Making Chinese Inksticks: A Brief Exploration
Introduction
The four treasures – paper, inkstone, brush, and inkstick – are the defining base components of Chinese scholarship and has been so for much of the culture’s existence. The paper, of course, was the medium upon which scholars and artists would write timeless classics, record the history of the people and dynasty, or paint an image of the Chinese landscape. (山水) The Chinese are famous for having invented paper. The brush, additionally, was the vehicle that communicated these thoughts, skills, and emotions. The inkstone, as portrayed in the image, ground the ink for use. But what of the ink itself? Inksticks have existed since China’s infancy. Quality and integrity of the stick was paramount, as their role in society was vital. How would a society function without writing? A well-made ink would last millennia without fading. This article serves as a brief insight into the world of Chinese inkstick making in the past and the present.
Inkstick making in China has an extremely rich history, dating back to ancient Chinese civilization. It is important, as preservers and purveyors of history, to try to remain faithful while still valuing the role of our own experimentation. After discussing the history of inkstick making and its role in society in past days and in those present, I hope to demonstrate my attempt at the process itself. Over the years upon years of recipe and method collection, subsists as the most popular one in use, but the Li Ting Gui (李廷珪) recipe emerges as the most popular today. I attempt a similar recipe using tung oil; although ultimately my recreation ends up failing, I found this to be a rich experience that I simply cannot wait to share.
What are inksticks?
Of course, the most important question we should ask first - what exactly are we looking to explore? As one could probably surmise from the name, at its most basic, it is a stick made of ink - hardened into a solid mold brick that most often takes the shape of a rectangular or octagonal prism, or whatever shape the artisan desires. These inksticks could then be ground into ink using water and an inkstone, one of the four treasures. These inkstones were often made of limestone, as well as various types of metals. The artisan would blend these 3 elements together, using the water to moisturize and liquify the solidified inkstick. The inkstone would serve as not only a rough surface for this grinding process, but also as a basin for the produced ink which the artist or writer would be able to dip the brush into. This simple process is clearly demonstrated in the photo above - the ink is being collected on the right side of the inkstone, and the inkstick is being ground on the left.
There were various types of inksticks produced in ancient China, with a number of different colors using various types of plants and minerals. I’ve listed some different ingredients and their corresponding colors. These colors would be mixed into the ink mold before being set out to dry. (Inkston)
Red - Vermillion, Cinnabar
Yellow - Arsenic sulphide
Blue - Azurite
Green - Malachite, Jade powder
White - Pearl whites
Gold and Silver - Gold and silver foil
Many of these materials would have been toxic to humans outside of standard use (proper use), however, many traditional artisans are still faithfully recreating some of these inksticks. The most popular color for inksticks, black, would have been the standard in ancient China, and the most widely-accepted formed of the craft today. These inksticks are sparsely used outside of traditional or teaching environments today, but has a number of applications. Whereas in the past, calligraphy and literacy were immensely important to everyday life, practicing traditional calligraphy today is more of a callback to tradition, one’s ancestry, and a popular form of artistic and aesthetic expression amongst Chinese people.
Inksticks and uses portrayed through visuals:
The History of Inksticks
Handscroll painting by Tsou-Fu Lei from 1360. The painting uses a high range of shading from light gray to dark black in order to create contour and portray the tree and its fruit in an artistic manner. (Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution)
Ink paintings such as those by Tsou-Fu Lei represented here were done almost entirely with the use of the four treasures, and notably the inksticks. (Winter, Penn Museum) One’s artistic ability, at such a high level, is only limited by the quality of the tools he is given. If the inkstick were to be made too runny, the ink would smear all over the page and a great work would be ruined. If made too chalky, however, the artist would be forced to draw images in smears, unable to utilize the innate precision offered by a liquid brush. Not just in the world of art, but in society as a whole, the inkstick was a hugely important element in China - ranging from art, record-keeping, governance, literature, education, trade, as well as many others - the inkstick kept Chinese civilization churning, and was a crucial factor in propelling it forward.
“The wide range of shades, coupled with the free-flowing character of the dispersion that affords a great flexibility when used with the Chinese brush, has allowed ink to be a most expressive medium in skilled hands.”
