BISU

Four ordinary ingredients from traditional Chinese medicine—Xinyi (magnolia flower bud), Chantui (cicada slough), Baiji (bletilla striata), and Baiji (bletilla striata)—could be transformed by a pair of skilled hands into “living creatures” that carry stories of millennia and embody the wisdom of the East. As a member of the Beijing Folk Artists Association and president of Tongzhou District Folk Artists Association, Mr. Zhang Zheng, an inheritor of the Maohou (hairy monkey, a kind of traditional Beijing folk figurine made from medicinal herbs), has been fascinated by folk art since childhood, with a particular fondness for Maohou figurines. Under the guidance of renowned folk artist Cao Yijian, known as “Maohou Cao”, and after decades of exploration and practice, he finally mastered the delicate skill of transforming medicinal materials into expressive works of art.

By the serene banks of the Tongzhou Grand Canal, the gently sound of flowing water accompanies the warm, herbal scent wafting from a nearby studio. There, with a flick and a press of his fingers, Mr. Zhang brings a vivid Maohou figurine to life. Inspired by ancient and modern culture, folk customs and everyday life, his works blend rustic simplicity with elegance, exuding wit and liveliness. Many of his masterpieces have been collected by friends both in China and abroad. This century-old craft, born in pharmacies of old Beijing, lacks ornate embellishment. Yet, through honed by over forty years of dedication and innovation, it has transcended the constraints of time to become a cultural bridge connecting tradition with  modernity, and the East with the West.

This connection is embodied in every movement of his fingertips. Pinching a cicada slough as thin as a cicada’s wing, Mr. Zhang trims it gently and adjusts its angle with tweezers. In the blink of an eye, it is transformed into the nimble limbs of a “little monkey”. Attached to a magnolia bud serving as the monkey’s body and secured with a dab of glue made from bletilla striata—and a vivid Maohou figurine begins to take shape. Over forty years, Mr. Zhang has worked with patience and precision, shaping herbal materials into vivid expressions of a living tradition; he has allowed this century-old skill, born in Beijing’s pharmacies, to thrive under the nourishing influence of canal culture, breaking free from the constraints of time and bloomed with unique vitality.

The origin of Maohou hides a clever folk tale rooted in the bustling atmosphere of everyday life. During the Daoguang reign of the Qing Dynasty, a pharmacy clerk, frustrated by his boss’s harsh treatment, randomly picked four medicinal materials from the counter--magnolia buds, cicada sloughs, bletilla striata, and akebia quinata--and assembled them into a figurine depicting of “the boss scolding the clerk” to vent his anger. Unexpectedly, this seemingly casual creation, with its humorous form and vivid symbolism, drew praise from onlookers. Thus, the art of “using monkeys to portray humans” quietly spread among people. 

“These four medicinal ingredients are the soul of Maohou; none can be omitted,” Mr. Zhang explains to the visiting international student Eliz, pointing to the neatly arranged materials. His fingers gently brush the fuzzy magnolia buds. “Its fluffy texture of magnolia buds provides the lively foundation for the monkey’s body. Cicada sloughs, with their pointed head and distinct limbs, are perfectly outlines the expressions of different postures and emotion. The glue made from bletilla striata is natural and pure, bonding firmly without altering the original quality of the materials. Akebia quinata, cut into thin strips, can be crafted into small props like tables, chairs, or musical instruments, adding the finishing touch to the work.” 

Ancestors long ago connected Maohou closely with the Grand Canal. During the prosperous era of water transport, craftsmen often depicted scenes of canal workers laboring, merchants trading, and boats coming and going in their works, making Maohou a cultural medium that recorded the rise and fall of the Grand Canal.

The true appeal of Maohou lies in its subtle yet profound Eastern humor and philosophy. Unlike the straightforward sharpness of Western satire or the exaggerated expression of puppetry, Maohou require no complex coloring. Relaying solely on  the natural forms and textures of Chinese medicinal materials, they captures the essence of stories and the personalities of characters within a compact space. 

