After French physicist Denis Papin built the first piston engine in 1690, steam-powered machinery pulled human society toward industrialization. The subsequent inventions of the 18th-century Englishman Thomas Newcomen and Scottish engineer James Watt, the latter revered as the father of the modern steam engine, greatly improved the efficiency of steam machinery.

In the early 19th century, British mining technician Richard Trevithick and American inventor Oliver Evans built the first high-pressure steam engine, from which Trevithick developed the first steam locomotive. The Industrial Revolution thereafter spread around the world following the sound of the steam whistle.

Ever since the locomotive took its place in human life, the steady rhythms of rails and steam whistles have repeatedly played out the joys and sorrows of life. To ceramic artist Hsieh Chia-heng, the train represents an intractable longing; his love for trains inspired him to create astounding clay representations of long-obsolete steam locomotives that once played a central role in life, using the 13th-century royal Arab technique of luster glazing that he learned while studying in Spain.

Entering Hsieh's studio, located in a vibrant area of Taipei, is like walking into a miniature railroad museum. There's a model of Teng Yun No. 1, Taiwan's first-ever steam train, purchased in 1888 from Hohenzollern of Germany by Taiwan's first Qing-era governor, Liu Mingchuan. Radiating a brassy sheen is a Model 110 locomotive bought in 1910 by the Japanese governor-general of Taiwan from the American Locomotive Company (ALCO). There are many more, each one lifelike and built to exacting specifications.

(above) In Memories, Hsieh added various oxides to feldspar glaze, resulting in layers of colors.

Memories as long as the tracks

Hsieh was born in Taipei in 1965. Busy with their lumber business, his parents sent him to Tainan to be cared for by his grandmother, returning to Taipei only when he was in kindergarten. During his subsequent schooling, his mother would take him by train to visit his grandmother every summer and winter vacation.

"I was young at the time, and thought the trains were really big and long. They puffed out both smoke and steam," he says. Even more miraculous, however, was that the train would bring him to his doting grandmother's side.

Hsieh was already exhibiting an artistic talent in his youth. In third grade at Ze Hsin Primary School, he won an award in a French-sponsored worldwide children's painting competition. In fifth grade the school let him take part in a campus design project, for which he made a clay sculpture titled Gargoyle. These works of his were on display at the school all the way until the school was remodeled a few years ago.

The only child of a well-to-do family, Hsieh experienced the love of doting parents; however, he was a bit of a slacker, and he failed his high school entrance exams. While going to prep school, his classmates suggested he join them in attending Fu-Shin Trade and Arts School to study product design. He retained his slacker attitude after his acceptance, but fortunately for him he had an ever-patient teacher, Cheng Pao-tsung, under whose tireless instruction Hsieh changed his ways. In eighth grade, Hsieh won first prize in the school's clothing illustration contest.

After finishing his studies at Fu-Shin, he took the entrance exam for the National Taiwan Academy of Arts, but failed. Wishing him to take over the family business, his father arranged for him to gain on-the-job experience at the family company, while at the same time taking evening classes in business administration at the China Institute of Technology. After completing his military service, he took on a management position at his parents' company earning a high salary, a typical circumstance for the next generation taking over a small business.

At that time the Taipei National University of the Arts had a branch campus in Luchou, Taipei County. Students and faculty of the Department of Fine Arts frequently visited Hsieh's lumberyard to buy materials. From his chats with them, the artistic talent that had lain buried for many years began surging through his veins. He decided to take a look at the outside world.

When he told his father of his decision to study abroad, his father thought it was just a passing interest based on Hsieh's past slacker personality regarding his studies, and was adamant that he wouldn't pay any of his son's tuition. Hsieh, now aged 27, sold his car, and with US$13,000 flew to Spain and entered a five-year program at the Escuela Madrilena de Ceramica de la Moncloa.

Starting over from scratch

Having previously studied product design, he was inexperienced with ceramics; moreover, he hadn't even touched clay since fifth grade. So why would he choose to attend ceramics school?

Hsieh says that he originally planned to study furniture design. But when he arrived in Madrid, he roomed at a Taiwanese-run restaurant whose owner suggested that he try ceramics, a field few students from Taiwan studied. Thus began his academic experience in an exotic land where he was a stranger to the language and artistic traditions.

Despite the school's slow teaching pace, Hsieh, who had just started learning Spanish, barely understood a word. It was at this time, though, that he met one of his greatest benefactors, Tang Fu-kuei. Tang, who was the first exchange student from Tamkang University on a government scholarship, was a roommate of his who had come to Spain to study for a PhD in literature. Every day he helped Hsieh cram for Spanish; Tang even translated notes Hsieh borrowed from his classmates and went over them with him.

