars in the Princessehof Museum, it points to the active role Persian merchants played in the maritime trade between western Asia and China.59 The Chinese ceramics and the wares on board the ship that had been produced in Mon territory and the Persian Gulf region are, however, assumed to have been for the use of the crew. The Chinese storage jars on board that are of the Guangdong Kiln type suggest that the vessel had visited Guangzhou. These jars were probably produced for Persian Gulf clients or rich merchants in Central Java. Not much is known about the usage of jars on ships, but it seems that there were many possible contents that range from water to wine and from pickles to spices. To know more about the specific uses of jars on ships we have to wait for further research and analysis of the residue of organic matter found inside some of the containers.

Discussion Jars of the Chinese and the Basra types produced in the Persian Gulf region and dating to the late Tang or early Abbasid period from the eighth to the tenth centuries have been recovered from archaeological excavation sites and shipwrecks. They are evidence of a premodern global network of seaborne

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trade, dominated by trade communities from the Middle East of mostly Persian and Arab merchants. Jars made in China and the Persian Gulf were exchanged in reciprocal maritime trade. Both types served mostly as containers. The ubiquitous Chinese jars of the Chaozhou type were used and reused in maritime trade for long periods of time. It seems that Basra turquoise-glazed jars were particularly made for and used by the West Asian communities settled along the trade routes between the Persian Gulf and China. The question about the specific contents of these container jars remains unanswered. No ship inventories are preserved, and almost no other additional textual evidence is available.60 Only in the case of a very few jars have residues of organic materials been chemically analyzed. Identification of the range of goods traded in container jars between Tang China and the Abbasids in Nanhai and Indian Ocean trade therefore remains speculative in many regards, if not a mystery. More research on the interpretation of historical materials and further scientific analysis of jars is needed to fill these containers with their proper contents again.

Notes 1

2

3 4

5

For a similar approach in a different area, see Pamela Smith (ed.), Entangled Itineraries: Materials, Practices and Knowledges across Eurasia (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019). Pamela Smith and Tansen Sen, “Trans-Eurasian Routes of Exchange: A Brief Historical Overview,” in Entangled Itineraries: Materials, Practices and Knowledges across Eurasia, ed. Pamela Smith (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019), 25–43. Gongwu Wang, The Nanhai Trade: Early Chinese Trade in the South China Sea (Singapore: Eastern University, 2003). David Whitehouse and Andrew Williamson, “Sasanian Maritime Trade,” Iran 11 (1973): 29–49; John W. Chaffee, The Muslim Merchants of Premodern China: The History of a Maritime Asian Trade Diaspora 750–1400 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018). Kirti Narayan Chaudhuri, Asia before Europe: Economy and Civilization of the Indian Ocean from the Rise of Islam to 1750 (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge 1991); George F. Hourani, Arab Seafaring in the Indian Ocean in Ancient and Early Medieval Times, 2nd ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995); Touraj Daryaee, “Bazaars, Merchants, and Trade in Late Antique Iran,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 30, no. 3 (2010): 401–8; Hyunhee Park, Mapping

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the Chinese and Islamic World. Cross-Cultural Exchange in Pre-modern Asia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 20–56; K. S. Mathew (ed.), Imperial Rome, Indian Ocean Regions and Muziris. New Perspectives on Maritime Trade (New Delhi: Routledge, 2015). 6 Dashi, 大食, also written大寔, is the Chinese name for Arabs and Muslims in Persia, derived from Tai, the name of a tribe from Tajikistan, or from the Arab word for merchant, tajir. 7 Hourani, Arab Seafaring in the Indian Ocean, 76; for the cliché of the rich Persians, see Edward Hetzel Schafer, “Iranian Merchants in T’ang Dynasty Tales,” Semitic and Oriental Studies presented to William Popper, University of California Publications in Semitic Philology, vol. XI (1951): 403–22. 8 For a Tang-dated Chaozhou jar excavated at the Chaozhou Kilns, see Guangdong Provincial Museum (ed.) Nanguo ciqi zhen Chaozhou yao ciqi jingcui 南国瓷珍潮 州瓷器精粹 [Fine Porcelain from Chaozhou Kilns] (Guangzhou: Lingnan Meishu Chubanshe, 2011), plate p. 7. 9 Dashu Qin, Jung Jung Shan, and Yu Shan, “Early Results of an Investigation into Ancient Kiln Sites Producing Ceramic Storage Jars and Some Related Issues,” Bulletin de l’École française d Éxtrême Orient 103 (2017): 362–4. 10 For a discussion of storage jars found in archaeological sites in Guangdong, see Sharon Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong and Macau,” Bulletin de l’École française d’ Éxtrême Orient 103 (2017): 333–58; Tang-dated jars 338–43, and Qin, Chang, and Shan, “Early Results of an Investigation into Ancient Kiln Sites,” 362–7. 11 Guangdong Provincial Museum, Art Gallery and the Chinese University of Hongkong, Archaeological Finds from the Jin to the Tang Periods in Guangdong (Hong Kong: Guangdong Provincial Museum, Art Gallery and the Chinese University of Hongkong, 1985), 234 jar pl. 102. 12 Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 339. 13 Jessica Hallett, “Pearl Cups like the Moon. The Abbasid Reception of Chinese Ceramics,” in Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, ed. Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson and Julian Raby (Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singapore Tourism Board, 2010), 75–82. 14 Shinji Fukai, Ceramics of Ancient Persia (New York, Tokyo, Kyoto: Weatherhill, 1981), 40–8, pls. 106–8. 15 Jessica Hallet, “Trade and Innovation. The Rise of a Pottery Industry in Abbasid Basra” (Unpublished PhD thesis, Trinity College, Oxford University, 1999); chemical analysis Robert B. Mason and Edward J. Keall, “The Abbasid Glazed Wares of Siraf and the Basra Connection. Petrographic Aanalysis,” Iran 29 (1991): 51–66.

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­16 For a detailed discussion of the ports of call along the route of the Belitung Shipwreck, see Ming-Liang Hsieh, “The Navigational Route of the Belitung Wreck and the Late Tang Ceramic Trade,” in Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, ed. Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby (Singapore: National Heritage Board: Singapore Tourism Board, 2010), 137–43, and Stephen A. Murphy, “Ports of Call in Ninth-Century Southeast Asia. The Route of the Tang Shipwreck,” in The Tang Shipwreck. Art and Exchange in the Ninth Century, ed. Alan Chong and Stephen A. Murphy (Singapore: Asian Civilization Museum Singapore, 2017), 234–49. 17 Hallett, “Pearl Cups Like the Moon”; John Miksic, Chinese Ceramics. Production and Trade (Oxford: Oxford Research Encyclopedia, 2017), B. 18 Chauduri, Asia Before Europe, 47–9. 19 David Whitehouse, “Excavation at Siraf. Third Interim Report,” Iran 8 (1970): 1–18, plates 7 c–d. 20 Noboro Karashima (ed.), In Search of Chinese Ceramic—Sherds in South India and Sri Lanka (Tokyo: Taishō University Press, 2004), pls. 37 and 47; John Carswell, “The Excavation of Mantai,” in The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, ed. J. Reade (London: British Museum, 1996), 510–16; Karashima, In Search of Chinese Ceramics; John Carswell, Siran Derinayagala, and Alan Graham, Mantai. City by the Sea (Aichwald: Linden Soft, 2013). 21 O. W. Wolters, Early Indonesian Commerce: A Study of the Origins of Srivijaya (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967); Dashu Qin and Kunpeng Xiang, “Sri Vajaya as the Entrepôt for Circum-Indian Ocean Trade. Evidence from Documentary Records and Materials from Shipwrecks of the Ninth–Tenth Centuries,” Études ocean Indien 46–7 (2011): 308–36. 22 Miksic, Chinese Ceramics, A, 229–30. 23 Sumarah Adhyatman, Tempayan di Indonesia. Martavans in Indonesia (Jakarta: Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1977), 1 A 1–3, 43–5; Sumarah Adhyatman, Notes on Early Olive Green Wares found in Indonesia (Jakarta: Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1983); Sumarah Adhyatman, Antique Ceramics Found in Indonesia (Jakarta: Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1990), nos. 68 and 69; Barbara Harrisson, Pusaka, Heirloom Jars of Borneo (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1986), nos. 23 and 24. 24 Cynthia Valdes, “Martaban Jars found in the Philippines,” Arts of Asia 22, no. 5 (1992): 64–5, no. 1. 25 For colonial acquisitions, see Eva Stroeber, Ming. Porcelain for a Globalised Trade (Stuttgart: Arnoldsche Art Publishers 2013) 102–5 and Eva Stroeber, The Collection of Chinese and Southeast Asian Jars (martaban martavanen) at the Princessehof Museum, Leeuwarden the Netherlands (2016). https://www.princessehof.nl/ img/uploads/jars_research_Eva.pdf. The Princessehof archives contain material documenting that jars were excavated in Central Java near the Borobudur filled

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with precious metalwork, suggesting a role of jars in Hindu-Buddhist ritual. More research in relation to this is needed. 26 Changyuan Zhou 长源周, “Yangzhou chutu gudai Bosiyou taoqi 扬州出土古代波 斯釉陶器 [Ancient Persian glazed pottery vessels excavated at Yangzhou],” Kaogu 2 (1985): 152–4; Xianming Feng, “Persian and Korean Ceramics Unearthed in China,” Orientations 17, no. 5 (May 1986): 47–54. 27 Chuimei Ho, “The Significance of West Asian Ceramics in East and Southeast Asia in the Ninth–Tenth centuries,” Trade Ceramic Studies 14 (1994): 35–59; Chuimei Ho, “Turquoise Jars and Other West Asian Ceramics in China,” Bulletin of the Asia Institute, vol. 9 (1995): 19–39. 28 Fujian Provincial Museum, “Wudai Minguo Liu Hua mu fachu baogao 五代闽国 刘华墓发出报告 [Report on the Excavations of the tomb of Liu Hua of Min, Five Dynasties],” Wenwu 1 (1975): 63–73. 29 Angela Schottenhammer, “China’ s Gate to the South. Iranian and Arab Merchant Networks in Guangzhou during the Tang-Song Transition (c. 750–1050). Part II. 900–c. 1050,” Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. AAS Working Papers in Social Anthropology, 29 (2015): 4–6; for the Min Kingdom, Edward Hetzel Schafer, The Empire of Min (Rutland, VT and Tokyo: Chas. E. Tuttle and Co., 1954). 30 Schottenhammer, “China’s Gate to the South”; Fukai, Ceramics of Ancient Persia, 48. For another example, see Edward Hetzel Schafer, The Vermilion Bird. Tang Images of the South (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967), 75, referring to an inscription dated 961, Vietnam, commemorating the Cham King sending an envoy to the newly installed Song emperor Taizu (960–76) to offer tribute and diplomatic gifts such as ivory, camphor, peacocks, and twenty Tajan (Arab) jars. The envoy by the name of Pu Ha-san, Abu Hasan, was probably an Arab Muslim who had changed his family name Abu to Pu. 31 Chauduri, Asia Before Europe, 56–7; Zhao Bing, “Global Trade and Swahili Cosmopolitan Material Culture: Chinese-Style Ceramic Shards from Sanje ya Kati and Songo Mnara (Kilwa, Tanzania),” Journal of World History 23, no. 1 (March 2012): 41–85. 32 Timothy Insoll, The Archaeology of Islam in Sub-Saharan Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 166–7. 33 Neill MacGregor, A History of the World in 100 Objects (London: The British Museum, 2010), 385–90. 34 C. Holcombe, “Trade Buddhism. Maritime Trade, Migration and Buddhist Landfall in Early Japan,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 119, no. 2 (1999): 280–92. 35 Ryoichi Hayashi, Shiriku Kodo to Shosoin, trans. Robert Ricketts, The Silk Road and the Shoosooin (New York: Weatherhill, 1975); William E. Mierse, The Significance of Central Asian Objects in the Shosoin for Understanding International Art Trade in the Seventh and Eighth Centuries, Sino-Platonic Papers, no. 267 (2017).

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­36 Tetsuo Sasaki and Hanae Sasaki, “Nara Shatsudō Aomidori, Yūtōkibin no Sanchi, Ryūtsū, Rūto, Yōtō, Naiyobutsu, Kachi [The Origin, Circulation, Route, Use, Content and Value of Blue-Green Glazed Pottery. Excavated in Nara],” Bulletin of Archaeology, the University of Kanazawa 32 (2011): 13–17; Seth Priestman, “The Silk Road or the Sea? Sasanian and Islamic Exports to Japan,” Journal of Islamic Archaeology III, 1 (2016): 1–35. 37 Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky (ed.), Chigusa and the Art of Tea (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2014), Introduction, 19–21. See also the chapter by Louise Cort in this volume. 38 Stroeber, Chinese and Southeast Asian Jars; Roderick Orlina and Eva Stroeber, “New Perspectives on Late Tang Maritime Trade,” IIAS Newsletter, no. 73 (Spring 2016): 50. 39 My thanks for interpreting the inscriptions go to Roderick Orlina, New York/ Manila. 40 John Guy, “Rare and Strange Goods. International Trade,” in Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, ed. Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby (Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singapore Tourism Board, 2010), 21, fig. 13. 41 Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby (eds.), Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds (Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singapore Tourism Board, 2010), 195, fig. 147. 42 John Guy, “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck, a Pahlavi Inscription, and their Significance for the History of Early Lower Central Thailand,” Journal of the Siam Society, 105 (2017): 188–9, figs. 12 and 13. 43 Whitehouse, “Excavation at Siraf,” 32. 44 For Tang aromatics in general, see Schafer, The Golden Peaches of Samarkand, 155–75. 45 Schafer, The Golden Peaches of Samarkand, 173. 46 A. Shevchenko, Y. Yang, A. Knaust, J.-M. Kerbavatz et al., “Open Sesame: Identification of Sesame Oil and Oil Soot Ink in Organic Deposits of Tang Dynasty Lamps from Astana Necropolis in China,” PLoS ONE 12 2: e0158636. https://doi. org/10.1371/journal.pone.0158636. 47 For the use of wine in Persia, see Mahmud Sadeqi-Zadeh, “‘Mul’ wine in Classical Persian Poetry,” Iran and the Caucasus 13, no. 1 (2009): 131–3; for wine-making traditions in China, see Peter Kupfer, Amber Shine and Black Dragon Pearls. The History of Chinese Wine Culture, Sino-Platonic Papers, no. 278 (2018). 48 Some authors argue that the content of the Basra jars found in China was connected with the use of grape-juice or wine in Nestorian rituals, see Huan Li,

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Shanzhu Feng and Hua Zhou, “Research on Persian Pottery Unearthed in Guangxi and Related Issues,” Chinese Archaeology, 5, no. 1 (2005): 222–6. 49 Insoll, The Archaeology of Islam, 169. Still today, Basra Date Syrup is available in Turkish and Persian groceries in Cologne. 50 O. W. Wolters, Early Indonesian Commerce. A Study of the Origins of Srivijaya (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967), chaps. 9 and 10. 51 Michael Flecker, The Archaeological Excavation of the 10th Century Intan Shipwreck, British Archaeological Report, 1047 (Oxford: BAR Publishing, 2002). 52 Flecker, 10th Century Intan Shipwreck, 118. 53 For the Belitung Shipwreck generally, see Krahl et al. (eds.), Shipwrecked; Alan Chong and Stephen A. Murphy (eds.), The Tang Shipwreck. Art and Exchange in the Ninth Century (Singapore: Asian Civilization Museum Singapore, 2017). 54 For jars on the Belitung, see Krahl et al. (eds.), Shipwrecked, 234–5, nos. 42–54. 55 Krahl et al. (eds.), Shipwrecked, 232, nos. 25–7. 56 Mentioned by A. John Miksic, “Sinbad, Shipwrecks, and Singapore,” in The Tang Shipwreck. Art and Exchange in the Ninth Century, eds. Alan Chong and Stephen A. Murphy (Singapore: Asian Civilization Museum Singapore, 2017), 231, and Miksic, Chinese Ceramics, A, 231. 57 Horst Liebner, “The Siren of Cirebon. A Tenth Century Trading Vessel Lost in the Java Sea” (PhD diss., University of Leeds, 2014). 58 Guy, “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck.” 59 Guy, “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck,” 183–90. 60 The most extensive research on textual evidence on objects and foodstuffs imported from West Asia is still Schafer, The Golden Peaches of Samarkand and Edward Hetzel Schafer, The Vermilion Bird. Tang Images of the South (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967).

Bibliography Adhyatman, Sumarah. Tempayan di Indonesia. Martavans in Indonesia. Jakarta: Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1977. Adhyatman, Sumarah. Notes on Early Olive Green Wares found in Indonesia. Jakarta: Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1983. Adhyatman, Sumarah. Antique Ceramics Found in Indonesia. Jakarta: Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1990. Bing, Zhao. “Global Trade and Swahili Cosmopolitan Material Culture: Chinese-Style Ceramic Shards from Sanje ya Kati and Songo Mnara (Kilwa, Tanzania).” Journal of World History 23, no. 1 (March 2012): 41–85.

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­Carswell, John. “The Excavation of Mantai.” In The Indian Ocean in Antiquity, edited by J. Reade, 510–16. London: British Museum, 1996. Carswell, John, Siran Derinayagala and Alan Graham. Mantai. City by the Sea. Aichwald: Linden Soft, 2013. Chaffee, John W. The Muslim Merchants of Premodern China: The History of a Maritime Asian Trade Diaspora 750–1400. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018. Chaudhuri, Kirti Narayan. Asia before Europe: Economy and Civilization of the Indian Ocean from the Rise of Islam to 1750. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Chong, Alan and Stephen A. Murphy, eds. The Tang Shipwreck. Art and Exchange in the Ninth Century. Singapore: Asian Civilization Museum Singapore, 2017. Cort, Louise Allison and Andrew M. Watsky, eds. Chigusa and the Art of Tea. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2014. Daryaee, Touraj. “Bazaars, Merchants, and Trade in Late Antique Iran.” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 30, no. 3 (2010): 401–8. Feng, Xianming. “Persian and Korean Ceramics Unearthed in China.” Orientations 17, no. 5 (May 1986): 47–54. Flecker, Michael. The Archaeological Excavation of the 10th Century Intan Shipwreck. British Archaeological Report, 1047. Oxford: BAR Publishing, 2002. Fujian Provincial Museum. “Wudai Minguo Liu Hua mu fachu baogao 五代闽国刘 华墓发出报告 [Report on the Excavations of the tomb of Liu Hua of Min, Five Dynasties].” Wenwu 1 (1975): 63–73. Fukai, Shinji. Ceramics of Ancient Persia. New York, Tokyo, Kyoto: Weatherhill, 1981. Guangdong Provincial Museum, ed. Nanguo ciqi zhen Chaozhou yao ciqi jingcui. 南国 瓷珍潮州瓷器精粹 [Fine Porcelain from Chaozhou Kilns]. Guangzhou: Lingnan Meishu Chubanshe, 2011. Guangdong Provincial Museum, Art Gallery, and the Chinese University of Hongkong. Archaeological Finds from the Jin to the Tang Periods in Guangdong. Hong Kong: Guangdong Provincial Museum, Art Gallery, and the Chinese University of Hongkong, 1985. Guy, John. “Rare and Strange Goods. International Trade.” In Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, edited by Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby, 19–33. Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singaport Tourism Board, 2010. Guy, John. “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck, a Pahlavi Inscription, and their Significance for the History of Early Lower Central Thailand.” Journal of the Siam Society, 105 (2017): 179–96. Hallet, Jessica. “Trade and Innovation. The Rise of a Pottery Industry in Abbasid Basra.” Unpublished PhD thesis, Trinity College, Oxford University, 1999. Hallett, Jessica. “Pearl Cups like the Moon. The Abbasid Reception of Chinese Ceramics.” In Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, edited by Regina

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Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby, 75–82. Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singapore Tourism Board, 2010. Harrisson, Barbara. Pusaka, Heirloom Jars of Borneo. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1986. Hayashi, Ryoichi. Shiriku Kodo to Shosoin, trans. Robert Ricketts. The Silk Road and the Shoosooin. New York: Weatherhill, 1975. Ho, Chuimei. “The Significance of West Asian Ceramics in East and Southeast Asia in the Ninth–Tenth Centuries.” Trade Ceramic Studies 14 (1994): 35–59. Ho, Chuimei. “Turquoise Jars and Other West Asian Ceramics in China.” Bulletin of the Asia Institute, vol. 9 (1995): 19–39. Holcombe, C. “Trade Buddhism. Maritime Trade, Migration and Buddhist Landfall in Early Japan.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 119, no. 2 (1999): 280–92. Hsieh, Ming-Liang. “The Navigational Route of the Belitung Wreck and the Late Tang Ceramic Trade.” In Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, edited by Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby, 137–43. Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singapore Tourism Board, 2010. Hourani, George F. Arab Seafaring in the Indian Ocean in Ancient and Early Medieval Times. 2nd ed., Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995. Insoll, Timothy. The Archaeology of Islam in Sub-Saharan Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Karashima, Noboro, ed. In Search of Chinese Ceramic—Sherds in South India and Sri Lanka. Tokyo: Taishō University Press, 2004. Krahl, Regina, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby eds. Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds. Singapore: National Heritage Board; Singapore Tourism Board, 2010. Kupfer, Peter. Amber Shine and Black Dragon Pearls. The History of Chinese Wine Culture. Sino-Platonic Papers, no. 278, 2018. Li, Huan, Shanzhu Feng, and Hua Zhou. “Research on Persian Pottery Unearthed in Guangxi and Related Issues.” Chinese Archaeology 5, no. 1 (2005): 222–6. Liebner, Horst. “The Siren of Cirebon. A Tenth Century Trading Vessel Lost in the Java Sea.” PhD diss., University of Leeds, 2014. MacGregor, Neill. A History of the World in 100 Objects. London: The British Museum, 2010. Mason, Robert B. and Edward J. Keall. “The Abbasid Glazed Wares of Siraf and the Basra Connection. Petrographic Aanalysis.” Iran 29 (1991): 51–66. Mathew, K. S. ed. Imperial Rome, Indian Ocean Regions and Muziris. New Perspectives on Maritime Trade. New Delhi: Routledge, 2015. Mierse, William E. The Significance of Central Asian Objects in the Shosoin for Understanding International Art Trade in the Seventh and Eighth Centuries. SinoPlatonic Papers, no. 267 (2017).

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­Miksic, A. John. “Sinbad, Shipwrecks, and Singapore.” In The Tang Shipwreck. Art and Exchange in the Ninth Century, edited by Alan Chong and Stephen A. Murphy, 222–32. Singapore: Asian Civilization Museum Singapore, 2017. Miksic, John. Chinese Ceramics. Production and Trade. Oxford: Oxford Research Encyclopedia, 2017. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277727.013.218. Murphy, Stephen A. “Ports of Call in Ninth-Century Southeast Asia. The Route of the Tang Shipwreck.” In The Tang Shipwreck. Art and Exchange in the Ninth Century, edited by Alan Chong and Stephen A. Murphy, 234–49. Singapore: Asian Civilization Museum Singapore, 2017. Orlina, Roderick and Eva Stroeber. “New Perspectives on Late Tang Maritime Trade.” IIAS Newsletter, no. 73 (Spring 2016): 50. Park, Hyunhee. Mapping the Chinese and Islamic World. Cross-Cultural Exchange in Premodern Asia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Priestman, Seth. “The Silk Road or the Sea? Sasanian and Islamic Exports to Japan.” Journal of Islamic Archaeology, vol. III, 1 (2016): 1–35. Qin, Dashu and Kunpeng Xiang. “Sri Vajaya as the Entrepôt for Circum-Indian Ocean Trade. Evidence from Documentary Records and Materials from Shipwrecks of the Ninth–Tenth Centuries.” Études ocean Indien 46–7 (2011): 308–36. Qin, Dashu, Jung Jung Shan, and Yu Shan. “Early Results of an Investigation into Ancient Kiln Sites Producing Ceramic Storage Jars and Some Related Issues.” Bulletin de l’École française d Éxtrême Orient 103 (2017): 359–84. Sadeqi-Zadeh, Mahmud. “‘Mul’ Wine in Classical Persian Poetry.” Iran and the Caucasus 13, no. 1 (2009): 131–3. Sasaki, Tetsuo and Hanae Sasaki. “Nara Shatsudō Aomidori, Yūtōkibin no Sanchi, Ryūtsū, Rūto, Yōtō, Naiyobutsu, Kachi [The Origin, Circulation, Route, Use, Content and Value of Blue-Green Glazed Pottery. Excavated in Nara].” Bulletin of Archaeology, the University of Kanazawa 32 (2011): 13–17. Schafer, Edward Hetzel. “Iranian Merchants in T’ang Dynasty Tales.” Semitic and Oriental Studies Presented to William Popper. University of California Publications in Semitic Philology, vol. XI (1951): 403–22. Schafer, Edward Hetzel. The Empire of Min. Rutland, VT and Tokyo: Chas. E. Tuttle and Co., 1954. Schafer, Edward Hetzel. The Golden Peaches of Samarkand. A Study of T’ang Exotics. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1963. Schafer, Edward Hetzel. The Vermilion Bird. Tang Images of the South. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967. Schottenhammer, Angela. “China’ s Gate to the South. Iranian and Arab Merchant Networks in Guangzhou during the Tang-Song Transition (c. 750–1050). Part II. 900–c. 1050.” Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. AAS Working Papers in Social Anthropology 29 (2015): 1–28. Shevchenko, A., Y. Yang, A. Knaust, J.-M. Kerbavatz, H. Mai, B. Wang, C. Wang, and A. Shevchenko, “Open Sesame: Identification of Sesame Oil and Oil Soot Ink in

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Organic Deposits of Tang Dynasty Lamps from Astana Necropolis in China.” PLoS ONE 12 2: e0158636. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0158636. Smith, Pamela, ed. Entangled Itineraries: Materials, Practices and Knowledges across Eurasia. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019. Smith, Pamela and Tansen Sen. “Trans-Eurasian Routes of Exchange: A Brief Historical Overview.” In Entangled Itineraries: Materials, Practices and Knowledges across Eurasia, edited by Pamela Smith, 25–43. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019. Stroeber, Eva. Ming. Porcelain for a Globalised Trade. Stuttgart: Arnoldsche Art Publishers 2013. Stroeber, Eva. The Collection of Chinese and Southeast Asian Jars (martaban martavanen) at the Princessehof Museum, Leeuwarden the Netherlands, 2016. https:// www.princessehof.nl/img/uploads/jars_research_Eva.pdf. Valdes, Cynthia. “Martaban Jars Found in the Philippines.” Arts of Asia 22, no. 5 (1992): 63–73. Wang, Gongwu. The Nanhai Trade: Early Chinese Trade in the South China Sea. Singapore: Eastern University, 2003. Whitehouse, David. “Excavation at Siraf. Third Interim Report.” Iran 8 (1970): 1–18. Whitehouse, David and Andrew Williamson. “Sasanian Maritime Trade.” Iran 11 (1973): 29–49. Wolters, O. W. Early Indonesian Commerce. A Study of the Origins of Srivijaya. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 1967. Wong, Sharon. “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong and Macau.” Bulletin de l’École Francaise d’ Éxtrême Orient, vol. 103 (2017): 333–58. Zhou, Changyuan 长源周. “Yangzhou chutu gudai Bosiyou taoqi 扬州出土古代波斯 釉陶器 [Ancient Persian glazed pottery vessels excavated at Yangzhou].” Kaogu 2 (1985): 152–4.

­6

Translocation and Transformation: The Lives of Chinese Fishbowls in the Early Modern Period Wen-Ting Wu

Introduction In the framework of this edited volume on jars as transcultural enclosures, my chapter studies the three careers of Chinese fishbowls and examines how they contributed their qualifications to these careers in different geographical and cultural contexts during the early modern period. Starting with the concept of an object’s career for making sense of the different stages in the life of an object that travels,1 I analyze the impact of translocations occurring in the biographies of fishbowls traveling from China to Europe and shifting from their ecological use and environment to a study of their social lives,2 and their global lives.3 Transformation occurred simultaneously in the spaces inside and outside the fishbowls along with translocations. On a conceptual level, Chinese fishbowls have many commonalities with jars: both primarily function as containers and share similar career experiences; both could be filled to conceal transformation processes—that of animal breeding in the case of the fishbowls and that of fermentation in the case of jars—both could transport and disseminate aesthetic material and cultural knowledge to other cultures outside China, be filled and refilled and thereby assigned specific functions. Sharing similar possibilities along their career paths, the enclosures of fishbowls and jars merge with each other.

This paper is based on an earlier paper titled “The Chinese Fishbowl and Its Global Context” presented at the conference Global Jars: Asian Containers as Transcultural Enclosures at Hong Kong Baptist University on September 9, 2018.

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Goldfish and Fishbowls The Book of Fish-Farming, written by Fan Li (536 BCE–448 BCE), is regarded as the earliest Chinese treatise on breeding carp in ponds.4 A species native to East and Central Asia, goldfish belong to the same family as carp.5 In the Song Dynasty (960–1279), the culture of breeding carp and goldfish in ponds became popular in palaces, with golden crucian fish and artificial breeding practices mentioned in several gazetteers and literary works.6 By the early Ming Dynasty (1368–1644), a new way of breeding goldfish was developed that required the use of containers for breeding, such as vats, jars, or basins, mostly made of ceramic or copper. These containers were called yugang in Chinese or fishbowls in English.7 Many literati from this period contributed treatises on goldfish and on this new breeding method, through which the practice of goldfish breeding spread to the imperial court, the literati, and even ordinary people. This prompted the production of diverse kinds of fishbowls for diverse users. Later, due to the development of European glass and painted enamel technologies in the Qing Kangxi court (1661–1722), fishbowls were also made of glass or copper decorated with enamel and valued as rarities.8 Bred in a limited living space, interbreeding caused the shapes of goldfish to change, their bodies became bulging and short, their fins and tails degenerated. Alongside various other types of Chinese porcelain, fishbowls were shipped to new homes in Europe. Placed mostly in residences or palaces, fishbowls received a new function as cachepots for citrus tree planting. Moreover, they were displayed as attractive luxury items in ballrooms and dining rooms. Exhibited among exotic items imported from Asia in the houses of members of the European elite, fishbowls also became objects of study, thought to be able to provide information about Chinese culture.

Fishbowl and Jar: The Etymology Despite the appellation fishbowls in English, yugang9 can be translated more accurately as fish vats or basins. Gang means “a round container with wide opening, bulging shape, and a base that is smaller than the opening.”10 The left part of the character gang means wa,11 denoting a roof tile or labeling an object as earthenware consisting of sand and potter’s clay; accordingly, gang was originally thought of as earthenware.12 The terms used for describing fish-breeding

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containers in early Chinese treatises were gang in the forty-first volume of Seven Categories of Notes13 by Lang Ying (1487–1566) and pen14 (basin) in the twentyseventh volume of The Works of Zhenchuan15 by Gui Youguang (1507–71). Both pen and gang appear in Zhang Qiande’s Treatise on Vermilion Fish16 and Wen Zhenheng’s Treatise on Superfluous Things.17 Later treatises generally used the same terms. In the European context, the English term fishbowl might have derived from the Proto-Indo-European root word pisk meaning fish and the Proto-Germanic word bul meaning round vessel.18 The form goldfish-bowl can be dated back to 1841.19 It is worth noting that upon their arrival in England, fishbowls were referred to as porcelain vessels or small basins in British Zoology (1768/70) by the naturalist and antiquarian Thomas Pennant (1726–98), as Chinese earthenware vessels in Life beneath the Waters: or, The Aquarium in America (1859) by the naturalist Arthur M. Edwards (1836–1914), and as purling (meaning rippling) basons in a letter by the art historian and antiquarian Horace Walpole (1717–90).20 This illustrates that the terms that were used in the early treatises for describing the containers in which goldfish lived were aptly worded to some extent, and the expression fishbowl would appear later in Europe. In order to stay true to the etymology and forms of fish containers in different geographical contexts, I will not limit myself to the use of the customary English term fishbowl in the Chinese and European contexts but also refer to fish vats and yugang in the Chinese context.

The Career Paths of Fishbowls Since Neolithic times, ceramic jars have been made for holding water or food. In China, for example, jars have been discovered during excavations at the Neolithic Majiayao, Banshan, and Machang sites of the Majiayao culture in today’s Gansu Province. Many of them are decorated with painted designs of fish or frogs.21 In the Mayan civilization, and later in the ancient Egyptian civilization and others, vessels were frequently made with fish or frog shapes or decorations. Fish and frogs, whose female ones have numerous eggs, often represented fertility and expressed the human desire for offspring and the continuation of life. These wishes are ubiquitous and symbols representing them can be found in artworks and artifacts throughout the centuries in China and elsewhere. Jars with fertility symbols became fertility symbols in their own right. The Dresden Porcelain Collection holds a Chinese fishbowl painted with fish swimming in waterweed (Figure  6.1/Plate 13). The Chinese idiom ruyu deshui with the

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Figure 6.1  Fishbowl, porcelain, underglaze blue, Kangxi period, Qing Dynasty, H. 51.6 cm, Diam. 59 cm, Diam. footring 34 cm, Staatliche Kunstsammlung Dresden, Porzellansammlung, Inv. no. PO 6021. Photo: Adrian Sauer. Copyright: bpk/ Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden/Adrian Sauer.

meaning “like a fish in water” is a possible description for this composition.22 It can be interpreted as the ideal environment for someone to flourish and be successful. Just like jars, fishbowls stored substances, such as water, and supported and enabled, and preserved and produced life, in the case of goldfish. The first career of fishbowls was therefore to enable fertilization. In their second career fishbowls disseminated knowledge. Also being containers, like jars, they were originally used to carry and transport things. As fishbowls were relocated to different geographical territories and cultural spheres, knowledge of them and of goldfish, their respective attributes to store and to be stored, as well as their social and cultural contexts also traveled with them. Objects (fishbowls, jars, and matter they contained) and information about them gradually became connected to other objects in a network of materiality and knowledge, where their social lives and global lives were formed. According to the profile that they sent to this network, fishbowls were assigned a third career: to serve in contexts

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relating to power. In this part I will demonstrate how fishbowls were connected to power and transformed into prestigious items during their service.

