The Paper has learned that Mr. Geng Baochang, a renowned expert in ancient ceramics appraisal, researcher at the Palace Museum, and deputy director of the National Cultural Relics Appraisal Committee, passed away in Beijing at 6:50 a.m. on November 10, 2025, at the age of 103. Geng Baochang was hailed as a "national treasure" and "China's foremost expert in ancient ceramics appraisal" by the cultural heritage community, a leading figure in the field. Several experts in the cultural heritage community interviewed by The Paper stated that Mr. Geng Baochang's passing is a great loss to China's cultural heritage community, but his academic legacy, appraisal philosophy, and dedication will continue to illuminate the path for those who come after him.
Wang Xudong, director of the Palace Museum, said on social media on the evening of November 10: "Mr. Geng Baochang, who devoted his life to one cause, passed away peacefully at the age of 103, accompanying the Palace Museum, which he loved so much, through its centennial celebration. His noble character of being indifferent to fame and fortune, dedicating himself to scholarship, and mentoring younger generations is a true embodiment of the Palace Museum's spirit of 'sincerity, respect, and adherence to tradition, and the inheritance of craftsmanship'! May Mr. Geng rest in peace!"
Renowned ancient ceramics expert Chen Kelun, former deputy director of the Shanghai Museum, told ArtPulse on the evening of November 10th: "Professor Geng passed away at the age of 103, which is quite old, but it is still very sad! I knew Professor Geng very well; he was my teacher. His main contributions were in the field of ancient ceramics authentication, especially Ming and Qing dynasty porcelain. He didn't publish many books on ceramics, but he had extremely profound practical experience. A few years ago, I visited him in Beijing. At that time, he seemed to have just fallen and had some difficulty moving around, but his mind was still very clear. The old gentleman was very amiable and never put on airs. He didn't argue about anything and had a very open mind. Professor Geng's passing is a huge loss to China's cultural heritage community!"
Mr. Geng Baochang
"Professor Geng's 'Identification of Ming and Qing Ceramics' was essential reading for us during our studies, and it had a profound impact," Li Zhongmou, executive curator of the Shanghai Jiao Tong University Museum, told The Paper. "Professor Geng Baochang has always been a highly respected academic senior; he is a landmark figure in the study of ancient ceramics. The last time I saw him was two or three years ago at a nursing home. He was in good spirits then, and we talked a lot about ceramics. I also had many interactions with him when I worked at the Palace Museum, because he was over ninety years old and still working. His office wasn't large, and seeing him and chatting with him was very rewarding. He had a unique characteristic: even with ceramics he handled in his youth, he was very clear about the details. Two years ago, the Jiao Tong University Museum held a porcelain exhibition..." He even wrote a poem about the exhibition. Mr. Geng's character and conduct are a model for us all. He was always polite and kind to everyone, never condescending towards young people, but treating them all equally and with great care. He was unassuming, never concerned with personal gain, and possessed a boundless capacity for tolerance. Whenever he spoke, he spoke softly and eloquently, weaving his valuable knowledge and experience into seemingly casual conversation. His memory was astonishing; even we young people couldn't match this centenarian. He had an uncanny memory for every ceramic artifact he handled, and still knows them by heart. He was a natural connoisseur of cultural relics. Mr. Geng's masterful demeanor will forever be etched in our hearts.
Professor Liu Zhaohui of the Department of Cultural Relics and Museology at Fudan University said: "Mr. Geng Baochang is a highly respected cultural relic expert in the cultural relics and museum field. With his rich practical experience, he systematized and theorized the knowledge of ancient ceramics identification. In the 1980s and 1990s, he published the important work 'Identification of Ming and Qing Porcelain', which has become a classic work that must be read for the identification and research of ancient ceramics."
From Apprentice to Master: A Palace Museum Connection
Mr. Geng Baochang was born in Beijing in 1922, with ancestral roots in Xinji (Shulu), Hebei. In 1936, at the age of 14, he entered the "Dunhuazhai" workshop in Beijing as an apprentice, studying under the renowned porcelain expert, Mr. Sun Yingzhou.
During his ten-year apprenticeship, he honed his basic skills in identifying ancient porcelain and developed a deep affection for ancient Chinese ceramics.
In 1946, after completing his apprenticeship, Geng Baochang opened his own antique shop, "Zhenhua Zhai." Ten years later, in 1956, recommended by his mentor Sun Yingzhou, he joined the Palace Museum, beginning a nearly 70-year-long connection with the museum. At that time, Wu Zhongchao, the director of the Palace Museum, was recruiting cultural relics experts from all walks of life to strengthen the museum's research work. Geng Baochang joined the Palace Museum at that time, along with his mentor Sun Yingzhou.
Mr. Geng Baochang
Academic contributions and the four-character mantra of "shape, pattern, glaze, and mark".
In terms of academic research, Mr. Geng Baochang's "Identification of Ming and Qing Porcelain" is the first monograph on the study and identification of ancient ceramics in China, becoming a milestone work in the field of ancient ceramics research. His four-word key to porcelain identification, namely "shape, pattern, glaze, and mark," is regarded as the "four-word mantra" in the industry and has become an important standard for ceramic identification and appreciation in the art market.
According to Mr. Geng Baochang, the various shapes of Ming and Qing porcelain can accurately reflect the lifestyle, aesthetic standards, social conditions, and technological advancements of each dynasty. He emphasizes the importance of studying the style of each era in authentication, and conducting detailed analysis and comparison of different styles. Regarding decoration, he believes that porcelain decoration from different periods of the Ming and Qing dynasties has distinct characteristics of its time and different stylistic features. When dating and authenticating, it is necessary to observe and compare the patterns, artistic conceptions, and other features of other artifacts from the same period and similar dynasties.