Besides having a passionate and capable tutor, as the only Asian student in his class Hsieh was also the object of attention of his chemistry instructor Alfonso D'ors, who made certain he understood the content of each section he taught before continuing with the lessons.

Hsieh remembers that despite the chemistry professor's concern for him, sometimes he would deliberately tease Hsieh, asking him why he came all the way to Spain when Asian pottery techniques were world renowned. Only in 1994, when Hsieh won an award of excellence in Spain's 19th Certamen Nacional de Ceramica did the professor see him in a different light.

During his fourth year, Hsieh saw the works of artist Joan Carrillo, acclaimed as Spain's foremost expert in the technique of luster glazing. Hsieh marveled at the rich and colorful glaze, bought some pieces, and told his professor, Joan Llacer, that he would like to study this glazing technique. Astonished, his professor told him that luster glazing is complex and very difficult to learn.

<>Butterfly wings in the sun

Luster glazing is a distinctive glazing method used by 13th-century Arabs to create vessels for religious worship or as gifts to kings. Only the most accomplished ceramic artisans had the expertise to do this. Moreover, this technique was passed on to males only. The Arabs governed Spain for over 700 years starting in the 7th century, so this specific glazing technique was passed down in Spain. It special feature is the way light is refracted into streaks under a light source, like butterfly wings radiating gorgeous hues in the sunlight.

Though Professor Llacer had provided Hsieh with over 200 different glaze recipes to experiment with, Hsieh's attempts were unsuccessful even after a year and a half. At this time an artist friend learned from his reading that the Arabs added large quantities of tin to their kiln fires. Hsieh tried and to his surprise was successful.

Hsieh stresses that in luster glazing, in addition to the difficulty of determining the appearance of the glazing, abundant experience is needed to control the kiln temperatures properly.

Hsieh took some lead-free calcium borax frit, put in beads of clay and borax, and then added the metal compound copper oxide. Says Hsieh, "The metals in the glaze mix can't be pure. For instance, pure copper, when fired in the kiln, turns completely black, so first the copper has to be dissolved in nitric acid, and then crystalline copper oxide needs to be extracted for use."

During kiln firing, the temperature must be reduced gradually. First the base color is fired in an electric kiln at 1,150oC, then the coating color is fired in a gas kiln at 1,100oC, and finally the main coloring is treated via the reduction firing technique in a gas kiln with the temperature held steady at 1,050oC.

Reduction firing is a means of controlling the oxygen content in the kiln to block oxidation. Normally when substances burn they become oxidized and change color, such as when black iron turns red. In reduction firing, when the kiln temperature is lowered to around 600oC, carbon monoxide gas is added in large quantities, which competes for oxygen with combustibles in the kiln. In this oxygen-deprived environment, even the oxygen contained within the clay and the glaze is burned off, and the reduction process on the glaze produces complex variations.

Hsieh had a Spanish direct-flame gas kiln specially imported so he could bring kiln temperatures to high levels quickly. Direct flaming raises the kiln temperature, making air oxidation more thorough during firing, in turn preventing impurities from sticking to the work due to incomplete oxidation.

Dialogue with the piece

The Escuela only offers a Ceramics Expert Diploma, so during his fourth year Hsieh began studying for a master's degree in chemistry at the Complutense University of Madrid, with the purpose of studying glaze in more depth.

In 1996, Professor Llacer invited Hsieh to go with him to Florence to take part in the International Fair of Contemporary Art.

The fair provided European artists with an opportunity to interact and trade. It covered a broad range of art forms; the number of ceramics booths alone exceeded 200. Hsieh was struck by the fact that the first thing these artists said when they saw each other was "You're still alive!" Evidently the artists lived tough lives.

In contrast to the crude, unadorned manner of Spanish pottery, the Italian works were imbued with rich color and a sense of design, which impressed Hsieh deeply. That same year, Hsieh's entry won second place in the 21st Certamen Nacional de Ceramica in Spain, not only the highest award ever won by a student of the Escuela, but also the first award given in this competition to a ceramic arts student, let alone one from Taiwan.

"What I gained most from my artistic training in Spain was the long period of rumination before beginning a creative project. The professors would require us first to recount our concept and rationale in spoken language, then express it in writing, and then create a sketch of the proposed piece before finally working the piece itself." Hsieh says that the rumination period gives you more time for in-depth dialogue with the piece. Only when rationale, creativity and emotion are unified will it be possible to create a good piece.

