Bruce Lee: Memory, Philosophy and the Tao of Gung Fu

Posted on 23 Novembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Bruce Lee with his favorite onscreen weapon.

***I am off visiting family over the holiday weekend, so we are headed back to the archives. Since our (American) readers have just celebrated Thanksgiving, I though it would be appropriate to revisit an essay that asks what we should be grateful for as martial artists and students of martial arts studies. Spoiler alert, the answer is Bruce Lee.***

Introduction: Bruce Lee at 75

Yesterday I celebrated Thanksgiving with my family. As is customary on this day of remembrance I took a few moments to think about the last year and review the many things that I had to be grateful for. The year has been an eventful one.

In the professional realm I had a book published on the social history of the southern Chinese martial arts. I also delivered a keynote address at the first annual martial arts studies conference in the UK and, just recently, saw the publication of the first issue of our new journal on that same topic. I have had opportunities to meet and share my interests with all sorts of fascinating people from all over the world, and have started a number of other projects that should be bearing fruit months and years down the road. As the old Chinese saying goes, a wise man thinks of the source of the water that he drinks, and as I did so it occurred to me that I owe a profound debt of gratitude to Bruce Lee.

Today is the 75th anniversary of Lee’s birth in San Francisco. Born in California and raised in Hong Kong before returning to the West Coast at the end of the 1950s, Lee had a profound effect on the worlds of film, popular culture and the martial arts. While many claims about his career are exaggerated (one should treat with a certain degree of suspicion any assertion that someone was the “first” to do anything) there can be no doubt as to his ultimate impact on the public perception of the martial arts in America, as well as their rapid spread and popularization in the post-1970 era.

For anyone wondering what the point of Kung Fu was, Lee had a very specific answer. It combined a laser like focus on the problems of practical self-defense with a need to find personal and philosophical meaning in practice.

Like others who came before him, Lee argued that the martial arts were ultimately a means of self-creation. Yet drawing on the counter-cultural currents of the time he freed this discourse from the ideological chains that had linked such quests with ethno-nationalist projects for much of the 20th century. He instead placed the individual student at the center of the process. For Lee the martial arts went beyond the normal paradigms of personal security and self improvement and became a means of self actualization.

His own image on the silver screen promised that through these disciplines and their philosophies one could craft a “new self,” one that was fully fit for the challenges of an age of global competition and strife. It was promised that this “new self” would grow out of the process of self expression which the martial arts facilitated. Of course one had to first understand the true nature of these systems to free oneself from their stultifying structures. Individuals might agree or disagree (sometimes violently) with Lee’s assertions, but its hard to underestimate the impact that he had on the ways in which the martial arts are discussed in the West today.

Does this mean that in the absence of Bruce Lee I would not have written my book, or that we would not currently be reading a blog about martial arts studies? Ultimately those sorts of counterfactuals are impossible to answer, and they may cause more confusion than light. Japanese teachers had been promoting their arts in the West since the dawn of the 20th century. Sophia Delza knew nothing of Bruce Lee when she introduced Wu style Taijiquan to New York City. And the Korean government’s heavy support and promotion of Taekwondo had more to do with their own post-colonial struggles with the memory of the Japanese occupation than anything that came out of China.

I suspect that even in a world in which Lee had never existed the martial arts would still have found a respectable foothold in the West. A demand for these systems existed as part of larger cultural trends following WWII, Korea and the Vietnam War. Lee’s genius lay in his ability to understand and speak powerfully to the historical moment that existed.

Following his own advice he bent with the flow of history rather than fighting against it. Certainly some things would remain the same. That seems to follow from the structural nature of 20th century modernization and globalization. Ultimately our theories about the history of the martial arts are very much stories about these two forces (among others).

Yet would I be a student of Wing Chun, a somewhat obscure fighting system from the Pearl River delta region, without Bruce Lee’s rise to fame? Would I have had an opportunity to convince a university press to publish a book whose central historical case was built around a detailed, multi-chapter, biography of Ip Man, Bruce Lee’s teacher? And what of those individuals who study the martial arts? Would this body be as diverse (and sometimes radical) in the absence of Lee’s striking ability to speak to African and Latin-American martial artists (as well as many women and Asians) in the volatile 1970s?

Anthropological studies of the martial arts and social marginality remind us that people who are the most attracted to messages of resistance and individual empowerment are precisely those who have also been disempowered by the dominant social systems of the day. While the globalization of the East Asian martial arts would have come in one guise or another, its clear that I do have a lot to be grateful for when thinking about Lee’s contributions as a film maker, teacher and popularizer of the Chinese martial arts.

Birthdays are also important times for looking to the future. There can be no doubt that Lee’s image has retained a remarkable grip on the public imagination. Decades after his death he still frequently appears on magazine covers and in video games. Books bearing his name (either as an author or in their title) are found in every bookstore with a martial arts section. And Lee’s impact on the realm of martial art films can still be detected with ease. Countless allusions to his more iconic fight sequences can be seen on both the big and small screen. Ninjas may come and go, but even in the age of MMA it seems that Bruce will always have a home on the cover of Black Beltmagazine.

Still, one wonders if we are not starting to see changes in some aspects of how Lee is remembered and discussed. AMC recently aired a new series titled “Into the Badlands.” I have been following the advertising efforts around this project with great interest. The show’s creators have prided themselves in their extensive use of the martial arts. In fact, much of their advertising copy focuses on the fact that they are bringing “real” martial arts to the American small screen for the first time. Of course to make this claim with a straight face it is first necessary to seriously downplay, explain away or “forget” quite a bit of equally revolutionary TV that has come before, from Bruce Lee in the Green Hornet to Chuck Norris in Walker Texas Ranger.

A lot of discussion has also focused on Daniel Wu, the lead actor of this project. The show’s promoters have discussed the supposedly revolutionary nature of his role and the many ways in which he is changing the portrayal of Asian males in the entertainment industry. Yet if one drills down into this rhetoric very far what quickly becomes apparent is that Wu is seen as revolutionary in many of the exact same ways that Lee was seen as exceptional in his own era. The one real difference that stands out is that Wu’s character has the potential to develop a truly romantic story-line, where as this was something that was usually not seen with Lee’s films.

While the blame for this is often put on Hollywood (and there is no doubt that much of that is justified) one must also remember that Lee’s heroes came out of a genera of Cantonese storytelling and filmmaking in which romantic and martial leads tended to be somewhat segregated for important cultural reasons (see Avron Bortez for an extensive discussion of the construction of masculinity in the world of Kung Fu). While I applaud Wu for being able to pursue the sorts of roles that he finds interesting, I worry that his revolution is simultaneously erasing some of the traditional conventions of Chinese film and literature rather than challenging Western audiences with something unfamiliar. This is essentially the same discussion of hybrid borrowing vs. hegemony that seems to emerge in so many discussions of the globalization of popular culture. But whatever the ultimate resolution to this debate, it seems that there is an effort on the part of certain advertisers to retool and downplay Bruce Lee’s achievements in an effort to create a new moment of “revolution” in the current era.

Readers interested in looking at this specific discussion can see a number of the links that were included both in the most recent news update and on the Facebook group (in particular the Slate article titled “Daniel Wu is the Asian Action Hero that Bruce Lee Should have Been.”) Actually resolving the specific questions raised by all of this might take some time and far exceeds the space available in this post. Yet reviewing it led me to ask whether Bruce Lee is still the revolutionary figure that he once was. In our current moment do we still need Bruce Lee and his message of radical self-creation through the martial arts? Can he still act as a force for the popularization and spread of these fighting systems? Or is he becoming too culturally remote from modern students, readers and audiences? Is it likely that the public will remember his 100th birthday with the same enthusiasm that is greeting his 75th?

Ip Man and his best known student, Bruce Lee.

Bruce Lee and the Tao of Gung Fu

As I thought about these questions over the last couple of days I found myself turning to Lee’s unpublished “manuscript” The Tao of Gung Fu. In some respects this may seem like an odd choice. This book was never published in Lee’s lifetime, and as such most of this material had a rather limited impact on the way that people discussed either him or the martial arts in the 1970s and 1980s.

Nor is it always clear to me the degree to which this collection of chapters can be considered a true “book.” From the editor’s (John Little) description it appears that Lee abandoned the project before a complete manuscript was pulled together. A number of the early chapters were in place (they even make internal references to each other) but after that there may only have been an outline. This has been flushed out with notes, drawings and other pieces that Lee wrote over the years. Some pieces are in a more finished state than others, but none of it was ever intended to be made public during Lee’s life. In fact, it must be remembered that he made the rather conscious decision to walk away from the project. As such we can only speculate as to what would have made it into the final version had Bruce decided to actually pursue publication.

One of the things that bothers me about this particular book, as it was posthumously published by Tuttle and the Lee estate, is that it attempts to seamlessly weave this mass of material together into a coherent whole rather than letting the individual pieces, written over a range of years, stand on their own. Nor does it attempt to label what the original documentary sources of the various “chapters” actually were and how they fit into the larger body of Lee’s papers.

Obviously this is an annoyance for other historians working on Lee. And it is especially problematic when one realizes that a number of these essays were originally composed as papers for Lee’s classes at the University of Washington. While clearly bright and interested in philosophy (as well as its application to the martial arts) Lee is the sort of student who likely gave his teachers heart burn. As multiple other scholars (including John Little and James Bishop) have pointed out, Lee was guilty of plagiarizing a number of passages and key ideas throughout these essays.

In a few cases he simply borrowed text while dropping the quotes and footnotes, while in others he followed his sources much too closely (a problem known as “patchwriting”). In a number of other cases he appropriates ideas or insights without proper citation, or plays fast and loose with his sources. For a student of philosophy a surprising number of very detailed arguments are simply attributed to “Taoism” with no further support.

Worst of all, some of Lee’s best known personal stories, such as his exchange with his teacher Ip Man about the problem of relaxation, turn out to have been lifted from other sources (in that particular case the important popularizer of Zen, Allen Watts who had a striking similar exchange with his Judo teacher). James Bishop seems to be the best source currently available on the extent of Lee’s plagiarism and the sources that he was actually drawing on. Of course Lee never intended that these essays be published, let alone to be printed on t-shirts.

Given this list of problems and cautions, one might wonder why I would even discuss such a book. Simply put, the Tao of Gung Fu is a critical work not because the material in it is in any way original, but because it does a great job of clarifying the issues that were being discussed among a certain type of Chinese martial artist at a specific moment in time, and the sorts of sources that they had available to them (both in terms of technical manuals, but also cultural and philosophical resources) to make sense of all of it. While fans might be crushed by some of the instances of Lee’s patchwriting and plagiarism (which varied from unintentional to egregious) the transparent nature of these problems is actually a great blessing to cultural historians and students of martial arts studies.

Lee often starts by outlining questions that a wide variety of readers in his era would have found interesting, and with only a few minutes of googling you can figure out exactly what resources a young, somewhat educated martial artist would have had access to in both the Chinese and English language literatures. In short, for anyone interested in the specific steps by which the Chinese martial arts were culturally appropriated by the West, this book is a remarkable resource.

If you want to better acquaint yourself with the sources of Lee’s philosophy on the martial arts, this is the book that I would recommend. And for Wing Chun students it has the additional bonus of providing critical insight into how (at least some) individuals were discussing that system during the late 1950s and 1960s.

What then is the ultimate root of Lee’s philosophy of the martial arts? What ideas did he turn to in order to both make sense of these fighting traditions and to provide them with increased social meaning (and status) against the backdrop of Chinese culture and thought?

The Tao of Gung Fu provides an embarrassment of riches on these sorts of questions. Students of Wing Chun will likely find Lee’s discussions of Chi Sao (some of which is quite philosophical) to be the most interesting. And readers of history will no doubt want to pay close attention to Lee’s understanding of the subject as discussed in the book’s closing chapters.

Yet perhaps one of the most important themes in Lee’s thinking is set down in the very first chapter before being expanded upon throughout the rest of the manuscript. Here we see Lee outlining a three step process (one that he attributes to Daoism) in which something progresses from 1) the “primitive” stage 2) the stage of “art” 3) the stage of “artlessness.”

Most often this progression is applied to the martial arts themselves. Lee sees in this pattern the meta-history of the Chinese martial arts as a whole. They progressed from a simple, but natural, system to a more sophisticated but stultifying understanding. Finally, after years of hard work Chinese martial artists practiced, experimented and realized what non-essential material could be stripped away, leaving a set of systems what was both sophisticated but once again natural in its execution.

In other places Lee appears to apply this same process to the life history of individual styles. It can also be viewed as the stages that any given martial artist must progress through. In fact, Lee’s iconic “Liberate Yourself from Classical Karate” article is premised on this idea, as well as Lee’s contention that most Western martial artists at the time were stuck in stage two.

Yet Lee’s use of this basic framework extended far beyond the martial arts. At times he seems to have seen it as a more general lens by which we could examine the struggle of humans with both the natural and social worlds. Note for instance that Lee attempts to explain this teleology to his readers by using it as an explanation of the evolution of Chinese grammar between the classical and modern periods. And grasping its logic seems to be a precondition for the introduction of his later discussion of the nature of Yin and Yang in both the martial arts and Asian philosophy.

Given the centrality of this idea to Lee’s thought, it might be useful to ask where it originates. Lee himself claims that the idea is indigenous to Daoism and, at other points, Zen. This later claim may be bolstered by the observation of some Japanese stylists that their own systems suggest a similar progressive understanding of katas (or forms) in three progressive stages.

At the same time it must be remembered that Lee was a philosophy student when much of this material was written, and the resonances with some of the western thinkers he would have been introduced to is noteworthy. The system Lee is proposing seems to be somewhat in debt to Hegel and his progression from “thesis,” to “anti-thesis” and ultimately “synthesis.” We have already seen that Lee was very familiar with the works of Allen Watts, and its possible that this idea may have found its genesis in his writings. Indeed, this might be why Lee sometimes claims that he was outlining a “Zen” theory of progress.

While I suspect that this element of Lee’s thought reflects his study of Western writers and sources, once established it is the sort of thing that you can begin to see everywhere. We know, for instance, that Lee was influenced by the ideas of the mystic and writer Krishnamurti. While I have yet to find an exact statement of this idea in his writings, once it has been established in your mind it’s the sort of thing that will find easy parallels and support in some of Krishnamurti’s statements. Much the same goes for the Dao De Jing. I suspect that this theory of “becoming” struck Lee with such force, and became a cornerstone of his thought in this period, precisely because it seemed to find support in so many sources. The ease with which both Eastern and Western (and possibly even Marxist) sources could be used to illustrate aspects of this theory must have made it seem both universal and self-evident.

I suspect that this idea was also critical to Lee because while it facilitated a rejection of stultifying forms, it also argued that these things could only be overcome through study, experimentation and exhaustive practice. When we look at Lee’s workouts in this period (also provided by John Little) we see that Lee was drilling himself in basic techniques at the same time that he was advocating empirical verification and freedom from pointless tradition. There has always appeared to be a fundamental tension here, between what is necessary to learn a technique, and the desire to transcend it in the search of something more natural or personal. This three step teleology spoke directly to that dilemma, and claimed that the way forward was not a return to a primitive state that rejected scientific advances, but rather through a long and arduous process of additional practice, refinement and (most importantly) experimentation.

Bruce Lee sketching on the set for Game of Death. Photograph: Bruce Lee Estate. Source: The Guardian.

Conclusion: Walking On

While interesting on a technical level, its also important to think about the social implications of all of this. The claim that the only true knowledge which is possible is self-knowledge, gained through extensive practice and experimentation, is most likely to be attractive to individuals who feel themselves to be alienated from other sources of social power or meaning. Indeed, the basic ideas about self-actualization that Lee draws on have their origins in China’s martial arts sub-cultures which often acted as an alternate means of self-creation for marginal individuals within Chinese society.

As I have argued at length elsewhere, this would have been the context in which Lee first saw the martial arts being taught in Ip Man’s school to a generation of often angry, surprisingly alienated, young men in the Hong Kong of the 1950s. Lee’s contribution was to take this basic pattern and to combine it with the philosophical and counterculture currents of his own day in such a way that westerners could access this same technology of self-creation.

The 1970s, when the Chinese martial arts first exploded into popular consciousness, was a volatile decade. Globalization in trade markets was causing economic pain and increased income inequality at home at the same time that some western nations faced both security challenges and open conflict abroad. Nor did the gains of the civil rights movement in the US ensure the spread of racial harmony. Everywhere one looked traditional social institutions seemed to be under attack and society was struggling to produce new ways of understanding and coping with these challenges. Given these structural factors, it is not surprising that Lee’s onscreen presence and martial arts philosophy (to the extent that it was known at the time) had a profound effect on a generation of seekers looking for a new set of tools in their quest for self-production.

In many respects we seem to be entering a similar era. Clearly the situation today is not identical. The Cold War is gone, and an information and service based economy has replaced the manufacturing one (at least in the West). Yet many of the more fundamental concerns remain the same. Economic insecurity, militarism abroad and social conflict at home are once again challenging basic notions of what our nations stand for. Levels of public trust in a wide range of institutions has reached an all time low, and social organizations that once supported vibrant communities in past eras are struggling to survive.

Indeed, many of these factors are directly challenging the economic health and social relevance of the traditional martial arts today. Yet where large schools might falter one wonder’s if we are not seeing a renewed opportunity for the expansion of Lee’s ethos of individual struggle, experimentation and practice. If nothing else the recent discussion of Daniel Wu by the advertisers at AMC could be seen as evidence that there is a hunger for the renewal (and expansion) of the sort of revolution that Lee originally introduced to the West in the 1970s.