While records seem to be lacking, it is believed that inksticks first appeared in China around the 3rd century BCE, with the earliest records and evidence of making (recipes, methods, records) dating to the 5th and 6th centuries CE. (Winter) This means that inksticks were around for a large portion of China’s history. It is further suggested that liquid ink stored in urns dates back much further, with inksticks being a relatively newer development. The basic recipe for inksticks as we know them today, with the only ingredients being pine soot after burning wood, and glue extracted from animals. The soot would have been mixed with water and then with the animal glue, ground and smashed together, then left to dry over upwards of a year. Most recipes up until 1000 CE involved pine soot until it was realized that tung (as well as vegetable) oil could also be burned for a similar, if not more consistent and less wasteful effect. (Yan)
During this time, artisans would have taken to putting additional elements into their inksticks including perfumes, organic compounds like borneol, and additional carbons and proteins provided by plants and animal fat for any number of desired effects. There is even evidence of early chemical mixing and dilution that would produce different hues and tints within the ink. As time went on, however, many artisans would have opted to introduce fewer additives and more structure, as was offered by carbon and proteins. (Winter, Yan) Going through this brief history, it is evident that many of these inkstick-making artisans engaged in heavy amounts of experimentation with their product. Ironically, by going through this process of exploration and then experimentation, it seems we are following a very similar path. I find it fascinating to be discovering the same obstacles and ideal routes as some of these artisans may have long ago. It is truly a vitriolic feeling to have sought out a certain goal, and only through failure and determination to have achieved it.
Inksticks from various eras in Chinese history, (Free Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Institution.)
The Art of Making - Artisans and Workshops
We have established that in ancient and even pre-modern times, the role of an inkstick artisan was not only to perfect his craft and roll out product, but also to experiment with an established formula and create something perhaps new and exciting. How do the modern equivalent of these artisans compare?
(From Left to Right) Image 1: Man sits next to barrels of soot after having been emptied, his clothes dirty. Image 2: Wicks used in the ovens portrayed behind it. The artisan will dip the wicks into the oil and set alight, causing the oil to burn and create soot. Image 3: A man burns animal fat on a wok? of sorts, burning it. It will later be mixed with the soot, having hardened after drying for upwards of a year, and then left to dry once more. Image 4: The drying racks for both small and larger inksticks. The larger ones appear to be stored on the shelves whereas the smaller ones are dried by hanging from the rafters. Image 5: Once the inksticks have been dried, which in some instances takes up to 5 years, they are collected and designed with the image of a dragon. This design appeals to both traditional and aesthetic sense of mind. (Images provided by Yan, Inkston 2017)
The Workshop
Working with soot, animal fat, ash, and chemical compounds is dirty, demanding work. Every surface is black with soot, and the smell of burning chemicals and animal fat is constantly in the air. In an Old Hu Kai Wen factory workshop producing Li Ting Gui style inksticks, as portrayed in the images above, the work is very traditional with some components of assembly line work. There is a soot collector, persons to attend the ovens and flames, those who mix, those who dry and etch designs after much of the process has been completed, and then the manager. In the case of Zhou Meihong, a workshop owner from Shexian County, his father was an inkstick maker, he has been working in the business for upwards of 30 years, and has been listed among the inheritors of China’s Intangible Cultural Heritage. (Feng, China Today) This is a manager that clearly carries a lot of respect and ethos in the workshop.
With that ethos, Zhou is able to establish himself not only as a capable craftsman, but a capable leader as teacher, as well. Zhou’s workshop seems to be one filled with humility, mutual respect, and forward-thinking instruction. He is also an advocate of intense record-keeping and the passing down of tacit knowledge in case someone should choose to take over or fill a role. Inkstick making, like many other traditional crafts, relies on apprenticeship in order to continue the line of tacit knowledge, however, with the modern age, there may be some difficulties in that regard.
A woman from Zhou Meihong’s workshop, painting traditional Chinese characters indicating the name of the factory upon completed inksticks. (Jiao Feng, reporting for China Today)
“The craft of ink making is closely related to culture, but the workers are by no means scholars.” -Zhou Meihong
The Artisan
Despite the auspicious work structure and managerial relationship portrayed in this inkstick factory, new inkstick artisans are hard to come by because as the world becomes more educated, fewer people tend to work gruffer, more labor-intensive, and dirtier jobs. (Feng) Those artisans that still engage with their craft are likely few and among those older generations that have a more distinguished appeal to tradition. This means that the average inkstick artisan is very competent in their own manner of working. However, given the assembly line structure of many of these factories, it is also likely that these artisans might experience skill in only one aspect of the ink-making process, as opposed to a master that is more knowledgeable of the respective parts of the work. This current state of things is less prone to innovation, and ultimately means that the craft could stagnate.
