Jingdezhen Hand-Painted Porcelain – Xiaogu Tang
By Muxi
I’ve always had a natural fondness for porcelain. To me, it feels like a treasure beyond the mundane, much like the written word. It’s hard to describe its beauty—like a breeze, flowing water, or mist. Its beauty lies in an artistic realm. Whether it’s a small vase, a teacup, or a porcelain panel painting, none can be compared to mass-produced brand-name goods. One might even say they exist on entirely different planes. Hand-painted Porcelain pieces, in particular, are each unique, every one worthy of collection.
Each piece carries the artist’s spirit, as if through it, one could glimpse the paths they’ve walked, the tea they’ve sipped, the people they’ve known. In my view, these artisans’ creations are not mere commodities with price tags—they deserve to meet the right person, someone who will cherish them. To those who understand, they are priceless.
Jingdezhen, this ancient town, is globally renowned for its porcelain.
I’ve passed by many times but never stopped to explore it. Late last year, on a whim, I decided it was time to visit. Perhaps the moment had finally come—I’ve always believed in such things, much like I trust my intuition.
I wandered through several porcelain hubs, each sight filling me with delight. I felt like Grandma Liu stumbling into the Grand View Garden. Artworks of varying quality and style dazzled the eye. The embossed floral and linglong (openwork) techniques left a deep impression.
I never saw them as mere goods—they were all artworks, deserving reverence and awe.
By chance, I entered a blue-and-white porcelain shop and found an easy rapport with the owner. From our conversation, I learned his family had been hand-painting porcelain for generations. He showed me a vase, explaining the painting and firing techniques. I marveled at the artisans’ talent and the wisdom of ancient craftsmen.
Then a slightly plump, ordinary-looking woman walked over. The owner introduced her as the artist behind the vase. Though she wore no makeup, her skin was rough with blemishes, and her clothes were plain enough to vanish into a crowd, the thought of her sitting quietly, brush in hand, painting such a masterpiece, struck me as profoundly moving.
I gave her a thumbs-up and praised her work. She smiled faintly and said she’d been painting for over twenty years—just a simple craftsperson. Such calmness and humility must be why her works are so exquisite and breathtaking.
Mr. Shuangchen is an old friend of many years, a provincial-level craft artist and a national first-grade technician. He runs his own studio, Xiaogu Tang, and his works are well-known in the ancient town. Every time we meet, he gifts me one of his creations.
When I receive them, I handle them with care, gently placing them in glass cabinets, seldom taking them out.
Artistic one-of-a-kind pieces are worth treasuring. Only when they meet someone who understands do they seem to gain a soul, shining with a unique brilliance—like a pure, radiant smile reserved only for the right person.
Perhaps because true understanding is rare in this world, I’d rather these pieces stay quietly in a corner than be tainted by vulgarity. That would be sacrilege. For artisan friends like these, what I feel most is respect.
This time, my friend wasn’t in town, so I couldn’t visit him. But his works are still worth sharing—what if they meet the right person? One more admirer would only affirm their value.
Jingdezhen—a paradise of porcelain art. I’ll return.
