Chops and Seals --Versatile Chinese Genies on Paper

Chops let you "be in two places at once," for they can be used to sign documents when you cannot he present in person; they bring a breath of literary idealism into life, as when official seals hymn the delights of "admiring the crane while leaning against a pine tree;" they let lovers' vows be carved in granite, since a seal reading "in this life and the next" leaves its impression not only on paper but in the lover's breast....

The Monkey King, a fictional creation of Chinese mythology, could pluck out a tuft of his hair, blow on it, and it would change into 72 copies of himself, allowing him to be in many different places at once. And in real life the Chinese have invented their own way of being in two places at once, the seal or chop.

Chinese documents have been marked with chops since antiquity as a sign of authenticity, and even in the modern world with computers and credit cards changing the way we write and perform consumer transactions, the chop still has its old role of confirming a signature as creditworthy.

Chops are used as a sign of good faith by all government officials from the president on down; and in Taiwan, stamping your chop is a legal requirement for signing a contract, filing a lawsuit, and opening an account or withdrawing money at any bank or post office. Sometimes even though you attend in person, ID card in hand, you cannot complete a procedure unless you've brought along your chop. It may seem like putting the cart before the horse, but the tendency to believe a chop rather than the individual himself is an unmistakable "trademark of the Chinese."

Apart from representing personal assent, chops can also indicate ownership and literary cris de coeur. Stamping a chop on a book shows who it belongs to; a studio name seal stamped on an old calligraphic work may mean "this work has been in my collection" or "I authenticate this work as genuine." Again, the literati of former times saw calligraphy as the perfect vehicle for lofty feelings, but as a compromise between too overt a statement and painful silence, they encapsulated their sentiments in seal inscriptions which they stamped in a corner of their calligraphic scrolls.

So tiny seals may encapsulate cameos of deathless loyalty, the sighs of frustrated ambition, or the eternal plaint of some noble spirit.... Their versatility is perhaps unique.

Evidence shows that chops originated in the Shang period and were in widespread use under the Chou dynasty. There were official seals and private seals (bearing a personal name), and in the Ch'in dynasty strict regulations were issued as to the materials, size and text permitted for the former. In a monarchical age, official chops were the seal of authority, and issuing a chop to an official was tantamount to conferring power.

Before the invention of paper, chops were used to seal written bamboo strips to prevent them being opened during delivery. One example of such a seal text dating from the Han dynasty reads: "I affix this seal because urgent business prevents me from coming in person; please open the enclosed letter which I now fasten with this seal."

Han dynasty officials often carried seals with them to seal documents while on official business. These were usually diecast in metal, but in an emergency they could be carved directly into other material, making what became known as an "emergency seal."

Once paper became more widespread in the Sui and T'ang periods, seals were affixed directly on to documents in the way familiar to us today.

According to distinguished seal-carver Wang Pei-yueh, who also teaches at National Taiwan Normal University, T'ang dynasty literary enthusiasms soon led to seals developing aspects beyond the merely practical, giving rise to so-called "pastime" seals. Seals recording reign dates and studio names are a sort of halfway house between individual name chops and pastime seals.

The earliest reign-date chops yet discovered are two chops carved with the characters for the Chen-kuan and K'ai-yuan periods in the calligraphy of the T'ang emperors T'ai-tsung and Hsuan-tsung. Studio chops are said to originate with Li Mi of the T'ang dynasty. And it was in the T'ang period that the vogue started for literary men to stamp calligraphy and paintings with chops.

Early chops were carved by craftsmen and tend to have a workaday air, and they were generally made from jade, gold, bronze or iron. Wang Mien's use of soft Hua-ju stone for carving his own seals in the late Yuan period marked a breakthrough in the use of materials and paved the way for the literati to carve seals themselves. While hard materials such as agate and amber are difficult to carve aesthetically, soft stones such as Ch'ing-t'ien stone, Ch'ang-hua stone and Shou-shan stone are liked by seal carvers because they offer scope for calligraphic knife-work.

But credit for bringing seal carving into the realm of art should really go to Wen P'eng, son of the Ming artist Wen Cheng-ming. Prior to the Ming dynasty, according to Wang Pei-yueh, seals were just an adjunct to calligraphy and painting, but Wen P'eng's creative seal carving made them into works to be appreciated in their own right.

