Above all, the basic process of woodblock printing provided a simple, highly effective means to disperse information. Originally, it enabled the reproduction of Buddhist images and scriptures for prayers or talismans, the production of images of folk gods and protective deities that would be pasted on walls, or the manufacture of paper cash, real or funerary.1 It was also used to standardize Confucian texts for civil service examinations, for mass-produced books, and, with sophisticated patronage and great technical innovation during the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644 ce), for the publication of painting manuals and deluxe picture albums that mimicked paintings. Most prints up to the early twentieth century in China were produced by hand from carved woodblocks, using traditional watersoluble pigments on receptive handmade papers. Inevitably, China's modernization during the last century impacted the ideology, imagery, and techniques of printmaking as an art so that woodblock printing gained a different kind of prominence. Rather than specifically drawing from home sources, the modern Chinese woodcut movement, which began in the 1930s, took its inspiration from German and Expressionist woodcuts, Soviet wood engravings, and Japanese creative prints, setting a model for the high-Communist period.2 The black-and-white German and Soviet images were printed (usually on presses) with oil-based ink in the European tradition begun by Johannes Gutenberg. In China, the denser oil-based colors heightened the drama required of new imagery. As Chinese artists discarded traditional subject matter for socialist ones, oil-based woodcuts came to dominate much of twentieth-century Chinese printmaking. From 1985 or so, China's progressive opening up and the growth of a market economy in the 1990s had repercussions for art, and for printmaking. There was a huge increase in artists producing and living from their work, although most favored painting over printmaking as they endeavored to understand the art market. Since 2000, however, there has been a steady revival of printmaking as art. Water-based woodblock printing is also being appreciated more, for its special qualities and roots in China. This is particularly so in southern China around Jiangsu and Zhejiang, but also in Sichuan and Heilongjiang. I studied the Japanese method of water-based woodblock printing (referred to today as mokuhanga) in Tokyo and Kyoto. The techniques and materials for mokuhanga were developed from Chinese prototypes, but their evolution meant subtle changes to several features. This was because production methods in the two countries were different, but also because the rise of huge urban centers and a wealthy merchant class in the Edo period (1603–1867 ce) resulted in massive demand for popular prints, known as ukiyo-e. Paper production became a profitable enterprise and certain papers were specifically developed to complement the appealing, complex graphics of ukiyo-e. Such papers could take multiple printings, allowed for very controlled ink dispersal,3 enabled the definition of intricate lines, complemented the mineral- and vegetable-based colors, and survived much handling before and after sale. On the other hand, in China, no papers were specifically manufactured for traditional water-based woodblock printing (referred to today as shuiyin banhua 水印版画). Even during the golden age of printing in the Ming Dynasty, the beautiful multicolor woodblock images on letter papers and in painting manuals and collectors' albums were still printed on the same paper used for painting and calligraphy. This was because the prints generally sought to achieve the same, or similar, effects as painting and calligraphy, namely the control of ink: soft and hard, wet and dry. It is to exemplify these features of ink absorption and dispersal that Chinese papers have been adapted over the centuries. Traditionally, woodblock images and texts were impressed on several different papers, some crude, some fine, probably mixtures of bamboo fiber and paper-mulberry bast (sangpi 桑皮).4 But, for painting, calligraphy, and fine printmaking, particularly since the Ming Dynasty, the most famous and prized paper of all has been xuan \[宣\], still made today in Jingxian, Anhui province from a combination of rice straw and local elm bast.5 In addition to varying fiber content, xuan papers are produced in different sizes and thicknesses: single-, double-, and triple-ply. Depending on whether and how much potassium alum is worked into the paper during production, they will be unsized (sheng 生), half sized (banshu 半熟), or sized (shu 熟). All papers have a rougher side and a smoother side that correspond to which side of the paper was laid on the drying wall, and all carry the subtle water marks of the bamboo-rod screens on which they are made. These varying factors partly determine how the paper responds to ink. In general the thicker the papers are, the more absorbent they are. And the more sizing there is, the less room for special bleeding and dispersal effects. Woodblock printmaking involves a different kind of control of ink and paper than painting and calligraphy, with the wood and water becoming extra elements in the process. Today, in the typical shuiyin banhua process, which basically matches the mokuhanga method, the woodblock is first