Saturday, 27 December 2014
ARTouch Interview: The British Museum Ming: 50 years that changed China
ARTouch Consulting interviewed Ms. Jan Stuart (Keeper of Asia Department of British Museum) and one of the two curators of the exhibition Ms. Jessica Harrison-Hall. The interview transcripts is on Beijing Youth Daily http://www.artouchconsulting.com/2318...
Friday, 26 December 2014
TV Review "Marco Polo"
Indiewood/ Hollywoodn't December 17, 2014
“Marco Polo” the series follows Marco’s (Lorenzo Richelmy) early years with Kublai (Benedict Wong), beginning with his conscription into the Mongolian imperial court. The pilot depicts Marco’s initial conscription as an imprisonment: Marco’s greedy, merchant father Niccolo (Pierfrancesco Favino) sells a bewildered teenage Marco into Kublai’s “service” (i.e. slavery) in exchange for permission to conduct business along the Great Khan’s famed trade network, the Silk Road. Apparently, blood is not thicker than trade routes. A betrayed and stupefied Marco – who only recently met dear old dad for the first time – is promptly stripped and tossed in a Mongolian cell. Thanks, pops.
‘Marco Polo,’ Netflix’s shiny new epic, may not live up to the lofty, unfair “Game of Thrones”comparisons foisted on it by the media. But the young property, created by showrunner John Fusco, still gets a lot right in its eminently watchable, dramatically flawed first season. “Marco Polo” is easily Netflix’s most ambitious production to date, featuring a massive budget and epic scope. The young show offers spectacular production values, sumptuous world-building, riveting set pieces, and a cast of game actors who inhabit compelling, if underdeveloped characters.
Perhaps more importantly, “Marco Polo” the show does for TV what Marco Polo the man did for Europe: It introduces the East to the West. For the first time, a mainstream, high-profile American TV series explores Asian history, politics, and culture, while employing an almost fully Asian cast. While this makes “Marco Polo” both impressive and important, the show’s various compelling elements do not yet cohere into a dramatically satisfying whole. The season’s narrative eventually frays and loses momentum due to unrigorous story logic and inconsistent character motivation.
Most Americans probably know Marco Polo from that really fun swimming pool game he invented. But it turns out, Marco was also a merchant traveler who spent over twenty years in the famed court of Mongol Emperor Kublai Khan. Marco eventually returned to Italy and relayed his Eastern experiences to the Western World through his famous writings, which still exist today.
“Marco Polo” the series follows Marco’s (Lorenzo Richelmy) early years with Kublai (Benedict Wong), beginning with his conscription into the Mongolian imperial court. The pilot depicts Marco’s initial conscription as an imprisonment: Marco’s greedy, merchant father Niccolo (Pierfrancesco Favino) sells a bewildered teenage Marco into Kublai’s “service” (i.e. slavery) in exchange for permission to conduct business along the Great Khan’s famed trade network, the Silk Road. Apparently, blood is not thicker than trade routes. A betrayed and stupefied Marco – who only recently met dear old dad for the first time – is promptly stripped and tossed in a Mongolian cell. Thanks, pops.
Many in the court react to Marco with fear and loathing, derisively referring to him as “The Latin.” Yet Kublai is taken with his new toy, charmed by the novelty of having a “round-eyed” European in his court and also by Marco’s intelligence, honesty, curiosity, and eloquence (in many languages, including Mongolian). Kublai has Marco trained in the ways of the court: horse riding, calligraphy, dress, manner, etc. Marco is even given a fight-mentor, Hundred Eyes (Tom Wu), who is equal parts Pai Mei from “Kill Bill,” Syrio Forel from “Game of Thrones,” and Denzel from “Book of Eli.” Hundred Eyes trains Marco in swordplay, archery, Kung Fu, and general bad-assery, all while being completely blind (if that sounds preposterous, Wu sells it better than Denzel did). Oh, by the way, this show has Kung Fu – a ton of it. If the series is part Eastern ‘Game of Thrones,’ then the other part is ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ – a film which clearly inspires the superb choreography, editing, and overall aesthetic of “Marco Polo’s” myriad epic fight sequences.