Regarding the identification of body and glaze, he pointed out: "In terms of porcelain, the body is the bone, and the glaze is the clothing. Careful observation of the body and glaze is very important in dating and identification."
Initiation of the Insightful Treasure Identification and Underwater Archaeology
Mr. Geng Baochang enjoys a high reputation in the cultural heritage field for his exceptional insight. In an interview, he humorously said, "They call me a 'national treasure,' but that's just bragging! Bragging doesn't cost anything!"
Despite his advanced age, his eyesight remained excellent, and his keen eye has helped the nation authenticate tens of thousands of first-class cultural relics. Among his most celebrated achievements is the Chenghua jar he acquired at a Hong Kong auction in 1994 for 1.1 million RMB.
This Chenghua jar, which is 31 centimeters tall, is one of the few large artifacts that exist today. There are only four such pieces in the world, and the one in the Palace Museum is the only complete Chenghua jar with a lid. Its value has now risen to 20 million RMB.
Mr. Geng Baochang, along with Mr. Feng Xianming, was one of the initiators of underwater archaeology in China. They conducted detailed investigations of the Silk Road, making pioneering contributions to the development of Chinese archaeology. His selfless donations and the countless students he mentored are truly admirable.
In 1986, Mr. Geng Baochang donated his personal collection of porcelain, bronzes and other cultural relics to the Palace Museum, demonstrating his spirit of selfless dedication.
He held teaching positions at numerous universities and research institutions both domestically and internationally, including as a master's degree supervisor in the Department of Archaeology at Peking University and a doctoral supervisor in the Department of History at Chinese Culture University in Taipei, cultivating a large number of professionals for the field of cultural heritage. Since 1973, he has traveled extensively to France, Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom, Japan, and Hong Kong and Taiwan for research, authentication, and academic exchanges, making significant contributions to the international dissemination of ancient Chinese ceramic culture. His work embodies the character and sentiments of a traditional literati.
Of all Chinese porcelain, although Yuan blue and white porcelain and Ming doucai porcelain have become very popular in recent years, he said that he likes Song dynasty plain porcelain the most, especially the sky-blue Jun ware, which he considers "very elegant".
From his first visit to the Forbidden City in 1936 to his official employment there in 1956, and his passing in 2025, Mr. Geng Baochang's connection with the Forbidden City spanned nearly 90 years. He witnessed the Forbidden City's transformation from "extremely dilapidated, overgrown with weeds and garbage" to its current vibrant state, and he also witnessed the development of ancient Chinese ceramics research from its inception to its current prosperity.
When interviewed by The Paper, relevant figures in the cultural heritage field said that the passing of Mr. Geng Baochang was a great loss to China's cultural heritage community, but his academic legacy, appraisal philosophy, and dedication will continue to illuminate the path for those who come after him.
Just as he hoped, China will have more "ceramic academic experts with both moral integrity and intellectual ability" to inherit and develop the cause of ancient ceramics research.
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Further Reading | Geng Baochang's Personal Account: True Knowledge Comes from Practice
Ceramics are a treasure of Chinese culture, and studying their origins and connotations is extremely difficult, truly like facing a vast ocean or diving into the sea to encounter countless creatures. Ancient pottery cultural relics are scattered across wilderness and deep mountains, naturally obscured by the passage of time, changes in landscape, and geological shifts. Exploring them is as arduous and unpredictable as searching for treasure at the bottom of the ocean, with endless mysteries. Even narrowing the scope of ceramic research to just porcelain presents the same challenge. Porcelain from various dynasties and periods has a multitude of varieties, each with its own characteristics. Understanding and studying them requires considerable effort, and achieving complete understanding and mastery is no easy feat, thus forming a highly specialized discipline.
China's traditional culture is profound and extensive. To work in this field, one must read books; the more one reads, the more one will understand the deeper meaning. But even more important is to put it into practice, for only through practice can one gain true knowledge.
Rising early and sleeping late, water dripping wears away stone.
I was born on July 14, 1922, in Beijing. My family lived in Xixinsi Hutong near Ximen. At the age of three, I returned to my ancestral home with my parents—Mengjiazhuang, Xinji, Shulu County, Hebei Province. The villagers called me "Beijing Baby." My great-grandfather was named Geng Shusheng, and my grandfather was named Geng Jingshan. My father, Geng Buqiao, was adopted by my great-grandfather Geng Jingshan from my third uncle's branch of the family. My grandfather, Mr. Geng Jingshan, was a renowned figure in Beijing's jewelry and jade industry during the late Qing Dynasty, known as "one and a half people." This meant that among his peers, if we were to measure expertise by one and a half people, my grandfather would be considered one, while others would only be considered half. He could immediately determine the quality of a piece of jade or emerald with its skin intact. When people discussed a gemstone or piece of jade, they would ask, "Has Geng Jingshan examined it?" Once he had seen it, everyone was confident it was genuine. Due to the Boxer Rebellion, the saying "small chaos in the city, great chaos in the countryside" dictated that my grandfather moved his family's possessions back to his ancestral home. After returning to Beijing following the incident, their car was robbed by bandits when it reached Zhang Deng's place in Baoding City, and their family's fortunes declined from then on.
