One layer at a time

In an age when a painting can be scanned in seconds and reproduced endlessly by artificial intelligence with a few lines of text, it may seem strange to spend months reproducing a single work by hand.

Yet that is exactly what practitioners are doing inside Rongbaozhai, or Studio of Glorious Treasures, the venerable art and stationery shop whose history stretches back over three centuries.

There are no shortcuts here. A traditional Chinese painting is broken down into its component layers, stroke by stroke and color by color. Artists trace the lines onto thin sheets of paper, then transfer them onto wooden blocks and carve them by hand. The blocks are inked and pressed onto paper one after another, sometimes thousands of times, until a new image emerges.

Known in Chinese as muban shuiyin, or woodblock water printing, the technique is one of Rongbaozhai's defining crafts and was named a national-level intangible cultural heritage in 2006. Its basic process consists of three stages: gou — tracing and separating the color; ke — carving the blocks; and yin — printing.

However, calling it "printing" can actually be misleading. The real challenge begins long before the first impression.

After tracing the original work and breaking it into component layers, the artist uses those layers to carve the blocks. The number of blocks depends on the painting's complexity.

For a masterpiece filled with subtle colors, fine lines and overlapping washes, the number can quickly mount. One of the most demanding examples is Night Revels of Han Xizai, a celebrated court painting from the 10th century, traditionally attributed to artist Gu Hongzhong of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms (907-960) period. The work depicts a series of music, dancing, drinking, and social scenes from an evening gathering at the home of Han Xizai (902-970), a prominent official.

Rongbaozhai says its reproduction required 1,667 separate registrations. The tiny lines of facial hair, the delicate patterns on clothing, and the changes in ink density must all be re-created through successive impressions.

That sounds straightforward until one considers what is actually being divided. A brushstroke is not simply black or white. It may contain color gradations, pressure differences, and deliberately blurred edges. A barely visible wash may be essential to the painting's character.

"Woodblock water printing is not determined by what you can see," says Li Yang, a Rongbaozhai practitioner who has worked in the field for about 20 years. "It is determined by what you cannot see."

A clearly defined line can be traced. A distinct patch of color can be carved and printed. But what happens when it comes to something that appears to have no definite boundary, like watery halos, subtle washes of color and barely perceptible transitions?

"If the printer reproduces such details too literally, the result can become stiff and mechanical. If they leave them out, the copy may lose something essential to the original.

"There must be a balance between faithfulness and expressiveness," Li says.

This is also why he does not see woodblock printing as a method of duplication. In his view, the process is not a matter of transferring an image mechanically from one surface to another. Before a single block is carved, the printer must study the original painting, identify its layers of line, color, texture, and ink, and decide how to translate each element into wood, ink and paper.

"In that sense, the original painting is the first layer of the artwork: it is the source and the standard against which the reproduction is judged. But the reproduction becomes a second artistic layer, because the printer must make countless decisions about what to preserve, what to simplify, and how to re-create effects that cannot be transferred literally," Li says.

Therefore, the final image remains faithful to the original while also bearing the judgment, skill and material understanding of the person who made it.

Li studied fine art before university and developed an interest in printmaking during college. He joined Rongbaozhai where he has spent decades working with paintings from different periods, artists and styles.

That variety is what keeps the challenge alive. "The technique is only a starting point. Every new work is a new challenge. A Tang (618-907) or Song (960-1279) painting may demand one set of skills, but a work created during the 20th century may demand another. Contemporary paintings can present an entirely different set of problems."

For Li, no single formula applies.

Why spend months reproducing a painting by hand when a high-resolution scan can preserve every visible detail in seconds?

Li does not see the two as interchangeable. "Modern printing may reproduce the appearance of an image with increasing accuracy. But traditional woodblock printing carries something else: knowledge of materials, ways of seeing, historical experience, and the accumulated judgment of generations of craftsmen."

Li finds the craft's value lies partly in preserving one of the most original forms of China's traditional printing and reproduction techniques, along with the cultural knowledge embedded in them. It also records how Chinese printing influenced the development of printmaking more broadly.

The greatest threat may not be technology, but people. "Young people do come to learn the technique, particularly those with professional training in fine art. That background can be a major advantage, especially during the color-separation stage, which requires an ability to distinguish subtle differences in tone, texture and visual structure," Li says.

But attracting learners is easier than keeping them. Like many traditional crafts, woodblock printing faces a difficult economic equation. The craft demands years of training, while the financial rewards do not always match the investment. That is where the romantic ideal of craftsmanship meets the realities of life.

Luckily, interest remains. "Rongbaozhai has introduced educational programs and hands-on experiences that allow visitors to try simplified versions of woodblock printing. We also support younger artists, rather than simply looking backward at established masters," says Bao Yan, general manager of the studio.

This raises a broader question: how can a centuries-old brand remain connected to the artistic life of its own time?

People learning woodblock printing today have grown up surrounded by digital images, modern printing, and the constant change of visual culture. "There is no single 'biggest challenge' ahead. The challenge keeps changing. Today's painting becomes tomorrow's problem to solve, and tomorrow brings another artist, style and visual language," Li says.

Perhaps that is why the technique has survived. It has never really been about making the same thing over and over. It is about looking at something created by another person — sometimes hundreds of years ago — and asking a remarkably ambitious question: can we make it live again, by hand?

Li Ren contributed to this story.

CHINA DAILY