As the needs of students and audiences change I fully expect that the ways in which we see Bruce Lee will continue to evolve. That is the sign of a healthy discourse, and it suggests that Lee might be just as important for understanding the current situation within the martial arts community as its mid-twentieth century history. Given the cultural moment that we now find ourselves in, Lee’s promise of self-creation and his basic philosophy seem more important than ever. And as long as his achievements continue to be the yardstick by which each new “revolution” in the martial arts is measured, it seems likely that the memory of the Little Dragon will indeed live to see its 100th Birthday.

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If you enjoyed this post you might also want to read: Two Encounters with Bruce Lee: Finding Reality in the Life of the Little Dragon

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Research Notes: Judo’s Triple Transformation in The China Press (1932)

Posted on 19 Novembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

“London Sees Thrills Of Japanese Sport.” A self-defense demonstration by a female martial artist, choreographed to as to be humorous for the audience. Vintage Newsreel. 1932.

Doing the Homework

Students of Martial Arts Studies are the fortunate few. As research areas go, ours is pretty interesting. Yet as I review the literature (even recent publications from big name academic presses), it is clear that many of us are not making the most of our good fortune. There seems to be a tendency to approach the literature in narrow slices and not to look for the sorts of insights that are frequently turned up in broader, more comparative, explorations. The pie can be sliced in a variety of ways. Students of Japanese martial studies rarely deal with concepts and theories laid out in works on the Chinese styles. The literatures on combat sports and traditional arts often seem to run on parallel tracks. And there is always room for a more substantive engagement between the theoretical and historical wings of the literature.

So here is my pre-Thanksgiving public service announcement: When offered pie, always eat more than one slice. Bringing multiple lens to an investigation leads to more insightful conclusions. Beyond that, it makes the process of doing research richer and more intellectually fulfilling.

Still, we all have blind spots. As I was reviewing folders of research materials, it occurred to me that I may have created the mistaken impression that the English language treaty port newspapers in cities like Shanghai or Beijing only discussed Chinese fighting systems. Over the last few years we have examined dozens of articles in which Chinese hand combat systems were presented to a global audience during the 1920s and 1930s. Doing so is helpful as it problematizes the often-heard trope that the Chinese martial arts were unknown to Westerners prior to the 1960s, or that everything about these arts has been shrouded in impenetrable secrecy. In fact, both KMT officers and private instructors worked (with mixed success) to publicize China’s reformed and modernized physical culture as a way of demonstrating to the world the reformed and modernized nature of the Chinese state.

Focusing on these conversations has been valuable. Yet it must be remembered that all of this was only one aspect of a much larger exploration of the martial arts and combat sports which one could find in these same newspapers. While it is easy to focus only on the guoshu or taijiquan articles, in truth these pieces need to be read in conjunction with the frequent discussions of the Japanese martial arts, accounts of vaudeville style strongmen acts, and articles on western style boxing events which also appeared in the same pages. It is all too easy to inadvertently create a siloed vision of cultural history in which boxing, kung fu and judo all existed in their own isolated spheres. In truth they all competed for exposure within the pages of China’s treaty port press.

In an effort to correct this bias I would like to introduce one of the more interesting Republic era articles on the Japanese martial arts that I have come across. Judo is frequently mentioned in these pieces. We can even find several glowing accounts of judo exhibitions in Shanghai in this era. Likewise, Chinese martial arts reformers often turned to judo as a symbolic foil for their rivalry with Japan. The following article, on the other hand, is interesting as the Japanese origins of judo have been almost totally erased. Indeed, the Western appropriation of judo as a means of self-defense is so complete that the Japanese are barely mentioned, while cities like New York and Paris are looked to as centers of martial excellence.

Nor is this the only transformation which readers will detect. While Kano Jigoro opened his practice to women fairly early, the vast majority of Japanese judo students in the 1930s were men. Indeed, these were men often bound for service in the Japanese military. They had well developed ideas about cultivating a certain sort of masculinity which would be placed in the service of the state. In contrast, the current article goes to great lengths to present judo as an exclusively female practice. More specifically, it was framed as a tool of urban self-defense and a bulwark against a new “masher” panic. The dojo as a training space, white uniforms, colored belts and other aspects of Kano’s now globally famous practice are totally missing from this discussion. Instead we find a slightly updated take on the pre-war American usage of “jiu-jitsu” to basically signify “dirty fighting.”

All of this is even more interesting as one suspects that these were not errors emerging from ignorance. By the early 1930s judo was a well-established practice in the West. It had been featured in newsreels, books and extensively debated in the sporting press. Just to give us the proper perspective, the current article “introducing” judo was written more than 30 years after Theodore Roosevelt had famously promoted the same practice from his residence in the White House. Well educated Chinese and Western readers living in Shanghai (The China Press’core audience) had ample opportunities to see Japanese demonstration teams as they visited the city on a regular basis. Indeed, the Japanese invasions of Manchuria (1931) and Shanghai (1932) had sparked renewed public debate as to the role of physical education in a state’s battlefield success.

I suspect that this article never dropped Kano’s name, or mentioned black belts, as there was simply no need. All of that was already part of the public consciousness during the 1930s. It instead focused on the topic of women’s self-defense as that was both timely (note the repeated references to Vivian Gordon’s murder in New York City), and front-page images of petite women throwing men around like rag dolls was sure to sell papers.

It is important to take note of a few other topics that are missing from this article as well. To begin with, The China Presswas a pro-KMT newspaper with a liberal editorial line. It ran more (glowing) stories about the guoshu, and China’s martial practices more generally, than any other Republican era paper that I have studied. Its editors never missed an opportunity to note that China was the true home of jiu jitsu, or to publicize the latest Jingwu demonstration. It is thus remarkable that there is no mention of the Chinese martial arts anywhere in this piece.

While the photographs and writing style suggests that this may have originally been a newswire article intended for an American audience, I doubt that this is the entire story. Given the levels of outrage directed at the Japanese in 1931 and 1932, it probably would have been impossible to run an article that lauded any practice with Japanese roots in such a “patriotic” paper. Yet by completely erasing Japanese culture and martial values from the discussion of judo, effectively transforming the art into a primarily female, and Western practice, the editors may have gotten the best of all possible worlds. On the one hand they could run a sensational front-page article that would sell lots of papers. At the same time, they could appropriate an important marker of Japanese masculinity and militarism, presenting it as a cosmopolitan and almost exclusively feminine practice. One can only guess how thrilled the Japanese military officers and government staff in Shanghai were to see this treatment of their national art.

Still, this was by no means a negative portrayal of the art. One of the things that struck me as I read this piece was the extensive “how to” section at the end. Such discussions are so common in Western martial arts conversations that they are easy to dismiss. Yet they were quite rare in the pages of China’s English language treaty port press.

While these papers ran hundreds of articles on the Chinese martial arts, I don’t think I have once seen them undertake a detailed discussion about a specific Chinese technique. Instead demonstrations or systems were discussed in general terms for the edification of the reader, but not their education. While there was some training of foreign students in martial arts classes in China in the 1930s, buy in large this didn’t seem to be something that many people (either Western or Chinese) were interested in. Yet this article clearly suggests that judo is something Western women can (and should) learn. That seems to be a frank admission that while Chu Minyi and other reformers had hoped to make the Chinese martial arts a modern and cosmopolitan practice, it was Japan that had actually succeeded. Nevertheless, we as readers are left to ask if the following vision of judo remains in any way Japanese?

Here’s “Judo”, the Newest Art of Self-Defense Against Mashers

The China Press, Feb, 3 1932. Page A1

Curious Details of the Smashing Surpise Receptions American and English Girls are Planning for “Catch-as-Catch-Can” Masculine Admirers.

“Wreck the necker!”

This warlike cry has gone up on both sides of the Atlantic since judo, an improved version of Jiu Jitsu, was perfected recently. Jiu Jitsu has always been primarily a man’s sport but judo is for women only. It enables the frailest flower of femininity to throw and knock out a burly assailant with ease and dispatch.

Women’s judo clubs are being formed in New York and other American cities. In England enthusiastic feminine exponents of the method of self-defense against the Mashers have formed a team that is touring France, Germany and other European countries, giving exhibitions of this tricky and fascinating new art of self-defense.

Slight pressure of the fingers applied at the right moment, combined with sudden twists of the body by a judo expert, often results in broken limbs for the assailant. There is no question that if judo’s popularity continues to increase at its present rate the obnoxious masher species may soon entirely disappear. Certainly nothing yet devised discourages the male flirt so quickly as a dislocated arm, or a broken head followed by several months in a jail or hospital.

Any close student of the subject will tell you how easily not only serious injury, but death, may come to the unwary roughneck who chooses to inflict his unwanted attentions upon a girl schooled in the far from gentle craft of judo. A single lightening quick arm thrust from a girl who “knows her stuff” is sufficient in most cases to discourage any masher. The young lady trained in Judo tactics may be outweighed by a hundred pounds and look as defenseless as a fawn but when she goes into action Mt. Necker had better run.

A famous Japanese wrestling champion once said that homicide committed by jiu jitsu provides “a lovely death, no pains from bullets, knives or violence, You just fade out in a pleasant dream—and don’t know that perhaps you will never wake again.” The newly-perfected science of judo is equally effective in producing lethal effects although the physical instructors who teach it are careful to exclude the death dealing holds from their curriculum.

Unlike most forms of combat, judo’s effectiveness depends ironically enough on the strength and intensity of attack of one’s opponent. The more powerful he is and or furiously he falls upon his intended victim, the more serious his injuries are going to be.

Certainly no more astonishing surprise could be imagined. Instead of screaming and shrieking the young woman who knows judo outdoes the masher at his own game. With a minimum of effort, she can throw the strongest “he-man,” laugh at his efforts to embrace her and continue on her way, unmolested and at her leisure.

The underlying principal of this science is balance. In judo it is vastly more important to control perfectly one’s posture than to have building muscles and enormous energy. Japanese physical culturalists tell us that a “man without balance has no strength.” This is particularly true in jiu jitsu and judo. The very first thing the beginner learns is to change an opponent’s posture while maintaining her own. This is done by maneuvering him to his heels and toes, which enables one to throw him with little exertion.

As a typical example of the judo science, let us take a girl weighing about 110 pounds and say a husky 190 pound man has seized her throat in both hands. Now the ordinary young woman, unschooled in judo, would naturally concentrate her efforts on attempts to tear his hands from her throat. The judo adept, however, would waste no time and strength on such a futile task.

Her technique, though simple, would be amazingly effective. Her first move would be to take a short step backwards with her left foot. This will bring the attacker’s balance to his toes, naturally weakening his equilibrium.

Next, she would quickly swing her right arm sharply across his left arm, pivoting her right toe and bringing her right shoulder forward. Her arm would pass close to her face until her right shoulder touches her chin. In that position she would exert irresistible leverage on the man’s wrist with her shoulder. This will break any grip, no matter how powerful, with the result that her assailant must fall slightly forward with face unguarded, leaving him a ready target for an elbow jolt to the face or a paralyzing cut on the back of the head.

If Vivian Gordon, the New York girl who was strangled to death in a taxi cab some time ago, had known such elementary judo moves she might have outwitted her slayer and escaped a gruesome fate.

The larger picture in the upper right half of the page shows a young woman swinging a husky male over her hip. The uninformed may well ask how this slight girl could carry a powerful man off his feet and throw him to the ground.

The answer is judo and a perfect sense of timing and balance. You will notice that the girl in the photograph is bending forward. The man had come up behind her and seized her by the throat. But she shot her head and shoulders sharply forward, throwing his weight on his toes and off balance. Seizing his shoulders, she adroitly rolled him over her hips. The picture was snapped just as she was about to throw him to the ground.

Perhaps you have seen one acrobat on the stage holding three or four partners on his shoulders. Ordinary men cannot do this, of course, because they have not studied the science of balance and timing. The acrobat has learned to distribute the weight of his companions evenly, to assume a posture that enables him to lift and hold an enormous number of pounds and to time his efforts so that his powers are never overtaxed. Strength is vital, but alone it is not enough. Until he has mastered these twin sciences his efforts at great weight-lifting will fail.

The same holds true of the judo students. The two photographs in the half center of this page demonstrate the ease with which a judo expert can disarm and knock down a stick-wielding assailant. In one picture you see her catching his arm just above the elbow. Her judo instructors have taught her that holding an arm above the shoulder greatly weakens the arm’s powers of resistance. Placing her knee behind his right leg she pushes his arm backwards until he is off balance. With this accomplished, she finds sending him backwards over her extended knee is child’s play.

Another photo on this page illustrates another effective judo maneuver that can be used when the assailant comes up behind his intended victim and seizes her by the throat. Instead of trying to wriggle from his strong grip, the girl merely grasps his elbows and bends quickly forward, catapulting him over her head and shoulders. This is called the shoulder throw.

Brutal attackers often use the chancery hold, which consists of encircling the victim’s neck with one arm and battering her face with the other fist. Judo teaches girls how to break easily this painful hold. If the assailant has gripped her neck in his left arm and strikes her face with his right fist, she reaches quickly up his back and over his right shoulder with her right hand and places the inner edge of her finger under his nose, where there is an extraordinarily sensitive nerve center. Pressing on this diagonally towards the back of the head will quickly cause the fellow to release his grip.

The next move is to extend the pressure backwards and downwards. If at the same time the girl grips him under the knee, raising him upward and forward, the gentleman will soon be spilled upon the ground with much violence.

The photograph depicting the young woman jamming the heel of her hand against the man’s chin demonstrates the perfect counter offensive against the mashers who sieze women about the waist. You can be sure when the roughneck caress is returned in this manner the likelihood of a repetition of the Casanova tactics is very small.

Possibly the most spectacular of the group of extraordinary photographs is the one which portrays the young woman lying on the ground and kicking her surprised assailant in the stomach. In this case the girl has fallen backwards to the ground, pulling the man into a flying fall. As she fell, she drew up her foot and, on reaching the ground, she sent him sprawling over her head with a powerful and well-directed kick to his abdomen.

This startling defense should only be employed by experts who have been adequately instructed in the science of relaxing. Like football coaches, the teachers of this new art and fascinating study teach their students to go limp when falling. A limp body does not strike the ground with half the violence that a stiff one does.

When Benny Leonard was the world’s Lightweight Boxing Champion he often attributed much of his extraordinary punching powers to his knowledge of anatomy. He exactly knew what spot to hit and consequently opponents crumpled up before what seemed likely fairly light punches. A knowledge of anatomy is even more necessary to girl judo experts than it is to boxers.

The new judo vogue began by a woman who saw in it a chance to reduce the ever-growing number of fatalities and injuries suffered by girls attacked in lonely sections of towns and cities. Certainly it equips young women with an excellent defense against the cave-man tactics of roughneck admirers.

oOo

If you enjoyed this article you might also want to read: Addiction, Wellness and Martial Arts

oOo

Swords, Visuality and the Construction of China

Posted on 16 Novembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Chinese soldier photographed by Harrison Forman. While part of a series of issues distributed in 1938 captions indicate that these images were probably taken in the early 1930s. Source: The Forman Collection in the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee Digital Archives.

Deciphering an Icon

Recently I came across a few of Harrison Forman’s wartime photos, probably taken in the early 1930s, but circulated to newspapers and (re)published in 1938. While his photos of militia groups following the 8^thRoute Army (discussed here) remain less well known, these particular images have gained a quasi-iconic status. I suspect that they, and other similar images, helped to define popular Western notions of China’s struggle during the late 1930s. This also makes them of interest to students of Martial Arts Studies as they prominently feature swords and what appears to be a display of China’s traditional military culture.

Still, as I reviewed these photos I found myself wondering what was really going. Were these images actually taken in the field? Or were they composed by Forman himself? And if latter, how were such images of martial masculinity meant to be read? Why do so many of Forman’s photographs, as well as other images from the period, go to such great lengths juxtaposing the coexistence of “modern” military weapons with “traditional” martial culture, squeezing both elements into ever more complex symbolic frames? Lastly, what does this suggest about the ways in which the Republic era revival of the martial arts was used to shape China’s image on the global stage?

To fully answer these questions, we may need to compare Forman’s photos to some less well-known images of Chinese soliders collected and distributed in the late Qing and early Republic period. Doing so suggests the existence of certain key symbols which quickly gained a remarkable degree of stability in the popular imagination. Yet while the image of a Chinese soldier or martial artists holding an oversized blade has been stable, its social meaning has varied greatly. Many players, both within and outside of China, have deconstructed and contested these images. Controlling the visuality of the martial arts has been a key tool in a series of debates about the nature of the Chinese state and nation. A few of the ideas of the theorist Rey Chow may help to launch this investigation.

The Eternal Swordsman

Few images within the Chinese martial arts have proved more durable than the traditionally trained swordsman openly practicing his trade in the age of the gun. He can be seen everywhere, from Japanese postcards to Hong Kong kung fu films. But what sort of “person” is this individual?

Thomas Taylor Meadows, a British officer stationed in China during the Taiping Rebellion, was among the first to reflect on this question as he observed numerous skirmishes and battles. In one section of his best-known work, The Chinese and Their Rebellions, he sought to rebut the commonly held Western beliefs that 1) all Chinese individuals have similar personalities 2) that as a group they are more cowardly than Europeans and shied away from combat.

In an attempt to negate both views he relates to his readers a curious incident of “War Dancing” (what we would term the performance of a solo martial arts set) in the middle of a fire fight which he observed as both rebel troops (who held the city) and imperial soldiers contested control of a graveyard outside of Shanghai. Meadows set the scene by describing the artillery and armaments of both sides. By this point in the war both parties were armed primarily with Western cannons, state of the art European made muskets and a surprising number of revolvers. He described the order of battle as being similar to that seen in the Crimean War with heavy volleys of fire being exchanged between groups of soldiers who were either sheltered behind the city’s walls, or moving between “rifle pits” and the sorts of cover that the graveyard landscape afforded. All of this was very similar to what one might have observed in a European conflict of the time.