In 1929, at the age of seven, I entered Mengjiazhuang Township Primary School. I read books such as *The Citizen* and *The New Life Movement*, and from then on, I learned about Zhu Maichen, Newton, Watt, and others. My teacher was a patriot. In 1931, the "September 18 Incident" occurred, and Japan invaded and occupied Northeast China. Under the patriotic enlightenment of my teacher, I resolved from a young age to save the country through industry and not become a slave to a conquered nation. At that time, I rose at dawn every day to participate in the school's anti-Japanese drills and also served as the president of the Red Cross, learning first aid. Because of my strong will, I always ranked first in weekly, monthly, and quarterly exams, earning me the nickname "Big Strongman" from my classmates. In 1946, after I came of age, I co-founded an antique shop called "Zhenhua Zhai," meaning "Revitalizing China," an idea that stemmed from the enlightenment I received from my primary school teacher.
A photo taken in the 1960s with teacher Sun Yingzhou (from left to right: Geng Baochang, Feng Xianming, Sun Yingzhou, and Xu Jingxiu).
In early February 1936, I graduated from elementary school. Despite my excellent academic performance, my family's financial situation prevented them from supporting my continued education. My parents said, "Go and become an apprentice! It's the local custom for boys to leave home. Whether you succeed or not, give it a try!" So, at the age of 14, I was taken to Beijing by my old classmates Zhang Buchen and Geng Mingheng to stay with my cousin Geng Baoshan (also known as Chuzhen). At that time, he was working as a shop assistant at "Mingzhenzhai" in Liulichang. Before I left, according to local custom, it was customary for my family to arrange a marriage for me, and many people came to my home to propose marriage. But I refused, secretly resolving: "I must be ambitious, I must strive for excellence, I must stand out from the crowd, I must never give up halfway, and I cannot let anyone see me being rejected (a 'rejection' means failing and being sent back). I will not marry until I succeed." Because of my diligent studies, I always received my cousin's favor. He often told me stories about cultural relics when he came home, such as "The Orchid Pavilion Gathering," "Along the River During the Qingming Festival," and "Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River," which was the main reason I got into the antique business. Also, in my hometown in Hebei, most people were doing business elsewhere, but the types of business varied depending on where they came from. For example, people from Shenxian and Shulu mainly dealt in jewelry, jade, silver, and silk; people from Wuqiang, Raoyang, and Anping dealt in cloth; and people from Hengshui and Jixian dealt in rubbings of cultural relics and calligraphy, and also ran bookstores. This also influenced me to some extent.
At that time in Beijing, chemicals, glassware, and hardware were emerging and booming industries. Many households were installing water pumps, so the hardware industry flourished, mainly dealing in iron pipes and plates. Introduced by my cousin's friend Guo Fengzhang, I began my apprenticeship in the hardware industry. However, my frail body couldn't handle the heavy manual labor of carrying and pulling things entirely by hand. Two or three months later, through the introduction of Zhang Weizhi, a fellow villager, I went to the "Dunhuazhai" antique shop and became an apprentice under Mr. Sun Yingzhou. "Dunhuazhai" was founded in 1922 and was a large, reputable business. Mr. Sun Yingzhou was strict with his students, and his treatment was relatively generous compared to others in the industry. After a three-day trial period, I passed and officially became Mr. Sun's student, a position I held for ten years.
Looking back on this apprenticeship, I am filled with emotion. I used to secretly shed tears, and at night I would often calculate the time that had passed in those three years. Three years meant more than a thousand days without going home, which is more than 26,000 hours. When would it ever end!
"Dunhuazhai" was a large shop, a well-preserved old brand in Beijing. The building consisted of six interconnected rooms, three more around the corner, three rooms in the south courtyard, two rooms in the west courtyard, and a kitchen in the back, totaling about twenty rooms. In winter, there were four stoves that had to be kept burning constantly. There were over a dozen people working there; those who had arrived a day before me were considered senior apprentices. Because I was a junior apprentice, I had to serve all of them, doing all the odd jobs and heavy lifting. For example, carrying coal and water required going to Bensi Hutong, about 200 meters away. The cook was a tall man who often asked me to help him carry water and coal baskets back. Because I was short, when two of us tried to lift a bucket, it would slide off the carrying pole and onto my side. The weaker you were, the heavier the work you had to do. The shop had four stoves and a large kitchen stove of different sizes; the coal had to be broken into different sizes according to the size of the stove's firebox and stacked neatly. The four brass spittoons had to be polished to a gleaming shine, free of any water stains. The seven or eight tobacco pipes provided for guests had to be cleared of air daily. The cement floor in the shop had to be scrubbed until you could see your reflection. The brick floor was swept from east to west and vice versa; my senior colleague sat beside me, bending over and looking sideways, watching closely, because if it was even slightly off, it had to be swept again once or twice. A dozen or so people slept in makeshift beds each night—one bed, three planks, two stools—each set up, bedding placed on top, and a chamber pot brought to each person and placed at the head of the bed. The next morning, the beds were dismantled, the chamber pots cleaned, and water for washing faces and rinsing mouths prepared. All the rosewood and mahogany tables, chairs, and cabinets had to be wiped clean daily, and the perforations had to be sifted through with a cloth. The glass, as large as the entrance, had to be crystal clear, without a trace of dirt. Six or seven door panels had to be disassembled and reassembled daily. The carpet had to be carried out and beaten at night. And so, every day I worked from 5 a.m. until midnight to finish my tasks.
In 1974, at the Shufangzhai Hall of the Forbidden City (from left to right: Geng Baochang, Director Wu Zhongchao, Director Wang Yeqiu, and Feng Xianming).
