Chinese porcelain artist Chen Qing has a vivid memory of her grandfather. It was the only time he wrote down the formula for her family’s distinctive red pigment.
He asked her mother to memorize it and burned the paper minutes later. The secret has since been passed down orally from one generation to the next.
"My mother did not reveal the formula to me until I was over 30,” Chen said.
Her family has practiced the craft since around 1860 in Jingdezhen, known as China’s "Porcelain Capital.” It is located in Jiangxi province, about 1,180 kilometers (735 miles) southeast of Beijing.
Jingdezhen’s pottery-making history spans more than 2,000 years. It began during the Han Dynasty, and its porcelain sites were inscribed on UNESCO’s World Heritage List in 2026.
Jingdezhen’s craftsmen have kept alive techniques once used to produce porcelain for the imperial court. That knowledge later spread to private artisans.
Chen’s ancestors adopted some of those traditions after the fall of the Qing Dynasty in 1912.
"The craft is very difficult for an outsider to master,” Chen said. "A family might spend nearly a century developing a single technique.”
Two tables in her studio are covered with brushes, unfinished pieces and pigments. She works in silence, a lamp lighting her strokes.
Chen’s fingers never touch the porcelain’s surface. She steadies her hand against its outer edge, holding the brush firmly as she paints delicate, precise strokes.
Painting a porcelain teacup can take days to complete. A single particle of dust or sweat could ruin the piece and require her to start from scratch.
Landscapes are the most difficult scenes to paint because their boundaries are not clear. A mountain summit might be emerald green, gradually shifting to brown and other warmer colors farther down the slope.
"Mastering a craft is a lifelong process,” Chen said. "Few people are willing to spend more than 10 years learning such a painstaking craft.”
Artists like Chen work alongside archaeological sites and museums to preserve China’s porcelain heritage.
Jingdezhen’s Imperial Kiln Institute researches and restores ceramics excavated from an adjacent complex, where pieces for emperors were crafted in kilns whose remains are still visible today.
The institute is incorporating new technologies into its work, including artificial intelligence, to help match and reconstruct ancient porcelain fragments.
"By the establishment of our ceramic gene bank, we can collect all kinds of information,” said the institute’s president, Weng Yanjun. "We hope that we can retrieve ancient technology with modern science.”
That research can also shed light on the culture and beliefs that surrounded porcelain-making centuries ago.
Among the tiles made at Jingdezhen’s imperial kilns were those used in the Bao’en Pagoda.
It was part of a Buddhist temple complex that was destroyed during a 19th-century rebellion in the city of Nanjing. Its exterior walls were covered with porcelain tiles, each bearing an image of the Buddha.
Traces of other religious traditions can also be found in porcelain studied by the institute, Weng said.
"Islam, Buddhism, Taoism and, later on, European Catholic Christianity harmoniously blend into the porcelain decorations,” he added.
Within Jingdezhen’s imperial kiln complex stands a shrine commemorating Tong Bin, the protective spirit of ceramics.
Known as the "Immortal Master of Wind and Fire” or "Kiln God,” Tong was revered during the Qing dynasty for sacrificing himself in protest against the abuse of kiln workers, according to local tradition.
The shrine remains open today, with a statue honoring Tong inside alongside figures representing other traditional roles in porcelain-making.
"In ancient times, the technology was not as advanced as it is today, so, in many cases, people had to rely on their beliefs - their gods - to help bring good luck and better results,” Weng said.
Some Jingdezhen craftsmen say they hold no particular beliefs associated with porcelain-making.
Others display figures of Budai - or the laughing Buddha - in their workshops as symbols of good fortune and prosperity.
For artisans like master Sun Lixin, however, the work retains a spiritual dimension. He is a fourth-generation practitioner who learned the trade from his father at age 13.
"Some traditional rituals have faded considerably,” Sun said. "Yet in the hearts of craftspeople, that reverence remains.”
Every time he paints or fires a piece, Sun is mindful of the hundreds of millions of years of geological history the white clay has undergone before reaching his hands.
He does not visit Jingdezhen’s shrine, but has a practice of his own. Sun instinctively bows to the Kiln God before a firing, wishing for it to be successful and for fine porcelain to emerge.
"If we do not care for it, paint it with devotion and treasure it, how could we possibly do it justice?” Sun said.
While Jingdezhen’s pottery-making continues to be passed down within families, universities and residency programs host new generations of Chinese and international practitioners.
Paola Masi is an Italian ceramic artist in a residency program through October.
She said Song dynasty porcelain shaped her early training. So coming to Jingdezhen feels like going back to the roots of her own path as an artist.
Chinese artist Huang Qi graduated from Jingdezhen Ceramic University in 2015 and left the city to work elsewhere. She eventually decided to come back and is also now an artist-in-residence.
"Jingdezhen is where my dream began,” Huang said. "More and more people are coming and the city is attracting growing attention.”
Encountering fellow craftspeople has allowed her to learn new techniques, while Jingdezhen’s inscription on UNESCO’s World Heritage List makes her optimistic about the future.
"It gives us confidence,” Huang said. "Things will continue to get better.” – AP
