Designer homes for our feathered friends
Yan Hujin, 82, master of birdcage making in Suzhou
Early risers in Suzhou often encounter elderly men carrying their birdcages on a stroll through parks.
After both bird and man get refreshed with the morning air, the men usually head for traditional teahouses to sip tea and chat, while their birds chirp in the company of other feathered friends.
Birds as pets thrived in the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). They were housed in finely crafted cages made by skilled artisans in a tradition that started in the early Southern Song Dynasty (11271279). One noted craftsman of the time was Zhan Cheng, who lived in Suzhou.
Hundreds of years later, Yan Hujin, 82, followed in the footsteps of the masters. He has been making birdcages for more than 40 years.
His creations have a distinctive mark — the Chinese character hu, or “tiger” is engraved on the bottom of each cage.
Suzhou is the main site for the southern school of birdcages, which are square and famous for their delicacy and elegance. Tianjin is the major producer in the northern school, where cages are round and marked by magnificence and intricacy.
As a master of the southern school, Yan revived the iced-plum-roof birdcage — a technique that was lost for around 200 years. This type of birdcage is specially used to raise silvereye birds.
Iced-plum-roof birdcage, a technique revived by Yan Hujin
All the units are joined by mortise and tenons.
“I first saw the birdcage when I was in my 40s, but it was quickly purchased by a Hong Kong collector for 4,500 yuan (US$670),” said Yan. “Luckily, he left a photo to me. In the next two decades, I was always thinking how to revive the style. Not until I was 68 years old did I make it. The technique is extremely difficult.”
The top of the birdcage where 70 units as thin as toothpicks are joined by mortise and tenons is a lattice panel decorated with hollowed-out plum blossoms and branches.
“No glue is used,” Yan explained. “Everything is handmade.”
All the bars and panels of the birdcage are carved with patterns, and even the 60 gracile poles are engraved in the shape of spirals.
“The 20-cubic-centimeter bamboo birdcage weighs only around 200 grams, but it can support weights of more than 40 kilograms because of its structure,” said Yan.
Like other birdcages, the upper part of the iced-plum-roof birdcage is slightly smaller than the bottom. It takes him half a year to make one iced-plum-roof birdcage, which can sell for 100,000 yuan.
The most important of the more than 20 steps that go into its making is the first step — choosing the right material.
Yan often goes to Tianmu Mountain to choose bamboo just after the winter solstice because there are fewer worms during that period. The bamboo must be at least 7 years old and is processed and stored for one year before using.
“Craftsmen must know the characteristics of the materials,” Yan said. “Bamboo growing in the shadow of a mountain is better that growing on the sunny side. A birdcage requires 3 kilograms of bamboo to complete.”
In terms of roofs, some birdcages are closed while others are hollowed-out. The former variety is used to raise the wild birds. Once tamed, they are transferred to the latter style.
“The untamed birds tend to look up to the sky, and, therefore, the top of the birdcage needs to be closed,” said Yan.
The bamboo must be at least 7 years old and is processed and stored for one year before using.
He now has around 200 apprentices. Among them are many people with disabilities or from vulnerable families. Yan said he wants to enrich their lives by teaching them how to make birdcages and earn good livings
“I know how hard their lives are because I once experienced hard times,” he said. “Unfortunately, nobody helped me at that time, but I want to help them now. There are two significant things in a person’s life: making a living and helping others.”
Born into a rich family, Yan studied at an old-style private school during his childhood. He is obviously well-educated. He recited several ancient Chinese poems during the interview.
However, the early death of his father, who was a landlord, and political upheaval in China brought the family down.
His mother remarried, and his four siblings were sent to other families. Yan was forced to make his own way alone. He pulled a rickshaw and sold straw before working on an airstrip in Wuxi in Jiangsu Province and on a railway track in northwest China.
“I joke that I often do ‘great’ things that ‘shake’ heaven and earth,” said Yan.
There is no denying his diehard optimism.
Returning to Suzhou at the age of 21, Yan worked at a brick and tile factory and married a rural woman. Fairly poor, Yan had to live with his parents-in-law.
“I assured them that I would build a house in five years,” he said. “Actually, it was really hard. Every day I kept thinking about ways to earn enough money to fulfill my promise.”
In 1958, Yan’s monthly salary was 36.4 yuan, which was just enough to feed his family. He had to look for supplementary ways to earn extra money.
He first tried several small businesses. He carried 25 kilograms of bamboo to the city center every Sunday, his only day off work, earning 3 to 4 yuan a day. Later, he shifted to selling chickens, using straw immersed in water overnight to bulk up the chickens’ weight by tying their feet with the swollen straw.
Nevertheless, the income was nowhere near enough for a house. When he was 28, Yan heard from a friend that making birdcages enabled people to make a lot of money. Taking a broken birdcage back home, Yan explored its structure and fixed it. As an amateur, he often visited birdcage masters and stores that sold the most exquisite cages.
“Carrying a pencil and a notebook, I went to Shanghai where I heard there was a rare birdcage,” he said. “I didn’t ask the shopkeeper to take it down from the showcase because I didn’t want to bother him since I had no intention of buying it. I looked up at the birdcage, walked out of the store and made drawings of it.”
With over 10 years’ experience, Yan left the bricks and tiles factory and became a professional birdcage maker in his 40s.
“Master Yan is the benefactor who has changed my life,” said apprentice Fang Qinghua, who is in his 40s. “What’s more, he drives the economy of my village and neighboring villages.”
Having heard a lot about Yan, Fang and his brother, who both hailed from a poor mountain village in Anhui Province, visited Yan and begged him to teach them his skills. Climbing mountains and wading across rivers, Yan went to the Fang household to see their home environment and solicit their parents’ opinion.
Passing the skill from one person to another, almost every household in the village is now engaged in making birdcages.
The once underdeveloped village has become known as the “birdcage village” of China. The once poor villagers now live in new houses.
Yan Hujin guides one of his apprentices Fang Qinghua.