Whenever a table was set for a meal, with four to six people at a time, I was responsible for setting the dishes. If I didn't set the dishes well at first, my senior apprentice would scold me: "Haven't you ever eaten pork, but you've never even seen a pig run?" Not only did I have to serve everyone, but I also couldn't fall behind. If it was time to eat noodles, I would secretly ask the cook to rinse them with cold water so I could eat faster. So, during my three years of apprenticeship, regardless of winter or summer, I never once ate hot noodles.
Mr. Sun is quite strict with us. The moment you hear him grumble, it means he's about to lose his temper, so everyone quickly finds something to do. Some tidy up, some do chores, and some go out to do tasks—no one can be idle or do nothing. Because of his strict demands, we all work very carefully.
During the Lunar New Year, "speaking official language" meant the teacher would evaluate everyone's performance throughout the year, then reward them according to their work. When the big feast was being held, no unlucky words were allowed. For example, if you wanted more dumplings, you had to say, "There's plenty!" Once, a senior student mistakenly said, "There's none left," and got punched by the teacher. On New Year's Eve, when it was time to distribute the year's wages, the teacher instead let everyone play dominoes, and by dawn everyone had lost. On New Year's Day morning, the teacher urged everyone to visit relatives and friends, and when they returned that evening, he made them play dominoes again, and everyone lost. So, the teacher asked everyone, "How much did you lose? How much did he lose?" and then returned everyone's losses. After refunding the money, he continued, "Do you understand? This is called greed. Playing cards is the same as doing business. If you really understand, then buy; if you don't, don't be greedy for cheap deals. If you don't really understand but are greedy enough to buy, you'll be fooled. That's what greed means—you'll lose. Look at you all, you've all lost because of your greed!" Mr. Sun Yingzhou taught us in this way that we should be cautious in our actions, understand all kinds of principles, and not be greedy or lose sight of ourselves.
In 1974 at the Kansas Museum in the United States (first from left: Hickman; second from left: Mai Yinghao; third from left: Geng Baochang)
After completing my three-year apprenticeship, my master, recognizing my honesty, loyalty, and diligence, assigned me to manage the accounts, bank and bank transactions, and vaults. I was extremely meticulous in my vault management, ensuring everything—plates and bowls—was neatly arranged. Over 10,000 artifacts circulated annually, and none were ever damaged in my hands. On rainy days when business was slow, I would hire craftsmen to make paper bags and boxes at home. My master stipulated that the bags and boxes must be free of insects and dust; for withdrawing banknotes, depositing money, and transporting artifacts, I could not hire vehicles, but always rode bicycles; after the artifacts were properly wrapped, they were tied to the crossbar of the bicycle, ensuring that if the rider and the bicycle fell over, the artifacts would not be damaged. This experience honed my skills.
The bicycles and monthly passes in the shop are never idle, and the staff are never idle either; as soon as one person returns, another is immediately dispatched. The teacher said, "This is called 'keeping the horse running even when the people are resting.'" Making full use of time and manpower.
At the end of the year, the account books need to be changed, and the accounts for more than 10,000 cultural relics need to be rewritten every year. First, the old accounts are checked against the items, and the numbers of sold and newly acquired items are moved up one by one. While my fellow apprentices were out playing, I did this work in the shop by myself. I wrote them down, calculated the costs, and used coded words such as heaven, earth, sun, moon, and stars to represent the amounts; verified the accounts and items, printed the stamps, wrote and numbered the items, and affixed the original numbers. This process had to be done four times, taking at least a month to complete. Doing this work was very beneficial to me, making me thoroughly familiar with the cultural relics I handled.
In 1986, Geng Baochang (right) and Feng Xianming (left) traveled to Amsterdam, Netherlands to participate in an auction of an ancient Chinese shipwreck.
How did you learn antique appraisal back then? No one taught you; you had to study and pay attention on your own. In the shop's main hall, the teachers and customers would sit and discuss things, while I stood by, serving them and listening intently. When the teachers and customers finished their tea, I had to refill it immediately; as soon as they put on their pipes, I had to strike a match to light them. Once, I was so engrossed in listening that when I saw someone about to smoke, I rushed to strike a match and accidentally lit the matchbox, burning my finger. Not daring to disturb the customers and teachers, I had to offer them a light with my right hand while swinging my left arm behind my back, trembling with pain. To this day, my left thumb still bears a scar from that burn, a piece of flesh missing.
At night, after everyone had fallen asleep, in the quiet of the night, I would mentally replay the artifacts I had seen and heard about during the day, gradually gaining insights from them. Sometimes, the teacher would test us with one or a few artifacts, giving each of us a slip of paper and asking us to write down our guesses about their age. At first, I was thrilled whenever I wrote the correct answer. As the days went by, I gradually wrote more and more correct answers on the slips of paper the teacher gave me. Developing a keen eye is very difficult; it can't be done in a day or two. It looks easy, but it's hard to do. Through my own experience, I've realized that no matter how smart or hardworking a person is, it takes three to five years of study and reflection to truly grasp a subject. Therefore, I've summarized it in a saying: "Three years to get started, ten years to succeed." Learning ancient ceramics appraisal follows the same pattern as learning any other profession: besides diligence, you also need to be attentive and perceptive. Without attentiveness, you'll just follow what others say, never developing your own independent insights or ideas. The object in front of you may be genuine or fake. Regardless of its value, you must at least determine its age. Otherwise, it's meaningless, let alone possessing any historical, artistic, or scientific value. These days, the acquisition of cultural relics involves hundreds of thousands, millions, or even tens of millions of yuan. If the age is wrong, who can bear the responsibility?
