The present is an elusive concept. The better part of mankind, particularly the optimists, take refuge in considering the future, already charted by plans and blueprints, and adopt the latest trends and fashions usually with little trouble. Those that prefer the past find it perhaps something more substantial, something that can be seen and felt. Such people, not surprisingly, often turn their eye toward antiques.

One may take collecting antiques to be a highly civilized pastime, but archeological evidence indicates that cavemen as early as 500,000 years ago may have been bitten by the collecting bug. In his work on Peking Man, Henri Breuil found bones arranged by size and length lined up side by side in prehistoric dwellings. Whether such treatment was intended to celebrate a hunt, commemorate a feast, or record the presence of a rare animal is unclear. But the motives of Peking Man probably differed little from those that spur people to save objects today: to remember the important and to cherish the beautiful.

With a long and illustrious past, China has always highly regarded antiques and antique collecting. The tremendous expansion of attractive and inexpensive consumer goods and the spread of education in Taiwan have created a population increasingly fascinated by old articles. Household objects, such as boxes, fired pots, and grandma's hookah, not given a second thought a few generations ago, now are viewed as precious and special. One often hears of people living in older, residential districts digging in their backyards and finding artifacts of considerable historic value.

Collecting does not stop at the backyard. Many people head for small villages in the countryside to trade new articles for old, and the goods include everything from quilts and embroidered shoes to toilets and chamber pots. Others, such as antique dealers, prefer to buy rather than trade, returning with truckloads of objects, sometimes on assignment from private museums.

The pursuit of antiques, like most human activities, has its good and bad points. On the one hand, it enables people to better appreciate the past and the type of life led by generations before us. On the other hand, the profit involved with the trade prompts no small amount of thievery. Moreover, taking an object from its original function as an article-for-use and making it an article-for-decoration frequently robs it of its original simplicity and charm.

Discussion of antiques often leads to consideration of their price, whose fluctuation attracts the interest of connoisseur and novice alike. The sale at Southeby's in London a few years ago of a Ching dynasty (1644-1911) blue porcelain vase for US$1 million sent insiders buzzing over whether such an object was worth such a fabulous price. Antique auctions, however, sell goods under much different conditions than do department stores, meaning there is no certainty that another Ching dynasty blue porcelain vase would also fetch US$1 million. Availability and demand vary widely, and if the handful of buyers interested in the vase that day had decided it was worth only US$100,000 or US$10,000, then that would stood as its "intrinsic" value.

The antique market can be quite unpredictable. Though the commodities may be old, fashion still plays an important role, with bronzeware this year replacing last year's rage, ancient jade, and so forth. Most dealers buy articles expecting them to maintain or appreciate in value, but sometimes nasty shocks occur. Chinese colored earthenware previously was extremely rare, with the Imperial Palace Museum having only a few samples. People collected shards as if they were pearls. Recent tomb excavations in mainland China, however, have unearthed thousands of such objects, and as they spread throughout the world, their price has plummeted to less than one hundredth of their former value.

Geography also affects the value of an antique. Books predating the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) are considered extremely precious in Taiwan, with materials from the Ching and the early Republican period being sometimes classified as antiques. Sizable sums will be spent for such articles. In contrast, books from the Ming can be readily found in Jinbocho in Tokyo, and are sold at reasonable prices. Collectors in Southeast Asia do not have to look long for Ming and Ching pottery, and while the quality varies, the price is a good deal lower than in Taiwan.

The antique business in Taiwan began in bookstores. After 1945, when the Japanese left the island, they sold many antiques to private parties, and several booksellers on Kulin Street in Taipei marketed old articles along with rare books. Patrons at first were most interested in the books, but after a few years as supplies dwindled, many owners turned their eye toward calligraphy and painting. Later the Taipei bookselling center moved to the Kuanghua Market, and Kulin Street dealers converted their stores into a downstairs part selling science and reference books and a cluttered upstairs featuring a wide array of stunning antiques. Many stores today on the third story of the Chunghua Market sell fine specimens of jade and pottery, and despite their small size and drab appearance, several boast an international reputation.