Hsieh has meticulously recreated a miniature of Taiwan's first locomotive, Teng Yun No. 1, purchased from Germany in 1888.

A glaze magician

In 1997, Hsieh received his master's degree from Complutense University and his diploma from the Escuela. But though he had intended to stay in Madrid and continue his art work, as an only child he had no choice but to go back to Taiwan at the request of his parents.

After returning to Taiwan, he started make vases using an experimental technique--they were glazed on the inside, while the exterior maintained the crude appearance of clay. These were quite popular sellers. Due to his youth and late entry into this trade, some accomplished potters derided him for his lack of traditional skills, and assumed that he would not be able to make teapots, which require precision.

However, Hsieh was well grounded in teapot making from his studies in Spain. In 1999, to prove himself, he began selling teapots with the unique effects of the natural glazing technique, to the surprise of Taiwan's pottery community.

In natural glazing, or ash glazing, natural plant materials like longan shells or mung beans are burnt to ashes, which are sprinkled onto glaze before firing. To Hsieh, who specialized in the chemistry of glaze, even soy sauce could serve as glaze ingredient. When using glaze, he was like a magician pulling money from thin air: the process was simple but awe-inspiring.

When Hsieh was experimenting with the silvery-yellow tones of silver oxide, the silver oxide crystals became strongly acidic when added to water, corroding metal spray gun nozzles. Later, he switched to plastic nozzles to overcome the problem. Pictured here is a vase.

A waltz of three metals

While in Spain, Hsieh was successful at luster glazing, but mostly he used copper oxide, which produces brassy hues. Six years ago, at the request of a customer, he began experimenting with the silvery-yellow tones of silver oxide. But silver oxide becomes a strong acid when mixed with water, which corrodes the metal nozzles of spray guns, so he turned to plastic nozzles to overcome the corrosion problems.

In 2003, Hsieh used copper oxide and silver oxide in his luster glazing process for the first time. He applied the glaze using the impressionistic style of pointillism, dotting the clay with his spray gun. During firing, these points of glaze melt and flow under high temperatures, and new colors form where the different glazes overlap. After repeated firings in the kiln, the colors become rich, varied and captivating. His piece, entitled River of Time, won third prize in the Third National Crafts Awards.

This made him determined to experiment with bismuth oxide, which is valued for its refractive properties when used in glazes. Hsieh points out that the molecular structure of bismuth crystals shows 18 refracting facets, and that if successfully fired, bismuth oxide becomes iridescent--it refracts light falling on the glaze from pretty much any angle, radiating multicolored hues like a rainbow.

After half a year of repeated attempts, Hsieh successfully fired a piece using bismuth oxide. He also tried combining copper oxide, silver oxide and bismuth oxide in the same piece, which required a high level of glazing skill. Says Hsieh, "Even though different metal compounds were added to the glaze, during the firing process we can usually obtain just the glaze color effects of one compound because of the different temperature reduction rates." It requires repeated attempts to bring out the colors of each metal compound.

His 2004 work Tolerance, the second place winner of the Fourth National Crafts Awards, amply displays the maturity of his glazing technique. Hsieh has not only introduced a new luster glazing method to Taiwan's modern ceramics industry; he has also contributed many new glazes that are rich in color.

Romantic and emotional when creating and scientific and rational when kiln firing, Hsieh Chia-heng applies the 13th century Arab technique of luster glazing to fire earthenware locomotives, inspired by his passion for trains.

Love of trains and ceramics

In 1998, while Hsieh was consolidating his luster glazing skills, he saw a TRA recruitment ad; this was the spark that kindled his interest in making ceramic trains. When he was in junior high school, his fondness for his grandmother and his love of the railroad inspired Hsieh to spend his pocket money on model trains. He even dreamed of becoming a train engineer when he grew up, sitting in the driver's seat and chugging along the tracks toward his dreamland.

Despite not having worked for the railroad, Hsieh, still a child at heart, saw a Japanese-built model steam train seven years ago, which was designed for use in the home. "Not only did it actually run on coal, but you could even sit on top of it and drive it along the tracks," describes Hsieh with great delight. While he was planning where he could set it up in his living room, his wife suddenly said, "Why don't you make one yourself?"

Make a train? Thinking back to his studies in Spain, Hsieh recalled that Europeans would give a toy train as a gift to friends and family who had a baby boy. They believe trains are full of power, representing prosperity.

He thought about it for a while: using copper oxide would produce copper-red tones that can genuinely portray the train's metallic texture. Using the familiar subject matter of the train would be an excellent combination for teaching Taiwan's public about luster glazing.

