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LIKE many successful businesspeople, Chen Jufeng, general manager of a tea company in Zhengzhou, Henan Province, finds the best expression of his wealth and taste in antique collecting. With eight years and hundreds of thousands of Yuan spent on his collection, he has acquired confidence in his discernment. Recently Chen Jufeng purchased, for approximately RMB 80,000, a white porcelain goblet featuring a double-dragon design that he believed to be from the Tang Dynasty (618-907). Ecstatic about his latest trophy, he invited his old friend Chen Jingshun, deputy chair of the Ceramics Subcommittee of the province’s Antique Collectors’ Association, to take a look. It was then that the collector’s shine for these treasures began to lose its luster.
After a period of careful vetting under a magnifying glass, the connoisseur was convinced that the piece was indeed a forgery. Frustrated but somewhat skeptical, Chen Jufeng showed his expert friend another of his favorite pieces from his collection: a plate purported to be from the legendary Ru Kiln of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127). The mesh of scars from mending indicates that it had been a reassembly of broken shards, a quality not undesirable for this highly rare class of curios, it instead adds a certain dash of credibility to a piece’s authenticity. Its blue glaze has since lost its sheen, understandably for its reported age. The entrepreneur cherished the piece so much that he had planned to pass it down to his children as a family heirloom.
But once again he heard the dreaded words slip from his friend’s mouth thatsank his heart: bogus. Scrutinizing the plate up and down, and comparing it to the other Ru kiln wares in his possession, Chen Jingshun said firmly: “This is absolutely a fake. Its maker purposely smashed it and then repaired it, a tactic used to hoodwink buyers.”
In recent years the public’s zeal for vintage porcelains has been swelling, and their prices continue to soar sky high at auction houses around the world. This gives rise to the art reproduction business, forever nimble when it comes to the development of new techniques. Some master hands in the field can produce works that may fool even the most experienced eyes. Emboldened by the precision of forgery technology andlured by exorbitant profits, some people in the trade dare to cross the legal line by selling pastiches disguised as originals. There is nothing illegal about producing or buying reproductions; what is wrong is passing them off as authentic.
A Myriad of Copycat Workshops
Henan Province is the geographical heart of several important historical dynasties, and is teeming with archeological treasures both above and below ground. Its early residents were known for their high aptitude in arts and crafts, and their work often graced the homes of emperors and magnates. Today their scions are resuming the trade, but mainly through supplying those who have a love for antiques but not the wherewithal to afford the genuine article.
There are three reproduction hubs based in the region – Nanshishan Village in Luoyang City, Shenhou Town in Yuzhou City, and Zhenping County in Nanyang City. The first specializes in the imitation of Tang Sancai, tri-colored glazed pottery of the Tang Dynasty, the second focuses on porcelains, and the third is adept at replicating old jade items.
Their workers are all local farmers, who usually use their own homes as a workshop. One can hardly believe that such elaborate works of arts could come out of these farmers’ hands, but a personalvisit to their workplaces, often in their backyards, confirms it.
In Shenhou Town, almost all of the cottages are stacked with chinaware of varying shapes and patterns, modeled on favorites from past “dynasties,” and giving visitors the illusion of being in a museum. What looks like a Jun Kiln urn of the Song Dynasty, that, if genuine, would fetch millions of dollars in the market, is priced at merely RMB 200 to 300 here. From time to time, a worker might pull one of his works, all finely molded and glazed, under himself to use as a makeshift stool.
For outsiders it is almost impossible to tell the old from the new. Many of the pieces are caked with mud, suggesting years underground. A workshop owner surnamed Zhang said: “We stoke our kilns with coal, just as our ancestors did.” Toward the rear of her yard is where the processing, or archaizing, takes place. A worker in his 30s was toiling away there roughing up a candlestick’s rim with an iron bar, to give it a used look. At his feet lay three rows of candlehsticks ready for market. Another man nearby sports rubber gloves to dip two black-and-white jars into a bucket of sludge, also to achieve that antiquated effect.
Even archeologists have to admit that these rural workshops are astonishingly accomplished in their simulation techniques. This capacity to lend goods a past charm may cause frustration for both curio dealers and buyers, but on the bright side it has turned into a blessing for museums whose ancient exhibits require such delicate restoration skills.