Career 1: Spaces for Nurturing Exotic Lives Since the Ming Dynasty, yugang—fish vats or fishbowls—had gradually become the principal tool for breeding goldfish. The size of the vessels mattered particularly as it markedly shaped the bodies of cultivated fish, distinguishing them from the long and flat-shaped fish in the wild that had had sufficient space for swimming.23 Adult fish whose bodies had matured would be moved to vats. Treatises offered instructions on this methodology. Wen Zhenheng (1585–1645) stated in the fourth volume Fowl and Fish24 of his book Treatise on Superfluous Things that “the water in fish vats must be changed every two days, otherwise filth gathers at the bottom and the water discolors. In this case, one must use bamboo tubes made in Hunan Province to clean the vat.”25 In the eighth volume of Zhuyeting Various Notes,26 compiled by Yao Yuanzhi (1783–1852), the entries by the Manchu officer and art collector Bao Kui (active in the eighteenth century) give detailed instructions on how to maintain a suitable living environment for goldfish. He states, for example, that “the vats and the water for breeding must be exposed to sunlight for two to three days before moving fish into it as fish should abstain from fresh cold water,” and “the vats should be covered at night and uncovered after the sun rises; otherwise, fish might freeze to death.”27 Moreover, Bao also suggests complex feeding plans and warns not to breed certain species of fish with each other.28 Concerning the goldfish-breeding containers, Wen Zhenheng pointed out in the above-mentioned volume that apart from ‘gutong gang’29 (ancient vats made of bronze) as an archaic choice, goldfish should be bred in “wuse neifu guanyao,”30 namely wucai ware (five-color ware) manufactured by the kilns of the Imperial Household Department, or “cizhou suoshao chunbaizhe,”31 namely pure white ware manufactured in Cizhou. Bao Kui recommended that “goldfish should be bred in ‘ming guanyao gang’,”32 namely vats manufactured by the imperial kiln of the Ming Dynasty. He added, “when such vats are turning old or become broken, they should simply be repaired and used again.”33 Being regarded as one of the most cultivated literati of his time, Wen’s choice of the imperial five-color ware was based on aesthetic criteria rather than fish-breeding purposes alone. In the second volume, Flowers and Trees,34 of Zhangwu Zhi, Wen states that “lotus flowers should be planted in a pool

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as preferred choice or in five-color ware made by the imperial kiln, so their beauty can be admired properly at the front courtyard.”35 Indeed, imperial ware made of fine clay and decorated with high-quality glazes provided the ideal conditions for goldfish (and lotus flowers) to be appreciated and taken care of. The five-color decorations on the outer and in some cases, also the inner sides of the vessels, may enhance the beauty of the presentation of goldfish in fishbowls and please the eyes of the viewer. As for Bao Kui, a Manchu officer who served in Luanyi Wei36 (the Imperial Equipage Department) and was also an art collector, he certainly had the chance to see and learn from imperial ware from earlier dynasties while serving at court.37 In the seventeenth century, when the Dutch East India Company (VOC) dominated Sino-European trade, thousands of pieces of Chinese porcelain were shipped alongside other exotic and valuable items to Amsterdam before being circulated to the rest of Europe. Yet, in their new homes, fishbowls were not used for breeding goldfish, but as planters. The court of King August II the Strong (1670–1733) at Dresden purchased Chinese and Japanese porcelain items primarily through dealers at the Leipzig fairs and in Amsterdam. In a particularly spectacular trade, August the Strong exchanged six hundred of his soldiers for 151 pieces of Chinese blue-and-white porcelain with Frederick William I (1688– 1740), King of Prussia.38 In the gigantic porcelain collection at Dresden we find several fishbowls. After arriving at court in Dresden, drainage holes were drilled in the bottom of the fishbowls so they could be used as planters and cachepots. In the Dresden collection inventory of 1721, fishbowls were recorded as orange [tree] pots.39 In addition to their use as planters, fishbowls were arranged in the garden simply for display as the Dresden inventory documents two oval-shaped orange [tree] pots decorated with fish and placed in the garden; it also records that three bowls were partially damaged by wind in June 1725.40 From the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, the fashion for using Chinese fishbowls as cachepots for plants spread from palaces to private households of the elite and to middle-class residences. Frequently used for planting citrus fruit trees (mostly sweet orange, bitter orange, bergamot, and lemon trees), Chinese fishbowls played an important role in furnishing the baroque and rococo castles and residences that normally had orangeries built around them. Orangeries consisted of parks and greenhouses in which diverse exotic plants from foreign countries were cultivated and kept either in pots or planted directly into the earth. To take the German Eutin Castle as an example, in the late seventeenth century during the reign of Prince-Bishop August Friedrich (r. 1666–1705) the castle’s orangery was modeled after the engraving Oranje-Stoove (orange stove)

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in The Dutch Gardener (Der Niederländische Gärtner) of 1670 by Jan van der Groen (1635–71). It featured bergamot trees, two different kinds of bitter orange trees, a cypress, laurels, carnations, and asparagus ferns in different types of containers placed in a heated greenhouse.41 In the following two centuries, the plant inventory for the orangery at Eutin Castle grew rapidly in terms of plant variety and quantity. In 1737 and 1800 massive construction plans for the pineapple and grape houses were made, although as the extant inventories record, citrus trees were the favorite plants throughout the centuries.42 This illustrates the citrus mania of German-speaking lands that peaked between the seventeenth and the early nineteenth centuries, when Europeans were highly interested in natural science, discovering and collecting exotic objects and plants from around the world, as well as recording related knowledge in numerous treatises and encyclopedias, some of which were specifically dedicated to the study of citrus fruits and trees.43 Orange, lime, and lemon trees were native to tropical and subtropical Asia, namely India, Burma, and China.44 Citrus fruits had been carried to the Arab region since the tenth century through trade with Asia and later to the Mediterranean region where they became well-known and easily available exotic fruits in Renaissance Italy and Portugal.45 In Sandro Botticelli’s famous painting La Primavera of 1485, a scene set in the garden of the Hesperides depicts trees bearing golden apples surrounded by mythological nymphs.46 From the end of the fourth century BCE in ancient Greece, the golden apples of the Hesperides were understood to be citrus fruits.47 In Botticelli’s painting, fruit-bearing trees and mythological creatures indicate the arrival of spring, signaling growth, vitality, and fertility. This offers parallels to goldfish in fishbowls. Both exotic plants and fragile creatures needed special containers to protect them and support their growth. Citrus trees as well as fish had to be portable: foreign plants from warmer climes were planted in pots so they could easily be moved into greenhouses and residences to survive the severe winter in central and northern Europe; goldfish bowls were equally portable, standing temporarily in the studies or halls of Chinese elite households. Citrus trees and fish grew in confined spaces to serve as constituents of interior spaces and garden designs. In their original function fishbowls bred life, while in their second life in Europe they could serve lifesaving (comforting or healing) functions. This is illustrated by a painting attributed to Gustav Seeberger and dated 1865 that depicts the bedroom of Ludwig II of Bavaria (1845–86) in Castle Hohenschwangau: it shows two fragrant citrus trees in pots placed in the king’s room to help him relax.48

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Career 2: The Knowledge Disseminator In Ming Dynasty China, when treatises on connoisseurship and collecting were widespread, goldfish breeding and fishbowls were addressed in them and discussed among literati and at court, as well as beyond elite circles.49 The Treatise on Vermilion Fish from the Ming period and the Illustrated Treatise on Goldfish from the Qing period are good examples as they systematically classify a wide range of information about goldfish and fishbowls organized in several sections introducing different species and their prices, followed by cultivation techniques with reference to ponds and fishbowls. Much information presented in these monographs also appears in other treatises. Zhang Qiande suggested in his Treatise on Vermilion Fish, for example, that: white ware [fishbowls] manufactured in Cizhou would be the first choice for goldfish cultivation; ware from Yixing in Hangzhou could be used, but as the color of goldfish will appear less beautiful in them they are still no good; in addition, large ancient bronze vats which have turned green are suitable for fish breeding. [I have] no idea how the ancients originally used such vats.50

Similarly, Wen Zhenheng’s Superfluous Things recommended using old bronze vats. Furthermore, the use of vats with suitable water for goldfish cultivation mentioned in Wen Zhenheng’s treatise had already appeared in Zhang Qiande’s text. Wen and Zhang shared the opinion that filth at the bottom of fishbowls should be removed by bamboo tubes produced in Hunan. According to their publication dates, Wen Zhenheng could have based his account on Zhang Qiande’s statements, but to which source did Zhang himself refer? Zhang’s brief preface mentions that he immensely enjoyed goldfish breeding.51 At the time he published the Treatise on Vermilion Fish in 1596, he was only nineteen years old, but had already published the monograph On Flower Vase52 the year before. In this work Zhang mentioned that “old bronze vases and bowls were good for flower arrangement as these utensils had long been buried underground and had been saturated by the breath of the soil; . . . so were ceramic vessels.”53 As Zhang’s On Flower Vases relied heavily on Gao Lian’s Eight Discourses on the Art of Living of 1591,54 it is likely that Zhang also quotes Gao’s statement on the reuse of old bronze utensils and containers as well as Gao’s citations from Cao Zhao’s Essential Criteria of Antiquities.55, 56 Other sources of Zhang’s work presumably included local gazettes and Wen Zhenheng incorporated Zhang’s and other people’s accounts into his own advice on the selection of suitable fishbowls. Wen generally agreed with Zhang’s preference for white ceramic fishbowls from the

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Cizhou kilns but suggested the newly introduced five-color ware made by the imperial kilns as an alternative choice. Wen disagreed with Zhang’s finding that Yixing-ware was suitable for goldfish cultivation, and argued that flower pots made in Yixing, as well as qidan gang57 (rice vats) and niutui gang58 (water vats) should not be used because goldfish cultivation should remain a refined thing to enjoy.59 In the Illustrated Treatise on Goldfish, the author, who went by the pen name Juqu Shannong, states in the preface that his writing relies on the Compendium of Materia Medica,60 the Comprehensive Botanical Treatise [of the Qing Dynasty],61 and the Mirror of Science and Technological Origins among others.62 This is similar to Nine Records from a Banana-shaded Window63 written by Xiang Yuanbian (1525–90), which was supposedly based on Tu Long’s Desultory Remarks on Furnishing the Abode of the Retired Scholar.64 Written knowledge circulated quickly in early modern China because of a widespread interest in publications on material culture.65 Among descriptions of artifacts and paintings, scholars’ rocks and pieces of furniture, garden flowers and tea pots, information on fishbowls demonstrates the process of knowledge formation, integration, and dissemination in these manuals well. Upon their arrival in Europe, goldfish and fishbowls contributed information to the field of nature studies and updated knowledge on the cultural sphere from which they originated. With regard to science, they offered knowledge on subjects like fish species, ecology, aquaculture, and evolution. Goldfish were probably first brought to Europe in 1611 when they arrived in Portugal; they reached England on board an East India Company ship in September 1691 according to James Petiver’s account in 1711.66 Petiver also pointed out that the first European record that mentions goldfish is the Description Géographique de l’Empire de la Chine written by Martino Martini (1614–61) and stated the terms used for fishbowls in eighteenth-century England.67 It was Charles R. Darwin (1809–82), who proposed the theory of evolution, who noticed and emphasized the transformative impact that fishbowls had on the evolution of goldfish.68 In 1855, Darwin exchanged letters with Edward Blyth (1810–73), a zoologist at the museum of the Asiatic Society of India in Calcutta who had authored the zoological account Indian Field published in 1858.69 In their correspondence, Blyth informed Darwin that goldfish from China were actually a variation of carp that had been cultivated through breeding and inbreeding in fishbowls. Darwin adopted this information and mentions it in his book The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication published in 1868.70 Here he states that the variation of goldfish in terms of their beautiful colors, sizes,

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and body shapes occurred as a result of unnatural living conditions, that is, created by fishbowls, a method used in China since early times. This statement attracted the attention of the sinologist William S. Frederick Mayers (1831–78). He agreed with Darwin but, upon noticing that The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication did not refer to any kind of Chinese documentation, published the article “Goldfish Cultivation” in the journal Notes and Queries on China and Japan in 1868 referring to Chinese documents like the Compendium of Materia Medica, “The Method of Breeding Goldfish” published in Brief Studies of the Principles of Things71 by Fang Yizhi (1611–71), Seven Categories of Notes, and the Mirror of Science and Technological Origins.72 Mayers’s article was sent to Darwin by Henry Fletcher Hance (1827–86), a British diplomat and amateur botanist.73 In 1871, Darwin published The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex, in which he repeated his opinions about fishbowl breeding put forward in The Variation, acknowledging and citing some of Mayers’s information about Chinese documents on goldfish breeding. In the 1875 revision of the book, Darwin added some more information on Mayers.74 This insight into the history of science illustrates how knowledge of goldfish and fishbowls had moved between China, India, Hong Kong, and England through a number of key agents, how it circulated, and was applied in different knowledge territories such as Chinese court life settings, literati circles, material culture treatises, British colonial writings, and publications in the fields of natural science and sinology. In other European contexts, Chinese fishbowls offered knowledge on cultural and social topics. A porcelain fishbowl in the collections of the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam (Figure  6.2/Plate 14) is decorated with overglaze famille rose imagery reminiscent of the famous phoenix flying through peony sprays theme (fengchuan mudan) in Chinese art, though there are differences: the phoenix is not flying but standing next to various flowering shrubs. This piece was owned by Jean Theodore Royer (1737–1807), a lawyer from The Hague who collected artworks and objects from China and Japan. In 1816, Reinier Pieter van de Kasteele (1767–1845), the director of the Royal Cabinet of Curiosities in The Hague, made an inventory of Royer’s possessions.75 Among many porcelain pieces of various types and numerous other objects, the fishbowl was recorded as one of “two extraordinarily beautiful large bowls or fish ponds.”76 Royer was known as an amateur sinologist who collected art with the aim of acquiring a better understanding of China and the Chinese.77 In addition to his own private porcelain room, he had also arranged a Chinese cabinet similar to those installed at eighteenth-century European courts that combined various kinds of objects

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Figure 6.2  Fishbowl, porcelain with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty, H. 39.5 cm, Diam. mouth 60.2 cm, Diam. foot 36 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Inv. no. AK-NM-6466.

from China and East Asia for the purpose of study. Through an examination of the catalog of his collection,78 we see that he quite systematically collected objects from Chinese literati life as well as from ordinary people’s daily lives. He owned Chinese printed books, including dictionaries, and collected the four treasures of the study (wen fang si bao)—brush, ink, paper, and ink stone—as well as some literati collectibles, such as a box with two copper balls for finger training, musical instruments, paintings (hanging scrolls and albums), tea boxes, lacquer ware, and Chinese and Japanese porcelain items. Royer also possessed Chinese tools (razors, a steelyard, an abacus, etc.), shoes, clothing, and accessories. A large fishbowl from the collection of Friedenstein Castle in Gotha had traveled a similar trajectory to the one kept by Royer. Relocated from a personal cabinet to a museum collection, the bowl probably belonged originally to Duchess Louise Dorothea von Sachsen-Gotha-Altenburg (1710–67). It was registered in the Catalogue for the Chinese Cabinet in 1832 and supposedly displayed in the Chinese cabinet installed in the castle around 1800 under the instruction of Duke August von Sachsen-Gotha-Altenburg (1772–1822). All types of objects

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from China, Japan, India, and other parts of Asia, either precious or ordinary, were arranged in nine rooms. The installation of a Chinese cabinet went beyond the intention of collecting and displaying exotic or luxury items and expressed a strong wish to read objects and understand the cultures from which they originated. Leafing through the Catalogue for the Chinese Cabinet, we notice that the descriptions of the collection of the Chinese cabinet in Gotha touch upon the historical, ethnological, cultural, religious, political, economic, and aesthetic aspects of these objects. Later these objects and the knowledge on them formed the basis for establishing the Ducal Museum (Herzogliches Museum). After it was built, between 1864 and 1879, the Chinese cabinet was moved there and displayed together with other objects collected from all over the world by Alfred, Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (1844–1900) while serving as Admiral to his mother Queen Victoria (1819–1901).79 These two examples show that fishbowls were looked upon with cultural interest, considered to represent Asian culture, and studied together with other objects arriving from China. The collectors’ goal was to acquire a large variety of different types of objects, through which they could build material, visual, and cultural knowledge. Through opening displays of these objects to the public in museums the dissemination of knowledge went further. The British Museum collection contains several Chinese fishbowls, one of which was bequeathed by Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks (1826–97), a former curator of the British Museum.80 He collected a large number of ceramic works from China, Japan, Korea, Thailand, and Vietnam, and cataloged them in A Catalog of a Collection of Oriental Pottery and Porcelain Lent for Exhibition and Described by Augustus W. Franks, first published in 1876. Giving a clear classification of ceramic pieces specifically from East and Southeast Asia, the catalog was divided into the following sections: Class 1–4 Chinese porcelain (according to the glazing and painting techniques), Class 5 Chinese porcelain with pierced ornaments, Class 6 Chinese, Corean (Korean), and Loochoo (modernday Ryūkyū Islands) pottery, Class 7 Japanese porcelain, Class 8 Japanese pottery, Class 9 Siamese porcelain, Class 10 Oriental porcelain with foreign design, Class 11 Oriental porcelain decorated in Europe, and Class 12 Oriental porcelain in combination with other substances.81 Each section starts with a short description of the characteristics of its contents, and each entry provides the identification of the object, followed by its form, origin, painting and glazing technique, decorative theme, mark, and measurements. At the beginning of the catalog, a brief history of Chinese pottery is offered, followed by information about locations where different types of ceramics were produced, excavation sites, and several types of

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antique ceramics, the materials of ceramics, and explanations for selected terms. Franks’s contribution lay not only in his bequest to the British Museum but also in this inventory. It was compiled on the basis of a sophisticated understanding of the material and its publication facilitated the circulation of knowledge of East and Southeast Asian ceramics. Similar to Sir Franks was William Giuseppi Gulland (ca. mid-nineteenth century–1906), who was a lifelong merchant in Asia and an enthusiastic collector of Chinese porcelain, including fishbowls (with one exactly the same as Royer’s).82 He bequeathed most of his collection to the Victoria and Albert Museum and produced a voluminous catalog entitled Chinese Porcelain, published in two volumes in 1898 and 1902 respectively. His work was reviewed by Eric Maclagan in the Handbook to the W. G. Gulland Bequest of Chinese Porcelain (1950), who pointed out that Gulland pioneered the study of Chinese porcelain with cross-reference to other categories of Chinese art such as painting, woodblock printing, and so on.83 These two examples illustrate that knowledge of these traveling objects became systematic and widely shared through publications. Chinese fishbowls even convey knowledge of porcelain in visual form. A large porcelain fishbowl with exquisitely depicted decoration with a diameter of 60.2 centimeters and a height of 40 centimeters is housed in the Gemeentemuseum in The Hague.84 With painted enamel colors, the decoration presents the manufacture of pottery in China in several different scenes: in a room full of glazed ceramics, one potter who works on a wheel is smoking a long tobacco pipe while the other is about to glaze a vessel; a potter is sitting on the ground and rolling the clay, and two other potters are preparing the clay; next to them a potter is checking a small painted covered jar; outside the house a boy is putting ware into the firing boxes, while another is carrying two pieces of long wood on his shoulders, above which the porcelain bowls stand; by the side of them, two potters are preparing the firing process in front of a large kiln made of bricks. These lively compositions have given European collectors and audiences from the last three centuries (and even nowadays) a general idea of how their beloved porcelain was made in another corner of the world. The depiction may have used The Illustrated Album of Ceramics Making85 (1743) as its source. Composed of twenty illustrations by the court painters Sun Hu, Zhou Kun, and Ding Guanpeng (all active in the eighteenth century) and descriptions by Tang Ying (1682–1756), this volume demonstrates the production process of imperial ware during the early Qing period, whose illustrations have been frequently used as references for the decoration of porcelain with motifs depicting porcelain production and reproduced in watercolor albums for export

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to the European market.86 As these images were “published” on the surface of the Hague fishbowl, on Chinese porcelain ware, and other art media, knowledge of porcelain production in China and its cultural context circulated throughout the world.

­Career 3: Vessels of Power Finally, Chinese fishbowls could symbolize power. According to Pottery Records of the Jingdezhen Kilns87 written by Lan Pu (active during the eighteenth century), in the Hongwu period (1368–98) of the Ming Dynasty, the imperial kiln started to produce large vats called longgang (dragon vats) for the imperial court, and special kilns were constructed specifically for producing such vats.88 During the Jiajing period (1521–67) the production of dragon vats came to its peak with the best quality and the largest quantity. Pottery Records of the Jingdezhen Kilns also recorded the manufacturing process of dragon vats, their types, and one of their functions at court—as fishbowls. During this period, the imperial family lived in extreme luxury and frequently ordered the imperial kilns to produce the finest and most luxurious porcelain pieces without considering the cost. Wang Shimao (1536–88) made an account of porcelain production during this time in his work Kuitian Waicheng, in which he wrote: during the Jiajing period, . . ., the [emperor] suddenly ordered the production of large vats with a diameter of six to seven feet; such ware required so much clay and [cobalt] blue pigment; after being fired, no more than two to three of every ten pieces could be perfectly made. The cost for this was huge and wasteful, but no one dared to say a word.89

Dragon vats were also used as containers for holding oil or water. In Dingling, the imperial tombs of Ming emperors, dragon vats were used as tomb furniture with the function of providing lighting. They were called changming deng, lamps that burn day and night, which should light up the tomb palaces as if the emperors were still alive.90 This manifested the emperors’ wishes of immortality and eternal power. The dragon vat served the imperial court and the context of power, and shared these affiliations with its partner role, the fishbowl. In fact, a parallel here is that dragon vats are like fishbowls as both convey the wish for eternal life. Fishbowls were also chosen as gifts presented to/or bestowed by those in authority. With such a function they served as a vehicle to symbolically

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Figure 6.3  Fishbowl, copper ware with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty, H. 18.5 cm, Diam. mouth 17 cm, Diam. foot 16.7 cm, National Palace Museum, Taipei, Inv. no. 故琺000383N000000000. Copyright: National Palace Museum.

deliver messages between the gift giver and the receiver. They were agents that connected the power seeker to the power holder, the inferior to the superior. It was recorded that, in 1745, a Manchu General appointed to the Maritime Customs in Canton (Yue Haiguan), paid tribute to the Emperor Qianlong with pairs of fishbowls, large and small, made of copper and decorated with very fine painted enamel (Figure 6.3/Plate 15).91 The Maritime Customs service was established in 1685 during the reign of Kangxi and functioned as one of the four ports trading with foreigners (and from 1757 as the only port for foreign trading). It was also one of the most important areas for the production of art for export, including painted enamelware. Since the late Kangxi period (early eighteenth century), the workshops there produced painted enamelware made of copper, porcelain, glass, or Yixing ware of all kinds to satisfy the demand of imperial users (especially the Qianlong court), which required specific and exquisite forms and styles as well as the highest quality objects.92 The tribute fishbowls here were decorated with elegant painted enamel of the best quality.

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In the exchange of this object from the local official to the emperor, the gift giver sought to strengthen his own status by associating himself with the emperor through the gift. In this manner the tribute fishbowls were granted dignified status and affiliated with the context of the court and power. It was not only in the case of the Maritime Customs Service that fishbowls were deliberately produced and presented to the court in pairs. When we leaf through the Archives of the Workshops of the Imperial Household Department of the Qing Dynasty, we find that the emperors often required things to be made in pairs and gifts were often presented in pairs.93 The display of objects in pairs, like a pair of stone lion figures seated at the front door or in the hall in courts or residences, showed not only aesthetic symmetry with an auspicious meaning that was favored by the Chinese, but also the intention of emphasizing the things or people situated in the middle. Manipulating things or people within a space was a way of establishing and demonstrating power and status. In a sitting portrait of Empress Dowager Cixi (1835–1908) painted by Huber Vos (1855–1935) for her seventieth birthday, a pair of large cachepots decorated with the repeated character shou (longevity) written in blue and rose against a yellow background are displayed on the racks at both sides of the Empress Dowager’s feet.94 In the pots grow flowering peach trees. The decoration on the pots fits the rosette pattern (also presenting the character shou) embroidered on her imperial yellow gown. The sketch for this portrait was done in four sessions in a park on the western side of the Forbidden City where Vos was allowed to see the Empress in person.95 The placing of the two pots with the flowering peach trees next to her feet, and other objects in the portrait, indicate that the arrangement was chosen by the Empress Dowager herself, as this setting is similar to that in other photographic portraits of her. See, for example, a series of photographs made between 1903 and 1904 by Yu Xunling (1874–1943) in which the Empress Dowager sits in the center in front of a large painting screen either in the middle of a pair of flower pots and fruit pots, or a pair of porcelain vases.96 A setting with a pair of cachepots was carefully schemed—the pots maintaining the life of flowering peach trees may have reflected Cixi’s mind wishing longevity on her birthday as well as prosperity for the imperial family and the Great Qing Empire, which she controlled for forty-seven years. Thus, these pots are placed in a dignified position when serving in Cixi’s portraits and are among the auspicious objects carefully positioned to demonstrate her power. Moreover, the banner over her head stating Cixi Empress Dowager of the Great Qing97 simply re-emphasized her lofty position and power over the empire. Vos himself remarked, “. . . the whole get-up is a symbolical and

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allegorical composition, more like a monument than a portrait.”98 Like the typical full-scale portraits that represent emperors or empresses with their eyes gazing right to audiences from earlier dynasties, Cixi, who sat right in the center in a symmetrical composition with symbolic elements, also used portraits for political purposes, that is, to disseminate propaganda to domestic and international audiences, demonstrating the power of the Manchu Empire and herself.99 In addition to commissioning portraits, the Empress Dowager also ordered the imperial workshop to produce a series of porcelain objects for her use in 1874 and made plans to reconstruct Yuanming yuan, which had been burned down during the Second Opium War (1856–60).100 Named after her painting studio, Great Elegance, the products from the porcelain series carried specific marks exclusively for her and included thirty-three designs of various forms and styles decorated with fine painted enamel colors and produced in pairs.101, 102 Some other pieces of porcelain made for her may carry a four-character mark meaning eternal prosperity and enduring spring103 that re-emphasized her ruling from behind the scenes at the court of Changchun Palace (the Palace of Enduring Spring). This was also a deed very similar to those of the former Emperors Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong who also issued decrees to the imperial workshop to produce series of porcelain and used the pieces to serve various political functions. A similar case, in which a fishbowl moved from one dignified position to another, is that of a Chinese blue-and-white porcelain fishbowl purchased by Queen Victoria and bestowed on New Government House in Delhi as a present.104 It remained in the possession of the king of the Oudh State, Wajid Ali Shah (1822–87) until his death, after which it was sold at an auction in Calcutta. Later, this bowl was gifted to one of the governmental houses in the colony of Her Majesty—truly an object of prestige. Like other fishbowls, it traveled from one place to another, one kingdom to another, one context to another, and seamlessly moved from one seat of power to another.

Conclusion Initially inanimate objects—containers with their origins in China—fishbowls provided an environment to breed animate beings: goldfish, traveled across continents, served different functions, and therefore experienced an extraordinary life journey. The statement of L. E. Saurma-Jeltsch sums up the intention and approaches of this paper very well:

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Things, normally understood as inanimate objects, as mirrors against which we reflect wishes, meanings, social signs, economic value and even obscure forms of religious power, now become agents in their own right. The constant transformation of individuals and their culture, of time, of places, and functions, leaves ‘written’ traces on the object; the interweaving of all these factors creates new stories around and new theories about the object.105

To study fishbowls on the move allows us to undertake a journey on which we observe how fishbowls operated in different roles: as products with particular functions, cultural products, commodities, and objects with prestige in changing spaces and contexts. Chinese fishbowls combine history, culture, and knowledge from different chronological periods and geographical territories. How far have Chinese fishbowls traveled geographically in different cultural spheres in history and what else may they have helped to breed in their lives? Our journey to discover more translocations and transformations of fishbowls will continue.

Notes 1

­2

3

4 5

6

Igor Kopytoff, “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process,” in The Social Life of Things, ed. Arjun Appadurai (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,1986), 66–7. Arjun Appadurai, “Introduction: Commodities and the Politics of Value,” in The Social Life of Things, ed. Arjun Appadurai (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 28. Anne Gerritsen and Giorgio Riello, “Introduction: The Global Lives of Things. Material Culture in the First Global Age,” in The Global Lives of Things: The Material Culture of Connections in the Early Modern World (New York: Routledge, 2016), 2–3, 8. Chinese title: Yangyu Jing 養魚經. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “養魚經,” accessed August 31, 2018, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=723844. T. Komiyama, H. Kobayashi, Y. Tateno, H. Inoko, T. Gojobori, and K. Ikeo, “An Evolutionary Origin and Selection Process of Goldfish,” Gene 430, nos. 1–2 (2009): 5–6. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19027055. Jinyu Tupu 金魚圖譜 (Illustrated Treatise on Goldfish) has an entry about Su Dongpo (1037–1101) who mentions in one of his poems the golden crucian carp that he observed in the pond of Mount Nanping when paying a visit to the West Lake, Hangzhou. Li Shizhen (1518–93) also mentions that the artificial breeding of golden crucian carp started in the Song Dynasty in Bencao Gangmu 本草綱目

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9 10 11 12 13

14 15 ­16

17 18 19 20

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(Compendium of Materia Medica), “Lin zhi san 鱗之三” (“Scale/ Part 3”). According to “Juan shiba 卷十八” (“vol. 18”) in Mongliang Lu 夢梁錄, a detailed gazette for the city Lin’an, written by Wu Zimu of the Song Dynasty, while settling the capital of the Southern Song Dynasty in Lin’an (modern-day Hangzhou) in 1162, the Emperor Gaozong, Zhao Gou (1107–87), also bred goldfish as well as other fish types in the ponds in his imperial gardens. The discussion on etymology and English translation of yugang will follow. For example, according to the first volume of “Xunxing 巡幸” about the Inspection Tour [of Emperor Kangxi] in Suzhou Fuzhi 蘇州府志 (Gazette for Suzhou), the grand coordinator of Suzhou, Song Luo, who was considered an important officer by Emperor Kangxi, received many gifts, including a white glass fishbowl. In Chinese 魚缸. In Chinese ‘缸. Handian漢典, s.v. “缸,” accessed August 31, 2019, https://zdic.net/ hans/%E7%BC%B8. In Chinese 瓦. See note 11. See also Chinese Text Project, s.v. “缸,” accessed August 31, 2019, https://ctext.org/dictionary.pl?if=en&char=%E7%BC%B8. Chinese title: Qixiu Leigao 七修類稿. Chinese Text Project, s.v. 七修類稿, accessed August 20, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=544613&searchu=%E7% BC%B8. In Chinese 盆. Chinese title: Zhenchuan Xiansheng Ji 震川先生集. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “震川先 生集,” accessed August 20, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=731469#p2. Chinese title: Zhusha Yupu 硃砂魚譜. Original treatise can be accessed at: Baidu Baike 百度百科, s.v. “硃砂魚譜,” accessed August 1, 2018, https://baike.baidu.com/ item/%E6%9C%B1%E7%A0%82%E9%B1%BC%E8%B0%B1. Chinese title: Zhangwu Zhi 長物志. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “長物志,” accessed August 1, 2018, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=585226. Macmillan Dictionary, s.v. “fishbowl”, accessed August 31, 2019, http://www. macmillandictionaryblog.com/fishbowl. Online Etymology Dictionary, s.v. “fishbowl”, accessed August 31, 2019, https:// www.etymonline.com/word/fishbowl. Christopher Lever, “Goldfish,” in The Naturalised Animals of the British Isles (London: Hutchinson and Company, 1977), 452–3. See also “bason” as a variant spelling for basin: Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, s.v. “bason”, accessed December 7, 2021, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/bason. For example, jars and basins being excavated from the sites of Yangshao Culture (5000–3000 BCE), now collected in Yangshao Culture Museum (Mianchi, Henan), National Museum of China (Beijing), etc., present painted fish patterns in black. Ceramic ware (mostly jars) with decoration of black-painted frogs, excavated from

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the Majia Yao Culture (specifically Machang Culture) dated back to 2200–2000 BCE, can be seen, for example, in the collections of The Palace Museum (Beijing), National Museum of History (Taipei), or Linden-Museum (Stuttgart). 22 In Chinese 如魚得水. 23 Jingchun Liu and Zhen Chen, “Jinyu Jiahuashi yu Pinzhong Xingcheng de Yinsu,” in Zhongguo Jinyu Wenhua 中國金魚文化 (Beijing: Sanlian Shudian 三联書店, 2008), 4, 40. 24 The volume title in Chinese: Qinyu 禽魚. 25 Original treatise can be accessed at: Chinese Text Project, s.v. “禽魚,” accessed April 10, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=585226. 26 Chinese titles: Zhuyeting Zaji 竹葉亭雜記. 27 Original treatise can be accessed at: Chinese Text Project, s.v. “卷八,” accessed April 10, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=850413. 28 Ibid. 29 In Chinese 古銅缸. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “古銅缸,” accessed April 10, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=585226&searchu=%E5%8F%A4%E9%8A %85%E7%BC%B8. 30 In Chinese 五色內府官窯. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “五色,” accessed April 10, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=585226&searchu=%E4%BA%94%E 8%89%B2%E5%85%A7%E5%BA%9C%E5%AE%98%E7%AA%AF. Here wuse 五 色 (five colors) means wucai 五彩 ware with decoration which was outlined with underglaze blue and depicted further with overglaze iron red and enamel green, yellow, etc. ­31 In Chinese 瓷州所燒純白者. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “瓷州所燒純白者,” accessed April 10, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=585226&searchu= %E7%93%B7%E5%B7%9E. 32 In Chinese 明官窯缸. Chinese Text Project, s.v. “卷八,” accessed April 10, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=850413. 33 Ibid. 34 The volume title in Chinese: “Huamu 花木”. 35 Chinese Text Project, s.v. “花木,” accessed August 20, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki. pl?if=gb&chapter=86895. 36 In Chinese 鑾儀衛. 37 For Bao’s short biography, see volume nos. 3, 5, 8 of Zhuyeting zaji. See also Daqing Huidian 大清會典 (Collected statutes of the Great Qing) for further explanation of Bao’s position. Also: Handian漢典, s.v. “鑾儀衛‍,” accessed August 28, 2019, https:// www.zdic.net/hans/%E9%91%BE%E5%84%80%E8%A1%9B. 38 Ulrich Pietsch, Anette Loesch, and Eva Ströber, China, Japan, Meißen: Die Porzellansammlung zu Dresden (München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2006), 5. See also

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49

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Ulrich Pietsch, Japanisches Palais zu Dresden: die Königliche Porzellansammlung Augusts des Starken (München: Hirmer, 2014). Original text: “Orangen Töpfe or Döpfe”. The original inventory text states: “2 oval runde Orange Töpfe, worauf allerhand Fische gemahlet sind, 21 Z. tief und 22 Z. indiam. [Marginalie:] 3 Stk. von diesen nachfolgenden Orange Döpfen sind d. 26. Junii 1725 in dem Garten von Winde umgeschmißen und schadhaft worden. CSC.” My thanks to the curator of East Asian Art at Dresden Porcelain Collection, Ms. Cora Würmell, for offering the inventory information on the fishbowls. Gisela Thietje, “Die Gewächsstube im späten 17. Jahrhundert,” in 300 Jahre Orangerie- und Gewächshauskultur in der Eutiner Residenz (Potsdam: Arbeitskreis Orangerien in Deutschland, 2006), 22. The drawing was numbered as fig. 15 on the fourth page in Groen’s work, accomplished during 1669–70. Thietje, “Die Gewächsstube”, 31–2, 39, 51–2. For a review of the historical literature on citrus trees and fruits see Johannes Pommeranz, “Von ‘Adams Paumen’ und ‘Citrin epffel’: Zu Zitrusgewächsen in deutschen Pflanzenbüchern der Frühen Neuzeit,” in Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur, eds. Yasmin Doosry, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011), 205–33. Johannes Pommeranz, “‘Schöne Zitron und Appelsina’ Die Anfänge des Transalpinen, Zitrushandels und Seine Bildquellen,” in Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur, eds. Yasmin Doosry, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz (Nürnberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011), 307. Pommeranz, “‘Schöne Zitron und Appelsina’”. The statement about the scene of “La Primavera” set in the garden of Hesperides follows Vasari. See Jonathan Kline, “Botticelli’s ‘Return of Persephone’: On the Source and Subject of the ‘Primavera’,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 42, no. 3 (2011): 667. Yasmin Doosry, “Die Goldenen Äpfel der Hesperiden Antike Mythen und Ihre Bildlichen Spuren,” in Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur, eds. Yasmin Doosry, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz (Nürnberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011), 29. Manfred Stephan, “ Der Wintergarten König Luwigs II. Von Bayern,” in Goldorangen, Lorbeer und Palmen—Orangeriekultur vom 16. bis 19. Jahrhundert (Petersberg: Michael Imhof Verlag, 2010), 230–1. Below are treatises that feature entries on goldfish and fishbowls from the Ming and Qing periods that I was able to identify: Yangyu Jing 養魚經 by Huang Xingzen (1496–1546); Qixiu Leigao 七修類稿 by Lang Ying (1487–1566); Zhenchuan Xiansheng Ji 震川先生集, articles written by Gui Youguang (1507–71)

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and compiled by Gui Changshi and Qian Qianyi; Wanli Hangzhou Fuzhi 萬曆杭 州府志 (Gazette of Hangzhou), compiled in the seventh year of the Wanli period (1579); Gushan Bichen 谷山筆麈 written by Yu Shenxing (1545–1608) around 1590; Kaopan Yushi 考槃餘事 (Desultory Remarks on Furnishing the Abode of the Retired Scholar) by Tu Long (1543–1605), first published in 1590; Zunsheng Bajian 遵生八箋 by Gao Lian (1573–1620), first published in 1591; Zhusha Yupu 硃砂 魚譜 by Zhang Qiande (1577–1643), first published in 1596; Erruting Qunfang Pu 二如亭群芳譜 by Wang Xiangjin (1561–1653); Sancai Tuhui 三才圖會 by Wang Qi and Wang Siyi and published in 1609; Zhangwu Zhi 長物志 by Wen Zhenheng (1585–1645), finished in 1621 and published in 1634; Zhuyu Pu 朱魚 譜 by Jiang Zaiyong, first published around the Kangxi period (late seventeenth to early eighteenth century); Gezhi Jingyuan 格致鏡原 by Chen Yuanlong (active around the Kangxi to early Yongzheng period, late seventeenth to early eighteenth century); article about fish breeding in jars by Bao Kui (active during the eighteenth century), included in Zhuyeting Zaji 竹葉亭雜記, which is compiled by Yao Yuanzhi (1783–1852); Jinyu Tupu 金魚圖譜 by Juqu Shannong (a pen name), first published in 1848 and the first publication to include colored illustrations of goldfish; Chongyu Yaji 蟲魚雅集 by Rong Ting (or Zhuoyuan Laoren as pen name, active around the second half of the nineteenth century). More valuable information remains to be uncovered in difangzhi 地方志 (gazetteers) and tongzhi 通志 (encyclopedia). 50 Original treatise can be accessed at: Baidu Baike 百度百科, s.v. “硃砂魚譜,” accessed August 1, 2018, https://baike.baidu.com/item/%E6%9C%B1%E7%A0%82 %E9%B1%BC%E8%B0%B1. 51 Ibid. ­52 Chinese title: Pinghua Pu 瓶花譜. 53 Original treatise can be accessed at: Wikisource, s.v. “瓶花譜,” accessed August 20, 2019, https://zh.wikisource.org/zh-hant/%E7%93%B6%E8%8A%B1%E8%AD%9C. 54 Chinese title: Zunsheng Bajian 遵生八箋. In his treatise On Flower Vase, Zhang had markedly referred to Gao’s statement on vase flowers with a subtitle “Three Discussions on Flower Arrangement in Vases” (“Pinghua Sanshuo 瓶花三說”) in the chapter titled “Discourses on the Pure Enjoyment of Cultured Idleness” (“Yanxian Qingshang 燕閑清賞”) of Zunsheng Bajian. 55 Chinese title: Gegu Yaolun 格古要論. 56 Gao’s treatise on this can be accessed at: Chinese Text Project, s.v. “格古,” accessed August 18, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&res=277199&searchu=%E6%A0% BC%E5%8F%A4. 57 In Chinese 七石缸. Literal meaning: vat for seven “dan”, a Chinese unit of dry measure. 58 In Chinese 牛腿缸. Literal meaning: vat of bracket.

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59 Original treatise can be accessed at: Chinese Text Project, s.v. “七石牛腿,” accessed September 1, 2019, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=585226&searchu=%E4 %B8%83%E7%9F%B3. 60 Chinese title: Bencao Gangmu 本草綱目. 61 Chinese title: Qunfang Pu 群芳譜. 62 Chinese title: Gezhi Jingyuan 格致鏡原. 63 Chinese title: Jiaochuang Jiulu 蕉窗九錄. 64 Chinese title: Kaopan Yushi 考槃餘事. This is indicated by Siku Quanshu 四庫 全書 when recruiting Jiaochuang Jiulu. See Craig Clunas, “Books About Things,” in Superfluous Things: Material Culture and Social Status in Early Modern China (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2004), 29–30. 65 Craig Clunas, Superfluous Things: Material Culture and Social Status in Early Modern China (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2004). 66 Christopher Lever, “Goldfish,” in The Naturalised Animals of the British Isles (London: Hutchinson and Company, 1977), 450–2. See also G. H. Copp, K. J. Wesley, and L. Vilizzi, “Pathways of Ornamental and Aquarium Fish Introductions into Urban Ponds of Epping Forest: The Human Vector,” Journal of Applied Ichthyology 21 (2005): 263. 67 Lever, “Goldfish,” 451. 68 “The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication: Chapter VIII,” Internet Archive, accessed March 27, 2019, https://archive.org/details/ variationanimal02darwgoog/page/n334. 69 “Darwin Correspondence Project,” University of Cambridge, published 2018, https://www.darwinproject.ac.uk/search/?keyword=Edward+Blyth&tab=. 70 “The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication: Volume 1,” Luarna Ediciones, accessed October 15, 2019, http://www.ataun.net/ BIBLIOTECAGRATUITA/Classics%20in%20English/Charles%20Darwin/The%20 Variation%20of%20Animals%20and%20Plants%20under%20Domestication.%20 Volume%20I.pdf. See pages 777–9. 71 Chinese title: Wuli Xiaoshi 物理小識; the chapter is titled: “Yangjinyu Fa” 養金魚 法. 72 Jixing Pan, “Darwin yinyong de zhongguo yuanshi wenxian ziliao,” in Zhongwai Kexue Zhi Jiaoliu (Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1993), 14–15. See also Daniel Pauly, “Bibliography: Mayers, William Fredrick” in Darwin’s Fishes: An Encyclopedia of Ichthyology, Ecology, and Evolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 289. On the first few pages of Notes and Queries on China and Japan the following notice is printed: “Notes and Queries: on China and Japan. A monthly medium of inter-communication for professional and literary men, missionaries, and residents in the East Generally, etc. Edited by N. B. Dennys,” followed by volume number, Hong Kong, and date.