Auctions today are commonplace, being held in Taipei every weekend. Opening prices frequently are low, but once an article whets the interest of a few buyers, the selling price then may exceed the original one by as much as ten or one hundred times. Prior to their sale, the objects are exhibited, allowing a close inspection by the public, and then are brought out individually to be bid upon. Anyone may call out their price and bidding stops when no one is willing to pay more. Should the final bid fall short of the minimum fixed price, the auctioneer has the option to refuse to sell, but if the price is exceeded, the antique must be sold. And if the auctioneer has a rare change of heart, only he or she can compete against the highest bidder.

Auctions in Taipei tend to be much wilder than those in New York and London. Auctioneers are quite adept at inciting buyers into higher and higher bids, knowledgeably discussing the attributes of the antique at hand (a description which could well be considerably exaggerated), and in general turning the event into an intense, pressure-filled spectacle. Many also participate in the bidding, which is never seen in large-scale international auctions, leaving all to wonder if his bid is true or bluff, and adding further to the excitement. Finally, after all the bids have been made, down comes the gavel, ending this great piece of theatre.

While the procedures of exhibit, announcement, and sale are the same, antique selling is handled a bit differently at Southeby's in London, the world's largest auction house. Turnover is extremely heavy, with some articles being exhibited for only a couple of afternoons. Southeby's also prepares months in advance detailed catalogues of their goods, which are so well-informed they often serve as works of art history. Many overseas buyers simply review the catalogues and then send agents to the auction to do their bidding.

As the auction begins, all bidders are equipped with a pen and a round, fan-like card to signal bids to the auctioneer. Video terminals along the sides of the room show the item up for sale, and more catalogues and materials are distributed, giving a description of the article, its number, and minimum price. The auctioneer, his expressionless face betraying not the slightest opinion toward the proceedings, opens the bidding, acknowledging the raised cards which pop up as the price goes higher and higher. If, after three calls, the price cannot be raised, the object is declared sold.

Auctioneers are usually rotated during the course of the auction for reasons of fatigue. The work demands a quick eye and tongue and a steady hand, and is conducted at a pace that would quickly exhaust the man off the street. Such speed is necessary, for otherwise auction houses could never dispose of their extensive inventory.

At present Taipei boasts about ten auction houses, which sell antiques to packed audiences at least twice a week. Collecting antiques has always possessed a mystique, breaking many a bankbook and family. As Taiwan's population becomes more affluent, those that have an eye for old articles are urged to be prudent in the pursuit of this venerable pastime.

[PictureExplain]

This antique store specializes in calligraphy scrolls. This scroll, usually not on display, is from the Ming dynasty.

Archeologist Henri Breuil drew this picture illustrating his conception of the daily life of Peking Man. At lower left are the arranged animal bones, hypothesized tobe a prehistoric "antique collection."

This fan was painted by Giuseppe Castiglione, who lived in China during the 1700s.

Some antique stores specialize in crockery and furniture. Often very common household articles wind up being considered antiques.

Old homes, if not properly maintained and cared for, not only deteriorate but also become the target of thieves and vandals.

An upraised gavel and expectant faces--the scene of an antique auction.

A catalogue from Sotheby's in New York on Chinese art, with a T'ang dynasty vase on the cover.

Archeologist Henri Breuil drew this picture illustrating his conception of the daily life of Peking Man. At lower left are the arranged animal bones, hypothesized to　be a prehistoric "antique collection.".

This fan was painted by Giuseppe Castiglione, who lived in China during the 1700s.

Some antique stores specialize in crockery and furniture. Often very common household articles wind up being considered antiques.

Old homes, if not properly maintained and cared for, not only deteriorate but also become the target of thieves and vandals.

An upraised gavel and expectant faces--the scene of an antique auction.

A catalogue from Sotheby's in New York on Chinese art, with a T'ang dynasty vase on the cover.