Taiwan Today

A visit to a Chinese temple is al­ways a fascinating experience because there is so much to catch the eye, from sloping roofs supported by complex arrangements of beams, to intricately carved and painted walls, to the mass of worshippers crowding the nagstone courtyards. But what meanings lie behind these statues, carvings, and other artifacts? Finding out can be a frustrating experience. Most temples are extraordinarily complicated structures, and they are saturated with symbolism.

If it is any comfort, Chinese wor­shippers themselves are often hard pressed to explain the design and contents of any given temple. Questions about a certain wall carving or statue may elicit a general reply about a scene from an an­cient novel or the name of a folk god, but oftentimes not much more. Temple ar­chitecture, iconography, and symbolism are extremely complex. And since Chi­nese religion is basically open and egali­tarian, it is common to find a temple honoring many gods and spirits besides the temple's primary deity.

One way to begin understanding the parts of any temple is to focus on particu­lar parts, such as doorways, beams, or wall carvings—and the Tsushih temple in Sanhsia, a southwestern suburb of Taipei, is an excellent place to start such an un­dertaking. The temple was originally constructed in honor of a historical folk hero, Chen Chou-yin, who tried to rally forces 10 save the Sung dynasty from the invading Mongols in the thirteenth cen­tury. Although unsuccessful, Chen's deed, were remembered, and during the Ming dynasty (1368-1644), a temple was built in his honor in his home province of Fukien. Two hundred year, ago, when many Fukien residents moved to Taiwan, the Tsushih temple in Sanhsia was built in Chen's honor. But today, its altars also honor a whole panoply of Buddhist saints and folk gods.

Filled with rich and exquisite carv­ing, the two-hundred-year-old temple has been undergoing extensive renovation and expansion for the past forty-four years. Visitors can watch some of Tai­wan's best craftsmen in wood and stone in the actual process of construction and decoration. While the basic floor plan of Tsushih follows the inner and outer courtyard arrangement found in most temples, its interior is especially ornate, even for Chinese temples. A close look at the intricately carved structural and decorative elements can provide consid­erable insight into Chinese culture, espe­cially its history, literature, folklore, and aesthetics. The carved scenes at Tsushih also illustrate how Chinese temples tend to promote traditional social and ethical values, such as loyalty, chastity, filial pi­ety, and patriotism, instead of focusing on distinctly religious values.

According to Wang Ching-tai (王慶臺), head of the sculpture depart­ment at the National Taiwan Academy of Arts, stone and woodcarving share the same roots. They are based on the shapes of and decorations on ancient utensils, musical instruments, and other early Chinese artifacts. "The basic structure of temples was formed early in the Warring States period [403-222 B.C.] he says. "After two thousand years of evolution, as more folklore elements were assimilated, they have become more varied and com­plex."

Wang, who has authored several books on Taiwan's stone and woodcarv­ing arts, divides traditional subjects for temple carvings into four categories: fig­ures of people, gods, and fairies; birds and flowers; wild and domesticated animals; and decorative designs such as auspicious symbols and patterns. "These motifs are popular because they reflect the Chinese love of both a festive mood and their pastoral milieu," he says. No less popular are dramatic and martial scenes taken from religious tales, mythology, popular legends, fairy tales, and both folk and classical literature.

"In China's traditional agricultural society," Wang adds, "operas and puppet shows were common events at temple festivals. It was natural for temple carvers to adapt what they saw into their work. The plays had a strong influence on how the carver portrayed a figure and arranged various scenes."

Since dramatic productions of all sorts were usually based upon religious and historical stories, carvers would also draw inspiration from reading the illus­trated promptbooks used by actors, pup­peteers, and Chinese storytellers. Thus, temple carvers used scenes from novels known to all Chinese, educated or not. The most popular are the Romance of the Three Kingdoms (about war and chivalry in the third century A.D.), The Journey to the West (a lengthy religious allegory­—full of romance, fantasy, humor, and sat­ire—about a Buddhist monk and his three animal disciples on a journey to India for religious scriptures), and The Water Margin (a fictional work about a band of bandit heroes in the twelfth century). As a result, temple pillars, walls, ceilings, and beams are covered with figures ranging from emperors and generals to scholars and commoners.

The most common source for the wall and pillar carvings at Tsushih temple is the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a historical narrative that chronicles the struggle between the ancient states of Wei, Shu, and Wu for control of the dis­integrating Han empire from 222 to 265 A.D. Probably the most popular classic novel in China, the story is a mixture of fact and fiction, and is frequently adapted in popular theater.