In 1993, Geng Baochang confirmed it as a first-class national collection item at the Hebei Provincial Museum.
After completing my apprenticeship, the teacher assigned everyone to work outside, but he always kept me out. I really wanted to go out and try things out, to experience society. Later, when the teacher finally gave me a job, I was both happy and nervous. At first, the teacher instructed me on how to say and do things, and I tried my best to remember, like a child remembering that the money in my left hand is for vinegar and the money in my right hand is for salt. Because I had never been exposed to society before, I was constantly uneasy, my mind pounding as I walked: What should I say when I get there? What should I say first and what should I say next? I've never met them before, how should I talk to them? ... But when I got there, what I said was different from what I had planned. I forgot what I was supposed to say, and only remembered it after I left. Should I go back and tell them? That would be embarrassing; but if I didn't go, I hadn't said what I was supposed to say, and I started to worry... When I returned to the shop, I reported to the teacher how I had done everything I was supposed to say. The teacher asked, "Is that how you said it?" Oh! My heart skipped a beat, and my face betrayed my nervousness. Because of this nervousness, I often end up making a complete mess of things.
I remember we had two really high-end, fantastic German-made bicycles with white plates in our shop. Riding them on the road felt amazing! Like driving a Mercedes now. Back then, cars were scarce; almost everyone walked. It only took about half an hour to walk to the front door. The joy of being able to ride a bike to run errands was indescribable! But when it came to actually doing the errands, we often messed things up. Therefore, everything requires practice. You have to learn by doing, accumulating experience step by step, and over time, you develop the skills. That's why when I teach students now, I always put them on the front lines, letting them try things out. Everyone has to go through this stage to develop the skills needed to act with ease and be thorough. Everything starts from scratch.
Back then, our teacher often tested us. One night at midnight, Mr. Sun returned from Tianjin with a package, telling us to deliver it to someone the next morning. At the time, no one paid any attention to it. The next morning, we were about to leave with the package when Mr. Sun shouted, "Come back! Where are you going?" We replied, "To deliver something!" Mr. Sun said, "Don't you even look at what you're delivering? Did he buy it or sell it? Would you deliver a bomb? Don't you even consider how you'll explain it to him? Just deliver it like that! What will you eat then?" We were all stunned. When we opened the package, we discovered it was a Song Dynasty Ge ware flowerpot. It turned out our teacher had just bought it. This was our teacher testing our quick thinking, our attention to detail, and our ability to use our brains.
In the shop, you have to be attentive and focused on everything. For example, if the teacher asks me to fetch something, I'm sure I won't be able to if I'm not familiar with the process. Sometimes, when he asks me to retrieve an antique, he'll just say, "Bring me the one with the handle." What handle? Short handle or long handle? Every time, the item is on the table the moment he finishes speaking. This mainly relies on being skilled, attentive, observant, flexible, and always having a keen eye, not just shirking responsibility. If you can't get something, you'll definitely get a scolding from the teacher: "You silly boy, are you just eating for free?!"
Back then, I often secretly thought, "After three years of apprenticeship, I'd be happy to serve here!" But when my apprenticeship ended, I felt I wasn't ready to run the shop on my own, so I persisted in working at "Dunhua Zhai." After completing my apprenticeship, I was the youngest in the shop, and also the one who often received a thumbs-up from customers. Ten years later, in August 1945, I finally left Teacher Sun's shop. In 1946, my cousin and I opened "Zhenhua Zhai," which officially opened for business. I was 24 years old that year.
Even now, I still don't understand how I actually learned it three years later.
I believe there are several reasons why I later achieved certain success: First, I studied under a renowned master. My teacher, Mr. Sun Yingzhou, was already well-versed in the famous kilns of all dynasties in the 1930s, especially in the Yongle and Xuande wares of the early Ming Dynasty, earning him the title of "King of Xuande" among his peers. He was not only highly skilled himself but also rigorously demanding of us. We had to answer his questions fluently; not being able to answer was unacceptable—truly, "a strict teacher produces outstanding students." Second, I apprenticed at a large shop. Large shops have a vast collection of artifacts, with a comprehensive range of categories. I often viewed 10,000 exquisite cultural relics annually, allowing me to see and study them repeatedly, thus building a solid foundation. Third, I was diligent and dedicated. I had ambition and aspirations; as the saying goes, "constant dripping wears away a stone," and "where there's a will, there's a way," and heaven rewards those who persevere.
Learning is a boundless sea; continuous improvement is essential.
In 1956, Wang Yeqiu, director of the Cultural Relics Bureau, and Wu Zhongchao, director of the Palace Museum, visited Mr. Sun Yingzhou's home to discuss united front work. They asked where Mr. Sun's students were and whether one or two could be selected to work at the Palace Museum. Soon after, Mr. Sun relayed the leaders' intentions to me and asked if I would like to come to the Palace Museum. On November 12 of that year, I officially reported to the Palace Museum.
After arriving at the Palace Museum, my initial task was to prepare for Director Wu Zhongchao's visit to the Soviet Union, organizing the cultural relics donated to the Soviet Union. Soon after, I was transferred to the restoration factory to focus on organizing so-called "non-cultural relics." In March 1957, I was transferred to the warehouse management group, where I managed the craft and ceramics warehouses. Together with comrades Ouyang Nanhua, Liang Kuangzhong, Liu Bokun, Wang Shutong, and Xu Songlin, we conducted centralized appraisal and organization of approximately 100,000 cultural relics in these two types of warehouses, establishing accounts, indexes, and special storage facilities.