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73 Notes and Queries. Pan, 15–16. 74 Pan. 75 Jan Van Campen, De Haagse Jurist Jean Theodore Royer (1737–1807): en Zijn Verzameling Chinese Voorwerpen (Hilversum: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000), 287–369. 76 “twee extraordinaire fraaije groote kommen of vischvijvers”, i.e. Ibid., 369. 77 Dawn Odell, “Porcelain, Print Culture, and Mercantile Aethetics,” in The Cultural Aesthetics of Eighteenth-Century Porcelain, ed. Michael E. Yonan (Oxon: Routledge 2010), 148. 78 JanVan Campen, Royers Chinese Kabinet: Voorwerpen uit China verzameld door Jean Theodore Royer (1737–1807) (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum and Zwolle: Waanders, 2000), 15–61. 79 Herbert Bräutigam, “Zur Entstehung und zum Charakter der Sammlung japanischer Lackobjekte im Schloßmuseum Gotha,” in Schätze Japanischer Lackkunst auf Schloß Friedenstein (Gotha: Schloßmuseum Gotha, 1998), 15. See also Martin Eberle, “ . . . un petit sanctuaire de porcelaine . . . Die Keramiksammlung auf Schloss Friedenstein Gotha,” Kunstgeschichtliche Gesellschaft zu Berlin, last modified August 22, 2017, https://www.kunstgeschichtliche-gesellschaft-berlin. de/2017/08/22/un-petit-sanctuaire-de-porcelaine-die-keramiksammlung-aufschloss-friedenstein-gotha. Lecture by Martin Eberle dated 15 Jan 2015 at GobelinSaal of Bodes-Museum. 80 “Augustus Wollaston Franks,” The British Museum, accessed September 1, 2018, https://www.britishmuseum.org/research/search_the_collection_database/term_ details.aspx?bioId=148562. The inventory no. of this object: OA+.528. 81 “Catalogue of a collection of oriental porcelain and pottery lent for exhibition by A.W. Franks,” Internet Archive, accessed April 10, 2019, https://archive.org/details/ catalogueofcolle00fran/page/n10. ­82 “William Giuseppi Gulland,” Victoria and Albert Museum, accessed April 2019, http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/w/william-giuseppi-gulland/. 83 Stacey Pierson, “Chapter 2: Collectors and Experts: Re-inventing Chinese Porcelain, 1901–1920,” in Collectors, Collections and Museum: The Field of Chinese Ceramics in Britain, 1560–1960 (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2007), 84–5. 84 The inventory no. of this object: 0558797. 85 Chinese title: Taoye Tuce 陶冶圖冊. 86 Taoye Tuce that was accomplished during the Qing Yongzheng period (1730) has been regarded as one of the prototypes of the version published in 1743. A further prototype could be the thirteen woodcut printed illustrations for ceramic production in Tiangong Kaiwu 天工開物 (The Exploitation of the Works of Nature), compiled by Song Yingxing and first published in 1673. The detailed research on Taoye Tuce and its sources see Pei-Jin Yu, “The Emperor Qianlong’s

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Ideal Imperial Kiln, as Seen in the Illustrated Album of Ceramics Making,” in Gugong Xueshu Jikan (Taipei: National Palace Museum, 2013), 185–235. 87 Chinese title: Jingdezhen Taolu 景德鎮陶錄. 88 Longgang 龍缸. Original treatise can be accessed at: Chinese Text Project, s.v. “龍 缸,” accessed August 22, 2018, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&res=552051&search u=%E9%BE%8D%E7%BC%B8. The kilns were called longgang yao 龍缸窯, kiln of dragon vat. 89 Chinese title: 窺天外乘. Original treatise can be accessed at: Chinese Text Project, s.v. “窺天外乘,” accessed August 2, 2018, https://ctext.org/wiki. pl?if=gb&chapter=826210#p3. 90 Changming deng 長明燈. See “Longgang 龍缸,” Hunan Provincial Museum, accessed August 15, 2018, http://www.hnmuseum.com/sites/default/files/statics/ tezhanhuimou/2014KilnOfMing%E5%BE%A1%E7%AA%91%E5%AF%86%E7 %A0%81/treasures130.html. See also Handian 漢典, s.v. “長明燈,” accessed August 15, 2018, https://www.zdic.net/hant/%E9%95%B7%E6%98%8E%E7%87%88. 91 According to The Palace Museum in Beijing, a copper-ware jar with painted enamel decoration, now in its collection, may be one of the tributes paid to this occasion. See: “Porcelain Fish Bowl Painted with Figures in Landscape,” Beijing Palace Museum, accessed April 16, 2019, https://www.dpm.org.cn/collection/ enamel/232079.html. The piece illustrated in Figure 6.3 is a similar one from the collection of the National Palace Museum, Taipei. 92 Ching-Fei Shih and Chong-Ci Wang, “Imperial ‘Guang falang’ of the Qianlong Period Manufactured by the Guangdong Maritime Customs,” Taida Journal of Art History no. 36, 90. See also Ching-Fei Shih, “Gongting yu Difang de Hudong,” in Riyue Guanghua (Radiant Luminance: The Painted Enamelware of the Qing Imperial Court) (Taipei: National Palace Museum, 2012), 179–81. 93 Neiwufu Zaobanchu Huojidang 內務府造辦處活計檔. ­94 Shou 壽. This painting is located in Dehe Garden in Yihe Yuan (Summer Palace in Beijing). A porcelain pot similar to those depicted in the painting is now in Taipei Palace Museum with inventory no. 故-瓷-001106-N000000000. 95 Virginia Anderson, “‘A Semi-Chinese Picture’: Hubert Vos and the Empress Dowager of China,” in East-West Interchanges in American Art: A Long and Tumultuous Relationship, eds. Cynthia Mills, Lee Glazer, and Amelia A. Goerlitz (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2012), 102. 96 Ying-Chen Peng, “Lingering between Tradition and Innovation: Photographic Portraits of Empress Dowager Cixi,” Ars Orientalis 43 (2013): 160–2. 97 I.e., Daqingguo Cixi Huangtaihou 大清國慈禧皇太后. 98 Anderson, “‘A Semi-Chinese Picture’, 104. 99 Cheng-Hua Wang, “Portraits of the Empress Dowager Cixi and Their Public Roles,” Taida Journal of Art History, no. 32 (2012): 266–7.

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100 “Planters,” in The Enchanting Splendor of Vases and Planters: A Special Exhibition of Flower Vessels from the Ming and Qing Dynasties, ed. Yu-Hsiu Chen (Taipei: National Palace Museum, 2014), 99. 101 The studio is named “Daya Zhai 大雅齋.” 102 This refers to Archives of the Workshops of the Imperial Household Department in Jiujiang, the Thirteenth Year of the Tongzhi Period (Tongzhi Shisannian Chuan Jiujiang Huoji Didan 同治十三年傳九江活計底單). See note 104 and also: Guanyang Yuci: Gugong Bowuyuancang Qingdai Zhici Guanyang Yu Yuyao Ciqi 官 樣御瓷─故宮博物院藏清代製瓷官樣與御窯瓷器, eds. Wang Guangyao and Guo Xingkuan, (Beijing: Zijincheng chubanshe, 2007), 186–7. 103 The mark reads: yongqing changchun 永慶長春. 104 Bernard Rackham, “A Chinese Bowl Purchased by H. M. the Queen for the New Government House, Delhi,” The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 28, no. 156 (1916): 245–7. This fishbowl is 20 inches in height with a mouth diameter of 27.5 inches, dated to the late Qianlong to Jiaqing periods of the Qing Dynasty (end eighteenth century). 105 Lieselotte E. Saurma-Jeltsch, “Introduction,” in The Power of Things and the Flow of Cultural Transformations, eds. Lieselotte E. Saurma-Jeltsch and Anja Eisenbeiß (München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2010), 10–11.

Bibliography Anderson, Virginia. “‘A Semi-Chinese Picture’: Hubert Vos and the Empress Dowager of China.” In East–West Interchanges in American Art: A Long and Tumultuous Relationship, edited by Cynthia Mills, Lee Glazer, and Amelia A. Goerlitz, 96–109. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2012. Beijing Palace Museum. “Porcelain Fishbowl Painted with Figures in Landscape.” Accessed April 16, 2019. https://www.dpm.org.cn/collection/enamel/232079.html. ­Bräutigam, Herbert. Schätze japanischer Lackkunst auf Schloß Friedenstein. Gotha: Schloßmuseum Gotha, 1998. The British Museum. “Augustus Wollaston Franks.” Accessed September 1, 2018. https://www.britishmuseum.org/research/search_the_collection_database/term_ details.aspx?bioId=148562. Chen, Yu-Hsiu 陳玉秀 ed. “Planters.” In The Enchanting Splendor of Vases and Planters: A Special Exhibition of Flower Vessels from the Ming and Qing Dynasties. Taipei: National Palace Museum, 2014. Clunas, Craig. Superfluous Things: Material Culture and Social Status in Early Modern China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2004.

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Copp, G. H., K. J. Wesley, and L. Vilizzi. “Pathways of Ornamental and Aquarium Fish Introductions into Urban Ponds of Epping Forest: The Human Vector.” Journal of Applied Ichthyology 21 (2005): 263–74. Darwin, Charles. “The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication: Chapter VIII.” Internet Archive. Accessed March 27, 2019. https://archive.org/details/ variationanimal02darwgoog/page/n334. Doosry, Yasmin. “Die Goldenen Äpfel der Hesperiden Antike Mythen und Ihre Bildlichen Spuren.” In Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur, edited by Yasmin Doosry, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz, 27–67. Nürnberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011. Doosry, Yasmin, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz eds. Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur. Nürnberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011. Eberle, Marin. “. . . un petit sanctuaire de porcelaine . . . Die Keramiksammlung auf Schloss Friedenstein Gotha.” Kunstgeschichtliche Gesellschaft zu Berlin. Last modified August 22, 2017. https://www.kunstgeschichtliche-gesellschaft-berlin. de/2017/08/22/un-petit-sanctuaire-de-porcelaine-die-keramiksammlung-aufschloss-friedenstein-gotha. Gerritsen, Anne and Giorgio Riello. “Introduction: The Global Lives of Things. Material Culture in the First Global Age.” In The Global Lives of Things: The Material Culture of Connections in the Early Modern World, 11–28. New York: Routledge, 2016. Internet Archive. “Catalogue of a Collection of Oriental Porcelain and Pottery: Lent for Exhibition by A. W. Franks.” Accessed August 27, 2019. https://archive.org/details/ catalogueofcolle00fran/page/n10. Kline, Jonathan. “Botticelli’s ‘Return of Persephone’: On the Source and Subject of the ‘Primavera’.” The Sixteenth Century Journal 42, no. 3 (2011): 665–8. Komiyama, T., H. Kobayashi, Y. Tateno, H. Inoko, T. Gojobori, and K. Ikeo. “An Evolutionary Origin and Selection Process of Goldfish.” Gene 430, nos. 1–2 (2009): 5–11. ­Kopytoff, Igor. “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process.” In The Social Life of Things, edited by Arjun Appadurai, 64–91. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Lever, Christopher. “Goldfish.” In The Naturalised Animals of the British Isles. London: Hutchinson and Company, 1977. Liu, Jingchun 劉景春 and Zhen Chen 陳楨. Zhongguo Jinyu Wenhua 中國金魚文化. Beijing: Sanlian Shudian 三联書店, 2008. Luarna Ediciones. “The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication: Volume 1.” Accessed October 15, 2019. http://www.ataun.net/BIBLIOTECAGRATUITA/ Classics%20in%20English/Charles%20Darwin/The%20Variation%20of%20 Animals%20and%20Plants%20under%20Domestication.%20Volume%20I.pdf.

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Odell, Dawn. “Porcelain, Print Culture, and Mercantile Aesthetics.” In The Cultural Aesthetics of Eighteenth-Century Porcelain, edited by Michael E. Yonan, 141–58. Abingdon: Routledge, 2010. Pan, Jixing 潘吉星. Zhongwai Kexue Zhi Jiaoliu 中外科學之交流. Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1993. Pauly, Daniel. Darwin’s Fishes: An Encyclopedia of Ichthyology, Ecology, and Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Peng, Ying-Chen 彭盈真. “Lingering between Tradition and Innovation: Photographic Portraits of Empress Dowager Cixi.” Ars Orientalis 43 (2013): 157–74. Pierson, Stacey. Collectors, Collections and Museum: The Field of Chinese Ceramics in Britain, 1560–1960. Oxford: Peter Lang, 2007. Pietsch, Ulrich, Anette Loesch, and Eva Ströber. China, Japan, Meißen: Die Porzellansammlung zu Dresden. München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2006. Pietsch, Ulrich and Cordula Bischoff eds. Japanisches Palais zu Dresden: die Königliche Porzellansammlung Augusts des Starken. München: Hirmer, 2014. Pommeranz, Johannes. “Von ‘Adams Paumen’ und ‘Citrin epffel’: Zu Zitrusgewächsen in deutschen Pflanzenbüchern der Frühen Neuzeit.” In Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur, edited by Yasmin Doosry, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz, 205–33. Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011. Pommeranz, Johannes. “‘Schöne Zitron und Appelsina’ Die Anfänge des Transalpinen, Zitrushandels und Seine Bildquellen.” In Die Frucht der Verheißung: Zitrusfrüchte in Kunst und Kultur, edited by Yasmin Doosry, Christiane Lauterbach, and Johannes Pommeranz, 307–35. Nürnberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2011. Rackham, Bernard. “A Chinese Bowl Purchased by H. M. the Queen for the New Government House, Delhi.” The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 28, no. 156 (1916): 245–7. Saurma-Jeltsch, Lieselotte E. “Introduction.” In The Power of Things and the Flow of Cultural Transformations, edited by Lieselotte E. Saurma-Jeltsch and Anja Eisenbeiß, 10–22. München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2010. ­Shih, Ching-Fei 施靜菲. “Gongting yu Difang de Hudong.” In Riyue Guanghua (Radiant Luminance: The Painted Enamelware of the Qing Imperial Court), 161–212. Taipei: National Palace Museum, 2012. Shih, Ching-Fei 施靜菲 and Chong-Ci Wang 王崇齊. “Imperial ‘Guang falang’ of the Qianlong Period Manufactured by the Guangdong Maritime Customs.” Taida Journal of Art History, no. 36 (2013): 87–184. Stephan, Manfred. “Der Wintergarten König Luwigs II. von Bayern.” In Goldorangen, Lorbeer und Palmen—Orangeriekultur vom 16. bis 19. Jahrhundert, 224–41. Petersberg: Michael Imhof Verlag, 2010. Thietje, Gisela. 300 Jahre Orangerie- und Gewächshauskultur in der Eutiner Residenz, Potsdam: Arbeitskreis Orangerien in Deutschland, 2006.

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University of Cambridge. “Darwin Correspondence Project.” Published 2018. https:// www.darwinproject.ac.uk/search/?keyword=Edward+Blyth&tab=. Van Campen, Jan. De Haagse Jurist Jean Theodore Royer (1737–1807): en Zijn Verzameling Chinese Voorwerpen. Hilversum: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2000. Van Campen, Jan. Royers Chinese Kabinet: Voorwerpen uit China verzameld door Jean Theodore Royer (1737–1807). Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum and Zwolle: Waanders, 2000. Victoria and Albert Museum. “William Giuseppi Gulland.” Accessed April 2019. http:// www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/w/william-giuseppi-gulland/. Wang, Cheng-Hua 王正華. “Portraits of the Empress Dowager Cixi and Their Public Roles.” Taida Journal of Art History, no. 32 (2012): 239–320. Wang, Guangyao 王光堯 and Guo Xingkuan 郭興寬 eds. Guanyang Yuci: Gugong Bowuyuancang Qingdai Zhici Guanyang Yu Yuyao Ciqi 官樣御瓷─故宮博物院藏 清代製瓷官樣與御窯瓷器. Beijing: Zijincheng chubanshe, 2007. Yu, Pei-Jin 余佩瑾. “The Emperor Qianlong’s Ideal Imperial Kiln, as Seen in the Illustrated Album of Ceramics Making.” In Gugong Xueshu Jikan, 185–235. Taipei: National Palace Museum, 2013.

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T ­ ransformative Containers: Individual Jars and Modes of Agency

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7

The Jars Have Ears: Circulation and Proliferation of Chinese Prototype Container Jars and their Offspring in Asia Louise Allison Cort

“What are those things for?” When showing an Asian container jar to museum visitors, this is a familiar question. To a researcher or curator, those loops or lugs of clay attached around the shoulders of the jar at even intervals are so commonplace that we might not even register them. In our closer observations, we take note of the number of clay loops—most often four—and their orientation—horizontal or vertical—when considering the likely place of origin or date of the vessel, but their presence does not take us by surprise. To such questions, my usual cautious answer has been, “We assume they were used to help tie down a stopper or lid to keep the jar’s contents inside, but we can’t really be sure.” Some of the first real proof of this hypothesis came only with the 2013 discovery of the wreck of an Arab dhow, known as the Phanom Surin Shipwreck, in marshy land along the present edge of the Gulf of Thailand.1 At the time of its demise in the late eighth or early ninth century, the ship was traversing more expansive open waters now filled by sedimentation, calling at flourishing settlements associated with the Dvaravati culture, which lasted from the sixth to the eleventh century. Emblematic of vigorous trade, its cargo included a mixture of local earthenware cooking pots, amphorae of types associated with West Asia, and stoneware container jars from Tang China (618–907). Thanks to the damp conditions of the wreck’s burial, some of the Chinese jars still held long fragments of vegetable-fiber cord knotted into the lugs on their shoulders (Figure 7.1/Plate 16).2 Here at last was proof of how those applied projections were used, at least in some instances.

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Figure 7.1  Container jar with four horizontal lugs, used in Japan for tea-leaf storage and named Chigusa. China, Guangdong Province. Southern Song or Yuan Dynasty, mid-thirteenth to mid-fourteenth century. Stoneware with iron glaze, 41.6 × 36.6 cm (16 3/8 × 14 7/16 in). Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, Purchase— Charles Lang Freer Endowment, F2016.20.1. Copyright: Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution.

This chapter uses the term container jar to denote vessels that were meant to transport commercial contents securely over long distances and thus required a snug stopper or lid and ears for attaching cords to affix it firmly. The term is useful for distinguishing the role of such vessels from that of storage jars, which (although the term is often used generically) can be understood more precisely as jars meant to be installed in one place for storing or processing their contents. Some examples of storage jars will be considered at the close of this chapter. A closely related question is what kind of cover the cords secured. No ceramic lids were reported from the Phanom Surin Wreck. In any case a ceramic lid alone would not have been sufficient to make a tight seal on a container jar. More likely, some sort of plug, made from wood or another durable material, that could fit

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snugly into the jar’s neck, was used.3 In Japan, mushroom-shaped paulowniawood plugs were used to stopper tea-leaf storage jars, the prototypes for which were imported Chinese jars, as will be discussed here. It is quite probable that Japanese users adopted not only the imported container jars, but the type of wooden plug used with them. In Japan, however, sheets of heavy paper pasted in place over the plug and onto the jar’s neck held the wooden plug in place; the lugs did not play a role. In modern-day Thailand, thick coatings of lime plaster secure the plugged mouths of commercial container jars of fish sauce and other liquid commodities. By contrast, typical storage jars used domestically do not have ears, as the lid can be loose; a wooden board or a piece of paper can protect the contents from insects and dust.4 This chapter also introduces the term used in numerous Asian cultures for the clay loops on the shoulders of container jars: ears. In many cultural contexts, vocabulary for the parts of container jars suggests that people appear to have felt a particular affinity with the bodies of large jars, naming their parts with terms used for the human body. Thus, jars have mouths, necks, shoulders, hips, and feet.5 They may also have ears. That term (er 耳) is used in Chinese, as is an alternative term meaning tether (xi, 系 or 繫), reflecting the function of securing a cord.6 The lugs are termed ears in Thai (hu หู) and Japanese (mimi 耳) as well.7 In Vietnam, ethnic Vietnamese (Kinh) call jars with lugs ear jars (tai ché), while ethnic Katu in the Central Highlands use a term directly translating the Vietnamese, c’tar zớ.8 It is impossible to say whether this commonality in East and Southeast Asia of ear as the name of a jar part—or even the dominant trait of a jar—represents a shared perception of the semi-circular projections on jars or a transmission of the Chinese term together with Chinese container jars. The Chinese jars with ears from the Phanom Surin Shipwreck are among the earliest evidence recovered from contexts outside China of how such jars circulated in international trade. Possibly people at distant ports who first encountered them asked the same question about the unfamiliar ears—“What are these things for?” But their practical use was immediately clear and attractive. Chinese jars with ears became prototypes for stoneware container jars produced in contexts throughout East and Southeast Asia over many centuries. After considering the origins of container jars with ears in China, this chapter will take up five case studies of jars with ears in the Chinese model made in Vietnam, Thailand, and Japan—all countries that received regular shipments of Chinese container jars and incorporated them into local material culture. These case studies, based on my field work and research, represent just a few options among many.

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Looking beyond the practical aspects, the chapter will also consider the aesthetic dimensions of the impact these Chinese container jars with ears made on various cultures to which they were introduced. Although Chinese jars served as models for locally made jars that replicated their salient features, they retained a distinctive status in those adoptive cultures because of their origins in the venerated context of China. Even when local versions were available, Chinese jars remained preferable for both practical and intangible reasons. In practical terms, they were lighter-weight and stronger than the local equivalents. In some instances in Japan and Vietnam, however, to be described here, individual Chinese container jars were also perceived as objects of beauty, elevated from storeroom to reception room, and put on display in their own right. Such jars became treasured heirlooms. Their ears were components of their attractiveness. Ultimately in Japan, as the final case study will show, the abstracted form of a Chinese container jar became the model for decorated jars made in Japan that served no practical function at all. Nonetheless, their echoes of a Chinese jar form, with ears, were key to their role.

The Birthplace of Jars with Ears The Chinese jars from the Phanom Surin Shipwreck provide more than just evidence for the use of those mysterious ears, as welcome as that is. They show that kilns in Guangdong Province were the major source of the Chinese container jars in play in the repertories of vessels that took part in the already dynamic trade linking China, Southeast Asia, and West Asia by the late eighth or early ninth century. As such, they were among the earliest models for container jars with ears. On the Phanom Surin Wreck, jars identified as coming from the Xinhui kilns in central Guangdong Province each bore thin, pale green glaze on the upper half of their squat, flat-based bodies and four to six ears on their shoulders. Some jar shoulders were incised with the Chinese character ji 吉 (fortunate), which might indicate a wish for the safe and successful transport of the contents. The only extant jars on the ship with cord still strung through their six ears, made of buff stoneware with thin, dark brown glaze, came from the Fengkai kilns in western Guangdong Province.9 The small number of jars on the Phanom Surin Shipwreck suggests that they were equipment for the ship’s crew rather than containers for merchandise or saleable items in their own right. Another shipwreck of almost the same age confirms that our earliest archaeological evidence for activities at the kilns in Guangdong Province begins

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when production was already flourishing, turning out a highly specialized repertory. The Belitung Shipwreck (or Tang Shipwreck) was another Arab ship in Southeast Asian waters, and when it sank southeast of Sumatra off the coast of Belitung Island soon after 826 (the date incised on a bowl recovered from the wreck),10 it was headed to West Asia after stops at various Chinese ports, where it had loaded up on a rich array of trade goods.11 It was well equipped with hundreds of Guangdong container jars, which transported everything from star anise to lead ingots to ceramic bowls.12 The plain container jars with greenishyellow glaze have received little scholarly attention compared to the gold and gilt-silver vessels, porcelain, celadon, and green lead-glazed ceramics, and nearly 60,000 decorated stoneware bowls from the Changsha kilns, Henan Province, but they reveal a great deal about the concerted manufacture of container jars in southern China by the ninth century. The Guangdong jars on the Belitung Shipwreck came in four distinct sizes. The smallest size corresponded to the jars found on the Phanom Surin Wreck (typical height 24 cm, diameter 22 cm). Their nearly square proportions, with broad, flat bases, show they were designed for maximum stability. Some had a short spout on the shoulders aligned with the position of four or six ears. In addition to these small jars, the Belitung also carried Guangdong jars defined as medium (height 42 cm, diameter 42 cm), large (height 78 cm, diameter 50 cm), and massive (height 98 cm, diameter 77 cm).13 Sharon Wai-yee Wong identifies the kilns that made the Belitung container jars as Xinhui and Chaozhou in central and eastern Guangdong Province.14 Jars of still smaller sizes (height 15 cm) were recovered from the Xinhui kiln site, indicating that the total system of Guangdong container jars was larger than that represented on the Belitung Shipwreck. The regularity of the Guangdong jar sizes shows that they were classified by some principle that probably related to volume rather than height. Most likely, they reflected units of the standard Chinese system of weight. It also seems likely that this system was introduced to the international maritime markets along with the Chinese container jars themselves, as Jung Young-Hwa demonstrates for Korean jars of the Goryeo period from the eleventh century onward.15 Chinese units became the standard in Japan, where sixteenth-century records show that tea-leaf storage jar sizes were assessed by volume in the unit of weight kin 斤 (Chinese jin), part of the Japanese adoption of Chinese systems of weights and measures. Further comparative study of the volumetric systems for families of container jars made and used throughout Asia is essential to a better understanding of the interrelationship of container-jar families.

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Ho Chuimei’s intensive field study of ninth-century kiln sites in Guangdong Province revealed six main clusters of production, with a total of thirty-five individual sites.16 She termed the type of container jar made for transport “coarse green glazed wares.”17 The ears of the jars found on the Phanom Surin and Belitung reflect this characterization: they are quickly formed from short, fat coils of clay, both ends pressed down onto the jar’s shoulders with the center rising in a low arch. This workmanship contrasts with other products of the Guangdong kilns—green-glazed jars with more elaborate, carefully-made ears and burnished black unglazed jars, found mainly in tombs—and underscores a specific, workaday market for the coarse jars.18

Early Offspring of Guangdong Container Jars in Northern Vietnam The earliest replicas outside China of Guangdong-style container jars with four or six ears were made at kilns in northern Vietnam, which was under Chinese rule until the early eleventh century. The arrival of Guangdong container jars in trade sparked production of the replicas. Seven kiln sites are known to have been active in the region during the first millennium.19 Four of them, falling late in the chronological sequence, made small container jars with ears in the manner of the Guangdong kilns. Only one kiln, Tuần Chậu, situated on a coastal island north of the Red River mouth and active in the eighth to ninth centuries, produced large quantities of container jars bearing yellow-green glaze. The capacity to produce replicas of Guangdong-style glazed container jars with ears depended upon mastering the technology for building kilns to fire glazed ware at high temperature with a controlled atmosphere. In her study of the seven sites and their evolution, Béatrice Wisniewski proposes that the technology, like the jar form itself, was introduced from China.20 Unfortunately, not enough is known yet about early kiln technology in Guangdong to draw a clear connection. The small-size four-ear Guangdong jars and their northern Vietnamese replicas are close enough in appearance that it is not yet certain how many Chinese jars found in Vietnamese contexts have been confused with local products. Similarly, Wisniewski argues, a search remains to be made in overseas contexts for Vietnamese glazed four-ear container jars from Tuần Chậu confused with Guangdong jars, as she contends the scale of Tuần Chậu production suggests the possibility of serving an export market.21

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Whereas glazed four-ear jars constituted less than 2 percent of production at the three other late kilns, which were located inland along rivers and made mainly unglazed four-ear jars, glazed jars made up nearly 94  percent of the output from Tuần Chậu.22 The other products were bowls, basins, and—most interestingly—lids.23 Perhaps these bowl-shaped lids, with rounded or squared corners, reflect Guangdong products not yet studied. Fitting loosely when inverted over the jar’s mouth, they could not have sealed it, although they could have concealed an actual plug (and been held in place with cord passed through the ears), or they could have protected the contents of an already-opened jar. Glazed container jars from Tuần Chậu and the other late kilns approximated the Guangdong prototypes even to the extent of sometimes including potter’s marks incised between two ears.24 This uncanny similarity supports the likelihood that Guangdong potters participated in the introduction of kilns and firing procedures for making green-glazed container jars. At the same time, kiln site evidence suggests ways in which Vietnamese potters gradually changed the Guangdong prototypes to suit local taste. On jars from Ðủỏng Xá (active ninth to tenth century), the ears take on a delicate, butterfly-like shape as their two ends are pressed downward and elongated.25 Some container jars from Tuần Chậu and Ðủỏng Xá show a shift from the everted neck of the Guangdong container jar to a short inverted neck that would come to characterize many later jars produced in northern Vietnam.26 This shift suggests that the Guangdong fourear container jar form was being modified to suit local uses that did not involve long-distance transport of securely-enclosed contents—it was being converted to a “storage jar.”

­Container Jars for Everything and Everywhere In the tenth century, the Guangdong container jar underwent a marked change in form for reasons that are not entirely clear.27 The body shifted from a barrel shape to a vessel with a narrow, elongated neck and rolled rim, broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and narrow foot—a form that would persist as the typical container jar shape through the sixteenth century.28 The glaze was thicker and honey-brown or dark brown. The four ears became proportionately smaller and more attention was given to their shape. Jars of this new sort, from kilns in Guangdong as well as from adjacent Fujian Province, are found abundantly on shipwrecks scattered along Asian maritime routes, such as the mid-twelfthcentury Java Sea Shipwreck or the early fourteenth-century Sinan Shipwreck.29

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Here we will consider one prominent result of that prolific distribution of the new style of Chinese container jars throughout Asia. Another example of an offspring, the Maenam Noi kilns in north central Thailand served the seemingly insatiable appetite for container jars in the port of Ayutthaya and beyond, churning out great numbers of jars as their chief products over three centuries or more. 30 Space does not permit discussion here of another comparable Southeast Asian center for production of four-ear container jars. The kilns near the Mon port of Martaban (modern Myanmar/Burma) produced black-glazed container jars with distinctive white-slip decoration.31 The term Martaban came to be attached indiscriminately to varieties of container jars from diverse sources distributed in Southeast Asia in particular.32 The Maenam Noi kiln complex (also known as Singburi, after the province, or Bang Rachan, after the district) was situated on the river of the same name, which connected it to the commercial hub and capital of Ayutthaya. As Ayutthaya prospered as an international port during the Ayutthaya Period (1350–1767), its need for container jars expanded. At first, they were supplied by the existing ceramic center of Si Satchanalai (Sawankhalok), considerably further north. The Maenam Noi kilns appear to have been established for the explicit purpose of replacing Si Satchanalai as a source of container jars, while Si Satchanalai focused on its successful production of glazed celadon and iron-decorated vessels for export (competing with Chinese trade ceramics of a different sort).33 Robust container jars were the main products of the Maenam Noi kilns (Figure 7.2/Plate 17). Like earlier Guangdong container jars, they were built to endure rough handling on long ocean voyages. The four ears on their shoulders were thick, made with the consideration of durability rather than aesthetics. Like the thin yellow-green glaze on Guangdong container jars, the dark brown glaze on Maenam Noi jars resulted from practical use of local materials, notably ironbearing clay, to make a basic coating for the jars, not to beautify them. Unlike the light-colored clay of Guangdong container jars, the clay body of the Maenam Noi jars was dark brown, making a brown glaze suitable, but the choice also reflected the shift in Guangdong container jars of later centuries from yellowgreen to brown or black glazes. The focus on jar production required kilns with large capacities, and excavated Maenam Noi kilns are the largest known in mainland Southeast Asia. Maenam Noi jars clearly reflect a system of sizes that was understood by both the potters and the merchants who used the jars.34 Wide-bodied, barrel-shaped container jars were made in two major variant forms—with a short, everted neck and four ears (as in Figure 7.2/Plate 17), or with no neck, a thick rolled rim, and

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Figure 7.2  Container jar with four horizontal lugs. Thailand, Singburi Province, Maenam Noi kilns. Ayutthaya period, fifteenth to seventeenth century. Stoneware with iron glaze, 51.5 × 41 cm (20 1/4 × 16 1/8 in). Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Osborne. Copyright: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution.

four ears. Both types were made in small (height 25–30 cm), medium (height 45 cm), and large (height 60 cm) sizes. In addition, a small, slender-bodied jar (height 30 cm) was another mainstay of production. The capacity of this range of jars with respect to the Chinese system of volume and weight has not yet been determined, although Thai records show that Ayutthaya asked to be supplied with the new Chinese set of official weights and measures in the early fifteenth century.35 The Maenam Noi repertory represents less variation than that of the Guangdong kilns in the ninth century, but it must have suited the requirements of the Ayutthaya traders, who dealt extensively in forestry products including pepper, sappanwood for red dye, aromatic woods, raw lacquer, and medicinal ingredients.36 (The container jars recovered from the fifteenth-century Koh S’dech Shipwreck off the coast of Cambodia—a vessel that had headed out from Ayutthaya with a cargo of

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Maenam Noi container jars and earthenware cooking pots from the workshops in Ayutthaya—suggest a greater range of container jar sizes and variety of shapes that may not have been captured in published studies.)37 A rich abundance of evidence is available to tell the story of Maenam Noi fourear container jars. The Maenam Noi clay body, glaze, and forms are distinctive, and the jars can be identified everywhere—not just in shipwrecks but also in land sites representing destinations as well as reuse and preservation. Shipwreck sites themselves testify to the extensive reuse of the durable jars. The fifteenthcentury Cu Lao Cham Shipwreck, recovered off the coast of central Vietnam, transported a cargo of some 250,000 ceramics from kilns in the Red River delta of northern Vietnam; Maenam Noi jars held small pieces for safe shipment (just as Guangdong container jars had held Changsha bowls).38 Those Thai jars must have made at least one previous trip northward. Land site discoveries range from Japan to Amsterdam. In Japan, the site of a lacquer workshop in Kyoto yielded a Maenam Noi jar still holding remnants of its shipment of Southeast Asian lacquer sap.39 Numerous Maenam Noi container jars appear in excavations of the welldated strata of the moated port city of Sakai, which flourished in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and document reuse as well as use for shipment. Two Maenam Noi jars from the site of a storehouse in Sakai had been reused for holding sulfur, an ingredient of gunpowder—one source of Sakai’s prosperity as warring Japanese military factions embraced the muskets introduced by the Portuguese.40 Circulated in trade, Maenam Noi jars themselves became models for production of jars in cultures they touched. In the island kingdom and entrepôt of Ryūkyū, where Maenam Noi jars are recovered, kilns sprang up after the fifteenth century to produce four-ear container jars made of unglazed brown stoneware clay.41 Those jars were favored as vessels for the indigenous distilled rice liquor, awamori, said to be inspired by Thai rice liquor perhaps imported in Maenam Noi jars. Most local Ryūkyū kilns have ceased operation, but so identified with awamori are unglazed stoneware storage jars that distilleries now import replicas from kilns in Vietnam.42

One from Many Swarms of Maenam Noi four-ear container jars, one virtually indistinguishable from another, penetrated maritime trade routes, including those to Japan. Earlier, by the early fourteenth century, Chinese four-ear container jars had reached Japan in similar quantities. There, most Chinese jars, once emptied, recirculated

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as container jars. They were found to have special merit as containers for tea, which was becoming an important commodity in Japan and which required jars to transport the leaves from plantation to market or home and to store the leaves for some months until their flavor mellowed.43 Japanese kilns also made jars for storing tea, but Japanese diaries and temple records attest that the lightweight and attractively glazed Chinese imports were most desirable.44 This section focuses on one such Chinese container jar at the opposite extreme from the Maenam Noi products—not one of numberless, essentially standardized and disposable containers, but an individual embodiment of aesthetic concepts centering on deep admiration for Chinese culture. In the context of tea drinking, which emerged as a major cultural activity for elite warriors and nobility, and eventually for prosperous merchants, Chinese jars were subject to a separate but related culling on the basis of aesthetics rather than function. Tea drinking in Japan took place in a dedicated small room featuring an alcove (tokonoma), where calligraphy, vases with flowers, and other objects were displayed to set the tone for the gathering. Occasionally tea hosts displayed their Chinese tealeaf storage jars. In particular the jars came on view on the annual occasion in late autumn of opening the jar of new tea and serving it for the first time. Such display of Chinese jars created a context for connoisseurship, by which Chinese jars deemed particularly attractive for their form and glaze were singled out and, as befitting a special object, given a poetic name. One such jar, made at a Guangdong kiln in the late thirteenth or fourteenth century and swept up by tea connoisseurship, was named Chigusa, myriad grasses (Figure 7.1/Plate 16 and Figure 7.3/Plate 18).45 The name is a fragment of classical Japanese poetry. The naming took place sometime between the jar’s arrival in Japan and its emergence in documents relating to tea-drinking events when the jar was displayed and discussed. Late sixteenth-century diaries kept by participants in tea events detail the agreed-upon points of Chigusa’s excellence— its ruddy clay, swelling form, and mottled glaze, and of course its four ears.46 They record its capacity—5–6 kin of tea (3,000–3,600 grams)—for it did not cease to perform its practical duty. But they also pay attention to the silk textiles that proud past owners had provided for the jar. In one mode of adornment, the jar’s four ears, protruding between the scalloped edges of the antique Chinese silk mouth cover, secured silk cords tied in elaborate knots that hung nearly to the ground. These costly textiles disguised the paper-coated wooden plug sealing the jar’s mouth and prepared the jar for dignified public display. On Chigusa and other Chinese jars assigned to use as tea-leaf storage jars in Japan, the standard four ears on the shoulder no longer served a practical

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Figure 7.3  Tea-leaf storage jar, named Chigusa, adorned for display in a tea room with silk brocade mouth cover and knotted silk cords. China, Guangdong Province. Southern Song or Yuan Dynasty, mid-thirteenth to mid-fourteenth century. Stoneware with iron glaze, 41.6 × 36.6 cm (16 3/8 × 14 7/16 in). Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, Purchase— Charles Lang Freer Endowment, F2016.20.1. Copyright: Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution.

function to secure a lid. Instead, they became a no less essential part of the jar’s ornamentation. Jar ears played this role in other cultures as well. Chinese and other jars of foreign origin (including some from the Maenam Noi kilns) introduced by trade to the cultures of the Central Highlands of Vietnam found a role in brewing rice beer, an essential component of household and community feasts.47 Such jars became valuable family and community heirlooms. On occasions of special use, the jar ears supported garlands of another exotic heirloom—strands of red glass trade beads imported from China or Europe. In Japan, the scrutiny that took place in the context of tea drinking created a group of antique Chinese tea-leaf storage jars with known names and agreedupon special merits. The meaning of such jars shifted further away from

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their function as container jars when they became a focus of collecting by the warriors who vied for political control of the land in the turbulent late decades of the sixteenth century. The ability to amass collections of jars and other tea utensils was a measure of power over rivals, and powerful men demonstrated their strength in public displays of their possessions. The presentations took place not in intimate tea rooms but in the grand spaces of major temples and shrines, palaces, or castles.48 As Morgan Pitelka notes, the named antique jars that formed the centerpieces of “spectacular displays,”49 with their tall bodies approaching the scale of human torsos and their anthropomorphic attributes of mouths, necks, ears, shoulders, hips, and feet, served as proxies for the powerful rulers who owned and displayed them.