"In Chinese society, The Three Kingdoms has been an important source for maintaining social stability," Wang says. "The messages it carries, such as loyalty, brotherhood, friendship, and righteousness, serve as ethical standards for the common people. The novel is well-entrenched in the popular mind." The strong personality traits of the major characters have over the centuries made them models to imitate or to disdain. Some are paragons of loyalty, others are masters of strategy and tactics, and still others are examples of ambition and cleverness or villainy and wickedness.

Although the major characters in this novel are stereotyped in operas and pup­ pet shows, plenty of space remained for carvers to use their own imagination. Oftentimes they have focused on key scenes where there are dramatic confron­tations among the main characters. Ex­cellent examples of this can be found at Tsushih temple.

The temple's main entrance is flanked by two smaller doors. Together they are called the "three rivers gate." illus­trating the wind and water imagery that is an essential aspect of temple architecture. On the adjacent walls are intricately carved stone panels that draw from dif­ferent chapters of The Three Kingdona.

For example, high on the wall by the en­trance on the right is a scene called "The Three Brothers Fight Against Lu Pu."

The bas-relief carving dramatizes the fight between three sworn brothers and Lu Pu, a brave general and a loyal subject of the Han dynasty. Tsao Tsao, the fa­mous general and Han dynasty prime minister known for his military strategy, cleverness, and quick temper, was planning to overthrow the remnants of the Han dynasty. The three brothers were among Tsao's troops and encountered Lu Pu at a frontier pass. At first, Tsao's troops faltered, and were miserably defeated. Later, the three brothers united force" and to­gether won the battle against Lu and his army. In the carving, Lu Pu stand" on the far left side, fighting the three "worn brother", who stand in a line to the right. Around the four are other warriors in the midst of battle.

Below "The Three Brothers, " an­other "tone panel depicts the episode. "Huang Kai Accepts a Punishment." The story is about a tactical trick whereby a person secure" another's trust by intentionally injuring himself. In this case, it was the general Tsao Tsao who was deceived. When Tsao's huge army threat­ened to invade the State of Wu, the state's prime minister devised a scheme to meet the impending crisis. In front of a messenger from Tsao, he argued with one of the Wu's best generals over a feigned insult, and then had him savagely beaten. Later, the badly injured general sneaked to Tsao Tsao' s camp to fake surrender. Fooled by the ploy, Tsao was then lured into a tactical error, which led to hundreds of his war boats being destroyed by fire.

At the center of the carving stands Chou Yu, the prime minister of Wu, in elaborate formal dress. The faithful gen­eral, Huang Kai, lies facing the ground on the left. To his left are court ministers and guards who will administer the beating, and on the right are other well-known characters from the novel.

To the right of "The Three Brothers" is a work portraying "A Banquet in the Bronze Bird Pavilion," another famous scene in The Three Kingdoms. To cele­brate the completion of a spectacularly beautiful pavilion, Tsao arranged a ban­quet for his civil and military officials. As part of the entertainment, he had a rampart set up for an archery contest in which five generals were to compete. A red warrior's gown of rich red silk was hung above the target, and Tsao promised to award it to the one general who could hit the bull's eye.

But all the generals succeeded, and when they rushed to claim the prime, it was torn to shreds. Pleased with their skill, Tsao then awarded each general a bolt of precious silk brocade. The stone carving shows Tsao high on the right side of the panel, sitting and watching his five generals, shooting. The generals stand in line at the center, and the target and the robe are at the left.

Many carvers also like to portray the Eight Immortals of Taoism. Most of the immortals were originally humans, but later achieved their elevated state after unexpected encounters with gods disguised in human form. They were en­dowed with supernatural power with which they help the weak and aid the needy. Popular subjects in painting as well, each of the immortals can be identi­fied by the distinct implement he carries: a fish-shaped drum, sword, flute, lotus, gourd, fan, Yin- Yang plate, or a basket.

At Tsushih temple, representations of the eight immortals, usually depicted in pairs, can be found on the large wall pan­els near the side gates of the temple en­trance. Some of these stone carving are among the best in the whole temple.

The woodcarvings in Tsushih temple are no less impressive than the works in stone. Even before visitors pass through the main doors, the intricately carved eaves and roof supports overhead indicate the temple is a rich lode of craftsmanship. One of the best woodcarvings is the "longevity beam" (shou liang 壽樑), the center horizontal beam above the main door. The carving depicts a Buddhist scene. At the center sits the Buddha, with two well-known saints standing at his right and left. Flanking them on both sides are a total of eighteen arhats, disciples appointed to bear witness to the Buddha­ Truth and help save the world. In spite of limited space, the small carved figures have distinctive features and particularly realistic facial expressions.