“This is from the past,” a villager picked up a pot from a pile of similar ones. “But many of my customers simply mistake it for a botched reproduction. It actually remains just as it was when first unearthed.” He scoffed the conceit of some people who believe they can determine the age of a porcelain piece with just a glance.
There are over 20 art reproduction factories of scale in Shenhou Town, with countless other small family workshops all enjoying a brisk business.
The Science of
Reproduction
However, these farmer artisans from Henan are miles from the hot centers of modern art reproduction technologies; the real grandmasters are people in well-appointed labs, versed in both the art and the science of replication. One of them is Ma Jukui, an artist from Henan who heads the Ru Kiln Porcelain Research Institute of Baofeng County.
The Ru Kiln of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127) represents the zenith of Chinese porcelain technique. Its products, distinguished for their celadon vitreous glaze and irregular veins, were prized by generations of emperors, but few had been preserved. The kiln operated for merely two decades, and the output was small. It is estimated that there are no more than 65 pieces of Ru porcelain left around the world. Even a shard of the size of nail can fetch more than RMB 1,000 today.
After decades of study and experimentation, Ma Jukui eventually managed to recreate the lost art of the Ru Kiln. “The process consists of a dozen steps, from building the right kiln, to finding the perfect temperature to set the clay and pigments,” said Ma. “A successful reproduction must precisely take on all the hallmarks of the Ru porcelain. Missing a single one means complete failure.”
Experts from the Palace Museum have confirmed that Ma’s works are the closest to original Ru wares. “Nobody but the top mavens can tell if they are genuine or not. These are people who have extensively studied the Ru Kiln,” the artist bragged.
Gao Shuiwang, president of Luoyang Nine-Dynasty Cultural Relic Replicas Co., Ltd., is a champion Tang pottery duplicator. In the company’s plant every product is still made by hand exactly the way it was done 1,000 years ago. “Tang pottery was made of kaoline, as is ours. And we follow the same firing techniques,” Mr. Gao said.
He took a fragment of a genuine Tang Sancai and a replica in either hand, and held them to the light. The two appear no different in their texture, hues of glaze or their level of abrasion.
In one corner of his workshop white ceramic goblets in a double-dragon design are piled up in a row; these cost tea manager Chen Jufeng tens of thousands of Yuan.
Mr. Gao said that the success of replication lies largely in how well to make the new to look aged. Several large mounds of earth of slightly different colors lie in the yard of his factory. “Relics were from different areas, where the soils differ,” he explained. He poked open one mound to expose a vessel that had been buried there for three years. “When ancient tombs are excavated, I will send people to collect samples of the soil. Our products are then covered up for long periods underground for the dirt to solidly adhere to them. This is done with the assistance of chemicals. When retrieved, they will possess an air of antiquity.”
Cracks on the Surface
Chen Jingshun keeps a showroom of ancient ceramics. The exhibits were ferreted from the ruins of kilns across Henan over the course of 30 years, and are meant to offer some reference for collectors in verifying their purchases. In recent years Mr. Chen has noticed a declining interest in Henan relics. “The discernment of collectors cannot grow as fast as upgrades in counterfeiting techniques,” said Chen Jingshun.
Lack of strict industrial standards or effective market supervision has therefore resulted in a decline in prices and reputation. When replicas are passed off as genuine antiques, the market is disturbed, causing huge losses to collectors.
In the 1980s and early 1990s Tang Sancai copies were sent by Chinese government to foreign state leaders as gifts. Soon a kind of fetish developed for the pottery across the nation. During its peak period there were more than 3,000 factories, mostly tiny and shabby, sprinkled around Luoyang City, cradle of the craft. They churned out shoddy Tang Sancai by the millions, and undercut each other in a chaotic price war. With a glut in the market, many of their products ended up being hawked by street vendors, demeaning a treasure of Chinese art into a bargain item.
