"It's too abstract." Li Shuchuang picked up a crooked little figure and laughed at himself. That was made before he had even heard the term "dough figurine," just messing around with ultra-light clay. As a child, he often played with the yellow mud from the banks of the Yellow River. Later, he used his allowance to buy modeling clay. And then he entered the world of intangible cultural heritage of the dough figurine.
Li Shuchuang, from Huangqiao Township, Xihua County, Zhoukou City, Henan Province, is a young man from the post-2000s generation. He is now an inheritor of the intangible cultural heritage of the dough figurine.
He formally began learning dough figurines in university. He wanted to learn in his freshman year, but his family didn't agree. He insisted and finally went in his sophomore year. In an interview, his mother said that when he was little, he lived alone in his hometown with his grandparents. Later, when he used his allowance to buy modeling clay, she had said, "You're supposed to be studying. Can you afford to waste time on this?" Li Shuchuang replied, "It's okay, Mom." And she agreed, "Well, if you really like it, then go ahead and do it." Her voice was very soft, as if telling a story from a long time ago. But you could hear it in every word – she has always remembered.
Now, Li Shuchuang's life is very quiet. He wakes up in the morning, sits down at his table, and starts sculpting dough figures. He sits there the whole day, often not resting until around 1 am. He keeps a little rabbit. When he is sculpting, the rabbit just lies quietly beside him, not moving, not making a sound.
"Are you lonely?" the reporter asked.
He thought for a moment, "Not lonely. Because there's so much going on in my mind." When he sculpts a character holding a knife, for example, he imagines himself holding the knife, imagines what that character was feeling at that moment – how to lift the knife, how much force to use, how much energy to put into it. His eyes lit up as he spoke.
His works include all kinds of figures. Guan Yu, he says, was actually very handsome – the ancients called him "Lord of the Beautiful Beard." The Thunder God – there are 36 Thunder Gods in Chinese mythology, and he sculpted one. Hua Mulan in the guise of a Henan Yu Opera character. Zhong Kui, wearing a date red top, white pants, and black boots, holding a peachwood sword. He also made Nezha, and the evil dragon step on the Dragon King's palace. That dragon is very finely detailed, inlaid with gems, scale by scale.
Through every piece runs an iron wire from head to toe. That wire supports the entire dough figure, allowing it to stand and not topple over. This, he says, is like a human skeleton.
He doesn't just learn tradition. He has collaborated with trendy companies and participated in offline exhibitions. He knows people his age who make fish lanterns in Shangqiu and friends who do sugar painting in Zhengzhou. They often meet and chat, exploring possibilities for cross-border collaborations. He feels that the saying "good wine needs no bush" no longer holds. "Traditional crafts need to be seen by more people if they are to be loved," he says. Social media, he believes, is essential for artisans like him.
But he has never abandoned his traditional roots. He has an apprentice letter, and his master gave him a letter of acceptance in return. Traditionally, an apprentice could have only one master, but he thinks it's fine to learn from different teachers now. After graduation, he plans to open his own studio and "establish his own school – the Li's Dough Figurine."
Many people come to him wanting to become his apprentice. The first question they often ask is, "Can I make money doing this?" "It takes a long time to see returns," Li Shuchuang says. "The time investment required is very high. Very few people can stay focused and committed for four or five years." Passing on intangible cultural heritage is a very difficult and lengthy process. "You have to be patient. You need a craftsman's heart. I think that's very important," he says.
He attended primary school in his village, middle school in his township, high school in the county seat, and it wasn't until university that he finally left the small county town. Back then, he didn't want to leave the province – he wanted to stay in his hometown. And now? "I still want to come back to my hometown," he says. He doesn't need much space for dough figurines – just a small table is enough. And at home, there is family, which makes him very happy. "Gold can shine anywhere. There's no need for everyone to go to big cities," he says.
On his desk, there are some unsightly dough figurines – crooked, with strange colors. Asked why he still keeps them, "Just as a memento," he says. "So I can look back and see where I came from." This is the path of a post-2000s rural youth, from playing with mud on the banks of the Yellow River's tributary all the way to becoming an intangible cultural heritage inheritor. "Don't let my age fool you," he says. But he has already come a long way.
(Reporters: Kiki, Sammi; Filming: Sammi, Anna; Video Editor: Sammi; Editor: Kiki; English Editor: Darius, Kiki; Producer: Tracy)
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