My Interest in Chinese Porcelain

An Afternoon at Sotheby’s, London

It all began with a lecture I attended some years ago—a modest introduction that unexpectedly set me on a winding path through the history of Chinese porcelain. I found myself wandering a labyrinth of dynasties and remote corners of China, struggling in particular with names that seemed almost impossible to pronounce or remember.

‍ ‍ Chinese Famille Verte Vase, Qing dynasty (detail)

Yet amid this confusion, the extraordinary beauty of the objects in the slides captivated me, igniting a desire to know them more deeply. From that moment, I realised that this pursuit would demand patience, meticulous attention, and a devotion measured not in hours but in quiet, persistent labour.

With a map of China spread before me, I traced the geography of the region, locating its most renowned kilns. I practised the dynasties’ names until they sounded almost familiar. All the while, I studied the porcelain itself — examining images in books, peering through magnifying lenses, striving to absorb the subtlety of form, the poetry of glaze, the language of design. Hours passed in careful scrutiny, leaving me exhausted yet unbowed, compelled by a fascination that refused to relent.

‍ ‍ Moon flasks in Famille Rose, Qing dynasty, from the Sir Percival David Collection, British Museum, London

The journey soon carried me to London, to the British Museum, where I wandered through Room 33, dedicated to Chinese art, and Room 95, home to the Sir Percival David Collection — the finest assembly of Chinese porcelain outside China. Encased in glass, the objects seemed suspended in time, each one exquisite in form, colour, and design, yet tantalisingly beyond reach.

Still, I felt my path demanded more: the intimacy of touch, the rare understanding that comes only from holding an object in one’s own hands. At Sotheby’s, I said to the courteous attendant, “Please, this one,” and she unlocked the case, placing into my hands a delicate sky-blue Ming dynasty bowl.

In that instant, all prior study — the maps, the dynasties, the hours of observation — culminated in a single, extraordinary experience. Light as a feather, thin as paper, perfect in its gentle roundness, it seemed to invite my hands to cradle it, tracing with reverent fingertips its subtle undulations. When I returned it to the case, it felt almost as though I were leaving a friend behind.

Fine Chinese Export Porcelain, Sotheby’s Catalogue

The next morning, curiosity drew me back to Sotheby’s to attend the auction. The little bowl, radiant in its monochrome glaze, sold for ten times its initial estimate. Perhaps one day it will return to China. Yet for me, the true value had already been realized — not in price, but in the singular joy of touching, seeing, and understanding a fragment of history that, for a few fleeting moments, was entirely within my grasp.

In the end, it is not merely the objects themselves, nor their rarity or market value, that linger in memory, but the intimacy of discovery — the quiet moments in which history, beauty, and human curiosity converge, leaving one quietly transformed.

Embark on a journey with my Books in English