Marco rises in Kublai’s court, arousing the ire and jealousy of insecure Crown Prince Jingim (Remy Hii)and scheming finance minister Ahmad (Mahesh Jadu). Marco navigates the court’s tricky political waters while gaining military and diplomatic responsibilities, before eventually finding himself in some major jeopardy late in the season – partially due to his own hubris and partially due to the political forces aligned against him. Along the way, Marco befriends Kublai’s bastard son Byamba (Uli Latukefu), beds Byamba’s eventual love interest, Warrior Princess Khutulun (Claudia Kim), and falls hard for the mysterious “Blue Princess” Kokachin (Zhu Zhu), who is harboring a dangerous secret of her own.
If all that sounds a bit meandering and unfocused… well, it is. Marco may be the show’s titular character and protagonist, but he doesn’t have an abundance of agency or drive. Similar to the protagonist of another hot Netflix property, “Orange is the New Black,” Marco often functions as a passive observer on his own show, bearing witness to the maneuverings of more powerful and driven individuals than himself (much as the real Marco Polo did).
The season’s true narrative anchor is Kublai’s relentless quest to overthrow the Song Dynasty, thus uniting all of China and Mongolia under his rule. The Emperors and armies of the Song Dynasty have resisted the Khan’s attacks for over thirty years, shrewdly hiding behind their massive, impenetrable city wall. Kublai loses patience as the season progresses and becomes single-mindedly determined to break down the Song’s wall or die trying.
When the Song’s elderly emperor dies, villainous chancellor Jia Sidao (Chin Han) seizes power and steers the Song Dynasty towards open warfare with the Khan. Sidao is such a moustache-twirling, war-mongering baddie that he orders his own peace envoy slaughtered, framing the Khan for the deed, to ensure war with Mongolia and consolidate political power. If that’s not evil enough, the good Chancellor also sends his own sister, imperial consort Mei Lin (Olivia Cheng), on an undercover suicide mission to Kublai’s famed pleasure dome; Naturally, Sidao forces his sister into capitulation by threatening and even torturing her young daughter, graphically breaking the girl’s feet on screen.
While Mei Lin tries to keep her daughter alive by becoming the Khan’s favorite concubine and spying for her brother, Sidao fights a two front war: a military war against the Mongols and a political war within his own walls against the Empress Dowager (Tan Kheng Hua) – wife of the late Song Emperor. The show’s various power players make their moves – some die, some don’t – eventually culminating in an exciting, cinematic climactic battle between Mongol and Song.
Kublai’s war with the Song is overly predictable and revels in well-worn plot beats, but nevertheless provides “Marco Polo” with a much-needed dramatic foundation to structure the season around. The story is elevated by “Marco Polo’s” impressive recreation of ancient Mongolia and Song China. The show’s meticulous set and costume design immerses viewers in a lavish, fully realized historical backdrop. The show’s evocative portrayal of Kublai’s famed palace, imperial city, and pleasure dome will be catnip for history buffs.
The writers and actors have also created a host of distinct, compelling characters to build a series around. As Marco, Mr. Richelmy is eminently likeable, exuding charm, intellectual curiosity, and magnanimity. Marco is our clear identification point as a Westerner being immersed in an exotic Eastern kingdom. This technique (thrusting an outsider into a unique new culture) is a classic way to structure a pilot, since it allows for natural world-building and exposition, as various characters explain the culture’s rules and values to the outsider (and, by extension, to the audience). We learn about the Great Khan’s realm as Marco does.
Mr. Wong imbues the Khan with the requisite gravitas, charisma, and egomania expected of such a legendary historical figure. The Khan is also complex and fascinating: On the one hand, he’s amazingly tolerant of all religions and cultures, welcoming them into his kingdom; on the other, he’s a ruthless, megalomaniacal, shockingly brutal conqueror. That brutality becomes increasingly evident as the season progresses, and the Khan loses himself in his war. Hii and Latukefu give solid, evocative turns as Kublai’s sons Jingim and Byamba. Latukefu captures Byamba’s loyalty and ferocity, while Hii palpably conveys the backbreaking emotional pressure of growing up as the heir to the Mongolian Empire.