Wen P'eng opened up new avenues of seal calligraphy. "Hitherto, apart from the calligraphic importance of Ch'in and Han dynasty seals, most seals served a purely practical function. Yuan seals, for example, were carved in spidery characters totally lacking in calligraphic beauty, let along artistic value. Wen P'eng emphasized the Han calligraphic tradition, and not content with carving personal or studio names he often carved verses on to seals, thus broadening their scope." Wang Pei-yueh points out that al though pastime seals existed before Wen P'eng's time, he invested far more in them and even acknowledged each chop as his own work by inscribing his name on the side.

Interest in bronze and stone inscriptions among Ch'ing dynasty scholars encouraged the development of seal carving and many different schools arose. Catalogues of seal carvings also enriched the genre as an art form.

The Chinese love affair with chops and seals has serious historical roots as well as being a romantic attachment on the part of the cultured elite. They can provide insights into the practices of various dynasties, while also enabling us to appreciate the Chinese outlook on life and art.

The historical development of seals reflects the practices and social atmosphere of different dynasties. For example, under the Chou dynasty there were no firm regulations governing seals, which could be of any size and type, whether official or private. Under the Ch'in dynasty, when axle lengths and the writing system were standardized, seals were subject to specific regulations stipulating the use of fine small seal script calligraphy. In the Han period small seal script was written in fuller, more homely, tidier calligraphy, and with the wider use of paper in the T'ang dynasty, chops became more commonly used in the manner of a signature.

Whereas people today wear brand-name clothes and accessories to indicate wealth and status, the ancients sized a person up by one glance at his seal. Early seals were not just used to fasten documents but could be worn by their owners as ornamental pendants. For officials especially, seals were a sign of status and a symbol of prestige. Su Ch'in, for example, having been balked in his early career, went on to become chief minister of six states and returned to his home district in triumph, proudly wearing all six seals of office.

The ancient Chinese exploited the symbolic significance of seals in creating ones which featured auspicious phrases, animals of the zodiac and collector's marks of authentication. Some late Ch'in seals are inscribed with auspicious phrases such as "eternal good luck" and "may your days number in the thousands and tens of thousands." Zodiac seals show animals of the owner's birth-year, or include the zodiac animals for an entire family in a single auspicious symbol of family togetherness. Clearly such seals provided spiritual solace for the owner.

Collector's seals affixed to works in the imperial collections usually indicate the reign date, while private collector's seals may show the individual's personal name or the name of his studio, or contain some cautionary phrase such as "to be treasured eternally by sons and grandsons" or "not to be lent out to others." Collectors of fine printed editions and calligraphy who either did not dare spoil the original and yet could not forbear proving their appreciation of a masterpiece would rely on seals to show their ownership or put their connoisseurship on record.

Of course, this has its good and bad aspects. It has the advantage of allowing others to judge of a work's date and authenticity on the basis of the collector's seals, as in the case of calligraphic works by Huai Su of the T'ang dynasty and Wang Hsien-chih of the Chin dynasty which bear the seal of Li Yu, ruler of the Kingdom of Southern T'ang and a noted connoisseur.

Still, due regard must be paid to balance and effect when stamping a work of art with a seal. If a collector resorts to stamping his seal in any old blank space when there is clearly no room for it on the work, the result can be disastrous. Sometimes even the most cultured collectors can let themselves down through selfishness of this kind.

Pastime seals opened up a new avenue for the artistic life of the literati by giving them a stylish outlet for expressions of refinement, lofty sentiments and pent-up emotions of all kinds. In China, where self-cultivation has long been viewed as highly important, it can help reinforce your resolve if you cast your self-expectations into concrete form as a seal inscription. People might exhort themselves to higher standards by carving a seal with the motto "observe correct conduct without obsequiousness," or urge themselves to do good works and seek after knowledge with a seal reading "cultivate good fortune and wisdom together." And Ch'ing dynasty scholar Yu Ch'u-yuan showed his selfless tolerance with a seal inscribed "learn how to lose out."

Scholars who enjoy recording the pleasures of outdoor excursions in the form of poetry and paintings can use seals for the same purpose. Mt. Huang is a favorite sacred site of the literati, and one often sees seals praising someone's achievement in reaching its summit three times or five times, although painter Liu Hai-su's seal boasts: "Nine times atop Mt. Huang must cap all."

