Purple Clay, A Pot Of Tea And Thou, O China

Teapots of silver and porcelain are undoubtedly luxurious, but Chinese literati traditionally preferred theirs made of a particular type of purple clay, which they valued more than gold. Called Zisha (literally ''purple sand''), it is from Yixing, a small town on the west bank of Lake Tai about 120 miles west of Shanghai.
Yixing ware is the focus of ''Tea, Wine and Poetry: Qing Dynasty Literati and Their Drinking Vessels,'' a small but fascinating exhibition at the China Institute gallery, at 125 East 65th Street in Manhattan, through June 16.
''This very special clay has been known since the 10th century, but the production of Yixing teapots flourished with the popular fashion for tea drinking among the literati in the late Ming dynasty,'' said Willow Weilan Hai Chang, the director of the gallery. ''In Yixing you have to dig 10 meters down to find the clay, then sift and purify it and let it settle in a hole for a certain period before you can mix it with other ingredients. According to the classics no family would ever share its recipe with another.''
Ms. Hai Chang, a native of China with an advanced degree in archaeology, said the clay had distinctive qualities. ''Teapots made of purple sand keep tea fresh,'' she said. ''They make tea vibrate with taste.'' (Yixing ware is still being made.)
Edith Frankel of the E. & J. Frankel gallery in New York gives a more scientific explanation in a catalog for a 2005 show on Zisha ware. ''The composition of the clay allows for minimal shrinking during firing, and this makes for a tightly fitting lid, which reduces oxidation and holds the tea's flavor,'' she wrote. ''The porosity of Yixing clay also helps it to absorb the flavor of the tea brewed in the teapot.''
But the appeal of purple clay to the literati did not stop with the raw material. It's what artists did to it that they treasured. In this show Yixing vessels, from the 1500s through the early 1800s, are organized by the potter or by who inspired the potter, whether it be a scholar, poet, designer, calligrapher or seal engraver. (The Qing dynasty supplanted the Ming in 1644.)
These are thought to be the first Chinese pottery items that bear the names of their artists. They are signed with seals and decorated with poetic inscriptions and willow and plum tree branches, some of which have been incised by collaborating artists.
''What is most appealing about Qing drinking vessels is the complete integration of form with poetry, calligraphy, painting and seal engraving,'' said Shu Kong Soong, a Taiwan architect whose collection forms the core of the exhibition. ''The literary and artistic embellishments of these works arouse both the mind and the senses. No other object in the scholar's studio can match their artistic complexity and richness. You can't get more intense than this.''
The works come in purplish brown, red, terra cotta and russet, colors enhanced by the patina of long use. In addition to the seals and inscriptions, some are embellished with jade or coral finials, mahogany handles or pewter casings.
''The combination of refined workmanship and literati taste elevated a utilitarian pottery product into a cultural symbol,'' Ms. Hai Chang said. ''Yixing ware has remained the favorite choice of tea lovers and collectors until the present day.''
One section is devoted to Chen Hongshou (1768-1822), a prominent artist who was also a magistrate. A bit like the contemporary architect Michael Graves, he created teapots in a variety of shapes; one resembles a crescent moon, another a bamboo hat. He sketched the shapes for a master teapot craftsman named Yang Pengnian, who then made (and signed) them.
''Chen was also famous for seal carving, calligraphy and painting,'' Ms. Hai Chang said.
The show has a stone seal he engraved for a friend and album leaves he covered with loose brushstroke paintings of flowers. One bears the inscription: ''Not bound by rules but excelling over those that delineate without restraint.''
Others also experimented with novel forms. One early ocher-yellow teapot with the seal of Chen Mingyuan (active from the mid-17th to the early-18th century) is square and looks completely modern.
Many of the teapots are small enough to fit in the palm of the hand. (''They are meant to be intimately appreciated,'' Ms. Hai Chang said.) They hold very little tea, which was to be consumed like a fine liqueur.
''Only with a tiny sip can you really taste tea,'' said Ms. Hai Chang. ''In fact everything affects the taste of tea. First you want tea grown in high mountains with fog. Normally the best tea is harvested before April 5, when you can find buds with only one leaf attached. Then, when brewing the tea, you have more choices: What kind of water? Spring water from the mountains is best. How to heat it? Boil it over a fire fueled by dry branches? This at least is the dream.''
The show also has a few wine vessels, including an unsigned Ming cup in the shape of a curled lotus leaf. In the center is the figure of an old man, a scholar enjoying nature. The clay is covered with lacquer and gold finishes. The cup was designed for a wine-drinking game. When it's full, wine flows out of a hole in the base, which encourages the user to drink up quickly.
These vessels are shown with porcelain teacups so small they look as if they were made for a dollhouse; gold-painted fans with calligraphy and depictions of bamboo and orchids (''good plants to show gentlemanly character,'' Ms. Hai Chang said); a scholar's rock resembling an elephant's leg; a hanging scroll with a painting of a mountain studio (to show that scholars were particular about the environment in which they drank their tea); engraved ink slabs in leaf forms and a lacquer wrist rest with an inscription that tells you how to draw a plum tree: ''In painting prunus the brushstrokes should be slim but not fat, similar to a crane standing on an empty islet.''
Mr. Soong has been collecting antique Yixing wares, which are hard to find, since 1983.
''I was brought up in a family in which the political and cultural demise of traditional China was a constant theme,'' he said. ''The impetus to collect was ignited by the desire to retrace the steps of the past so as to understand the disintegration of the present. The world of purple sand fits into this larger theme, because it evolved into an art form in the late Ming and by the 19th century lost all artistic momentum. The beginning and the end are always on my mind.''