Tan Chwee Lian picks up a small paddle, her finger resting on a groove worn into the wood over 70 years of making Buddhist and Taoist deities in her shop, one of the last of its kind in Singapore.
Facing competition from mass-produced items and lacking heirs to take up the trade, the traditional craft is in danger of dying out.
Tan’s more-than-a-century-old shop in downtown Singapore, tucked between hip cafes and boutiques, is one of the city-state’s last effigy establishments still making the wooden statues by hand.
Photo: AFP
The 92-year-old great-grandmother has been making the wooden statues since her arranged marriage to effigy craftsman Ng Tian Sang at the age of 18.
“I sat beside (my husband) and watched... when he left to buy things or run errands I would take over, then he would come back and tell me what I did wrong,” Tan said while using the wooden paddle to roll out a piece of dough made of joss stick ash using a secret family recipe.
She rolled out the mixture until it was a thin thread, then used two bamboo sticks to attach it to a wooden statue in an intricate pattern to demonstrate thread sculpture, a traditional carving technique from southeastern China. Although she is now retired from crafting, she comes to the Say Tian Hng Buddha Shop daily, helping out with odd tasks from her desk at the front of the traditional shophouse stacked with hundreds of gods looking out from the shelves.
Photo: AFP
Her son, 71-year-old Ng Yeow Hua, runs the shop, making, selling and repairing Taoist and Buddhist idols for temples and devotees.
Like many Singaporeans, the family’s origins can be traced back to China, from where many people emigrated in the 19th and early 20th centuries in search of a better life.
Ng’s grandfather founded the shop along with his brother in 1896, after moving to Singapore from Kinmen, an island in modern-day Taiwan.
Photo: AFP
Ng’s son, Ng Tze Yong, is now reinventing the business by running tours of the workshop as well as educational programs on Chinese culture.
Ng hopes the art can be passed down through the generations.
“If (my son) has the interest he can continue, but don’t force it,” he said.
To ensure that the art continues, the 43-year-old former journalist decided to become an apprentice several years ago. He now works in the shop one day a week, in addition to his day job at a local charity.
‘BEAUTY OF IMPERFECTION’
Handmade effigies take up to three months to make by artisans who must pick up the skills over years of informal learning and are entrusted with trade secrets passed down over generations. In comparison, machine-made statues are mass-produced, cost a fraction of the price and can be delivered quickly. “The customers that come to us believe in the beauty of imperfection, of things made by hand... in the authenticity of something that is made to worship divinity,” the younger Ng said.
“But yes, it has caused a decline in the business,” he admitted. “I’m trying to learn the craft from my dad and my grandma before it’s too late.”
In addition to learning decorative techniques, he must familiarize himself with scores of Taoist deities, each with a unique story.
“In Taoism (there) is this idea that you don’t have to be perfect. None of these gods are perfect,” he said.
For example, legend has it that the monkey god rebelled against heaven but redeemed himself after protecting a monk on a journey to procure holy texts from India. He is sometimes depicted with golden eyes believed to be able to spot evil. For the family, the pieces play an important role in the lives of their customers when they are going through rough patches.
“Throughout that time, these effigies were the ones that gave them the hope and encouragement to move on... so we take that very seriously,” Ng said.
He is recording all of his family’s knowledge and eventually hopes to take on other apprentices to ensure the shop can keep operating beyond his generation.
“The fact is that if (I) don’t do anything, the shop dies.”
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
President William Lai’s (賴清德) March 13 national security speech marked a turning point. He signaled that the government was finally getting serious about a whole-of-society approach to defending the nation. The presidential office summarized his speech succinctly: “President Lai introduced 17 major strategies to respond to five major national security and united front threats Taiwan now faces: China’s threat to national sovereignty, its threats from infiltration and espionage activities targeting Taiwan’s military, its threats aimed at obscuring the national identity of the people of Taiwan, its threats from united front infiltration into Taiwanese society through cross-strait exchanges, and its threats from
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
RSS