Chinese literary figures also enshrine their lofty ideals in a seal. When eminent turn-of-century seal carver Wu Ch'ang-shih made a seal reading: "One month as prefect of Antung," he was showing that although capable of being appointed to an official post, he cared nothing for the social round involved and quit the job after one month to return to decent obscurity.

In Six Chapters of a Floating Life, Ch'ing dynasty writer Shen Fu tells of his lifelong love for his wife Yun-niang. He also carved two seals with the inscriptions "in this life and the next" and "eternally husband and wife," which they kept for use on their regular correspondence. Plighting their troth in stone lent another dimension to their romantic fondness for one another.

Seals can be enjoyed in their own right, but when affixed to calligraphy or a painting they can provide that final touch which balances the work perfectly and so contributes to the overall effect. Of course the size of the seal, its position and its inscription always need to be complementary to the work in question.

Literary folk have real reasons for wanting to place seals on calligraphy and paintings. According to distinguished contemporary calligraphist and seal carver Li Yu, a vermilion seal creates a beautiful color contrast when set beside black ink calligraphy. And positioned just right, a seal can make up for shortcomings in the work itself.

Placing a seal is an art in itself. In the case of calligraphic works, the seals are usually stamped either on the blank space at the beginning of the handscroll or after the colophon at the end. If the seal is placed too close to the colophon the scroll will lack "breathing space," and if too far away it will just look like some disembodied afterthought.

Similar considerations apply to paintings. Seals should never be placed above a mountain peak or amid the waters of a stream, "because mountain-tops must rise unimpeded into the sky and clouds and water must flow without obstruction," Li Yu explains.

Another very important point is whether the seal inscription accords with the calligraphy or painting. Wang Pei-yueh cites the incongruity of a seal inscription in praise of landscape applied to a painting of flowers, birds and butterflies; conversely, a seal in praise of flowers would only diminish the effect if applied to some impressionistic study of a grand mountain landscape.

But if applied tastefully, a seal can add something to a painting that could not otherwise be expressed. Speaking of Chang Ta-chien's once affixing a seal reading "young love's distress" to a portrait of a beautiful woman, Wang Pei-yueh exclaims: "Now that seal was just right! How could anyone actually paint young love's distress?! And where else could such a seal inscription fit better?"

At the same time a seal of trust, a vehicle for sentiment, and a means of expression, these genies on paper that are seals may serve to express Chinese people's values, their feelings towards the world, even their undying devotion.

On the occasion of Yu Yu-jen's eightieth birthday, Li Yu personally carved him a name chop to mark the anniversary. To his surprise, Mr. Yu adamantly refused to accept it and insisted on sticking to his original wornout little chop. This had once been given to him by Wu Ch'ang-shih, and no matter how battered it became he was determined never to change to another so long as he lived. Perhaps there could hardly be a better example of keeping good faith.

[Picture Caption]

Famous Chinese paintings boast an array of collectors' seals testifyingto their authenticity, and the number of seals can be one indication ofa painting's value. (photo courtesy of the National Palace Museum)

Ancient seals often took the form of animals of the zodiac as a sign of good fortune. (photo courtesy of the National Palace Museum)

Chinese newly-weds customarily stamp the marriage certificate with seals as a pledge of faith, love and mutual consent. (photo by Chang Miin-yi)

Chops retain an important place in modern Chinese society, for example, registered mail receipts must be stamped with the recipient's chop as proof of correct delivery. (photo to by Pu Hua-chih)

As a "trademark of the Chinese," seals are naturally cherished by many Sindogy insitutes. Shown here are seals in the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden.

Books in private collections are stamped with a personal chop as a mark of ownership. (photo by Arthur Cheng)

Ancient seals often took the form of animals of the zodiac as a sign of good fortune. （photo courtesy of the National Palace Museum）

Chinese newly-weds customarily stamp the marriage certificate with seals as a pledge of faith, love and mutual consent. （photo by Chang Miin-yi）

Chops retain an important place in modern Chinese society, for example, registered mail receipts must be stamped with the recipient's chop as proof of correct delivery. （photo to by Pu Hua-chih）

As a "trademark of the Chinese," seals are naturally cherished by many Sindogy insitutes. Shown here are seals in the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden.

Books in private collections are stamped with a personal chop as a mark of ownership. （photo by Arthur Cheng）