dampened, then brushes of varying surface areas spread water-soluble ink or pigments over the raised design, either evenly or in gradation, according to the desired effect. For a color print, water-soluble pigments would traditionally be prepared by grinding a powder, to which would be added the required amount of water and perhaps a binding agent. This would be brushed on and into the blocks in the same way as black ink. Colored pigments are essentially the same as those used in painting. As with calligraphy and painting, the ink can be applied in just the right quantity to achieve dry or wet effects. Paper, usually dampened, is then laid, smooth side down, on the fixed and registered block so that the image, or part of it, appears in the desired position on the paper. Pressure is then applied to the paper from the back to take the impression. In China, the paper on the block may be rubbed with a cazi 擦子 (a wooden brick wrapped in palm fiber) or other burnishers, while in Japan it is usually rubbed with a baren (a disc of plaited bamboo fibers covered with the outside leaf of a bamboo shoot). Printing in the Chinese method requires less pressure because the papers are generally thinner. There are many methods for registering the paper in position, but the most noteworthy in China is done by clamping one end of the required amount of papers in position then bringing each (usually pre-dampened) sheet of paper over, one by one, to lie on the block, which is freshly inked for each printing. After the image is printed, each sheet of paper, still clamped at one end, is dropped through a space in the table (sometimes between two tables). This process requires skill and, with minor adjustments for each sheet of paper, works remarkably well.6 It is significantly different from the prevailing Japanese method for registration, which uses special indents in each block. Both registration techniques are low-tech yet highly effective techniques for editioning. In 2004, I went to China as a visiting artist in the printmaking department at Sichuan Institute of Fine Arts, Chongqing. Here, in addition to screenprinting, lithography, and etching, students could learn black-and-white or color woodblock printing, either using oil- or water-based pigments. In addition to xuan paper, they printed on a highly absorbent filter paper, guoluzhi 锅炉纸, to produce monoprints. While the ability to control water in this process corresponds to traditional shuiyin banhua, prints are difficult to edition. At the institute, rather than work with xuan paper, which I identified at the time (wrongly) as a painter's paper, I experimented with guoluzhi and a local thick pi 皮 paper that bore some paper-mulberry bast in it. The pi had a natural creamy color, was heavy, and resembled the paper I used in Japan, also made from paper mulberry (kozo). In my first experiments, I over-dampened the pi, which easily tore and mottled. In short, my experiments yielded poor results, although I eventually had some success using unsized xuan and thick brown bamboo zhu 竹 paper to achieve widely different results. More recently in my studio I set out to experiment again, this time methodically, with five different Chinese papers, intending to record my results. The five papers I had were: a double-ply pi, a single-ply pi, an unsized single-ply xuan, an unsized double-ply xuan, and a sized double-ply xuan. These papers, and others I have bought in China, are produced in quite large sheets and may be trimmed to size at the mill so that they do not have deckled edges all round, unlike Japanese papers, which tend to be made to a fixed size of approximately 90 x 60 centimeters. For my experiment, I printed one set of papers dampened and one set dry, and chose two simple images to be printed from woodblocks. One image was suitably Chinese, of a pine tree on a mountaintop amongst clouds. The other was of an amorphous branching shape in black and blue-gray. The pine tree design consisted of six blocks: two to be printed in black, three to be printed with various beige-grays, and one in a bluish green, all using water-soluble colors. For the upper section of the image, I printed the beige-gray clouds, then the bluish green of the tree, and then the black of the tree and hills on top. I experimented with printing this black block dry and damp, to see how it bled on different papers. For the lower section of the image, I printed the black line block first, and two cloud blocks one on top of the other in succession to see how the paper stood up, achieving modestly different results. For the second image, the branching shape, I printed first in blue-gray and then in black, sometimes in succession, and sometimes letting the paper dry between printings before redampening. For both images, printing on the undampened single-ply pi, which is very thin, achieved results that were sharper than on the dampened version, which bled easily and was difficult to control. Colors were pale and to get them deeper would involve printing the same color more than once. Otherwise, in my experiments, the papers all worked better dampened than undampened. Controlled dampening, which left the paper slightly translucent and never floppy, enabled more control of the printing, limited mottling, and encouraged clearer and richer details than on dry paper. I noted that the black ink bled more readily