Yet similar should never be confused with identical. While playing no part in the actual siege, Meadows notes that “cold weapons” were evident on the battlefield. One Imperial spearman, having nothing to contribute to an exchange of gun fire, took shelter behind a building with Meadows and other Chinese onlookers. Another soldier, armed with a sword and rattan shield, approached the battle differently. He walked out into an open area (where a companion was firing a musket at rebel forces) and proceeded to demonstrate his sword set, all while shouting insults at the enemy, slashing at imaginary opponents and tumbling over his shield.

On a substantive level he contributed little to the battle. Indeed, one suspects that most such skirmishes were actually decided by the artillery. Nor was this individual the lone exception. Meadows told his story because he believed it would convey something about the nature of the conflict to his readers back in the UK. Very similar reports were also lodged by British soldiers involved in the First and Second Opium Wars in Southern China, and much later by units participating in the costly march on Beijing during the Boxer Rebellion. It is an often overlooked fact that by 1900 the Imperial Chinese troops had weapons just as advanced as any of the Western nations that came to save the Legation. Yet battlefield martial arts displays, usually attributed to “possessed Boxers,” remained fairly common. All of this seems to bear an uncanny resemblance to Forman’s much later photograph.

Accounts such as these are why so many Westerners became obsessed with the image of the sword wielding Chinese boxer, soldier or pirate. The basic image might be labeled in a variety of ways. Yet in each case it seems to have invoked the same combination of fascination and disgust. It would be more difficult to think of a better example of Rey Chow’s critique of “visualism,” in which modernity functions by reducing people or ideas into two dimensional depictions, than the early 20^thcentury explosion of photographs of Chinese men wielding swords.

Such images facilitated the mental, and then political, classification of China, justifying its imperial occupation. A close reading suggests that many of these classifications rest on seeming contradictions. While focusing on men, their subjects are emasculated through an association with obsolete technology, poverty or backwards superstitions. Chinese territory is potentially dangerous, yet in need of Western protection and guidance. And when modern weapons occur in an image, rather than focusing our attention on the breakneck speed of social change, the existence of traditional tools subconsciously reinforces the notion that China is somehow eternal. A land without history can never change. It is a country without a future.

Late Qing portrait of the Changtu Prefect and his personal guard. Photographer unknown (at least by me).

Such notions would likely have been projected onto this image by early 20^thcentury Western viewers as well. Once again, notice the prominent juxtaposition of modern (Western) weapons with their traditional (Chinese) counterparts. Judging from the legible inscriptions in this photograph, Douglas Wile has concluded that it is a portrait of the Prefect of Changtu (now part of Liaoning Province) and his personal guard. Obviously, such an image would have been taken prior to the 1911 revolution.

At that time the long Mauser rifles with WWI era “roller-coaster” sights seen in this photo would have been state of the art. And having a couple of guys with halberds standing at a door or gate would also have made a lot of sense. Yet one suspects that rather than a well-armed bodyguard, post-Boxer Rebellion viewers would likely have seen one more piece of evidence of a nation incapable of change. In certain quarters such images (invoking fears of beheadings for minor offenses) were taken as powerful justifications for the preservation of Western legal privileges (such as extra-territoriality) and even colonial “guardianship.” The observation and dissemination of images of the “traditional” martial arts was often coopted by the forces of imperial discourse. That is vital to remember as it strongly suggests that there was nothing inevitable about the reemergence of similar images in the post-WWII era as anchors of the post-colonial discourse. Bruce Lee probably would have played quite different to audiences in 1901.

The production and widespread dissemination of such images in the early 20^thcentury opened Chinese society to conflicting social pressures. On the one hand there was immense pressure to “modernize,” making the nation equal to the Western powers. This would mean discarding much or all of China’s traditional culture. Yet Chow has also warned her readers of another danger in these situations. As “ethnic” individuals in colonial situations grapple with the meaning of their identity, perhaps by trying to find domestic sources of pride or strength necessary to resist imperialism in their own autobiographies, they risk internalizing the dominant critique of their culture and performing an increasingly two dimensional act of what was once an authentic culture as they respond to a set of critiques that were likely based on (malicious) misunderstandings.

A vintage Japanese postcard showing images (likely taken in the late teens or twenties) of “Big Sword Units training their bravery.”

Perspective matters. And it is interesting to think about the role of both bodily experience and cultural expectations in shaping one’s perspective. Meadows wrote in an era when it was increasingly evident swords had little utility on the battlefield, but they were still very much part of Western 19^thcentury military life. By the Republican era that had changed. The Japanese situation was more complicated.

Our next image was taken from a Japanese postcard, probably produced during the 1920s, which shows Chinese soldiers, dressed in smart civilian clothing, demonstrating their sword forms. We have already read numerous accounts of demonstrations such as these (particularly those staged by General Ma), but it is interesting to see that Japanese publishers decided that there was an market for such an image at home.

The Japanese discourse towards China in the 1920s and 1930s was much more belligerent than anything seen in the West. One need not carefully analyze their literature or trade practices for hints of imperialist discourses. You only needed to watch where their armies marched or read their formal diplomatic declarations. This is not to say that their popular culture was not of immense interest. Japanese youth literature of the period tended to portray China as a land of adventure where adventurous boys could not just serve the nation, but prove their worth. And the increasing militancy of government mandated martial arts practice in Japanese schools helped to ensure that the nation’s youth would be prepared to do just that.

It goes without saying that within this internal nationalist discourse the sword (or more properly, the katana) meant something entirely different from what it signaled on the pages of the North China Herald or New York Times. While a traditional symbol, it did not denote national backwardness. Rather, it was a symbol of national identity. And it became the vessel for much more positive cultural content. It represented the notions of sacrifice, spiritual determination and individual physical strength placed in the service of the nation. It represented that aspect of primoradial Japanese identity that both made it distinct, but also well suited for global competition among its national peers.

One byproduct of mandating years of state sponsored kendo or judo training was the creation of a large number of individuals who were bound to be at least somewhat curious about Chinese martial practice. One suspects that the young men who collected these postcards may have been intrigued by images of solo-forms practice (rare in modern kendo), and the different sabers favored by the Chinese. Yet it is highly unlikely that such an image would have struck them as a symbol of national backwardness. Indeed, the Chinese soldiers in this image were dressed much more “progressively,” and in a more Western manner, than Japanese Kendo students.

Such an image, while highlighting differences in national martial practices, likely would have suggested the existence of the sort of cultural affinities that supported the logic of Japan’s desired “co-prosperity” sphere. Once again, images of the Chinese martial arts might be used to undermine notions of China’s national independence, but now for very different reasons. Rather than pointing to the backwardness of these practices, the Japanese could instead claim to be best positioned to promote their future development.

A second angle of Forman’s iconic photo, this time with an improved and more dynamic composition. Source: The Forman Collection at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee library.

All of this may be part of the answer to our initial question. Yet we still have not considered the evolving Chinese interpretation of this key image, or what they might gain from cooperating in its reproduction and global distribution. The Japanese postcard is important as it suggests that such images did not actually undermine one’s claim to modernity, or legitimacy within the nation state system, in an absolute sense. Even more important than the production of these images was how their interpretation was negotiated, destabilized, contested and claimed on the world stage. This was a project that an increasing number of Chinese reformers would turn their attention to in the 1920s and 30s, re-entering a space that had been largely dominated by outside voices since the Boxer Uprising.

Much like the Japanese architects of Budo, Chinese social reformers carefully searched their history and culture for the tools to resist imperialism. Part salvage project, and part nation building exercise, such impulses had given rise to the “self-strengthen” movement in the late 19^thcentury which saw in the martial arts strategies for resisting the West through “Yin power.” Later (in the 1920s and 30s) similar impulses would be promoted by the “national essence” and guoshu reformers.

Yet just as Chow warned, the harnessing of Yin power was first premised on the acceptance of often skewed externally inspired narratives of national weakness. It is well worth remembering that it was Chinese journalists and intellectuals who harped on the image of “the sick man of Asia”, not their counterparts in New York or London. The promotion of China’s “traditional” martial arts seemed a ready-made cure for this self-imposed cultural syndrome.

Many of China’s more liberal reformers disagreed with these prescriptions. Accepting that superstition and backwardness were at the root of China’s weakened state, the May 4^th Reformers favored a much more enthusiastic embrace of Western social, economic and cultural institution. They were inherently suspicious of attempts to save China’s future by reimagining what its past practices had been. The disastrous events of the Boxer Uprising were still too fresh in their minds to embrace Jingwu’s (or later guoshu’s) promises of a modernized and reformed martial art placed at the disposal of the nation. Chow’s work on the various strategies involved in the construction of “ethnic images” would seem to be a fruitful place to begin to untangle the debate between these two factions as to what role (if any) the martial arts should play in the creation of New China.

All of this suggests a new perspective from which to view Forman’s original photograph. KMT officials and the guoshu reformers embraced the traditional martial arts because they saw in them a chance to disrupt Western expectations about Chinese society. Yes, domestic unity and nation building were their primary goals. Yet the KMT constructed a public diplomacy campaign around guoshu (foreshadowing in significant ways the PRC’s current wushu strategy) because they perceived an opening to demonstrate-through staged spectacle and newspaper story-that China was in fact strong, courageous, and modern. Better yet, it possessed a unique culture capable of making important contributions to global discussions.

It is interesting to read Forman’s photograph within the framework of that ongoing contest of ideas. The old and new are contrasted not just within the right and left side of the frame, but even within the two halves of the swordsman’s body. In one hand he holds a dadao, China’s now iconic sword. In the other we see Mauser 88 rifle (either a Chinese produced copy or an imported German model). While it is often claimed that the dadao was issued only because the Chinese were too poor to produce modern rifles, this photo problematizes such statements.

While genetically descendent from the Mauser rifles carried by the private bodyguards seen above, it should be noted that these examples have been altered in significant ways. The barrels are shorter, carbine length, conversions and the complex WWI era sights have been replaced with something simpler and lower profile. In short, the Chinese small arms seen in this photo are more or less identical to the modified bolt action rifles then being issued by countries like Japan, Germany, the USSR and the UK. Clearly this soldier does not cling to his dadao out of sheer necessity. In this photograph it serves another purpose.

The fact that this image exists in two forms (one with two soldiers, the other with three) confirms our initial suspicions that the composition is an artificial one arranged by Forman, rather than a spontaneous display of Chinese martial culture. As such we must begin to consider how its creator meant for this image to be read by the public.

The University of Wisconsin Milwaukie archives (which holds the original version of this image) have also preserved three of the original captions that it was distributed with. Editors who bought the image through a newswire service were free to choose any of these when they ran the photo. Interestingly, each of captions reads slightly differently. The first view is the most negative, placing the sword within the symbolic realm of backwardness and superstition. In many ways it is a continuation of press traditions from the turn of the century.

Caption 1: “The ‘big sword man’ as the symbol of the warrior of traditional China. He was brave, agile, and fought his enemy hand-to-hand. He lasted into the twentieth century, gradually accepting the rifle as a weapon for modern warfare. The Japanese invasion of China in 1931 finally convinced the Chinese to discard the outmoded ‘big sword,’ even as a secondary weapon as here shown in the invasion of Manchuria.”

These observations notwithstanding, the dadao remained common throughout WWII. Produced in large numbers by innumerable small shops, they were issued both to second line militia units as well as to fully equipped professional troops who carried them as the Chinese answer to the Japanese Katana or the British/Indian/Nepalese Kukri (a topic near and dear to my own heart). Given that American newspapers were full of headlines about China’s “big sword troops” in 1938, I am not sure how many editors would have decided to run this caption.

The second possibility reads as follows: “’The Spirit of Ancient China.’ Big Swordmen -great hand-to-hand fighters, in the old traditional manner – with a modernly equipped trooper of Chiang Kai-shek’s famed 88^thDivision. (Photographed in North Station).”

This caption is interesting as it begins the process of presenting the dadao to the Western reader in a “spiritualized” fashion. Yet it is still fit within the Western motif of romanticism for “vanishing China.” Regardless, it is difficult to accept that this individual is fully representative of that past as he too carries a rifle identical to that possessed by the “modernly equipped trooper.”

Finally, the third and most interesting caption reads: “The Spirit of Ancient China! – The fellow with the big sword. In the crook of his arm is modern China – the trooper with the steel helmet and modern rifle. Together they oppose Japan.”

Here we begin to see what Forman may have intended with the curious composition of this photograph. Rather than invoking the historical memory of accounts like that by Meadows, his meaning was more symbolic. One soldier, representing the national essence, spread a protective arm (holding a highly symbolic weapon) over the head of his comrade busily taking aim at an (imaginary) opponent. This photography was never intended to be a historical, let alone an ethnographic, document. Rather it was a symbolic argument about the relationship between the Chinese nation and the state. In the great debate over the shape of “New China,” Forman was making clear his sympathies with the national essence position.

Soldiers demonstrating a dada set before a crowd celebrating the donation swords and helmets to the war effort.

Conclusion

This global rehabilitation of the Chinese sword in the Republic era suggest that the government’s “Kung Fu diplomacy” efforts paid off. Once a symbol of backwardness within an imperialist discourse, by 1938 it was at least possible to see a sword wielding soldier as a symbol of national strength. Of course Westerners were also fascinated with the Japanese katana, and that seems to have provided a mental map for bringing the dadao back into the political lexicon.

The fact that three possible captions were circulated with this iconic image is an important reminder that symbols are never self-interpreting. Each image holds many possible meanings, some of which overlap, while others may even contradict. While the Chinese swordsman has proved to be surprisingly resilient, his meaning has been far from stable. Various political and social reformers (not to mention martial artists) have attempted to destabilize, contest and renegotiate this figure. While the reproduction of “ethnic images” was conserved, the political implications that they have carried over the 20^thcentury has varied drastically.

Likewise, the meaning, values and goals of the martial arts are not set in stone. While certain bodily techniques may be stable over a period of 100 years or more, their social function and meaning has changed. They too have been subject to successive rounds of destabilization, negotiation and interpretation. If surveyed over a period of one or two centuries, a wide variety of period practitioners would likely agree on the appearance of the Chinese martial arts, but would hotly debate their meaning or purpose. Chow’s theories of ethnicity and visuality suggest some of the reasons why that would likely be the case.

oOo

If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Yim Wing Chun and the “Primitive Passions” of Southern Kung Fu

oOo

The Last Shall be First: Finding Meaning in the Martial Arts

Posted on 12 Novembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

A foreign martial arts teacher practices at Wudang. Source:

Barnum’s Daughter

I was recently watching the news when I saw a brief segment on “the last” Japanese swordsmith. The whole things is a little overwrought as there are lots of individuals making swords in Japan today, and (multiple) government offices in place to make sure that they will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. While alarmist, I am no longer surprised by this sort of rhetoric. For better or worse, it has become a defining feature of the modern martial arts and all of the other cultural practices that are associated with them. I usually just brush it off. Yet it can be jarring to those who have less experience with it.

By any metric Heather* is a pretty worldly individual. A Hollywood veteran and longtime producer of reality TV shows (touching on everything from home improvement to dating contests), she could only be described as a modern daughter of P. T. Barnum. She can regale one with tales of writing room misbehavior or the wholesale fabrication of budget numbers on those home renovation shows that dominate the American dream. She had recently “retired” and moved to Ithaca to take up a teaching position, and at the time of this conversation we lived in the same apartment complex.

Heather approached me on her bike as I was working through a new jian (double edged straight sword) set. “Hey, I didn’t know you were a martial artist!” she proclaimed. “That is what finally chased me out of TV.” Asking for clarification it turned out that it was not actually Wudang Jian that had done her in. Rather, she had been working on the project titled “The Last Samurai”* when she finally decided to retire. I asked her to explain, which she did at length, finally concluding

“Look, I don’t know anything about the martial arts, but I know a racket when I see one. That guy wasn’t “the last Samurai.” What does it even mean to be a “Samurai” in Japan today? And God only knows how any of this could have been significant to the poor kids we dragged over there to meet him.”

After pausing to ruminate she continued, “That was how I knew it was time to get out. Sure, the dating shows are all staged, and no one has yet pulled a dish out of the oven that actually looks like it does on the Food Network. I could do all of that. But when it came to martial arts documentaries, it was a sign. I just knew I couldn’t do this anymore. That’s when I knew it was time to do something real, and finally put my MFA to good use.”

I had never heard this part of Heather’s story before and stood there at an actual loss for words. After a career spent fabricating the budgets of home improvement shows, it was martial arts mythmaking that finally brought down a jaded Hollywood producer.

A trip to any public park in China would seem to indicate that the average of traditional martial artists is increasing. At the same time these individuals may have a greater need for strong social networks and more resources to devote to finding them.

The Last Masters

As I reflected on the recent story of the “last” Japanese swordsmith (who, I suppose, is responsible for outfitting the aforementioned “last” Samurai) it occurred to me that that these were not just any random lineage myths or poorly researched newspaper articles. Rather, they were widely shared stories that lamented or prophesized the end of the martial arts altogether. Indeed, they have acquired the status of cultural touchstones. Both practicing martial artists and the mainstream media seem to relish stories promoting some teacher, or school, as either the first or (more commonly) the last of their kind.

All sorts of practices and institutions come to an end, and yet the media rarely remarks on their passing. The martial arts are, if nothing else, survivors. While the end of the Chinese martial arts has been regularly prophesized since the end of the Ming Dynasty in the 17^thcentury, they are still going strong. Given their frequently predicted demise, on some level I think it would be appropriate to conceptualize the Asian martial arts as a community that exists in a state of perpetual revival (understood in the Religious Studies sense of the word). Yet what makes the image of the end of Kung Fu, the last Viking or the final Samurai so appealing? Where do these images get their emotional appeal, and why are they embraced with seemingly equal enthusiasm by those both within the traditional martial arts community and those who only know these practices through their mediatized image? As we unravel the puzzle of the perpetual demise of the martial arts, we may gain additional insight into the modern social functions which these practices perform.