But the show’s women are the ones who really stand out. Ms. Cheng is captivating as Mei Lin – a famed concubine with secret deadly Kung Fu prowess. Mei Lin is gifted with the most compelling story line of the season’s first half, as she scrambles to save her daughter by entrenching herself undercover in Kublai’s pleasure dome. Joan Chen is commanding, cunning, thoughtful, and manipulative, yet somehow still likeable as Empress Chabi – the Khan’s favorite wife (and also one of his chief advisors). And Claudia Kim inhabits Warrior Princess Khutulun with vivaciousness and energy, though the material doesn’t provide Kim with a storyline worthy of her performance – Khutulun spends much of the season wrestling (yes, literally) random guys and flirting with Byamba. Zhu Zhu is endearing and vulnerable as Blue Princess Kokachin, but like Kim, Zhu Zhu hasn’t been utilized in a coherent or dramatically satisfying story.
Unfortunately, “Marco Polo’s” large cast, sweeping scope, and abbreviated 10-episode 1st season make it tough for the show to explore many of these characters with an abundance of depth. Future seasons will need to dig deeper beneath the surface of these compelling yet under-explored characters. Sidhao is particularly one-note as the season’s principal antagonist, and Chin Han’s sneering performance frequently lets the character descend into cardboard villainy.
In addition, a number of characters lack clear and convincing motivation, undermining realism. For instance, Marco’s steadfast loyalty to the Khan is under-explained and tough to believe, particularly late in the season after he’s witnessed the Khan’s brutality firsthand. It’s also hard to understand Marco’s complete infatuation with the Blue Princess; he seems to be hopelessly in love with her, despite barely knowing or interacting with her. This makes their romance difficult to invest in. More egregiously, late in the season, a minor, thinly developed character inexplicably sacrifices his life to save a prominent character he barely knows from execution, without any clear rhyme or reason. This resolves a key plotline with an artificial deus ex machina, rather than an organic, dramatically satisfying resolution.
Where “Marco Polo” really falls short of “Thrones” is its lack of commitment to rigorous story logic. “Marco Polo” constantly realigns its political power structure without letting viewers know how or why these changes have taken place. For instance, Sidhao’s growing political civil war with the Dowager Empress seems to shift at random: In one episode, Sidhao has all the power, leaving the Empress begging for scraps; in the next episode, Sidhao is being pushed out the door, forcing him to execute a daring gambit to reclaim power; at the start of the next episode, he’s already lost that power again, without explanation; in another episode, he gets all his power back by defeating the right person in Kung Fu. The show fails to provide viewers with enough basic clarity or consistent logic to understand why events unfold as they do, making the show’s court intrigue and political story lines difficult to invest in.
The show’s lack of clarity and rigorous logic undermines individual scenes, as well as whole plotlines. For instance, in one scene, two of the show’s most accomplished Kung Fu masters are engaged in an epic fight; in the next scene, the characters have somehow gone their separate ways unharmed, without explanation, despite the fact that one of them was under explicit orders to assassinate the other. Logic gaps like this will undermine an audience’s immersion in the story.
“Marco Polo” has drawn a ton of heat for its abundance of nudity, sex, and “sexposition,” just as its supposed progenitor “Game of Thrones” once did. While “Marco Polo’s” nudity may be a touch excessive, especially early in the season, the writers have every right to explore Kublai’s famed, fascinating pleasure dome, which the historical Polo discussed in his writings – and frankly, there’s no way to do this without a whole bunch of sex and nudity.
I’ll say one last thing about the media’s ubiquitous “Thrones” comparisons, which I have now clearly perpetuated, and then be done with it. “Game of Thrones” is not the only show to revel in medieval-style warfare, politics, and court intrigue; it’s merely the best. And if every new series, like “Marco Polo,” found itself instantly compared to the best show ever in its chosen genre, the disappointment would be inevitable and sweeping across the television landscape—at least to those parties making these hasty, unfair comparisons.
Overall, “Marco Polo” offers meticulous yet decadent world-building, stirring performances, and a whole lot of action, sex, violence, politics, and intrigue. The writers have established a strong foundation for the series and can hopefully use season 2 to dig deeper into the characters, while applying clearer, more rigorous logic to its political story lines.
