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| Cutting and trimming to make the mythical creature more vivid |
Grueling journey through wind and weather
As the last rays of sunlight gradually withdraw from the glazed tile roof, artisan Dao Huu Khien still stands diligently before the screen wall at Thai Mieu (Nguyen Dynasty’s ancestral shrine), carefully placing each new ceramic fragment onto the time-worn artifact. The purplish evening light slants down, casting light upon his sun-darkened face and sturdy hands. The scent of lime mortar mingles with that of centuries-old fired bricks, as if still retaining a trace of warmth.
Raised in An Luu Hamlet, My Thuong Ward (formerly Phu My Commune, Phu Vang District), Dao Huu Khien began apprenticing in ceramic and porcelain inlay at 17 and gradually grew attached to motifs of dragons, cranes, panel compartments, and decorative borders in Nguyen Dynasty court architecture. His mentor, Truong Van An, a renowned artisan in Hue, was always deeply committed to preserving the refined intricacy of the traditional craft.
The years with his mentor also marked the beginning of a life of hardship across the relics of the former imperial capital. From Duyet Thi Duong ( Hall where the emperor received officials) and Hien Lam Cac ( Hall in the Hue Imperial Citadel ) to Ngo Mon ( Noon Gate of Hue Imperial City) and the Nguyen Dynasty royal tombs, wherever time had worn down the ancient architecture, the diligent footsteps of master and apprentice could be found, patiently restoring each detail.
“My mentor was very strict,” Khien recalled. “In the early days, I was not allowed to touch the trowel or the chisel. My work was simply to observe, commit each step to memory, then mix mortar, carry materials, gather ceramic shards, and clear the ground.” Once, eager to try fitting a small section, he did so, but his mentor took one look, shook his head, removed it, and made him start over. “If you do not understand, do not do it. A wrong inlay will ruin the work of the past.” That admonition stayed with him throughout his career.
Keeping the soul of heritage alive
After nearly three decades in the craft, artisan Dao Huu Khien said that the greatest challenge in ceramic and porcelain inlay lies not in cutting, shaping, or working at heights, but in learning patience with each fragment. For every shard placed is not merely a technical act, but an encounter with heritage.
“From my mentor, beyond technical skills, I also learned the spirit of the craft,” he shared. It is the ability to read the “form and spirit” of a structure, to sense the presence of the four sacred creatures and the four seasons in each motif. From there, he came to understand that a ceramic and porcelain inlay artisan is not merely a craftsman, but one who helps preserve and carry forward the lines left by past generations in the architecture of the Imperial Capital. “To fit a single petal or create a dragon scale, an artisan must understand Eastern philosophy, be well-versed in Hue culture, and have a clear grasp of history, so as not to distort the spirit of the old architecture,” he said.
Khien said that ceramic and porcelain inlay requires great meticulousness. A single misplaced fragment can ruin the overall composition. The artisan must “see” the form of the mythical creature in his mind, carefully weighing each curve and each movement before placing it.
To create a complete mythical creature on an ancient tiled roof, the artisan must first model it on sand, reconstructing its original form, then adjust it to the length of the roof ridge, the roof edges, and the overall perspective of the structure. The inlay stage is the most demanding and also the ultimate measure of craftsmanship. Each ceramic and porcelain fragment must be cut and fitted with precision, refined enough to “breathe life” into the creature.
He deems ceramic and porcelain inlay neither merely a construction trade nor entirely a form of fine art. The artisan must understand architectural structure, grasp the visual language of mythical creatures, flowers, and fruits, and possess the instinct to adapt to broken shards, no two alike. It is this very “incompleteness” that compels artisans to be creative within constraints, to innovate without straying from the spirit of the past.
The artisan noted that many had once pursued the craft but later abandoned it midway. Some could not endure working at heights, while others became discouraged by its meticulous and demanding nature. The craft requires an exceptionally high level of patience, while income remains unstable, dependent on each restoration and conservation project.
Over the years, artisan Dao Huu Khien has been involved in the restoration and conservation of many historic structures in Hue and several central localities. Yet what concerns him most remains the question of succession. Preserving the craft is difficult; retaining those who follow it is even more so, while many senior artisans have retired without fully passing on their expertise to the younger generation.
“This craft cannot be rushed,” he said. Precisely because it cannot be rushed, as life grows ever more fast-paced, those with the patience to remain in the craft of ceramic and porcelain inlay are becoming increasingly rare.
As dusk gradually fades, artisan Dao Huu Khien strives to complete the final dragon scales on the relief at Thai Mieu ( Nguyen Dynasty’s ancestral shrine). His careful hands seem to hold onto fragments of imperial memory. He understands that as long as there are those patient enough to bend down and gather each broken shard, the flame of ceramic and porcelain inlay will continue to burn. And the memory of the Imperial Capital will endure on every tiled roof and time-worn ridge.