Our scientist was not the only foreigner to have undergone the "yeti experience" in China. When visiting old carpenters in mainland China and Taiwan in the process of researching an ancient work on carpentry for his doctoral thesis, Klaas Ruitenbeek had many such experiences. He found that the knowledge of some of the older people about the wider world was so limited to an awareness of China and its surrounding "tribes" that they took him to be a Sinkiang compatriot; elder children were fascinated while babies and infants yelled out in terror at first sight. Apart from embarrassment, Ruitenbeek could only sigh and put these reactions down to "the shock of the new."
Back in Amsterdam, Ruitenbeek now points out that even before the Ming dynasty (AD 1369-1644) foreigners were in fact available for Chinese artists to incorporate into their work, such as the Persians who arrived at the imperial court bearing tribute from surrounding states. With their pointed caps, beards and high noses, they appear in books, paintings and pottery. True Europeans appear in the Ming and Ch'ing (AD 1644-1911) dynasties, during which time the opening up of sea links led to the large-scale appearance of European traders and their buildings in China's coastal provinces. It is not surprising then that in an ink and color depiction of the Fukien coast, Dutch trading vessels can clearly be seen.
But what do the sea-faring Westerners look like in Chinese art? Ruitenbeek has delineated four levels of "Chinese-made Westerners": first are those drawn from an observation of Westerners on the China coast. A good example of this can be seen in Chang Ju-lin's Short Account of Macao (Ao-men chi-lu), of the mid-eighteenth century. If we look at the painting "Hard and Soft Sedan Chair," the foreigners are so lacking in exaggerated noses or eyes that it is difficult to tell them apart from the Chinese in the picture. In another picture, of a man and wife, their clothes tell us clearly that they are Portuguese, but the characters "male barbarian" and "female barbarian" give us a good idea of the views of the artist concerning travellers from the West.
Ruitenbeek's second level of incorporation consists of Westerners treated in a more artistic way by Chinese artists. In this category are three pictures from among a group of 103 paintings which go to make up Chang Pao's illustrated account of his journey through China (Hsu Fan-ch'a t'u), published in the first part of the nineteenth century. Ruitenbeek remarks that these works are in the manner of the coastal paintings of the T'ang dynasty artist Li Chao-tao, and the colophon informs us that the subject is "the eight barbarian tribes assembling in honor of the emperor's rule."
Also in this level is a small table screen from the Ch'ien Lung period of the eighteenth century, showing a man and woman who could be either Dutch or English. With curled hair and high noses, the pretty blonde depicted in Chinese linear style surprisingly adopts the posture of a willowy Chinese lady. As evidence of the curious fascination with which Western women were viewed by the Chinese at that time, Ruitenbeek quotes Pao Ch'in in chapter 52 of The Dream of the Red Chamber, where she recalls, "When I was eight I went with my father on one of his trips to buy foreign merchandise to one of the Western seaports and while we were there we saw a girl from the country of Ebenash, only fifteen years old. She was just like one of those foreign girls you see in paintings: long, yellow hair done into plaits.... Actually, she was more beautiful than the foreign girls you see in paintings."
It would seem that because such images were not depictions of Westerners as objects for the export art market but were for internal Chinese consumption, they can give us a more objective idea of the views held by people of that time. The artist identifies himself as "Chinese person" on the back of the screen and gives a fairly blatant indication of his view of Westerners by the inscription. "They dress in grass, eat from trees and hold their princes in contempt."
Another noteworthy example of the artistic interpretation of Westerners by Chinese artists can be seen in an eighteenth-century lacquer screen made for the Chinese market. Here Dutch hunters with exaggerated bulging eyes, protruding noses and large hats ride horses in a Chinese landscape. Indian servants can also be seen and there could well be a Japanese influence in the style of this work, which might have been made in Shantung after a Japanese design.