Yang Style Taiji in Shanghai, 2005. The traditional Chinese martial arts are always forced to create a sheltered space within the larger community. Source: Wikimedia.

“Tradition” as Fetish in the Martial Arts

As we review the various historical essays within Kung Fu Tea’s archive, one might be forgiven for concluding that the Chinese martial arts are not so much a smoothly transmitted system as an assortment of stochastic discontinuities held together by the fervent belief that they ought to be (or at one point in the distant past were) a cohesive whole. I find it useful to sit back and consider how much (or rather, how little) my Wing Chun training (a product of the 1950s) has in common with either the Dadao clubs of the 1930s, or the Red Spear village militias of the 1920s. These two distinct visions of the Chinese martial arts were among the largest social movements of their day. Collectively they trained and organized many millions of people. And yet the Red Spear militias that once rules China’s northern plains seem to have had little impact on the surviving martial arts. If this is true for huge social movements that existed less than 100 years ago, how much further removed is my understanding of the Chinese martial arts from one of Qi Jiguang’s Ming era soldiers, or an ancient scholar-warrior welding a bronze sword?

Nevertheless, the threads of culture provide continuity that bridges our personal, localized or purely internal, experience of reality. It is here, rather than in embodied practice, that scholars might start their search for a more stable understanding of the Chinese martial arts. More specifically, it is within their long tradition of shared stories, literary references, venerated figures, imagined geographies and even values (though these do tend to shift from era to era) that Chinese martial culture finds (and contests) its central coherence. It is within this most basic stratum that our search must begin. And it is here that we first encounter the uniting fear of the “end” of martial practice.

Within a Confucian lineage system intergenerational transmission, whether genetic or social, is the great responsibility. Fathers must have sons to inherit the land, and in turn they must provide sacrifices to the ancestors. Knowledge, which existed in perfect clarity in the past, must be faithfully transmitted. The martial arts, understood as systems of military defense at both the local and imperial levels, was no exception. Driven by the importance of the military examination system, archery manuals became one of the most successful genres of popular literature in the late imperial period. Likewise, the act of boxing is irreducibly social. Neither teacher nor student can exist without the other.

It is thus interesting to note that within the very first stratum of existing Chinese martial arts manuals (16^thcentury) we find authors like Qi Jiguang and Yu Dayou already concerned that the nation’s hand combat practices are in decline and in need of revival. Cheng Zhongyou likewise undertook his important study of the Shaolin pole method both because he wanted to make it available to other members of the gentry seeking to train village militias, but also because he was worried that their “original” method would be lost in a deluge of second-rate imitators. Already within the oldest stratum of printed (sometimes commercially distributed) works on the Chinese martial arts, we see a concern with their end. This is truly remarkable as these same authors (and many other nameless instructors within their generation) were responsible for laying the foundation of the martial arts that we now enjoy today.

This basic complex of social values largely survived the transition to ideological nationalism, and market-based methods of transmission, during the late Qing and early Republic period. In the period of “self-strengthening” (1860s-1890s) the entire nation was seen as under threat, and the martial arts came to be understood by some individuals as a way of preserving what was essential within Chinese society to resist the West. Thus fears about the disappearance of boxing could be mapped directly onto a larger historical dilemma. Likewise, Republic era reformers sought to place the traditional martial arts at the disposal of the nation building project, and (drawing on the Japanese example) saw within them the tools necessary to forge China into a single, modern, people. When individuals foresaw or debated the end of boxing, they were at the same time ruminating on the nature of the modern Chinese state, its values, and relationship with society.

Yet such discussions still emerge with some frequency in the Western media and martial arts circles. And it goes without saying that the cultural values that underlay these discussions are quite different from traditional Confucianism’s concerns with faithful transmission on the one hand, or the sorts of all-encompassing nationalisms that characterized the 1930s on the other. Is there a single theoretical lens which we might apply to the narrative of the vanishing Kung Fu master which both explains the popularity of the story today, while still (within reason) shedding some light on its previous manifestations?

Martial arts historians and social theorists alike would probably begin by pointing out that it is quite significant that the West encountered these hand combat systems during the great period of imperial expansion in the late 19^thcentury, and then again during the era of the consolidation of the global financial order in the immediate aftermath of WWII. This suggests that we cannot separate the social function of the martial arts from the emergence of late capitalism and modern consumer culture.

Indeed, modern capitalism plays the pivotal role in the post-WWII dissemination of the Asian martial arts. It gave rise to a set of economic, social and personal insecurities which came to define Western culture, and then promised the delivery of goods, ideas and practices that could solve these same issues. The first two of these issues are perhaps the easiest to understand. The rapid opening of markets to global trade flows always creates sets of winners and losers as the increased flows of new types of goods eliminate some jobs and threaten the fabric of traditional communities. While most individuals will be better off (in the long run) as the national economy expands, they will now be forced to deal with the basic existential questions of life (who am I, what is my purpose) without the support of the types of traditional communities and institutions that sought to provide those answers in the past.

The surplus of goods which modern capitalism facilitates seems to always be accompanied with a deficit in social meaning. Increasingly individuals are left to their own devices to determine what makes them unique, which groups (if any) they are part of, and what larger purpose they are meant to fill. Unsurprisingly individuals seek to find meaning within the sorts of goods and experiences that they consume. For instance, I might signal, and develop, a certain type of identity through the clothing that I wear, the type of car that I drive (or don’t drive), and the hobbies that I fill my free time with.

Yet in a world where everything can be purchased, and any individual with the same set of means might purchase a similar set of goods, how secure is such an identity? The perfectly interchangeable and anonymous nature of markets threatens the ability of these institutions to provide answers for the terrible existential questions of human existence that are always looming in the darkness. One logical response to this is to remove certain goods from the universal marketplace, thus preserving their cultural power by providing a non-economic gateway to their use. This strategy has been seen many times in history, but in the current era it seems to most closely approximate our current anxiety over cultural appropriation.

Several theorists have noted that we respond to the anxieties and threats of the modern consumer society by seeking something that exists beyond mere economic exchange with which to anchor identity. Given their importance to the counter-culture movement of the 1950s-1970s, Asian philosophies, religions and modes of aesthetic expression were often adopted as strategies for resisting the commercialization and hollowing-out of Western life. Chinese Daoism, Japanese film and, of course, the martial arts all exploded into the popular consciousness as a new generation sought to find a better set of values to anchor their lives in a rapidly changing post-War West. Strictly speaking, none of these things were actually “new.” Most of these images and ideas had been available to Westerners since the 1920s. The supply was already present. It was the post-war reevaluation of modern life that provided an explosion of demand.

Nevertheless, one must think carefully about how individuals, from the late 1940s to the early 1960s, actually encountered these ideas and practices. The old standby is to assert that Judo or Karate was popularized by vets returning from the occupation of Japan (or perhaps a stint in Taiwan). There is certainly some truth in this statement. And yet most of the vets who took up martial arts in the 1960s had never been stationed in Okinawa, Japan or Taiwan. Some key individuals and future tastemakers had. Don Draeger and R. W. Smith are both important examples of how a certain vision of the Asian martial arts was exported to the West.

Yet the vast majority of individuals who followed in their virtual footsteps had neither the life experience or financial means to travel East and South East Asia, documenting the martial arts. Some may have encountered aspects of these systems as “dirty fighting” in boot camp. Yet for the most part they came to Judo, Karate and later the Chinese martial arts through newspaper and magazine articles, TV specials and commercial transactions carried out in strip mall dojos dotting the American post-war landscape.

The central paradox of consumer culture is now laid bare. It promises to sell us goods, ideas and practices that can substitute for the loss of older types of community. Yet the very fact that such goods can be purchased by anyone leads us to question their authenticity and efficaciousness. If personal-transformation and escape from the woes of late capitalism can really be purchased for $60 a month, and I hand over my $60, what exactly have I escaped?

Once we have reached this point a variety of thinkers, from Slavoj Zizek to Jean Baurdrillard, could be invoked to help. Zizek’s work on “Western Buddhism” is in many ways particularly relevant here. But I would like to turn to a different source as it brings the discussion back to the frequent appearance of the words “last” and “first” in our discussions of the martial arts. Specifically, Amanda Fernbach’s 2002 Fantasies of Fetishism: From Decadence to the Post-Human (Rutgers UP) deserves consideration.

Specifically, the logic of Fernbach’s argument suggests that procumers (consumers who simultaneously produce Western martial arts culture through their participation in these systems) seek to solve the essential dilemma of counter-culture consumerism by reformulating their practice as a type of fetish. While the martial arts will continue to be distributed through a competitive marketplace this move relieves the latent anxiety about the authenticity of these goods. Specifically, discourses focusing on the origins or ending of an art serve to form a relationship between the practice and its students in which the now fetishized art becomes a powerful tool of its own marketing as well as a symbol of its own legitimacy.

Fernbach notes that the origins of the notion of “fetish” seems to lie in the colonial trade that occurred between Portugal and West Africa. Fetish goods were spiritually powerful, culturally defined, objects which could not be traded. Their exchange lay outside of normal economic channels, and they were believed to have a transformative effect on individuals or communities. Given our attempt to apply all of this to a discussion of the martial arts in the early and mid-twentieth century, it is important to note that the core concept of the fetish really derives from imperialist discourse and denotes an area that is somehow insulated from socially corrosive market forces.

This notion (focusing on the object which resisted exchange) would go on to inform the basic anthropological definition of the fetish which saw them as otherwise mundane objects thought to be endowed with tremendous spiritual powers (often used in worship). More specifically, they could grant great strength or ability to someone with the proper knowledge of their use. Freud took this basic notion and instead focused on the absence, or the fear, that might cause one to seek out a fetish in the first place. Fernbach finds his treatment of the concept wanting in a number of respects.

Karl Marx, on the other hand, found modern fetish goods within the Western economic marketplace. Here the good most certainly exchanges hands through trade. Yet some aspect of its value (perhaps its prestige, or ability to act as a status symbol) might outstrip its actual utilitarian worth. The fetish is thus a second good, encoded in the value of the first, which we might purchase within a marketplace.

Each of these definitions of the fetish are related to the others. Yet the original notion of an area (seemingly) protected from the corrosive effects of trade seems most relevant to what we see-or seek-in modern martial arts. Still, Freud’s very different take on the problem reminds us that what is often most important in understanding human behavior is the fear of the thing that is lacking.

Nor is the Marxist interpretation without some merit. As with any good in the marketplace, one must increase the demand for your product through advertising. Creating discourses that fetishize aspects of the martial arts communicates to consumers that they will receive value that goes above and beyond the simple instruction that we are outwardly paying for. For instance, when I put my child in a Taekwondo class she doesn’t just learn the basic kicks and punches that I am paying for. Undoubtably there will be a brochure in the school’s lobby informing me that she will also gain “self-confidence,” “discipline” and the ability to “work with others.” These are all core social values and a good example of the Marxist theory in action.

Still, I suspect that there is a more primal layer of myth creation that underlies all of this, one better explored through the older anthropological understanding of the fetish. As adult consumers look for a tool of self-actualization, guided perhaps by latent Orientalist notions about a “purer” East, they build a belt of protective fetish fantasies around the martial arts precisely to “save them” from the taint of the mundane. Perhaps the easiest of these fantasies to construct (and hence the most widespread) is that of origins and endings.

Such stories effectively sperate the martial arts from the world of endlessly repeatable consumer consumption by positing the existence of temporal discontinuity. It is time itself (or what Eliade might have called “sacred time”) that places the martial arts beyond the reach of “mere consumerism,” but not actual consumers. That which has vanished from the world can no longer be sold, even if I feel that I can access some aspect of this shared sacred past in my weekly Kung Fu classes. To be on the verge of disappearance is to also to be on the verge of having the sort of cultural surplus that we always bequeath of the long lost masters. To be the “last master” is to be remembered. At least in our more romantic imagination. One suspects that in real life practices vanish precisely because no one cares to remember them at all.

Likewise, something on the verge of extinction is also a candidate for revival. Ip Man became the “grandmaster” not because he was the first, or the best, Wing Chun practitioner. Rather, he was venerated by generations of students in Hong Kong and the West for “saving the art” from extinction. Whether that was actually the case is a topic for another day. But I don’t think that anyone doubts that Ip Man has come to be seen as an epochal figure in the Southern Chinese martial arts that the “generation” of most modern Wing Chun students is now counted from. His career is interesting precisely because it illustrates how closely linked the death and rebirth of an embodied identity can be, not just in historical practice but also in the stories that we come to tell.

Taijiquan teacher and students in a park. Source: http://english.cntv.cn

Conclusion

To be a member of the last (or first) generation of an art is find a place in history that appears to be beyond the whim of market forces. As witness to historical events it is hoped that one gains a sense of identity and purpose. Indeed, one may even wish for a bit of immortality. Given the universal appeal of these outcomes it is perhaps not surprising that media markets, in both the China, Japan and the West, have fetishized the imminent death of the martial arts. This often functions as a democratizing move. Lamenting their passing, or attempting to spark their revival, have become critical modes by which countless students experience these practices. And many more media consumers are exposed to the same feelings (often in a more nationalistic or cultural guise) as they consume news stories about the disappearance of these once great cultural artifacts. When these fetishes are exposed (throwing us back into the “desert of the real”), the result can be the sort of destructive feeling of disillusionment that Heather experienced upon actually coming face to face with Japan’s “last Samurai.”

Any student of martial arts history can illustrate, in great detail, that we are not the first generation to read premature obituaries of Kung Fu’s passing. Nor, through the simple process of extrapolation, are we likely to be the last. Yet when examined through the lens of Fernbach’s theory of the fetish it quickly, becomes apparent that the sorts of popular narratives that we tell about the death and rebirth of the martial arts are very important. The process of fetishization which she outlines (and is particularly amenable to the study of physical or embodied practices) suggests not just a mechanism by which these practices yield real transformative influence on the individual level, but also suggests much about the social ills that they seek to respond to. A theoretically informed examination of the martial arts suggests much about the terrain that lays behind us, and what we might yet become.

*All names and program titles have been changed to protect the innocents.

oOo

If you enjoyed this discussion you might also want to read: Bruce Lee: Memory, Philosophy and the Tao of Gung Fu

oOo

Of Pens and Swords: Jin Yong’s Journey

Posted on 5 Novembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

In recent years Louis Cha’s novels have become subjects for comic book artists.

The Loss of Heroes

The Chinese martial arts community has lost two giants. The death of Rey Chow (who was instrumental in jumpstarting Bruce Lee’s martial arts films) and Louis Cha (who wrote under the name Jin Yong) comes as a double blow. Granted, neither man is remembered primarily as a practitioner of the martial arts. Yet as story tellers they had a huge impact on the development of the shared web of signs, meanings and desires that would shape the development of the Chinese martial art community from roughly the 1950s until the present. As scholars we need to pay close attention to this cultural web as it is the software that structures the human experience. While not strictly determinative, none of us will strive to accomplish that which we cannot imagine.

Both of these figures are deserving of an essay. Yet at the moment I find myself drawn to reflect on Cha. His stature as a literary figure, and frequent forays into modern Chinese politics (both from the editorial page and his service on various governmental committees) are fascinating in their own right. Yet I will admit to having some ambivalence regarding the cultural impact of his novels. To put the question simply, I find myself wondering what Hong Kong’s martial culture would look like today had “Jin Yong” accepted a newspaper job in Taipie in 1947 rather than Hong Kong.

Simply asking such a question smacks of heresy. In many ways Loius Cha is synonymous with Hong Kong, his adopted home. He was the co-founder, and long-time editor, of the Ming Pao daily, a major publication. While Cha is still remembered for his blistering anti-Beijing editorials during the Cultural Revolution, he became the first (non-Communist) Hong Kong resident to meet with Deng Xioping as he sought to steer China on a more open path. And with over 100 million copies sold (not counting untold pirate editions), as well as derivative films, TV programs, radio dramas, comic books and video games too numerous to count, Cha’s novels are quite possibly Hong Kong’s most important cultural export within the Chinese cultural zone. Yet his impact on the Southern Chinese martial arts has been complex.

Perhaps the best way forward would be to review the contours of a remarkable career as we ask how it was that Cha, and a generation of immigrants like him, came to call Hong Kong home. This may suggest something about Cha’s impact on the development of Southern Chinese martial culture in the post-1949 era, as well as the continuing echoes and reverberations of his legacy today.

I should state for the record that I do not claim to be an expert in the analysis, or criticism, of Cha’s work, and have only read a few of his in novels in translation. I am sure that there are others who are better qualified to write an essay such as this. Nor is that admission an artifact of false modesty. The immense popularity of Cha’s novels have actually sparked the creation of an entire academic subfield (some of which even appears in English) dedicated to the study of his legacy. Still, his influence on the world of actual Chinese martial arts practitioners has been so great that I cannot leave his passing in silence. The complexity of his relationship with this community seems to stretch far beyond the platitudes that we encounter in his many newspaper obituaries.

Jin Fong reviewing a copy of his own work. Source: BBC

Making a Hero

Like so many others, Cha first arrived in Hong Kong as a way station as he was headed somewhere else. He was born as Zha Liangyong in 1924 in Zhejiang province. His family had deep, multigenerational, scholarly credentials and it was only natural that Liang would also find a career in literature. But his pathway was far from straight. He exhibited his trademark penchant for fiery political rhetoric as a youth and was expelled from high school in 1941 after publicly denouncing the KMT’s government as “aristocratic”. Indeed, he would continue to identify himself as “anti-feudal” and “liberal” throughout his life.

After graduating from (a different) high school in 1943, Cha was accepted at the Department of Foreign Languages at the Central University of Chongqing. His initial plan was to become a foreign service officer or diplomat. However, he quickly dropped out of this program, and applied to study international law at Soochow University.