The Palace Museum's work on organizing and tidying up its artifacts was generally divided into three phases: the first phase, from 1954 to 1959, involved implementing the "Scheme for Organizing Historically Stockpiled Items"; the second phase, from 1960 to 1965, involved scientifically organizing the collections, further identifying and classifying rare artifacts, creating archives, establishing a general register of all artifacts in the museum, and conducting three-way verification of artifacts; the third phase, from 1978 to 1985, involved implementing the Palace Museum's "Seven-Year Plan for Organizing and Tidying Up the Warehouses." From 1957, when I joined the Conservation Department, I worked in the warehouse. Besides re-identifying and classifying tens of thousands of artifacts, I patiently shared my identification experience with other colleagues. I was involved in every aspect of the daily work in the warehouse, from cleaning, moving artifacts, pushing and pulling carts, carrying and lifting cabinets, and earthquake preparedness, to organizing, numbering, and shelving—always sharing the hardships and toil with everyone. It wasn't until after 1986, when I was over 60, that I was able to leave my warehouse management position and focus my main energy on mentoring students, conducting research, and writing books.
Visiting the National Palace Museum in Taipei, Director Chin Hsiao-yi, in the 1990s (first from left: Li Hui-bing; second from left: Geng Bao-chang; third from left: Chin Hsiao-yi)
Having worked in the warehouse for decades, I have written two unpublished articles on the preservation of cultural relics, totaling over 24,000 words: "A Few Thoughts on the Safe Preservation of Ancient Ceramics" and "The Porcelain Warehouse." "A Few Thoughts on the Safe Preservation of Ancient Ceramics" provides a detailed discussion of the scientific management of cultural relics in the warehouse, including warehouse security, procedures for the entry and exit of relics, the responsibilities of warehouse staff, precautions and operating procedures for handling relics, staff attire, numbering, and cleaning. To enable warehouse staff to manage different types of porcelain differently, it also analyzes the properties of ceramics (such as the types of clay, glaze, sand, mud, and stoneware), ceramic defects (more than 50 types including rough edges, soil erosion, soil rust, kiln cracks, and glaze loss), modifications and forgeries after porcelain breakage, and the decorative content of porcelain. "The Porcelain Warehouse" provides a detailed record of the changes in the Palace Museum's ceramic warehouse, the contents of each warehouse, the types of warehouses, the indoor storage capacity, staffing, and changes. It is a partial history of the preservation work of cultural relics in the Palace Museum's warehouse, and it fills some gaps in the archives. The two drafts were written in 1979. Soon I will compile and publish "Random Thoughts on the Safe Preservation of Ancient Ceramics" for reference by my colleagues in the safe preservation of cultural relics.
In the 1950s and 60s, the working conditions for warehouse managers were extremely harsh. There was no rule against entering the warehouse in winter; even in heavy snow, they would carry large baskets of porcelain from the Hongyi Pavilion warehouse in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony to the east and west courtyards of the Ningshou Gate (now the Treasure Gallery) and into the warehouse. Because the warehouse had no fire, no heating, and no electricity, the doors and windows of the Nine-Dragon Wall warehouse had to be kept open to work. For this reason, the superiors issued each person a hot water bottle. When cataloging and writing cards, they would breathe hot air onto each character, usually working until dusk before leaving the warehouse. They would also leave work on the 30th of the twelfth lunar month as usual, unable to go home early for the New Year. Especially at that time, the focus was on serving production, selecting, preserving, and allocating items, plus unpacking artifacts returning north, which involved repeated cycles, making the work particularly intense. However, looking back now, from another perspective, although the work was tiring, the frequent and large number of artifacts handled significantly improved their skills. It can be said that the Palace Museum is China's largest treasure trove of ancient art. Among its nearly one million artifacts, ceramics alone account for more than 350,000 pieces, representing more than one-third of the total. Working here is like attending the world's best university, like swimming in a vast ocean of knowledge—the lessons are endless and the benefits are inexhaustible.
In 2005, Geng Baochang appeared on CCTV's "Masters" interview program.
In terms of artifact organization, although it's called scientific organization, it's relative; it's impossible to achieve 100% accuracy at any stage. With the progress of the times, the improvement of understanding, and new discoveries in archaeological excavations, even artifacts that have been identified will yield new findings. This has been true in the past, and it will continue to be true in the future. Science allows no falsehoods, nor can it be simply a matter of one person overturning another's conclusions. Work is about practice, improvement, more practice, and more improvement. During this stage, in 1958, during the Great Leap Forward, Mr. Ouyang Nanhua and I invented the "One-Time Safety Measuring Ruler for Artifacts," which greatly improved work efficiency. With just one ruler, the dimensions of the mouth, neck, foot, and the height and width of the body of an artifact could be determined, reducing the need for individual measurements. Simultaneously, during the organization process, a large number of newly discovered precious artifacts and re-identified artifacts, after my review, were recognized by others, with changes made in terms of era and level. I have also collected several first-class national treasures for the Palace Museum, such as: a three-dimensional jade mythical beast from the Hongshan Culture period, a Yue ware long-necked vase from the Tang Dynasty, a Ge ware sunflower-shaped bowl from the Song Dynasty, a Yaozhou ware carved plum vase from the Song Dynasty, a Jun ware bell-shaped flowerpot from the Song Dynasty, a Chenghua blue-and-white porcelain jar with lotus leaf design and figures from the Ming Dynasty, and a Longquan ware carved plate with a Qianlong mark. These are all rare and precious items. Two pieces originally in the Palace Museum's collection were identified as Song Dynasty Xuanhe ware porcelain. One of them was transferred to the National Museum of China. Both were initially classified as first-class national treasures, but after my appraisal, a consensus was reached that they were reclassified as imitations by Tang Ying, the supervisor of the kilns during the Qianlong period. The Yongle red-glazed three-monkey water dropper published in the "Selected Porcelain Collection of the Palace Museum" is confirmed by me to be a Kangxi imitation; the Chenghua doucai animal-patterned jar was actually a Qing Yongzheng imitation of a Ming dynasty piece, and this has also been corrected in terms of dating.
