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MAY 19, 2000 VOL. 27 NO. 19 | SEARCH ASIAWEEK
Sculptor turns out legends in an ancient style By MARIA CHENG Hong Kong A little flour and water can go a long way. In the hands of Catherine Lau, the mixture is frequently transformed into figurines that are as intricate as they are tiny. Dough sculpting is an ancient craft, but the China-born artist is giving it a new twist. "Some people think it's strange," Lau says of her choice of medium. "But it's really very complicated work." Dough sculpting dates back to the Han dynasty (206 B.C. to 220 A.D.), and like many traditional crafts, it is swiftly vanishing. Lau's delicate efforts may help buck that trend. The twenty-something artist became interested in dough sculpting after visiting a folk-arts exhibition in Beijing about seven years ago. When she could not find a teacher willing to pass on the secrets of making a stable sculpting dough, she spent three years perfecting her own recipe. The artist did well enough to stage an exhibition of some 50 figurines in Hong Kong. It is a welcome change after the eight humdrum years she spent as a commercial artist. Although she trained as a sculptor at Tianjin University, those skills weren't very useful for bringing in the rent and paying household bills. That is until she got to grips with flour and water. "People seem to understand the little pieces better," she says of her dough figures. Traditionally, folk artists mix water with wheat and glutinous rice flour. This is boiled and kneaded as it cools, after which the material is ready to be shaped. During the Song and Yuan dynasties, colorful dough figures were used to garnish banquets, as visual rather than culinary delights. Because meat was a rare treat for most of the populace at the time, many villagers made shapes of chicken or fish. That's one way of maintaining a balanced diet. The figures were also created as ritual offerings to the gods during weddings and festivals. Often molded into deities, the tiny pieces became particularly popular during the Qing dynasty (1644-1911), when they were collected by the nobility. Dough sculptures even featured among Emperor Pu-Yi's wedding gifts. Sons of Heaven are just as susceptible as peasants to kitsch art. Lau's figurines are often a mere 10 cm tall. But while some may marvel at the detail, she says there's more to her work than just pleasing the eye. Lau sees her figurines as educational tools too. She frequently picks forgotten Chinese myths as subjects. Take Zhong Kui, a legendary character who prowled the land, casting out evil spirits. Few people remember this story, Lau says of the Tang-dynasty myth that is said to have originated from an emperor's nightmare. Her sculpture of the demon-catcher serves as a reminder. Lau laments that many young Hong Kongers know little about Chinese culture. Her dough sculptures just might pique their interest because the figurines meet the SAR's cuteness quotient. "People like small things here," Lau concedes. "They don't have to think much about what it means." Of course, Lau would like to work on more substantial pieces. But the sculptor isn't about to turn out tableaux in stone or wood anytime soon. Space constraints in Hong Kong makes for a straightforward choice. "There's no room in my studio for big pieces," Lau says. But there's always space for dough. Write to Asiaweek at mail@web.asiaweek.com
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