Chinese Knotting. Lydia Chen

Pao-yu has summoned Ying-erh to his quarters to ask her to tie a few knotted tassels for him. During their discussion, Ying-erh divulges a host of information: where the knots can be used, the selection of the proper color of cord, a hint at the amount of time needed to tie the knots, and a list of those she is able to tie. The knots in her repertoire bear such fanciful names as the incense knot, the sunflower knot, the plum blossom knot, the elephant’s eye knot, the willow leaf knot, and the double diamond knot. These tantalizing names actually tell us little of the designs of the knots; the only one that has survived is the double diamond knot. Nevertheless, the passage demonstrates the wide variety of purely decorative knots in use during the Ching Dynasty.

      But by the later Ching, we no longer have to rely on secondhand references. A fine selection of Ching knotwork survives today, housed in the National Palace Museum in Taipei. There are many complex and exquisite Ching knots gracing tassels attached to a host of objects — chops, fans, scepters, sachets, and even eyeglass cases. Even more impressive are knotted liu su, large composite hangings made of many knots tied in a multitude of shapes — dragons, carp, phoenix, and cranes, to name a few. The design of these liu su is strikingly reminiscent of the jade belt ornaments surviving from the 12th century B.C. The only difference is that the small carved pieces of jade have been replaced with intricate knots. In the Ching Dynasty, these liu su decorated large pieces of furniture or accented interior architectural design, hanging from bed canopies, sedan chairs, terrace gables, and the like. Often tied by single girls for their trousseaus, these extravagant medleys required a high degree of skill. Their technical execution, along with the preservation of ancient motifs and designs, leaves no doubt that they were the culmination of a tradition dating back to ancient times.

      The decorative knotting tradition continued into the early days of the Republic. But the flood of Western science and technology in this century has changed our lifestyles. In the rush to modernize, we seem to have ignored the traditional arts and crafts. Furthermore, the availability of mass-produced trinkets made handmade knotwork obsolete. The art of knotting was on the verge of extinction.

      A decade ago, the only people in Taiwan who knew anything about traditional decorative knotting were a handful of senior citizens and curio dealers. Then, in 1976, a series of articles appeared in ECHO Magazine, one of which explained how some of the simple knots were tied. From this humble beginning, a few creative spirits and cultural afficionados began to try their hands at it. Chinese knotting regained a precarious hold on life.

      Today, knotting is again becoming a widespread hobby, as people are rediscovering the relaxation, artistic satisfaction, and beautiful personalized ornamentation it can offer. In addition to learning and sharing the techniques of tying the knots of old, some practitioners are inventing new ones and experimenting with a broad range of new materials — cotton, hemp, durable synthetic fibers, leather, and even fishing line. This promises to add a new and exciting dimension to this ancient craft.