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The beauty of space There is also a great appeal in the empty spaces within the furniture's lines. The way their creators made the most out of the least possible amount of wood seems to echo the artistic conception by which painters and calligraphers use white space in their works, or in more abstract terms, Laozi's idea of the usefulness of that which is not there, as expressed in the words: "We make a vessel from a lump of clay. It is the empty space within the vessel that makes it useful." Furniture's beauty is only complete with the presence of the human form. James Kline, photographer for the Museum of Classical Chinese Furniture, says it is space which fascinates him most about Chinese furniture, for the "negative spaces" defined by the pieces--except of course the cupboards- - are usually the largest spaces in them. These spaces all have different shapes and sizes, and they all change as the angle of view changes. For instance, the various-sized squares enclosed by this meditation chair are even more eye-catching than its lines themselves. Sitting cross-legged in meditation on such a chair, perhaps one can more easily enter the Zen state of "non-being."

The beauty of curves

Tsui Yung-hsueh, an assistant researcher at the Taiwan Museum of Art, believes the restrained curvature and flexibility of Ming furniture's lines continues the unbroken development of line in Chinese traditional art. This development reaches right back to the patterns on the pottery of the Longshan culture and the incised patterns on Han dynasty bricks, and runs through the various styles of calligraphy and the exquisite brushwork of the paintings of the Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties. This horseshoe-back folding armchair is said to have come from the Ming imperial palace. Its back and arms form a single, sweeping curve.

Beauty of form in furniture often goes hand in hand with functionality, the two combining in perfect harmony. The curvature of the chair's splat is designed to match the curve of the human spine, making it extremely comfortable to sit on. Thus it seems the Chinese were long ago applying "ergonomic" standards to furniture design.

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The beauty of ornament Generally speaking, the pure lines of Ming furniture are so simple that one does not feel they are decorative. But the patterns and motifs used ont he pieces combine with them harmoniously to create a perfect whole. Carving, whether in the form of intaglio, openwork or bas-relief, is probably the most important aspect of furniture decoration. Inlaying and brass or ironwork can also give superb finishing touches, and may be used to break the solemnity of otherwise plain pieces.

The beauty of space

There is also a great appeal in the empty spaces within the furniture's lines. The way their creators made the most out of the least possible amount of wood seems to echo the artistic conception by which painters and calligraphers use white space in their works, or in more abstract terms, Laozi's idea of the usefulness of that which is not there, as expressed in the words: "We make a vessel from a lump of clay. It is the empty space within the vessel that makes it useful." Furniture's beauty is only complete with the presence of the human form.

James Kline, photographer for the Museum of Classical Chinese Furniture, says it is space which fascinates him most about Chinese furniture, for the "negative spaces" defined by the pieces--except of course the cupboards- - are usually the largest spaces in them. These spaces all have different shapes and sizes, and they all change as the angle of view changes. For instance, the various-sized squares enclosed by this meditation chair are even more eye-catching than its lines themselves. Sitting cross-legged in meditation on such a chair, perhaps one can more easily enter the Zen state of "non-being."

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The beauty of materials For furniture to be so aesthetically pleasing, the choice of wood is an important factor. The tropical hardwoods usually used, such as huanghuali, zitan or jichimu, each have their own special character. Huanghuali is the premier material from which Ming furniture was made. It may be yellow or red in color, and the grain is lively and variable, its pattern sometimes clear, sometimes indistinct. We can get an idea of its beauty from the round-cornered, wooden-hinged huanghuali cabinet pictured here. Zitan meanwhile is a very precious wood which is so heavy that is said to sink in water. It is dark and lustrous and imparts a quiet and seemingly ancient solemnity. Jichimu has a grain as gorgeous as the plumage of a golden pheasant, so it is hardly surprising that it is often called "pheasant's -wing wood." (right photo from Connoisseurship of Chinese Furniture)

The beauty of ornament

Generally speaking, the pure lines of Ming furniture are so simple that one does not feel they are decorative. But the patterns and motifs used ont he pieces combine with them harmoniously to create a perfect whole. Carving, whether in the form of intaglio, openwork or bas-relief, is probably the most important aspect of furniture decoration. Inlaying and brass or ironwork can also give superb finishing touches, and may be used to break the solemnity of otherwise plain pieces.

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Inner beauty Hidden beneath Ming furniture's minimalist exterior lies a secret: a highly complex mortise-and-tenon joint structure, like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle in which everything fits intimately together, yet can be easily dismantled. Metal nails are almost never used. The two halves of each joint combine organically together, each making way for the other and each complementing the other. Wang Shixiang, in his Classic Chinese Furniture and Connoisseurship of Chinese Furniture, writes with great enthusiasm as he introduces various types of jointing techniques, like the pegged tenon joints used to join curved elements such as the armrests on horseshoe-back armchairs, or the elongated bridle joints most commonly used in tables and similar pieces of furniture, in which tenons on top of each leg fit into mortises in the underside of the tabletop. (photo from Connoisseurship of Chinese Furniture) 　(Claire Liu/photos by James Kline, Museum of Classical Chinese Furniture/tr.by Robert Taylor)

The beauty of materials

For furniture to be so aesthetically pleasing, the choice of wood is an important factor. The tropical hardwoods usually used, such as huanghuali, zitan or jichimu, each have their own special character. Huanghuali is the premier material from which Ming furniture was made. It may be yellow or red in color, and the grain is lively and variable, its pattern sometimes clear, sometimes indistinct. We can get an idea of its beauty from the round-cornered, wooden-hinged huanghuali cabinet pictured here. Zitan meanwhile is a very precious wood which is so heavy that it is said to sink in water. It is dark and lustrous and imparts a quiet and seemingly ancient solemnity. Jichimu has a grain as gorgeous as the plumage of a golden pheasant, so it is hardly surprising that it is often called "pheasant's -wing wood." (right photo from Connoisseurship of Chinese Furniture)

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Inner beauty

Hidden beneath Ming furniture's minimalist exterior lies a secret: a highly complex mortise-and-tenon joint structure, like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle in which everything fits intimately together, yet can be easily dismantled. Metal nails are almost never used. The two halves of each joint combine organically together, each making way for the other and each complementing the other.

Wang Shixiang, in his Classic Chinese Furniture and Connoisseurship of Chinese Furniture, writes with great enthusiasm as he introduces various types of jointing techniques, like the pegged tenon joints used to join curved elements such as the armrests on horseshoe-back armchairs, or the elongated bridle joints most commonly used in tables and similar pieces of furniture, in which tenons on top of each leg fit into mortises in the underside of the tabletop. (photo from Connoisseurship of Chinese Furniture)