Four Ears and White Hips In Japan, Chinese four-ear container jars provided enduring models of the proper jar for storing tea. This role reflected Japanese admiration and respect for Chinese cultural precedents. In the seventeenth century, as the new Tokugawa government (1603–1868) established its rules for governing a country made up of dozens of domains ruled over by military leaders, or daimyo, it turned to reciprocal gift exchanges as a core means of controlling loyalty and the flow of wealth.50 As a component of this system, the government established a system for bestowing annual gifts of tea to powerful associates. In order to do so, it set up production of suitable jars for packing the gift tea and decreed that the new jars would emulate the shape and glaze of antique four-ear Chinese tea-leaf storage jars. The jars were made in Shigaraki, southeast of Kyoto, where farmers had made unglazed storage jars since the thirteenth century. Shigaraki products reached Kyoto and other nearby markets. Urban connoisseurs engaged in tea drinking took note that Shigaraki’s local clay took on an attractive red-orange sheen when fired.51 Through merchant intermediaries, they encouraged Shigaraki potters to apply their jar-making skills to making tea utensils, notably freshwater jars and vases. The reddish, stony, unglazed clay became the hallmark of Shigaraki tea vessels. While unglazed Shigaraki tea utensils enjoyed popularity, however, Shigaraki potters, encouraged by their local landlords, were experimenting with ways to make their jars more closely resemble the Chinese models. They learned how to remove stones from the clay so that they could throw thin-walled vessels.

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They practiced how to make and apply iron-brown glaze.52 They introduced a new type of kiln that made glaze firing more successful. Not coincidentally, they sometimes added four ears to the new type of jar they were making.53 Thus, Shigaraki potters were well prepared to fill the orders for tea-leaf storage jars for the Tokugawa government (Figure 7.4/Plate 19).54 The procedure began in 1633. The rules were explicit and strict. The jars were made of well-refined white clay. Their ovoid shape approximated that of Chinese tea-leaf storage jars. Four ears rested on the shoulders. Brown glaze covered the neck and upper body, while clear glaze coated the lower body. Splashes of ash glaze between each pair of ears created intentional variation in the dark brown glaze like that occurring naturally on the Chinese jars. The clear glaze neatly mimicked the unglazed lower body of most Chinese jars but created a more polished appearance. Its use led to the nickname by which the jars were known, white-hipped jars (koshijiro

Figure 7.4  Shigaraki ware official tea jar. Japan, Shiga prefecture, Shigaraki, Nagano kilns. Edo period, 1800–1868. Stoneware with iron, ash, and white glazes, 38 cm × 33 cm diam. (15 in × 13 in diam). Portland Art Museum, Museum Purchase: Margery Hoffman Smith Fund, with additional funds provided by the Autzen Foundation, Asian Art Council, and Women’s Council, 81.97.9. Copyright: Portland Art Museum.

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tsubo). (The name that appears in administrative documents is official tea jars [goyō chatsubo].) Official tea jar production was the prerogative of three to five selected Shigaraki workshops, which enjoyed hereditary rights. Together the workshops provided eighty to one hundred jars each season, but they made ten times that number to allow for selection of only the finest specimens. Fourteen sizes of jars ranged from 10.6 centimeters tall (holding 2 gō 合, 0.36 liter) of tea to 57.6 centimeters tall (holding 1 to 斗, 18 liters). The official jars were fired only in the kiln chambers that gave the best results; ordinary glazed wares filled the other chambers. Finished jars were transported to designated tea plantations in Uji to be filled, and the filled jars were transported by bearers in a conspicuous procession along the Tōkaidō highway to Edo Castle. They were subsidiary to the antique Chinese tea-leaf storage jars owned by the shogunate and filled with tea for the ruler’s use, which took pride of place in the procession. Whereas the precious Chinese jars were carefully preserved and refilled year after year, the new jars from Shigaraki were expendable.55 Recent excavations at sites of daimyo residences in Edo and daimyo castles throughout the country have yielded abundant finds of Shigaraki official tea jars.56 Indications are that once emptied of tea they were put to use for other everyday storage needs, much the way we reuse an empty glass jar that held pasta sauce. Notably, however, the jars are recovered only from sites of high-ranking warriors’ residences, not from those of lower-ranking warriors or townspeople. Even empty, the jars as remnants of gifts from the government retained their prestige and had limited circulation.

Painted Beauties Shigaraki official tea jars replicated the classic style of Chinese container jars established at Guangdong kilns from the tenth century onward. Those jars were rarely decorated; at most, they sometimes bore small floral motifs or logos stamped on the shoulder between each pair of ears.57 In the sixteenth century, however, some Guangdong jars began to flaunt markedly more elaborate decoration. Tiers of incised decoration on the jars’ shoulders (incised vine scroll motifs) and bodies (floral vine scrolls) follow the pattern of painting decoration on cobalt-decorated porcelain vessels and may represent an effort to compete in the same market.58 The four horizontal ears on each received careful attention, bearing impressed closely spaced ribbing. The yellow glaze extended all the way

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to the jars’ bases. Such jars were excavated from tombs in Guangdong, and they have been found in Vietnam, leading to their misattribution as Vietnamese.59 Their purpose is unknown, but they have the eye-catching quality of a candy box holding a special gift. Around the same time, other yellow-glazed jars appeared that bore sprigged-on relief motifs of dragons or phoenixes and ears shifted from horizontal to vertical placement.60 There is no room here to discuss those jars, but they are part of the larger story of Chinese container jars that continued to evolve and claim a significant share of the international market.61 In Japan, ornamentation of Chinese-style four-ear container jars was taken to an extreme in the work of the acclaimed Kyoto-based potter Nonomura Ninsei (active ca. 1646–77). Filling a commission for a wealthy provincial daimyo for use in his new residence in Edo, Ninsei made a series of jars that replicate all the salient features of Chinese container jars (Figure 7.5/Plate 20). Yet Oka Yoshiko

Figure 7.5  Jar with design of mynah birds, by Nonomura Ninsei (active ca. 1646–77). Japan, Kyoto, Edo period, 1670s. Stoneware with colored and silver enamels over white glaze, 30.5 × 24.1 cm (12 × 9½ in). Asia Society and Museum, New York. Copyright: Asia Society and Museum.

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contends that these jars had no practical purpose whatsoever: meant to contain nothing (not even tea leaves), they were conceived solely as vehicles for Ninsei’s elaborate pictorial decoration painted in overglaze enamels, a technique newly introduced to Japan from China.62 Their role was to ornament the display alcove of a formal reception room, as a painting would. The variety of painted motifs enveloping the jar bodies included landscapes, flowers, and birds. For all the exciting newness of the decor, however, the classic presence and shape of four ears on the shoulders would have reminded the admiring viewer that the context for these “paintings” was, after all, the esteemed Chinese antique tea-leaf storage jar and its display in tea gatherings or public spectacles.

Jars without Ears We have considered a series of instances illustrating the impact of Chinese fourear container jars in the realms to which international maritime trade carried them. But it is important not to forget all the families of storage jars that did not have ears. These include brown-glazed barrel-shaped jars made by potters in the Angkor kingdom,63 gray unglazed stoneware jars from the Suphanburi kilns in Thailand, Bizen-ware sake vats in Japan, and brown-glazed onggi jars in Korea. These jar families, and many others like them, have in common uses that did not require long-distance transportation of jars with their contents. Once full of fermenting vegetables or alcohol or indigo dye, the jars remained in one place. Of the jar families just mentioned, only huge vats from Suphanburi in Thailand are known to have been found in shipwrecks, and it is assumed that they were placed on board to hold drinking water.64 Ears mark jars meant to move; earless jars stayed put.

W ­ hose Hands? As this chapter concludes, it is worth taking a very close look at the ears on the various kinds of container jars we have considered. Whose hands shaped them? Might there be traces of women or children in the workshop, assisting the men who did the heavy work of shaping the jars? Looking at the four ears on a particular jar—for example, the tea-leaf storage jar Chigusa—reveals small variations from ear to ear even within an established manner of shaping and attaching them. The format suggests commonalities in a

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certain place at a certain time. Conversely, more marked differences in ears show greater separations of space and time. As study of container jars intensifies, ears will provide one set of clues to identify and distinguish families of jars. In that sense, the answer to the question of what the ears are for includes declaring the identities of the jars that bear them.

Notes 1

2 3 4

5

6 7

8 9

Jumprom Preeyanuch, “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck: New Discovery of an Arab-style Shipwreck in Central Thailand,” Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum Newsletter 8, no. 1 (2014): 1–4. http://museum.bu.ac.th/Newsletter/SEACM_V8_ no1.pdf.; John Guy, “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck, a Pahlavi Inscription, and their Significance for the Early History of Lower Central Thailand,” Journal of the Siam Society 105 (2017): 179–96; John Guy, “Shipwrecks in Late First Millennium Southeast Asia: Southern China’s Maritime Trade and the Emerging Role of Arab Merchants in Indian Ocean Exchange,” in Early Global Interconnectivity across the Indian Ocean World, ed. Angela Schottenhammer (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 121–63. Preeyanuch, “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck.” Some Chinese plugs were made from a kind of papier-mâché (Anne Gerritsen, pers. comm.). Special earless jars used in homes in Northeast Thailand and Laos for fermenting fish bear two concentric mouth rims, the space between them filled with water and a clay bowl inverted over the mouth into the water to keep out rodents and insects. Evocations of these body parts attributed to jars appear in sixteenth-century Japanese records of jar viewings in tea gatherings. Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky, eds. Chigusa and the Art of Tea (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014), 208–11. A modern scholar’s encounter with jar body parts is found in Gerhard Wolf, “Image, Object, Art: Talking to a Chinese Jar on Two Human Feet,” Representations 133 (Winter 2016): 152–9. Thanks to Li Baoping for this information. Sixteenth-century Japanese tea diaries also use an alternative term for ears: nipples, emphasizing the perception of the swelling upper portion of the jar as its chest or breast. The Chinese-derived term mimi might have been adopted as standard around this time. Cort and Watsky, Chigusa and the Art of Tea, 211. Appreciation to Tran Ky Phuong for these terms. For a map showing the locations of the Xinhui and Fengkai kilns, see Sharon Wai-yee Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries

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10

11 12

13

14 15

16 17 18 19

­20

21 22

23

197

Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 336. Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby (eds.), Shipwrecked: Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds (Washington, DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; Singapore, National Heritage Board, Singapore Tourism Board, 2010), 36. Krahl et al., Shipwrecked, 201. Qin Dashu, Chang Jung Jung, and Yu Shan, “Early Results of an Investigation into Ancient Kiln Sites Producing Ceramic Storage Jars and Some Related Issues,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): figs. 5–9. Krahl et al., Shipwrecked, 235. Continuity of this scheme of jar sizes for shipboard use is suggested by the finds of four jar sizes on the mid-twelfth-century Java Sea Shipwreck: very small, small, medium, and large. Unfortunately, the initial report did not specify the criteria for these sizes, and closer study of the jar size range is a future project of the research team at the Field Museum, Chicago, where the wreck finds are housed. Lisa Niziolek, pers. comm. 2018. Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 338. Jung Young-Hwa, “Jars of the 12th–13th Century Koryeo Dynasty Excavated from Korean Shipwrecks,” paper presented at the conference Global Jars: Asian Containers as Transcultural Enclosures, Hong Kong Baptist University, Hong Kong, 8. September 9, 2018. Ho Chuimei, “The Guangdong Ceramics Industry and Ceramic Export Trade in the Late Tang Period,” Trade Ceramics Studies 12 (1992): 175–6. Ho, “The Guangdong Ceramics Industry,” 189. Ho, “The Guangdong Ceramics Industry,” 162; Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 338–40. Béatrice Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene du Premier Millénaire de Notre Ère. De l’apparition des fours à haut température à l’émergence d’une production organisée: étude archéologique,” 2 vols. (PhD diss., École Pratique des Hautes Études, Paris, 2012), 2: Map VI. Béatrice Wisniewski, “Une approche de la tradition céramique vietnamienne du premier millénare apr. J. C. L’appropriation de techniques issue du monde chinois,” Aseanie 26 (2010): 159–80. Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene,” 1: 429, 432. Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene,” 1: 427–9. Béatrice Wisniewski, “Les sites de production des jarres de stockage vietnamiennes pour le commerce maritime, du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle: état de la recherche,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 319, fig. 3. The kiln site was excavated in 2008. Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene,” 2: pls. LXXX–LXXXV.

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24 Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene,” 2: pls. XXXIII, XCVIII. 25 Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene,” 2: pl. XLVIII. 26 Wisniewski, “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene,” 2: pls. LXIV, LXIX; Nishimura Masanari, Betonamu no kōkogaku, kodaigaku (Archaeology and ancient history of Vietnam) (Tokyo: Dōseisha, 2011), 199, fig. 143-1 and 143-2. 27 Ho Chuimei suggests a general transformative impact of ceramics made at northern Chinese kilns. Ho, “The Guangdong Ceramics Industry,” 169–70. 28 Wong,, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 341, fig. 6. 29 Li Baoping and Li Jianan, “Chinese Storage Jars in China and Beyond,” in Chigusa and the Art of Tea, eds. Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014), 73–85; Lisa C. Niziolek, Gary M. Feinmana, Jun Kimura, Amanda Respessa, and Lu Zhang, “Revisiting the Date of the Java Sea Shipwreck from Indonesia,” Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 19 (June 2018): 781–90. 30 Also see the chapter by Atthasit Sukkham in the present volume. 31 Brigitte Borell, “A True Martaban Jar. A Burmese Ceramic Jar in the Ethnological Museum in Heidelberg (Germany),” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 2 (2014): 257–98. 32 See, for example, Borbala Nyiri, “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space: Martabani Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, East Malaysia” (PhD diss., University of Leicester, 2016). 33 Brown summarizes the shipwreck evidence of exported wares from the Si Satchanalai kilns: Roxanna Maude Brown, The Ming Gap and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware (Bangkok: The Siam Society, 2009). 34 Mukai Kō, summarized in Louise Allison Cort, “Container Jars from the Maenam Noi Kilns, Thailand: Use and Reuse along Maritime Trade Routes in Asia,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême Orient 103 (2017): 274–6. 35 Conservators at the Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, measured the volumes of Maenam Noi jars in the museum collection as 20 liters (small), 36 liters (medium), and 50 liters (large). On Chinese weights and measures used at Ayutthaya, see Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit, A History of Ayutthaya: Siam in the Early Modern World (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 53. 36 Baker and Phongpaichit, A History of Ayutthaya, 52, 59, 68–9, 71, 89, 119–41. 37 Author’s observation at site museum; Nancy Beavan, Tep Sokha, Ugo Zoppi, Blythe McCarthy et al., “Field Note: A Radiocarbon Date for the Koh S’dech Shipwreck, Koh Kong Province, Kingdom of Cambodia,” Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery (2008). https:// archive.asia.si.edu/publications/seaceramics/essays/resource_items_url_218.pdf.; Tep Sokha, “Discovery of Ceramics from the Koh Sdach Shipwreck, Koh Kong

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38 39

40 41

42 43

44

45 46 47

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Province, Cambodia” (2014). http://www.themua.org/collections/items/show/1620, accessed July 3, 2019. Treasures from the Hoi An Hoard 2000. Kitano Nobuhiko et al., “Momoyama bunkaki ni okeru rinyū urushinuriryo no ryūtsū to riyō ni kansuru chōsa (Investigation of commerce and use of lacquer during the Momoyama cultural era),” Hōzon rigaku 47 (2008): 37–52. Cort, “Container Jars from the Maenam Noi Kilns, Thailand.” Kyushu Ceramic Museum, Okinawa no yakimono—Nankai kara no kaori (Oninawan ceramics—fragrance of the South Seas) (Arita: Kyushu Ceramic Museum, 1998), 8–24. The author saw these jars in production in 2009. Ōmori Masashi, “The Science of Green Tea,” in Chigusa and the Art of Tea, eds. Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014), 94–7. The tea associated with tea-leaf storage jars was used for matcha—ground into a fine powder and whisked with hot water in the bowl from which it was drunk. Louise Allison Cort, Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley (Tokyo, New York, and San Francisco: Kodansha International, 1979), 4–26. Generic Japanese storage jars, without ears, served for storing tea, but Chinese jars provided the model for four-ear container jars, unglazed or with black glaze, made at Japanese kilns in the fourteenth to the sixteenth century. For examples, see Louise Allison Cort, Seto and Mino Ceramics (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art, 1992), no. 17. On the superior valuation of Chinese container jars in Japan, see Nishida Hiroko, “Chinese Storage Jars in Chanoyu” in Chigusa and the Art of Tea, eds. Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014), 86–93. Cort and Watsky, Chigusa and the Art of Tea. Cort and Watsky, Chigusa and the Art of Tea, 208–11. Luu Hung, “Introduction to Jars in the Life of Ethnic Groups in the Central Highlands of Vietnam,” in Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, eds. Louise Allison Cort with George Ashley Williams IV and David P. Rehfuss (2008). https://archive.asia.si.edu/ publications/seaceramics/default.php.; Louise Allison Cort and Leedom Lefferts, “Jars in the Central Highlands of Mainland Southeast Asia,” in Materializing Southeast Asia: Selected Papers from the 12th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, ed. M. J. Klokke (Singapore: NUS Press, 2013), 233–41; Brian Hayden, Feasting in Southeast Asia (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016); Tran Ky Phuong, “Ceramic Jars as ‘Prestige Goods’ in Katu Culture: Considering the Upland-Lowland Product Exchange

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Network Throughout History in Quang Nam Province, Vietnam,” SPAFA Journal 3 (2019). http://www.spafajournal.org/index.php/spafajournal/issue/view/131. 48 Louise Allison Cort, “The Grand Kitano Tea Gathering,” Chanoyu Quarterly 31 (1982): 15–31. 49 Morgan Pitelka, Spectacular Accumulation: Material Culture, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and Samurai Sociability (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016), 44–61. 50 Pitelka, Spectacular Accumulation, 65–93. 51 Cort, Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley, 127–82. 52 Cort, Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley, 118–22, 205. 53 Cort, Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley, fig. 99 (jar dated 1558). 54 Cort, Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley, 193–206. 55 Oka Yoshiko, “Kinsei Shigaraki no tōgyō (Shigaraki’s ceramic industry in the early modern period),” in Kōga-shi shi (Kōga City history) 5, ed. Koga-shi shi hensan iinkai (Koga-shi: Koga-shi, 2013), 88–125. 56 Suzuki Yūko, “Kantō chihō [Kantō region],” Tōyō tōji gakkai kaihō [Newsletter of the Oriental Ceramic Society of Japan] 86 (2016): 3 reports excavation of five large official tea jars (height 30 cm) from the storeroom in the Edo residence of a highranking vassal of the Tokugawa government. 57 Li and Li, “Chinese Storage Jars,” 81, fig. 1; Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 342, fig. 7. 58 Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 343–5, figs. 9–10. 59 For example, see John Stevenson and John Guy, eds., Vietnamese Ceramics: A Separate Tradition (Chicago: Art Media Resources, 1997), no. 316. 60 Wong, “Rethinking Storage Jars,” 347, fig. 13b. 61 For example, Nyiri, “Chasing Dragons.” 62 Oka Yoshiko, “The Jar with Design of Mynah Birds,” in Chigusa and the Art of Tea, eds. Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky (Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014), 171. 63 Armand Desbat, “Les jarres de stockage khmères (IXe–XIVe siècle),” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême Orient 103 (2017): 297–311. 64 Brown, The Ming Gap.

B ­ ibliography Baker, Chris, and Pasuk Phongpaichit. A History of Ayutthaya: Siam in the Early Modern World. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2017. Beavan, Nancy, Tep Sokha, Ugo Zoppi, Blythe McCarthy, Michael Schilling, Louise Cort, and Sylvia Fraser Lu. “Field Note: A Radiocarbon Date for the Koh S’dech Shipwreck, Koh Kong Province, Kingdom of Cambodia.” Ceramics in Mainland

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Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2008. https://archive.asia.si.edu/publications/seaceramics/essays/resource_items_ url_218.pdf. Borell, Brigitte. “A True Martaban Jar. A Burmese Ceramic Jar in the Ethnological Museum in Heidelberg (Germany).” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 2 (2014): 257–98. Brown, Roxanna Maude. The Ming Gap and Shipwreck Ceramics in Southeast Asia: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware. Bangkok: The Siam Society, 2009. Cort, Louise Allison. Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley. Tokyo, New York, and San Francisco: Kodansha International, 1979. Cort, Louise Allison. “The Grand Kitano Tea Gathering.” Chanoyu Quarterly 31 (1982): 15–31. Cort, Louise Allison. Seto and Mino Ceramics. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art, 1992. Cort, Louise Allison. “Container Jars from the Maenam Noi Kilns, Thailand: Use and Reuse along Maritime Trade Routes in Asia.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême Orient 103 (2017): 267–96. Cort, Louise Allison, and Leedom Lefferts. “Jars in the Central Highlands of Mainland Southeast Asia.” In Materializing Southeast Asia: Selected Papers from the 12th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, edited by M. J. Klokke, 233–41. Singapore: NUS Press, 2013. Cort, Louise Allison, and Andrew M. Watsky, eds. Chigusa and the Art of Tea. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014. Desbat, Armand. “Les jarres de stockage khmères (IXe–XIVe siècle).” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême Orient 103 (2017): 297–311. Guy, John. “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck, a Pahlavi Inscription, and their Significance for the Early History of Lower Central Thailand.” Journal of the Siam Society 105 (2017): 179–96. Guy, John. “Shipwrecks in Late First Millennium Southeast Asia: Southern China’s Maritime Trade and the Emerging Role of Arab Merchants in Indian Ocean Exchange.” In Early Global Interconnectivity across the Indian Ocean World, edited by Angela Schottenhammer, 121–63. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019. Hayden, Brian. Feasting in Southeast Asia. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016. Ho Chuimei. “The Guangdong Ceramics Industry and Ceramic Export Trade in the Late Tang Period.” Trade Ceramics Studies 12 (1992): 159–84, 188–9. ­Kitano Nobuhiko et al. “Momoyama bunkaki ni okeru rinyū urushinuriryo no ryūtsū to riyō ni kansuru chōsa (Investigation of commerce and use of lacquer during the Momoyama cultural era).” Hōzon rigaku 47 (2008): 37–52. Krahl, Regina, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson and Julian Raby, eds. Shipwrecked: Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds. Washington, DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; Singapore, National Heritage Board, Singapore Tourism Board, 2010. https://www.freersackler.si.edu/research/exhibition-catalogues/ shipwrecked-catalog/.

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Kyushu Ceramic Museum. Okinawa no yakimono—Nankai kara no kaori (Oninawan ceramics—fragrance of the South Seas). Arita: Kyushu Ceramic Museum, 1998. Li Baoping and Li Jianan. “Chinese Storage Jars in China and Beyond.” In Chigusa and the Art of Tea, edited by Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky, 73–85. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014. Luu Hung. “Introduction to Jars in the Life of Ethnic Groups in the Central Highlands of Vietnam.” In Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, edited by Louise Allison Cort with George Ashley Williams IV and David P. Rehfuss, 2008. https://archive.asia.si.edu/ publications/seaceramics/default.php. Nishida Hiroko. “Chinese Storage Jars in Chanoyu.” In Chigusa and the Art of Tea, edited by Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky, 86–93. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014. Nishimura Masanari. Betonamu no kōkogaku, kodaigaku (Archaeology and ancient history of Vietnam). Tokyo: Dōseisha, 2011. Niziolek, Lisa C., Gary M. Feinmana, Jun Kimura, Amanda Respessa, and Lu Zhang. “Revisiting the Date of the Java Sea Shipwreck from Indonesia.” Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 19 (June 2018): 781–90. Nyiri, Borbala. “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space: Martabani Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, East Malaysia.” PhD diss., University of Leicester, 2016. Oka Yoshiko. “Kinsei Shigaraki no tōgyō (Shigaraki’s ceramic industry in the early modern period).” In Kōga-shi shi (Kōga City history) 5, edited by Koga-shi shi hensan iinkai, 88–125. Koga-shi: Koga-shi, 2013. Oka Yoshiko. “The Jar with Design of Mynah Birds.” In Chigusa and the Art of Tea, edited by Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky, 171–3. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014. Ōmori Masashi. “The Science of Green Tea.” In Chigusa and the Art of Tea, edited by Louise Allison Cort and Andrew M. Watsky, 94–7. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, 2014. Pitelka, Morgan. Spectacular Accumulation: Material Culture, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and Samurai Sociability. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016. ­Preeyanuch, Jumprom. “The Phanom Surin Shipwreck: New Discovery of an Arab-style Shipwreck in Central Thailand.” Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum Newsletter 8, no. 1 (2014): 1–4. http://museum.bu.ac.th/Newsletter/SEACM_V8_no1.pdf. Qin Dashu, Chang Jung Jung, and Yu Shan. “Early Results of an Investigation into Ancient Kiln Sites Producing Ceramic Storage Jars and Some Related Issues.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 359–84. Stevenson, John, and John Guy, eds. Vietnamese Ceramics: A Separate Tradition. Chicago: Art Media Resources, 1997. Suzuki Yūko. “Kantō chihō [Kantō region].” Tōyō tōji gakkai kaihō [Newsletter of the Oriental Ceramic Society of Japan] 86 (2016): 3.

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Tep Sokha. “Discovery of Ceramics from the Koh Sdach Shipwreck, Koh Kong Province, Cambodia” (2014). http://www.themua.org/collections/items/show/1620, accessed July 3, 2019. Tran Ky Phuong. “Ceramic Jars as ‘Prestige Goods’ in Katu Culture: Considering the Upland-Lowland Product Exchange Network Throughout History in Quang Nam Province, Vietnam.” SPAFA Journal 3 (2019). http://www.spafajournal.org/index. php/spafajournal/issue/view/131. Treasures from the Hoi An Hoard: Important Vietnamese Ceramics from a Late 15th/ Early 16th Century Cargo. 2 vols. Los Angeles and San Francisco: Butterfields, 2000. Wisniewski, Béatrice. “Une approche de la tradition céramique vietnamienne du premier millénare apr. J. C. L’appropriation de techniques issue du monde chinois.” Aseanie 26 (2010): 159–80. Wisniewski, Béatrice. “La Tradition Céramique Vietnamiene du Premier Millénaire de Notre Ère. De l’apparition des fours à haut température à l’émergence d’une production organisée: étude archéologique.” 2 vols. PhD diss., École Pratique des Hautes Études, Paris, 2012. Wisniewski, Béatrice. “Les sites de production des jarres de stockage vietnamiennes pour le commerce maritime, du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle: état de la recherché.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 313–32. Wolf, Gerhard. “Image, Object, Art: Talking to a Chinese Jar on Two Human Feet.” Representations 133 (Winter 2016): 152–9. Wong, Sharon Wai-yee. “Rethinking Storage Jars Found in the 9th to 20th Centuries Archaeological Sites in Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 103 (2017): 333–58.

8­

Dragons in Flux: A Changing Relationship between People and Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Borneo, from the Nineteenth to the Twenty-First Century Borbala Nyiri

Introduction In a rural Kelabit village a family had two old jars in their possession which were originally kept in the spare room of the house. The father and the daughter had been suffering from visions and illness for a while, thought to be brought about by the jars, one of which was believed to be an ancient, powerful jar. When the family began experiencing spirit manifestations they requested the help of the local prayer group. The prayer group assembled at the rice barn where the jars had been placed on the upper storey beforehand, dismantled the floorboards and lowered the jars to the ground outside the hut. Members of the group began circling around the jars immersed in prayer. Then the Lord spoke through Sinah Balan Lupung—a wellrespected Kelabit lady in her sixties—who announced that there were 700 spirits residing in the two jars. Members of the group threw firewood and petrol on the vessels before setting them alight. When the fire was burning the hottest, the jars were smashed by members of the group with a piece of wood. At this moment, all the spirits came out of the jars and started looking for human hosts. First they entered the daughter, but the group prayed hard for her and she was delivered. Then the spirits entered the father, but he was delivered too. When the exorcism was complete the burnt jar-fragments were collected by the men and taken to the Christian cemetery where they were buried in sacred ground.1

This account serves as a starting point for my explorations on expressions of Kelabit religiosity, particularly with regard to the negotiations between the Kelabit people and objects of their animistic past in the context of the twenty-first

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century. By bringing this ambiguous relationship into focus, my aim is to offer some insight into the complex set of social, economic, and spiritual responses such interactions generate in the current post-conversion Kelabit milieu. The center of attention here are the so-called dragon jars; large, brown-glazed stoneware vessels, each decorated with a pair of dragons. Dragon jars represent a subgroup of utilitarian container vessels used widely across the Southeast Asian region for many centuries that used to be considered under the umbrella term of Martaban or Martavan vessels. This now-outdated label derives from the name of a major trading port on the west coast of Myanmar and was later adopted by authors of the first scholarly works on ceramics to describe all kinds of large jars—transhipped, purchased, or sold—at the port of Martaban, regardless of origin.2 The situation resulted in a fair amount of misunderstanding in the dating and provenancing of large ceramic containers (which are notoriously difficult to date and provenance at the best of times). Despite its problematic connotations, the term Martaban continued to appear in ceramicist literature until recently.3 Therefore, since this chapter is largely dealing with jars of Chinese origin, to avoid further confusion I refer to these vessels as dragon jars hereafter. Due to their crude appearance and ordinary functions, dragon jars have garnered limited attention outside Southeast Asia compared to other types of trade wares.4 In the field of ethnography, however, large container jars have gained a fair amount of traction and descriptions of such vessels appeared in early colonial writing in Southeast Asia and Borneo.5 These early accounts tended to highlight the unusual social, cultural, and economic roles jars played in local communities, emphasizing their assumed spiritual efficacy and supernatural qualities.6 The Kelabit, who represent one of the smallest ethnic groups among the indigenous peoples of Borneo,7 lived too far inland— occupying the central highland region of the island (Figure 8.1)—to be included in early colonial descriptions. However, Kelabit attitudes toward these objects chime with experiences of other native groups: as far as cultural memory stretches back, dragon jars have represented a particularly important segment of Kelabit material culture. Such vessels were employed to brew rice wine during major feasting events, served as primary and secondary burial containers for the bones of the dead, and stood as material signifiers of high social status and outstanding genealogy. Old heirloom jars with dragon designs were passed down through generations and held in high esteem, some were even believed to possess magical powers and exhibit human-like properties.8 Yet in the past 200 years, as the highland region of Sarawak underwent a series of political transformations—from precolonial, to colonial and then to postcolonial spheres

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­ igure 8.1  Map showing the location of the Kelabit highlands with principal F towns indicated. (1. Bario; 2. Miri; 3. Marudi; 4. Limbang; 5. Lawas; 6. Bandar Seri Begawan.) Illustration by L. Farr and L. Lloyd-Smith. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

of administration—indigenous lifestyles have also experienced considerable economic, social, and spiritual shifts. Until recently, the lifestyle of the Kelabit was dominated by rice agriculture, which continues to be a major constituent of Kelabit identity even today.9 The Kelabit traditionally lived in longhouses in a form of co-habitation that, when headhunting was widespread in the region, provided protection for an average of twenty or so extended families living under the same roof.10 Although the decades of the Brooke colonial administration (1842–1946)11 brought about a number of significant changes in the lives of people in the rural heartlands of

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Borneo,12 these changes were gradual compared to the impacts of World War II and the Confrontation (Konfrontasi) between Malaysia and Indonesia (1963–6) in the following years.13 Direct contact with British and Australian troops stationed in the highlands brought with them the trappings of a globalized world, edging the Kelabit toward a monetary economy and waged labor. Many young people began to seek opportunities for jobs or further education outside their Kelabit homeland, in the fast-growing coastal towns of Kuching and Miri, resulting in the establishment of sizable urban Kelabit communities there.14 Along with the fracturing of traditional social structures, another key change was the Kelabit conversion to Christianity. Partly due to government policy,15 the Kelabit had had little contact with Christian missionaries until the 1930s, and even then conversions remained limited in number and largely nominal until after the Confrontation. A radical turn came with the Bario Revival that swept across the highlands in the early 1970s,16 ushering in a new era of Kelabit religiosity. During the years of the Revival, dragon jars became uncomfortable reminders of the animistic past, generally associated with drunkenness, ostentatious displays of wealth, and personal vanity, which resulted in many being destroyed, sold, or given away. Jars with dragon motifs were looked upon particularly unfavorably as the design was re-interpreted in a Christian context and came to be considered as a demonic symbol. Forty years on, although the religious zeal has abated, the effects of this major spiritual event continue to resonate, discernible in the complex attitudes of the Kelabit toward the material culture of the olden days: while some people followed religious instructions and got rid of their jars a long time ago, others have remained sentimentally attached to their family heirlooms, and consider it important to pass them on to the next generation. The local Christian church (Sidang Injil Borneo/Borneo Evangelical Assembly—referred to locally as SIB) to which 95 percent of the Kelabit adheres today, continues to propagate firm views on objects of the past, and would like to see all jars permanently eliminated from Kelabit communities. In order to understand why jars generate such visceral responses among the Kelabit even today, one needs to take a closer look at soteriological stances communicated by the SIB that inform the daily worship and moral codes of the Kelabit in the twenty-first century. For this inquiry I will build upon the discourse generated by a relatively recent disciplinary subfield, the anthropology of Christianity,17 considering two of its key narratives: the models of continuity and discontinuity.18 Joel Robbins, in his trend-setting work, which I use as a starting point for my inquiry, bases his argument on the assertion that the study of anthropology, given its primary disciplinary

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focus on underlying cultural structures, inherently favors continuity over patterns of discontinuity.19 Therefore, he claims, when engaging with convert societies, most anthropologists tend to disregard their subjects’ Christian beliefs, even if this contradicts native experiences. To remedy the situation, Robbins offers a model of discontinuity, based on millenarian forms of Christian worship that draws a clear line between pre- and post-conversion existence by ritualizing the religious transformation or rupture. Before taking a closer look at the situation in the Kelabit highlands, with a sideways glance at urban Kelabit communities, the following provides a brief description of the jars’ ethno-historical setting during the past 200 years. Then the paper examines pre-Christian associations of jars and the Kelabit understandings of object efficacy in the context of Pentecostal-charismatic praxis today and discusses whether such modern responses can be understood within the model of continuity or rupture.

Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands: A Brief Ethno-historical Overview Dragon jars like many utilitarian stoneware vessels were produced with a simple, practical purpose in mind: to serve as durable packaging materials. Although the manufacture of large stoneware jars dates back to the ninth and tenth centuries CE,20 their production and variety increased markedly during the twelfth to fourteenth centuries CE, when jars were used as containers for goods transported along maritime trade routes.21 The precursors of the taller jar varieties embellished with pairs of dragons emerged during the final quarter of the Southern Song period in Fujian and Guangdong provinces, while the form that generally came to be known as a dragon jar became widespread from the seventeenth century onward.22 As jars became soughtafter items by indigenous communities across Southeast Asia, Chinese workshops responded by producing and reproducing a wide repertoire of styles throughout a long period of time (up until the twentieth century) making the dating of jar-types particularly difficult.23 However, archaeological24 and ethnographic25 evidence suggests that the consumption and veneration of dragon jars was not restricted to communities living in the coastal areas but was shared by groups far inland, such as the Kelabit inhabiting the remote highland regions of Borneo.

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Prior to the Kelabit conversion to Christianity, their universe, along with humans, was inhabited by a pantheon of deities, mythical heroes, and spiritbeings. This animistic cosmos was held together by the concept of lalud or lifeforce.26 Lalud was believed to manifest itself through the landscape and the natural environment and was thought to be manipulated by strong leaders and ritual practitioners. Kelabit daily life was tied to the agricultural cycle and regulated by an elaborate system of taboos based on the sighting of specific animals and the flight of birds.27 Kelabit spirituality had two major outlets that took the form of communal feasts: secondary burial rituals (borak ate) and initiation ceremonies (borak ngelua).28 Lengthy and elaborate secondary burials were exclusive privileges of the Kelabit aristocracy, who were buried either in an elaborately carved wooden coffin or a jar (Figure 8.2/Plate 21). The borak ngelua, or childinitiation ceremony, was not designed to memorialize a single individual, but was a truly communal affair: children of a certain age were formally accepted into the community while their parents and grandparents received their new names.29 Both events went on for several days and involved the consumption of large amounts of food and alcohol; rice wine was brewed in, and dispensed

Figure 8.2  Dragon jar burials at the now abandoned burial ground of Menatoh Rayeh Pa’ Bangar. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

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from, dragon jars. While secondary burial rituals ceased to be practiced after the conversion to Christianity, the borak ngelua, given its more inclusive profile, was reinstated in the form of a name-changing ceremony, which has become a key expression of Kelabit (Christian) identity in recent decades—now without the consumption of alcohol. In addition to their roles as mortuary and feasting paraphernalia, jars were also utilized as prominent signifiers of social status. The possession of exotic goods by local elites such as headhunting machetes, brass gongs, beads, and dragon jars was perceived as mutually constitutive of Kelabit leadership (and even a prerequisite to it); the items were passed down through many generations.30 Before colonial rule, luxury items, including jars, entered the highland region through various trade networks. It is highly likely that direct trade between the Kelabit highlands and coastal bazaars occurred very rarely or not at all until the late nineteenth century, largely due to persistent inter-tribal warfare.31 However, when direct trade did happen, it was the privilege of the Kelabit aristocracy who were able to conjure and financially support a large enough trading party, which in return promised economic and social advancement to its participants. Jars in particular also changed hands in more locally specific ways, namely through the channels of customary compensation and marriage.32 The situation changed dramatically with the new political and economic order established by the Brooke colonial government in the 1840s. The stamping out of tribal warfare, often by openly violent means, was considered a major achievement of the colonial administration. As reflected by a close study of jar mortuary data,33 political stability in the highland region prompted a wider section of the Kelabit society to become involved in the collection of jungle produce and to trade the items themselves, instead of relying on intermediaries. Locals were also encouraged by the government to generate revenue especially by the cultivation of cash crops (rice and tobacco). Goods were increasingly sold at administrative forts set up at key riverine locations rather than coastal bazaars. In this way, luxury goods including jars became more readily available for members of the lower classes through direct trade with coastal markets, facilitated by the establishment of potteries by Chinese immigrants keen to satisfy local demand. These new circumstances resulted in an influx of dragon jars in the Kelabit highlands, which continued to be utilized both as status signifiers and burial containers by members of the aristocracy and also consumed by people from lower social backgrounds (Figure 8.3/Plate 22).