Since Master Cao Yijian elevated Maohou to 3D cartoon, the art has gained even greater intellectual weight. For his work “Beacon Fires for the Beauty”, (which means abusing the beacon fire warning system for personal amusement), Mr. Zheng intentionally used thick, bulky magnolia buds to shape the arrogant physique of King You of Zhou. He trimmed the cicada slough into a tilted crown, hinting at the disorder of royal authority. Meanwhile, the “little monkeys” holding beacon tower models were made from slender cicada sloughs, with tense limbs and panicked expressions. Through this stark contrast in forms, the lesson of a kingdom led astray by indulgence is quietly conveyed. “Maohou delivers positive messages through reverse imagery without deliberate preaching or sharp criticism, just gentle warnings in humorous forms. This is the wisdom of Maohou and reflects the innate clarity in the Chinese approach to life,” Mr. Zhang remarks, pointing to his work,his tone filled with deep reverence for this craft.

Mr. Zhang’s four-decade journey as a cultural inheritor has been far from smooth. In the 1990s, as entertainment options diversified, this ancient craft of Maohou gradually faded from the public memory. Mr. Zhang’s works would sit at market stalls all day without a single sale. Even the few apprentices who had been learning from him left one after another, discouraged by uncertain prospects and the loneliness of the work. During that period, seeing his studio filled with Maohou works and idle tools, he felt a mix of sorrow and anxiety. He even packed away his tweezers, bamboo baskets and other tools in a wooden box, leaving them untouched for over half a year. Yet, in the stillness of the night, the teachings passed down by his ancestors, the memories of old Beijing and the Grand Canal stories embedded within Maohou works, and the eager eyes of those who occasionally sought out his old pieces through various channels, all made it impossible for him to let go. Ultimately, his devotion to cultural roots compelled him to open the wooden box again, pick up his tools, and resolve to safeguard this nearly lost craft.

Today, Maohou is experiencing a quiet reviving through Mr. Zhang’s perseverance and innovation. When interacting with young people like international student Eliz, he clearly perceives the different interests across age groups: the older generation cherishes the nostalgia in the works, finding echoes of the past in the familiar scenes; young people, however, are more amazed by the creativity and resonance, exclaiming, “I never knew traditional crafts could be so trendy!” They eagerly take photos to share and even express a desire to try creating their own pieces.  

Mr. Zhang guides Eliz to make Maohou hand in hand, patiently explaining details like “glue the head first, then the legs, and let the glue dry for several hours. Watching Eliz finish her own simple Maohou, he says with satisfaction, “If young people are willing to learn and share, this craft has a chance to survive.” 

To better integrate Maohou into modern life, Mr. Zhang has taken the initiative to break from tradition by creating cultural products such as bookmarks, keychains, and so on. He also sets up hands-on workshops on campus, using Maohou to explain historical stories and traditional medicinal knowledge, turning the ancient craft from  “display pieces” into “everyday treasures” that can be touched, experienced, and incorporated into daily life.

For foreign young people who wish to learn Maoho, Mr. Zhang frankly states that the greatest challenge lies not in the complexity of the techniques, but in the understanding of cultural background and emotional resonance. “The skills of gluing and shaping can be mastered with practice, yet without knowledge of old Beijing’s urban life or an understanding of Chinese historical allusions, the Maohou work will only have a ‘form’ without ‘soul’, lacking that unique charm,” he offers simple yet sincere advice for beginners. “Take a stroll through Beijing’s hutongs, walk along the Grand Canal, listen to the stories of the elders, and learn about the characteristics and cultural symbolism of medicinal materials such as magnolia flower buds and cicada sloughs. Firstly fall in love with the culture and feelings behind this craft, then one can truly make Maohou figurines that are vivid and alive.

Mr. Zhang’s wish is pure and steadfast: to make Maohou a living footnote to the Grand Canal culture, allowing these tiny herbal creatures, carrying the warm scent of medicine and profound cultural heritage, to accompany the gentle flow of the canal, transcend borders and time, and pass down through generations, telling the world about the perseverance and renewal of Chinese folk art.