Currently there is wide concern over the resurgence of Henan porcelains, and it is well founded. “Collectors are mournful and fearful of Tang Sancai, Ru and Jun porcelains originating from Henan,” said Chen Jingshun. “The reproductions can be spectacular, revealing no clue as to what is real and what is a sham. The result is that even if sellers come up with a genuine piece, buyers won’t bother to take a serious look. The interest in these wares has vanished, due to the unfortunate overabundance of fakes.”
MENG QINGHAI and ZHOU YIXIANG are CCTV reporters.
After a period of careful vetting under a magnifying glass, the connoisseur was convinced that the piece was indeed a forgery. Frustrated but somewhat skeptical, Chen Jufeng showed his expert friend another of his favorite pieces from his collection: a plate purported to be from the legendary Ru Kiln of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127). The mesh of scars from mending indicates that it had been a reassembly of broken shards, a quality not undesirable for this highly rare class of curios, it instead adds a certain dash of credibility to a piece’s authenticity. Its blue glaze has since lost its sheen, understandably for its reported age. The entrepreneur cherished the piece so much that he had planned to pass it down to his children as a family heirloom.
But once again he heard the dreaded words slip from his friend’s mouth thatsank his heart: bogus. Scrutinizing the plate up and down, and comparing it to the other Ru kiln wares in his possession, Chen Jingshun said firmly: “This is absolutely a fake. Its maker purposely smashed it and then repaired it, a tactic used to hoodwink buyers.”
In recent years the public’s zeal for vintage porcelains has been swelling, and their prices continue to soar sky high at auction houses around the world. This gives rise to the art reproduction business, forever nimble when it comes to the development of new techniques. Some master hands in the field can produce works that may fool even the most experienced eyes. Emboldened by the precision of forgery technology andlured by exorbitant profits, some people in the trade dare to cross the legal line by selling pastiches disguised as originals. There is nothing illegal about producing or buying reproductions; what is wrong is passing them off as authentic.
A Myriad of Copycat Workshops
Henan Province is the geographical heart of several important historical dynasties, and is teeming with archeological treasures both above and below ground. Its early residents were known for their high aptitude in arts and crafts, and their work often graced the homes of emperors and magnates. Today their scions are resuming the trade, but mainly through supplying those who have a love for antiques but not the wherewithal to afford the genuine article.
There are three reproduction hubs based in the region – Nanshishan Village in Luoyang City, Shenhou Town in Yuzhou City, and Zhenping County in Nanyang City. The first specializes in the imitation of Tang Sancai, tri-colored glazed pottery of the Tang Dynasty, the second focuses on porcelains, and the third is adept at replicating old jade items.
Their workers are all local farmers, who usually use their own homes as a workshop. One can hardly believe that such elaborate works of arts could come out of these farmers’ hands, but a personalvisit to their workplaces, often in their backyards, confirms it.
In Shenhou Town, almost all of the cottages are stacked with chinaware of varying shapes and patterns, modeled on favorites from past “dynasties,” and giving visitors the illusion of being in a museum. What looks like a Jun Kiln urn of the Song Dynasty, that, if genuine, would fetch millions of dollars in the market, is priced at merely RMB 200 to 300 here. From time to time, a worker might pull one of his works, all finely molded and glazed, under himself to use as a makeshift stool.
For outsiders it is almost impossible to tell the old from the new. Many of the pieces are caked with mud, suggesting years underground. A workshop owner surnamed Zhang said: “We stoke our kilns with coal, just as our ancestors did.” Toward the rear of her yard is where the processing, or archaizing, takes place. A worker in his 30s was toiling away there roughing up a candlestick’s rim with an iron bar, to give it a used look. At his feet lay three rows of candlehsticks ready for market. Another man nearby sports rubber gloves to dip two black-and-white jars into a bucket of sludge, also to achieve that antiquated effect.
Even archeologists have to admit that these rural workshops are astonishingly accomplished in their simulation techniques. This capacity to lend goods a past charm may cause frustration for both curio dealers and buyers, but on the bright side it has turned into a blessing for museums whose ancient exhibits require such delicate restoration skills.
“This is from the past,” a villager picked up a pot from a pile of similar ones. “But many of my customers simply mistake it for a botched reproduction. It actually remains just as it was when first unearthed.” He scoffed the conceit of some people who believe they can determine the age of a porcelain piece with just a glance.
