RTCPODS - China English Podcast Hub

2025-01-21 A ceramic vessel of culture, wine, and poetic spirit

Like the finest wines, the best inspiration for poetry is brewed and vivified, if served in the right vessel. In this episode, we present a phoenix-headed tricolor ceramic wine vessel from the Tang Dynasty, some 1200 years ago. In what ways did it influence the development of Chinese poetry at the height of its glory? Special thanks: The Gansu Provincial Museum Liu Zhihua Liu Yanfeng

Subtitles Will Show Here.

It's not unusual to see a timid guy suddenly become eloquent after drinking a little wine. But how about a man of letters holding up an exotic cup, seeing a shining wine vessel, and waxing lyrical? Today's episode of ancient relics and their stories features just such a magical vessel from the town dynasty some 1,200 years ago. It's so much more than just an artifact or tableware. Ready for the story? Then please raise a glass or just imagine you have one in hand. First of all, cheers! If you are a writer, wine can infuse words with colour, depth and character. In the town dynasty, a golden age of poetry, witchy verses simply flowed after every sip. The more you drank, the better verses you would utter. A fine cup would surely help with that. Inspiration is surely brewed and vivified if served in the right vessel, as its aroma fills the air. Then comes the flood of salt and an outburst of lyrical lines in rhythm. I raise my cup to invite the moon who blends her light with my shadows, and we free our friends. Three friends? Well, the drinker, the moon and its own shadow, of course. Or from cups of jade that glows with wine of grapes at night, drinking to peep our songs, we're summoned to fight. A bugle sounds at a joyful moment, but a sudden turn of emotions. Now you know the vessel we're featuring today is really something, a unique phoenix-headed, tricular ceramic wine vessel from the town dynasty. It ushered in an important period of cultural exchange between China and Central Asia, bringing with it the highlight of tricular ceramic making. In 1972, the santai, or tricular phoenix-headed yuwa, was unearthed in the town gentry's tomb in Tianshui, northwest China's Gansu province. Tianshui played a pivotal role in the history of the ancient Silk Road as a crucial stop along the route that connected China's heartland with Central Asia and further beyond. The yuwa is perhaps one of the items brought by Zogtian merchants to China through the trade route originating from Central Asia or present-day Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. In the renowned Arabic story collection A Thousand and One Nights, words made of gold, silver or glass are frequently mentioned in the novel when depicting the luxurious lives of royalty, nobles and wealthy merchants. It typically has a long, slender neck offered with a decorative spout and loop handle. Its oval-shaped body and treffled mouth made it easy to store and pour liquids, such as liquor, milk and beverages. Soon, the vessel won favour with the royal family and elite of the Tang dynasty, influencing their drinking habits. Prior to this, the Chinese typically used a rectangular bronze vessel called a zun to store wine, with a long-handled spoon to refuel cups, making it difficult to control the amount of liquid being poured. Whether yuwa, things were easier. You simply lowered it to pour more wine and lifted it to stop. Looking good and easy to use, it sparked a new trend. To meet the growing demand, it was adopted and adapted locally, with artisans incorporating Chinese cultural motifs using ceramics as a primary material and blending external elements with local emblems. The new design features a characteristic blend of three main hues, white, green and yellow, along with other beautiful colours, enhancing its overall allure. It marked the beginning of an era when Chinese ceramics were produced in multiple colours. But it was not intended for everyday use, but rather for funerary purposes. Due to the high cost of production, Tricular ceramics like this were typically found in the tombs of the elite, reflecting the social status of the deceased. Influenced by Buddhist beliefs, the phoenix motif symbolizing rebirth and the journey to enlightenment was incorporated into this tricular yuwa, reflecting a hope that the departed would still enjoy an opulent afterlife. Items placed in the tomb were surely what the deceased cherished and most frequently used in life. Yuas, for instance, were indispensable, as wine was the favourite of both the elite and common people in the Tang dynasty. For poets, it meant emotion and inspiration. Regarded as the finest in Chinese literary history, Tang poems captured the essence of an era like no others. Every word and line embraces the full spectrum of human experience, love, friendship, longing, loss, frustration, fury and the complexities of the world itself. Among all poets of the Tang dynasty, Li Bai is a towering figure often revered as the god of poems and the immortal of wine. Many of his most celebrated works were a result of a free flow of emotions brewed in wine. He blends simplicity with vivid imagery, capturing both the beauty of the natural world and the depth of human emotions, as reflected in his masterpiece entitled Invitation to Wine. Li Bai had political ambition, thinking he was a troubleshooter in governance, but that was unfortunately, or rather fortunately, unrealistic, as he was born