– Jason Teich
East Asian History in new electronic form
Welcome to East Asian History in its new electronic form. East Asian History is an international refereed journal publishing scholarly research on all aspects of historical studies in East Asia. This new online format enables authors to include sound and film files and photomedia within their articles, enlarging the journal’s scope into fields of historical documentation, such as cinema or music history, previously limited by print publishing.
This online form of East Asian History is a collaboration between The Australian Centre on China in the World at the Australian National Universityand the Leiden University Institute of Area Studies at Leiden University in The Netherlands, and is jointly edited by Remco Breuker (Leiden) and Benjamin Penny (ANU). The editorial board comprises three scholars from each university: Geremie R. Barmé (ANU), Katarzyna Cwiertka (Leiden), Roald Maliangkay (ANU), Ivo Smits (Leiden), Tessa Morris-Suzuki (ANU) and Barend ter Haar (Leiden).
East Asian History was published in print from 1991 to 2008 (issues 1-36), and was edited by Geremie R. Barmé (to 2007), and Benjamin Penny (from 2007). The journal’s predecessor, Papers on Far Eastern History, was published by The Australian National University’s Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies from 1970 to 1990. When Papers on Far Eastern Historybecame East Asian History the new journal employed an original and striking format that the new online version of the journal has adapted and developed in the new medium.
East Asian History will be published twice each year. Articles published in the journal are submitted to double-blind peer review unless otherwise stated. Final selection of papers is at the discretion of the editors.
To cite this journal, please use page numbers from the PDF versions.
Contact us
East Asian History
Australian Centre on China in the World
ANU College of Asia and the Pacific
Building 188
Fellows Lane
ANU ACT 0200
eastasianhistory@anu.edu.au
Australian Centre on China in the World
ANU College of Asia and the Pacific
Building 188
Fellows Lane
ANU ACT 0200
eastasianhistory@anu.edu.au
East Asian History ISSN: 1839-9010
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Issue No.39, December 2014
1000-year-old Chinese mummy gets CT scan in Holland
NLTimes.nl December 9, 2014 by Janene van Jaarsveldt
Picture: Jan van Esch / Meander Medisch Centrum
A special examination recently occurred in the Meander Medical Center. A nearly 1,000 year old mummy received a CT scan and had samples taken with an endoscope. Several hospital employees helped with this unique project in their free time.
Picture: Jan van Esch / Meander Medisch Centrum
The leader of this study is the Amersfoort resident Erik Bruijn, an expert in the field of Buddhist art and culture and guest curator at the World Museum in Rotterdam. Gastrointestinal and liver doctor Reinoud Vermeijden and radiologist Ben Heggelman received the Chinese mummy at the hospital for internal examination on September 3rd. The mummy was part of the Mummies exhibition earlier this year and dates from the 11th or 12th century.
The mummy is the mummified body of the Buddhist master Liuquan, who belonged to the Chinese Meditation School. The discovery of the mummy is of great cultural significance. It is not only the only one of its kind, but also the only Chinese Buddhist mummy that is available for scientific research in the West.
Picture: Jan van Esch / Meander Medisch Centrum
With an endoscope made specially available by Surgical Technologies in Didam, Vermeijden took samples of a yet unidentified material and examined the thoracic and abdominal cavities. He made a spectacular discovery – among all kinds of rotten material in the space where there had one been organs, he found paper scraps that are printed with ancient Chinese characters. Heggelman took a CT scan that beautifully shows how the mummy looks inside and took samples of bone material for DNA testing.
The research will be published in the monograph that will appear on Master Liuquan. The mummy has since been taken to Hungary where it will be on display at the National Museum of Natural History in Budapest until May 2015.