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Figure 8.3  Kelabit man with his family heirloom jar. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

World-Breaking and World-Making: The Contestation of Traditional Material Culture within a Christian Framework For a while, it looked as if the Borneo Evangelical Mission (BEM—founded in Melbourne, Australia in 1928) would end up as one of the many failed proselytizing pursuits in Borneo.34 Members of the mission were well aware of the potential competition by long-established Christian denominations they could be facing in larger towns and therefore focused their efforts on indigenous communities in remote rural areas from 1928 until the Japanese Occupation (1941–5). Why the BEM managed to reap success where other missions stumbled is not known,

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neither are the incentives behind the natives’ inclination toward the process of Christian conversion. Perhaps timing was key; the border areas of Sarawak had been exposed to the influence of American missionary activities from Dutch Borneo, and most upland groups had encountered Christian teachings through interaction and self-evangelization by their kin in Kalimantan a few decades prior to the BEM’s presence in the region.35 Grassroots proselytizing came to play a crucial role during the years of the Japanese Occupation, when most Western missionaries were held captive. After World War II, the BEM was strongly committed to the establishment of a network of indigenous ministries, and in 1958 the mission was handed over to native Sarawakians, re-branding the organization as SIB, which continues to this day.36 From the 1970s the Pentecostal aspects of the SIB became more evident, being the likely effect of revivalist movements that spread across the Indonesian Archipelago in the mid-1960s.37 Pentecostalism is a charismatic Christian movement, which places special emphasis on personal experiences of the Holy Spirit (spirit baptism), the reception of spiritual gifts (speaking in tongues, divine healing, prophesying), and the belief in Christ’s imminent second coming. Today, the Pentecostal-charismatic movement is globally one of the fastest growing sectors of Christianity,38 particularly in the regions of Africa, Asia, and Oceania in the past fifty years.39 As an intellectual response to such an uptake worldwide, many anthropologists have called for thinking comparatively and theoretically about Christianity not only in relation to urban areas, but also in locations that have generally been regarded as field sites for traditional immersive anthropologies.40 There are numerous reasons why the anthropology of Christianity, as its own subfield, has only emerged in the past fifteen years or so despite ongoing Western missionary efforts since the beginnings of the colonial administration.41 Perhaps the most straightforward explanation lies with the self-definition of anthropology as a discipline that prioritizes longstanding cultural continuities over recent changes; a prominent thread that also runs through some anthropological works produced on the Kelabit as well.42 The problem with this approach is that in most cases it does not take recent Christian converts’ commitments seriously but treats their newly adopted religion as “merely a thin veneer laid over an enduring prior culture and as such not worthy of research.”43 Most scholars working in this field agree that there are three key doctrines of Pentecostal-charismatic Christianity that have contributed to its global success.44 On the one hand, Pentecostal-charismatic Christianity has been quick to propagate its own cultural logic while preserving the traditional views of its

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converts, glossed by Robbins as “world-breaking,” referring to the hermeneutic dualism embedded in the Pentecostal-charismatic doctrine that deems any pre-conversion custom not aligned with the Christian moral code a satanic influence.45 On the other hand, due to its grassroots organization, the movement remained susceptible and responsive to local concerns, referred to as “worldmaking” by Robbins, indicating that most Pentecostal-charismatic churches were constructed, staffed, and run by local converts from the start, people who are not required to have received a special education to be able to fulfill these roles.46 Furthermore Pentecostal-charismatic churches have also been able to provide viable strategies for communities facing the challenges of the modern world.47 In order to consider how these key aspects of the Pentecostalcharismatic movement are played out in the relationship between the Kelabit and their jars, I would like to return to the jar-exorcism story recounted in the introductory section. It is not too difficult to see the parallels between the manipulations of the lalud life-force by ritual practitioners and the reception of divine gifts by members of the prayer group, and conceptualize it in largely syncretistic terms, which was the tendency of Western anthropological works until recently.48 However, following Joel Robbins’s proposition,49 I would suggest that this assumption misses the point of how the Kelabit community experiences religious devotion on a day-to-day basis. Robbins argues that many conversionist religions demand the radical transformation of the lives of their converts, by creating a sharp distinction between their pre- and post-conversion existence. This experience of discontinuity brings with it its own post-conversion rituals intended to “preserve that which it breaks from.”50 These rituals are derived from the widely held belief in spiritual warfare that encourages converts to regard daily life as a relentless struggle between God and evil territorial spirits. Spiritual warfare promotes rituals of deliverance in order to purge devotees of demonic influences.51 In this way, the above description of a jar-exorcism appears in an entirely different light: the visions, the deliverance of the possessed, and destruction of evil spirits (and their containers) can be slotted into a set of actions designed to enhance religious rupture. The choreographies of such practices even recall secondary burial rituals of the past: when a member of the Kelabit upper class passed away, his/her body was placed in a primary burial container: either a wooden coffin or a jar. A jar used for this purpose was cut in half to accommodate the corpse before the top of the jar was placed back on and sealed. The primary burial container was then kept in a longhouse for at least a year while the body decomposed and the family made the necessary arrangements for the secondary burial feast. During the

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secondary burial ritual, the jar was opened, the bones cleaned and placed either in a new intact jar, or in the jar used for the primary burial. Following a complex set of rituals aiming to placate the spirit of the deceased and ease its transition into the other world, the secondary burial container was taken out of the house by removing the floorboards and was carried to and deposited in the cemetery by men deemed spiritually strong enough to venture into places associated with territorial spirits.52 Although the Kelabit moved away from jar burials a long time ago and observe simple Christian-style funerals today, aspects of past mortuary customs have been preserved and now shape their ongoing battle with the spirit world. Yet, such heightened expressions of devotion and the activities of prayer groups have become a widely contested topic even among the Kelabit themselves. Matthew Amster, who in his recent work examined landscape re-sacralization rituals in the Kelabit highlands (another form of spiritual warfare),53 found that: Some people, mainly those residing in town areas such as Miri and Kuching, find such behaviour disturbing [i.e., the practice of exorcisms]. They point out that it distracts from what they consider proper Christian religious practice and they note the resemblance of such behaviour to what they refer to as the “superstitious” beliefs of their pre-conversion past. To others, these hostile spirits are real, just as God and the Holy Spirit are real . . .54

These sentiments expressed over the appropriate forms of worship draw attention to two further aspects of current Kelabit religiosity: the ongoing struggle between the urban and rural factions of the SIB and the roles men and women play within the church organization. Since the Revival, expressive, emotionally heightened forms of worship have continued to be the norm in rural environments, whereas church sermons in urban settings propagate a quieter, subdued form of worship among the predominantly better-off, educated middle-class congregations (Figure 8.4/Plate 23). Despite a key doctrine of the Pentecostal-charismatic church that aims to eradicate all social boundaries,55 and to enable more and more people to hold positions within its organization regardless of their genders or social backgrounds, on the whole, men still predominantly serve as church officials (pastors or deacons) while women are routinely seen as recipients of spiritual gifts.56 It is therefore not surprising that some Kelabit women came to flourish in capacities such as recipients of visions or spirit mediums in rural villages, participating, and even spearheading, rituals that target territorial spirits such as the purge of ancient monuments associated with the Kelabit mythical past,57 the designation of Mount Murud as a prayer mountain,58 and the exorcism of jars. Although combating spiritual warfare is a

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Figure 8.4  SIB church service in Bario. Photo: Valerie Mashman. Copyright: Valerie Mashman.

practice often frowned upon by Kelabit urbanites, as the following section will explore, town residents themselves hold quite similar views toward vestiges of the pre-conversion past.

Dragons in Flux—Jars and Continuity Thinking Perhaps the most fascinating feature of jars in the Kelabit highlands is that they are still thought to possess human-like characteristics. During my fieldwork I was told of jars associated with a variety of behaviors, some benevolent and auspicious (for example, foretelling the future or bringing prosperity), others sinister or even malicious. The emission of deep humming noises, whispers, and howls, the eating of bundles of leaves, and instances of becoming heavy when lifted or passing “urine” were all thought to be signs of the jars’ discontent and their demands for attention. But were these behaviors enacted directly by the jars themselves or were they linked to spirits residing inside the vessels? In other words—a question which I had grappled with throughout the long months of fieldwork—do the Kelabit conceptualize jars in animistic or in fetishist terms? Some of my interviewees who spoke English referred to both the jar and the spirit of the jar as actants, while informants who only spoke Kelabit consistently used the term ada (spirit) to address the source of the jars’ efficacy. To make matters even more obscure, ethnographic works, which were largely written in

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retrospect, also use these terms interchangeably, referring to the jars themselves as being enspirited or animated59 or to the jars’ spirits as separate entities.60 These ponderings over where the animacy of jars can be located reverberate in the lengthy debates over animism and fetishism.61 What seems to emerge from the discourse is that, as Webb Keane puts it, there is an inherent ambiguity or slippage between the animistic or fetishist understanding of powerful objects that stems from the materiality of the objects themselves and the invisibility of transcendental beings associated with them.62 Despite the underlying ambiguity, however, the Kelabit attitudes that are manifested through the treatment of jars today can be understood in the context of a continuing belief in object-animacy expressed within a Christian religious framework. While I was recording jars that were still in the possession of Kelabit families during my fieldwork in 2013–14, I noticed that vessels were often damaged. Some of these injuries were due to the jars’ extensive use in the past, whereas others appeared to be intentional, mostly affecting the lip/rim area. One of these jars, according to its owner, used to whistle and howl at night, until one day she had had enough and whacked the vessel with a bamboo stick, which resulted in a chip to the jar’s lip and the end of the disturbance.63 While this account further underlines the perceived anthropomorphic characteristics of jars, it also draws attention to another detail: the Kelabit concept of efficacious materiality. As the anthropologist Monica Janowski argues, the unimpaired-ness of certain laludladen objects was believed to be a prerequisite for housing a spirit.64 Objects made of stone (either natural or artifactual) were regarded as particularly powerful, and this could be understood as a component of jars’ efficacy given that the hard-fired clay material of stoneware vessels was indeed perceived as stone by the Kelabit in the past. Although damaged objects were still considered to be powerful, with the individuated spirit extinguished or chased away their potency was largely gone. This concept of a mutually constitutive relationship between jars’ materiality, potency, and their contents appears to have been retained in today’s Christian frames of reference. As part of rituals of rupture, people in the Kelabit highlands sometimes go so far as to destroy their old family heirlooms in order to purge and prevent the return of evil spirits that could harm other members of the community. With similar intentions, a more restrained form of destruction, the chipping of jars, seems to be carried out routinely both in rural and urban settings, even by urbanites who otherwise disapprove of expressive forms of religious devotion. I recorded several cases where heirloom jars were chipped in this way by prayer groups—upon family invitation—before being

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installed in urban homes. Although the SIB church as a whole objects to the possession of jars, it respects people’s decisions; in fact, deliverances, exorcisms, and other religious purges, apart from a few exceptions, take place upon request. Yet, heirloom jars that were banished into the dark corners of storage compartments during the years of the Spiritual Revival are now making their way back into the displays of family-run homestays and being reinstated in private homes. This trend appears to have been proceeding hand-in-hand with the disparity between developments in rural and urban areas in the past two decades, especially in remote areas where people’s livelihoods are in many respects increasingly dependent on resources located outside the highlands. As the Kelabit rely more on tourism to earn a living, communities have been forced to re-think their relationships with their traditional material culture. Today, some owners of rural homestays with upper class ancestry choose to openly exhibit their family heirlooms as mementos of the Kelabit past (Figure 8.5/Plate 24), while others—despite the scornful reaction of many—have ventured as far as to utilize them as props during wedding celebrations. These contestations bring to the fore another facet of the scholarly debate on Christian conversion referred to as continuity thinking.65 Continuity thinking interrogates and problematizes the ways local concepts, traditions, and artifacts are incorporated into Christian religious protocols.66 As Liana Chua demonstrated in a study of a multi-denominational Bidayuh community in Sarawak, continuity thinking is more prevalent among Catholic and Anglican congregations whose religious frameworks actively maintain and cultivate links with the pagan past both in spiritual and in performative ways.67 These recent redefining efforts have converged with proclaimed endeavors of the Malaysian government whose fostering of cultural diversity and the promotion of tourism have begun to isolate and popularize aspects of local ethnic groups as “culture.”68 In the case of the Kelabit, although similar negotiations are ongoing over the valorization of the animistic past in relation to a modern ethnic identity, given the SIB’s rupturebased doctrine, continuity thinking among the Kelabit is expressed through the persistent belief in the spirit world. The existence of evil spirits is still a widely held belief among the Kelabit regardless of whether they reside in a rural village or a town, although the conviction is undoubtedly stronger in the highlands where certain landscape features and substances are still associated with malicious forces.69 In this regard, dragon jars provide a convenient and distinct material location for the effects of exorcisms and the destruction of malignant entities which—given the elusive nature of spirits—cannot be located otherwise.

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Figure 8.5  Kelabit lady displaying her family heirlooms at her homestay. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

Concluding Remarks Jars traveled a long way both in time and space before reaching the Kelabit highlands; even the ones made on the cusp of the twentieth century have followed a tradition of jar-production established in China almost a millennium before. The Kelabit are not unique in their attraction to these large stoneware vessels, the majority of Bornean ethnic groups can boast a long tradition of jar-culture going back hundreds of years. As hotel brochures and exhibition pamphlets like to point out, the veneration of jars and their associations with the supernatural are also notions shared widely across local communities regardless of their religions. However, upon closer inspection, the idea of a homogenous jarculture begins to disintegrate, particularly in relation to individual ethnic groups and their attitudes toward their traditional material culture in the past and in the present day. As the chapter’s case study has shown, in the past the Kelabit were indeed similar to neighboring groups in their patterns of acquisition and consumption of jars, enabling inter-tribal trade in these objects to take place. Yet, despite such parallels the present use of jars by the Kelabit, both in rural and

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urban settings, appears to be ethnically specific and largely dependent on the Kelabit association with the local Pentecostal-charismatic denomination and its heavily rupture-oriented narratives. Even if at first glance partial or complete jarexorcisms resemble the practice of iconoclasm and its negative connotations, in the context of Kelabit religiosity these events serve as important avenues for both rural and urban Kelabit to participate in the global efforts of spiritual warfare propagated worldwide by the Pentecostal-charismatic movement. Although rupture-oriented narratives continue to dominate among Kelabit congregations, such attitudes could not be conceptualized and sustained without some level of continuity thinking. While continuity thinking is perhaps easier to recognize in communities whose Christian denominations are more permissive when it comes to the preservation or even the performance of elements of their animistic pasts, similar negotiations among the Kelabit are also taking place, albeit in slightly different ways. On the one hand, many Kelabit now choose to challenge current religious views and display jars openly as part of a reconfigured Kelabit cultural identity incentivized by the Malaysian government. On the other, as Joel Robbins points out, rupture-oriented narratives tend to preserve certain aspects of previous spiritual frameworks—in this particular case, the sustained belief in harmful spirits and their subsequent destruction—in order to distance themselves from it, which I would argue is how present-day jar-exorcisms and religious purges are being understood by the majority of Kelabit worshippers.

Notes 1

2

This brief story was related to me during an interview session while conducting fieldwork in the Kelabit highlands in 2013. The events took place a year before in the rural settlement of Bario with the participation of about twenty members of the local prayer group. The term first appears in the writings of the Arabic traveller, Ibn Battuta (1304–68/9) and by the sixteenth to seventeenth century was widely circulating among European (mainly Dutch and Portuguese) and Ottoman merchant sources. For a detailed discussion on the subject, see Sumarah Adhyatman and Abu Ridho, Tempayan di Indonesia. Martavans in Indonesia, 2nd ed. (Jakarta: The Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1984); Brigitte Borell, “A True Martaban Jar. A Burmese Ceramic Jar in the Ethnological Museum in Heidelberg (Germany),” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 2 (2014): 257–98; Marie-France Dupoizat, “L’artisanat de la ceramique en Malaysia orientale,” Archipel 26 (1983): 127–42; Pamela Gutman,

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5

6

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Transformative Jars “The Martaban Trade: An Examination of the Literature from the Seventh Century until the Eighteenth Century,” Asian Perspectives 40, no. 1 (2001): 108–18; Barbara Harrisson, Pusaka. Heirloom Jars of Borneo, paperback ed. (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1990 [1986]). See Jessica Harrisson-Hall, Ming Ceramics—A Catalogue of the Late Yuan and Ming Ceramics in the British Museum (London: The British Museum Press, 2001); Boedi Mranata and Handojo Susanto, Ancient Martavans: A Great Forgotten Heritage (Jakarta: Himpunan Keramik Indonesia [Indonesian Ceramic Society] 2012); Shelagh Vainker, Chinese Pottery and Porcelain, 2nd ed. (London: The British Museum Press, [1991] 2005). Although there have been exceptions such as the works by Nanne Ottema, Chinese Ceramiek. Handboek geschreven naar aanleiding van de verzamelingen in het Gemeentelijke Museum het Princessehof te Leeuwarden (Leeuwarden: Princessehof Museum, 1943), more notably by Barbara Harrisson, Pusaka. Heirloom Jars of Borneo, or Swatow, 1st ed. (Leeuwarden: Gemeentelijk Museum Het Princessehof, 1979) and more recently by Eva Ströber, Ming. Porcelain for a Globalised Trade (Stuttgart: Arnoldsche Art Publishers, 2013). Marie-France Dupoizat, “À propos de la classification de Paul Guilleminet: jarres à Bornéo et sur les Hauts-Plateaux indochinois,” Archipel 60, no. 4 (2000): 199–216; Franz S. Grabowski, “Über die Djawet’s oder heiligen Töpfe der Oloh Ngadju (Dayaken) von Süd-ost Borneo,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie XVII (1885): 121–9; Frederik Müller, Werken van het Koninklijk Instituut vor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indie, 2nd ed. (Alfzonderlijke Werken: Amsterdam, 1857); Michel T. H. Perelaer, Ethnographische Beschrijving der Dajaks (Zaltbommer: J. Norman, 1870); Carl A. L. M. Schwaner, Borneo Beschrijving van het Stroomgebied van der Barito (Amsterdam: P. N. van Kampen, 1853). For example: Carl Bock, The Head-Hunters of Borneo: A Narrative of Travel up the Mahakam and down the Barito; also, Journeyings in Sumatra (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle, & Rivington, 1984 [1881]); Harrisson, Pusaka. Heirloom Jars of Borneo; Henry Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, Vols. I–II. 2nd ed. (Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 1980 [1896]); Carl Lumholtz, Through Central Borneo. An Account of Two Years’ Travel in the Land of the Head Hunters between the Years 1913 and 1917 (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1991 [1920]). Poline Bala, Changing Borders and Identities in the Kelabit Highlands. Anthropological Reflections on Growing Up in a Kelabit Village Near the International Border. Dayak Studies Contemporary Society Series, No. 1, The Institute of East Asian Studies (Sarawak, Malaysia: Unimas, 2002); Charles Hose and William McDougall, The Pagan Tribes of Borneo, Vols. 1–2 (London: Frank Cass & Co. Ltd. 1966 [1912]).

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8 In Borneo, the dragon was generally associated with the underworld and the female principle and considered as a source of fertility. Since many indigenous groups had a dragon-like mythical creature in their spiritual pantheons, it is perhaps not too difficult see why jars (decorated with Chinese-style dragons) appealed to local populations. In this regard the Kelabit were no exception: in Kelabit mythology the crocodile (bayeh) was a powerful guardian spirit, while the water-serpent (menagag) was linked to the underworld—Monica Janowski, “The Dynamics of the Cosmic Conversation: Beliefs about the Spirits Among the Kelabit and Penan of the Upper Baram River, Sarawak,” in Animism in Southeast Asia, eds. Kaj Århem and Guido Sprenger (London: Routledge Contemporary Southeast Asia Series, 2015), 181–204. For further reading on dragons in Borneo, see Raymond Corbey, Of Jars and Gongs. Two Keys to Ot Danum Dayak Cosmology (Leiden: C. Zwartenkot Art Books, 2016); Rolf B. Roth, Die “heiligen Töpfe” der Ngaju-Dayak: eine Untersuchung über die Rezeption von Importkeramik bei einer altindonesischen Ethnie (Bonn: Holos, 1992). 9 Monica Janowski, “The Hearth-group, the Conjugal Couple and the Symbolism of the Rice Meal among the Kelabit of Sarawak,” in About the House: Lévi-Strauss and Beyond, eds. Janet Carsten and Stephen Hugh-Jones (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 84–104; Monica Janowski, The Forest, Source of Life: The Kelabit of Sarawak (London: British Museum, 2003). 10 Bala, Changing Borders and Identities in the Kelabit Highlands; Janowski, The Forest, Source of Life. 11 The installation of James Brooke as the Rajah of Sarawak in 1842 marked the beginning of the rule of the so-called “White Rajahs” (James Brooke: 1842–68, Charles Brooke: 1868–1917, Vyner Brooke: 1917–46), an independent monarchy that lasted three generations before becoming a true British colony after World War II. For more details, see for example: Richard Pringle, Rajahs and Rebels: The Ibans of Sarawak under Brooke Rule, 1841–1941 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1970); Steven Runciman, The White Rajahs: A History of Sarawak from 1841 to 1946 Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960; John H. Walker, Power and Prowess: The Origins of Brooke Kingship in Sarawak (ASAA Southeast Asia Publication Series, Honolulu: Allen & Unwin and University of Hawai‘i Press, 2002). 12 Despite their questionable methods, one of the most important deeds of the Brooke government was to put a stop to inter-tribal violence, which, for people living far inland, provided a safer environment to participate in long-distance trade. For details, see Borbala Nyiri, “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space: Martabani Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, East Malaysia” (PhD diss., University of Leicester, 2016), Chapter 7. 13 Tom Harrisson, The World Within. A Borneo Story (London: The Cresset Press, 1959), see also Judith M. Heimann, The Airmen and the Headhunters: A True

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18 19

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Transformative Jars Story of Lost Soldiers, Heroic Tribesmen and the Unlikeliest Rescue of World War II (Orlando: A Harvest Book, Harcourt, Inc. 2007). Matthew H. Amster, “Community, Ethnicity and Modes of Association among the Kelabit of Sarawak, East Malaysia” (PhD diss., Brandeis University, 1998). The attitude of the Brooke administration to the preservation of indigenous belief systems made it difficult for Christian missionaries to establish themselves in Sarawak. In order to exercise full control over religious interference, the Rajahs only permitted missions of Christian denominations spaced in time: the first Anglican mission was authorized in 1848, followed by Roman Catholics in 1881, and American Methodists in 1903. Regulations became more relaxed leading up to the years of World War II. For a detailed history of leading Christian missions, see Peter Kedit, Aeries S. Jingan, D. Tsen, T. Chung, Heidi Munan, and Y. John, 150 Years of the Anglican Church in Borneo 1848–1998 (Kuching: Bishop of Kuching 1998); John Rooney, Khabar Gembira: A History of the Catholic Church in East Malaysia and Brunei (1880–1976) (London: and Kota Kinabalu: Burns and Oates Ltd. and Mill Hill Missionaries, 1981); and Graham Saunders, Bishops and Brookes: The Anglican Mission and the Brooke Raj in Sarawak 1848–1941 (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1992). The Bario Revival erupted when a group of secondary school students experienced the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in October 1973. Soon the whole village became involved: prophesying, speaking in tongues, miracle healing, and deliverances from demonic powers became common in the following months and years until around 1975, when the initial waves of the Revival quietened down. For further details, see Solomon Bulan and Lillian Bulan-Dorai, The Bario Revival (Kuala Lumpur: Home Matters Network, 2004) and Shirley Lees, Drunk Before Dawn (Belmont, Kent: Overseas Missionary Fellowship, 1979), 185–98. For a detailed summary, see Joel Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity: Unity, Diversity, New Directions,” An Introduction to Supplement 10, Current Anthropology 55 (2014): 157–71. See, Liana Chua, “Conversion, Continuity, and Moral Dilemmas among Christian Bidayuhs in Malaysian Borneo,” American Ethnologist 39, no. 3 (2012): 511–26. Joel Robbins, “Continuity Thinking and the Problem of Christian Culture: Belief, Time and the Anthropology of Christianity,” Current Anthropology 48, no. 1 (2007): 5–38. Regina Krahl, John Guy, Keith J. Wilson, and Julian Raby, eds. Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds (Washington, DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2010). Jean-Paul Desroches, Gabriel Casal, and Franck Goddio, eds. Treasures of the San Diego (New York: AFAA, 1997); Krahl, Guy, Wilson, and Raby, Shipwrecked. Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds; Janice Stargardt, “Indian Ocean Trade in the Ninth

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and Tenth Centuries: Demand, Distance, and Profit,” South Asian Studies 30, no. 1 (2014): 35–55. 22 Harrisson, Pusaka. Heirloom Jars of Borneo; Kerry Nguyen Long, “History Behind the Jar,” in A Thousand Years of Stoneware Jars in the Philippines, eds. Cynthia O. Valdes, Kerry Nguyen Long, and Artemio B. Barbosa (Jar Collectors [Philippines] with the support of Eugenio Lopez Foundation Inc. and in cooperation with the National Museum and the Oriental Ceramic Society of the Philippines, 1992), 25–69. 23 Harrisson, Pusaka. Heirloom Jars of Borneo, 21–2; Nguyen Long, “History Behind the Jar,” 25–33. 24 Graeme Barker, Huw Barton, Dan Britton, Ipoi Datan, Ben Davenport, Monica Janowski, Samantha Jones, Jayl Langub, Lindsay Lloyd-Smith, Borbala Nyiri, and Beth Upex, “The Cultured Rainforest Project: The First (2007) Field Season,” Sarawak Museum Journal 65, no. 86 (2008): 121–90; Wilhelmina Cluny and Paul Chai, Cultural Sites of the Northern Highlands. Megaliths and Burial Sites (Sarawak: International Tropical Timber Organisation and Forest Department, 2007). 25 Tom Harrisson, “Ceramics Penetrating Central Borneo,” Sarawak Museum Journal 6, no. 6 (1955): 549–60; Tom Harrisson, The World Within. A Borneo Story (London: The Cresset Press, 1959); Tom Harrisson, “Borneo Death,” Bijdragen Tot De Taal-, Land- en Volkerkunde 118, no. 1 (1962): 1–41. 26 Monica Janowski, “Imagining the Forces of Life and the Cosmos in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak,” in Imagining Landscapes (Anthropological Studies of Creativity and Perception), eds. Tim Ingold and Monica Janowski (London: Ashgate, 2012), 143–63. 27 Tom Harrisson, “Birds and Men in Borneo,” in Birds of Borneo, ed. Bertram E. Smythies (London: Oliver and Boyd, 1960), 20–62; Robert Lian-Saging, “An Ethnohistory of the Kelabit tribe of Sarawak. A Brief Look at the Kelabit Tribe before World War II and After” (Unpublished BA diss., University of Malaya, 1976–7), 238–9. 28 Lian-Saging, “An Ethno-history of the Kelabit Tribe of Sarawak”; Yahya Talla, “The Kelabit of the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak” (Unpublished BA diss., Universiti Sains Malaysia, 1979). 29 Janowski, The Forest, Source of Life. ­30 Lian-Saging, “An Ethno-history of the Kelabit Tribe of Sarawak”; Talla, “The Kelabit of the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak.” 31 Bala, Changing Borders and Identities in the Kelabit Highlands; Tom Harrisson, “Outside Influence on the Upland Culture of Kelabits of North Central Borneo,” Sarawak Museum Journal 6, no. 4 (1954): 104–20.

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32 Bala, Changing Borders and Identities in the Kelabit Highlands; Janowski, The Forest, Source of Life; Lian-Saging, “An Ethno-history of the Kelabit Tribe of Sarawak”; Talla, “The Kelabit of the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak.” 33 Nyiri, “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space.” 34 Ian J. Ewart, “The Documented History of the Kelabits of Northern Sarawak,” Sarawak Museum Journal 66, no. 87 (2009): 229–57; Hudson C. Southwell, Uncharted Waters (Calgary: Astana Publishing, [1973] 1999). 35 Barbara Watson Andaya, “Contextualizing the Global: Exploring the Roots of Pentecostalism in Malaysia and Indonesia.” Paper presented to a symposium on Management and Marketing of Globalizing Asian Religions, in Osaka, Japan, August 11–14, 2009. 36 Ewart, “The Documented History of the Kelabits of Northern Sarawak”; Lees, Drunk Before Dawn. 37 Edwin J. Orr, Evangelical Awakenings in the South Seas (Minneapolis: Bethany Fellowship, 1976); Colin C. Whitaker, Great Revivals (Springfield: Gospel Publishing House, 1984); Gani Wiyono, “Timor Revival: A Historical Study of the Great Twentieth-Century Revival in Indonesia,” Asian Journal of Pentecostal Studies 4, no. 2 (2001): 269–93. 38 José Casanova, “Religion, the New Millennium, and Globalization,” Sociology of Religion 62 (2001): 415–41; Bronwen Douglas, “From Invisible Christians to Gothic Theatre: The Romance of the Millennial in Melanesian Anthropology,” Current Anthropology 42 (2001): 615–50; Barbara Watson Andaya, “Contextualizing the Global.” 39 John Barker (ed.), Christianity in Oceania: Ethnographic Perspectives (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1990); Jon Bialecki, Naomi Haynes, and Joel Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity,” Religion Compass 2, no. 6 (2008): 1139–58; Joel Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” Annual Review of Anthropology 33 (2004): 117–43. 40 Douglas, “From Invisible Christians to Gothic Theatre.” 41 Bialecki, Haynes, and Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity”; Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity: Unity, Diversity, New Directions.” 42 For example, Janowski, The Forest, Source of Life. 43 Bialecki, Haynes, and Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity,” 1141; Joel Robbins, “Continuity Thinking and the Problem of Christian Culture,” Current Anthropology 48, no. 1 (2007): 5–38. ­44 Bialecki, Haynes, and Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity,” 1141; José Casanova, Public Religions in the Modern World (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1994). 45 Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” 127–30. 46 Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” 130–1.

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47 Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” 119. 48 For example, Janowski, “The Dynamics of the Cosmic Conversation,” cf. Bialecki, Haynes, and Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity,” 1144. 49 Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” 127–31. 50 Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” 127. 51 Jean DeBernardi, “Spiritual Warfare and Territorial Spirits: The Globalization and Localization of a ‘Practical Theology’,” Religious Studies and Theology 18, no. 2 (1999): 66–96; Dan Jorgensen, “Third Wave Evangelism and the Politics of the Global in Papua New Guinea: Spiritual Warfare and the Recreation of Place in Telefolmin,” Oceania 75 (2005): 444–60. 52 Peter Metcalf, A Borneo Journey into Death. Berawan Eschatology from Its Rituals (Kuala Lumpur: S. Abdul Majeed & Co., 1991); Lian-Saging, “An Ethno-history of the Kelabit Tribe of Sarawak”; Talla, “The Kelabit of the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak.” 53 Matthew H. Amster, “New Sacred Lands: The Making of a Christian Prayer Mountain in Highland Borneo,” in Sacred Places and Modern Landscapes: Sacred Geography and Modern Religious Transformations in South and Southeast Asia, ed. Ronald A. Lukens-Bull (Monograph Press: Program for Southeast Asian Studies, Arizona State University, 2003), 131–60. 54 Amster, “New Sacred Lands: The Making of a Christian Prayer Mountain in Highland Borneo,” 149. 55 Bernice Martin, “The Pentecostal Gender Paradox: A Cautionary Tale for the Sociology of Religion,” in The Blackwell Companion to Sociology of Religion, ed. Richard K. Fenn (Oxford: Blackwell, 2001), 52–66; Joel Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity”; Joel Robbins, “Continuity Thinking and the Problem of Christian Culture.” 56 Matthew H. Amster, “Animism and Anxiety. Religious Conversion among the Kelabit of Sarawak,” in Animism in Southeast Asia, eds. Kaj Århem and Guido Sprenger (London: Routledge Contemporary Southeast Asia Series, 2015), 205–18; cf. Andrew R. Chestnut, Born Again in Brazil: The Pentecostal Boom and the Pathogens of Poverty (New Brunswick: Rutgers, 1997); Andrew R. Chestnut, Competitive Spirits: Latin America’s New Religious Economy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 57 Deliverance rituals targeting two memorial mounds or perupun (considered to be burials of rich individuals who died without heirs) were carried out shortly before I began my doctoral fieldwork in the highlands in 2013–14. It was a joint mission involving a number of smaller prayer groups, whose members prayed extensively before “bombing” the mounds with salt and oil to chase out the spirits, in a similar manner to that described by Matthew Amster in “New Sacred Lands: The Making

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of a Christian Prayer Mountain in Highland Borneo,” 148. The information was related to me by Lucy Bulan (Sinah Raben Bala/Mudut Aran), a well-respected, devout member of the Bario community church congregation. 58 Amster, “New Sacred Lands: The Making of a Christian Prayer Mountain in Highland Borneo.” 59 Janowski, “Imagining the Forces of Life and the Cosmos in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak”; Janowski, “The Dynamics of the Cosmic Conversation”. 60 Talla, “The Kelabit of the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak.” 61 For the broader debate on the subject, see: Sasha Nevell, “The Matter of the Unfetish: Hoarding and the Spirit of Possessions,” HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 4, no. 3 (2014): 185–213; Peter Pels, “The Spirit of Matter: On Fetish, Rarity, Fact, and Fancy,” in Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces, ed. Patricia Spyer (New York and London: Routledge, 1998), 91–121; William Pietz, “The Problem of the Fetish, I,” Anthropology and Aesthetics 9, no. 1 (1985): 5–17; Callan Schultz, “The Christian Fetish: Modernity, Whiteness and the Christian Imaginary in Malaysia,” Ethnos, published online: June 3, 2019. https://doi.org/10.1080/00141844.2019.1626467; Patricia Spyer, “Introduction,” in Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces, ed. Patricia Spyer (New York, London: Routledge, 1998), 1–11. 62 Webb Keane, “Calvin in the Tropics: Objects and Subjects at the Religious Frontier,” in Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces, ed. Patricia Spyer (New York, London: Routledge, 1998), 13–34. 63 The jar’s owner, Sinah Ben (Sinah Ribu Bala) from the village of Pa’ Dalih told me about this event in 2008, while I was recording her jar in question. 64 Janowski, “The Dynamics of the Cosmic Conversation,” 196–7. 65 Liana Chua, The Christianity of Culture Conversion. Ethnic Citizenship, and the Matter of Religion in Malaysian Borneo (New York: Palgrave and Macmillan, 2012); Chua, “Conversion, Continuity, and Moral Dilemmas among Christian Bidayuhs in Malaysian Borneo”; cf. Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,” 126–7. 66 Liana Chua, “The Problem with ‘Empty Crosses’,” in The Spirit of Things: Materiality and Religious Diversity in Southeast Asia, ed. Julius Bautista. Cornell Southeast Asia Program Publications (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2012), 111–27; Chua, “Conversion, Continuity, and Moral Dilemmas among Christian Bidayuhs in Malaysian Borneo,” 520. 67 Chua, The Christianity of Culture. ­68 Chua, “Conversion, Continuity, and Moral Dilemmas among Christian Bidayuhs in Malaysian Borneo,” 520. 69 Janowski, “The Dynamics of the Cosmic Conversation,” 196–7.

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Bibliography Adhyatman, Sumarah, and Abu Ridho. Tempayan di Indonesia. Martavans in Indonesia. Second edition. Jakarta: The Ceramic Society of Indonesia, 1984. Amster, Matthew H. “Community, Ethnicity and Modes of Association among the Kelabit of Sarawak, East Malaysia.” PhD diss., Brandeis University, 1998. Amster, Matthew H. “New Sacred Lands: The Making of a Christian Prayer Mountain in Highland Borneo.” In Sacred Places and Modern Landscapes: Sacred Geography and Modern Religious Transformations in South and Southeast Asia, edited by Ronald A. Lukens-Bull, 131–60. Monograph Press: Program for Southeast Asian Studies, Arizona State University, 2003. Amster, Matthew H. “Animism and Anxiety. Religious Conversion among the Kelabit of Sarawak.” In Animism in Southeast Asia, edited by Kaj Århem and Guido Sprenger, 205–18. London: Routledge Contemporary Southeast Asia Series, 2015. Bala, Poline. Changing Borders and Identities in the Kelabit Highlands. Anthropological Reflections on Growing Up in a Kelabit Village Near the International Border. Dayak Studies Contemporary Society Series, No. 1. The Institute of East Asian Studies, Sarawak, Malaysia: Unimas, 2002. Barker, Graeme, Huw Barton, Dan Britton, Ipoi Datan, Ben Davenport, Monica Janowski, Samantha Jones, Jayl Langub, Lindsay Lloyd-Smith, Borbala Nyiri, and Beth Upex. “The Cultured Rainforest Project: The First (2007) Field Season.” Sarawak Museum Journal 65, no. 86 (2008): 121–90. Barker, John. Christianity in Oceania: Ethnographic Perspectives. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1990. Bialecki, Jon, Naomi Haynes, and Joel Robbins. “The Anthropology of Christianity.” Religion Compass 2, no. 6 (2008): 1139–58. Bock, Carl. The Head-Hunters of Borneo: A Narrative of Travel up the Mahakam and down the Barito; also, Journeyings in Sumatra. London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle, & Rivington, 1984 (1881). Borell, Brigitte. “A True Martaban Jar. A Burmese Ceramic Jar in the Ethnological Museum in Heidelberg (Germany).” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 2 (2014): 257–98. Bulan, Solomon and Lillian Bulan-Dorai. The Bario Revival. Kuala Lumpur: Home Matters Network, 2004. Casanova, José. Public Religions in the Modern World. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1994. ­Casanova, José. “Religion, the New Millennium, and Globalization.” Sociology of Religion 62 (2001): 415–41. Chestnut, Andrew R. Born Again in Brazil: The Pentecostal Boom and the Pathogens of Poverty. New Brunswick: Rutgers, 1997. Chestnut, Andrew R. Competitive Spirits: Latin America’s New Religious Economy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.

