Copy Right: The Painstaking Method and Magic of Mastering a Replica

ZHEJIANG, East China — Deep in the vaults of the Shanghai Museum, artifacts of China’s distant past lay preserved but hidden from public view.

Among them was a Han dynasty (206 BC–AD 220) sword, weathered by two millennia, and garments from the Song (960–1279) and Ming (1368–1644) dynasties, their once intricate weaves now faded. Both are fragile links to craftsmanship and cultural heritage on the brink of disappearing.

To bring them back to life, the Shanghai Museum took on an ambitious project: recreating the artifacts not as simple visual replicas, but as painstaking reconstructions using the traditional techniques that shaped them centuries ago.

The sword had to be hand-forged by one of China’s few remaining traditional swordsmiths, using ancient techniques to match the original’s strength and balance. The garments, on the other hand, required detailed analysis and precise weaving skills to recreate their intricate patterns on traditional looms.

Leading the project is Shi Yuan, director of the Craft Research Department at the Shanghai Museum, who has spent years preparing for the opening of the museum’s new East Branch.

This branch oversees the “Jiangnan Craftsmanship Hall,” which highlights traditional crafts from the Jiangnan region — a historic area in eastern China, south of the Yangtze River, encompassing modern-day Jiangsu and Zhejiang provinces, and Shanghai. The recreated sword and garments are set to be centerpiece exhibits.

“This choice reflects not only the fragility of some original artifacts, which cannot endure prolonged exposure to light, but also our goal of showcasing the preservation and continuation of traditional craftsmanship,” Shi explained.

Across China, a growing number of national museums are embracing “craft restoration” — a method that emphasizes recreating artifacts not just for their appearance, but as faithful embodiments of the techniques that originally shaped them.

While replicas have long been used to protect fragile artifacts made of paper, textiles, or wood, this approach represents a shift in how museums value and preserve craftsmanship.

In the past, most Chinese museums focused on visual accuracy, using techniques like plaster casting or 3D printing to reproduce an artifact’s shape and style. These methods were effective for display but often overlooked the intricate methods of the originals.

“(Craft restoration) is currently the best method for replicating artifacts,” Shi asserted. “As long as there is sufficient financial support, we are willing to pursue this path.”

Craft restoration, he explained, involves two key stages: “First, we use advanced technologies to analyze the artifact and extract as much information as possible. Then, we collaborate with skilled artisans who specialize in the traditional techniques needed for the reconstruction.”

Extracting information from original artifacts is often complex and requires advanced tools. For example, the Shanghai Museum recently studied a Yuan dynasty (1279–1368) lacquerware piece with external features that were immediately apparent: five layers forming the shape of an eight-petal lotus.

But how was it made? Was it carved from a single block of wood, bent from thin strips, or assembled from smaller pieces? To find the answer, the museum used CT scanning, which revealed a “stacked ring” technique — softened wooden strips layered in alternating patterns to form the structure.

With these insights, Shi entrusted the restoration of the lacquerware to Gan Erke, a master craftsman from the eastern Anhui province. Over the course of a year, Gan gradually rebuilt the piece using the ancient techniques uncovered during the research phase.

While the lacquerware required high-tech tools to decode its complexity, the Han sword and textiles presented challenges of their own. To uncover the process behind these intricate restorations, Sixth Tone spoke with the master artisans and experts who brought these artifacts back to life, exploring the craft and techniques behind their work.

A legacy of iron

For centuries, the rivers of Longquan in Zhejiang have carried more than water. They’ve carried iron, washing down from the Qinxi Mountains into the valley below.

It was here during the Spring and Autumn Period (770–476 BC) that the master sword-maker Ou Yezi is said to have forged three legendary blades — Longyuan, Tai’e, and Gongbu — laying the foundation for a craft that has survived millennia.

Today, Longquan’s legacy rests in the hands of a dwindling number of artisans. Among them is 57-year-old Zhou Zhengwu, who comes from a sword-forging family, where both his father and uncle were blacksmiths.

Zhou has spent decades reviving the ancient techniques that once defined his hometown, determined to preserve a craft that now teeters on the edge of being forgotten.

But preserving this sword-making tradition has been no easy task. By the 1980s, much of the craft’s ancient knowledge had faded amid decades of modernization and shifting demand. Local factories turned to quicker, cheaper methods, using pre-made steel plates and mechanized production to churn out decorative blades.

These machine-made swords, designed for display rather than durability, lacked the strength and precision of their ancient counterparts. Determined to reclaim the lost techniques, Zhou spent years studying historical swords and experimenting with traditional methods, often facing failure.

His breakthrough came in 2002, when he successfully forged a blade entirely by hand — a sword he aptly named “Revival.”

So, in May 2023, when Shi Yuan approached him to recreate a Han dynasty sword for the Shanghai Museum, Zhou jumped at the chance to bring history back to life.

At the museum, Shi led Zhou into a storeroom, where the ancient weapon lay on a long table. Over a meter in length, its six-sided blade, designed for strength and balance, was weathered with rust yet still looked sharp.

For Zhou, the sight of the ancient weapon was both inspiring and daunting. Longquan has been synonymous with sword-making for millennia, but the Han sword represented a true technological leap.

