Blossoms on ice - the Kangxi blues

Source: Lady Lever Art Gallery

After a nice warm February, the blossom is out on the trees in London – just in time for the return of cold weather. Even before global warming, this must have happened in 17th century China too, perhaps inspiring the motif on this jar from the Kangxi period (1661-1722) of the Qing dynasty.

Many people may recognise this piece – or think they do – as it has been so widely copied over the centuries. The pattern depicts blossoms of the ‘prunus’ family (which includes cherries, plums and hawthorn) against a background of cracked ice. It is believed that this symbolised the approach of spring, with winter ice beginning to melt and early blossoms starting to emerge. In 19th and early 20th century writing, jars of this shape were often called ‘ginger jars’, based on the belief that they were used to hold sweets like candied ginger as gifts for friends and relatives. This particular type of jar was sometimes called a ‘hawthorn’ jar because of its decoration but the preferred description now seems to be the ‘Kangxi prunus’ jar.

From the technical perspective, the jar is notable for several reasons. It is a fine example of underglaze blue decoration, the kind used on blue-and-white porcelain of the preceding Ming dynasty (though it was invented even earlier). This decoration is achieved by painting cobalt-rich pigment onto the raw surface before applying a clear glaze on top and then firing in a kiln. Sounds simple but unless the pigment, glaze, clay, kiln temperature and kiln atmosphere are exactly right, the whole thing becomes a smeary cracked mess. Even the experts at the famous Jingdezhen kilns didn’t always get it right – hence a thriving market today in discarded broken shards (probably the only genuine Chinese ceramics I will ever afford!). But successful examples have gorgeous blue tones with subtle patterns and images somehow held intact under the smooth glaze.

This type of jar is also notable because it sparked a kind of collectors’ mania in the early 20th century. Good examples of Ming blue-and-white were still extremely rare in Europe, so the early Qing dynasty pieces were considered the most desirable. Scholars like Stephen Bushell and R L Hobson wrote about them in glowing terms, and (slightly dodgy) dealers like Joseph Duveen encouraged their millionaire clients to snap them up. Some wealthy collectors proudly accumulated several Kangxi prunus jars, which you’d think would give them a clue about how rare they were (i.e. not terribly). One of them was bought by Lord Astor for 5,900 guineas in 1905, equivalent to about £470,000 today, setting a record price for Chinese ceramics which lasted for decades.

Like other manias, this one soon came to an end, partly because fine Ming blue-and-white wares became better known. Collectors also learned that the prunus jars were predominantly made for export, whereas many Ming pieces were intended for the imperial household, making them more prestigious. In 1997, the same Astor jar was sold at Christie’s for £27,500. Today, an average example may fetch £2000-3000 at auction. The Lady Lever Art Gallery in Liverpool has no less than nine in its catalogue, either purchased by Lord Lever in the early 20th century or gifted by some other wealthy collector. In contrast, the very knowledgeable Sir Percival David (active in the late 20th century) didn’t include any in his collection which now resides at the British Museum. The BM’s solitary example was a gift from Augustus Wollaston Franks, a 19th century collector.

For me, the jar has echoes of the first Chinese ornamental pieces that my parents bought in a department store in the 1970s (the old C K Tang store on Orchard Road, for any Singaporean readers), so I’m quite fond of it. To commemorate its brief heyday, here is a montage of all nine of the jars in the Lady Lever gallery.