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Chua, Liana. The Christianity of Culture. Conversion, Ethnic Citizenship, and the Matter of Religion in Malaysian Borneo. New York: Palgrave and Macmillan, 2012. Chua, Liana. “Conversion, Continuity, and Moral Dilemmas among Christian Bidayuhs in Malaysian Borneo.” American Ethnologist 39, no. 3 (2012): 511–26. Chua, Liana. “The Problem with ‘Empty Crosses’.” In The Spirit of Things: Materiality and Religious Diversity in Southeast Asia edited by Julius Bautista, 111–27. Cornell Southeast Asia Program Publications. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2012. Cluny, Wilhelmina and Paul Chai. Cultural Sites of the Northern Highlands. Megaliths and Burial Sites. International Tropical Timber Organisation and Forest Department, Sarawak, 2007. Corbey, Raymond. Of Jars and Gongs. Two Keys to Ot Danum Dayak Cosmology. Leiden: C. Zwartenkot Art Books, 2016. DeBernardi, Jean. “Spiritual Warfare and Territorial Spirits: The Globalization and Localization of a ‘Practical Theology’.” Religious Studies and Theology 18, no. 2 (1999): 66–96. Desroches, Jean-Paul, Gabriel Casal and Franck Goddio, eds. Treasures of the San Diego. New York: AFAA, 1997. Douglas, Bronwen. “From Invisible Christians to Gothic Theatre: The Romance of the Millennial in Melanesian Anthropology.” Current Anthropology 42 (2001): 615–50. Dupoizat, Marie-France. “L’artisanat de la ceramique en Malaysia orientale.” Archipel 26 (1983): 127–42. Dupoizat, Marie-France. “À propos de la classification de Paul Guilleminet: jarres à Bornéo et sur les Hauts-Plateaux indochinois.” Archipel 60, no. 4 (2000): 199–216. Ewart, Ian J. “The Documented History of the Kelabits of Northern Sarawak.” Sarawak Museum Journal 66, no. 87 (2009): 229–57. Grabowski, Franz. S. “Über die Djawet’s oder heiligen Töpfe der Oloh Ngadju (Dayaken) von Süd-ost Borneo.” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie XVII (1885): 121–9. Gutman, Pamela. “The Martaban Trade: An Examination of the Literature from the Seventh Century until the Eighteenth Century.” Asian Perspectives 40, no. 1 (2001): 108–18. Harrison-Hall, Jessica. Ming Ceramics—A Catalogue of the Late Yuan and Ming Ceramics in the British Museum. London: The British Museum Press, 2001. Harrisson, Barbara. Swatow. First edition. Leeuwarden: Gemeentelijk Museum Het Princessehof, 1979. ­Harrisson, Barbara. Pusaka. Heirloom Jars of Borneo, paperback edition. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1990 [1986]. Harrisson, Tom. “Outside Influence on the Upland Culture of Kelabits of North Central Borneo.” Sarawak Museum Journal 6, no. 4 (1954): 104–20. Harrisson, Tom. “Ceramics Penetrating Central Borneo.” Sarawak Museum Journal 6, no. 6 (1955): 549–60. Harrisson, Tom. The World Within. A Borneo Story. London: The Cresset Press, 1959.

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Harrisson, Tom. “Birds and Men in Borneo.” In Birds of Borneo, edited by Bertram E. Smythies, 20–62. London: Oliver and Boyd, 1960. Harrisson, Tom. “Borneo Death.” Bijdragen Tot De Taal-, Land- en Volkerkunde 118, no. 1 (1962): 1–41. Heimann, Judith M. The Airmen and the Headhunters: A True Story of Lost Soldiers, Heroic Tribesmen and the Unlikeliest Rescue of World War II. Orlando: A Harvest Book, Harcourt, Inc. 2007. Hose, Charles and William McDougall. The Pagan Tribes of Borneo. Vols. 1–2. London: Frank Cass & Co. Ltd., 1966 (1912). Janowski, Monica. “The Hearth-group, The Conjugal Couple and the Symbolism of the Rice Meal among the Kelabit of Sarawak.” In About the House: Lévi-Strauss and beyond, edited by Janet Carsten and Stephen Hugh-Jones, 84–104. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Janowski, Monica. The Forest, Source of Life: The Kelabit of Sarawak. London: British Museum, 2003. Janowski, Monica. “Imagining the Forces of Life and the Cosmos in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak.” In Imagining Landscapes (Anthropological Studies of Creativity and Perception), edited by Tim Ingold and Monica Janowski, 143–63. London: Ashgate, 2012. Janowski, Monica. “The Dynamics of the Cosmic Conversation: Beliefs about the Spirits Among the Kelabit and Penan of the Upper Baram River, Sarawak.” In Animism in Southeast Asia, edited by Kaj Århem and Guido Sprenger, 181–204. London: Routledge Contemporary Southeast Asia Series, 2015. Jorgensen, Dan. “Third Wave Evangelism and the Politics of the Global in Papua New Guinea: Spiritual Warfare and the Recreation of Place in Telefolmin.” Oceania 75, (2005): 444–60. Keane, Webb. “Calvin in the Tropics: Objects and Subjects at the Religious Frontier.” In Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces, edited by Patricia Spyer, 13–34. New York, London: Routledge, 1998. Kedit, Peter, Aeries S. Jingan, D. Tsen, T. Chung, Heidi Munan, and Y. John. 150 Years of the Anglican Church in Borneo 1848–1998. Kuching: Bishop of Kuching, 1998. Krahl, Regina, John Guy, Keith J. Wilson, and Julian Raby eds., Shipwrecked. Tang Treasure and Monsoon Winds. Washington, DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2010. ­Lees, Shirley. Drunk Before Dawn. Belmont, Kent: Overseas Missionary Fellowship, 1979. Lian-Saging, Robert. “An Ethno-history of the Kelabit Tribe of Sarawak. A Brief Look at the Kelabit Tribe before World War II and After.” Unpublished BA diss., University of Malaya, 1976–7. Ling Roth, Henry. The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo. Vols. I–II. 2nd ed. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 1980 (1896).

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Lumholtz, Carl. Through Central Borneo. An Account of Two Years’ Travel in the Lane of the Head Hunters between the Years 1913 and 1917. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1991 (1920). Martin, Bernice. “The Pentecostal Gender Paradox: A Cautionary Tale for the Sociology of Religion.” In The Blackwell Companion to Sociology of Religion, edited by Richard K. Fenn, 52–66. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. Metcalf, Peter. A Borneo Journey into Death. Berawan Eschatology from Its Rituals. Kuala Lumpur: S. Abdul Majeed & Co., 1991. Mranata, Boedi and Handojo Susanto. Ancient Martavans: A Great Forgotten Heritage. Jakarta: Himpunan Keramik Indonesia (Indonesian Ceramic Society), 2012. Müller, Frederik. Werken van het Koninklijk Instituut vor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indie. Second edition. Amsterdam: Alfzonderlijke Werken: 1857. Nevell, Sasha. “The Matter of the Unfetish: Hoarding and the Spirit of Possessions.” HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 4, no. 3 (2014): 185–213. Nguyen Long, Kerry. “History Behind the Jar.” In A Thousand Years of Stoneware Jars in the Philippines, edited by Cynthia O. Valdes, Kerry Nguyen Long, and Artemio B. Barbosa, 25–69. Jar Collectors [Philippines] with the support of Eugenio Lopez Foundation Inc. and in cooperation with the National Museum and the Oriental Ceramic Society of the Philippines, 1992. Nyiri, Borbala. “Chasing Dragons through Time and Space: Martabani Dragon Jars in the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak, East Malaysia.” PhD diss., University of Leicester, 2016. Orr, Edwin J. Evangelical Awakenings in the South Seas. Minneapolis, MN: Bethany Fellowship, 1976. Ottema, Nanne. Chinesche Ceramiek. Handboek geschreven naar aanleiding van de verzamelingen in het Gemeentelijke Museum het Princessehof te Leeuwarden. Leeuwarden: Princessehof Museum, 1943. Pels, Peter. “The Spirit of Matter: On Fetish, Rarity, Fact, and Fancy.” In Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces, edited by Patricia Spyer, 91–121. New York and London: Routledge, 1998. Perelaer, Michel T. H. Ethnographische Beschrijving der Dajaks. Zaltbommer: J. Norman, 1870. Pietz, William. “The Problem of the Fetish, I.” Anthropology and Aesthetics 9, no. 1 (1985): 5–17. ­Pietz, William. “The Problem of the Fetish, II: The Origin of the Fetish.” Anthropology and Aesthetics 13, no. 1 (1987): 23–45. Pietz, William. “The Problem of the Fetish, III: Bosman’s Guinea and the Enlightenment Theory of Fetishism.” Anthropology and Aesthetics 13, no. 2 (1988): 105–24. Pringle, Richard. Rajahs and Rebels: The Ibans of Sarawak under Brooke Rule, 1841– 1941. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1970. Robbins, Joel. “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity.” Annual Review of Anthropology 33 (2004): 117–43.

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Robbins, Joel. “Continuity Thinking and the Problem of Christian Culture.” Current Anthropology 48, no. 1 (2007): 5–38. Robbins, Joel. “The Anthropology of Christianity: Unity, Diversity, New Directions.” An Introduction to Supplement 10. Current Anthropology 55 (2014): 157–71. Rooney, John. Khabar Gembira: A History of the Catholic Church in East Malaysia and Brunei (1880–1976). London: and Kota Kinabalu: Burns and Oates Ltd. and Mill Hill Missionaries, 1981. Roth, Rolf B. Die “heiligen Töpfe” der Ngaju-Dayak: eine Untersuchung über die Rezeption von Importkeramik bei einer altindonesischen Ethnie. Bonn: Holos, 1992. Runciman, Steven. The White Rajahs: A History of Sarawak from 1841 to 1946. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960. Saunders, Graham. Bishops and Brookes: The Anglican Mission and the Brooke Raj in Sarawak 1848–1941. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1992. Schultz, Callan. “The Christian Fetish: Modernity, Whiteness and the Christian Imaginary in Malaysia.” Ethnos, published online: June 3, 2019. https://doi.org/10.10 80/00141844.2019.1626467 Schwaner, Carl A. L. M. Borneo Beschrijving van het Stroomgebied van der Barito. Amsterdam: P. N. van Kampen, 1853. Southwell, Hudson C. Uncharted Waters. Calgary: Astana Publishing, (1973) 1999. Spyer, Patricia. “Introduction.” In Border Fetishisms: Material Objects in Unstable Spaces edited by Patricia Spyer, 1–11. New York, London: Routledge, 1998. Stargardt, Janice. “Indian Ocean Trade in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries: Demand, Distance, and Profit.” South Asian Studies 30, no. 1 (2014): 35–55. Ströber, Eva. Ming. Porcelain for a Globalised Trade. Stuttgart: Arnoldsche Art Publishers, 2013. Talla, Yahya. “The Kelabit of the Kelabit Highlands, Sarawak.” Unpublished BA diss., Universiti Sains Malaysia, 1979. Vainker, Shelagh. Chinese Pottery and Porcelain. 2nd ed. London: The British Museum Press, (1991) 2005. Walker, John H. Power and Prowess: The Origins of Brooke Kingship in Sarawak. ASAA Southeast Asia Publication Series, Honolulu: Allen & Unwin and University of Hawai‘i Press, 2002. Watson Andaya, Barbara. “Contextualizing the Global: Exploring the Roots of Pentecostalism in Malaysia and Indonesia.” Paper presented to a symposium on Management and Marketing of Globalizing Asian Religions, in Osaka, Japan, August 11–14, 2009. Whitaker, Colin C. Great Revivals. Springfield: Gospel Publishing House, 1984. Wiyono, Gani. “Timor Revival: A Historical Study of the Great Twentieth-Century Revival in Indonesia.” Asian Journal of Pentecostal Studies 4, no. 2 (2001): 269–93.

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Jar Interventions: Ceramic Containers as Disobedient Objects in Contemporary Asian Art Sooyoung Leam and Anna Grasskamp

To disobey in order to take action is the byword of all creative spirits. The history of human progress amounts to a series of Promethean acts. But autonomy is also attained in the daily workings of individual lives by means of many small promethean disobediences . . . I would say that there is good reason to study the dynamics of disobedience, the spark behind all knowledge. Gaston Bachelard, Fragments of a Poetics of Fire1

This chapter examines sculptural and performative appropriations of traditional Asian ceramic vessels through the framework of the dynamics of disobedience, which is intimately linked to the issue of creativity and autonomy, as proposed by the French scientist and philosopher Gaston Bachelard (1884–1962). According to Bachelard, this resistance to the norm can be found not only in grand creative acts, but also in the daily workings of individual lives that often go unnoticed. Focusing on the triad of creativity, disobedience, and the subversive power enacted within the realm of the everyday, this chapter seeks to analyze ceramic containers as transformative constituents of contemporary Asian art. It does so through contextualization and close examination of works by five artists from China and Korea who variously showcase the small promethean acts, pregnant with symbolic meanings, of deforming, destroying, repairing, or recreating jars. In seeing these transformed sculptural jars as products of agency performed by the artists, as well as the versatile matter of the ceramic objects they engage with, this chapter argues that the dynamics of disobedience register

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not only at the level of the formal and symbolic, but also the material; alongside the contemporary artists who have conceived the works and clusters of symbolic meanings generated by the transformed jars, it is the vibrant, or disobedient ceramic matter involved in the realization of the artworks that deserves to be considered in its own right. Although jars loom large among the ubiquitous subject matter of representation throughout twentieth-century Korean painting,2 the significance of jars as expressive sculptural materials and motifs has received limited attention thus far. Often equated with cultural authenticity and distinctive national identities, as we will show, the presence of jars in contemporary sculptural practice is primarily understood in the framework of visual aesthetics, either as poetic reinterpretations or re-evaluations of the long-standing tradition.3 Departing from the canonical narrative, this chapter considers works by the Korean artists Lee Seung-taek (1932–), Shin Mee-kyoung (1967–) and Yeesookyung (1963–), where valued ceramic vessels, namely, the white porcelain or baekja in Korean, undergo sculptural transformations—whether in form, materiality, or meaning—to resist the prescribed uses, meanings, and values imposed by society. These disobedient jars that deliberately fail to deliver their anticipated symbolic and functional roles are, however, ironically the result of the objects’ (and their matter’s) seemingly passive submission to the modelling and designing hands of the artists. The jar-based works by two Chinese artists are similar to the aforementioned examples yet are dissimilar in that they make jars undergo iconoclastic gestures of deformation and performative destruction, as in the performances and sculptures of Ai Weiwei (1957–), and revive ceramic containers, as in an installation series by Huang Yong Ping (1954–). Despite the varying degrees of artistic intervention, which range from the embellishment and reassemblage of jars to the literal shattering of ceramic vessels, all the examples embody various kinds of creative disobedience that expose the tension between “vibrant matter”4 and the imposed frameworks of artistic manipulation and authorship, unsettling common interpretations of jars. In the previous chapters we have learned about the historic meanings attributed to jars in different parts of Asia. This chapter will extend the discussion to consider how the distinctive historical, cultural, and functional qualities of Asian ceramic containers are subverted and questioned by contemporary artists. In light of the historical focus in the present volume, it looks at instances from the last fifty years in which sculptural and performative appropriations of jars were staged as critical forms of intervention. Unlike the unidentified artisans discussed earlier in this volume, who are only known through their

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surviving work, the artists examined in this study have received different levels of critical and popular recognition through both national and international platforms. While an artist such as Ai Weiwei might be more widely known for his visible acts of political disobedience performed through public activism and interviews, all five artists use their distinctive artistic practices to deconstruct and reconstruct the symbolic meanings attached to jars to subvert the constraints of tradition and national heritage. In this regard, Bachelard’s notion of creative disobedience, that emerged from his philosophical interrogations into natural elements and matter, is helpful as it enables us to examine the political dimensions of the works not only within the specific contexts in which they operate, but also in relation to their materiality. In his writings on material imagination, Bachelard saw “matter as an inherently captivating entity with the power to hold and shape human affect and imagination,”5 anticipating the paradigms of the more recent approach of vital materialism proposed by political theorist Jane Bennett (1957–). Without relying directly on Bachelard, Bennett, too, aims at overcoming a “false dichotomy” that “separates the world into ‘dull matter’ (the it and the category of things), and ‘vibrant life’ (the us, the category of beings).”6 She proposes a reconceptualization of matter as active and vibrant rather than merely recalcitrant. It is upon this set of propositions that the chapter builds to consider divergent ways in which traditional ceramic containers contribute to the making of contemporary Asian art by unsettling the binary mechanisms between tradition and modernity, dead material and human agency, object and artist.

Bound Jars and Anthropomorphic Shapes: Lee Seung-taek’s Tied White Porcelain Series Commonly identified as a category-defying maverick by Korean critics, artists, and art historians alike, Lee Seung-taek’s polyvalent practice spans seven decades; embracing the coexistence of contradictory forces, he is at once a sculptor and not a sculptor, material-defying and material-oriented, locally specific and worldcentered.7 Formally trained as a sculptor at Hongik University in the aftermath of the Korean War (1950–3), Lee’s extensive oeuvre privileges no single medium or style, often incorporating aspects of painting, drawing, sculpture, installation, and performance within the same piece. Best known for his practice of negation, which he has alternatively conceptualized as non-sculpture, non-material, or anti-concept, Lee sought to situate his practice firmly outside the conventions

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of sculpture and mainstream art movements prevalent in the decades following the Korean War, which often featured discrete stone, plaster, or metal structures mounted on stable pedestals. This was partly achieved by (re)appropriating non-artistic objects ranging from industrial waste to everyday utilities and subsequently transforming or destabilizing their (perceived) materiality. Departing from the traditional sculptural techniques of modelling or carving three-dimensional structures, Lee instead turned to the ordinarily mundane, yet laborious act of tying ropes or cords around found or refabricated objects, broadly referring to them as tied sculptures (Mukkum Chogak). This group of works includes appropriations of quotidian objects and untreated natural as well as industrial materials, ranging from books to magazines, knives, clothes, granite blocks, trees, and pebbles. What appears as the product of a seemingly straightforward practice is, however, the result of the meticulous interplay of conceptual imagination and technical craftsmanship. Otherwise-solid, inert objects are rendered soft, animated, and even sensual, as their surfaces and ridges are rigorously incised and bifurcated with a grinder and subsequently bound either with ropes, string, or other types of cord along the furrows. In Soft Rock (1974), for example, Lee transforms granite, one of the most ubiquitous sculpting materials found in Korea and used primarily for outdoor sculptures for its hardness and permanence, into a supple, voluptuous mass. The processed granite block retains a sumptuous bodily presence, as if the pressures and tensions caused by taut strings are marked onto human flesh. As Lee states in his article Korean Materials and my Work (1979) “the reciprocal relationship between material (muljil) and rope” not only “questions the conventional perception of form and materiality of the bound object,” but also “disrupts the prescribed mode of registering the world.”8 Destabilizing the viewer’s perception, binding is thus performed by the artist as a creative and symbolic gesture of subversion, challenging the perceived materiality and intended function of the bound object as well as the pre-existing values and meanings attributed to it. In this regard, the artist’s turn to prized cultural artifacts as opposed to other commodities and natural objects merits closer attention. Demonstrating a keen sensitivity toward artifacts and images that can transform the present into the past and the past into the present, Lee especially turned to motifs closely associated with folk culture, incorporating them into his practice of binding.9 The Tied White Porcelain series (Figure 9.1/Plate 25) from the 1970s is one such example, which consists of bowls, dishes, bottles, and jars created in the style of white pottery from the Chosŏn Dynasty (1392–1910).10 Referred to as baekja in Korean, their subtle hues, minimal design, and undecorated features

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Figure 9.1  Lee Seung-taek, Tied White Porcelain, 1975, porcelain, 18 × 30 × 20 cm. Private collection. Copyright: Lee Seung-taek and Gallery Hyundai.

have been widely regarded as representative of the minimalist and purist aesthetics associated with Neo-Confucianism, which emerged as the new ruling ideology of the Chosŏn period. Although white ware was produced in small quantities during the Koryo Dynasty (918–1392), it came to be used as special tableware, as well as ceremonial and burial vessels, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In the eighteenth century, large bulbous vessels, more commonly known as moon jars, were fashionable among the elite, but by then white ware had become one of the most popular types of ceramic even beyond the realm of the elite in Chosŏn Korea. During the second half of the twentieth century, baekja increasingly came to be seen as an unwavering marker of Korean culture, an embodiment of its enduring history and value. The status of baekja, and especially its moon jars as iconic cultural artifacts of Korea, has been sustained in the global context of the late twentieth century partly through its presence in the collections of leading cultural institutions in the West, notably the British Museum in London and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, as well as its prominent representation in largescale exhibitions of Korean ceramics. But baekja had already become widely

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known outside Korea and East Asia during Japan’s colonial rule over the Korean peninsula (1910–45), particularly through the interest of scholars of folk art and crafts associated with the Japanese Mingei movement. Established and theorized by the philosopher Yanagi Sōetsu (1889–1961) in the 1920s, Mingei acknowledged the beauty of household objects handcrafted by ordinary people, those who commonly remain nameless and unknown to museum visitors and historians alike. Based on analogies with Buddhist aesthetics, the movement developed its own categories of beauty, applying them to Asian artifacts to endorse a system of aesthetic appreciation for crafts from Korea and elsewhere.11 Yanagi believed that through a “pot you can understand the mind of the people, the culture of the period, its natural background and the relationship of the people and beauty.” In particular, he saw high-fired vitrified and translucent white ceramics from the Chosŏn Dynasty as a representation of a “beauty of sadness,” an embodiment of Korea’s “long, harsh and painful history.”12 In choosing the highly symbolic baekja wares as objects for binding, Lee Seung-taek went beyond sculptural experimentation with form and delved into the contested field of historical discourse. For the series, Lee interestingly avoided appropriating existing artifacts and instead commissioned a master potter to produce vessels that reinterpreted antiques. To some extent, this work was prepared by Lee’s prior knowledge of and familiarity with clay, which he had used to create models and maquettes for bronze-based sculptures. The pieces that form the Tied White Porcelain series can be largely divided into two groups. The first cluster consists of glazed, bulbous jars and bowls, each of which appears to have been violently slashed with a knife and tied tightly with a piece of white polyester string in the incisions to give the impression of malleability. The second group, on the other hand, achieves a similar visual effect through subtle deformations made by braided threads of clay that gently wrap around the ceramic wares. Yet both create the illusion that the pieces were transformed by the tightening pressure of the straps and the solid materiality of the fired jars appears elastic and versatile. The bindings, which at first glance appear to be traces of destructive gestures, are, thus, the result of meticulous composition and craftsmanship, as required by the process of ceramics production. Situated within the oeuvre of tied sculptures, the Tied White Porcelain series simultaneously reveals the artist’s playful and iconoclastic interventions into the materiality of clay and the symbolic value of prized cultural artifacts. The literal and evocative act of tying embodies the ambivalence through which Lee unsettles the established understanding of and mode of interaction with the bound object. The harnessed ceramic vessels, for instance, visually manifest

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Figure 9.2  Lee Seung-taek, gelatin silver print documentation (1975) of Hip, 1971, paint on plaster, 58 × 40 × 22 cm, and Tied White Porcelain, 1975, porcelain with rope, 17 × 32.5 cm. Copyright: Lee Seung-taek and Gallery Hyundai.

the power dynamics between the forces of oppression and the energy of the oppressed, between aggression and passivity, an impression which is amplified through their striking corporeality. This is more explicitly illustrated in a black and white photograph from the 1970s (Figure 9.2) in which a white porcelain bowl strapped with a piece of string is juxtaposed with a plaster sculpture of bound female buttocks that is hung on the wall. Placed upside down on a table, the bowl, otherwise a household object for containing rice, traditional beverages, or other condiments, is displayed before the camera as a sculptural piece, drawing the viewer’s attention to its biomorphic shape and its smooth and reflective surface. Echoing the bound bowl’s visual logic, the sculpted figure of the human body part is also tied with a rope, recalling the eroticized works by the early surrealists, such as Venus Restored (1936), the rope-bound plaster cast of an antique-style Venus torso by Man Ray (1890–1976) or Hans Bellmer’s (1902–75) photographs of his partner, Unica Zürn (1916–70), and her tightly bound corpus.13 While the tied buttocks and their pairing with the ceramic bowl in Lee’s work instantly draw attention to the objectification of the female body,

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the piece also recognizes the long-standing practice of associating vessels with femininity: the form and function of Asian vessels as receptacles and containers appear as visual metaphors of the female body in times past and present. From the previous chapters we have learned, for example, that in twelfthcentury Indonesian poetry a jar that enclosed fermentation processes was seen as an anthropomorphic rendering of a woman’s pregnant belly, an association between bodies and ceramics that was also established in Malaysia and other regions of Asia.14 Situated within the ongoing colonial discourse of Korea, Lee’s Tied White Porcelain further complicates this gendering of the vessels. As has been problematized by post-colonial debates in Korea, the Mingei movement’s scholarly and empathetic attitude, which focused international attention on traditional Korean craftsmanship, also served to reiterate colonial rhetoric.15 In reducing the identity of the nation to a single consumable object, Mingei scholars naturally assumed the position of the colonial master, at times equating Chosŏn pottery with the delicate and innocent female body.16 The poet Asakawa Noritaka (1884–1964), for example, who influenced the Mingei leader Yanagi Sōetsu and, together with his brother Asakawa Takumi (1891–1931), played a leading role in publicizing Korean ceramics, equates Korean women and ceramic objects in a poem from 1922 entitled Tsubo (jar). The poem uses a bulbous water vessel as a visual metaphor for a girl’s breast, which is then further eroticized as a walking jar reminiscent of a Korean woman who is understood as childlike, fragile, and innocent.17 The explicit corporeality of the ceramic ware in Lee’s oeuvre and its visualization of power dynamics divert attention to the objects’ historical pasts and their meanings, which continue to be examined and contested to this day. It is not surprising that Lee conceived the Tied White Porcelain series at a time when the nation fervently sought to redefine and reimagine a singular cultural identity under President Park Chung-hee’s authoritarian regime (1961–79). During Park’s eighteen-year rule, the establishment of a distinctive national culture was emphasized as a means to foster nationalism, which he regarded as the catalyst for industrial and economic growth and a way to legitimize the historical roots of the country.18 In the aftermath of the national division, asserting South Korea’s identity as a democratic, pro-American, anti-Japanese state with its own history and traditions became a particularly urgent task to differentiate it from the communist North. Governance by spectacle thus became an important tool for generating a hegemonic visual account of the nation’s past and its cultural identity: historical sites and cultural relics were systematically restored and preserved, while remnants of colonial buildings were demolished

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one after another.19 Yet, the invention of an authentic appearance of stability and enduring traditions took place under a strict nationalistic agenda.20 While certain aspects of Korean culture were upheld and extolled by the government, others, such as shamanistic rituals, were vigorously purged and repressed as signs of backwardness and hindrance to modernization. Seen as an acute response to the authoritarian regime of the 1970s, when national heritage, customs, and artifacts were endowed with new meanings and values, Lee’s fake, deformed, dysfunctional porcelains could be also understood as questioning the hegemonic narrative of an authentic culture endorsed by the political authorities. Disobeying the specific uses and roles ascribed to them at the time, the tied sculptures destabilize otherwise rarely questioned notions of what constitutes a Korean object and manifests Koreanness. Unsurprisingly, their criticality continues to resonate today, at a time when, as artist and writer Rasheed Araeen (1935–) describes, “the demand for exotic goods” persists “in the name of cultural diversity” in the global era and also the global art market where “the success of artists from Asia today is very much dependent on their Asian identities which must be visible in their work.”21 It is no wonder that baekja, as the epitome of Korean culture, is recurrently taken up by contemporary Korean artists: consider, for instance, the tranquil portrait-like depiction of porcelain jars by the photographer Koo Bohn-chang (1953–) in his Vessel series, the grid installations of scaled-down paintings of white moon jars by Kang Ik-joong (1960–), or the performative ritualization of making myriad moon jars by the ceramicist Lee Young Jae (1951–).22 Equally, a number of large-scale exhibitions of contemporary Korean ceramics held outside Korea since the late 1990s predominantly frame and discuss artists as interpreters of the nation’s religious and cultural heritage rather than as those who challenge and question it, a process in which moon jars play an important symbolic role, as is also illustrated by exhibition titles such as Moon Jar: Contemporary Translations in Britain.23 The desire to use cultural artifacts as symbolic embodiments of the nation’s so-called essential spirit or authentic ethnic identity and history not only resides within the realm of contemporary art practice, but also looms large in the global art market. The term porcelain patriotism emerged in journalistic reports on the spectacular price that a Chinese Qianlong era vase of imperial provenance fetched at an auction in 2010. The vase is possibly one of the highly politicized looted artworks that British and French forces took from the imperial Yuanming Yuan palace near Beijing in 1860, many of which ended up in European museums and Western private collections.24 In recent years, some have been bought by wealthy Chinese collectors or repatriated.25 The term

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porcelain patriotism therefore denotes a particular political situation, and labels not just the attempts by Chinese collectors to buy Chinese porcelains and take them back to China during the late twentieth century, which had a considerable impact on the international art market,26 but also slightly earlier attempts by Korea-based collectors and museums during the late 1980s and early 1990s to buy back artifacts regarded as representative of the nation’s arts and culture from owners outside Korea.27 As in the Chinese case,28 ceramics formed the core of this large-scale Asia-centered art market transfer. Considering that white porcelain vessels, just like any other cultural treasures or items of national heritage, are not merely objects of everyday use or ritual implementation but are deeply embedded in the discourse of identity politics, nationalism, and post-colonialism, Lee Seung-taek’s intervention into white porcelains reveals itself as an equally playful and political gesture. As rare and striking early examples of contemporary Korean art that deliberately deform celebrated motifs of Koreanness to make them useless and obsolete, Lee’s tied vessels not only subvert the canonical form or shape of the traditional artifacts, but also reshape the complex web of structures—political, historical, economic, and cultural—that assign particular significance to them.

Translated Jars and the Agency of Assemblages: Yeesookyoung’s and Shin Mee-kyoung’s Sculpture Series The sculptural installations by two female South Korean artists, Shin Mee-kyoung and Yeesookyung, resonate with Lee’s unsettling objects in many ways. Yet, by calling their practice of transforming the established imagery of traditional Korean ceramics processes of translation, both artists not only question the stability of the materiality of the artifacts, but the contingency of its meanings in different contexts, be they social, cultural, geographical, or historical. When one follows Jacques Derrida’s call to substitute the notion of translation with a “regulated transformation of one language by another, of one text by another,”29 the associative equation between translation and transformation is telling because it simultaneously addresses the immanence of meanings and the problematics of meaningful representation. Since 2000, Yee has been working on the Translation Vases Series in which she uses baekja and other ceramic shards as primary material for sculptures whose sizes range from palm-sized miniatures to towering monuments (Figure 9.3/Plate 26). What she calls ceramic trash30 is sourced from traditional ceramic workshops in Korea, where vases produced

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in the traditional styles are discarded when deemed inferior or imperfect. Yee goes through the laborious process of collecting and cleaning the ceramic leftovers to subsequently join the shards together with gold and epoxy glue, turning the fragments into proliferating sculptural works. Rendering visible their history as once broken and shattered vessels, Yee’s Translated Vases that partly draw on Japanese Kitsugi techniques of mending broken vessels with thick, gold linings, also invites comparison with Mend Piece (1966) by Yoko Ono (1933–). This participatory piece invites the audience to mend broken porcelain vessels she has violently shattered with a hammer. Stemming from a series of instruction pieces that Ono devised in the 1960s, Mend Piece was initially realized as a durational performance (during which the artist and her partner, John Lennon, would fix a broken vessel on a TV talk show over several episodes) and as a communal activity (in which audience members watched Ono smash a ceramic jar and were invited to take its fragments to return them a decade later for reassemblage). While both Ono’s and Yee’s reconstructions of broken ceramics signify the physical and emotional processes of reparation, they differ in that the latter turns to traditional ceramic vessels loaded with historical and cultural symbolism as opposed to mass-produced ceramic commodities. Moreover, rather than performing the destruction herself, Yee collects parts that were deemed unusable by the artisans and endows them with a new appearance and narrative. By deliberately failing to restore them into their original shapes, the objects are prevented from serving their original functions as containers or vessels. Repurposed and recontextualized as sculptural objects instead, the ceramics resist being reduced to signifiers of singular, unified historical narratives or value systems. The multifaceted aspect of the work destabilizes the illusion of a seamlessly unified whole through its emphasis on fragmentation and diversity, a visual and material language that becomes more explicit in Yee’s latest works, such as Translated Vase—Nine Dragons in Wonderland, which incorporate a diverse range of fragments that render visible the clash of contrasting shapes, styles, and references to cultural history they might signify. As much as the work is about the translation of symbols, as indicated by the nine dragons in its title that combines an auspicious number with a mythological creature, it is also about the manifold relationships between matter and meaning. Here, everyday jars with their crude brownish glazes, still used for storage and fermentation in Korean households today, form the base, while the dragon jars with finely painted blueand-white decorations grow over them only to be topped by bulbous white porcelain jars. At first sight, this layering could be interpreted as a reflection on

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Figure 9.3 Yeesookyung, Translated Vase—Nine Dragons in Wonderland, 2017. Ceramic shards, stainless steel, aluminum bars, epoxy, gold leaf, 492 × 200 × 190 cm. Copyright: Archivio Storico della Biennale di Venezia—ASAC. Photo: Andrea Avezzù.

the hierarchy of objects and, by extension, the hierarchy of values in a society, in which jars associated with peasant food culture, ceramics that please the taste of merchants and literati, as well as imperial wares could be seen as metaphors for fragmentation in that society. Only at a second glance does it become evident that the overall layering of fragments from three kinds of jars is punctuated with shards from different types of vessels. The sculptures’ protuberant structures further intensify the impression of multiplication and mutation, deviation from the norm and uncontrolled growth. The illustrated work’s verticality even evokes associations with gaseous smoke that emerges from a dark center to meander and disperse into smaller white wisps. In fact, while Yee’s sculptures are composed of static, inert objects, the way in which they are composed and presented provokes a sense of movement, flux, and metamorphosis. The artist therefore suggests the act of translation not as a one-to-one conversion, but a vibrant process always caught in the midst of transformation. From this viewpoint, the sculptures seem to reveal the complexities and discrepancies that

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arise when translating the traditional object into a contemporary artwork, trash into artistic matter, a functional commodity into a provocative sculpture. What gets lost in translation is perhaps most evidently shown by the slight differences found in the series’ Korean and English titles. In the artist’s native language, the phrase pŏnyŏktoen tojagi literally denotes translated ceramic ware. In the English translation of the title, the term ceramic ware, which lays great importance on the materiality of the objects, is replaced with vase, a term that emphasizes a vessel’s particular function or shape. Though it may have been unintended, the English title generalizes different types of jars and their complex functions under the somewhat ironic label of flower vases that serve the purpose of household decoration. Just as material differences and imperfections are embraced by Yee’s sculptures, immaterial meanings that cannot be fully communicated to their global audience are left for contemplation and reflection. For Shin Mee-kyoung, a London-based female Korean artist who similarly assigns her soap-based experiments as a series of translations, the notion stems from the personal experience of living and working abroad. Conceived at a time when she was a student in the United Kingdom, the Translation Series first emerged by substituting the distinctive material properties of marble, the staple of classical Western statues, with milky soaps. Through this simple and poetic gesture of substitution—which, in fact, required hours of cutting blocks of soap and subsequently melting, solidifying, molding, and carving them—Shin reflected on the Western canonical narratives of sculpture that also impose themselves on the artistic practices of non-Western countries. In the Translation Vase Series that followed, jars become the focus of such interrogation as their material properties are replaced with soaps in their various degrees of translucency, color, and fragrance. Retaining the shapes of vessels, the soluble properties of the fragrant soap thwart the objects’ functions as solid containers. While both Yee and Shin equate their sculptural appropriations to acts of translation, the latter visualizes this by way of substituting the material of the ceramic object with the volatile, slippery, and fragrant sanitary product of modern society. Moreover, dwelling on the history of cultural exchange mediated through ceramic trade along the Silk Road, Shin extends her personal experience to the cross-cultural histories of Asia and beyond. Questioning the distinctive national identity ascribed to such cultural artifacts, her intricate sculptures evoke reflections on how ceramics have been interpreted, adopted, and adapted by other societies or, in the words of her series title, how they are translated in new contexts. Mediation between the local and the global is partly explored through the artist’s inclusion of vessels not only from the Chosŏn Dynasty, but from other periods and regions, for example Ming and Qing Dynasty China.