To help finance his studies Cha took a job in journalism with a major British owned paper. Fortuitously his company transferred him to the Hong Kong office in 1947. Things did not go well for all of Cha’s family who stayed behind after the Communist takeover in 1949. His father was arrested as a counterrevolutionary and executed in the early 1950s. Critics, like John Christopher Hamm (who has written one of the best English language studies of Cha’s work), note that his early novels are marked with a profound awareness of the plight of exile, alienation and loss. Like so many others who had come to Hong Kong for business or work, it quickly became apparent that there was no going home. Cha would be forced to build a new life in a largely Cantonese city under British colonial rule.

In the early 1950s Cha befriended Chen Wentong, a fellow journalist, who worked at the same paper. He encouraged Cha’s interest in writing and in 1955 (writing under the pseudonym Jin Yong) he began to produce the first of the serialized wuxia novels that would make him famous. In English this story’s title is typically rendered The Book and the Sword.

In 1959 Cha and his high school classmate, Shen Baoxin, established the Ming Pao daily newspaper with Cha serving as editor. The small paper started off as a home for “Jin Yong’s” increasingly popular novels, but it has since grown to be on the largest Chinese daily papers. In its first two decades Cha was responsible for writing not just the serialized novels but also the daily editorials and many small features. It is reported that at times he was publishing more than 10,000 characters a day.

In total Cha produced 14 novels and a single short story under the Jin Yong pseudonym. Then, in 1972, he retired and announced that he would concentrate on consolidating and editing his already extensive literary legacy. This was a complex undertaking as these novels had first appeared as serialized newspaper columns, which operated under their own set of literary conventions. In 1979 Cha released the first “complete and definitive” set of novels, many of which had been streamlined or slightly reworked in the editorial process.

The 1970s-1990s were a period of increased political activity in Cha’s life. He had always maintained an interest in politics (often understood through a more traditional Chinese cultural lens focusing on “the national interest”). Initially this led Cha to make many enemies on the left when he forcefully denounced the Cultural Revolution. Still, his reputation as someone capable of bringing together complex competing perspectives led to an invitation to meet with Deng Xiaoping and his subsequent appointment to the committee drafting Hong Kong’s Basic Law. Cha resigned that position in 1989 in protest over the Tiananmen Square Incident. Yet in 1996 he was once again working on the important Preparatory Committee, prior to the 1997 handover.

Not content to rest on his literary or political laurels, Cha pursued his lifelong fascination with Chinese history by pursuing a Doctorate in Oriental Studies at Cambridge University. His degree was awarded in 2010 when he deposited his dissertation focusing on imperial succession in the early Tang dynasty. Cha remained an important public figure throughout his life and his works have remained popular. A highly publicized English language version of his Condor Heroes series released its first installment in 2018. Cha died on October 30^th2018, at 94, after a long period of illness.

A recent English language translation of one of Louis Cha’s classic Wuxia novels.

Contextualizing a Life

John Christopher Hamm has argued that it is impossible to understand Jin Yong’s meaning or social significance without thinking very carefully about the environment that this literary phenomenon emerged in. Hong Kong’s newspapers were already well acquainted with the notion of serialized martial arts novels well before Cha’s arrival in the city. Indeed, the region had a rich, well-established, tradition of Kung Fu novels stretching back through the 19th century. Many of these were firmly rooted in Cantonese colloquialisms and local heroic figures. While one must be careful not to draw what were always shifting social borders too strictly, these stories typically appealed to the transient workers and merchants who came to Hong Kong to do business before returning (either at the end of a season or a career) to some other location in the Pearl River delta.

With the national upheavals of the late 1930s and 1940s, the city’s complexion began to change quite rapidly. Increasing numbers of displaced persons made their way to Hong Kong in an effort to escape the turmoil elsewhere in China. Since these Northern immigrants had the means to travel, they were often better off financially and more educated than much of the local population. Following the 1949 liberation of China by the Communist Party, they streamed in, effectively overwhelming the Guangdong culture that had dominated Hong Kong since its inceptions. It is interesting to note, parenthetically, that Ip Man and Louis Cha arrived in the city within a year and a half of each other, though they represented different cultural currents.

Like Cha these individuals slowly came to the realization that the 1949 crisis was not a limited event like the others that had marked China’s tumultuous 20^thcentury. Rather than a temporary haven, Hong Kong had become their home for the imaginable future. Cultural clashes were common. Local Cantonese residents referred to these newcomers as “outlanders.” For their part the Northern refugees tended to see Hong Kong as a cultural wasteland. Cantonese culture was dismissed as backwards and new radio stations, theater groups and even newspapers quickly sprang up to cater to these northern “outlanders” who brought their own ideas about what modern Chinese life should be.

The Ming Pao daily was one of these institutions. And as Hamm notes, Jin Yong’s novels were a clear departure from the local kung fu tales that had previously dominated Hong Kong story telling. Acutely self-aware, his stories focused not on local heroes, but epic tales of contests for control of the Central Plains during periods of foreign occupation. When the heroes suffered their inevitable defeats, they retreated to the fringes of the empires and went into exile, just as Jin Yong’s readers had.

This is not to say that Jin Yong’s work didn’t have immense appeal, or that it was incapable of reaching a cross-over audience. As so many writers have recently noted, his novels have proved to be culturally enduring precisely because they speak to individuals across the geographic, ideological and economic lines that have traditionally divided the Chinese cultural area. They have managed to do so in large part by advancing an appealing, nuanced, vision of Chinese nationalism. Self-determination and cultural identity seem to rest at the heart of Cha’s understanding of patriotism. And in his later works he goes to lengths to praise China’s many ethnic minorities (particularly the ones that have contributed to its martial arts traditions) advancing a more open and liberal vision of what Chinese nationalism might be.

All of this is combined with a reverence for traditional Confucian values, particularly when they order the relationship between teachers and students, family members or leaders and followers. Yet the feudal past, in which all of his stories are set, is not accepted uncritically. Cha remained deeply suspicious of the feudal and aristocratic, and so his characters can be seen to wrestle with, and critically examine, practices that no longer work in the “modern” world of the 14^thor 15^thcenturies.

A lack of Cantonese colloquialisms notwithstanding, these themes were likely to have a broad appeal within Hong Kong society. Cha made sophisticated discussions about identity, belonging and the nation available to those with a variety of educational and cultural backgrounds. Yet these stories always originated from a specific place, or point of view. Nor can one help but wonder what other vision of martial arts culture they displaced, or pushed to the margins, as Jin Yong attained a sort of hegemonic dominance within the Wuxia genre. In my own research I frequently run across accounts of martial arts students in the 1960s and 1970s who, while enthusiastic to learn the southern martial arts, carried with them different visions about the values or identities that motivated these systems. Generational conflict over such matters is not unique to this case. Though as I read one testimonial after another as to how critical Cha was to defining the world view of a generation of Southern martial artists, I cannot help but wonder what he displaced, and to what degree he helped to shape the disjointed expectations of the period. Indeed, in my own account of Wing Chun’s history during the post-war era, Jing Yong’s novels are more likely to play the role of “loyal opposition” than protagonist.

Cha, second from left, in 1960, with the cast of the film “Return of the Condor Heroes.” Source: The New Yorker

The Journey North

The burgeoning hostility of local Hong Kong residents towards Northern visitors or residents is nothing new. It is easy to find recent newspaper articles and editorials referring to Northerners as “locusts” who sweep in to consume not just cheap goods, but increasingly the best real estate and jobs, pushing long-time residents ever further from the center. In the wake of his death some individuals openly wondered whether a figure like Cha could succeed today given the open hostility to immigrants. The great irony, of course, is that the majority of Hong Kong’s “legitimate” residents today were once northern transplants themselves, and Cha’s stories helped their parents to negotiate an environment that was not always friendly, familiar or welcoming.

By becoming the quintessential Hong Kong storyteller (a lack of Cantonese roots notwithstanding) Cha is once again acting as a cultural bridge. Amidst all of the anxiety about the death of the Hong Kong film industry, and the future of the Southern Chinese martial arts (which are being priced out of the city by skyrocketing rents), it is easy to forget that in some ways the Cantonese martial arts heroes are now more popular than ever throughout the PRC. Ip Man has become a household figure (and his art has exploded in popularity) not just because of his association with Bruce Lee. Rather, Wilson Ip’s 2008 film and its many successors have been key in spreading this bit of Southern culture throughout the mainland.

It has been noted (by myself and others) that the vision of Ip Man that these films conjure does not bear a close resemblance to the real life (and rather well documented) figure. In the place of the undeniably mercurial and modernist Ip Man, what do these films present? A figure that in many ways splits the difference between the traditional Kung Fu genre and one of Cha’s stories. Yes, the action is still gritty and “realistic” with minimal wire work. But we now have a hero who exemplifies martial virtue, who demonstrates Confucian values in his relationships, who is a patriot who fights for China, and in defeat he retreats in exile to the edge of the empire. Does that sound familiar?

The flavor of these films is undeniably influenced by the Hong Kong tradition. Yet the mold that shapes the stories bears an uncanny resemblance to the ideal hero (a patriot who endures rather than wins) as laid out in Cha’s many novels. Where as Ip Man and Louis Cha had once existed as contemporary historical figures, whose lives ran on parallel tracks, their legacies now interact in complex ways. Rather than simply displacing the Pearl River Delta’s traditional Kung Fu narrative, Cha seems to have provided a pattern by which its heroes can travel North, testing their own fortunes in the Central Plains.

oOo

If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Lives of Chinese Martial Artists (14): Ark Yuey Wong—Envisioning the Future of the Chinese Martial Arts

oOo

Through a Lens Darkly (56): New York City’s Kung Fu and the Roaring 1920s

Posted on 2 Novembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Introduction

While I have a few connections in New York City’s TCMA community, it has always been my experience that one turns up different sorts of insights by getting out and exploring the terrain on one’s own. It was with that notion in mind that my wife and I set out to reconnoiter the older Manhattan Chinatown, which now seems almost quaint when compared in scale to its larger and more vibrant neighbor in Queens. The weather was great, and we got some memorable photos of tourists from China stopping to take photos of Chinese-American businesses and families. The gods of globalization move in mysterious ways.

The afternoon was not a total bust. We briefly made contact with two people working on Xingyi in a local park, though it was abundantly clear that no manner of martial art was going to distract the local residents from the many card games that dominated the district. After purchasing a book (by my friend Mark Wiley) from a local martial arts business, we were able to learn a little more about the neighborhood’s martial arts scene. Things sounded quiet, but we found out about two other instructors (Taijiquan and Wing Chun) who occasionally taught in the same park.

Still, there was very little evidence of the vibrant martial arts scene that had been so prominent during the late 1970s and 1980s. While the gentrification that has reshaped so much of the island was less evident south of Canal Street, Chinatown evolves and changes, like everything else. It seems that the warehouse schools which I read about in memoirs and doctoral dissertations have suffered the same fate as many of the more colorful elements of New York life.

In search of some historical perspective my wife and I next visited a local non-profit dedicated to preserving as much of Chinatown’s local and oral history as possible. The young employees (all in their 20s) thought that our subject sounded fascinating. Yet as they searched their databases and various key-word indexes they didn’t hold out much hope of finding anything useful. While they approached their job with infectious enthusiasm, they freely admitted that most of the neighborhood’s older residents didn’t share their zeal for preserving the past.

In fact, convincing older Chinese-Americans to sit down for oral history interviews was proving to be every bit as difficult as one might suspect. While there was some interesting history available on various musical and opera societies, once the tape recorders were turned on no one seemed willing to admit to knowing anything about martial arts instruction or Lion Dancing. In fact, the young researchers who staffed the office were hopeful that as a “total outsider” I would have better luck than them when it came to interviewing individuals and ferreting out this chapter of the historical record.

The situation was even bleaker when looking for resources that might discuss martial arts training in the pre-war period. Outside of a few stories and names, not much of substance seems to have survived. Giving me a mournful look, my ever-earnest historical guide explained that with so few surviving sources much of the texture of the community had been irrevocably lost. So ended my hopes of unearthing a rich trove of New York’s early Chinese martial arts history.

Or so I thought. Research is a funny thing. All of our sources are oddly specific, and even the most comprehensive database catches only a fraction of what is already sitting in some archive or library. While conducting a search for Chinese newsreel footage of martial arts practice during the Guoshu decade (1928-1938), I stumbled across something much more valuable. I found perhaps the best preserved and oldest footage of North American Southern Kung Fu practice that I had yet seen. Even better, it was shot on the same New York City streets that my wife and I had recently explored.

The Footage

Anyone interested in viewing this film can do so by clicking this link. This priceless visual record has been preserved on a reel of out-takes and raw newsreel footage that is held by the Historic Film archive. The entire reel is quite important as it helps to contextualize how images of the Chinese martial arts were classified and framed at the time of their production and cataloging. All of the clips on the reel were produced during the 1920s and most of them focus on scenes of entertainment. The period’s jazz tradition is well represented, and scenes of Chinese-American life find themselves juxtaposed with visual records of the African-American community. It should be noted that there are multiple recordings of Chinese New Year Festivals on the reel, suggesting a persistent interest in the subject.

At minute 19:42 viewers will encounter footage of a New Year celebration which happened on January 10^th, 1929. In addition to the more common scenes of enthusiastic crowds, fireworks and Lion Dancing, two minutes of footage was also shot of the sorts of martial arts exhibitions that accompanied these festivals. While such exhibitions are occasionally noted in period newspaper reports, this is the most complete visual record of such a performance (in North America), that I have yet encountered.

This material rewards a close examination. None of this footage has been narrated, nor are there scene cards. As such I suspect that most of this material was probably treated as “out takes.” Still, it’s a rich source. While we might lament that we only have two minutes of material, by the standards of a 1920s newsreel, two minutes is an eternity.

This footage is composed of a series of much briefer clips (most ranging in length from 10 to 30 seconds) which focus on the performance of individual martial artists, all performing on a single day in what appears to be the same crowded outdoor venue. In total 11 sequences are shown, each focusing on some sort of forms performance. Both unarmed and weapons sets are represented in the sample, as well as a few two-person weapons sets. (For the sake of clarity this post is discussing only the martial arts demonstration, and not the excellent Lion Dance footage found on the same newsreel which probably deserves specialized treatment of its own).

If we assume that most of these sets could be introduced, set up and performed in about two minutes, it seems that the original demonstration was at least 22 minutes long. Even more remarkable is that very few individuals (maybe one or two) made any repeat performances in this show. Thus it took at least a dozen martial artists to stage this demonstration.

Most of the individuals in the show were wearing regalia suggesting that they had just come from (or were headed to) Lion Dancing. The standard uniform appears to have been a white shirt, black bowtie and Kung Fu pants, but a number of individuals can also be seen to wear the typical street clothing of the period. All of the performers in this film are male (though I have seen newsreel footage of female martial artists in NYC in the 1930s). Some are dressed as common laborers, while other have the air of shopkeepers or clerks.

A detailed breakdown of the film is as follows:

19:49-19:53 Unarmed Solo Set 1 (conclusion)

19:54-20:05 Unarmed Solo Set 2 (opening)

20:06-20:29 Unarmed Solo Set 3 (opening)

20:30-20:36 Solo Weapon, Eyebrow Staff

20:37-20:40 Solo Weapon, Southern Style Long Pole

20:41-21:08 Solo Weapon, Pudao

21:08-21:22 Solo Weapon, Hudiedao (Butterfly Swords)

21:23-21:32 Two Man, Long Poles

21:33-21:52 Solo Weapon, Rattan Shield and short saber

21:53-21:55 Two Man, Spear vs. Shield and Sword

21:56-22:00 Two Man, Spear vs. Shield and Sword

Analysis

So what sort of demonstration are we looking at? To begin with, one of remarkable sophistication. The conventional narratives suggest that modern Chinese martial arts schools, as we know them today, did not begin to appear in Chinatowns in cities like New York, San Francisco and Toronto until the 1950s. Prior to that it is not the case that the martial arts were never taught. Rather, their instruction tended to be sponsored by the various fraternal societies, theater groups and criminal organizations that dominated much of these neighborhoods’ associational life. Indeed, as Charlie Russo has demonstrated in his book on the Bay Area martial arts community, the first generation of public instructors often opened their school after having first established a reputation in community these group. For their part, the various Tongs are generally thought to have been more interested in training “street soldiers” capable of collecting gambling debts, acting as bouncers in a variety of establishments and dealing with belligerent tourists.

Still, the existence of this film problematizes any attempt to bifurcate early 20^thcentury Chinese-American martial arts into a “practical” pre-war phase and a post-war era that might be more recognizable. While it seems unlikely that any of the individuals received their instruction in public commercial martial arts schools in New York City during the 1920s (to the best of our knowledge there simply weren’t any), it is now clear that there were a large number of individuals who were regularly gathering to train in the traditional martial arts. Further, staging a Lion Dance and demonstration with as many individuals as we see on this film suggests a fair degree of organizational sophistication. While they may not have been organized as a public school, it would appear that their institutional Kung Fu must have been pretty good.

What about their physical practice? All of this film was shot from a single elevated camera angle, so the various martial artists move in and out of the frame. This combined with the repetitive nature of many Southern sets, and the short duration of most of the clips, makes it very difficult to positively identify the various forms being displayed. After sharing this film with Hung Gar instructors on various continents, and a couple of Choy Li Fut students, we were not able to identify any of the sets with 100% certainty. Most of the unarmed and weapons work bears a resemblance to pre-Wong Fei Hung style Hung Gar. Alternatively, the one set in which we see the rattan shield and sword combined with tumbling is highly suggestive of some sets that are still practiced in Choy Li Fut.