The screen measures 320×624cm and is intricately finished. Ruitenbeek points put that this is one of several such screens in Europe, among which the most crowded composition is that of the screen in the National Museet, Copenhagen. Among other things, the Copenhagen screen shows an elephant carrying a musical band, tigers in cages and camels. The title of this work is "Tributary Mission of the Dutch" and Ruitenbeek modestly stresses that it is more beautiful than his own museum's screen. By various routes such screens had come all the way to Europe by the beginning of this century--which could be a case either of "carrying the well when you leave the village", or returning to roots--it is hard to say which.
The third category of Westerners in Chinese art pointed to by Ruitenbeek is that of narrative paintings depicting episodes of Chinese history in which Westerners played a part. Among a recent acquisition of seven folk paintings by the Rijksmuseum are two which show Dutchmen. In these pictures they are not hunting on horseback, however, but aboard a warship--or rather jumping into the sea in panic. The scene is obviously a reference to the story of the expulsion of the "red-haired barbarians" from Taiwan by Koxinga, a Ming loyalist who besieged the Dutch on Taiwan when he was pushed from the mainland by the invading armies of the Manchu Ch'ing dynasty.
Last year the museum was donated some paintings obtained in China by a former Dutch diplomat, G.J. Disseuelt, who wanted the museum to have them because they contained scenes concerning Dutch history. These paintings are very like the genre of Chinese paintings which show the emperor's southern tours or great military exploits, only they are more coarse. The clothes shown are in the styles of the Sung, Ming and Ch'ing dynasties, but they are all linked to the theme of the goddess Matsu. They are very beautiful and natural and could well be popular wall paintings from a temple. Artist and origins are not clear but the seven paintings appear to be from the same hand, although some are not so well finished and could be examples of cooperation between master and journeyman. The paintings have been casually creased, it seems that they were rolled horizontally into a scroll, rather than the usual vertical arrangement. Perhaps the pictures originally had captions or were even separated by frames.
As for the themes, Ruitenbeek points to a painting of a general wearing the attire of a Ch'ing dynasty official, sitting erect by a well, the story behind which he found in the T'ien-fei hsien-sheng lu (The Miracles of the Heavenly Lady). He explains that the general in the centre of the picture is in fact the famous Ch'ing dynasty general, Shih Lang, who captured Taiwan from Koxinga's descendants and thus incorporated it into the Ch'ing empire in 1683. According to the records, when Shih Lang received his orders to conquer Taiwan for the Ch'ing, he stopped at a small island near Meichou where there was only a dilapidated Matsu shrine and an old well. The water in the well was dirty and could not provide enough for the soldiers to drink, so Shih Lang had it repaired. After a good clean the well suddenly started spouting, which was interpreted as a good omen and sign of Matsu's support for the expedition.
Another of the paintings donated in this collection concerns the dream of commander Lin Sheng, who sailed from Meichou to join Shih Lang in his Taiwan campaign. In this dream a heavenly host appeared and defeated the enemy. It is interesting that Western-style architecture can be seen in the picture, which could be modelled on the commercial buildings either of Macao or Zeelandia in Taiwan.
As for the Dutch figures in the picture, the artist had probably never actually seen any foreigners but based their images on prints he had seen, whereas he let his imagination roam more freely with the ships, weapons and musical instruments. With much about this picture remaining to be explained Ruitenbeek intends to visit the National Palace Museum in Taipei in July this year to take part in a conference and seek the advice of other experts.
The final level of Westerners in Chinese art for Ruitenbeek is that of dressing up "foreign devils" as Chinese gods. A fascinating example of this is an ink and colour painting showing a curly-haired figure reclining on a stone bed dressed in Western clothing, purchased by the Rijksmuseum in 1987. In front of the bed are two more red-haired figures, one offering a bowl of peaches and the other a baby sitting on the floor playing with two bats (which are a sign of good fortune in China). Obtained by a Dutch diplomat in Peking in 1961, this picture appeared for the first time in Holland in 1985 under the title "Three Westerners." In 1987, after it was transferred to the Rijksmuseum, the new curator of the Oriental department, Klaas Ruitenbeek, thought the subject looked familiar but could not think why.
