The selection of materials requires a good eye, and time. It is said that the Ching dynasty ch'in maker Lei Wei, each time it snowed, donned his palm-bark rain cape and bamboo rain hat, and went deep into Omei Mountain to listen to the whistling of the winds in the pines. When he heard one that was especially lingering, he cut it down and brought it back. And then there's Ts'ai Yung of the Tang dynasty, who selected his wood by the sounds it made being scorched.
As for Lin Li-cheng, Lei's method is too mythical; and Ts'ai's story can be explained scientifically, because the more dense the wood, the more resonant the cracking sound when the resin is dissipated under high temperatures. Lin Li-cheng uses scientific methods to make ch'ins.
In order to find good materials, he often goes alone into the forest, relying only on the lay of the land and his instincts to lead him, living off the land if need be, for up to a month. The woods are like his home. When he was young he often swore not to return home at all until he found materials. In 1980, when he was alone in the mountain woods, he was walking up a stream (old wood is relatively well-preserved in flowing water). That night, while resting on the bank, he detected a purplish-black branch under thewater, just right for a chrin in length and of excellent quality. Every day for the next twenty days he dove underwater with his saw to chop the branch away--no mean feat submerged, especially when the sawdust sticks to the sawblade. The wood eventually became the ch'in that Lin is most satisfied with.
Starting from his time studying with Sun Yu-ch'in in 1973, Lin Li-cheng has always committed himself completely. Besides learning his teacher's experience, he took himself to leading universities to study microscope technology, wood chemistry, and hardwood. For Lin, who had never been to high school, this was not easy. But he was able, through hard work, to get out of it what he wanted.
Old wood requires no special handling for hewing the ch'in. But because original materials are limited, most ch'in makers use new wood. But it's necessary to get the liquid out of the new wood by sub mersing the embryonically carved wood in lime water to soak for a month or two. But then, the calcium carbonate in the lime gets into the cells, and there's no way to completely get rid of it. Lin has spent a lot of time researching a way to put liquid consuming microbes into the wood, but this is still in an experimental stage.
Wood which has been in water for a long time must be dark dried. Lin feels that in Taiwan, even if the wood is dried naturally, there will be cracks. So it should be dried in the most moderate possible environment. These kinds of things cannot be discovered in books, but only through trial and study.
In making a ch'in, the handcrafting is secondary to the tone. This is closely connected to the middle space and the matching of the face and underside of the ch'in. When he first began studying, Lin would take a finished ch'in to his teacher Sun to try out. If the sound wasn't right, it would be taken apart and repaired repeatedly, sometimes more than 20 times. Now Lin can get it right in two or three tries.
Different kinds of wood may show different types of shape changes which must be carefully considered so that a ch'in will not lose its tone after a year or two. Many defective ku-ch'in are sent to Lin for "emergency treatment," including those by the famous Hong Kong hewer Tsoi Fok-geh and mainland ch'in which have good materials but poor workmanship.
Most ch'in on the market go for about NT$20,000. Lin's cheapest is NT$50,000. But those who come to buy don't think it's expensive.
To make a ch'in takes Lin two years. Besides the steps already discussed, there's also sanding, lacquering, and stringing. He uses deer horn powder as sanding material, and crude lacquer on the outside. The depth of the lacquer and its ingredients affect the sound, and cannot be taken lightly. Lin grinds his own deer horn powder and goes to get crude lacquer from a forest near Puli every seven or eight months.
This May, Lin injured his spine lifting heavy wood. He is recovering well, but inevitably his workload has been reduced. Fortunately, his oldest son is graduating from middle school this year, and will, after studying intensively for a year, help his father in his work.
We've all heard of people who are "lovecrazy." But few have seen anyone who is "ch'in-crazy." Lin Li-cheng is the most representative example.
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Whether it be for hewing, lacquering, or stringing, both the selection of materials and the crafting must be meticulous to get a fine ch'in.
Undecipherable ch'in sheet music only records the fingering method and string number, but has no rhythm or time signatures. Add to this that each school has its own method for writing the music, and students have no choice but to learn by following the teacher note for note.
Sun Yu-ch'in, alone in Taiwan, can't get around much because of illness.