than any of the color pigments. To promote bleeding on the unsized dampened papers, I could spray with a water mister in specific areas, often causing the ink to disperse in wonderful fractals. Whether I used singleor double-ply xuan papers made little difference, at least for these two simple images, but I felt that my own printing techniques, from my experiences with Japanese papers, worked better with the heavier pi and xuan papers. Depending on how water-saturated the papers were, even the sized ones, they all allowed some bleeding, unlike most Japanese papers I use. My results are not necessarily hard and fast, and were I to edition a print methodically on, say, a good double-ply xuan, I would develop a technique suited to my own purposes and to the effect I wanted from the print itself. This would be achieved by judiciously dampening the paper at each step, adjusting the speed at which I printed so that the paper or blocks do not dry, and regulating the humidity in the room. How much water I added to the pigment, how much ink I used on the block, as well as how much hand pressure I applied to the baren when printing would all be very important, too. For shuiyin banhua, the truth is that each artist will eventually develop a personal set of working methods within the general boundaries of the technique. Most contemporary artists practicing printmaking in China have learned the techniques of shuiyin banhua, whether they continue to use them or not. The UK-based artist He Weimin 何為民, who studied art in China's northeast in the 1980s, is an accomplished ink painter and draughtsman as well as a skilled printmaker in both oil- and water-based printing. Referring to the latter, he explains: "I normally use good-quality xuan paper, usually yuban 玉版 (jade block) xuan double- or triple-layer paper or te jing pi 特靜皮 (extra fine bark) xuan paper. I do get papers dampened before printing and leave them in a plastic bag for several hours. Occasionally I print with dry paper, which has to be very thin. In general, good-quality Chinese xuan papers are tolerant when I dampen them, although still fragile. I have even printed multiblock lithographs with dampened xuan paper. I rarely use pi paper since it is less absorbent than … xuan paper. To prevent unwanted bleeding, one could use dry paper to print, but … bleeding is often caused by too much ink on the block, not because of the dampened paper, unless it's too wet. Surely Chinese papers are fragile when they are wet, but good-quality ones should be relatively strong, like that of Hongxing (紅星, Red Star) brand xuan papers, which contain more bark fibers. Thicker xuan paper is easy to control because it dries slowly.7 He Weimin's experience with shuiyin banhua is fairly typical of printmakers who have used this medium. In China, several woodblock printmakers (many based in Hangzhou) have been researching and experimenting with shuiyin banhua, and there is something of a revival of Ming Dynasty Jiangnan 江南 techniques at studios such as Zizhuzhai 紫竹斋, under the directorship of Wang Chao 王超 at the China Academy of Art, and at Shizhuzhai 十竹斋, where the hand production of exquisitely printed letter papers (jianpu 笺谱) has been mastered by Wei Lizhong 魏立中.8 Other notable artists using traditional waterbased techniques with great skill are: Chen Qi 陈琦, Fang Limin 方利民, Xu Jianwen 徐建文, Ling Junwu 凌君武, Zhang Xiaofeng 张晓锋, and Zhang Ke 張珂. While very contemporary in outlook, their work inevitably captures some of the elegance of traditional woodblock prints with subjects that refer, often conceptually, to China's painterly traditions. Many of the artists, such as Fang Limin9 and Zhang Ke, deliberately exploit the quirks of ink bleeding and mottling so that no two prints in an edition are exactly the same. From works such as these, it is exciting to understand that a traditional form of printing, so essentially Chinese, is having its own quiet renaissance. ___________ notes 1. Tsuen-Hsuin Tsien, Paper and Printing, volume 5, part 1 of Joseph Needham, Science and Civilization in China (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1985). 2. For an excellent introduction to the history of modern and contemporary woodblock prints, see Xiaobing Tang, Multiple Impressions: Contemporary Chinese Woodblock Prints (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Museum of Art, 2011). 3. In mokuhanga, small amounts of rice glue (nori) are often combined with the pigments when brushed into the blocks, which creates a smooth surface and limits bleeding and mottling. 4. David Barker, Traditional Techniques in Contemporary Chinese Printmaking (London: A&C Black, 2005), 43. 5. Angela Wai-sum Liu, "Comparing the Properties of Contemporary Chinese Papers Manufactured in China with Japanese Kozo Washi Paper" (paper, Central Conservation Section, Leisure and Cultural Services Department, Hong Kong, 2006). 6. Barker, 53–60. 7. He Weimin, e-mail message to the author, April 8, 2014. 8. Other studios in China that produce traditional water-based woodblock prints are Rongbaozhai in Beijing and Duoyunxuan in Shanghai. 9. Fang Limin, "Chinese Water Printing," YouTube video, uploaded by University of Michigan Museum of Art, August 10, 2011, in conjunction with the exhibition Multiple Impressions: Contemporary Chinese Woodblock Prints, http://www. youtube.com/watch?v=DlDy1g6LMvQ.