It was only later, when he saw a painting of the demon catcher Chung K'uei, by Chu Chien- shen (1481), that he realised the significance of the picture in the Rijksmuseum. Chung K'uei is a folklore figure supposed to have been a scholar in the T'ang dynasty who committed suicide after failing his exams. Because the emperor still granted him an honorable burial, his spirit returned and vowed to rid the world of demons in return. Ruitenbeek was amazed to notice that apart from their facial features and clothing, the three "Westerners," their postures, positions, the two bats, the ju-i scepter, the peaches, the sword and other features, all completely coincided with the iconology of the traditional Chung K'uei story!
The date and name of the artist of this "Foreign Chung K'uei," Chang Ju-lin, coincide with those of the author of the illustrated description of Macao already mentioned above. But they are not necessarily the same person. According to its inscription, the "Foreign Chung K'uei" can be dated to 1738, although the clothing is seventeenth-century European. Ruitenbeek explains this by pointing out that the artist, in combining Eastern and Western styles, obviously took his basic model from both Chinese folk art and images of the Dutch obtained from earlier Dutch albums.
As to why the artist could come up with such a strange vision as this "foreign devil," Ruitenbeek explains that in the eighteenth century, especially the period of the emperor Ch'ien Lung from which this picture comes, there was a sort of European vogue at court which was also felt in the coastal provinces where export art for the European market was produced. Last year at Sotheby's in London, there even appeared a painting of Fu, Lu and Shou (the gods of happiness, fortune and longevity) with a baby, who seemed to have undergone a degree of naturalisation as Western subjects. "Perhaps it is because these images of gods are so close to the hearts of Chinese people that can be treated so humorously!" Ruitenbeek points out. The "Foreign Chung K'uei" is to be put on display again next year, accompanied by the new interpretation of its background.
The Rijksmuseum was founded in Amsterdam in 1800 and is one of Europe's largest museums. However, its oriental collection, compared to its famous collection of Western paintings, or some of the Chinese collections in other European museums, is not particularly strong, a fact which Ruitenbeek explains by joking. "Our Chinese collection is all taken from everyday trade, none of it was stolen from China."
The collection is divided into two main sections, the first of which is the export porcelain of the Ming and Ch'ing dynasties. Because the amount of Sino-Dutch trade was so large at that time, this collection is correspondingly rich and includes the cargo of porcelain that was recovered in 1976 from a Dutch East India Company ship which sank in the seventeenth century. Secondly, there is a collection of Shang and Chou bronzes, Buddhist sculpture from the T'ang and Sung, lacquerwork and a small number of paintings and works of calligraphy. Altogether there are about 2,500 items.
Ruitenbeek stresses that the collection has no items pillaged from China during the decline of the Ch'ing dynasty. Everything was purchased at auctions in Europe in the 1920s and 1930s. The museum has a strict rule of not buying any art treasures that might have been smuggled out of China, especially recently, no matter how beautiful they might be, "which can be very difficult, especially when you see what other museums are buying." However, up to today most of the leading European museums support this principle, he continues, "After all, the more people agree on this issue, the less they will encourage the smuggling of art treasures".
To be the curator responsible for the Chinese collection in a European museum requires making painstaking efforts to spread awareness of the great wealth of Chinese culture to a wide audience. Ruitenbeek feels that although most Dutch people's interest in Chinese art is considerable, their understanding is limited and their actual knowledge is even smaller. The small minority who do have a better understanding tend to be limited to the field of porcelain. He feels that to get people's interest in the more specialist collections, it is best to use unusual items, such as the "Foreign Chung K'uei," which have an interesting story behind them. Moreover, when people can see Europeans in such pictures, and even Dutch people, it becomes much easier to win over their interest.
To organize large-scale exhibitions which attract more attention while remaining within the financial limitations of the museum it is necessary to enlist help. Dutch lovers of Chinese art have therefore organized a club to help out and members can take great pride when one of their items is displayed in the Rijksmuseum. Next winter there is to be an exhibition of Chinese finger paintings at the museum when, as well as showing items from the Rijksmuseum's collection, exhibits will come from museums and galleries throughout the world.
