The chair has a simple shape characterized by a back and armrest designed with a continuous curve and a rectangular seat. The chair, with mellow wood hues, represents a signifier of status when placed in a dining room: It was commonly used as a seat of honor, especially for refined scholars and prosperous merchants.

This style of chair is referred to as quan yi, or “round chair,” and is one of the most classic furniture designs of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). It involves the precise joining of five pieces of timber. The curvature of each piece is carefully determined by carving, not steaming, prior to assembly.

Shanghai craftsman Wu Genhua, who lives in Jinqiao of the Pudong New Area, made this chair in rosewood in a version 10 times smaller than real furniture. It can be held in hand and is designed so that each section of the chair can be taken apart to appreciate the details.

Wu, 66, has been dedicated to making miniature furniture of the Ming and Qing (1644-1911) dynasties since he was 20 years old, and the craft has been added to the list of Pudong’s intangible cultural heritage.

He says he always made models because he didn’t have the money to buy expensive wood like rosewood required for authentic reproductions — nor did he have the space for such work.

“For me, Ming and Qing furniture is simply the best, especially Ming Dynasty design. It symbolizes the finest fusion of material, function and design and each piece is tailor-made according to the figure of the owner,” Wu tells Shanghai Daily.

Ming furniture features clean and elegant lines with little engraving and often with lattice designs. According to Wu, the structure of the furniture was influenced by ancient Chinese architecture, making it more solid and stable.

During the Qing Dynasty, the furniture featured more elaborate carving or had inlay and carved lacquer designs.

Influenced by his father and grandfather, both skilled carpenters, Wu enjoyed crafts when he was a child. During the “cultural revolution” (1966-76), Wu’s father was assigned to work in a textile mill and hardly anyone paid attention to Ming and Qing Dynasty furniture.

“My father taught me in secret the skills needed in making Ming and Qing furniture, fearing that the skills might vanish,” Wu recalls.

Though never employed as a carpenter, modeling ancient Chinese furniture has been his enduring passion.

In 1968, Wu became a worker at a steel sheet plant in Shanghai. Since the factory had an extremely high temperature, for every 40 minutes, the workers got to rest for two hours.

Among the 25 members in his team, Wu became known as a weirdo. “During the break, all my colleagues chatted, played cards and smoked, but I always took out a carving knife and a bamboo stick to practice engraving and carving,” Wu says.

From 1968 to 1997, Wu rolled 310,000 tons of steel and carved hundreds of bamboo sticks.

But to make Ming and Qing furniture or models of it, crafting skills weren’t enough.

A magazine called Shanghai Deco that was published monthly in the 1980s and 1990s had one page in each issue featuring Ming and Qing furniture. “This was among the very few sources that I had at the time to delve into this art,” Wu says.

He frequently visited the libraries, old book markets and bookshops looking for information.

The markets were among the most promising places, he says.

On his days off, Wu usually got up at 4am and rode his bicycle to different stalls selling secondhand books. He was always the first customer, arriving at 5am, and spent a whole day, until 3pm, in search of books or pictures of Ming and Qing furniture. Too poor to afford the books and a hearty lunch, he usually had just a bowl of plain noodles.

“I have read all the books in the market about Ming and Qing furniture,” Wu says.

“I may not be a talented craftsman but I am definitely determined,” he adds, sitting among myriad of books, carving tools and miniature sculptures he made, all neatly arranged.

Exactness always has been a top priority for Wu, from picking the right rosewood to making the pieces to displaying the furniture in the proper arrangements. He stringently follows ancient ways.

“First of all, I pick only rosewood more than 200 years old from antique shops to ensure the right material. Sometimes I cut the rosewood from discarded old furniture,” Wu explains.

Making a piece of miniature furniture takes three to four weeks. Each part is put together using an exposed mortise and tenon joint that won’t fit if there is even a slight error.

Also, due to the size of the model, Wu has to make most of the tools he uses, from saws to a tiny pair of tweezers.

Instead of varnishing the furniture, Wu manually polishes it over and over during and after making the model to give the rosewood a natural glow.

He says he neither sells his work or has it on permanent display, though sometimes he shows it at exhibits in Pudong.

“When you dearly love something,” Wu says, “you don’t get tired or feel bored doing it.”

Aside from making miniature furniture models, Wu likes root and bamboo carving and Chinese calligraphy, and is always thinking of how to turn ordinary things into something beautiful and different.

He now teaches at Tongji University on making and history of Ming and Qing furniture. Even though he doesn’t have a college diploma, Wu has 40 years of knowledge from teaching himself and enough experience to share.

“I find many young people now don’t appreciate ancient Chinese furniture, but instead look to European-style pieces with rich carvings like Rococo designs that are the most sophisticated and require the greatest skills. And I feel sad,” Wu says, adding that there is not enough information in circulation about the art of ancient Chinese furniture design.

“So I keep doing this. I don’t have the money to make big pieces, not to mention establishing an exhibition hall to show the beauty of Ming and Qing furniture. Making miniature models is the least I can do, and I hope more people will notice this glorious art,” he says.