Advancements in iron smelting had made Han steel swords slimmer, longer, and far tougher than their bronze predecessors. These weapons, often paired with shields, were essential to infantry, enabling swift close-range strikes and even long-range throws.

Donning white gloves, Zhou carefully measured the dimensions of the two-millennia-old blade. As he worked, a plan for its recreation began to take shape, drawing on his experience replicating five ancient swords and knives for the China Knives & Scissors & Swords Museum in Hangzhou over a decade ago.

“But if this had been 20 years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to take on this job at all,” Zhou told Sixth Tone.

For him, this wasn’t just another commission; it was a chance to test the skills he had spent decades perfecting.

The process began with raw iron, which Zhou heated until it glowed white-hot. Using a hammer and anvil, he folded and hammered the metal 32,000 times — a painstaking process to remove impurities and enhance its strength and flexibility.

Sparks flew with each strike, lighting up his workshop, where around 20 apprentices from across the country watched and learned under his guidance as the blade gradually took shape.

“When you finally craft it using the traditional method, you realize that all the idioms describing swords — like ‘cuts through iron like mud,’ ‘blade as sharp as autumn frost,’ and ‘cold gleam that chills the heart’ — are all true,” Zhou told Sixth Tone.

But Zhou had little time to admire his handiwork. As one of the few remaining traditional swordsmiths, his skills are in constant demand.

Not long after completing the Han sword, he was commissioned by the Hubei Provincial Museum to restore a bronze sword from the Spring and Autumn Period, excavated from a general’s tomb — a project that will once again test the depth of his expertise.

The fabric code

While recreating the Han sword demanded the precision of a master craftsman, restoring ancient garments from the Song and Ming dynasties was as much a test of endurance as expertise.

The challenge fell to Yu Ying, a research curator at the Shanghai Museum, and her team of nearly 20 specialists, who spent more than two years unraveling and recreating their secrets.

What seemed like simple robes was anything but. Their recreation required over 200 intricate steps, from silk selection and thread twisting to dyeing, weaving, and sewing.

According to Yu, the first step involved analyzing the fabric’s fibers, thread thickness, and weave structure using precision instruments such as microscopes. This data was then used to map millions of weave points, creating a detailed “weave pattern diagram” that corresponded exactly to the original fabric’s design.

With the pattern mapped, the Shanghai Museum turned to the Nanjing Brocade Research Institute, China’s only institution specializing in brocade. Using traditional wooden looms, technicians wove the fabric, refining their process through multiple rounds of experiments and adjustments.

Once the fabric was ready, it moved into the garment-making phase — pattern drafting, cutting, stitching, shaping, and finishing — a process spanning over two years.

“To put it simply, our process is like creating a high-end custom piece for a luxury brand,” Yu explained. “The difference is that we don’t design it ourselves; the ancient people already did that for us. But that actually makes it harder, because designers often allow for some margin of error, whereas we aim for absolute precision.”

“I can proudly say that the accuracy of our restoration reached 99%, a first for any museum in China.”

For Yu, the restoration process was as much an exercise in experimental archaeology as it was in craftsmanship. While the work demanded immense effort, it also revealed unexpected discoveries.

One such surprise came from the fabric of the Ming dynasty robe, which combined silk and cotton, interweaving protein and cellulose fibers, two materials with vastly different properties. Studying this unique blend offered Yu new insights into the complex techniques of the era.

The Song dynasty robe revealed even more intricate techniques. While the yellow body was made using a method called “double warp twist” (two warp threads twisted with one weft), the brown edges featured the nearly lost “triple warp twist” technique (three warp threads twisted together).

As the team recreated the fabric, they noticed something unexpected: the material changed over time, with the triple warp twist showing remarkable elasticity, far surpassing the double warp twist.

“Traditional silks unearthed from history often lose their elasticity over time, but the fabric we recreated retained its flexibility,” Yu explained. “This gave us new insights into Chinese silk craftsmanship and its potential applications. However, we still don’t fully understand why it has such elasticity. We’re planning further experiments to determine whether this is due to the weaving technique or the structural composition of the fabric.”

While most visitors to the exhibit are unlikely to notice the intricate details behind the two replicas, for researchers, the process of recreating them was invaluable.

“Our craft restoration is akin to the ancient practice of emulating calligraphy or paintings,” said Yu. “Just as Ming dynasty scholars would emulate Song dynasty calligraphy, we aim to capture the spirit and charm of the original work, as well as the vitality of those recreating it. This isn’t just mechanical reproduction — it’s an act of preservation and continuation.”

This fall, the Shanghai Museum East unveiled its “Jiangnan Craftsmanship Hall,” a tribute to the artistry of the past and today’s artisans.

At its heart are four remarkable recreations: Zhou Zhengwu’s Han sword, Gan Erke’s lacquerware, and the Song and Ming dynasty garments woven by the Nanjing Brocade Research Institute.

Interactive touchscreen displays accompany these pieces, offering visitors a glimpse into the painstaking processes that brought them to life.

“I hope these exhibits, and the stories behind them, will help visitors appreciate the ingenuity of ancient craftsmanship,” Shi Yuan said. “At the very least, I hope they won’t dismiss these works simply because they carry the label ‘replica.’”

Editor: Apurva.

(Header image: Zhou Zhengwu polishes a newly forged sword, Longquan, Zhejiang province, September 2024. Wu Huiyuan/Sixth Tone)