The story of Xiamen is often told through its harbor, a gateway of maritime silk and Hokkien ambition. Visitors arrive on Gulangyu Islet, lured by the symphony of pianos and the colonial architecture, believing they have uncovered the city's heart. But there is a deeper, more silent rhythm that has pulsed through this island for centuries, a rhythm written not in notes, but in ink. It is the history of calligraphy, the art of the brush that has shaped Xiamen's cultural landscape, etching its philosophy onto stone, scroll, and the very spirit of the place. To understand Xiamen is to learn to read its script.
Long before it was known as Amoy to the Western world, the region around Xiamen was a canvas for the classical Chinese literati tradition. The bedrock of this art form lies not in museums, but in the open air, on the very mountains that frame the city.
Nanchputuo Temple, nestled at the foot of Wulao Peak, is more than a sanctuary for prayer; it is a living library of stone calligraphy. As you ascend the paths, you are not merely climbing steps but walking through a curated exhibition of epigraphy. Inscribed steles, or beike, line the corridors, their surfaces worn smooth by time and countless reverent touches. Here, the bold, regular script of the Tang dynasty officials stands beside the flowing, expressive cursive of Ming and Qing scholars. These are not random graffiti; they are deliberate offerings, poems and prayers dedicated to the Buddha, carved by masters whose names are sometimes lost, but whose hands are forever remembered in the stone's memory. The act of visiting Nanputuo becomes a tactile experience of history. You trace the characters with your eyes, feeling the strength of the clerical script, the urgency of the running script, and you begin to understand that for the Chinese scholar, writing was a form of cultivation, a meditation that linked the human world to the cosmic.
Even Gulangyu, the island of a thousand pianos, holds calligraphic secrets. Amidst the Victorian villas and lush gardens, the discerning eye will find couplets carved into the granite doorframes of old mansions. These are not the grandiose declarations of the temple, but the more intimate musings of the merchants and diplomats who made Gulangyu their home. A phrase wishing for prosperity, a line of poetry expressing solitude, or a simple family motto—each is a glimpse into the mind of the resident. The calligraphy here is often elegant and refined, reflecting the owner's desire to project an image of sophistication and cultural attainment, a crucial asset in the cosmopolitan society of the treaty port era. Finding these inscriptions turns a stroll through Gulangyu's winding lanes into a treasure hunt, where every doorway tells a story written in beautiful, enduring script.
The Hokkien people, the native inhabitants of Southern Fujian, have always placed a high value on education and cultural refinement. Xiamen, as a central hub, became a natural gathering place for scholars, painters, and calligraphers. This was not art for public display, but for personal cultivation.
No figure looms larger in modern Xiamen's cultural history than Tan Kah-kee (Chen Jiageng). A philanthropic tycoon, he founded the Jimei School Village, a sprawling complex of academic institutions. For Tan, education was holistic; it was about building character as much as intellect. And at the heart of this character-building was calligraphy. In the schools he established, students were rigorously trained in the art of the brush. The practice was seen as essential for developing discipline, patience, and an appreciation for aesthetic beauty. The very architecture of Jimei, with its distinctive Hui'an style, often features grand calligraphic plaques. These are not mere decorations; they are manifestos. Inscriptions of "Sincerity," "Perseverance," and "Patriotism" are rendered in powerful, unwavering strokes, embodying the values Tan wished to instill in the next generation. A visit to Jimei is incomplete without contemplating these words. They represent the modern application of an ancient art, using calligraphy as a tool for social and moral engineering.
Similarly, the grounds of Xiamen University, often called the most beautiful campus in China, are dotted with calligraphic monuments. From the inscriptions on the main gate to the poetic lines carved onto boulders in the lush gardens, the campus is a testament to the university's role as a custodian of traditional culture. It’s common to see students practicing water calligraphy on the granite paving stones in the early morning, using large brushes dipped in water to write perfect characters that evaporate under the sun—a poignant metaphor for the transient yet perpetual nature of practice and learning.
In contemporary Xiamen, calligraphy has not been relegated to history books. It has evolved, finding new expressions and new audiences, seamlessly integrating into the city's vibrant tourism and cultural economy.
Walk down the bustling Zhongshan Road pedestrian street or the tourist-friendly shops on Gulangyu, and you will find calligraphy everywhere. This is where art meets commerce in the most delightful way. Artisans set up small stalls, where for a small fee, they will paint your name in elegant Chinese calligraphy on a fan or a scroll. For foreign visitors, this is a powerful souvenir—a personalized piece of ancient art. Other popular items include name chops, or seals (yìnzhāng), carved with one's name in a stylized script. These are not just trinkets; they are a bridge. They allow a traveler to physically possess a piece of the culture, to carry home a tangible piece of Xiamen's calligraphic soul. The act of commissioning such a piece is a mini-cultural exchange, a moment of connection between the artist's skilled hand and the tourist's curiosity.
A growing trend in experiential travel has seen the rise of calligraphy workshops tailored for tourists. Many cultural centers, boutique hotels, and even some cafes in the Siming district now offer short courses. Under the guidance of a local master, visitors learn to grind the inkstick on the inkstone, to hold the bamboo brush correctly, and to execute the basic strokes of characters like "mountain" (山) or "eternity" (永). This hands-on experience is transformative. It moves calligraphy from an object of observation to an act of participation. The struggle to control the brush, to balance the ink and water, and to create something beautiful, however imperfect, fosters a deep respect for the skill involved. It is a memory far more enduring than any photograph.
Xiamen's city planners have also embraced calligraphy as a key element of urban design. In parks like the Xiamen Botanical Garden or along the scenic Binhai Road, you will find large-scale sculptures inspired by cursive script. These twisting, metallic forms capture the energy and flow of a brushstroke frozen in time. They translate the two-dimensional art of the scroll into a three-dimensional landscape, making calligraphy an integral part of the city's visual identity. This fusion of traditional art with modern public space design creates a unique aesthetic that is distinctly Xiamen—a city that honors its past while looking firmly towards the future.
The hum of Xiamen's modern life is undeniable. Yet, beneath the surface of a thriving metropolis, the ancient art of the brush continues to breathe. It is in the weathered stones of Nanputuo, the scholarly plaques of Jimei, the personalized souvenirs on Zhongshan Road, and the graceful sweeps of public art. To engage with Xiamen's calligraphy is to read the city's deepest diary, a chronicle of faith, learning, commerce, and beauty, all written in the timeless language of ink.
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Author: Xiamen Travel
Link: https://xiamentravel.github.io/travel-blog/the-history-of-calligraphy-in-xiamen.htm
Source: Xiamen Travel
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