This July, Klaas Ruitenbeek will go to Taipei's National Palace Museum to give a paper on his research into Chinese finger painting. He invites everyone passing through Amsterdam next year, the gateway to Europe, not to forget the Rijksmuseum--and when you get there don't just head for Rembrandt's Night Watch but come to see the finger paintings and, of course, say "long time, no see!" to some of the old Dutch China hands who appear in the paintings.
[Picture Caption]
(Above) A Dutch merchant ship can be seen in the corner of this ink and colour painting of the Fukien coast.
(Below) Klaas Ruitenbeek welcomes any opinions when analyzing acquisitions such as this folk-painting of the goddess Matsu. (photo by Arthur Cheng)
(Above) Chang Ju- lin's male and female "barbarians."
(Below) Western figures reclines on sedan chairs in illustrations from Chang Ju-lin's Short Account of Macao.
This foreign couple decorate an eighteenth- century soap stone table screen.
(Left) The inscription on the back of the screen tells us "They dress in grass, eat from trees and hold their princes in contempt."
Coromandel lacquer screens like this one from the early eighteenth century were produced both for export and the domestic market.
Such gross exaggeration of features suggests a Japanese influence on the design of this screen. (photo by Arthur Cheng)
(Right) A detail from the screen shows Dutch hunters and an Indian servant. (photo by Authur Cheng)
The first in the series of seven paintings around the theme of Matsu por trays Koxinga's battle with the "red-haired barbarians" (the Dutch). In the top left-hand corner, Divine warriors join the fight against the Dutch (see detail, right).
Lin Sheng's dream from The Miracles of the heavenly Lady.
Shih Lang receives a good omen from Matsu before his successful campaign against the Ming loyalists on Taiwan.
These Western looking gods of happiness, wealth and longevity by an unknown artist of the eighteenth century were up for sale by Sotheby's of London.
(Left) A typical demon catching Chung K'uei by the Ming artist Chu Chien-shen.
When looked at carefully could these Westerners be three "foreign devils" in the likeness of Chung K'uei and his companions?
Kao Ch'i-p'ei's finger paintings will be joined by others from all over the world in the Rijksmuseum's exhibition next year.
（Below） Klaas Ruitenbeek welcomes any opinions when analyzing acquisitions such as this folk-painting of the goddess Matsu. （photo by Arthur Cheng）
（Above） Chang Ju- lin's male and female "barbarians.".
（Below） Western figures reclines on sedan chairs in illustrations from Chang Ju-lin's Short Account of Macao.
（Left） The inscription on the back of the screen tells us "They dress in grass, eat from trees and hold their princes in contempt.".
This foreign couple decorate an eighteenth- century soap stone table screen.
Coromandel lacquer screens like this one from the early eighteenth century were produced both for export and the domestic market.
Such gross exaggeration of features suggests a Japanese influence on the design of this screen. （photo by Arthur Cheng）
（Right） A detail from the screen shows Dutch hunters and an Indian servant. （photo by Authur Cheng）
The first in the series of seven paintings around the theme of Matsu por trays Koxinga's battle with the "red-haired barbarians" （the Dutch）. In the top left-hand corner, Divine warriors join the fight against the Dutch （see detail, right）.
Lin Sheng's dream from The Miracles of the heavenly Lady.
Shih Lang receives a good omen from Matsu before his successful campaign against the Ming loyalists on Taiwan.
These Western looking gods of happiness, wealth and longevity by an unknown artist of the eighteenth century were up for sale by Sotheby's of London.
（Left） A typical demon catching Chung K'uei by the Ming artist Chu Chien-shen.
When looked at carefully could these Westerners be three "foreign devils" in the likeness of Chung K'uei and his companions?
Kao Ch'i-p'ei's finger paintings will be joined by others from all over the world in the Rijksmuseum's exhibition next year.
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