Thursday, 25 December 2014
Grave from a Mongol noble Korguz from the Yuan Dynasty
From: The Royal Society 8 December 2014
Identification of kinship and occupant status in Mongolian noble burials of the Yuan Dynasty through a multidisciplinary approach
ABSTRACT
The Yuan Dynasty (AD 1271–1368) was the first dynasty in Chinese history where a minority ethnic group (Mongols) ruled. Few cemeteries containing Mongolian nobles have been found owing to their tradition of keeping burial grounds secret and their lack of historical records. Archaeological excavations at the Shuzhuanglou site in the Hebei province of China led to the discovery of 13 skeletons in six separate tombs. The style of the artefacts and burials indicate the cemetery occupants were Mongol nobles. However, the origin, relationships and status of the chief occupant (M1m) are unclear. To shed light on the identity of the principal occupant and resolve the kin relationships between individuals, a multidisciplinary approach was adopted, combining archaeological information, stable isotope data and molecular genetic data. Analysis of autosomal, mitochondrial and Y-chromosomal DNA show that some of the occupants were related. The available evidence strongly suggests that the principal occupant may have been the Mongol noble Korguz. Our study demonstrates the power of a multidisciplinary approach in elucidating information about the inhabitants of ancient historical sites.
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
A life lived among tombs memorised
Feng Qili spent his life studying those of the dead.
Specifically, he devoted himself to researching Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) tombs.
The 65-year-old self-taught expert on Manchu ethnic studies died on Nov 24, about five months after the publication of his latest book, Visiting Tombs of the Qing Dynasty in Beijing's Suburbs.
The books features 146 visits to Qing tombs belonging to royal families, prestigious officials and generals, and detailed information about the tombs' occupants.
"Feng was ethnically Han but was the first person to systematically study the Qing's Manchu imperial tombs," Beijing History Geography and Folklore Society secretary and Feng's friend of 30 years Chang Hua says.
"He's highly respected by the Aisin Gioro families, whose forebearers founded the empire."
Feng was born in Beijing in 1949 and worked at a refrigerator factory after high school.
He never attended university but devoted himself to higher learning.
He became an informal student of cultural scholar and historian Zheng Gongdun in 1978 and began to research the Qing era. He was drawn to the Qing tombs, which nobody had studied.
There were 12 Qing emperors and hundreds of royal family members buried in Beijing's suburbs. Their tombs were neglected and ravaged by the elements after the dynasty fell in 1911. Even the royal families' descendants forgot them.
In 1983, Feng began surveying the tombs during his spare time.
He pored over hundreds of historical documents and maps, and scoured every remote corner of the suburbs hunting for forgotten tombs.
When he found one, he'd consult scholars, descendants of the royal families and elderly villagers to confirm the occupant's identity. Pujie, the younger brother of China's last emperor, Puyi, told his family to help Feng.
Feng published his initial findings in his first book, Royal Tombs of Princes in the Qing Dynasty, in 1996. The book was celebrated by academics and the royals' descendants, many of whom consulted Feng to determine their genealogies.
Jin Cheng, the 14th-generation grandson of the dynasty's founder Nurhaci Aisin Gioro, hails Feng as "the imperial clan's living court", referencing a royal institution responsible for chronicling the Qing's genealogy during the dynasty.
Culture scholar and Feng's longtime friend Yang Haishan recalls: "He always said: 'I'm not an expert. I'm just an ordinary worker who enjoys studying the Qing Dynasty'."
Feng took a job at the Beijing Municipal Archives in 2000. He published another book, Visiting Royal Residences in Beijing, in 2006.
Feng continued his research after his 2012 retirement.
His student, Guo Yan, says: "He went to the Capital Library every day. So I always knew where to find him when I wanted to consult him. He was very kind. He put on no airs."
Chinese Commission for the International Council on Monuments and Sites member Zeng Yizhi says Feng collected many documents about the residences of individuals celebrated during the Qing period that are crucial to Beijing's heritage preservation.
"The best way to commemorate Feng is to edit and publish his unfinished works under his name," Zeng says.
"This enables more people to share his work. It provides a guide for those who come after him and continue his studies."
xingyi@chinadaily.com.cn
Tuesday, 23 December 2014
The powerful steppe empires of Central Asia were bound together by silken thread
Bridge on the 3,798-metre-high Baroghil Pass, leading from Badakhshan in Afghanistan to northern Pakistan
It is difficult to fault this remarkable volume. The publishers have created a book of quality with stunning illustrations and lucid maps. It will, I believe, become a standard reference for all who study the complex history of Central Asia and the Silk Road.