From my long-term work experience, I've realized that becoming a truly top-tier expert is extremely difficult; often only two or three out of 100 people achieve this, and I myself am no exception. In authentication, I feel I'm only half-baked, a little better than one leg. Some issues cannot be accurately described even with the most beautiful language. For example, the softness and hardness of the porcelain's body and glaze. Most fakes lack the firmness and hardness of genuine pieces, resulting in a different texture. This is a matter of accumulated, intuitive understanding, often something that can only be felt, not explained. Cultural relic workers should strive to develop an eye as penetrating as X-ray vision.
From 1969 to 1971, I accompanied a large group of Palace Museum staff to the "May Seventh" Cadre School in Xianning, Hubei Province, where I participated in arduous labor. In May 1971, Wang Yeqiu, Director of the State Administration of Cultural Heritage, transferred me back to prepare for the "Exhibition of Cultural Relics Unearthed in the People's Republic of China," sponsored by the State Administration of Cultural Heritage and to be displayed in the Cining Palace. Afterwards, I and some colleagues from other places worked in the Wuying Hall of the Palace Museum to prepare for the establishment of the Committee for the Overseas Exhibition and to organize the overseas exhibition, undertaking most of the tedious administrative work.
In 1973, with the help of Director Wang, I was sent to France to participate in the first "Exhibition of Cultural Relics Unearthed in the People's Republic of China" exhibition, which lasted for nearly half a year.
From 1974 to 1975, I served as an accompanying staff member, working for nearly a year in Washington, Kansas, and San Francisco, after the exhibition in Canada. At that time, Director Wang instructed us to make many friends, as this was another cultural relics diplomacy activity following the Ping-Pong Diplomacy. As a diplomatic envoy, I deeply felt the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders and was also proud of it. The situation in the United States deeply moved me. Upon the arrival of the cultural relics, the transport was led by three motorcycles, with the relics vehicle in the middle and the radio truck behind, sirens blaring all the way. Airplanes patrolled overhead, and a cavalry unit guarded the exhibition hall—a truly impressive and awe-inspiring sight. Many overseas Chinese came to see us every day; Yang Zhenning, Yang Liansheng, Zhao Yuanren, Ding Zhaozhong, Chen Shengshen, and Li Zhengdao visited every few days, telling the accompanying staff, "Your arrival has made the Chinese people stand tall." Therefore, the significance of cultural relics exhibitions far exceeds the concept of artistic activities; it has long since transcended that boundary.
In 1980, when Sino-US assets were unfrozen, the Bank of America held 15 pieces of Qing Dynasty porcelain stored by Puyi, which could be redeemed for US$100,000. However, the Bank of China lacked experts in cultural relics and was unable to appraise them. Mr. Zhang Xueyao, the Second Secretary of the Chinese Mission to the United Nations, visited the Palace Museum several times to request assistance. Later, the State Administration of Cultural Heritage decided to send me, and Comrade Jin Feng accompanied me to the State Council to meet with Secretary-General Jin Ming. Comrade Jin Ming instructed me, "A general in the field may disobey orders from the emperor," entrusting me with the final decision on whether to redeem the relics. He also stated that a valuation of US$200,000 would be sufficient to justify the redemption.
Without any accompaniment or translator, and with only $20 given to me by the government for the journey, I set off from Beijing on January 20th, traveling to Guangzhou, then via Hong Kong, to Tokyo, Japan, then to Alaska, USA, and finally arriving in New York.
On the day I arrived at the bank, there were about twenty or thirty people from six organizations, including personnel from my country's embassy at the United Nations, the US courts, and banks. They waited until everyone was present before opening the vault. The vault was brightly lit, and under the intense light, the red and black hues of the porcelain changed, but I could clearly see that the items were of good quality, and I initially estimated their value at $200,000. Having made up my mind, I immediately told my personnel to call Hong Kong, and they confirmed that payment was possible. When the artifacts were taken out and brought into the sunlight, the Kangxi-era porcelain was exceptional, and the value was reassessed to over $1 million. On the way back, it was the end of the year, and the bank instructed me to take the artifacts with me back to Hong Kong, a very dangerous task. I carried the artifacts between my legs the entire way, determined to stay with them at all costs, vowing to perish with them. After a tense ten-plus hours of flight, thankfully, I arrived safely in Hong Kong on the morning of the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month.
Soon after, they selected five of the inferior porcelain pieces and sold them for US$178,000 at an exhibition in Hong Kong. After making up the US$100,000 owed to the middleman, they earned US$78,000 and acquired ten precious cultural relics. This experience made me realize how valuable my teacher's strict requirements were. Learning requires a solid foundation; one must be able to answer three questions without faltering. Only then can one stand alone in crucial moments and shoulder heavy responsibilities for the country.