Recipe(s)
Two inkstick makers burning pine wood for soot in a tent-like structure made of stone. This would have been a valid method of going about the Li Ting Gui recipe. 松烟制墨法 “Collecting Pine Smoke to Make Chinese Ink” (Song Yingxing 1587-1666 CE)
The range of recipes available to explore was really quite overwhelming, given the sheer variety in ingredients, additives, and methods that are valid means of recreating inksticks. my decision came down to practicality, and ease of attaining the items. Some of the more difficult recipes I’ve examined involve extremely exotic items - a good example being a rhinoceros horn. I would not for the life of me know how to attain such an item, or even if possession of such an item is legal. There were also some items that are somewhat problematic, such as Cinnabar, which is essentially mercury ore. I figured it was in the best interest of myself and my family that I refrain from working intimately with Cinnabar. I’ve cited the page where some recipes are included at the bottom of the page. Here are some of the materials I would have needed to gather with some of these recipes.
Pine or Tung soot (made from tung oil)
Fish gelatin, animal fat, cow gelatin, or ox hide and bone
Musk
Gold foil
Borneol, puccoon
Pearl powder
Pogostemon
Pomegranate skin
Cortex fraxini
Some of these items I had not heard of until I began exploring inksticks. The main recipe I was considering, of course, was the Li Ting Gui recipe, translated directly from an Old Hu Kai Wen manuscript, which is based off Li Ting Gui’s original recipe. (Yan) This is the most popular recipe reproduced in China today, and the items I would have needed to attain would not have been too much trouble. However, ultimately I decided to go for a similar recipe involving tung oil shown in this video.
I chose to follow this video mostly because of its step by step process, which allowed me to be more confident and deliberate during my experimentation. I still employed a number of different techniques from different sources. Here is the recipe lined out step by step:
Ingredients needed:
Two ceramic bowls
Tung oil
Lighter/flame
Hay/sticks
Soot brush
Gold foil
Pearl powder
Musk
Ox hide Gelatin
Borneol
Bovine bone gelatin
Process:
Using two ceramic bowls, pour tung oil and put the sticks/hay in one, and then placed the other bowl upside down on top, allowing for openings between the two.
Wait until all the oil is burned.
Using a brush, collect all the soot into a single container.
pour water into the soot and thoroughly mix it.
Set it out overnight
Scoop out the chunks of mushy soot within the container, and leave them to dry for over a year.
After a year, steam the ox hide and bovine bone gelatin until it is soft and sticky.
Smash and grind the gold foil, pearl powder, musk, and borneol into a powder.
Mix it in with the soot.
Mix the steamed gelatinous soup with the soot and powder until the mixture hardens.
Shape the mixture into a mold.
Once it is dry, mold the now harder substance into a brick.
let the brick dry for over a year.
Looking at this recipe, I understood that there were many layers to its challenge. The time spent waiting between certain steps is certainly a big obstacle to making an inkstick. Furthermore, very few of the resources I have surveyed, this video included, offer precise or exact measurements for how little or how much to add to a certain mixture. And lastly, my inexperience and unintuitive relationship with any form of making besides a few limited meals here and there would likely shine through during the experimentation phase.
Experimentation
Starting Out
The first order of business was deciding ultimately what parts of the recipe I physically could not do, and that pretty much included everything past step 6. That being said, those up until step 6 were still decently demanding. Burning soot and being able to collect a sizeable amount without any previous knowledge was sure to be a challenge. I was able to get most of what I needed at target, since I was essentially planned on jerry-rigging almost every part of the experiment. Most of what I was about to do involved fire, so I needed to buy some sort of kindling, oil, and fireproof bowls, clips to separate the bowls so that the fire can breath, as well as tung oil and a lighter. Looking back, perhaps the words “jerry-rig” and fire do not go particularly well with one another.
Beginning the Trials
With all my materials gathered, I began my trials. I first poured 3-4 cups of tung oil into one of the bowls, and then added the oil lamp wicks so that I could light those, which would in turn, ignite the oil. I did not use sticks or dry grass as demonstrated in the video I referenced, but I opted for a replacement. In the Hu Kai Wen factory, as you might be able to see above, they used similar-looking candle wicks to start their soot fires. I also opted to use these metal binder clips to separate the two bowls once I flipped them on top of one another. The reason for this being that these clips were cheap and accessible at target. The function they serve, as well, was to allow the fire, once started, to intake additional oxygen from the air surrounding the makeshift oven. Without it, the fire would suffocate and die.