Identifying these sets has proved to be somewhat frustrating. The film suggests that the general movement culture (or possibly “habitus”) of the Southern Chinese folk arts have remained remarkably consistent over the last century. It was genuinely interesting to see how the seventh performer moved with the hudiedao. Figuring out just what these guys were doing might be an important clue in reconstructing the early TCMA community as it existed in New York city during the 1920s. If anyone has any insights into the identities of these sets (or better yet, the martial artists) please leave a comment below.

oOo

If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Lion Dancing, Youth Violence and the Need for Theory in Chinese Martial Studies

oOo

Martial Classics: The Complete Fist Cannon in Verse

Posted on 26 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

A period depiction of Ming Soldiers involved in the Piracy Crisis which inspired Qi Jiguang’s now famous discussion of military training. Source: Ming Qiu Shizhou Taiwan Zoukai Tu (Victory in Taiwan by Qiu Ying [pseudonym Shizhou] of the Ming, 1494 – 1552). Click here to learn more about this important source.

Translator’s Note

Here is the full translation of the Qi Jiguang’s Fist Method as it appears in the Wubei Zhi, offered as a follow-up to my initial discussion of the challenges of translating this text into English verse. If you are coming to this discussion for the first time, you may want to read that initial essay before proceeding on. I want to make this available to everyone who expressed interest and to anyone else who might find it helpful. I do not intend this to be authoritative or even unchanging. Input and discussion is always wanted and appreciated. I hope you find it enjoyable to read.

Historical context

“拳經捷要篇 -The Essential Chapters of the Fist Cannon” was first published in Qi Jiguang’s seminal training manual “JiXiaoXinShu”. It was later republished in the Wubei Zhi in it’s complete form. Understanding the content of this work is dependent upon understanding its historical contexts both in the military and broader social or societal arena.

Social

There are several social factors of this period in the Ming Dynasty that one must take into account when trying to place this treatise in its proper context. The traditional hereditary military system was breaking down. There were simply not enough officers or soldier being produced from those families to keep the Ming military at its former glory. The breakdown of Ming forces contributed to a rise in social violence including, rebellions, highway men and banditry, organized cannibalism, and other fairly horrific behaviors that occur when populations become desperate and have nowhere to turn.

While violence and crime were important factors in daily Ming life, there were also more positive influences. Printing and publishing saw an enormous rise during the Ming as did literacy. With a more literate populace, the demand for books of all types grew. Printed books became big business. The publishing boom of the 16th century produced thousands of texts to be consumed by a growing lettered class. It is in this environment that we find the rise of the martial arts/military treatise purchased by non-military readers.

As the Literati grew in numbers, more and more books on every subject were produced. Those with an interest in military or martial affairs now had the ability to study these topics even if not born into the military class. People like Mao Yuanyi who wrote and compiled the largest written document on military affairs in the Chinese language, the Wubei Zhi, were able to access this information without being a member of a hereditary Military family. This brought an entirely new perspectives to discussions of the martial arts.

It is difficult to say when the Martial arts manual that we know today truly came about, but we have little evidence of these texts prior to the Ming dynasty. Surviving martial art texts from before the Ming are often vague and general, offering more strategic and tactical insight and philosophy than step by step instruction of technique. The true illustrated martial arts text was, more than likely, a product of the Ming publishing boom as the audience for such texts grew.

Qi’s first book “JiXiaoXinShu” was published in this environment and one can make a convincing case that this is the oldest example of a martial arts manual for the training of individual skills. Where as prior, this information was most likely held by the military families as “trade secrets,” Qi decided to include examinations of various martial arts for the battlefield and focus on the individual training of troops.

Military

Qi Jiguang wrote “JixiaoxinShu” in the late 1500’s near the end of the Ming Dynasty. The circumstances of his writing this book and subsequently re-editing it later, concern the Woku Coastal pirate crisis. The Woku, more commonly referred to as ‘Japanese Pirates’, were an enormous problem for the Ming at the end of the 1500’s. These bands of raiders, which consisted of mostly local Chinese citizens (often former fishermen or merchant sailors), were bankrolled or under the command of self appointed Japanese Sea Lords. They operated under the nose of the Ming government, effectively undermining their trade war with Japan.

Not only were the raids themselves a security problem for the region, but due to rampant corruption, many local authorities were actually collaborating with the Woku. This allowed them to bring their raids far inland and away from the coast. They were able to reach and pillage communities that were previously considered safe.

Assigned to the region was another famous and influential writer of the Ming dynasty, General Yu Dayou, author of “Jian Jing”. General Yu was frustrated with the lack of support he received from the Capitol, who in turn withheld funds and equipment due to lack of real progress in the crisis. General Yu insisted that he needed more fire arms and ships to adequately meet the threat. The government refused.

When General Qi arrived on the scene, he knew that asking for material support would be a fools errand. Instead, he came up with progressive if not novel approaches to the lack of technology and men available to them. He formed a mercenary army, consisting of volunteers from the affected farming communities. He specially chose these people as they were used to hard work, they were defending their homes, and they would be paid for their trouble. The problem was, that in the past, soldiers and military personnel came primarily from the hereditary military families and had some experience in the act of warfare. This system had begun to break down in the mid-Ming, which also contributed to the public’s general lack of faith in the imperial forces.

Because these recruits were not from traditional military back grounds, there was a need to train them from the ground up. It is this method that Qi later detailed in his treatise “JiXianXinShu”- the New Methods of Military Effectiveness. One of the unique features of this book is that it is one of the first military treatises to cover the training of individual martial arts by soldiers. Since the men he was using a the time did not have formal training in military exercise or fighting on the battlefield, Qi included the training regimens for several weapons and one chapter devoted to empty handed technique.

The martial arts that Qi choose to represent in his writing is linked to the strategies that he devised for the crisis. The spear takes the lead followed by the shield and dao, sported by archers with both conventional and fire/explosive arrows.At the end of the section is talk of the staff and finally is the bare handed section. Qi’s reason for including unarmed martial art is, as he states, mainly for conditioning and keeping the troops occupied and focused. While these techniques may have found some direct application in friendly wrestling bouts of the sorts that soldiers have while encamped, even Qi states in his introduction that there is little use for such things in the theater of war.

The Art Represented

Much of our discussion of Qi’s unarmed method must remain conjecture. The names of each technique are familiar to modern practitioners of Chinese martial arts. Many of these names appear in several separate martial traditions. Taijiquan, for instance, shares a fair number of these names within the various lineages of the art. Some historians have taken this to mean that this document is the direct antecedent to the art of Taijiquan. While it is difficult to say if there is a direct connection, or if Qi’s writing indicate the survival of an art that has been practiced since the Ming, it should be remembered that the names and techniques described here are actually shared by several styles including Baji, Fanzi, Pigua, Cha Quan, Tang Lang (mantis), and many others. Qi says that he has taken these techniques from various sources. It could be that the origins for the names are to be found in them, and thus may indicate an unbroken “lineage” into modern times.

However, if one looks at the situation of new conscripts learning new skills and bringing them back to their home villages, a migration of common names through a wide variety of people and communities does not seem so far fetched. Let’s remember that Qi’s book was published and sold to non military readers as well and that it did gain a following among the literati. If these techniques were used in the training of provincial troops from surrounding areas, these men would take these technique, names, and sequences home with them and repurpose them for the needs of the community. It is in my opinion easy to assume that this is at least one factor in the creation of styles that share technique nomenclature yet no apparent technical base or common lineage.

The techniques themselves seem to be centered around what could be deemed “fast wrestling” today. Fast wrestling is a sport in which wrestling moves are performed as quickly as possible and points are scored with successful throws without the use of extended ground fighting. Essentially, pin them as fast as you can. Battlefield techniques do not usually include lots of wrestling. But grappling and wrestling are far more useful than hitting in this context. Qi admits that this is included for exercise and conditioning only and has little direct relevance to war.

Qi also makes the claim to have extracted these techniques as the best examples from the famous styles being practiced during the day. He then lists many of them with the impression being given that this is very much like a hybrid style made up of techniques from others. Some may be tempted to call this “mixed martial arts.” However, I believe it is an error to equate the purpose of Qi’s fist method with the modern sport of MMA. Martial arts have always borrowed and taken from other arts to add and expand their own. It does not follow that the mixing of techniques from different traditions was particularly rare or frowned upon. The sport of MMA is a mix of martial art for a single purpose of getting the most effective techniques for submitting your opponent. The use of fighting in the armed forces is much broader and, in Qi’s method, the unarmed exercises serve health and fitness purpose almost exclusively. In that sense at least, it is not that different from many modern practitioners of taijiquan practice today.

Translation notes

Qi Jiguangs’s Empty-handed method is perhaps one of the best known Ming era martial arts texts. This is in large part due to the fact the many of the names of techniques used in this text are still found in martial arts today. Many traditions (most notably Taijiquan) cite this document as an early predecessor to the modern arts they practice. These arts often refer back to this document without much in the way of analysis. As the names are often popular, they have over the years acquired some conventional glosses. I have made a directed effort not to simply use these familiar translations but rather to render the name in as clear language as I can to describe the action taking place or to give a clearer context with the language. No doubt this might cause some initial confusion amongst readers who are looking at this through the lens of their own art. But, I am approaching the text as a separate practice, however influential it might have been.

One specific note that should be pointed out is the translation of the word “Quan” 拳. While the word is a familiar suffix denoting a martial art, it is used in a few different ways in this text. In the past the word has ben translated as “boxing”. I have stayed away from that gloss for the most part as its is imprecise within the discussion we are currently having. I will at times translate it as “fist” to stay within the idiom, but when discussed in general terms, I have used the rather wordy “unarmed techniques/combat”. By using both approaches I hope that it reads more naturally without forcing the reader to code switch as much.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Ting from the Great Ming Military blog, Clifford Lao, and Ma Xianfeng for their invaluable help and input in the subtleties of Literary Chinese and Ming history. Thanks also go to Ben Judkins for allowing me the platform to present my work. It is my sincerest wish that practitioners of martial arts will find these at the very least interesting if not illuminating to past practices. I also hope that it encourages more people to make their own translation attempts of these texts. Multiple perspectives are always needed.

Any errors are my own and I accept any and all criticism or correction.

拳經捷要篇

Essential Chapters of the Fist Cannon

〔此藝不甚預於兵，能有餘力，則亦武門所當習。但眾之不能強者，亦聽其所便耳。於是以此為諸篇之末。第十四。〕

[While this art is not very useful for preparing troops (for war), it can help with excess energy, or as an initial practice of martial arts. However, most people cannot become strong this way. They only listen to their own ears (only do movements with which they are familiar). Therefore, this section is placed at the end of the other sections as per it’s significance. Chapter 14]

拳法似無預於大戰之技，然活動手足，慣勤肢體，此為初學入藝之門也。故存于後，以備一家。學拳要身法活便，手法便利，腳法輕固，進退得宜，腿可飛騰，而其妙也，顛起倒插 ; 而其猛也，披劈橫拳；而其快也，活捉朝天；而其柔也，知當斜閃。故擇其拳之善者三十二勢，勢勢相承，遇敵制勝，變化無窮，微妙莫測。窈焉冥焉，人不得而窺者，謂之神。俗云：「拳打不知」，是迅雷不及掩耳。所謂不招不架，只是一下；犯了招架，就有十下。博記廣學，多算而勝。

Unarmed combat seems to offer nothing in the way of the preparation for large scale war, but the exercising of the hands and feet forms habits for moving the limbs as a unit, making this practice a doorway to learning the art (of war). This chapter is provided last to complete the preparation of skills. To learn the fist (unarmed techniques) it is necessary to have the body mechanics lively yet simple, the hand work simple yet keen, footwork is light, giving the ability to advance and retreat at will and legs that can leap and jump. How wonderful it is; To rise high and fall low, and how fierce; the chopping across with the fists, how quick; lively grasping for the sky, and how soft; to know how to endure and evade. For this reason I have chosen 32 of the best unarmed techniques, each one follows from the previous, with applications to an opponent, it can be adapted in unpredictable ways. How refined, how deep! The uninitiated will watch you and claim you are a supernatural master. A common saying; “The fist hits without knowing”, surely it is like trying to cover your ears before the thunder. They say no provocation, no resistance, just one action will bring them down; attack will provoke resistance, then ten attacks of their own will follow. Play the game but remember the larger lesson, Those that strategize and plan will be victorious.

古今拳家，宋太祖有三十二勢長拳，又有六步拳、猴拳、囮拳，名勢各有所稱，而實大同小異。至今之溫家七十二行拳、三十六合鎖、二十四棄探馬、八閃番、十二短，此亦善之善者也。呂紅八下雖剛，未及綿張短打，山東李半天之腿，鷹爪王之拿，千跌張之跌，張伯敬之打。少林寺之棍，與青田棍法相兼；楊氏鎗法與巴子拳棍，皆今之有名者，雖各有所取。然傳有上而無下，有下而無上，就可取勝於人，此不過偏於一隅。若以各家拳法兼而習之，正如常山蛇陣法，擊首則尾應，擊尾則首應，擊其身而首尾相應，此謂上下周全，無有不勝。

The Ancient Schools of the Fist; Taizu has 32 stances of long fist, also six step fist, monkey fist, decoy fist, the names of the stances each have their own qualities, but in reality they have a great amount of similarities and only small differences. Today the styles of note are Wen Family 72 step Fist, 36 locks, 24 throws of Testing Horse, 8 dodging turns, and 20 short (hits). Lu hong’s 8 take downs, although it is strong, it does not match the “cotton fist” or “Short Hit”. ShanDong’s Li BanTian’s kicks, Eagle Claw King’s grappling, 1,000 throws of Zhang’s throwing (method). Zhang BaiJing’s striking. The staff methods of Shaolin Temple and QingTian compliment each other, Yang Family Spear and Baozi style staff, this is all we have today, although they have their own strengths. Some systems may have the upper and not the lower, or have the lower and not the upper, victory may be possible for one man, but this is not a comprehensive approach. If each Family Fighting method is combined and practiced, the principle of the Mountain Snake Formation, strike the head and the tail must follow, strike the tail and the head must follow, strike at their body and both head and tail must react. This is what is meant by upper and lower are together, and victory is certain.

大抵拳、棍、刀、鎗、叉、鈀、劍、戟、弓矢、鈎鐮、挨牌之類，莫不先有拳法活動身手。其拳也，為武藝之源。今繪之以勢，註之以訣，以啟後學。既得藝，必試敵，切不可以勝負為愧、為奇，當思何以勝之，何以敗之！勉而久試，怯敵還是藝淺，善戰必定藝精。古云：「藝高人胆（膽）大」，信不誣矣！

Overall, the practice of the fist, saber, spear, fork, trident, sword, halberd, archery, hook, scythe, and others in this class, first have the fist method to train the movement of body and hands. And therefore, this method of unarmed combat is the wellspring of martial arts. Here the movements are transmitted by illustrations of the stances, explanation of the secrets, introducing the student to the method. Those that have learned this will surely test the enemy, do not be ashamed of the outcome, instead, ponder why you were victorious or how you were defeated. Make a concerted effort and experiment for a long time, if you lack courage your skill will be shallow, good fighting surely decides the essence of the art. The ancients have said; “The exulted artist is a man with great bravery”, trust this without reservation.

余在舟山公署，得參戎劉草堂打拳，所謂「犯了招架，便是十下」之謂也。此最妙，即棍中之連打。

When I was in ZhouShan, I was able to train with Liu Cao-Tong in boxing at the public hall, they say “If one commits only to blocking, ten more blows will come”, just as with the very clever staff attack of chaining strikes together.

懶扎衣出門架子

變下勢霎步單鞭

對敵若無膽向先

空自眼明手便

Lǎn zhā yī chūmén jiàzi

biàn xià shì shà bù dān biān

duì dí ruò wú dǎn xiàng xiān

kōngzì yǎn míng shǒu biàn

Tie Your Coat and come outside,

Single Whip with sudden stride,

Without the courage to advance,

Sharp eyes fast hands will have no chance.

金雞獨立顚(顛)起

裝腿橫拳相兼

槍背卧牛雙倒

遭着叫苦連天

Jīnjīdúlì diān (diān) qǐ

zhuāng tuǐ héng quán xiāng jiān

qiāng bèi wò niú shuāng

zāozhe jiàokǔliántiān

Golden Rooster stands on top,

Present your leg then sideways chop,

Rush in low and Trip the Bull,

They cry to heaven loud and full.

探馬傳自太祖

諸勢可降可變

進攻退閃蒻生強

接短拳之至善

Tànmǎ chuán zì tài zǔ

zhū shì kě jiàng kě biàn

jìngōng tuì shǎn ruò shēng qiáng

jiē duǎn quán zhī zhì shàn

Testing Horse was Song TaiZu’s,

Stances all can drop and move,

Attacking and dodging will give you strength,*

Receive their punches in short range

拗單鞭黃花緊進

披挑腿左右難防

槍步上拳連劈揭

沉香勢推倒太山

Ǎo dān biān huánghuā jǐn jìn

pī tiāo tuǐ zuǒyòu nán fáng

qiāng bù shàng quán lián pī jiē

chénxiāng shì tuīdǎo tài shān

Crossed Single Whip firmly pries it’s way in,

When finding it hard from their kick to defend,

Rush in with continuous, liftings and chops,

Knock down Tai Mountain into low stances drop.

七星拳手足相顧

挨步逼上下隄籠

饒君手快腳如風

我自有攪衝劈重

Qīxīng quán shǒuzú xiānggù

āi bù bī shàngxià dī lóng

ráo jūn shǒukuài jiǎo rú fēng

wǒ zì yǒu jiǎo chōng pī zhòng

In The Seven Star Fist, the hand follows the feet,

Stepping in close, upper lower to beat,

The enemy limbs are fast like the wind,

My own heavy chops will disturb them to win.