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What also merits attention is Shin’s strategic display method that amplifies notions of global circulation and local trade by exhibiting the soap vases on top of crates in which the works seem to have been packed. The makeshift, portable pedestals connote the status of the objects they stage as being temporarily unpacked and therefore constantly remaining in a state of exchange and flux. When read literally, the juxtaposition between soap and box is also suggestive of makeshift podiums or “soapboxes,” which render the otherwise silent, recalcitrant jars active communicators. In her public installations, Shin complicates the mechanisms of display even further by pointedly situating the soap-based sculptures outside the museum. Placed in public toilets and outdoor parks, the works disintegrate through the abrasive rubbing of the soap by those who wash their hands with it, or from the workings of nature that gradually carve away its surfaces.31 By situating soap-based sculptures in environments where the properties of its matter can be foregrounded, material and form become undifferentiated, making the work as a whole increasingly performative. Stimulating tactile interaction with the audience when displayed in public, Shin’s soap works turn beholders into users, who transform sculpted shapes that gradually morph into formless lumps. Displaced from the conventional exhibition space, the sculptural vases elude the protective powers of white cube gallery display settings that render things untouchable, and question institutional structures that traditionally value a particular type of artistic labor over others. Through her soap pieces, Shin seems to expose this discrepancy by equating her own labor (of crafting and sculpting the structures for days, and at times even months), with the work of the rain that washes away one of her outdoor sculptures or the audiences’ daily act of rubbing the soaps to cleanse their hands. Ironically subverting the frameworks of aesthetic appreciation provided by conventional exhibition settings that frame objects as masterpieces and examples of sublime craftsmanship, Shin’s disintegrating sculptures arguably point to the limitations of cultural institutions that often impose appreciation for perfection, idealization, and preservation. What is noteworthy, however, is how the distinctive matter Shin and Yee use in their respective translation works also determines the final outcomes of their artistic endeavors. Yee’s sculptures build themselves: the jar fragments determine the construction of the sculpture as the artist can only mend them in places where two pieces fit each other’s shapes. As much as the artist enacts her artistic agency by selecting the shards, the composite sculptural work and its patterns of assemblage are guided by the individual fragments. Equally, Shin’s soap vessels appear to exert agency as they appeal to our senses, inviting us to touch, smell,

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and use them. Upon such use, their matter becomes part of us, as the soap is absorbed into our skin, making Shin’s sculptures significantly different from the ceramic objects from which they were translated. As Jane Bennett has written on “thing-power,” which to her is the “curious ability of inanimate things to animate, to act, to produce effects dramatic and subtle,” the acknowledgment of thing-power allows us to speak of matter as vibrant.32 She directs particular attention to the agency of assemblages in which human bodies engage with non-human matter and vice versa to exemplify what she means by this. Viewed in this way, the translated jars by Shin and Yee are not only (re)interpretations of ceramic objects’ formal and symbolic languages, but also of their vibrant matter or “thing-power.”33 In this sense, Yee and Shin complicate the equation that Lee’s work establishes between ceramic vessel and body part, object and subject, thing and person. Their translation works further develop the idea of oppressed (or bound) materials, liberating them in the act of reassembly and remaking to eventually allow matter to speak to us in vibrant rather than recalcitrant ways.

Jar Destruction and Revitalization: Ai Weiwei’s and Huang Yong Ping’s Works with Ceramics The gradual, poetic, and meaningful disfiguration strategies that surface in the works of Lee, Yee, and Shin embody the potential of deformation, and thus disobedience to historical ceramic containers’ original functions, values, and meanings. Although the works by the three artists indirectly engage with the idea of the complete disappearance or erasure of the jar, they do not employ iconoclastic strategies for that purpose and the actual process of producing the sculptures is labor-intensive and craft based. This contrasts heavily with iconic examples of ceramic object destruction that range from a site-specific, participatory performance staged by the British artist Clare Twomey (1968–) and a smashing exercise enacted by the Chicago-based American artist Theaster Gates (1973–) to the iconoclastic performance of Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn by artist and activist Ai Weiwei (Figure 9.4).34 In Twomey’s Consciousness/ Conscience, viewers are invited to tread on thousands of hollow unfired tiles made of what is referred to as Bone China, resulting in the destruction of the pathway and a material documentation of bodily interactions with work in museum settings. Theaster Gates, on the other hand, incorporated the shattering of ceramic objects he had produced as part of the exhibition Plate

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Convergences in 2007, which centered on a story fabricated by the artist about a Japanese ceramicist and his wife. In a widely received photographic series of 1995, Ai Weiwei drops what is labeled in the title of the work as a Han Dynasty urn. The sequence of three images shows him materially and symbolically shattering a replica (or original) of a highly prized object of national heritage, an act which has been interpreted as a critique on the “contemporary power conflicts of authority and cultural worth.”35 To Euro-American collectors throughout history it would be the iconic Ming vase that symbolizes Chinese ceramic art. As Stacey Pierson has shown, the proverbial Ming vase, whose shape in many representations is that of a Ming jar (not a vase), has come to be “a literary and visual cliché, as well as a popular figure of speech, which still retains distant echoes of its origins in real Chinese objects of the fourteenth to seventeenth centuries, but derives its meaning from an invented symbolic version of the originals.”36 Ai, however, did not choose to smash a Ming jar, but selected a Han Dynasty urn, which is a highly symbolic object in China, where the term Han refers to a dynasty and also the Han ethnic majority of modern China, which can trace its origins back to Neolithic times. The comparatively long-lasting Han Dynasty is regarded as a golden age of technological advancement and cultural achievement. Ai’s photographic documentation shows the moment of this highly symbolic vessel’s obliteration, which turns the viewers into powerless spectators of an overtly iconoclastic gesture. Elsewhere, the artist carries out similar forms of interventions by painting a corporate logo over the surface of presumably antique Chinese pottery in Han Dynasty Urn with Coca-Cola Logo (1993) or dipping what appear to be seven-thousand-year-old vases into a range of vivid industrial paints (Colored Vases, 2006), and pulverizing an allegedly Neolithic

Figure 9.4  Ai Weiwei, Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, 1995. Three gelatin silver prints, 148 × 121 cm each. Copyright: Ai Weiwei studio / Courtesy of the artist.

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urn into powder to be displayed in a glass jar (Dust to Dust, 2009). The works by Ai, as those by Twomey and Gates, use the irreversible act of destruction and deformation of the ceramic wares as subversive provocations, which in the case of Ai’s works carry overt political connotations. While Ai recolored ancient vessels in Colored Vases (2006), a large ceramic vessel known as Color Jar of the same year is a new creation by Ai’s workshop Fake Design. The piece originally formed part of the installation Pillars (2006),37 which consists of sixteen porcelain containers. They are glazed in gaudy monochrome colors and form hugely enlarged minimalistic versions of common vase shapes from the history of Chinese porcelain. As individual pieces the Color Jars fit into Ai’s series of installation works that use the medium of ceramics to engage with the idea of the readymade, whose most famous example, Duchamp’s Fountain (1917), consists of a porcelain object, a signed urinal. Clustered together, the jars form Pillars; when displayed under the open sky, pillars that support heaven (as sacred mountains would do in Chinese thought), but they also relate ironically to the idea of pillars of civilization (similar to Korean ceramics that were politically charged with ideas about national progress and identity, Chinese wares would carry similarly loaded symbolic implications as masterpieces and examples of the highest achievements of Chinese imperial craftsmanship). As in many of his works in other media, Ai uses ceramic matter to question notions of authenticity and reveal how national identity, heritage, and tradition are (ready)made concepts that can be ignored, subverted, and even dropped and broken into shards. For Ai, ceramics are one among many media that serve his conceptual inquiries into matter and meaning.38 Only one year after Ai’s Pillars/Colored Jars, China-born France-based artist Huang Yong Ping turned to the use of ceramic vessels in his Well series of 2007 (Figure 9.5/Plates 27–30). Chinese water wells are traditionally stone-and earthenware-built structures in geometrical shapes that can be artfully decorated; the shape of the subterranean part of such wells resembles an elongated tube-like container without a base. The three vessels in the Well series are glazed in the greenish and turquoise colors typical of historical earthenware jars made in China. During the Tang Dynasty jars with such glazes came from Arabia and were then copied in Chinese workshops and exported again to other parts of Asia, the Australian continent, and Europe.39 A small jar covered in the same type of blue-green glaze as two of Huang’s Well jars can be found in the collection of the Ethnological Museum in Leiden. Attributed to an unknown kiln in South China, it was “found in South Sumatra, where a pot of this kind is known as a ‘roentjoeng,’ and is used as a water container . . .

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B

D

Figure 9.5  A. Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 152.4 × 67.3 cm (60 × 26½ in). B. Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 129.5 × 59.7 cm (51 × 23½ in). C. Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 152.4 × 67.3 cm (60 × 26½ in). D. Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 129.5 × 59.7 cm (51 × 23½ in). Copyright: The Archives of Huang Yong Ping. Courtesy of The Archives of Huang Yong Ping and Gladstone Gallery.

for ritual washing.”40 Huang’s three Well jars do not contain sacred water, but house three different kinds of creatures: a snake lurks inside the light green container and bats occupy the blue-green jar with the brownish top while a goat hides in the third container. The snake that emerges from the jar reminds us of

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the practice of snake charming (Figure 9.6/Plate 31). But who is charming the snake in Huang’s Well? Is it the artist who has tamed the beast or is the snake potentially attacking visitors? While potentially threatening, the snake-jar is the most common of the three wells, an object that has its place in the history of Chinese street culture. The bat-filled jar on the other hand evokes the space of a cave, the natural habitat of the animals. Caves play an important role as cavegrottoes in Daoist tales in which they figure as paradise-like spaces where animals considered auspicious reside, for example, bats (fú 蝠, which forms a homonym with fú 福 (good luck)).41 Like cave openings in medieval Chinese narratives, the jar-cave forms a gateway to a parallel universe from which auspicious bats emerge. The combination of goat and jar is the most unusual among the three wells and the most resistant to interpretation. One possible reading could be a reversal of surface decoration and content that engages with goat-shaped and animal-painted vessels, an interpretation further supported by other works in the Well series that feature the heads of other mammals.42 While the goat (like the bats and the snake) emerges from a jar that appears to be a gateway to another world, all the animals in the installation are obviously dead. This evokes the role that jars play as containers of Chinese medicine. Goat meat and horns, bats’ skeletons, and most famously snake wine, which consists of snakes’ bodies submerged in brandy, all play vital roles in traditional Chinese medicine practices. When considered in relation to jar-stored medical substances holding promises of a prolonged life and good health, Huang’s dead animals in jars might be seen to promise access to heaven on earth. Like materia medica, a vibrant matter believed to have powerful effects on the human body, Huang’s lifelike creatures occupy the liminal space between live matter and dead material. The use of taxidermy connects the Well series to Huang’s larger output of works that incorporate stuffed animals and the work of other artists including Peter Friedl’s (1960–) widely known and equally controversial stuffed giraffe exhibited as The Zoo Story in 2007’s Documenta 12. In both cases, the sculptural interventions of the animals—suspended between life and death—temporarily repurpose the surrounding contexts: in the work of Peter Friedl, the exhibition space is turned into a zoo, while Huang Yong Ping’s Well series turns the museum into a garden connected to subterranean springs, if we take the work’s title literally, or subterranean wells of life in a more general sense. In each work, the container marks a world within a world, the museum world with its architecturally designed cubes and boxes in Friedl’s Zoo Story and the enclosed protected spaces of ceramic jars that function as gateways to parallel universes filled with animals in Huang’s. Understanding Huang Yong Ping’s jar interventions in relation to

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Figure 9.6  Anonymous artist, Snake Charmer, second half of nineteenth century, watercolor on pith paper, 17.7 × 10 cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Bequest of Mrs. Winifred Bell, 1937, accession number 1937-45-1qq.

Deleuze’s notion of assemblage, as examples of an alliance of human and nonhuman forces into “living, throbbing confederations”43 during the act of artistic creation, Well illustrates how the vibrant matter of traditional ceramic containers contributes to the making of contemporary Asian art that seeks to overcome clear-cut divides between dead bodies and living entities. Correspondingly, in 2010 Huang destroys the container, unleashing the beast altogether: in the sculpture Wu Zei a gigantic hybrid octopus-cuttle fish creature is suspended from a museum’s ceiling, powerfully taking spatial control of its white cube aquarium, invaded by the occasional tiny museum visitor.44 In Well and Wu Zei Huang uses the language of ecology to comment on art’s power to bring things to life within specific material confines. In Well, jars are his equivalent to the enclosure of the

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museum: like the walls of the gallery space that simultaneously divide and blur the lines between real and imagined agencies, the jars provide spaces in which vibrant matter rules and disobeys clear distinctions between life and death.

­Conclusion As one of the most ancient, familiar, and ubiquitous objects of daily life, ceramic jars continue to resurface as important motifs and material constituents in contemporary Asian art practices. The works examined in this chapter reveal how artists from China and Korea have appropriated jars—as functional vessels, cultural artifacts, and vibrant matter—to intervene in the reception of established object narratives in their respective contexts. In examining divergent forms and different levels of disobedience manifested through the works, this chapter seeks to illustrate not only the extraordinary versatility of the jar’s motif, but also its materiality that prompts contemporary artistic imagination and creative acts of subversion. Gendered in Lee’s bound objects, reassembled out of fragments in Yee’s protuberant structures, rematerialized in Shin’s pieces, broken into pieces by Ai, and filled with animals by Huang, the ceramic jars in these works refuse to be assimilated into inert, stable, dead objects. Whether ceramic matter pushes against binding ropes, as in the Tied White Porcelain series, guides and predetermines patterns of assemblage, as demonstrated by Translated Vase, actively invites tactile contact, as with the soap-based Translation Series, provokes an act of destruction, as performed in Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, or inspires the filling of empty shells, as in the Well series, all of the examples highlight jars’ potential to be dynamic and vibrant.

Notes 1 Gaston Bachelard, Fragments of a Poetics of Fire, trans. Kenneth Haltman (Dallas: Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture, 1991), 82. 2 Consider, for instance, the paintings by Kim Hwan-ki (1913–74), Do Sang-bong (1902–77), Byeon Chong-ha (1926–2000), or conceptual interpretations of the subject matter found in abstract works by Park Seo-bo (1931–) and Chung Changsup (1927–2011). 3 Although a number of large-scale contemporary Korean ceramic exhibitions have been held outside Korea since the late 1990s, these exhibitions predominantly

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4 ­5

6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13

14 15

16 17

18

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frame and discuss the artists as interpreters of the nation’s religious and cultural heritage rather than as those who challenge and question it. Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2010). James L. Smith, “New Bachelards? Reveries, Elements and Twenty-First Century Materialism,” Altre Modernità / Otras modernidades/ Autres modernités/ Other Modernities (October 16, 2012): 156–67, 163. Smith, “New Bachelards?”, 159, referring to Bennett, vii. Yoon Jin-sup, “Lee Seung-taek: The Eternal Maverick [Isŭngt’aek kŭ yŏngwŏnhan idana],” Gana Art 34 (November–December 1993): 105–10. Lee Seung-taek, “Korean Materials and my Work [Han’guk chŏgin sojae wa naŭi gŏt],” Space (July 1979): 56. Lee Seung-taek, “Korean Materials.” The series has been variously titled as “White Porcelain”, “Tied White Porcelain,” or “Tied Yi Dynasty Porcelain.” Translated and quoted in Yuko Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism (New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004), 131. Yuko Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory. The fact that Lee Seung-taek was not only aware of these artworks but also the subversive potential of Surrealism can be glimpsed from the compendium Woman Sculpture of the World (Seoul: Yolhwadang, 1976) Lee authored. Jiří Jákl, “Javanese Rice Beer, Chinese ‘Rice Wine’, and the So-called ‘Mercury Jars’ in the Indo-Malay World before 1500 CE,” in the present volume. Criticism on Yanagi’s aestheticization of Chosŏn craft work took its force in the 1980s, beginning with writers Kim yun-su’s and Mun Myŏng-dae’s reading of his theorization as at once colonialist and Orientalist. See Mun Myŏng-dae, The Theories and Methodologies of Korean Art History [Han’gunk misulsahak ŭi iron’gwa pangbŏp] (Seoul: Yeolhwadang, 1989). This view is developed in detail by Yuko Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory. Asakawa Noritaka, “Tsubo” (1922), translated and reproduced in Kim Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty: Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan (Durham, NC and London, Duke University Press, 2007), 33–4. Moon Chung-in and Jun Byung-joon, “Modernization Strategy: Ideas and Influences,” in The Park Chung Hee Era, ed. Kim Byung-kook and Ezra F. Vogel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011), 115–39, 123. David Harvey, “The Political Economy of Public Space,” in The Politics of Public Space, ed. Setha Low and Neil Smith (New York: Routledge, 2005), 17–34, 29.

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20 The practice of inventing folk customs, myths, and tradition is commonly done across different societies and cultures. See, The Invention of Tradition, ed. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1983). ­21 Rasheed Araeen, “Art Institutions, Visual Culture, and Territoriality, and Their Roles in Defining and Legitimizing the Contemporary,” An Expanded Questionnaire on the Contemporary: Part I, Asia Art Archive, online publication, https://aaa.org.hk/en/ideas/ideas/an-expanded-questionnaire-on-thecontemporary-part-i (accessed July 31, 2018). 22 Kang Ik-Joong, Happy World, 2008. Mixed media mounted on wooden board; Koo Bohn-chang, BM 04, 2006. Photography, 63 × 50 cm; Lee Young-jae, Spindle vase, 2000–2013. Stoneware with petalite oak ash glaze, 41.5 × 31.6 cm. 23 “Moon Jar: Contemporary Translations in Britain”, Korean Cultural Centre, London, June 18–August 17, 2013. Other examples include: “From the Fire: A Survey of Contemporary Korean Ceramics”, a touring exhibition in the USA, January 25, 2004–August 20, 2009; “Life in Ceramics: Five Contemporary Korean Artists”, Fowler Museum UCLA, August 22, 2010–February 13, 2011; “Contemporary Korean Ceramics”, V&A Museum, London, May 19, 2017– February 11, 2018; “Contemporary Korean Ceramics”, Smithsonian Museum, October 22, 1997–January 22, 1999. 24 James Hevia, “Plunder, Markets, and Museums: The Biographies of Chinese Imperial Objects in Europe and North America”, in What’s the Use of Art? Asian Visual and Material Culture in Context, ed. Morgan Pitlka (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007), 129–41. 25 After a media scandal in 2009, a set of bronze objects known as the “zodiac animal heads” was repatriated by French president François Hollande in 2013. On the zodiac animal heads see, Kristina Kleutghen, “Heads of State: Looting, Nationalism and Repatriation of the Zodiac Bronzes,” in Ai Weiwei: Circle of Animals, ed. Susan Delson (New York: Prestel, 2011), 162–83. 26 Tim Foster, “Perception, Illusion and Manipulation: Chinese Art at Auction”, in Collecting Chinese Art: Interpretation and Display, ed. Stacey Pierson, London: Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art, Colloquies on Art and Archaeology in Asia no. 20 (2000): 69–81. 27 Emma Crichton-Miller, “Will Korean Ceramics Regain Their Value on the Global Market?” Apollo, November 16, 2016, https://www.apollo-magazine.com/willkorean-ceramics-regain-value-global-market/ (accessed June 1, 2019). 28 Foster, “Perception, Illusion and Manipulation: Chinese Art at Auction.” 29 Jacques Derrida, Positions, trans. Alan Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1981), 20. 30 “Kwon Mee-yoo’s interview with Yeesookyung”, in Korea Times, February 16, 2015. http://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/culture/2015/02/203_174196.html (accessed June 26, 2019).

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31 Shin Mee-kyoung, Written in Soap–A Plinth Project, MMCA Gwacheon, 2013. Soap, 300 × 200 × 170 cm; Shin Mee-kyoung, Toilet Project (2003–ongoing). ­32 Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things, 6. 33 Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. 34 Clare Twomey, Consciousness/Conscience, 2001–present. Floor installation; low fired bone china tiles. Theaster Gates, Smashing exercise, 2007. Performance, installation as part of the exhibition, Plate Convergences held at Hyde Park Art Center, Chicago. 35 Ai Weiwei and Anthony Pins, eds., Ai Weiwei: Spatial Matters: Art, Architecture and Activism (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2014), 35. 36 Stacey Pierson, “Porcelain as Metaphor—Inventing the ‘Ming Vase,’’’ in her From Object to Concept: Global Consumption and the Transformation of Ming Porcelain (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2013), 57–80. 37 Ai Weiwei, Pillars, Beijing, 2006. Sixteen glazed porcelain vessels. H. 70–86 in. 38 For an in-depth discussion of Ai’ s ceramic works also see the contributions to Joseph Newland, ed., Ai Weiwei: Dropping the Urn (Ceramic Works, 5000 BCE–2010 CE), exh. cat. (Glenside, PA: Arcadia University Art Gallery, 2010). 39 See chapter by Eva Ströber in the present volume and Anna Grasskamp and WenTing Wu, “We Call Them ‘Ginger Jars’: European Re-framings of Chinese Ceramic Containers,” Vormen uit Vuur 232, no. 3 (2016): 68. 40 Online museum label, https://collectie.wereldculturen.nl/#/query/27aa0ae5-97454a3d-b32d-6993725c90e7. 41 Lydia Sing-chen Chiang, “Visions of Happiness: Daoist Utopias and Grotto Paradises in Early and Medieval Chinese Tales,” Utopian Studies 20, no. 1 (2009): 97–120. 42 Huang Yong Ping, Well [two works], 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, Sotheby’s, New York, November 17, 2007, lot 526, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2017/ contemporary-art-day-auction-n09714/lot.526.html (accessed June 19, 2019). 43 Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things, 33. The author builds on Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987). 44 We are here referring to the temporary display of the installation in the exhibition What about Art? Contemporary Art from China, Qatar Museums Gallery ALRIWAQ, March 14–July 16, 2016.

Bibliography Ai Weiwei and Anthony Pins, eds. Ai Weiwei: Spatial Matters: Art, Architecture and Activism. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2014. ­Araeen, Rasheed. “Art Institutions, Visual Culture, and Territoriality, and Their Roles in Defining and Legitimizing the Contemporary.” An Expanded Questionnaire on the

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Contemporary: Part I, Asia Art Archive, online publication, https://aaa.org.hk/en/ ideas/ideas/an-expanded-questionnaire-on-the-contemporary-part-i (accessed July 31, 2018). Bachelard, Gaston. Fragments of a Poetics of Fire. Translated by Kenneth Haltman. Dallas: Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture, 1991. Bennett, Jane. Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2010. Brandt, Kim. Kingdom of Beauty: Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan. Durham, NC and London, Duke University Press, 2007. Chiang, Lydia Sing-chen. “Visions of Happiness: Daoist Utopias and Grotto Paradises in Early and Medieval Chinese Tales.” Utopian Studies 20, no. 1 (2009): 97–120. Crichton-Miller, Emma. “Will Korean Ceramics Regain Their Value on the Global Market?” Apollo, November 16, 2016, https://www.apollo-magazine.com/willkorean-ceramics-regain-value-global-market/ (accessed June 1, 2019). Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Translated by Brian Massumi. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1987. Derrida, Jacques. Positions. Translated by Alan Bass. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1981. Foster, Tim. “Perception, Illusion and Manipulation: Chinese Art at Auction.” In Collecting Chinese Art: Interpretation and Display, edited by Stacey Pierson, 69–81. London: Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art, Colloquies on Art and Archaeology in Asia No. 20, 2000. Grasskamp, Anna, and Wu Wen-ting. “We Call Them ‘Ginger Jars’: European Reframings of Chinese Ceramic Containers.” Vormen uit Vuur 232, no. 3 (2016): 64–71. Harvey, David. “The Political Economy of Public Space.” In The Politics of Public Space, edited by Setha Low and Neil Smith, 17–34. New York: Routledge, 2005. Hevia, James. “Plunder, Markets, and Museums: The Biographies of Chinese Imperial Objects in Europe and North America.” In What’s the Use of Art? Asian Visual and Material Culture in Context, edited by Morgan Pitlka, 129–41. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. Hobsbawm, Eric, and Terence Ranger, eds. The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983. Kikuchi, Yuko. Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism. New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004. Kim Young-won. Chosŏn Dynasty White Ware [Chosŏn Baekja]. Seoul: Daewonsa, 1991. Kleutghen, Kristina. “Heads of State: Looting, Nationalism and Repatriation of the Zodiac Bronzes.” In Ai Weiwei: Circle of Animals, edited by Susan Delson, 162–83. New York: Prestel, 2011. ­Kwon Mee-yoo. Interview with Yeesookyung in “Telling stories through pottery”. Korea Times, February 16, 2015. http://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/ culture/2015/02/203_174196.html (accessed June 26, 2019).

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Lee Seung-taek. “Korean Materials and my Work [Han’guk chŏgin sojae wa naŭi gŏt].” Space, July 1979: 56. Moon Chung-in and Jun Byung-joon. “Modernization Strategy: Ideas and Influences.” In The Park Chung Hee Era, edited by Kim Byung-kook and Ezra F. Vogel, 115–39. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011. Mun Myŏng-dae. The Theories and Methodologies of Korean Art History [Han’guk misulsahak ŭi iron’gwa pangbŏp]. Seoul: Yeolhwadang, 1989. Newland, Joseph, ed., Ai Weiwei: Dropping the Urn (Ceramic Works, 5000 BCE–2010 CE), exh. cat. Glenside, PA: Arcadia University Art Gallery, 2010. Noritaka, Asakawa. “Tsubo” (1922), translated and reproduced in Kim Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty: Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan, 33–4. Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2007. Pierson, Stacey. From Object to Concept: Global Consumption and the Transformation of Ming Porcelain. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2013. Smith, James L. “New Bachelards? Reveries, Elements and Twenty-First Century Materialism.” Altre Modernità / Otras modernidades/ Autres modernités/ Other Modernities (October 16, 2012): 156–67. Yoon Jin-sup. “Lee Seung-taek: The Eternal Maverick [Isŭngt’aek kŭ yŏngwŏnhan idana].” Gana Art 34 (November–December 1993): 105–10.

Concluding Thoughts on Transformative Jars: Asian Ceramic Vessels as Transcultural Enclosures Anne Gerritsen and Anna Grasskamp

The collection of the Wellcome Trust in London, which, according to its mission statement, aims to connect science, medicine, life, and art, includes a large number of jars.1 A search for apothecary jars in the collection catalogue yields 580 results; drug jars number over 780, tobacco jars 662. Some of these might be cross-labelled, so the overall number of jar-shaped objects might be different from the total of these categories alone. But it is clear that in a collection concerned with how we think and feel about health, vessels that contain (or once contained) health-related substances play a key part. One object stands out for its unusual shape: a Japanese tobacco jar, made of boxwood, and carved into the shape of a human skull (Figure 10.1/Plate 32). An ivory snake slithers through the ear and eye sockets. Too early to signify the threat to life we now know tobacco poses, this eighteenth-century tobacco jar serves instead as a memento mori: a reminder of the inescapability of death in life. In this concluding section, we will use this object to reflect on some of the themes that have emerged in this collection of essays. Of course, this tobacco jar does not fit properly—it is not one of the Asian ceramic vessels we have been concerned with in this volume— but the multiple ways in which the theme of transformation is displayed in this object are striking, and its otherness from the ceramic materials discussed in this collection instructive. The maker of this tobacco jar worked with two types of material: boxwood, which he or she (but probably he) hollowed out, carved, and smoothed to transform it into a skull, and ivory, which he bent and carved to create the shape of a snake. These creative processes of transforming raw materials into distinct shapes are perhaps not explicitly discussed in each and every chapter in this

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Figure 10.1  Tobacco jar, made from carved boxwood, with an ivory-carved snake. Eighteenth century, Japan. Science and Society Picture Library, Science Museum Group, London. Copyright: Science Museum Group.

volume but form the basis for all further discussions about these objects. All the jars discussed in this volume—jars with handles, jars containing wine or fish or human remains, jars that transport goods (or are transported themselves) and so on—started as earth and water and were transformed into vessels by human hands and the power of fire. Taken together, the chapters in this volume have shown how that creative process of making ceramic enclosures in turn facilitated multi-faceted transformations: from life to death; from natural resource to traded commodity; from the uncontained to the contained, from the obedient to the disobedient. All of these processes started with the shaping of clay. The rich variety of shapes discussed in these chapters highlights the significance of shape for the construction of meaning. The loops or lugs of clay attached around the shoulders of the jars studied by Louise Cort, for example, are what make the vessels container jars: jars used to transport commercial goods over long distances, which required stoppers, tied by means of the lugs

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to the jars, to contain the goods placed inside the jar. It is those small ceramic shapes that point to the function of the object, and thus its meaning. But it is also the copied form of those shapes, attached to jars that no longer required airtight stoppers, that tells the connected story from early examples of container jars dating to the Tang Dynasty to much later copies of such jars, on display in Vietnamese reception rooms or used on the occasion of tea ceremonies in Japan. They were no longer utilized for long-distance transportation, but their shape, and especially this loop detail, connected these later, aesthetically pleasing objects to their long history as functional vessels intended for transport. It was also the shape of the jars that made them suitable for the fermentation processes that Jiří Jákl discusses. They had a wide base, the shape of a barrel, a flaring neck, and sometimes a small spout. It is the shape that allows Jákl to draw conclusions about the vessels’ use and meaning: both the short spout and the four lugs on the shoulders make sense when seen in the context of the practice of burying objects. The stage of fermentation of the contents of a buried vessel could be identified by means of the short spout and the lugs served to pull the vessel out of the ground when it was ready. These two cases show that shapes are key for the construction of meaning. This does not mean that the meanings of shapes are unchanging or universal; shapes are part of a complex set of factors that create meanings in context. And, as contexts change, so do their meanings. The piece by Wen-Ting Wu demonstrates a different aspect of the changing ways in which shape and function construct meaning. The shape of the large fishbowls that are the focus of her chapter facilitate their function as bowls to keep ornamental carp. But their shape took on a different meaning as they traveled to Europe; their large size, and the associated difficulties of transporting them over long distances, made these into prestige objects, attractive to the King of Poland and Elector of Saxony, August the Strong. Decorated with fish, the objects lost their function as artificial ponds and became planters. From water-filled objects hosting fish they were transformed into soil-filled vessels for precious foreign plants, such as bergamot and lime trees. While their shape remained the same, their context and content had changed, and thus they acquired new layers of meaning, to which, over time, further layers could be added as they moved from palace garden into museum display or storage. This illustrates that as long as an object continues to gain new beholders, the transformative process of meaning making continues as well. The transcultural movement of jars also led and continues to lead to other kinds of transformations. As necessary tools for the transportation of commercial goods, jars serve as agents of trade. Even the tobacco jar in the shape of a skull

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plays its role in trade, in this case the trade in tobacco leaves. The jar holds the traded object, whether it is tobacco or wine or oil, and while the contents are held within the jar, the jar and its contents form an item of consumption. Sometimes, the traded goods contained within the jars had come from far away, as in the case of the tobacco jar, and sometimes the jar traveled together with its contents and covered vast distances, as we saw in the case of Eva Ströber’s jars. Ströber shows how the movement of precious goods inside functional storage and container jars goes back at least to the ninth century. Jars have been excavated from shipwrecks located between the edges of the Mediterranean in the far West to the East China Sea and the Philippines in the East. Connecting the dots formed by these excavated jars allows us to trace the maritime routes along which goods were transported, even if the contents of the vessels have long disappeared. Atthasit Sukkham and Sharon Wong, too, deal with jars whose contents rarely remain. In their cases, the transformations can be found in the technology of making jars. The Siamese vessels studied by Sukkham served to hold food, drink, sacred water, or smaller vessels and were closely associated with local practices of making in the three separate sites he studies. But these local forms were transformations of shapes made earlier in China. Shape and function were transmitted from elsewhere, transformed by modes of making into locally significant objects. The jars that Sharon Wong explores, jars made in China and jars made in Central Vietnam, demonstrate, like Ströber’s jars, flourishing patterns of trade across cultural and political boundaries as well as shared practices of making and using jars. The transformations of meanings across such distances and differences coexisted with these shared practices. The mobility and fluidity that characterized the region that stretched from southern China into Southeast Asia made possible both differentiation and integration. In several of the chapters, the transformation of wood and ivory, or indeed of clay and water that shaped these jars is echoed in the imagined transformations that are associated with these objects. Anne Gerritsen’s chapter, for example, addresses not so much a concrete and/or material change, but the imagination or possibility of change, brought within reach by means of the consumption of wine from a fine vessel or by association with the visual world depicted on that vessel. The ultimate transformation from life to death, from this world to the other, features in Borbala Nyiri’s chapter. The tobacco jar in the shape of a skull points most emphatically to the constant presence of death in life, but instead of pointing to death by means of shape, Nyiri’s containers serve to contain death: they hold the remains of the deceased. But the meanings of these objects are far from constant; the communities in Borneo that treasured these objects changed

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socially, economically, and most of all religiously during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. While such objects continued to be part of the material culture of their locality, their place within the community changed from items associated with ancestry and spirituality and worthy of exorcism to emblems of past times. The artworks that feature in the chapter by Sooyoung Leam and Anna Grasskamp, all described as jar-based objects, are subjected to numerous attempts to bring the material under control. But rather than passively undergoing the shaping, stuffing, breaking, or wrapping, these objects push back. Meanings are imposed upon these objects by those who have their own agendas and intentions, but in contrast to the acceptance that characterizes most of the jars in this volume, the objects in this chapter refuse to undergo such treatments, or they respond by being resistant and “disobedient”. As (art) historians, anthropologists, and archaeologists, we write about objects that change in all possible ways, including shape, use, meaning, and place. We can only capture these multiple transformations if we read the objects in the many contexts in which they gain meaning and apply multiple perspectives. Only by means of collaboration and conversation are we able to see what all these objects tell us: about the constant fluxes of material and object, function and shape, life and death.

Note 1

The Wellcome collection combines objects from various other museums, including the Science Museum in London.

