A Façade of Beauty: Jingdezhen Porcelain and the Politics of Craft in Qing China
Before the elites of Europe treasured porcelain, it was a fine ceramic that was diligently formulated, painted, and fired in the imperial kilns of Jingdezhen in Qing China. Jingdezhen porcelain originated in southeastern China and gained popularity during the Ming dynasty, but it piqued the interest of the world during the Qing dynasty, as it became the center of the international porcelain trade. By extension, it became a unique symbol of Chinese technological and artistic dominance. Jingdezhen gained its reputation as the global capital of porcelain not only because of the distinct artistry that was being produced, but also because of the city’s meticulously managed systems of labor and imperial patronage that maintained its upkeep as the trade expanded. Any piece of porcelain that was exported from Jingdezhen was more than an indicator of material skill— it also represented an interdependent network of specialized artisans, bureaucratic officials, and of course, foreign consumers. In Jingdezhen porcelain was an instrument of empire and a producer of global aggrandizement. This essay examines how Jingdezhen porcelain was a reflection of political craft-making in Qing China, exploring its production methods, labor system, and imperial relationships with the artists to demonstrate how the making of porcelain was inseparable from the mechanisms of political power.
The craft-making of Jingdezhen porcelain involved an arduous process of precision, as the coordination of technical skill and the mastery of the material was a must for artisans. The kaolin was at the crux of the process. Kaolin is a white clay gathered from the hills that surrounded Jingdezhen, which provided the city with the ability to make porcelain that was categorically translucent and robust. The process was so meticulous that even for a single piece of porcelain to be produced, each step was to be facilitated by different specialized artisans who were all vital to sustaining the chain of labor. The tasks that were split up among the artisans included clay processing, trimming, throwing, painting, molding, inspecting, and being a kiln technician. For each of these tasks, each artisan was specially versed in that individual skill. Pieces of Jingdezhen porcelain were not constructed by individuals, but rather came together through a collective of artisans, which became very institutionalized. A firsthand account of the process can be read in Tang Ying’s Twenty Illustrations of the Manufacture of Porcelain from 1743. Tang Ying, the author of this imperial commission, was the superintendent of the porcelain manufacture in the Jiangxi province, where Jingdezhen is located, from 1736 to 1753. The purpose of this document was to legitimize the system of porcelain production under the patronage of the Qing dynasty. One image in particular, titled “Turning the Unbaked Ware and Scooping out the Foot” depicts workers polishing the surface of the porcelain and then scooping out the foot. In order to do so, one worker spins the unbaked ware on a wheel and uses a knife to smooth out the interior and exterior of the porcelain, but he must do so with intense precision. Another worker removes the leftover clay handle beneath the porcelain, scoops out the foot, and then prepares the piece for final marking, transforming it from raw material to a fine object [1].
Figure 1. “Turning the Unbaked Ware and Scooping out the Foot from Tang Ying’s Twenty Illustrations of the Manufacture of Porcelain (1743). [1]
The descriptions provided by Tang Ying validate the reality that for the porcelain that came out of Jingdezhen, every piece was the result of rote, systematized labor. The text also describes how artisans even had to use their intuition, as those who painted cobalt designs had to anticipate precisely how the oxide would interact with the temperatures they fired at. The artisans usually achieved this through working from memory. The kilns they fired in were over 50 meters long and required constant attention, because overfiring or underfiring could make an entire batch go bad. This reinforces the fact that in this system of labor, material skill was indispensable to the mental fortitude of the artisans. What made the production of Jingdezhen porcelain so ingenious was its consistency with the enormous scale at which it was manufactured, which truly showcased a choreographic arrangement of labor.
The systematic organization that allowed for the scale of production of Jingdezhen porcelain can be attributed to the highly regimented social system of Qing China. Jingdezhen during the Qing period was organized like a fine ceramic metropolis— a formulated kiln network, vast workshops, and marketplaces that were all dedicated solely to the production of porcelain. Jingdezhen’s infrastructure was able to support kilns that were owned by the imperial officials as well as private kilns. During the peak production periods, the city boasted a population of over 100,000, many of whom were directly or indirectly involved in the trade of porcelain [2]. The division of labor in Jingdezhen was both horizontal and vertical. In terms of the horizontal divisions of labor, production was organized into individual specialized tasks. Vertical divisions of labor, on the other hand, were formulated by hierarchies of mastery, experience, and authority. Master artisans, many of whom worked for the Directorate for Imperial Manufactories, or shang fang (尚方), under the supervision of the state, were at the top of the hierarchy. Journeymen and apprentices were right below the master artisans. General laborers, who made up the bulk of the system’s manpower, were at the bottom of the hierarchy. These workers were often paid by the piece or by the task, therefore making the hierarchical system one that rewarded scale and precision, but by extension placed immense, constant pressure on the workers. As scholar Dorothy Ko notes in the introduction to her book, The Social Life of Inkstones, porcelain was one of the materials that was in the category of “traditional mastery of the technical processes crucial to the governance of the vast empire on symbolic and material levels” [3]. Jingdezhen was one of the cities that were integral in facilitating the scale of governance during Qing China, where artisans labored under strict quotas, inspections for quality, and even punishment for subpar work. On the global stage, Jingdezhen porcelain was a symbol of refinement, but the labor behind the system was ultimately invisible. The systematization of labor in Jingdezhen reveals how the external beauty of porcelain was created internally by the strict subjugation of human bodies, enforcement of the social order, and the sustaining of imperial control through craftsmanship.