Six years ago, at the request of a customer, Hsieh began experimenting with the silvery-yellow tones of silver oxide in order to make tea sets.

The 100% challenge

Hsieh started making ceramic trains in 2000. For the first train, he relied solely on his imagination. When done, its proportions were imbalanced; it appeared strange however one looked at it. To create a train of realistic proportions, he went several times to 228 Peace Park to take photos of Steam Locomotive No. 9, which is housed outside the National Taiwan Museum.

To turn two-dimensional photographs into three-dimensional objects, more than proportion needs to be considered. The exterior of a locomotive has more than 200 parts, each of which needs to be crafted in a different way. For example, round parts like wheels and sandboxes are molded by hand; shafts and pipes are pulled and pinched into elongated forms; couplings and windows are sculpted according to their dimensions, and matching railcars are shaped from sheets of clay.

"The parts have to be made separately, so if any piece is out of proportion it can't be assembled and it has to be redone." Then, to make sure the process goes smoothly, he standardized the scale of the wheel diameters, track gauge and couplings.

After putting it all together, he propped up the underside of the wheels and chassis with heat-resistant bricks to prevent warping during firing. The pipes on either side of the engine are comparatively thin and easily deformed, so they're fired separately during the first firing, and then are set in place for the second firing.

When the locomotive is ready for firing, it's first fired in an electric kiln at 1,240°C to vitrify the clay. Because it's the first firing, small, delicate parts like shafts and other items that don't fit well can easily warp or crack under the high heat. So before the second firing some repair work needs to be done: clay and glaze are added to warped pieces and joins, which are then fired two or three times. In all there are usually four or five firings, but sometimes up to eight may be necessary to achieve the proper glazing effects.

Hsieh notes that in the beginning, due to inadequate skill and experience, his locomotives sometimes showed cracks when they came out of the kiln. At first, he used an epoxy specially made for ceramics, but after several years it would come apart, so he demanded of himself 100% perfect firing, so that there would be no flaws at all.

An uncompromising portrayal

In 2001, Hsieh's Steam Locomotive No. 9 won the Shin Kong Mitsukoshi Award at the Ninth Taiwan Crafts Design Competition. The accurately proportioned train is eye popping, showing the metallic colors and textures, and if you gently tap it with your finger, it emits a metallic sound because it has been fully vitrified by the high temperatures. Observers are dumbstruck.

Once his art gained recognition, he started gathering information. He pored through reams of old photos, and, with his imagination and exacting composition, made ceramic models of more than 20 old, decommissioned TRA locomotives. To fire the larger ones, he imported a gas kiln, high-heat-enduring clay and lead-free glazes specially from Spain for perfect luster glazing.

In recent years, railway devotees and local history workshops, when salvaging scrapped trains, often simply remove rusted equipment from the driver's compartment, such as instrument panels, and do not replace them. To ensure that the genuine appearance of the cab is displayed, the uncompromising Hsieh made a special trip to the Umekoji Steam Locomotives Museum in Kyoto.

While in Japan, Hsieh was able to turn his favorite locomotive, a BT40, on its turntable. This engine was built by the North British Locomotive Company, a Scottish manufacturer, in 1908. The proportions were perfect, with a classical British aesthetic, as if it were a smartly dressed English gentleman. The leading and driving wheels in particular were masterfully proportioned, and the mechanical structure was solid and durable. Locomotives of this class served the TRA for as long as half a century.

Forging ahead

It was only recently that Hsieh began to relate the story of the railroad, aiming to arouse understanding and nostalgia for the steam locomotive through perceptive statements.

Last year, for Hsieh's Forging Ahead, which won second prize in the Sixth National Crafts Awards, the story layout was a narrow-guage railway engine hauling a passenger car uphill toward a wooden bridge. The driver in the cab is gingerly shifting his body as he looks ahead, one hand gripping a lever, cautiously keeping control. The conductor in the passenger car, meanwhile, pushes open a door, focusing his attention on the slope, conveying a sense of working together.

The locomotive shown in his work was recreated from a photo of a 1906 LCK20 used by the Alishan Forest Railway, and another photo of a 1914 wooden passenger car used by the Lotung Forest Railway. The wave-like patterns in the hollow underside are created by winking LED lights, giving the static piece a dynamic visual effect.

Hsieh, romantic and emotional when creating and scientific and rational when firing, aims to fuse culture and art into one. Through back-to-the-roots exhibits on themes of the lives of common folk in Taiwan, he provokes reminiscence, recapturing childhood memories of steam whistles, azuki bean popsicles and soda pop in Codd-neck bottles.