THE LONG AND COLORFUL JOURNEY OF ENAMEL
What would be the most apt words to describe the domestic ambience of a literary-minded man living in 14th-century China during the Ming empire (1368-1644)? To a modern-day person who has dabbled in the country’s aesthetic history, likely candidates would be “sober” and “demure”, bearing in mind the succinct lines and dark colors of the Ming-style furniture.
But it is only partially right, said Lu Pengliang, assistant curator of the Asian art department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. In a sequestered space on the third floor of the museum, Lu has amassed a clamorous show.
Titled Embracing Color: Enamel in Chinese Decorative Arts, 1300-1900, it features nearly 100 pieces of Chinese enamelware, almost all dating to the Ming and Qing (16441911) dynasties.
With bold colors bordering on boisterous and patterns intricate to the point of intoxicating, the exhibits, from fruit plates and flower vases to incense burners and snuff bottles, beckon viewers with a flight of fancy into history.
Cloisonne enameling, used in the West since ancient times, entails affixing thin metal strips to the pre-drawn surface of a metal object. This creates many small compartments — the French cloisons means partitions — into which a paste of finely ground, colored glass and water is placed.
The piece is then fired, turning the glass into enamel and fusing it with the metal. Often the enamel shrinks, and a second or even a third application and firing is needed to fill the cloisons completely.
Contemporary writings of the Ming era traced cloisonne enameling, believed to have been introduced to China in the late 13th century, to the Arab empire (632-1258) and the Byzantine empire (395-1453).
Ming cloisonne had colors bursting on the copper surfaces of daily wares, with the standing edges of the copper strips polished and gilded to contrast with the objects’ signature turquoise and lapis blues.
The blues, which gave rise to the Chinese name for cloisonne enameling, jingtailan (jingtai is the reign mark of the seventh emperor of Ming, and lan means blue), were made possible through imported and later domestically produced cobalt pigment.
In fact it was the same pigment that led to the production of chinaware painted in underglaze blue, a famed category of Chinese porcelain known as qinghua (blue flower pattern).
Lu’s Chinese color story is partly centered on cloisonne and partly on porcelain.
“Both involved enameling. While cloisonne was never realized on the surface of porcelain, it did every bit to inform its chromatic overglaze.”
In the same way copper strips were used with cloisonne, the underglaze blue was employed to draw the outline and provide partition for the varied colors of the overglaze, added during a second firing.
In the late 17th to the 18th century, what Lu calls “the second transformation” was taking place, with the introduction to China of new European enameling materials and techniques.
At the same time, Europe’s infatuation with China was evidenced by the popularity of chinoiserie, Lu said, referring to the interpretation and imitation of Chinese style by European artists and artisans through the late 17th century and the 18th century, in everything from home deco to garden design. Chinese enamelware exported to Europe was also meant to satisfy that desire.
The same creations were aimed at China’s domestic market as well, a brightly colored 18th-century porcelain vase that once lit up a Chinese home being graced on its side by two Western women holding a parasol. Its maker used opaque enamels to create shading, giving the images a three-dimensional effect that could also be found in Chinese paintings at the time, thanks in part to the Western missionary-artists who worked in the Qing court.
“The fascination is mutual,” Lu said.