Index Abbasid 119–125, 134, 136–7 actant 215 ada (spirit) 215 advertised, advertising 6, 23, 26 aesthetic, aesthetics 3, 4, 7, 76, 130, 147, 151, 158, 162, 182, 186, 189, 233, 236–7, 245, 260 agency 3, 7–8, 37, 53, 232, 234, 241, 245–6 Ai Weiwei 233–4, 246–7 alcohol 3, 6, 8, 13, 21, 22, 24–5, 37–52, 195, 209–10 alkaline 123 amphorae 124, 127, 134–5, 179 Amster, Matthew 214 Amsterdam 78, 152, 156, 188 An Nhon county 102–3 Angkor Wat 41, 43 Anglican 217 animal, animals 18, 22, 24, 71, 147, 155–6, 209, 250, 252 camel 134 carp 148, 155, 260 elephant 70–1 fish 7, 40, 46–7, 77–8, 123, 136, 148–56, 181, 251, 259–60 frog 149 goat 15, 24, 134, 249–50 goldfish 148–56, 163 horse 27–8, 70, 125 leopard 128 lion 162 rhinoceros 128 tiger 106 tuna 136 turtle 128 animate, animated 163, 235, 246 animism, animistic 204, 207, 209, 215–7, 219 anthropology, anthropologist 2, 7, 207–8, 212, 216, 262 anthropomorphic 7, 191, 216, 234, 239 apple 153

Arab 66, 119, 120–2, 125–8, 132–3, 135–7, 153, 179, 183, 248 Arabic 131 ­Araeen, Rasheed 240 archaeological, archaeology, archaeologist 2, 3, 5, 7, 18–9, 30, 38, 43–4, 46, 64, 66, 69, 73, 74–5, 79, 95, 97, 101–2, 104, 106–8, 119, 124, 126, 128, 130, 132–4, 136, 182, 262 archaeological sites (for kiln sites see kilns, for shipwreck sites see shipwrecks, for temple sites see temples) 38–9, 44, 46, 66, 69, 71, 73, 95, 119, 126–7, 130, 135–6, 158, 184 Banshan site 149 Cambodia, sites in 44 Cardamom Mountain burial site in Cambodia 74, 77 Edo sites 193 Fort Canning 43 Fuhoushan site 47 Fujian 43 Henan site 20 Japanese sites 43, 78 Kota Cina site 43 Kyoto, site near 188 Lamu archipelago 128 Machang site 149 Majiayao site 149 Mantai 126 Meitao Garden 98, 107 Pa Yang site 74 Sacred Hill site 43 Siraf 124–6, 131–2 Sukhothai site 74 Troluwan 43 Tuban 43 Zhending site 20 arrack 51 art history, art historical, art historian 2–3, 8, 73, 149, 234, 262

264

Index

art market 240–1 Asakawa Noritaka 239 Asakawa Takumi 239 ash 2, 72, 74, 98, 122, 134, 192 Asiatic Society of India 155 asparagus fern 153 assemblage 47, 107, 233, 241–2, 245–6, 251, 252 Astana 133 August Friedrich, prince-bishop 152 auspicious 22, 27, 106, 131, 162, 215, 250 Australia, Australian 69, 78, 80, 207, 211, 248 Ayutthaya (city) 63–9, 72–3, 76, 78–9, 186–8 Bachelard, Gaston 232, 234 baekja (white porcelain) 233, 235–7, 240–1 Baghdad 121, 124–5 Bali 39, 42–3 ballast 134–5 Bangkok 69 Bao Kui 151–2 Bario revival 206–7, 215 ­Barus 126 Basra 119–20, 123–7, 129, 133–7 bat 249–50 bazaar 210 beads 106, 190, 210 bean 47, 100 beer 21, 37–9, 40–3, 45–7, 49–52, 190 Beijing 19, 240 Bellmer, Hans 238 Bennett, Jane 234, 246 betel nut 52, 79 Bidayuh community 217 binding, see also tied sculpture 235, 237–41, 252 bird 16–7, 194–5, 209 Bizen ware 195 black 14, 69, 73–4, 97, 107, 123, 184, 186, 238 black-and-white 73 blue 47, 69, 78, 79, 105–7, 123, 126–9, 150, 152, 160, 162–3, 242, 248–9 blue-and-white 47, 69, 73, 78, 79, 105–7, 152, 163, 192, 242 Blyth, Edward 155 Bodhi tree 70–1, 74

bone 205, 214 fish bone 78, 123, 136 Borneo 3–5, 7–8, 43, 71, 106, 204–19, 261 Borneo Evangelical Mission (BEM) 207, 211 bottle 6, 20–3, 29, 42, 46–7, 70, 73, 77, 235 bowl 1, 43, 47, 70–1, 73–5, 106, 135, 149, 152–4, 156–7, 159, 183, 185, 188, 235, 237–8, 260 brass 210 breed, breeding 147–8, 151–2, 154–6, 163–4 brew, brewing 6, 38, 49, 134, 190, 205, 209 Britain, British 66, 69, 132, 156, 207, 240, 246 Brooke colonial administration 206, 210 brown 17–8, 22, 68–77, 79, 95–107, 122, 135, 182, 185–6, 188, 192, 195, 205, 242, 249 Brown, Roxana 39, 64 Brunei 71, 78–80, 108 burial 75, 77, 123, 179, 205, 209–20, 213–4, 236 burial container 205, 210, 213–4 burial ritual 75, 209–10, 213–4 Burma, see Myanmar cabinet 104, 156–8 cachepots 148, 152, 162 cake 25, 48 Calcutta 155, 163 calligraphy 18, 29, 189 Cambodia 3, 43–4, 66, 75, 77, 79, 187 Cao Zhao 154 cargo 49, 78–9, 106, 121, 126, 134–6, 179, 187–8 ­carnation 153 cash crop 210 castle daimyo castles 193 Edo Castle 193 Eutin Castle 152–3 Friedenstein Castle 157 Hohenschwangau Castle 153 Prasat (castle/temple/palace) 71 Tra Ban Castle 102 Catholic 217 cattle 70, 133 celadon 17, 69, 73, 107, 128, 183, 186

Index Chao Phraya River 63, 6 charcoal 50–1 chemical 3–6, 38, 42, 47, 124, 137 Chengdu 27 Chicago 19, 246 Chigusa 4, 130, 180, 189–90, 195 chipping 216 church 207, 213–5, 217 Cixi, see Empress Dowager Cixi clay 13, 17–19, 42, 68, 70, 73–4, 77, 97, 100, 103, 122–4, 148, 152, 159, 160, 179, 181, 184, 186, 188–9, 191–2, 216, 237, 259, 261 clove 129 cobalt 123, 160, 193 coffin 209, 213 coiling, coils 68, 184 collector 3, 151–2, 158–9, 240–1, 247 colonial, precolonial, postcolonial 69, 156, 205–6, 210, 212, 237, 239, 241 Confrontation (Konfrontasi) 207 Confucian 23, 236 copper 79, 106, 123–4, 148, 157, 161 cosmetics 42 courtesan 29 cup 1, 43, 106 curd 100 cypress 153 daimyo 191, 193–4 Daoist 250 Darwin, Charles R. 155–6 date 134–5 decanter 5–6, 16 deform, deformation 8, 233, 237, 240–1, 246, 248 deities 22, 70–1, 209 Deleuze, Gilles 251 Delhi 163 demonic 43, 207, 213 Derrida, Jacques 241 ­Ding Guanpeng 159 Ding ware 20, 125 Dingling 160 distill, distillation, distillery 3, 21, 37–8, 51, 133, 188 documenta 250 domestic 63, 65, 69, 72, 106–8, 163, 181 dragon 77, 103–4, 106–8, 194, 204–10, 242

265

dream 22–4, 27, 30 Dresden 149–50, 152 drink, drinking, drinking ritual 2–3, 6, 20–1, 23–4, 29, 37–8, 41–3, 45, 48–52, 65, 94, 108, 189–91, 195, 261 Duchamp, Marcel 248 Dutch 66, 68, 78–9, 127, 152–3, 212 Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie) 78–9, 152, 155 Dvaravati culture 179 dynasties Han Dynasty 27, 48, 125, 246–7, 252 Ming Dynasty 16, 20, 67–8, 80, 95, 98, 100–1, 107–8, 148, 151, 154, 160 Qing Dynasty 25, 67, 97–8, 100, 155, 162, 244 Shang Dynasty 21 Song Dynasty 18, 20, 24, 46–7, 49, 67, 71, 97, 122, 148 Tang Dynasty 7–8, 17, 67, 97–8, 104, 106–7, 119, 121–7, 130, 132–7, 179, 183, 248, 260 Yuan Dynasty 3, 16, 18, 25, 29, 47–8, 67–8, 72, 97–104, 107 ear 7, 40, 68, 180–7, 189–196 earth 1, 39–40, 70, 152, 250, 259 earthen, earthenware 1, 39, 42, 63, 70, 73, 123, 136, 148–9, 179, 188, 248 ecological, ecology 8, 147, 155, 251 economic, economy 3, 5, 8, 13, 65, 69, 95, 121, 125, 128, 134, 158, 164, 205–7, 210, 239, 241, 262 Edwards, Arthur M. 149 egg 78, 149 Egyptian 124, 149 Emperor, see also reign periods Huizong 29 Jiajing 100, 160 Kangxi 161–2 Qianlong 161–2 Shōmu 129 Toghun Temür (or Shundi) 16 Yongzheng 163 Empress Dowager Cixi 162–3 Empress Kōmyō 129 epigraphical 42, 130

266

Index

epoxy 242 etymology 41, 148–9 Europe, European 5, 7, 19, 37, 47, 63–6, 68–9, 78–9, 95, 147–9, 152–3, 155–6, 158–60, 190, 240, 248, 260 evaporation 22 exorcism 7–8, 204, 213–4, 217, 219, 262 ­faience 124 famille rose 156 Fan Li 148 Fang Yizhi 156 farmer, farming 148, 191 feast, feasting 6, 41, 43, 190, 205, 209–10, 213 ferment, fermentation 3–4, 6, 21, 25, 37–43, 45, 47–8, 50, 52, 94, 100, 147, 195, 239, 242, 260 fertile, fertilization, fertility 63, 149–50 fetish, fetishization 215–6 figurine 71, 73–4, 127 filtering 21, 49 fire, fired, firing 17, 20, 49–50, 70, 73–4, 76–7, 98, 100, 104, 160, 184, 191, 193, 204, 216, 232, 237, 246, 259 flask 5–6, 13–19, 21–30 Fletcher Hance, Henry 156 floral 101–2, 104, 106–8, 193 flower 17–18, 20, 154–5, 162, 244 fragment, fragmentation 8, 44, 68, 76, 102, 124–8, 131, 136, 179, 189, 204, 232, 242–3, 245, 252 fragrance, fragrant 3, 28, 133, 153, 244 France, French 66, 69, 232, 240, 248 Friedl, Peter 250 fruit 38, 46–8, 134, 152–3, 162 apricot 28 bergamot 152–3, 260 fig 70 grape 21, 29, 37, 48–9, 134, 153 jujube 134 lemon 152–3 lime 153, 260 orange (tree) 152–3 pear 22, 25 persimmon 106 pineapple 153 fungus 48

Gao Lian 154 Gaoming 123 garden, gardening 7, 20, 98, 107, 152–3, 155, 250, 260 Gates, Theaster 246, 248 gender, gendering 23, 214, 239, 252 Germanic, Germany 149, 152–3 glaze 17–18, 22, 39–41, 50, 63, 67–7, 79, 95–107, 122–37, 152, 156, 159, 182–95, 205, 237, 242, 248 overglaze 156, 195 underglaze 17, 73 glue 242 gold 41, 47, 94, 128, 135, 183, 242 ­gong 210 Gong Zhu 49 Gotha 157–8 grain 20, 37–8, 47–8, 134 grass 15, 24, 28, 106, 189 gray 18–19, 43, 70, 74, 104, 127, 195 Greece, Greek 124, 134, 153 green 69, 73, 100, 102, 122–3, 126–8, 132, 136, 154, 182–6, 248–9 greenhouse 152–3 greenware 17, 69 Guangzhou 97, 106, 121–3, 128, 136 Gulland, William Giuseppi 159 gunpowder 43, 188 The Hague 156, 159–60 handle, see also ears 7, 40, 73, 104, 106, 122, 124, 259 Hanoi 122 Harrisson, Barbara 40, 43 headhunting 206, 210 heirloom 95, 106, 182, 190, 205, 207, 216–17 hemp 133 Heng, Dennis 44, 46 Hesperides, the 153 Hindu, Hinduism 39, 45, 65, 70, 77 Ho Chuimei 184 Hoi An 78, 80, 104 Holy Spirit 212, 214 homonym 250 honey 45, 47–8, 135, 185 Hong Kong 5, 43, 78–9, 156 Huang Shengceng 94, 108 Huang Yong Ping 233, 248–50

Index iconoclasm, iconoclastic 219, 233, 237, 246–7 iconography 6, 70 imitate, imitative, imitation, imitating 100, 123–5 Immortals, the Eight 22–3, 27 incised, incising, incisions 18, 68, 71, 73–4, 77, 100–1, 104–6, 130–1, 182–3, 193, 235, 237 India 44, 63, 70–1, 78, 120–1, 125, 128–9, 133, 136, 153, 155–6, 158 Indian Ocean 119, 121, 124–5, 128, 130, 134, 137 indigo 195 Indo-, Indo-Malay 43–4, 149 Indonesia 3, 6, 66, 79, 108, 119–21, 127, 135–6, 207, 212, 239 initiation ceremony 209 ink 157 intoxication 28, 38–9, 42, 49 inventory 137, 152–3, 156, 159 Islam, Islamic, pre-Islamic 37–9, 45, 119, 124, 128, 133 Iran, see also Persia 121 Iraq 119, 121, 124 iron 17–18, 97, 107, 128, 134, 186, 192 Italy 153 ­ivory 79, 135–6, 258, 261 Janowski, Monica 216 jar types dragon jar, dragon vat 95–6, 101, 103, 160, 205–10, 217, 242 jarlet 71, 73, 78, 106 moon jar 236, 240 onggi jar 195 sake jar 295 storage jar 39, 46, 96, 102, 122–4, 130, 135–6, 180–1, 183, 185, 189–93, 195 see also burial container see also flask see also urn jasmine 133 Java, see also Indonesia 6–7, 37–45, 48–9, 52, 121–2, 126, 132, 135–6 jewelry 106, 136 Jewish, Jews 121–2 jiu, see also wine and beer 6, 21–22, 24, 37–8, 44–51, 134

267

jug 20 Jung, Young-Hwa 183 jungle 210 junks 66–7, 71, 78–80 Juqu Shannong 155 Kalimantan 40, 212 Kang Ik-joong 240 kaolin 123 Kelabit 7, 204–19 kendi 73, 77 Kenya 128 Khmer empire 63–4, 66–8, 71 kilns dragon kilns 97–8, 100, 104 kilns at or known under the name of: Bang Pun 63–4, 68–71, 74, 80 Bang Rachan 63–4, 68–9, 74–80, 104, 186 Bat Trang 68 Binh Dinh 68, 73, 80, 95–6, 102–4, 107 Boh Suak 68, 72 Cay Me 102 Changsha 17, 125, 135, 183, 188 Changtai 68 Chaozhou 122–3, 125–7, 131–2, 134–7, 183 Chu Dao 68–9 Cizao 46–7, 95–6, 100–2, 104, 106–7 Cizhou 6, 13–30, 68, 101, 151, 154–5 Dagangshan 123 Dehua 68 Deqing 68 Ðủỏng Xá 185 Gaozao 97–8 ­Go Hoi 102 Go Ke 102 Go Sahn 68 Guanchong kilns 123 Guazhou, kilns near 20 Guishan 97 Houshan 100, 102 Huzaishan 100, 104 Jingdezhen 68, 105–6, 160

268

Index

Jinjiaoyi 100 Jizhou 68 Junzhou 20 Kaw Don 68, 80 Ko Noi kiln, also known as Si Satchanalai kiln 73–4, 80 Longquan 68, 80 Maenam Noi kilns (also Singburi or Bang Rachan kilns) 63–4, 68–9, 74–6, 78–80, 104, 186, 189–90 Martaban, kilns near, also known as Martavan, contemporary Mottama 68, 79–80, 186, 205 Meixian 112 Nanfengzao 97–8 Phan 68, 72 Phayao 68, 72–3 Qionglai 17 Qionglai kiln 17 Qishi 97 San Kamphaeng 68, 72, 80 San Sai 68, 72 Shigaraki 191–3 Shiwan 68, 95–9, 104, 106–7 Si Satchanalai (Sawankhalok) 63–4, 68–9, 72–7, 80, 104, 107, 186 Singburi 63, 66, 75–6, 80, 186 Sukhotai 66, 73 Suphanburi 63, 66, 70–1, 76, 195 Than-Hoa 40 Tongguan kilns, near Changsha 17 Truong Cuu 102 Tu Long 168 Tuần Châu 184–5 Twante 68 Wang Nua 68, 72 Wentouling kiln 97 Wiang Bua 68, 72 Xinhui 182–3, 123 Xushan 100 Yixing 68, 101, 154–5, 161 Yizhen 20 Zhangzhou 68 Kilwa 119, 128 ­kings August II the Strong 152, 260 Ayutthaya 63 Boromarachathirat I 76 Borommatrilokanath 86 Frederick William I 152

Jayapangus 42 Ludwig II of Bavaria 153 Nakharindrathirat 76 Ramathibodi 65 Samaratungga 126 Wang Yanjun 127 kingdoms Angkor kingdom 41, 43–4, 47, 64, 71, 195 Anuradhapura kingdom 125–6 Ayutthaya kingdom 63–9, 72–3, 76, 78–9 Champa kingdom 64, 67–8, 72–3, 80, 94, 102, 107, 121 Dai Viet kingdom 64, 67–8, 72–3, 80 Lan Xang kingdom 66–7 Min kingdom 127 Vijara kingdom 107 Koo Bohn-chang 240 Korea, Korean 3, 5, 8, 128–9, 158, 183, 195, 232–44, 248, 252 Kuching 207, 214 Kyoto 129, 188, 191, 194 lalud (life force) 209, 213, 216 lamp 73, 127, 133, 160 Lanna 64–9, 72–4, 76 Laos 3, 66 laurel 153 Lee Seung-taek 233–41, 246, 252 Lee Young Jae 240 Leeuwarden 120, 127, 130 Lennon, John 242 Li Shishi 29 lid, see also stopper 41, 179–81, 185, 190 lime 49–50, 73, 123, 181 literati 148, 151, 154, 156–7, 243 Liquor, see also jiu 4, 21, 39, 41, 50–2, 188 Liu Cheng 123 Liu Hua 127, 133 lotus 151–2 Louise Dorothea von Sachsen-GothaAltenburg, Duchess 157 lug, see also handle and ears 104, 106, 122 mace 126 machete 210 Majiayao culture 149 makara 77 Malaysia, Malaysian 3, 66, 68, 78–9, 207, 217, 219, 239

Index ­malting 47–9 Man Ray 238 Manchu 151–2, 161, 163 Manila 78 Mantai 125–6 Martini, Martino 155 Mawangdui 21 Mayers, William S. Frederick 156 meat 25, 250 medicinal, medicine 2, 155–6, 187, 250, 258 Mediterranean 119, 134, 153, 261 Meitao 98, 107 merchant 3, 44, 49, 63, 65, 69, 79, 95, 102, 107, 119, 121–2, 125–8, 130, 134–7, 159, 186, 189, 191, 243 mercury, mercury jars, see also quicksilver 38, 43–51, 100 metaphor, metaphorical 1, 239, 243 Middle East, Middle Eastern 5, 7, 119–20, 123, 125–7, 129–37 Miksic, John 45–7 mineral 1, 18, 30 Mingei 237, 239 Miri 207, 214 mission, missionary 63, 207, 211–12 Moluccas, the 126 Mongol, Mongolia 1, 16 monochrome 68, 73, 248 mortar 73, 76–7 mosque 125, 131 mountain Cardamom Mountain 75, 77 Mount Murud 214 mountains, sacred 248 prayer mountain 214 White Mountain 26 mouth, narrow-mouthed, wide-mouthed 21–2, 43–4, 50, 70, 74, 77, 98, 100, 181, 185, 189, 191 Mozambique 78 multiplication 243 musical instrument 157 musket 188 mutation 243 Myanmar (Burma) 3, 64–7, 72, 79, 153, 186, 205 myrrh 134 mythical 52, 209, 214

269

Nanjing 19–20 Nara 129 neck 14, 40–1, 70, 74, 77, 98, 104, 124, 181, 185–6, 191–2, 260 necropolis, see also Astana 133 Neolithic 149, 247 ­Nestorian Christians 121 Netherlands, see also Dutch 79, 120, 127, 130 Nonomura Ninsei 194–5 nutmeg 126 oasis 133 Oceania 212 officials 47, 123, 162 church official 214 court official 20 Ming official 27 official envoy 121 scholar-official 27 oil 43, 127, 130–3, 160, 261 Oka Yoshiko 194 Ono, Yoko 242 Opium War, the Second 163 orange (color) 104, 191 orange tree 152–3 orangerie 152–3 ornament, ornamentation 17, 73–4, 108, 124, 158, 190, 194–5, 260 oxide 18 Pahlavi script 131, 136 painting, paintings 17–18, 22, 24, 29, 46, 68, 153, 155, 157–9, 162–3, 193, 195, 233–4, 240, 247 palace 20, 47, 69, 71, 124, 129, 148, 152, 160, 163, 191, 240 palace garden 7, 260 Palace Museum 5, 19 Prasat (castle/temple/palace) 71 Palembang 126 palm, see also palm wine see wine 134, 241 paper 18, 157, 181, 189 paradise 250 park, see also palace garden 152, 162, 245 Park, Chung-hee 239 pasteurize, pasteurisation 6, 21, 38, 49–51 Pearl River 123 pearls 135

270

Index

Pennant, Thomas 149 pepper 187 perfume, perfumed oil 43, 132–3 Persia, Persian, see also Iran 63, 119–31, 133–7 Pescadores Islands 43 Petiver, James 155 Phags-pa script 29 Philippines, the 68, 78–9, 106–7, 127, 261 phoenix 95–6, 101, 106, 156, 194 photograph 162, 238, 240, 247 pickle, pickled 40, 136 pillow, ceramic 21–2 ­pirate 95, 122 Pitelka, Morgan 191 plantation 189, 193 planter, see also cachepot 7–8, 152, 260 planting 148, 151, 153 plants 18, 133, 152–3, 155–6, 260 plate 1, 74, 106 plow, plowing, Royal Plowing Ceremony 70–1 poet 24, 27, 123, 239 poetic 189, 233, 244, 246 poetics 232 poetry 29, 189, 239 Portugal, Portuguese 66, 68, 78, 153, 155, 188 potter 66, 76, 98 potter’s mark 185 pottery workshop 106, 123, 159, 185–6, 191–2, 194–5, 237 pregnancy, pregnant 6, 37, 42, 52, 232, 239 preservation 5, 13, 39, 49, 65, 78, 125, 129–30, 137, 150, 188, 212–14, 219, 239, 245 private trade 95, 102 prostitutes 42 prototype 3, 181, 185 provinces Anhui 17 Ayutthaya 66 Binh Dinh 102, 107 Chainat 76 Fujian 43, 46–9, 51, 95–6, 100, 102, 106–7, 122, 127, 133, 135, 185, 208 Guangdong 97, 101, 119, 122–3, 182–4, 208 Gansu 149

Hebei 16–19 Henan 16–18, 20–1, 46, 183 Hunan 17, 40, 151, 154 Jiangsu 127 Lopburi 71 Quang Nam 104 Shaanxi 17 Shandong 16–18 Shanxi 16–18 Sichuan 17, 27 Singburi 66, 76, 186 southern provinces 19, 124 Sukhothai 63, 66, 71, 74 Suphan Buri 63, 66, 70 Thanh-Hoa 40 Zhejiang 127 Quanzhou 43, 46–7, 100–1, 107, 122 Queen Liu Hua 133 ­Queen Victoria 158, 163 quicksilver, see also mercury 38 Rāma 40–1 Rāmāyaṇa, tale of Rāma 38, 40, 70 rare earth 1 recycling, reuse 1, 7–8, 43, 46, 95, 102, 107, 137, 154, 188, 193 red 16, 42, 48–9, 51, 74, 77, 104, 187, 190–1 reign periods Asuka period 128 Ayutthaya period 76, 186 Goryeo period 183 Hongwu reign period 102, 160 Jiajing reign period 78–9, 100–1, 105, 160 Jiayou era 97 Kangxi, reign period 148, 161, 163 Longqing, reign period 87–9 Wanli, reign period 78, 79, 101, 105 Yule, reign period 10 Zhenghe era 97 religions Brahmā, Brahmans, Brahmanism 41, 70 Buddha, Buddhist, Buddhism 65, 70, 74, 125–6, 128–30, 237 Mahayana Buddhism 70, 126 Theravada (Hinayana) Buddhism 70 Vajrayana Buddhism 126

Index Christian 7–8, 204, 207–8, 210–16, 219 Christian church (Sidang Injil Borneo/ Borneo Evangelical Assembly/ SIB) 207 Christianity 7, 207, 209–10, 212 Manichaeans, Manichaeism 121, 127, 130, 134 Pentecostal, Pentecostalism 208, 212–14, 219 see also temple replica, replicate 123, 182, 184, 188, 193, 194, 247 reuse, see recycling ribbon 124 ritual 3, 37–41, 50, 52, 65, 74–5, 208–10, 213–14, 216, 240–1, 249 rivers Chao Phraya River 63, 66 Euphrates 123 Han River 122–3 Pearl River 123 Red River 184, 188 Tigris 124 Yangzi 128 Robbins, Joel 207–8, 213, 219 Roman 124, 134 rose water 43 Royer, Jean Theodore 156–7, 159 Rubies, Island of 125 Ryūkyū Islands 158, 188 ­saccharification 38–9, 48 saggar 97–100, 103–4 Sailendra 126 Sakai 188 sake, see wine Samarkand 45 Samarra 124–5 sand 148 Sarawak, Sarawakians 44, 205, 212, 217 Sasanian, Sasanians 121, 123, 125, 129 satanic 213 sauce 40, 46, 181, 193 Schottenhammer, Angela 128 Sculptural, sculpture 71, 232–5, 237–8, 240–6, 250–1 sediment 51 sedimentation 179 sesame 132–3 Shantou (also Swatow) 101, 105

271

Shaoguan 123 shard 47, 78, 122, 126, 128–9, 136, 241–3, 245, 248 shell 123, 128, 252 Shin Mee-kyoung 233, 241, 244 shipwrecks, general 5, 68–9, 73, 77, 78–80, 95–6, 119, 134, 136, 195, 261 shipwrecks, map 96 Belitung (also Batu Hitam) Shipwreck 131, 135, 183–4 Brunei Shipwreck 78 Cham Island (also Cu Lao Cham) Shipwreck 104, 107, 188 Chau Tan Shipwreck 136 Cirebon (also Nan Han) shipwreck 135 Cu Lao Cham (also Cham Island) Shipwreck 104, 107, 188 Dinghai Bay Shipwreck 43 European merchant shipwreck 69 European shipwrecks 78 Hoi An Shipwreck 78 Intan Shipwreck 134 Java Sea Shipwreck 185 Khram Shipwreck 71 Klang Aow Shipwreck 78 Ko Khram Shipwreck 71, 78 Koh S’deck Shipwreck 187 Kra (also Ko Kra) Shipwreck 78 Kradat Shipwreck 78 Lena Shoal Shipwreck 78 Lingga Shipwreck 43–4 Longquan Shipwreck 71 Manila Shipwreck (also Manila galleon) 78 Maranai (also Bakau) Shipwreck 71, 75 Nan’ao (also Nan’ao I) Shipwreck 101, 105, 107 Nan Han (also Cirebon) Shipwreck 134–5 ­Nanyang Shipwreck Shipwreck 75, 78 Okinawa and Kyushu Islands Shipwreck 78 Phanom Surin Shipwreck 131, 136, 179–84 Phu Quoc or Dam Island Shipwreck 71 Quanzhou Bay Shipwreck 43 Rang Kwien (also Ko Rang Kwien) Shipwreck 71, 75 Risdam Shipwreck 68 Samui or Ko Samui Shipwreck 78

272 San Diego Shipwreck 78 Shazhou Island Shipwreck 102, 104 Si Chang II (also Ko Si Chang II) Shipwreck 71, 78 Sihan Shipwreck 185 Singtai 78 South China Sea Shipwreck 67–9, 71 Wanli Shipwreck 68, 78 shogunate 193 shoulder 14, 24, 26, 40, 68, 70–1, 74, 77, 79, 97, 101, 104, 106, 122, 124, 130, 159, 179, 181–6, 189, 191–3, 195, 259–60 Siam 63–80, 158, 261 silk 18, 119, 121, 134, 189 Silk Road 5, 129, 133–4, 244 Maritime Silk Road 121, 135 silver 94, 183 Sima Xiangru 27 Singapore 43–4, 47, 79 Śiva 45 skin 128, 134, 246 skull 258, 260–1 snake 249–50, 258 soap 244–6, 252 Sogdian 134 South China Sea 67–9, 71, 78–80, 119, 122, 124, 128 Spanish 66, 68, 78 spice 126, 135–6 Spice Islands, see Moluccas spiral 27, 124 spirit (drink), see also alcohol 49 spirit, spirit-beings, spirituality 7, 39, 45, 204–19, 240, 262 spiritual 3, 204–19 spittoon 73 spout, spouted 41, 73, 122, 183, 260 Sri Lanka 63, 119–21, 124–6 Sri Vijaya 126, 136 status 65, 162, 182, 236, 245 social status 30, 205, 210 status signifier 210 steam, steamed, steaming, steamer 48–50 stopper, see also lid 50, 179–81, 159–60 storage, storing 2, 5, 21, 39–40, 44, 46, 96, 102, 106, 120, 122–4, 130, 135–6, 180–3, 185, 188–95, 217, 242, 260–1 straw 41, 94, 108

Index stupa 74, 126 Su Shi 24 subversion, subversive 5, 232, 235, 248, 252 sugar 39, 48, 100 sugar cane 38 sugar cane wine, see wine Sumatra, see also Indonesia 43, 49, 121–2, 126, 135, 183, 148 Sun Hu 159 Swatow, see Shantou syrup 135 Tanukhi 132 Tanzania 119 tavern 22–3, 27 Tay Son county 102 tea 3–4, 100, 189–95, 260 tea ceremony 4, 7–8, 130, 189–95, 260 tea box 157 tea pot 155 tea-leaf storage jar 181, 183, 189–95 temperature 70, 73, 97–8, 184 temple, temple complex Borobodur temple 126 Brahmā temple 41 Buddhist temple 65, 74, 126 Japanese temples 189 Loro Jongrang temple complex Phra Phai Luang temple 74 Prasat (castle/temple/palace) 71 Saidaiji Great Western temple 129 Southeast Asian temples 68 temple buildings 69 Tōdaiji temple 129 tied sculpture (mukkum chogak), see also binding 234–41, 252 timber, see also wood 128 tin 123 tobacco 159, 210, 258–61 Tōkaidō highway 193 Tokugawa government 191–2 tomb 19–21, 46, 98, 107, 123, 127, 133, 160, 184, 194 transculturality, transcultural objects 1, 3–5, 7–8, 66, 95, 106, 147, 260 transform, transformative, transformation 3–8, 13, 17, 21, 24, 30, 37, 52, 67, 106, 147, 151, 155, 164, 205, 208, 213, 232–3, 235, 237, 241, 243, 245, 258–62

Index tribal, tribe 8, 106, 108, 210, 218 tributary system, tribute 63, 65, 67, 94–5, 10–18, 161–2 Tu Long 168 turquoise 123–4, 126–9, 133–7, 248 Twomey, Clare 246, 248 ­Uji 193 underglaze, see glaze Unknown Fields Division 1 urine 215 urn 2, 65, 77, 246–8, 252 van der Groen, Jan 153 vine scroll 193 vinegar 100 visions 204, 213–14 vital materialism 234 Wajid Ali Shah 163 Walpole, Horace 149 Wang Dayuan 44 Wang Qi 168 Wang Shimao 160 Wang Siyi 168 Wang Xiangjin 168 warrior 189, 191, 193 water 30, 39, 43, 46–7, 50, 65, 71, 73, 79, 94, 100, 127, 133–6, 149, 151, 160, 179, 183, 195, 248–9, 159–61 water dropper 73 water, sacred 65, 71, 249, 261 wax 49 weight 16, 78, 182–3, 187, 189 wells 98, 248, 250 Wen Zhenheng 151, 154 white, see also baekja (white porcelain); black-and-white; blue-andwhite 14, 21–2, 24, 26, 73, 123, 151, 154, 186

273

white cube 245, 251 Whitehouse, David 132 wine, see also jiu 16–17, 20–30, 37–52, 94–5, 100, 133–4, 136, 259, 261 palm wine 38–9, 45, 52 red wine 48–9, 51 rice wine 25, 37, 44, 49, 52, 205, 209 sake 48, 195 snake wine 250 sugar cane wine 41, 45 Wollaston Franks, Sir Augustus 158 Wong, Wai-yee Sharon 46–7, 183, 261 wood, wooden 16, 50, 98, 122, 124, 159, 180–1, 187, 189, 204, 209, 213, 258, 261 World War II 207, 212 wreck, see shipwreck Wu Luo 101 Xiang Yuanbian 155 Xing ware 125 Yanagi Sōetsu 237, 239 Yangzhou 122, 127 Yao Yuanzhi 151 yeasts 39, 48 ­Yeesookyung 233, 241 yellow 21, 77, 96–7, 100–7, 162, 183–4, 186, 193–4 Yuanming Yuan 163 Yue ware 125 Zhang Qiande 149, 154, 168 Zhang Xie 94, 108 Zhou Daguan 44 Zhou Kun 159 Zhuo Wenjun 27 Zoroastrian, Zoroastrianism 121, 127­

274

275

276

277

278

Plate 1  Map showing the locations of key shipwreck, kiln, and cultural sites throughout Southeast Asia. Adapted from Brown, The Ming Gap. Copyright: Atthasit Sukkham.

Plate 2  Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Phnom Dangrek (Bang Kruat or Buriram), H. 44 cm [left], unglazed jars from Bang Pun, H. 38.1 cm [center], and Early Si Satchanalai, H. 40.7 cm [right]. Copyright: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University.

Plate 3  Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai, H. 43.3 cm [left], Bang Rachan, H. 59 cm [center], and Martaban, H. 40.4 cm [right]. Copyright: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University.

Plate 4  Comparison between brown-glazed jars from Middle Si Satchanalai, H. 62.5 cm [left] and Bang Rachan, H. 64.5 cm [right]. Copyright: Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum, Bangkok University.

Plate 5  Brown-glazed jars and kiln furniture from Shiwan, Guangdong, South China. Photo: Sharon Wong. A. Brown-glazed jar with Panzhai (“潘宅”) stamped on the shoulder, Qishi Kiln, eleventh to twelfth century. B. Brown-glazed jar found at the Meitao Garden site, ca. fifteenth to sixteenth century. C. Stacking ring, flat disk-shaped and irregular-shaped clay wads. D. Cylindrical saggar base fragment. E. Basin-shaped saggar, Foshan Shiwan Kiln, eleventh to twelfth century. A–B. Courtesy of Foshan Museum and Guangdong Shiwan Ceramic Museum. Photo: Sharon Wong; C–E. Guangdong Provincial Museum 1979, 145–6.

Plate 6  Jars and kiln furniture from Cizao Kiln, Fujian, South China, twelfth to fourteenth century. Photo: Sharon Wong. A. Brownish-green-glazed jar sherds from Xushan. B–C. Brown-glazed jar sherds with vertical thumb-pressed lug handle or horizontal loop handle from Huzaishan. D–G. Cylindrical support, stacking ring, disk-shaped separator, and tubular support from Jinjiaoyi. A–C, E–G. Fujian Museum and Jinjiang Museum, 2011, pls. 28, 10, 111; D. Courtesy of Jinjiang Museum. Photo: Sharon Wong.

Plate 7  Jars and kiln Furniture from Truong Cuu, Binh Dinh Kiln, Central Vietnam, ca. fourteenth to fifteenth century. Photo: Sharon Wong. A. Yellowish-brown jar with four horizontal lugs. B. Jar sherds with vertical thumb-pressed lug handles. C. Jar sherds with appliqué dragon. D–E. Cylindrical saggars and stacking rings each with five spur marks. Courtesy of Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences. Photo: Sharon Wong.

Plate 8  Jars found at shipwrecks in Fujian, Guangdong, and Vietnam. Photo: Sharon Wong. A–C. Jar sherds found at Shazhou Island Shipwreck, Zhangpu, Fujian, fourteenth to fifteenth century. D–E. Brown-glazed jars with appliqué phoenix and floral design from Nan’ao I Shipwreck, Shantou, Guangdong, ca. sixteenth to seventeenth century. F. Brownish-yellow-glazed jar with four lugs from Cu Lao Cham Shipwreck, Quang Nam, Vietnam, ca. late fifteenth to sixteenth century. A–C. Center for Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage et al. 2017, 306; D–E. Courtesy of Guangdong Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics & Archaeology; F. Vietnam National History Museum. Photo: Sharon Wong.

Plate 9  Storage jar, Iraq, probably Basra, eighth to ninth century. Ashmolean Museum, EA2005.85. Copyright: Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

Plate 10  Sherds made of stoneware, earthenware, and porcelain, tenth to fourteenth century, pale green porcelain pieces: China, dark green and blue pieces: Persian Gulf, brown unglazed pieces: East Africa, found in Kilwa Kisiwani, L. 3–16 cm. The British Museum OA+.916. Copyright: The Trustees of the British Museum.

Plate 11  Jar with inscription. China, eighth to ninth century. Probably Chaozhou Kilns, Guangdong Province. H. 39 cm. Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics, OKS 1981-92 (on loan from the Ottema Kingma Foundation). Photo: Aafke Koole. Copyright: Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics.

Plate 12  Jar with inscription. Inscription: probably yag “oil” in Manichaean script. H. 64 cm. China, ninth to tenth century. Probably Chaozhou Kilns, Guangdong Province. Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics, GMP 1981-056. Photo: Aafke Koole. Copyright: Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics.

Plate 13  Fishbowl, porcelain, underglaze blue, Kangxi period, Qing Dynasty, H. 51.6 cm, Diam. 59 cm, Diam. footring 34 cm, Staatliche Kunstsammlung Dresden, Porzellansammlung, Inv. no. PO 6021. Photo: Adrian Sauer. Copyright: bpk/ Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden/Adrian Sauer.

Plate 14  Fishbowl, porcelain with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty, H. 39.5 cm, Diam. mouth 60.2 cm, Diam. foot 36 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Inv. no. AK-NM-6466.

Plate 15  Fishbowl, copper ware with painted enamel decoration, Qianlong period, Qing Dynasty, H. 18.5 cm, Diam. mouth 17 cm, Diam. foot 16.7 cm, National Palace Museum, Taipei, Inv. no. 故琺000383N000000000. Copyright: National Palace Museum.

Plate 16  Container jar with four horizontal lugs, used in Japan for tea-leaf storage and named Chigusa. China, Guangdong Province. Southern Song or Yuan Dynasty, mid-thirteenth to mid-fourteenth century. Stoneware with iron glaze, 41.6 × 36.6 cm (16 3/8 × 14 7/16 in). Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, Purchase— Charles Lang Freer Endowment, F2016.20.1. Copyright: Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Plate 17  Container jar with four horizontal lugs. Thailand, Singburi Province, Maenam Noi kilns. Ayutthaya period, fifteenth to seventeenth century. Stoneware with iron glaze, 51.5 × 41 cm (20 1/4 × 16 1/8 in). Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Osborne. Copyright: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution.

Plate 18  Tea-leaf storage jar, named Chigusa, adorned for display in a tea room with silk brocade mouth cover and knotted silk cords. China, Guangdong Province. Southern Song or Yuan Dynasty, mid-thirteenth to mid-fourteenth century. Stoneware with iron glaze, 41.6 × 36.6 cm (16 3/8 × 14 7/16 in). Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution, Purchase—Charles Lang Freer Endowment, F2016.20.1. Copyright: Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Plate 19  Shigaraki ware official tea jar. Japan, Shiga prefecture, Shigaraki, Nagano kilns. Edo period, 1800–68. Stoneware with iron, ash, and white glazes, 38 × 33 cm (15 in × 13 in diam.). Portland Art Museum, Museum Purchase: Margery Hoffman Smith Fund, with additional funds provided by the Autzen Foundation, Asian Art Council, and Women’s Council, 81.97.9. Copyright: Portland Art Museum.

P ­ late 20  Jar with design of mynah birds, by Nonomura Ninsei (active ca. 1646–77). Japan, Kyoto, Edo period, 1670s. Stoneware with colored and silver enamels over white glaze, 30.5 × 24.1 cm (12 × 9½ in). Asia Society and Museum, New York. Copyright: Asia Society and Museum.

Plate 21  Dragon jar burials at the now abandoned burial ground of Menatoh Rayeh Pa’ Bangar. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

Plate 22  Kelabit man with his family heirloom jar. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

Plate 23  SIB church service in Bario. Photo: Valerie Mashman. Copyright: Valerie Mashman.

Plate 24  Kelabit lady displaying her family heirlooms at her homestay. Copyright: Borbala Nyiri.

Plate 25  Lee Seung-taek, Tied White Porcelain, 1975, porcelain, 18 × 30 × 20 cm. Private collection. Copyright: Lee Seung-taek and Gallery Hyundai.

Plate 26  Yeesookyung, Translated Vase—Nine Dragons in Wonderland, 2017. Ceramic shards, stainless steel, aluminum bars, epoxy, gold leaf, 492 × 200 × 190 cm. Copyright: Archivio Storico della Biennale di Venezia—ASAC. Photo: Andrea Avezzù.

Plate 27  Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 152.4 × 67.3 cm (60 × 26½ in). Copyright: The Archives of Huang Yong Ping. Courtesy of The Archives of Huang Yong Ping and Gladstone Gallery.

Plate 28  Huang Yong Ping, Well, 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 129.5 × 59.7 cm (51 × 23½ in). Copyright: The Archives of Huang Yong Ping. Courtesy of The Archives of Huang Yong Ping and Gladstone Gallery.

Plate 29  Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 152.4 × 67.3 cm (60 × 26½ in). Copyright: The Archives of Huang Yong Ping. Courtesy of The Archives of Huang Yong Ping and Gladstone Gallery.

Plate 30  Huang Yong Ping, Well (detail), 2007, ceramic and taxidermy, 129.5 × 59.7 cm (51 × 23½ in). Copyright: The Archives of Huang Yong Ping. Courtesy of The Archives of Huang Yong Ping and Gladstone Gallery.

Plate 31  Anonymous artist, Snake Charmer, second half of nineteenth century, watercolor on pith paper, 17.7 × 10 cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Bequest of Mrs. Winifred Bell, 1937, accession number 1937-45-1qq.

Plate 32  Tobacco jar, made from carved boxwood, with an ivory carved snake. Eighteenth century, Japan. Science and Society Picture Library, Science Museum Group, London. Copyright: Science Museum Group.