At both ends of the horizontal shou liang are vertical wood panels, called shu tsai (豎材), which serve to hide the con­necting joints of the various roof support beams. Throughout the temple, these panels provide additional space for intri­cate carvings, frequently portraying famous figures in ancient Chinese my­thology. Right below them are triangle­ shaped "sparrow braces," (chuch ti 雀替), which help stabilize the structure and also soften the right angle formed by the beams. As with other beams and sup­port elements, the surfaces are intricately carved or painted, with scenes also drawn from popular literature.

For example, in the West Gate Hall of the temple are two famous martial epi­sodes from the Investitures of the Gods, a novel attributed to Lu Hsi-hsing, a Ming dynasty Taoist priest in the mid-sixteenth century. The legendary story, set in the Chou dynasty three millennia ago, is called "Three Fairies Set Up a Battlefieid near the Yellow River." It concerns the ruler of the Chou dynasty, his generals, and Chiang Tzu-ya, a character noted for his great wisdom. The picture shows Chiang standing on the right side, pro­tected by three generals. Three fairies at­tack them from the left, each mounted on a mythical bird. Even though specialized knowledge of Chinese literature is nec­essary to understand these two carvings, anyone can appreciate the aesthetic skills demonstrated in the masterful carving.

It will be decades before the work on Tsushih temple is completed. As a result, it is possible on most days to visit the workshop areas and see the craftsmen at work. One of them is Huang Kuei-li (黃龜理) a master woodcarver and among the first generation to work on the temple's restoration and expansion. Born in 1897 in the Taipei suburb of Panchiao, Huang has devoted seventy-eight of his ninety-three years to woodcarving. At thirteen, Huang began his apprenticeship with Chen Yin-pin, one of Taiwan's most renowned woodcarvers. Since then, he has produced countless carvings for tem­ples all over the island. Huang still spends six hours a day carving smaller-scale scenes or free-standing statues of gods, but now he works at home.

Huang began work at Tsushih tem­ple in 1943. During the following eight years, he was in charge of the design and woodcarving for the sanctuaries, the front and main temples, and various other structural elements. In Huang's view, work on a temple is absolutely necessary before anyone can hope to master traditional carving. "To be a good woodcarver demands not only skill, but also a good sense of Chinese philosophy, which is reflected in temple design," he says. "If one has never carved for a temple, he can't be called a real wood­carver."

After nearly eight decades as a woodcarver, Huang has established a high reputation. In 1985, he was presented with the Arts Heritage Award by the Ministry of Education. And in 1988, he was invited to teach traditional wood­ carving skills in the Master of Folk Arts program at the National Taiwan Academy of Arts. The program began this fall, and admitted four experienced woodcarvers, who will further hone their skills under Huang's tutelage.

Although the program will help tra­ditional woodcarving survive in Taiwan, Huang is still concerned about its long­ term future. "There are few woodcarvers in Taiwan now," he says with sadness in his voice. "The older carvers have either died or gone back to the mainland. And young people are concerned only with technique-they carve without regard to the wholeness of temple design." When asked what it takes to be a good wood­ carver, Huang says: "A good mentor is important, but it is talent, diligence, and devotion that really count most."

Chen Cheng-hsiung (陳正雄), be­longs to the younger generation. At forty, Chen is director of the woodcarving workshop at Tsushih temple, composed of two seniors and five less-experienced carvers. He has been working on the temple for ten years. Chen has been in­terested in woodcarving since childhood, and he often visited his brother, a temple woodcarver in their hometown of Kao­hsiung. Thus he got to know a senior craftsman from the mainland, and at thir­teen became an apprentice. Like other masters, he has left his mark in temples all over Taiwan.

In 1990, Chen became one of the four woodcarvers admitted to the Masters of Folk Arts program at the National Taiwan Academy of Arts. He will take technical and humanities courses. The latter are de­signed to improve the carvers' knowledge of Chinese history, culture, and arts, as well as broaden their view of world civilization. Asked what he expects to learn from the program, Chen says: "Huang Kuei-li's teaching of woodcarving should enhance my technique, and the courses in humanities can help improve my design work." Chen adds that he does not want to produce "only imitative works."

