High hopes for lion dance of the air
Young performers slowly master intricate skills required to keep the ‘creature’ entertaining for the audience, Yang Feiyue and Hu Meidong report.
Give fishermen a thread, and they can tie it to a hook to catch fish, but give it to someone from Huotong town and they can make a lion fly. Indeed, many children growing up in the town in Ningde city, Fujian province, might be under the early impression that lions can actually fly, as they are exposed to the popular local folk art of the string lion dance at a tender age.
From a distance, numerous bamboo lions with colorful manes were visible high above a small wooden stage in Xingxian village in midMarch, each seeming to have a life of their own. Closer up, it was possible to see that they were linked by what looked like countless long strings that were being manipulated by a team of youngsters behind the stage.
The youngsters exerted themselves during the show, sometimes using their weight to haul on the strings, and other times jumping up and down to manipulate the threads, which resembled a neural network, to make the lions pull off stunts, ranging from crouching and waking up, to leaping, chasing left and right, and fighting for a ball.
Applause broke out from the crowd as the lions came to rest, and a group of young boys stepped out from behind the curtain.
“This is my happiest moment, getting recognition from the audience,” says Chen Jihong, 24, who leads the team of around 30 members aged between 13 and 24.
Like other children in the region, Chen was first fascinated by the dance as a child when his mother took him to watch a lantern show on eryue’er, the second day of the second lunar month, which is also known as longtaitou, or Dragon Head Raising Day. He recalls how the crowd suddenly became excited and roared for the string lions to come out. Curious, he eagerly pushed through the crowd to get a closer view as the lifelike beasts came into sight.
Huang Zhenqiao, a senior inheritor of the tradition that was named a national intangible cultural heritage in 2006, says that the string lion dance dates back about 1,300 years and is one of the most charming shows at the local lantern fair on that day.
The finale is the unity of man and lion performance, during which the lions bow to the audience to express their gratitude to the people, and to bless their wishes for good weather for farming, he adds.
Thanks to the creativity of folk artists across the ages, the dance has become more sophisticated and increasingly popular.
Chen founded his own troupe in 2014 out of his passion for the tradition that is deeply rooted in his hometown and consulted his elders to learn how to make the lions.
The first step is to fashion one out of the local Moso bamboo. “The bamboo has to be those grown in the south or just north of the mountains, because it tends to be more robust from receiving stronger sunlight,” Chen says. “The bamboo nodes should be a little longer, so they are less likely to crack open when chopped, and you should always choose mature bamboo with red spots on its surface,” he adds.
The bamboo is split and its skin is separated and baked over fire.
“Paper is pasted onto the bamboo and paint is applied,” Chen says, adding that the other steps include assembling the mane and painting the decorations.
“It takes at least a month to make a lion,” he says.
As the string lion dance was passed strictly down along family lines, it was difficult for Chen’s team to find a trainer.
“We watched performances in the town and videos of string lion shows, learning as we watched, and gradually mastered the skills,” Chen says.
During the dance, the performers cannot see the lions on the stage and have to rely entirely on the rhythm of the drums and gongs to control their movements.
A string lion weighs at least 10 kilograms, and a large one can weigh more than 20 kg. It takes skill and coordination to make it jump and dance using the strings, a task that is a significant test of physical strength and teamwork and requires extensive practice. “The most difficult part is working in unison,” Chen says.
Each element, from controlling the heads, bodies and tails of lions and the embroidered ball they chase, to drumming and beating the gongs, has its own designated performers, who all work to make everything come together.
“For example, take the lion biting the ball, one of the classic movements. If the lion bites it at the last minute, it signifies happiness, but if it fails, the audience will be disappointed,” Chen explains.
The troupe practices in a small area in front of an old temple in the village.
“We give performances every day, and if we have time, we’ll also gather to practice,” he says, adding that he gets a bit angry if he sees younger members slacking off during training.
“They sometimes forget to put the ball in, or pull the tail too high, so I’m forced to show them over and again how the movements should go,” he says, adding that it is important they take his suggestions to heart, respect the lion dance, and work things out with one another during the performance.
Under his influence, Chen’s teammates are becoming more serious about performances.
One of them, Chen Chao, says he has come to view the dance as a cherished career. “The pain of injury from practice is temporary, but the joy of mastering the skills lasts a long time,” he says.
Song Jiacheng has been with the troupe for four years. The 14-yearold says he is deeply moved by consistent work of other older members, and has come to appreciate the beauty of the show.
As their skills have improved, the troupe has received more opportunities to perform. Their commitment has also won them the support of the elderly craftsmen in the village, who have helped them with woodwork, while others have helped raise funds.
“The string lion dance is not just a hobby now, but also a passion to carry on traditional intangible cultural heritage,” Chen Jihong says.
When they have trouble getting the funds to take performances on the road, Chen Jihong takes odd jobs, such as peddling handmade glutinous rice balls, to make ends meet. He considers this a test the troupe has to pass before it is able to really make a go of the art.
“We just have to make do, and see what happens,” he says. “I dig into my own pocket if I have to, because if we don’t, things will eventually fall apart.”
Recently, their story has been turned into a documentary.
Liu Shenghui, the documentary’s producer, says that it hasn’t been easy for the troupe to persist for more than a decade. “Through this filming experience, this group of youngsters truly touched us,” Liu says.
Despite the lack of funding, and the general feeling among many people that art is not a serious pursuit, the team members have continued to fight for what they love.
Zhang Shuxi, the documentary director, says the troupe’s perseverance is worth learning from.
Chen Jihong says he’s grateful that he and his troupe have been featured in a documentary and that they will work harder to bring the art to a bigger stage.
So far, they have explored ways of integrating the dance into learning tours of the village and are working on building a website and a WeChat account to promote it.
“The organic integration of contemporary trends with traditional culture is the greatest advantage our generation has in inheriting intangible cultural heritage,” Chen Jihong says.