Toys are most people's sweetest childhood memories.
These days, children have such a huge variety of choices, from hairy animals, cartoons to sophisticated electronic games, that they are oblivious to the playthings their parents or grandparents enjoyed many years ago.
In fact, few Beijingers under the age of 40 know of <i>zongren</i>, or bristle figurine.
Unique to Beijing, <i>zongren</i> received world acclaim long ago. It won a silver medal at the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition held in San Francisco, said Bai Dacheng, 66, currently the only <i>zongren</i> craftsman in Beijing.
Located inside the quiet Dongguanfang hutong near the scenic Shichahai area, Bai's home and workshop appears to be a family museum of handiworks including shadow play (piying), dough figurines (mianren) and flying kites.
People nostalgic for old Beijing culture will be astonished by the sight of so many rare toys. Most eye-catching, however, are the dozens of exquisite <i>zongren</i> figurines packed up in an antique cupboard.
About 15 centimetres tall, <i>zongren</i> is the clay miniature of various Peking Opera characters, dressed in silk costumes and armed with tiny weapons.
A ring of short pig bristles is densely adhered to the bottom, which distinguishes the figurines from any other figurines.
The bristles seem useless, but believe it or not, they enable the figurines in Bai's collection to dance. Visitors to Bai's studio cannot wait to see how he gets his clay actors to resemble a real opera.
"It is easy. Put two or three figurines on an ordinary bronze tea plate, then slightly strike its edge with a stick. With resonance, the bristle stand vibrates and makes the figurine move," Bai said.
Turning around in opposite directions, figurines inevitably fight with each other and dance to clear tapping sounds. Fascinating stage effects ensue.
And that is how <i>zongren</i> came to be given another name, "Peking Opera on a plate."
Take a look at Bai's collection. One will notice some figurines looking smaller and less refined than others. Their flat arms are connected with a flexible steel, which allows them to swing. This is adapted from piying. Over 100 years old, these are original works of Wang Chunpei, father of <i>zongren</i>.
Wang was a Manchu craftsman of the late Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). His enthusiasm for the arts of Peking Opera and piying inspired him to invent bristle figurines.
Immediately after Wang created <i>zongren</i> and showed it at festival fairs, the small dancing clay figurines became popular. It captured juries' attention at the 1915 International Expo.
In late 1930s, a tea merchant from the United States invited Wang to showcase his bristle toys across the Pacific, and offered the destitute artisan considerable money.
But Wang was unwilling to leave his homeland and declined the invitation.
Life-long devotion
"I didn't know about the bristle figurine until I was 19. I became ill and had to suspend my schooling as a student of aviation engineering in 1959," said Bai.
Brought up in a hutong, Bai has been enthusiastic for Beijing's folk arts since childhood. He is apt at Chinese painting and making clay figurines (niren).
He met an elder <i>zongren</i> enthusiast, who took him to visit 60-year-old Wang Hanqing, son of Wang Chunpei. Though an accomplished craftsman inheriting his father's skills, Wan Hanqing found it difficult to live on bristle figurines. He had no intention to preserve the art as a family tradition.
Fascinated with this dying handicraft, Bai learned the art of <i>zongren</i> from Wang and recognized it as lifetime devotion.
He later opened a small studio at the Wangfujing Street in early 1960s to sell his bristle productions. He also performed at several traditional fairs and grand handicraft exhibitions.
A comeback of old Beijing art, Bai's <i>zongren</i> figurines have attracted customers from both home and abroad, who have spread the dancing figurines on the plate to many parts of the world, including Japan, France and Israel.
In 1999, he initiated the Old Beijing Culture Street at the rebuilt Dong'an Building and opened a platform for many other craftsmen and folk artists struggling for survival.
Bai also owns two studios to make <i>zongren</i> works there.
Despite the popularity of his handicraft, Bai shies away from large-scale productions and insists on individualized orders.
Large-scale production may make money, but it will lose the uniqueness, he said.
He believes that to revive the declining folk art, maintaining its originality is top priority.
New attempts
In the past five decades, he has spared no efforts to create better <i>zongren</i> figurines.
Earliest bristle figurines made by the Wang family had no legs and all wore colourful paper dresses.
To strike a vivid pose on the plate, Bai first attaches legs to the clay body, one lifting up, to give life and even spirit to the new figurines, who are able to stand on one foot.
He has also replaced the fragile paper with silk, to the backside of which he has stuck a layer of xuan paper, a kind of high quality paper to write calligraphy.
The gorgeous and delicate costume designs light up every character, and highlight Bai's drawing talents. Bai also pays minute attention to sketching the facial make-ups.
"Without a comprehensive knowledge of Peking Opera, one could not portray a vivid face with a soul," he said.
The largest set of bristle figurines Bai has ever completed features the fairy tale character Sun Wukong, or the monkey king, and over 30 little monkeys.
And this rebelling monkey seems to be quite popular among most of Bai's foreign friends.
An 80-centimetre-high monkey king made to a Japanese customer's order in 1989 has long been a record in Bai's art life of <i>zongren</i>.
Despite his success, Bai, like most folk artists, has trouble finding a devoted successor.
Under his arrangement, his son Bai Lin was exposed to the regular study of the Peking Opera. But now he works in the tourism industry, and shows little interest in his father's business.
(China Daily February 28, 2006)