This is the second volume in Christoph Baumer’s projected four-book series on Central Asia and shows its author to be an extraordinary person, whose skills encompass those of an explorer, a geographer, a historian, an archaeologist and a photographer. Moreover, in each of these exacting disciplines he is no amateur. He displays the rare qualities of both an academic and a man of action. His sparkling prose ensures that the armchair traveller will not nod off.
He starts with the creation of the early Central Asian empires, their collapse and replacement by subsequent kingdoms. These imperial histories are interlaced with a complex migration of peoples and lead on to the establishment of the powerful Sogdian kingdom, the foundation of Samarkand and the more recent migrations of Turkic nomads. Tibet is shown as a major power, influencing, through battles and Buddhism, vast sections of the Silk Road. Then Islam appears and its effect upon the old Silk Road oases in Xinjiang is still with us today.
These empires, peoples and their religions formed strategic outposts along the Silk Road, that vast trading highway, which for centuries connected diverse and far-flung sedentary empires. This commercial network expanded as rapid economic growth was generated by one imperial dynasty after another.
Perhaps the most important of all the many commodities which were carried along these frequently dangerous highways was in fact silk. Highly valued as a material in Europe, partly because lice could not obtain a foothold, it also served as a currency for such varied activities as the payment of salaries, the purchase of horses and for tribute to gain entrance into nomadic empires. As such, the Silk Roads became tribute routes, and silk played an essential role in weaving together the powerful steppe empires of Central Asia. Little wonder China jealousy guarded the mysteries of its manufacture until, so the story goes, a Chinese princess inadvertently gave the secret away in the powerful state of Khotan, south of the Taklamakan desert, some time around the third century AD.
It is in the Taklamakan that Baumer has made his own spectacular archaeological finds, notably an Iron Age cemetery and the only stone inscription in the Central Asian Gandhari language. He also found the only known Han dynasty watchtower in the interior of the desert of Lop.
Because of the author’s personal engagement his book exudes authority. Not unnaturally, a large section of the book concentrates on the Taklamakan desert and the desert of Lop, which from this reviewer’s experience are the harshest in the world. It was in these deserts, and especially in the ancient city of Lou Lan, that the Swedish explorer Sven Hedin and the British archaeologist Aurel Stein made some of their greatest finds. These have contributed to much of our primary knowledge concerning the migration of peoples and the shift of imperial fortunes on this section of the Silk Road.
I have only only one criticism. Baumer does not give due credit to the Bactrian camel, for thousands of years the ‘ship of the desert’ along huge stretches of the Silk Road. He states that in the area of the lake of Lop Nur ‘no animal can survive in this waterless wasteland’. Well, not quite. I found numerous footprints of the incredible, wild double-humped camel on the dried-up lakebed — and they appeared in Lou Lan too, one of the bleakest places on earth.
Available from the Spectator Bookshop, £21.50 Tel: 08430 600033
This article first appeared in the print edition of The Spectator magazine, dated 13 December 2014
Monday, 22 December 2014
The site of ancient Sizhou city rediscovered
Chinese Archaeologists have completed excavating the site of the ancient city of Sizhou in Xuyi county in East China's Jiangsu province.
They confirmed the structure and layout of the lost city, known as "the oriental Pompeii" and say that it covered more than 2000 square meters.
Historical data suggests Sizhou was a flourishing city with a history of more than 900 years. But the city, located in the intersection of three of the largest rivers in China - the Yangtze River, the Yellow River and the Huaihe River - was buried after a massive flood, during the reign of Emperor Kangxi from the Qing Dynasty.
Experts say Sizhou is perhaps better preserved than the Roman city of Pompeii, which was buried in volcanic ash.
The inner city wall of Sizhou extends to almost 340 meters, while the outer city wall is about 130 meters in length.
Sunday, 21 December 2014
Uzbekistan rediscovers lost culture in the craft of Silk Road paper makers
Zarif Mukhtarov holds the fibre of mulberry bark, used as a raw material in his Samarkand paper-making workshop. Photographs: Komila Nabiyeva
Zarif Mukhtarov's dream came true. He is standing in front of his workshop in the village of Koni Ghil, 5km from the Uzbek city of Samarkand. His eyes shine with pride as he tells his story. Mukhtarov, 58, had tried for years to discover the lost art of Samarkand paper-making. Today, visitors to one of the only workshops for handmade paper in Central Asia can learn the secrets of a 1,000-year-old production process.