Imperial administrative mechanisms were also inextricable from the porcelain production process in Jingdezhen during the Qing period. Jingdezhen, as explained by scholar Anne Gerritsen, was an extension of the bureaucratic apparatus of the state. Maps of Jingdezhen during Qing China show that the town was depicted almost solely through the lens of imperial infrastructure. For example, a 1682 map of Jingdezhen illustrates the entire walled city as being composed exclusively of the imperial kiln factory, or yu yao chang (御窑厰), which suggests that state cartographers interpreted the city’s identity as being synonymous with its purpose as a supplier of fine goods for the administrative state. The Directorate for Imperial Manufactories in Jingdezhen supervised the scale of massive production for the court, delivering information on detailed specifications for the porcelain’s motifs, colors, and quantity. These were not merely material markers that were being recorded for the administrative state, but were special signs of hierarchy that were encoded in the porcelain. Specific glazes, such as imperial yellow, or motifs such as dragons, were reserved for exclusive people within the imperial state, and there were even special reservations for the emperor. As Gerritsen points out, however, what makes Jingdezhen unique is that there was a massive disconnect between the city’s production mechanisms and the global market it fulfilled [4]. The imperial state presented themselves as practitioners of order, but the everyday setting of Jingdezhen was one of noise, dust, and strict enforcement. Therefore, it is important that we not glorify Jingdezhen as a site of creative labor, but more so as a deliberately managed imperial ecosystem that manufactured a façade of beauty. The kilns that produced Jingdezhen porcelain were a technology of power to extend the emperor’s reach, standing in stark contrast to the imperial image of refinement.
While the regulation of porcelain production within imperial China was stringent, its influence beyond the borders of the Qing dynasty was free-flowing. Traders from Portugal, the Netherlands, and later Great Britain exchanged porcelain that came from Jingdezhen along maritime routes. The international trade of porcelain stretched so far that it became a medium of economic exchange and cultural diplomacy. Fragments of Jingdezhen ceramics have been found as far as the Swahili Coast and the Ottoman Empire, showing that the porcelain exchange endured through several centuries and outside empires. The culturally diplomatic element of Jingdezhen porcelain can be evidenced by the distinct porcelain pieces that were tailored to the particular demands of foreign markets. Porcelain plates were decorated with European coats of arms, Islamic calligraphy, and even scenes from Western mythology, revealing the adaptability of the artisans, not only in terms of technical skill, but also in terms of cultural proficiency. Jingdezhen porcelain being so widespread internationally resulted in imitators, such as Meissen porcelain from Germany, speaking to the aesthetic and technological influence of Jingdezhen’s artisans [4]. The imitators, however, failed to match Jingdezhen porcelain’s durability and translucence. Since people were able to distinguish between Jingdezhen porcelain and its imitators, owning authentic Jingdezhen porcelain was an indicator of one’s admiration for the refinement and mystery of its craft-making. Furthermore, this extended the Qing state’s soft power, as the fascination with Jingdezhen porcelain was a reinforcement of the perceived superiority of Chinese artisanal knowledge. Jingdezhen porcelain was not only physically robust, but was culturally resilient and created a narrative of Chinese civilization being orderly, mysterious, and rooted in refinement.
Jingdezhen porcelain during the Qing period was more than an aesthetic commodity— it was the materialization of a political system of craft-making. Its production depended on massive coordination efforts of artisans and bureaucrats that were maintained through imperial mandates and social hierarchies. This seemingly orderly arrangement, however, masked the reality that the scale of porcelain production was made possible by an extremely stratified and authoritarian labor regime, where external beauty was the façade of the routinization of human labor. The imperial state was in control of both the aesthetic dimensions of porcelain as well as its symbolic power. Thus, it was a way for the imperial state to propagate ideology on a material surface at a global scale. Jingdezhen porcelain became a global agent of the legitimization of the dynasty, shaping artistic trends far beyond the periphery of Qing China. The success of creating global admiration for porcelain pieces reinforced the perception of Chinese civilizational superiority, often spearheaded by the narrative of Chinese civilization having mysterious, unattainable knowledge. An exploration of Jingdezhen porcelain is more than studying the refinement of the ceramics— it reveals how objects can function as arms of power. The production of beauty, which is refined on its surface, can be an act of empire, fired in the kiln of control.
Works Cited
[1] Ying, Tang. Twenty Illustrations of the Manufacture of Porcelain (1743), translated and reproduced at Gotheborg.com, https://gotheborg.com/twentyillustrations/tangyingindex.shtml. (It is important to note here that the actual illustrations that Tang Ying’s document was supposed to explain have never been identified. The image is a photo taken on location by Jan-Erik Nilsson in 1992 of a worker performing the task as it was depicted in the text.)
[2] Gerritsen, Anne. The City of Blue and White: Chinese Porcelain and the Early Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020).
[3] Ko, Dorothy. The Social Life of Inkstones: Artisans and Scholars in Early Qing China (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2017), 11.
[4] Gerritsen, Anne. “Fragments of a Global Past: Ceramics Manufacture in Song-Yuan-Ming Jingdezhen,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 55, no. 4–5 (2009): 655–687.