Artisan plays small part in preserving heritage

Qu Zhi

The chair has a simple shape characterized by a back and armrest designed with a continuous curve and a rectangular seat. The chair, with mellow wood hues, represents a signifier of status when placed in a dining room: It was commonly used as a seat of honor, especially for refined scholars and prosperous merchants.

This style of chair is referred to as quan yi, or “round chair,” and is one of the most classic furniture designs of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). It involves the precise joining of five pieces of timber. The curvature of each piece is carefully determined by carving, not steaming, prior to assembly.

Shanghai craftsman Wu Genhua, who lives in Jinqiao of the Pudong New Area, made this chair in rosewood in a version 10 times smaller than real furniture. It can be held in hand and is designed so that each section of the chair can be taken apart to appreciate the details.

Wu, 66, has been dedicated to making miniature furniture of the Ming and Qing (1644-1911) dynasties since he was 20 years old, and the craft has been added to the list of Pudong’s intangible cultural heritage.

He says he always made models because he didn’t have the money to buy expensive wood like rosewood required for authentic reproductions — nor did he have the space for such work.

“For me, Ming and Qing furniture is simply the best, especially Ming Dynasty design. It symbolizes the finest fusion of material, function and design and each piece is tailor-made according to the figure of the owner,” Wu tells Shanghai Daily.

Ming furniture features clean and elegant lines with little engraving and often with lattice designs. According to Wu, the structure of the furniture was influenced by ancient Chinese architecture, making it more solid and stable.

During the Qing Dynasty, the furniture featured more elaborate carving or had inlay and carved lacquer designs.

Influenced by his father and grandfather, both skilled carpenters, Wu enjoyed crafts when he was a child. During the “cultural revolution” (1966-76), Wu’s father was assigned to work in a textile mill and hardly anyone paid attention to Ming and Qing Dynasty furniture.

“My father taught me in secret the skills needed in making Ming and Qing furniture, fearing that the skills might vanish,” Wu recalls.

Though never employed as a carpenter, modeling ancient Chinese furniture has been his enduring passion.

In 1968, Wu became a worker at a steel sheet plant in Shanghai. Since the factory had an extremely high temperature, for every 40 minutes, the workers got to rest for two hours.

Among the 25 members in his team, Wu became known as a weirdo. “During the break, all my colleagues chatted, played cards and smoked, but I always took out a carving knife and a bamboo stick to practice engraving and carving,” Wu says.

From 1968 to 1997, Wu rolled 310,000 tons of steel and carved hundreds of bamboo sticks.

But to make Ming and Qing furniture or models of it, crafting skills weren’t enough.

A magazine called Shanghai Deco that was published monthly in the 1980s and 1990s had one page in each issue featuring Ming and Qing furniture. “This was among the very few sources that I had at the time to delve into this art,” Wu says.

He frequently visited the libraries, old book markets and bookshops looking for information.

The markets were among the most promising places, he says.

On his days off, Wu usually got up at 4am and rode his bicycle to different stalls selling secondhand books. He was always the first customer, arriving at 5am, and spent a whole day, until 3pm, in search of books or pictures of Ming and Qing furniture. Too poor to afford the books and a hearty lunch, he usually had just a bowl of plain noodles.

“I have read all the books in the market about Ming and Qing furniture,” Wu says.

“I may not be a talented craftsman but I am definitely determined,” he adds, sitting among myriad of books, carving tools and miniature sculptures he made, all neatly arranged.

Exactness always has been a top priority for Wu, from picking the right rosewood to making the pieces to displaying the furniture in the proper arrangements. He stringently follows ancient ways.

“First of all, I pick only rosewood more than 200 years old from antique shops to ensure the right material. Sometimes I cut the rosewood from discarded old furniture,” Wu explains.

Making a piece of miniature furniture takes three to four weeks. Each part is put together using an exposed mortise and tenon joint that won’t fit if there is even a slight error.

Also, due to the size of the model, Wu has to make most of the tools he uses, from saws to a tiny pair of tweezers.

Instead of varnishing the furniture, Wu manually polishes it over and over during and after making the model to give the rosewood a natural glow.

He says he neither sells his work or has it on permanent display, though sometimes he shows it at exhibits in Pudong.

“When you dearly love something,” Wu says, “you don’t get tired or feel bored doing it.”

Aside from making miniature furniture models, Wu likes root and bamboo carving and Chinese calligraphy, and is always thinking of how to turn ordinary things into something beautiful and different.

He now teaches at Tongji University on making and history of Ming and Qing furniture. Even though he doesn’t have a college diploma, Wu has 40 years of knowledge from teaching himself and enough experience to share.

“I find many young people now don’t appreciate ancient Chinese furniture, but instead look to European-style pieces with rich carvings like Rococo designs that are the most sophisticated and require the greatest skills. And I feel sad,” Wu says, adding that there is not enough information in circulation about the art of ancient Chinese furniture design.

“So I keep doing this. I don’t have the money to make big pieces, not to mention establishing an exhibition hall to show the beauty of Ming and Qing furniture. Making miniature models is the least I can do, and I hope more people will notice this glorious art,” he says.