The National Museum of History has recently mounted several notable exhibitions on China’s history. The Smiling Kingdom: The Terra-Cotta Warriors of Han Yang Ling (微笑彩俑—漢景帝的地下王國), for example, provided an in-depth look at societal changes through funerary objects excavated from the mausoleum of an early Han Dynasty emperor.
But there have been misses, too. A Drop in the Ocean: Modern Contemporary Chinese Calligraphy and Painting Exhibition (滄海一粟—近現代書畫展) threw up hundreds of calligraphic scrolls and ink paintings without adequately explaining the exhibits’ context.
Legends of Heroes: The Heritage of the Three Kingdoms Era (英雄再起─大三國特展), a new exhibition on the museum’s first floor, is of the latter category.
“By presenting the era from different angles and on different levels, and by adopting wide-ranging approaches, it should be possible to present a comprehensive picture of military affairs, technology, economy, daily life, art [and] religion ... in the Three Kingdom era, as well as the influence that the history of the Three Kingdoms has exerted on later generations,” the show catalog says.
What we get, however, is a romantic glimpse of the period that lacks historical rigor. Aside from focusing on the era’s heroes, the exhibition only superficially links the age’s rulers and the societies they dominated.
The museum borrowed 146 artifacts from 32 museums in China, including sculptures, seals, calligraphy, ceramics and gold and silver jewelry excavated from 70 historical sites dating back to the kingdoms of Wei (魏), Shu (蜀) and Wu (吳).
Legends of Heroes focuses on three broadly chronological themes: official histories of the era; the period as depicted in the Ming Dynasty novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms (三國演義); and later representations of the era’s heroes, whether found in the hand scrolls and wood carvings of the Ming Dynasty or contemporary animation and computer games.
The museum uses the Qing Dynasty Albums of Emperors and Famous Officials to present the stories of the Three Kingdom’s movers and shakers, including the tyrannical though highly organized Wu kingdom founder Cao Cao (曹操) and brave Shu general Guan Yu (關羽).
But the connection between the historical figures and the objects on display is never made explicit, with visitors left to fill in the blanks. The exception is the section on Zhuge Liang (諸葛亮, also known as Kong Ming (孔明), which illustrates the relationship between his curious
personality and the inventions that appeared during his reign.
What a shooting and hunting scene or a celadon pot in the shape of a frog has to do with Zhao Yun’s (趙雲) bravery or Zhang Fei’s (張飛) courage is anybody’s guess.
One of the highlights is the Romance of the Three Kingdoms section that includes scrolls depicting the Battle of the Red Cliff, which provide valuable insights into how different artists from various points in time viewed that period.
The contemporary display items, however, are barely worthy of a museum. One room houses four monitors that show computer games based on the Three Kingdoms, while another room houses an interactive display of cartoon characters of Kong Ming and Guan Yu.
“How cute!” exclaimed a young viewer.
The flashy and forgettable use of technology is made even more disappointing because interactive media have been used to great effect in Huaxia Artifacts (館藏華夏文物展), an ongoing exhibition of ancient Chinese artifacts on the museum’s third floor.
Too many of the objects on display are only tangentially related to the overall theme of heroism and its subsequent depictions in art and popular culture. Limiting the objects to the exhibition’s theme would have created a more coherent and less frustrating experience.
The unexpected collapse of the recall campaigns is being viewed through many lenses, most of them skewed and self-absorbed. The international media unsurprisingly focuses on what they perceive as the message that Taiwanese voters were sending in the failure of the mass recall, especially to China, the US and to friendly Western nations. This made some sense prior to early last month. One of the main arguments used by recall campaigners for recalling Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) lawmakers was that they were too pro-China, and by extension not to be trusted with defending the nation. Also by extension, that argument could be
Aug. 4 to Aug. 10 When Coca-Cola finally pushed its way into Taiwan’s market in 1968, it allegedly vowed to wipe out its major domestic rival Hey Song within five years. But Hey Song, which began as a manual operation in a family cow shed in 1925, had proven its resilience, surviving numerous setbacks — including the loss of autonomy and nearly all its assets due to the Japanese colonial government’s wartime economic policy. By the 1960s, Hey Song had risen to the top of Taiwan’s beverage industry. This success was driven not only by president Chang Wen-chi’s
Last week, on the heels of the recall election that turned out so badly for Taiwan, came the news that US President Donald Trump had blocked the transit of President William Lai (賴清德) through the US on his way to Latin America. A few days later the international media reported that in June a scheduled visit by Minister of National Defense Wellington Koo (顧立雄) for high level meetings was canceled by the US after China’s President Xi Jinping (習近平) asked Trump to curb US engagement with Taiwan during a June phone call. The cancellation of Lai’s transit was a gaudy
The centuries-old fiery Chinese spirit baijiu (白酒), long associated with business dinners, is being reshaped to appeal to younger generations as its makers adapt to changing times. Mostly distilled from sorghum, the clear but pungent liquor contains as much as 60 percent alcohol. It’s the usual choice for toasts of gan bei (乾杯), the Chinese expression for bottoms up, and raucous drinking games. “If you like to drink spirits and you’ve never had baijiu, it’s kind of like eating noodles but you’ve never had spaghetti,” said Jim Boyce, a Canadian writer and wine expert who founded World Baijiu Day a decade