In 1984, in the South China Sea, British explorer Michael Hatcher salvaged an ancient Chinese flat-bottomed shipwreck containing over 20,000 pieces of late Ming dynasty porcelain. According to international law, if the sovereign state of the ship claims its return within one year, it can claim 40% to 50% of the shipwreck's artifacts. If no claim is made after one year, the artifacts can be auctioned off. A year later, the British explorer auctioned the artifacts in Amsterdam, Netherlands, earning over 100,000 pounds. He then purchased advanced equipment and salvage tools, and in 1986, he conducted another salvage operation, recovering 150,000 pieces of Qing dynasty porcelain from the Yongzheng and Qianlong periods. The State Administration of Cultural Heritage believed the shipwreck's age was clear and wanted to buy back some of the export porcelain from the ship. Therefore, they sent Mr. Feng Xianming and me to the site. Before we left, the Administration gave us $30,000, instructing us to purchase the artifacts at three times the auction price. In the Netherlands, we stayed at the Chinese Embassy in The Hague and visited Amsterdam during the day. The auction was held at the local Hilton Hotel, attracting collectors, antique dealers, and wealthy individuals from all over the world. The dazzling array of porcelain was overwhelming. The advertising slogan was incredibly enticing: "Orders from two hundred years ago arrive today!" We were among the first guests from China, and as the most respected VIPs, we were seated in the first row and given paddle number one. However, as soon as the auction began, the starting price increased tenfold. We had reserved to purchase no more than three times the starting price; meaning if the catalog listed a price of $1,000, we could only spend a maximum of $3,000. But the bidding started with bids of $10,000, $20,000, $30,000, and we could only watch others buy.
Upon our return, we immediately co-signed a report to the State Council, recommending the prompt establishment of our own underwater archaeology team. An enlarged meeting was convened under the auspices of the State Council, attended by representatives from the Navy, the Oceanographic Bureau, the Chinese Academy of Sciences, the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, the Diving Team, the Ministry of Transport, the National Museum of China, and the State Administration of Cultural Heritage. Following approval from the State Council, the Chinese Underwater Archaeology Team was officially established in 1987. Now, nearly 30 years later, our country's underwater archaeology work has achieved remarkable results and is flourishing, moving towards scientific underwater archaeology.
In 1988, Mr. and Mrs. Yang Yongde, Hong Kong industrialists and antique collectors, read my book "Appraisal of Ming and Qing Porcelain," which mentioned that their Ming Dynasty Tianshun-marked blue-and-white three-legged censer with Persian inscriptions was a rare find. The Yangs then asked Mr. Mai Yinghao of the Guangzhou Museum to convey to me that, given its value, they wished to donate their Ming Dynasty Tianshun-marked blue-and-white three-legged censer with Persian inscriptions and Yongli-marked brown-glazed censer to the Palace Museum, and asked me to relay this message to the museum. On October 22, 1988, after my appraisal, the censers were confirmed to be genuine. The Yangs donated the artifacts to the Palace Museum free of charge, and an award ceremony was held at the Shufangzhai Hall of the Palace Museum, where they were presented with certificates and awards, fulfilling their lifelong wish.
Time flies, and before I knew it, I was nearly ninety years old, having been involved in the cultural relics field for 73 years. The past events are vivid in my mind, and I have many insights. Looking back on my learning journey, I deeply feel that several points are extremely important.
First, one must find a good teacher at the beginning of one's studies and respect the teacher's seniority. While there are indeed self-taught individuals, they are extremely rare. Most people who claim to be self-taught or self-taught are simply deceiving themselves.
Secondly, one must set lofty goals and objectives from the outset, striving for excellence and cutting-edge knowledge. Simultaneously, the learning process should be likened to a folding fan. One's major is the fan's axis, while expanding knowledge is like the gradually unfolding fan blades; one's workplace is the central axis, while a global perspective is like the radiating fan surface. Only through this gradual accumulation of knowledge, grounded in reality yet with a broad vision, can one achieve both theoretical depth and practical application, becoming a well-rounded individual with diverse skills.
Thirdly, one must strive for a solid foundation in learning. Don't be afraid of going slowly; the key is perseverance. Learning one character or one skill each day is like a long-distance race. The one lagging behind may be slower, but if they persevere to the finish line, they will ultimately be the winner. With a solid foundation, one can withstand numerous challenges and remain unfazed. Proficiency in any profession or skill takes time and effort. As the saying goes, "One minute on stage requires ten years of practice off stage," or "Ten years to hone a sword."
Fourth, learning must be done with honesty. As the sage said, "To know what you know, and to know what you don't know, is true knowledge." No one is a saint, so it is not shameful to be ignorant in some areas. Recognizing one's shortcomings through learning can motivate one to continuously expand one's knowledge, to learn further, and to hone one's skills. Avoid superficial understanding, half-hearted attempts, and simply echoing others' opinions. Regardless of what others say or what is written in books, ultimately, one must base one's approach on "materialism" and seek truth from facts.
Fifth, in work, study, and interpersonal relationships, one must avoid arrogance, blind self-confidence, and self-importance, and refusing to allow others to speak or listen to what others say. As the sage said, "Among three people walking together, there must be one who can teach me." As long as one humbly seeks knowledge, everyone can become one's teacher. The sea of learning is boundless, and there is no end to learning; one should learn until old age.
(Note: Further reading is available from the Palace Museum.)