Despite the precautions I took with the clips and separating the two bowls, I had to constantly relight the wicks around every 2-3 minutes. I figured that the flame was still not getting enough oxygen to burn for a continuous period, so I shifted the bowls a bit so that a larger part of the oil and flame would be exposed to the open air. Unfortunately, this had the distinct side effect of causing the flame to burst out around the sides of the bowls. I believe I lost a good chunk of soot from the flame because a good portion of it would simply billow from the sides of the bowl and out into the open air, and not into the top bowl, where I would have liked the soot to collect. After about an hour of trying to keep my flame from going out, I added more wicks and soon the oil started to burn without my assistance, and continued to do so constantly for about an hour and a half, to my delight and surprise. By this point, it had started to get dark, and I was receiving a myriad of suspicious glances from people walking by in the park, wondering what on earth I could be cooking on a park bench, and why it smelled like petroleum. After this final flame faded, I went to check on what it had accomplished, and discovered all the oil had burnt away, leaving a nice layer of soot on the inside and outside of the bowl. After letting the whole thing cool for about a half hour, I took everything back home and prepared to brush all the soot into a container.
As I was putting everything away, I accidently grazed the bowl, creating this deep and dark soot mark on the back of my hand. I believe this pretty clearly shows why the Chinese might have used soot as a base for their inksticks. I carefully brushed all the soot from each bowl into a small jar I purchased with an old toothbrush of mine, as per what the recipe shows. As I mentioned from earlier, I suspect a generous part of the soot burned into the air, or may have grazed other objects such as my hand. That being said, I was somewhat disappointed with the soot yield from my experiment. I went onto step 5 where I mixed the soot with water and stirred it for around twenty minutes. Unfortunately, it does not seem like the soot and water mix particularly well, with some of the smaller chunks dissolving, but many of the larger chunks insist on floating. I set it out for a night, with little to no change. Perhaps I needed to stir it a little more.
Conclusion
As it stands now, there is not much more of the recipe I can recreate without waiting around for a year or two to let the substance either dry or mix with the soot. Either way, I am decently satisfied with my results, and I have put some of the ideas I looked at in my research into practice. I believe there are a few changes that could have been made should I or someone else put in a 2nd attempt at recreating inksticks. I believe I should probably purchase a greater amount of bowls, and materials, or simply burn tung oil more often, because my yield was rather disappointing. I think in order to more consistently create the mushy mixture that is evident in the video and my other sources, I might need more of the finer powder and fewer soot chunks. Overall, though, I think my experiment was a success, considering it was a first attempt at anything of this caliber.
Inksticks are deceptively hard to make - perhaps not so for the keen of mind, but for me instead. I’ve documented my brief parlay into the world of inkstick making and came out covered in soot, however I also came out invigorated with optimism and peace of mind that I gave it a good shot. On this note, I lament to say that I did not end up fully completing an inkstick; however, I did get to experiment with fire in a public place - a victory in its own right. This cathartic feeling that overcame me was accompanied by the curious glances I received from onlookers. When I wasn’t justifying myself by saying “it’s just a school project” or “I’ve never burned myself so I must be fireproof,” I was absorbing all the knowledge that escaped my makeshift oven. I have found ink-making, at least the part that I can reasonably manage, to be fun and edifying. If I were to make another attempt, there would almost certainly be things about the process I would change. Perhaps I may give it another shot soon enough.
Works Cited
ChinaViewTV. MyStoryWithChina: Making Chinese Inksticks. YouTube, Xinhua, 19 Oct. 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVH59VvPAGA&t=89s
Feng, Jiao. “Zhou Meihong: Everlasting Ink.” China Today, vol. 62, no. 8, Aug. 2013, pp. 62–64., https://doi.org/http://libproxy.wustl.edu/login?url=https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=89336132&site=ehost-live&scope=site
Luo, Yuan 罗雁. “Inkstick Recipes through History.” Inkston, 11 Oct. 2017, https://www.inkston.com/stories/guides/inkstick-recipes/.
Wei, Shuya. “Identification of the Materials Used in an Eastern Jin Chinese Ink Stick.” Journal of Cultural Heritage, vol. 13, no. 4, 12 Feb. 2012, pp. 448–452.
Winter, John. “Chinese Ink.” Expedition Magazine Chinese Ink Comments, Penn Museum, 16 Mar. 1989, https://www.penn.museum/sites/expedition/chinese-ink/.
"松烟制墨法." Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository. Song Yingxing. 31 Oct 2015. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:松烟制墨法.jpg