倒騎龍詐輸佯走

誘追入遂我回衝

恁伊力猛硬來攻

怎當我連珠砲動

Dào qí lóng zhà shū yáng zǒu

yòu zhuīrù suì wǒ huí chōng

nèn yī lì měng yìng lái gōng

zěn dāng wǒ liánzhū pào dòng

Ride the Dragon Inverted to feign a defeat,

As they enter I turn and reveal my deceit.

His attack it is fierce his hits they are strong,

But my beating continues, he can’t last for long!

懸腳虛餌彼輕進

二換腿決不饒輕

趕上一掌滿天星

誰敢再來比亚

Xuán jiǎo xū ěr bǐ qīng jìn

èr huàn tuǐ jué bù ráo qīng

gǎn shàng yī zhǎng mǎn tiān xīng

shuí gǎn zài lái bǐ yǎ

Hang up the Leg as bait for a trick,

It’s not easy to follow when I switch it to kick,

My Palm makes him see the heaven and stars,

To fight me again, afraid all of them are.

丘劉左搬右掌

劈來腳入步連心

挪更拳法探馬均

打人一著命盡

Qiū liú zuǒ bānyòu zhǎng

pī lái jiǎo rù bù lián xīn

nuó gèng quánfǎ tànmǎ jūn

dǎ rén yīzhe mìng jǐn

Hill Attack changes left with a palm to the right,

They chop, I come in with a heart level strike,

Further I go with Testing the Horse,

With one hit I end them with just the right force.

下插勢專降快腿

得進步攪靠無別

鉤腳鎖臂不容離

上驚下取一跌

Xià chā shì zhuān jiàng kuài tuǐ

dé jìnbù jiǎo kào wú bié

gōu jiǎo suǒ pī bùróng lí

shàng jīng xià qǔ yī diē

Hidden Below drops down fast with the legs,

Step in and knock them down off a few pegs,

Hooking the foot and locking the arm,

Feint high, go low, trip and do harm.

10.

埋伏勢窩弓待虎

犯圈套寸步難移

就機連發幾腿

他受打必定昏危

Máifú shì wō gōng dài hǔ

fàn quāntào cùnbù nán yí

jiù jī lián fā jǐ tuǐ

tā shòu dǎ bìdìng hūn wēi

Lying in Wait for the beast in it’s den,

The inch step corrals them like they’re in a pen,

Continuously kick with the legs and the thighs,

Receiving a hit means they surely will die.

11.

拋架子槍步披掛

補上腿那怕他識

右橫左採快如飛

架一掌不知天地

Pāo jiàzi qiāng bù pīguà

bǔ shàng tuǐ nà pà tā shí

yòu héng zuǒ cǎi kuài rú fēi

jià yī zhǎng bùzhī tiāndì

Throwing Technique enters, splits and then hangs,

Take advantage with kicks fearing them seeing your plans,

Fly to the left across from the right,

Fend off with one palm and out go the lights!

12.

拈肘勢防他弄腿

我截短須認高低

劈打推壓要皆依

切勿手腳忙急

Niān zhǒu shì fáng tā nòng tuǐ

wǒ jié duǎn xū rèn gāodī

pī dǎ tuī yā yào jiē yī

qiè wù shǒujiǎo máng jí

Defend from their legs with Pluck the Elbow,

I intercept close watching high and then low,

Chopping and pushing and pressing you need,

To hit them not rushing your hands or your feet.

13.

一霎步隨機應變

左右腿衝敵連珠

恁伊勢固手風雷

怎當我閃驚巧取

Yīshà bù suíjīyìngbiàn

zuǒyòu tuǐ chōng dí liánzhū

nèn yīshì gù shǒu fēngléi

zěn dāng wǒ shǎn jīng qiǎo qǔ

Instant Step waits for the time it can change,

Kick with both legs when you come into range,

Their stances are solid, their hands like the wind,

Why accept the attack when I can dodge it to win?

14.

擒拿勢封腳套子

左右壓一如四平

直來拳逢我投活

恁快腿拳不得通融

Qínná shì fēng jiǎo tàozi

zuǒyòu yā yī rú sì píng

zhí lái quán féng wǒ tóu huó

nèn kuài tuǐ quán bùdé tōngróng

Grabbing and Seizing envelopes the foot,

Left and Right press Si Ping standing with root,

A straight punch comes in, lively I throw,

So that his kicks and his punches, they all are too slow.

15.

井欄四平直進

剪鐮踢膝當頭

滾穿劈靠抹一鈎

鐵樣將軍也走

Jǐng lán sìpíng zhíjìn

jiǎn lián tī xī dāngtóu

gǔn chuān pī kào mǒ yī gōu

tiě yàng jiāngjūn yě zǒ

Blocking the Well stance goes directly ahead,

Scissor their knee while blocking the head,

Roll, pierce, chop, lean, wipe off, and hook,

Armored Generals themselves to their cores will be shook.

16.

鬼蹴腳槍人先著

補前掃轉上紅拳

背弓顛披揭起

穿心肘靠妙難傳

Guǐ cù jiǎo qiāng rén xiānzhe

bǔ qián sǎo zhuǎn shàng hóng quán

bèi gōng diān pī jiē qǐ

chuān xīn zhǒu kào miào nán chuán

The Ghost Kick begins and shoots out toward them first,

Rush in, turn and hit them, their heart will then burst,

Stand with them on your back like a coat,

An elbow to the heart is no playful joke.

17.

指當勢是箇丁法

他難進我好向前

踢膝滾躦上面

急回步顛短紅拳

Zhǐ dāng shì shì gè dīng fǎ

tā nán jìn wǒ hǎo xiàng qián

tī xī gǔn cuó shàngmiàn

jí huí bù diān duǎn hóng quán

Directed Defense Stance has feet like a “T”,

My defenses make it hard to attack me freely,

Kick the knee, turn, and jump up to their face.

Fast Red Fist short range to show them their place.

18.

獸頭勢如牌挨進

恁快腳遇我慌忙

低驚高取他難防

接短披紅衝上

Shòu tóu shì rú pái āi jìn

nèn kuài jiǎo yù wǒ huāngmáng

dī jīng gāoqǔ tā nán fáng

jiē duǎn pīhóng chōng shàng

The Beast Head comes in if the opponent is near.

When we meet, my quick footwork will grip him with fear.

Feint low, go high, they cannot defend,

Receive his short chops and charge into them.

19.

中四平勢實推固

硬攻進快腿難來

雙手逼他單手

短打以熟為乖

Zhōng sìpíng shì shí tuī gù

yìng gōng jìn kuài tuǐ nán lái

shuāng shǒu bī tā dān shǒu

duǎn dǎ yǐ shú wèi guāi

Middle Siping is pushing with root,

Hard attacks and quick footwork are both rendered moot,

With two hands their one hand is quickly subdued,

A short hit from here is skillfully shrewd.

20.

伏虎勢側身弄腿

但來奏我前撐

看他立站不穩

後掃一跌分明

Fú hǔ shi cèshēn nòng tuǐ

dàn lái zòu wǒ qián chēng

kàn tā lì zhàn bù wěn

hòu sǎo yī diē fēnmíng

Subduing the Tiger leans back for a kick,

But, he returns my attack I must brace forward and quick.

I look and see that his stance is not steady,

I sweep him behind before he is ready.

21.

高四平身法活變

左右短出入如飛

逼敵人手足無措

恁我便腳踢拳捶

Gāo sìpíng shēn fǎ huó biàn

zuǒyòu duǎn chūrù rú fēi

bī dírén shǒuzúwúcuò

nèn wǒ biàn jiǎo tī quán chuí

High Siping method is agile and changes,

Like flying zig zag in and out of short ranges

Block the enemy limbs so they cannot attack.

My foot it may kick and the fist can beat back.

22.

倒插勢不與招架

靠腿快討他之贏

背弓進步莫遲停

打如谷聲相應

Dào chā shì bù yǔ zhāojià

kào tuǐ kuài tǎo tā zhī yíng

bèi gōng jìnbù mò chí tíng

dǎ rú gǔ shēng xiāngyìng

Inverting Thrust does not provoke with a guard,

With quick tripping legs their foundation bombard,

Stretch the back like a bow, step in with a dash,

The valley will echo with the hit’s sudden crash.

23.

神拳當面插下

進步火焰攢心

遇巧就拿就跌

舉手不得留情

Shén quán dāngmiàn chā xià

jìnbù huǒyàn cuán xīn

yù qiǎo jiù ná jiù diē

jǔ shǒu bùdé liúqíng

Spirit Fist blocks in front to invade down below,

Step in, gather fire, use your chest as bellows,

Meeting skill, simply seize them and make them fall down,

Raise your hand to prevent them from gaining new ground.

24.

一條鞭橫直披砍

兩進腿當面傷人

不怕他力粗膽大

我巧好打通神

Yītiáo biān héngzhí pī kǎn

liǎng jìn tuǐ dāngmiàn shāng rén

bùpà tā lì cū dǎn dà

wǒ qiǎo hǎo dǎtōng shén

One Lash hacks across and down,

Block their legs and face them down,

Fear not men who’s strength is crude,

They’ll talk with gods through my hits true.

25.

雀地龍下盤腿法

前揭起後進紅拳

他退我雖顛補

衝來短當休延

Què de lóng xià pántuǐ fǎ

qián jiē qǐ hòujìn hóng quán

tā tuì wǒ suī diān bǔ

chōng lái duǎn dāng xiū yán

Ground Dragon trains the legs to go low,

Lift them then enter with a heavy red blow,

They run from me, fine, I will still take the day,

Rushing in close to block, stop or delay.

26.

朝陽手偏身防腿

無縫鎖逼退豪英

倒陣勢彈他一腳

好教他師也喪身

Zhāoyáng shǒu piān shēn fāng tuǐ

wú fèng suǒ bī tuì háo yīng

dào zhènshì dàn tā yī jiǎo

hǎo jiào tā shī yě sāng shēn

The Hand of Dawn’s body slants defending from feet,

Seamlessly lock them to compel a retreat.

Knock Down the Pillar by quickly kicking their thigh,

Teach them so well, their own master will die.

27.

鷹翅側身挨進

快腿走不留停

追上穿莊一腿

要加剪劈推紅

Yīng chì cèshēn āi jìn

kuài tuǐ zǒu bù liú tíng

zhuī shàng chuān zhuāng yī tuǐ

yào jiā jiǎn pī tuī hóng

The Eagle’s Wing inclines in close,

Footwork fast and continuous,

Chase them down and kick through their base,

Chop, shear, and push you must keep the pace.

28.

跨虎勢那移發腳

要腿去不使他知

左右跟掃一連施

失手剪刀分易

Kuà hǔ shi nà yí fā jiǎo

yào tuǐ qù bù shǐ tā zhī

zuǒyòu gēn sǎo yīlián shī

shīshǒu jiǎndāo fēn yì

Ride the Tiger moves and kicks,

Hide your legs with subtle tricks,

Sweep your heel both left and right,

The hand can slice them like a knife.

29.

拗鸞肘出步顛剁

搬下掌摘打其心

拿鷹捉兔硬開弓

手腳必須相應

Ǎo luán zhǒu chū bù diān duò

bān xià zhǎng zhāi dǎ qí xīn

ná yīng zhuō tù yìng kāi gōng

shǒujiǎo bìxū xiāngyìng

The Crossed Phoenix Elbow steps out pounding to start,

Then fast going under to palm strike their heart,

Like an eagle with talons grab and tear them asunder,

Surely hand must unite with foot that is under.

30.

當頭炮勢衝入怕

進步虎直攛兩拳

他退閃我又顛踹

不跌倒他他忙然

Dāngtóu pào shì chōng rù pà

jìnbù hǔ zhí cuān liǎng quán

tā tuì shǎn wǒ yòu diān chuài

bù diédǎo tā tā máng rán

Block the Head Canon charges in with out fear,

Step in like a tiger, throw both fists like a spear,

When they dodge I will trip them and stomp them again,

Even if they don’t fall they must start again.

31.

順鸞肘靠身

搬打滾快他難遮攔

復外絞刷回拴

肚搭一跌誰敢爭先

Shùn luán zhǒu kào shēn

bān dǎgǔn kuài tā nán zhēlán

fù wài jiǎo shuā huí shuān

dù dā yī diē shuí gǎn zhēngxiān

Tame the Phoenix by leaning and use the elbow.

Move, strike, and roll, they have no where to go,

Return to the outside and twist them to bind,

Throw them down, to fight back they’d be out of their mind.

32.

旗鼓勢左右壓進

近他手橫劈雙行

絞靠跌人人識得

虎抱頭要躲無門

Qí gǔ shì zuǒyòu yā jìn

jìn tā shǒu héng pī shuāng xíng

jiǎo kào diē rén rén shí dé

hǔ bàotóu yào duǒ wú mén

Banners and Drums comes in to suppress,

Approaching them chopping like crossing the chest.

Everyone sees the throw with the twist,

Embracing the Tiger no way to resist.

End

A contemporary depiction of Qi Jiguang’s troops from the recent film, “God of War.”

Notes

* Readers may note that this is alternate translation of this passage and differs from the one discussed in the previous post. As previously noted, this is an evolving work and I am open to ideas and suggestions:

Testing Horse was Song TaiZu’s,

Stances all can drop and move,

Advance attack, retreat to dodge,

Come in close with a fist barrage.

oOo

About the Author: Chad Eisner is a martial arts practitioner and instructor in Ann Arbor Michigan, teaching Ma She Tongbei and Taiji Quan. His experience in Chinese martial arts and as a professional interpreter have naturally lead to a fascination with the translation of Ming dynasty martial arts texts. He is also the co-founder of Terra Prime Light Armory which uses historical based weapon arts to create lightsaber and fantasy martial arts for use in competition, performance, and learning.

oOo

References

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He, Yuming. Harvard-Yenching Institute Monograph Series. Vol. 82, Home and the World: Editing The “Glorious Ming” with Woodblock Printed Books of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Asia Center, 2013.

Kang, Gewu. The Spring and Autum of Chinese Martial Arts: 5000 years, first ed. Plum Pub, 1995.

Lorge, Peter Allan. Chinese Martial Arts: From Antiquity to the Twenty-First Century. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

_____________. War, Politics, and Society in Early Modern China, 900-1795. Warfare and History. London: Routledge, 2005.

Ma, Mingda馬明達. 無系列Wu Xi Lie. chu ban. ed. Vol. A113-A114, 武學探針Wu Xue Tan Zhen. Taibei Shi: Yi wen chu ban you xian gong si, 2003.

Mao, Yuanyi茅元億. 武備志Wu Bei Zhi. [China: s.n. ; not before, 1644] Map. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2004633695/.

Miracle, Jared. Now with Kung Fu Grip!: How Bodybuilders, Soldiers and a Hairdresser Reinvented Martial Arts for America. McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2016.

Qi, Jiguang戚繼光. Wu Shu Xi Lie武術系列. chu ban. ed. Vol. 6, Ji Xiao Xin Shu.績效新書 Tai bei shi: Wu zhou, 2000min 89.

Sawyer, Ralph D. The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China =: [wu Jing Qi Shu]. History and Warfare. Boulder: Westview Press, 1993.

Shapinsky, Peter D. Michigan Monograph Series in Japanese Studies. Vol. 76, Lords of the Sea: Pirates, Violence, and Commerce in Late Medieval Japan. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2014.

Tong, James. Disorder under Heaven: Collective Violence in the Ming Dynasty. Stanford University Press, 1991.

Wile, Douglas. T’ai-Chi’s Ancestors: The Making of an Internal Martial Art. New York: Sweet Chi, 1999.

Chinese Martial Arts in the News: Oct. 22 2018: Archery, Kung Fu Villages and the Lives of Detective Dee

Posted on 22 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Introduction

It has been a busy weekend, so this news update will be brief. Nevertheless, I wanted to comment on some of the more interesting stories that have been floating around. For new readers, this is a semi-regular feature here at Kung Fu Tea in which we review media stories that mention or affect the traditional fighting arts. In addition to discussing important events, this column also considers how the Asian hand combat systems are portrayed in the mainstream media.

While we try to summarize the major stories over the last month, there is always a chance that we may have missed something. If you are aware of an important news event relating to the TCMA, drop a link in the comments section below. If you know of a developing story that should be covered in the future feel free to send me an email.

Its been way too long since our last update so let’s get to the news!

News From All Over

I recently published an essay on Kung Fu Tea noting the importance of examining martial culture when trying to discern what is really happening in a given art or practice. Our first big news item really drives that point home. It starts off with a brief nod to the near extinction, and then spectacular resurrection, of traditional Chinese archery all within the space of a few decades. Of course, someone needs to be making all of the bows to supply a new generation of enthusiastic archers, and that too came very close to being lost.

In the 1950s and 60s, when the artisans of Beijing’s last seven bow-making workshops were reassigned to state collectives, a craft that had been practised for more than 3,000 years came to a sudden halt. By the mid-90s, all remaining bowyers had passed away, with the exception of Yang Wentong. Come his death, it was believed, all knowledge of traditional Han Chinese ox-horn bow making would be lost forever.

Obviously, there is a lot more to the story of the revival of China’s traditional archery. But I was still very happy to see an article (and video segment) like this in the South China Morning Post.

I was recently reading something by Paul Bowman in which he reviewed the ways that various newspapers in the UK have discussed the martial art over the years. I think that one of the phrases he applied to articles in the Daily Mail was “perpetual wide-eyed wonder.” That immediately popped into mind as I looked at their latest photo essay titled ‘Everybody was kung fu fighting’: Inside the Chinese village where all residents practise martial arts.

If memory serves we have heard about this village in Guangxi before. They seem to have some sort of communal (early morning and evening) martial arts training, but sadly this article never actually states the style. What we do get it is yet another variant of the burning of the Shaolin Temple myth, complete with a wandering survivor who takes up residence in the village, founding its current martial arts tradition. Good stuff!

A Chinese Kung Fu teacher visiting a school in Africa.