Samarkand paper was renowned for its quality. Many Persian and Arabic manuscripts of the ninth and 10th centuries were written on it. "The world's best paper is produced in Samarkand," wrote Babur, a descendant of the Central Asian ruler Tamerlane and founder of the Mughal dynasty in India in the 16th century.
It was betrayal that brought the paper-making craft to Samarkand. In the year 751 the Chinese invaded Central Asia, but the ruler of Samarkand defeated their troops and captured many thousands of soldiers. To save their lives, the story goes, craftsmen among the captives revealed their knowledge of paper-making to their captors. From then on, Samarkand became a centre for paper production. But following Russian colonisation of the Silk Road city in the 19th century and the start of industrial production, the ancient recipe got lost.
In 1995 Mukhtarov, a professional ceramist, took part in a UN conference dedicated to lost culture in Uzbekistan. Samarkand paper was one of the topics, and he started to dream of rediscovering how to make it. After five years of experiments with cotton, rag waste and flax, Mukhtarov became convinced that the best paper was made from the bark of the mulberry tree, which grows all over Samarkand.
In 2001 he started to build his own paper workshop. Some funding was provided by US and Japanese foundations, but most of the money was invested by Mukhtarov himself.
"At first my friends thought I was insane," he recalls. "My wife scolded me regularly. We had to [save enough money to] marry both our children and I kept borrowing money for the workshop. At the end, I had to sell our car and my wife's gold jewellery to finish the construction."
Paper made at Mukhtarov's workshop
Today the paper workshop is a must-see site for tourists coming to Uzbekistan. Mukhtarov has no website and does not advertise. Yet, each year some 5,000 visitors seek out his picturesque mud-brick workshop with a chattering wooden watermill by the Siyob river. The location was no coincidence; once, there were 400 watermills around Samarkand, many of them in Koni Ghil, Mukhtarov says.
Visitors find a variety of products: silk-like or hairy paper in cream, blue, yellow or pink; notepads and wallets; even puppets and masks. All of them are made of paper. Mukhtarov's workers even produce Uzbek costumes with traditional embroidery.
Despite this, the workshop hardly makes ends meet. The high season lasts only six months, and Mukhtarov has to pay his 10 employees throughout the year. Then there is a cultural problem: newly trained young female employees often quit once they are married, as it is uncommon for married women in Uzbek villages to retain paid jobs.
Initially the paper workshop was a project of a small arts NGO founded by Mukhtarov. Yet, after the 2005 bloody unrest in the eastern town of Andijan, the Uzbek government closed hundreds of NGOs with foreign funding and Mukhtarov's was one of them. He had to register as a business, a move he thinks has helped: "In the past we were dependent on grants. Now we have more freedom in investing our money."
Even so, Mukhtarov has to deal with state bureaucracy in securing crucial raw materials. At first he had to apply every year for a permit to buy mulberry branches from a farmer and was once accused of illegally cutting them (mulberry trees are vital for silkworms and are therefore controlled by the Uzbek state). But Mukhtarov is tenacious. Now he grows his own trees on leased land.
Puppets made from Samarkand paper
In his workshop, Mukhtarov strips the inner bark from a year-old mulberry branch. "After boiling for five hours the bark fibre becomes soft and can be pounded into the paper pulp by the watermill," he explains. "Then we add the pulp to water." The pulp is taken out with a sieve and once it has dried, the paper is then put under press for 24 hours.
Finally, each sheet of paper is polished with a shell. Mukhtarov believes the polishing stage was introduced by Samarkand craftsmen: "In China and Japan the paper was rough, as people wrote with a brush. And in Central Asia one wrote with a feather, and therefore needed a smooth paper."
In contrast to industrially produced paper with its lifespan of around a century, he reckons his will last 2,000 years. It is also protected from mice, which cannot digest mulberry bark.
In future Mukhtarov hopes to expand his production and open a small restaurant next to his workshop, but that is a dream for another day. He smiles: "You have to have a clear vision of what you want to achieve. And then never give up until this vision comes true."
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