Peking Velvet Flower Craftsman

*All conversations published have gained the consent of speakers. 

A video of Master Cai’s studio, from Bilibili channel “Natural-made Objects” (“自然造物”)

    Master Cai and his wife, Fei, responded most eagerly when I contacted them for an interview. The kind middle-aged couple’s first words, when I told them I was very curious and had a lot of questions, were “spill it all out, and we’ll see if we can help.”

    First and foremost, I wondered about the difference between traditional Peking velvet flowers and their modernized velvet flowers. 

    “Traditional Peking velvet flowers are dominantly red, and most require some sort of symbolism to be packed into the piece,” Fei said before her husband could answer. She smiled at me, the corners of her eye wrinkling. It was apparent that after a lifetime of supporting her husband, she was also very knowledgeable about the craft.

Master Cai’s work

    “Yes,” Master Cai pulls a piece of his from the wall, “look at, for example, the symmetrical pair of hairpins. Do you notice anything?”

    “Ah! Aren’t they the ‘xi’ character? These must have been used for a wedding, right?” I exclaimed.

    “You’re exactly right. Red symbolizes good luck, and many wedding accessories would have been red, including the couple’s apparel and decorations around their house. Velvet flowers are made for formal occasions like weddings; however, this means that the shapes we’re making are limited. You’ve probably already noticed that although we call this craft flowers, the subject was often not flowers. Traditional shapes are words, clouds, flowers, butterflies, or phoenix-like birds.”

    “Modern velvet flowers don’t have this limit. There are no restrictions on symbolism, color, or shape, and it allows our creativity to soar,” Fei gestures to me toward another frame on their wall.

Master Cai’s work

    I noted, “The colors definitely give off a less heavy feeling. Perhaps because the hue is lighter?”

    They both nodded.

    I was suddenly curious about how velvet flowers changed through time. “Since when has this craft been developed?”

    “It’s been 3,400 years,” Master Cai said. I could see the pride shining in his eyes.

    “That’s incredible. I always thought the Qing Dynasty was when velvet flowers were invented?” I voiced my confusion.

    “I’m guessing you have that perception because the Qing is the golden age of velvet flowers. It’s actually the Tang Dynasty, though—you love the Hanfu Revolutionist culture, right? Does this look familiar?” Fei showed me a gorgeous red flower.

Master Cai’s work recreating a Tang velvet flower

    I made an immediate connection. “That painting scroll! Court Ladies Adorning Their Hair with Flowers? Were some of these flowers velvet flowers?”

    “Not all, but definitely some. Women back then loved their big flowers,” Fei chuckles. “Stylistically, the Peking velvet flower sector itself, though, began in the Ming Dynasty; it would soon reach its peak in the Qing.”

Master Cai’s work recreating a Qing velvet flower

    “Were velvet flowers used only for accessorizing?”

    Master Cai responded this time. “The market actually was fairly big; otherwise, our craft wouldn’t have been passed down for over three thousand years. Velvet flowers were decorations many who pursued a decent quality of life would put in their houses. Some flowers were put on the walls; some life-sized birds were even put directly into the house.” He showed me a picture on his phone of a hanging frame he made to commemorate the pandemic and then two more photos of birds he made as an apprentice: a chicken family and a pair of peacocks. His expression softened with tenderness as he gazed at his work.

Master Cai’s phoenix commemorating the pandemic. Taken from Fei’s WeChat post, screenshotted on my phone

Master Cai’s chicken family

    “How do you make one of these beautiful flowers? Can everyone do it?” 

    

    “You’re most welcome to sign up for one of my classes if you want to,” Master Cai laughed, “it’s not that hard to become a beginner. We use red copper to build out a ‘bone structure’ and then twist colored silk threads until they have a velvet-like texture. Scissors are used to cut the pieces into the desired shape. When we finish building every part, we put the whole structure together, and you have a beautiful result. Nonetheless, it is hard to do it well. I struggle with blending colors even now.”

    “What is the environment of the market like?” I wondered.

    “Among the intangible cultural heritage crafts, we’re doing pretty well. My work was worn at the Beijing Olympics, and I’ve received a decent number of commissions from fashion designers. Girls who wear Hanfu buy my crafts to decorate their hairstyles, too. Fei runs the online shop and outreach. There aren’t always a lot of customers, but more and more are signing up for my classes. We do well enough to get by.” Master Cai said. Then, more determinedly, “I’m not going to let this craft die. If I do, how will I go underground to meet my own master?” Fei put a hand on his arm in support.

One of Master Cai’s fashion commissions

Hair decoration Master Cai sells to Hanfu Revolutionists

    I am so glad that they have each other. I don’t know if I can spend my life perfecting my craft—reporting and expanding awareness for intangible cultural heritages—yet, but seeing how they preserve in theirs gives me courage.