Collector's hands caress the love of his life
Jiang Guocui holds an erhu with the top of the neck shaped like a violin’s scroll.
A huqin with a bamboo sound box decorated with a dove and characters meaning “defending world peace”
“Huqin is my lover — a lady gifted with a beautiful voice,” said Jiang Guocui.
At 62, Jiang isn’t talking about the usual romantic liaison. He’s talking about a family of bowed string instruments frequently used in Chinese traditional music and sometimes called “spike fiddles” in English because of their long necks.
Jiang, a member of the Shanghai Collection Association, collects huqin.
The instruments, which are typically two-string, feature round, hexagonal or octagonal sound boxes connect to the bottom of the neck. The most common instrument in the family is the erhu, with a sound box covered in snakeskin.
Dating back to the Tang Dynasty (618-907), huqin is believed to have derived from the Hu people.
“Just like Chinese from different regions, there are dozens of types of huqin popular in different places,” said Jiang. “They were created for traditional Chinese operas.”
Jiang’s given name, Guocui, means “quintessence of Chinese culture.” Since learning that in his early teens, he has been committed to preserving traditional Chinese culture, calling it his “innate responsibility.”
According to Jiang, he first encountered his “lover” in his school’s Chinese orchestra. His passion continued even after the orchestra was disbanded from lack of interest by everyone but Jiang.
He told his mother that he wanted to play the huqin and asked her to buy him one.
“My mother was in charge of the household money, so that’s why I asked her rather than my father,” he said. “She gave me 20 yuan (US$3), and my father took me to a famous antique store on Huaihai Road. We bought an erhu, which cost us 16 yuan. That was the equivalent of two months of living expenses at the time.”
Having no teacher to guide him, Jiang studied the instrument by himself at home. He frequently practiced late into the evening. But it was obvious to him that professional training or not, he was unlikely to become a virtuoso player.
As that dream faded, another emerged.
“I decided I wanted to become a friend of the maestros,” said Jiang.
Pursuing that goal, Jiang decided to collect antique huqin. But working as an apprentice, he didn’t have the money to buy instruments.
Every Sunday, however, he would visit a nearby musical instruments shop to admire huqin.
“I just watched other customers buy the instruments, which is how I learned to choose a huqin,” said Jiang.
After a three-year apprenticeship ended in 1978, his monthly income rose to 36 yuan from 18 yuan. He celebrated by rushing to the shop and buying his second huqin for 29.80 yuan.
In the 1980s, Jiang tried his hand at a small business selling tie clips in front of a shirt store on Nanjing Road W.
“My monthly salary was 100 yuan then,” he said. “Believe it or not, I could earn 300 yuan in just two hours of selling tie clips. I bought two cameras in one month.”
Apart from huqin, Jiang also collects cameras, coffee utensils, antique furniture and train models. His collections are stuffed in his two private museums in the town of Huacao in Minhang District.
Some 100 of his huqin are on display in their own exhibition hall.
“I have collected about 200 huqin,” he said. “I spent over 40 years finding the first 100. With the help of the Internet, it took me only about one year to collect another 100 huqin.”
The top of a huqin is patterned with a lotus flower and the Chinese character for “double happiness.”
Jiang’s favorite huqin, once played by virtuoso Zhou Shaomei
Among his collection, his favorite instrument is one once played by Zhou Shaomei, a musician and the teacher of Liu Tianhua, a renowned player who is credited with great improvements to the instrument.
“Because of Liu’s efforts,” he said, “the erhu was elevated to solo performances, which isn’t true of other types of huqin.”
The top of the neck of his favorite instrument is shaped like a lingzhi mushroom, which symbolizes good fortune.
Jiang found this hidden gem in a small village in Jiangyin when he was visiting one day. By serendipity, he met a man in his 70s who was playing the erhu. According to the elderly man, he was a friend of Zhou’s and they often played music together.
The instrument, made-to-order in the 1920s, cost the old man’s family 10 silver dollars, which would be about US$436 in today’s money.
In order to buy the valuable instrument, Jiang stayed in the village for three days to become more acquainted. The man finally sold the erhu to him.
“It has been a source of happiness throughout my life,” said Jiang. “The sound it produces is unique.”
Pressing his fingertips onto the strings and drawing the horsehair bow across them, Jiang demonstrated its mellow, resonant tones.
“I feel like I am having a conversation with a centenarian while playing the erhu,” he said.
He has no end of plans to educate the public about huqin. For one, he would like to organize concerts, inviting huqin players to perform. For another, he wants to lend some of his instruments to accomplished players because instruments have to be played, to be loved.
“I don’t know how long I will live, maybe a dozen more years,” he said. “I really want to treasure the ‘last bar of battery.’ Mobile phone can be recharged, but our lives can’t. I hope to realize my dreams before leaving this world.”
An antique erhu music book