Chen specializes in carving chih fung (螭龍), a hornless dragon in Chi­nese mythology, as well as figures, an­cient designs and patterns, and Chinese character inscriptions. His recent work includes the finely carved balustrade in the main temple, which has small lion finials, each holding a small wooden ball under one paw. He also carved the lintels for the chambers at both sides of the main temple.

"In woodcarving, dexterity is most important," Chen says. "Unlike working with clay, a piece can't be replaced after the stroke is made." Chen's strategy is "to ignore the failures, and try to do better the next time." After twenty-seven years of carving, he is fully familiar with the qualities of different woods and the ef­fects of the grain on expressions. "Cam­phor is soft but resilient, and because it is cross-grained, it is easier to carve expression, than the rigid, smooth grain in Chinese cypress," he says. "It's more resistant to warping, and has been widely used in Taiwan temples."

Unfortunately, camphor wood from the forests in the Central Range are in short supply. The government recently passed a law forbidding further logging of the trees. As a result, carvers are turning to mainland China for alternative supplies. But camphor from the mainland is harder and more brittle.

The stone carvers have different problems. According to Liu Ying-hung (劉英宏), a senior stone carver, the temple originally used stone from Kuanyin Mountain in Taoyuan county for most of the work. But this has been used only be­ cause of availability. Mainland China has much better sources of good carving stone. Recently, some temple donor visited the mainland to seek out stone carvers and better materials. For example, sixteen newly erected stone columns in the main part of the temple are done in Chingtou stone from Fukien and Kwangtung provinces in southeastern China. The stone is of higher quality and more suitable for detailed and elaborate carving. Unfortu­nately, the carving work was done on the mainland, and the results are disappointing. "Even the layman can see the difference between the previous exquisite works and the course and shallow carving on the new ones," Liu says. "They lack both creativity and skill."

Liu, a native of Sanhsia, has spent thirty-eight of his fifty years carving for Tsushih temple. As a child, he lived only one block from the temple and he often went there to play. Before long, he was attracted by the work of the stone carvers, and at thirteen, after completing primary education, he began his apprenticeship at the temple. "I learned to carve everything—figures, flowers, and birds," he says. Later, Liu also set up a small work­ shop at homes and began taking special orders.

But the art is now in decline. "There are few young people interested in stone carving, because it is exactly what they think it is—laborious and tedious work," Liu says. "And worse, for quick results, some stone carvers now use machines." According to Liu, a piece of work which used to take ten days to do by hand can be done by a machine in three days. "But the work is often coarse and unpolished," he says.

When he first started carving figures, Liu would use his mentor's works for models, carefully copying the expres­sions. But there is always uncertainty in stone carving. "You never know its texture until after the first cut. Rough or delicate, you have to make the best of it:" he says. Later, he began to read folk tales to get more information about the stories and the characters which most interested him. Promptbooks, with their illustrations of key scenes and leading characters, were especially useful. Taiwanese opera and puppet shows have also deepened his understanding of his subjects.

In selecting the scenes for his carving, Liu says that he is most concerned with three things: his familiarity with the story, the number of people in the scene, and the size and location of the structural piece on which the scene will be carved. "Using familiar scenes is one way to meet carving deadlines," he says. "And a bustling scene alive with characters and action matches a temple's festive nature."

According to Liu, fairy tales or scenes from The Investitures of the Gods are used most often in temple dragon columns because the clouds and mist the immortals ride allow the undulating line of the dragon body to appear more natural and smooth.

As for the arrangement of scenes, Wang Ching-tai says that "event, character, and setting are the three main factors to be considered." For example, if the event focuses on one main character, he will be placed at the center, with minor characters placed on both sides. If the episode centers on two or more charac­ters, the placement will emphasize the interaction or confrontation between them. If the scene is complex and crowded, the main characters are either arranged in a row, or one minor character will be inserted between two main characters. "In this way, the portrayal isn't rigid or flat," Wang says.

In terms of setting, indoor and out­ door scenes follow different principles. Indoor scenes use special techniques to add depth and complexity to the picture, while in outdoor scenes (often a martial subject), connection rather than depth is stressed. For example, the branches of trees must be stretched and linked smoothly with the heads or hands of figures to avoid instability. "Proper elaboration of trees can enrich the picture and enhance the dramatic effect of the scene, " Wang says. In fact, the more one learns about a Chinese temple, the greater is its overall dramatic—and cultural—impact. And each visit is rewarded with new discoveries.