There are over 20 art reproduction factories of scale in Shenhou Town, with countless other small family workshops all enjoying a brisk business.
The Science of
Reproduction
However, these farmer artisans from Henan are miles from the hot centers of modern art reproduction technologies; the real grandmasters are people in well-appointed labs, versed in both the art and the science of replication. One of them is Ma Jukui, an artist from Henan who heads the Ru Kiln Porcelain Research Institute of Baofeng County.
The Ru Kiln of the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127) represents the zenith of Chinese porcelain technique. Its products, distinguished for their celadon vitreous glaze and irregular veins, were prized by generations of emperors, but few had been preserved. The kiln operated for merely two decades, and the output was small. It is estimated that there are no more than 65 pieces of Ru porcelain left around the world. Even a shard of the size of nail can fetch more than RMB 1,000 today.
After decades of study and experimentation, Ma Jukui eventually managed to recreate the lost art of the Ru Kiln. “The process consists of a dozen steps, from building the right kiln, to finding the perfect temperature to set the clay and pigments,” said Ma. “A successful reproduction must precisely take on all the hallmarks of the Ru porcelain. Missing a single one means complete failure.”
Experts from the Palace Museum have confirmed that Ma’s works are the closest to original Ru wares. “Nobody but the top mavens can tell if they are genuine or not. These are people who have extensively studied the Ru Kiln,” the artist bragged.
Gao Shuiwang, president of Luoyang Nine-Dynasty Cultural Relic Replicas Co., Ltd., is a champion Tang pottery duplicator. In the company’s plant every product is still made by hand exactly the way it was done 1,000 years ago. “Tang pottery was made of kaoline, as is ours. And we follow the same firing techniques,” Mr. Gao said.
He took a fragment of a genuine Tang Sancai and a replica in either hand, and held them to the light. The two appear no different in their texture, hues of glaze or their level of abrasion.
In one corner of his workshop white ceramic goblets in a double-dragon design are piled up in a row; these cost tea manager Chen Jufeng tens of thousands of Yuan.
Mr. Gao said that the success of replication lies largely in how well to make the new to look aged. Several large mounds of earth of slightly different colors lie in the yard of his factory. “Relics were from different areas, where the soils differ,” he explained. He poked open one mound to expose a vessel that had been buried there for three years. “When ancient tombs are excavated, I will send people to collect samples of the soil. Our products are then covered up for long periods underground for the dirt to solidly adhere to them. This is done with the assistance of chemicals. When retrieved, they will possess an air of antiquity.”
Cracks on the Surface
Chen Jingshun keeps a showroom of ancient ceramics. The exhibits were ferreted from the ruins of kilns across Henan over the course of 30 years, and are meant to offer some reference for collectors in verifying their purchases. In recent years Mr. Chen has noticed a declining interest in Henan relics. “The discernment of collectors cannot grow as fast as upgrades in counterfeiting techniques,” said Chen Jingshun.
Lack of strict industrial standards or effective market supervision has therefore resulted in a decline in prices and reputation. When replicas are passed off as genuine antiques, the market is disturbed, causing huge losses to collectors.
In the 1980s and early 1990s Tang Sancai copies were sent by Chinese government to foreign state leaders as gifts. Soon a kind of fetish developed for the pottery across the nation. During its peak period there were more than 3,000 factories, mostly tiny and shabby, sprinkled around Luoyang City, cradle of the craft. They churned out shoddy Tang Sancai by the millions, and undercut each other in a chaotic price war. With a glut in the market, many of their products ended up being hawked by street vendors, demeaning a treasure of Chinese art into a bargain item.
Currently there is wide concern over the resurgence of Henan porcelains, and it is well founded. “Collectors are mournful and fearful of Tang Sancai, Ru and Jun porcelains originating from Henan,” said Chen Jingshun. “The reproductions can be spectacular, revealing no clue as to what is real and what is a sham. The result is that even if sellers come up with a genuine piece, buyers won’t bother to take a serious look. The interest in these wares has vanished, due to the unfortunate overabundance of fakes.”
MENG QINGHAI and ZHOU YIXIANG are CCTV reporters.