into the intellectual world of the literati. Emperor Xuanzong appreciated him, only as an amazing and amusing poet, and never thought of promoting him to be a real administrator. He made friends with some officials to help his ambitions, but they only liked him for his artistic skills. So, fortunately, he harvested personal friendship together with hope and depression, and translated them into his lyrics. Otherwise, Chinese poetry would have missed a shining superstar, like the global landscape without Mount Tumulama, known by some as Everest. So, one autumn evening, Li Bai met with a couple of close friends, and had a heartfelt talk by the banks of the Yellow River. At that moment, Li Bai had left a royal palace, with his political ambitions shattered. His only reward was money for having entertained the emperor for more than a year. Over a few drinks, Li Bai and his friends shared their true feelings, thoughts, and experiences. He had to face reality, albeit reluctantly, of his place in society. Where he belonged, and perhaps more importantly, where not? A genius in one field, and an idiot in another. Why? Conforded him again. As the gentle breeze and splashes of water were blown onto his face, he cried in delight, a wine vessel in hand. He chanted, Do you not see the Yellow River come from the sky, rush to the sea and never return? With just a few words, he was back again, where he belonged. Then, the iconic line of optimism, or is it an ironic line of reluctance? Heaven has made us talents. We were not made in vain. This stanza is still widely quoted today, encouraging people not to give up, even at their darkest moments. It carries a similar message to the lyrics by Persian poet, Mo'lama Jalalujin Rumi, You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop. In another verse, Kill a cow, cook a sheep, and let us marry thee, and drink three hundred cupfuls of wine in high glee. Levi emphasizes the importance of living in the moment and enjoying life to the fullest. This sentiment is echoed in Shakespeare's comedy, 12th Night. Give me some music and let me have my hearing. The hero, Orsino, was asking for a song to relieve his failed loving longing, but that line reflects a similar celebration of the present and the joys of life. Town poise were often romantic, valuing friendship as one of the greatest treasures in life. Many poems express the heartache of parting with the friends, reflecting the difficulty of long-distance travel in ancient times. In one boy's farewell to Prefect Do, he bids goodbye to a friend, and his emotions are captured in the famous line, If you have a friend who knows your heart, distance can't keep you two apart. Farewells were quite often a drinking party, with wine vessels sighted from time to time in verses as part of the memory. One school of town poetry features frontier life for soldiers away from home, as the town dynasty was marked by warfare and the constant need to defend its borders, especially in the north-western Gobi desert. Wang Changlin's army life, consisting of seven poems, vividly paints the emotional complexity of these soldiers, caught between duty, sacrifice, and the joys of triumph. The home sickness of soldiers is a topic that never fails to touch hearts. Imagine a soldier standing on a gate tower, gazing out at the vast desert stretching before him, a desolate, endless landscape that amplifies his isolation. But then, a sound of a distant flute reaches his ears. Its melancholy tone plucks his heartstrings. To him, it is as if the music carries whispers from home, from loved ones far away, which further deepen his longing for the warmth of his family. The duo we present today was portrayed in the sixth poem of Wang Changlin's army life, where wine was an essential part of a soldier's life. It was a bond between comrades in arms, a cure for home sickness, and a spark that few of them resolved to fight for their country. In the poem, a montage unfolds. Under a bright full moon, a soldier keeps watch on horseback, with a ewer tied to his arm. The general rides the Zishan halls, a wine vessel to arm-tied. West of Sui Ye City, the autumn moon high in the sky. Picture the sea. On that quiet night, a general has just received the emperor's decree. He drank from his vessel, and now leads his soldiers to launch an overnight battle. So the ewer, an object of everyday life, was not only a symbol of the town's cultural fusion, but also a reminder of how deeply intertwined wine, art, and inspirations were in this golden age of poetry. Whether held in the hand of a soldier, a scholar, or a poet, it was more than just a vessel. It embodies the patriotic spirit of the time. In short, the significance of this vessel extends from trade, culture exchanges, to lifestyle, and to literature. If you'd like to see the trickier Phoenix-headed ceramic wine vessel we introduced today, please visit the Gansu Provincial Museum. Here, I would like to extend my sincere thanks to the museum and its associate researcher, Liu Zhihua, for their support. As the year of the snake on the Chinese lunar calendar approaches, our next episode will explore the fascinating role of the snake in Chinese artifacts. We'll delve into its deep connection to Chinese culture and the stories it tells through art. What does the snake symbolize in Chinese tradition? We hope you've enjoyed today's episode and enjoying drinking responsibly. I look forward to meeting you again next time. Goodbye.