At first glance our next article appeared to be a boilerplate account of the sort of educational exchange program that governments frequently sponsor. Basically, a few dozen Chinese physical education instructors were sent to the USA to visit and observe how teaching was conducted in local classes. And of course they also taught some Kung Fu to the American kids. I was surprised that the style they introduced was Five Ancestors Fist, a very important southern school. Suddenly I want to hear more!

Senior woman doing Tai Chi exercise to keep her joints flexible, isolated.

Taijiquan was one of the big winners of the last news cycle. A couple of studies had come out on the practice’s ability to build strength in older students, and this unleashed a torrent of near identical articles in several outlets. My favorite was titled “Building Strength Through Tai Chi” in the Seattle Times.

Watching a group of people doing tai chi, an exercise often called “meditation in motion,” it may be hard to imagine that its slow, gentle, choreographed movements could actually make people stronger. Not only stronger mentally but stronger physically and healthier as well.

I certainly was surprised by its effects on strength, but good research — and there’s been a fair amount of it by now — doesn’t lie.

What caught my eye about this one is that the author is actually something of a skeptic. Rather than seeing Taijiquan as a progressive exercise that can be done at many levels of intensity, the assumption seems to be that it is useful only as a sort of remedial rehabilitation program for senior citizens who are looking to build the physical capital necessary for a more “strenuous” (western style) workout. Taijiquan gets a lot of good medical press these days, but this article made me stop and wonder how common these attitudes might be in certain corners of the medical profession. Not actually understanding much about the art in question, it would be difficult for such experts to visualize what it might do for a wider range of patients.

Speaking of senior citizens doing taijiquan, Netshark had a fun video of an “Auntie” who decided to release stress during an epic two hour Golden Week traffic jam by exiting her car and practicing her solo set. Can’t find time to train? Seriously kids, no excuses.

I wasn’t quite sure how to classify the next story. It touches on a number of topics including contemporary film, ancient Chinese history and 20th century crime novels. It turns out that Detective Dee has had many careers through the ages. This is a really good article to read if you are interested in the interplay between history and popular culture. And somehow it all ends up as a series of kung fu films. I personally found this to be one of the more surprising and enjoyable articles in this month’s review.

Quick, what is your favorite martial arts film? Now what are your top 50? If you are still working on that second question Newsweek has some suggestions. Incidentally Ip Man (2008) comes in at 35. If you want to find out what they chose as #1 you will need to read the article. In addition to the list, this piece also provides a capsule overview of the genre. It should be noted that they employ a rather loose definition of what counts as a “martial arts film.”

Collin Chou as Seraph in Matrix Reloaded.

Do you remember watching the the fight with Seraph (Collin Chou) in the first Matrix sequel? I do. It might have been my favorite fight sequence in that film. And it turns out that the film’s creator originally intended for it to be carried out by Jet Li, who was very interested in the part. But in a recent interview he went into more detail as to why he ultimately turned it down. It seems that the film’s producers were interested in capturing more than just his on screen performance. They were looking to use motion capture technology to digitally record Jet Li’s movements and build some sort of database.

“I realized the Americans wanted me to film for three months but be with the crew for nine,” Li recently mentioned during a Chinese talk show appearance. “And for six months, they wanted to record and copy all my moves into a digital library. By the end of the recording, the right to these moves would go to them.”

I thought this story was interesting as there are many projects (in the commercial, scholarly and non-profit sectors) that are digitally cataloging the movements of various martial arts masters. Some of these archives are used to produce films and video games, and other go into cultural institutions. Jet Li’s story is revealing as it illustrates some issues with what happens to all of this intellectual property. Are we simply recording for posterity something that is communally owned (an unchanging folk tradition)? Or are we instead attempting to capture a effervescent moment of performance by an individual artist who holds a unique IP claim to their own interpretation of the work. Li seems to have decided that the situation was more the latter and, in his case, walked away from the film. This story is all just a footnote in the history of the Matrix, but it raises interesting ethical and theoretical questions for students of martial arts studies.

So long as we are on the subject of film, I should mention that there is one upcoming movie that I very much want to see. The central premise of the “Kung Fu League” is a fantasy team-up between some of the genera’s greatest characters, Wong Fei Hung, Huo Yuan Jia, Ip Man and Chen Zhen. Clearly its a gimmick, but I am genuinely interested to see how figures from different eras and niches within the kung fu universe are made to address each other. This seems like the perfect time for some inter-textual comedy and reflection on the development of the genre. It will be interesting to see what the director ultimately does with it.

The next couple of stories step back from an exclusive focus on the Chinese martial arts. Our first piece is a discussion in the Japan Times of Alexander Bennett’s latest book, Japan: The Ultimate Samurai Guide. Or maybe it should really be titled “an insider’s guide to surviving in the world of the Japanese martial arts.”

You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn’t, at least momentarily, considered joining a martial arts club upon moving to Japan. However, comparatively few actually take the plunge. One of the biggest hurdles is that clubs can seem to be worlds unto themselves, inaccessible to non-Japanese, even those with fluency in the language. Knowing where to start, especially if you have no previous martial arts experience also puts up barriers: Which is the right martial art for you? What should you look for in a teacher? How can you hope to compete when everyone in the club already seems to have a black belt?

This is where “Japan The Ultimate Samurai Guide,” authored by longtime kendo practitioner Alexander Bennett, hopes to step in, providing answers to some of these questions from the perspective of an insider. The book is part encyclopedia of martial arts — a historical resource tracking the evolution of Japanese martial arts over the last millennium — and part present-day guide to surviving in the world of budō and, more generally, in Japan.

This all sounds very interesting. I really enjoyed Bennett’s work on the history of Kendo, and he is well positioned to write a popular yet highly informed guide to the wider world of Japanese martial arts. I suspect that this one will end up on my Christmas list.

Me leading a break out group of students through a lightsaber set at Ithaca Sabers.

And now for a few stories touching on one of my personal research areas which seems to be getting a lot more exposure in the news lately. First off, a local TV channel visited the lightsaber class that I run here in Ithaca. You never know how these things will go, but I thought that the final story came out quite nicely. Are you interested in what lightsaber combat might look like if approached as a traditional martial art? If so you can check out the full story here.

Of course, that is not the only version of lightsaber combat that you will find. Lots of people get into the practice because they are looking for a fast paced combat sport where they don’t have to invest years in martial arts training to do something that they enjoy. This recent report on the Nerdist followed one individual’s journey to a “full contact” saber tournament held in Las Vegas (where else). Its actually quite an interesting piece as it visits a few different corners of the “combat sport” side of the lightsaber community.

An assortment of Chinese teas. Source: Wikimedia.

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

A lot has happened on the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group over the last month. We looked at antique weapons, pontificated about the value of seminars, and learned what happens when Capoeira meets Kung Fu! Joining the Facebook group is also a great way of keeping up with everything that is happening here at Kung Fu Tea.

If its been a while since your last visit, head on over and see what you have been missing!

Who “Killed” Kung Fu: Habermas and the Legitimization Crisis within Traditional Martial Arts

Posted on 19 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

“A Sword Fight.” 1917, magic lantern slide showing Wang Wen-lin and Wang Shhh-Ching. Source: The Digital Collections of Springfield College.

Zombies

The air is distinctly crisp, the end of October is upon us, and Halloween rapidly approaches. Clearly, it is time to talk about zombies. We seem to go through periods of collective fascination with the image of empty human husks shambling across a barren landscape, neither truly alive or dead. These monsters fascinate us not because of their cunning or strength. Taken one at a time they are incapable of accomplishing any goal. Their only defining characteristic is a paradoxical immunity to death. They just keep walking across the historical landscape.

Jurgen Habermas had a lot to say about zombies though, to the best of my knowledge he never used the term. Rather than the Walking Dead on the outskirts of Atlanta, he was more concerned with the sorts of failed states that sometimes appeared on the historical stage. In his writing on the “Legitimization Crisis” (1973) he noted that the loss of popular support didn’t always result in revolution or state collapse. Instead one often encountered a situation where the institutions of government continued to amble along (often for an improbable length of time), and yet found themselves unable to effectively call on society’s resources to accomplish their core political goals. The government had clearly lost its authority, yet no replacement could be seen on the horizon.

Both a social theorist and public intellectual, Habermas is one of the great thinkers of the 20^thcentury. This does not mean that his work has been universally accepted. He famously clashed with Derrida, and Habermas wrote a widely cited essay in the early 1980s taking aim at the excesses of post-modern thought. Still, as the Western democracies approach a critical historical crossroads while gripped by social and political paralysis, it’s hard to see his work on the origin and nature of the legitimization crisis as anything other than prophetic.

To oversimplify, Habermas began by asking students to think carefully about how authority emerges and functions within a social system. Such systems are composed of the governmental institutions (both formal and informal) that wield authority, socio-cultural considerations (values, identities, norms, etc) and economic exchanges (who gets what resource). In a well-functioning social system it may not be necessary to split out these various realms as they will tend to blend into one another, supported by overarching social discourses. Individual values will uphold political authority, as will economic markets.

Issues arise when competing discourses emerge and the fractures between these realms become more pronounced. Or we might imagine them as being constructed or reconstructed by a new set of competitive discourses. More specifically, a “crisis of legitimacy” erupts when citizens cease to believe that a political system reflects their socio-cultural values, or that the old values that it is based on continue to have utilitarian (political/economic) value. In this instance their “life world” (lebenswelt) ruptures. One would hope that the political system would adapt to the new reality, but that is never the only possibility. It might rupture into competing factions (civil wars) or simply shamble along as a failed state, incapable of drawing on the creative resources of society.

That brings us back to the zombies. One does not have to watch the news for very long to realize that modern nation states are not the only institutions that can suffer this fate. Indeed, we are increasingly surrounded by all sorts of economic and cultural institutions who have been crippled by rapid social change. If I were to level a single criticism at Habermas it would be that he drew the boundaries of his discussion of the legitimization crisis much too narrowly, focusing primarily on states. Historical investigation would seem to support the hypothesis that all sorts of other social values and cultural institutions must fall into crisis before the nation-state (typically a very resilient entity) is imperiled. Thus, for the logic of Habermas to be true at the macro level (something that is hard to empirically test) it must first hold true at the at the micro level (which is more easily observed).

Admittedly, such a project would explicitly contradict Habermas’ avowed goal to re-establish “grand theory” as a valued realm distinct from the plebeian world of “empirical testing.” I personally have always been a bit suspicious of “grand theory,” probably because it is not very helpful when one is attempting to write local history. In any event, good theories should be portable, and all sorts of “life worlds” (including the martial arts) could be thought of as possessing governing structures, social/cultural values and mechanisms of economic exchange. In fact, one would be hard pressed to come up with a more apt description of the social structure of traditional martial arts communities.

A detailed look at a pair of Shuang Gau. This is pair measures 95 cm in length and may be of a similar vintage to the swords seen in these images. Source: http://www.swordsantiqueweapons.com/s1015_full.html

Who Killed Kung Fu?

It is not difficult to perceive the signs of a legitimization crisis within the traditional martial arts. Class enrollments are down almost across the board and many schools struggle to stay open. Traditional styles are openly derided in one-sided contests with MMA or Muay Thai stylists on social media. There even seems to be fewer martial arts movies.

Yet not all of the trends are easily interpreted. There is more high quality popular, and even academic, publishing on these systems being produced and consumed than ever before. Judged by the quality of the information we have access to, we are living in the golden age of kung fu scholarship. Yet popular magazines are struggling. While the potential market for information on the traditional martial arts is expanding in terms of the number of serious readers, its dollar value has radically diminished. While this trend has hurt traditional publishers and book sellers, more small scale “prosumers” are putting out content (typically on Youtube or Facebook) than ever before.

The general state of affairs might best be summed up as one of confusion. The leading traditional forces that have structured the Chinese martial arts community still exist. We still have large lineage-based schools. There are a number of stylistic and regional associations, as well as commercial producers of both books and training gear. Yet they all seem unable to lead the community toward a meaningful revitalization effort. In the mean-time, large numbers of students adopt unorthodox modes of practices or simply leave the martial arts all together.

As with zombies, I am not aware that Habermas ever mentioned the martial arts community. Yet if he did, I suspect that he would not be surprised by the general state of affairs. Drawing on the more sociological aspects of his work, I he would note our situation is particularly complicated as we face a legitimization crisis on not one, but two, fronts. Further, these two sources of tension might interact with each other in complicated ways. All of this, in turn, stems from a change in the cost of communication, making transformative contact between people much less expensive than it had been. Yet to see how a change in one social variable (the price of communication) might lead to two slightly different types of legitimization crises, we first need to revisit the last era of major social/political realignment within the Chinese martial arts.

During the Republic period internal communication within China was relatively expensive. Even the Chinese government, which dedicated substantial resources to the project, found it practically impossible to transmit its point of view on critical diplomatic issues to citizens in Western countries. In this sort of situation, effective communication required a sponsor with substantial resources. This forced the Chinese martial arts into alliances with various political actors. Traditionally these had either been the Imperial military, or local social elites who needed to maintain a degree of order within their own village, marketplace or clan. As such, Chinese martial arts networks derived their legitimacy from their relationship with regional or clan based identities. At the risk of vastly oversimplifying a complicated situation, it was their tight alignment with these narrow forces that gave them access to (and legitimacy within) local communities.

None of this was particularly helpful to the wave of national reformers who came to power after 1911. Seeing the importance of budo in the creation of a cohesive and modern Japanese state, they wished to do something similar in China. Yet that required talking and thinking about the martial arts in a fundamentally different way. What had been particularistic and local now needed to be universal and open. Whereas local elites had benefited from their relationship with martial arts societies, these allegiances needed to be transferred to the national level.

A variety of new institutions were created to do just that. Formal establishments like the New Wushu and Guoshu movements sought to give the state direct control over the organization of local martial arts societies. Other reformers (such as the Jingwu movement, and much of the Taijiquan community) favored a less statist (but equally nationalist) strategy in which universal creation myths were promoted and “lineage” communities that may have once been very local were reimagined as being national in scope.

It should be remembered that this new vision of the Chinese martial arts did not emerge in a vacuum. Rather, it was the result of a sophisticated debate on what the “new China” should be. Nor was the victory of these views immediate or even total. A full blown legitimization crisis emerged within the Chinese martial arts. The Guoshu program looked very powerful on paper, but most of China’s local martial artists simply ignored its tournaments and directives as they did not directly address their values or local needs. Worse yet, many intellectuals within the May 4^thmovement openly derided its goals and methods. The result was a long legitimization dispute which Jon Nielson and I described in our book.

Yet from this transformation arose the system of allotting “authority” within the traditional Chinese martial arts that most of us now take for granted. A system of dual legitimization was created. Formal political institutions (first Guoshu, and later Wushu) claimed legitimacy through their adherence to scientific and modernizing principals which placed the martial arts at the disposal of the state. This became the dominant way in which the Chinese martial arts were legitimated within the PRC. In this case the “political element” of the community was a set of actual formal institutions answerable to the government. Outside of that realm, a new set of “traditions” were made available to national, and then universal, communities. Regardless of your location or country of birth, one could experience some aspect of the Chinese nation by studying in any one of these open, commercial, schools. They reconfigured China’s traditional folk arts in such a way that they were now available to students anywhere in the world. This social system gained dominance in Taiwan, the South East Asian diaspora and the West.

A “Sword Dancer” by Hadda Morrison. Source: Harvard Digital Archives.

Recent changes within the Western social realm have created a new set of challenges for this second mode of legitimization. The rise of a renewed emphasis on empirical verification in many places in Western society during the 1970s-1990s posed a direct challenge to all sorts of “arguments by authority”. One of the places that we can see this playing out is in an erosion of public trust in all sorts of “expert” bodies. The decline of traditional religious communities might be another place (though here we must also account for the modernization and related secularization hypotheses).

Rather than allowing either the nation or “tradition” to arbitrate what techniques were effective (and therefore legitmate), a new generation of martial artists, not culturally beholden to the norms of the previous systems, advocated putting such practices to the test. This tendency has long been present in the West. Indeed, we can even see it in Bruce Lee’s writings in the 1970s. Yet by the 1990s this was increasingly the dominant current of thought which would give rise to practices like the Mixed Martial Arts.

It is critical to realize that the traditional arts involved in these disputes are in crisis not simply because they often lose in Youtube challenge matches. Being repeatedly pummeled in viral videos certainly doesn’t help their cause. Yet even if they were to win there would still be an almost identical crisis of legitimacy as the older generation of Masters (who hold the keys of “tradition”) no longer have the ability to determine when violent conflict is publicly allowed and how it will be socially interpreted. Under these circumstances even a win represents a loss of standing for the traditional faction as it suggests that young fighters training under “scientific conditions” can succeed largely without their blessing.

I was recently part of an (extended) conversation that illustrated this situation quite nicely. It began when I was chatting with a Wing Chun instructor of my own generation about the state of the art today. While others take a dim view of “kids these days,” he has a cheerful disposition and is something of an optimist. He is also an outspoken advocate of placing non-cooperative sparring (often with people from outside your style) at the center of serious Wing Chun training.

Needless to say, doing so tends to have a definite effect on one’s body structure. You can still apply Wing Chun concepts to most competitive sparring sessions, but it doesn’t look like a sticky hands drills. Nor does it look like anything you would see in the unarmed forms (unless you really knew what you were looking for). In fact, my own Sifu (who also engaged in some similar practices) often told me that in actual combat my fighting should not look like Wing Chun. I shouldn’t necessarily appear to have any style at all. My movements should just appear to be clean and effective.

As more and more Wing Chun students start to spar at local “open mat nights,” my friend was happy to note that he could see visible changes within the physical culture (perhaps the “habitus”) of the younger generation of students. At least that was his opinion. He noted that the tactical and athletic issues facing students today are vastly different than sixty years ago when Ip Man (who, for the record, was also an innovator) began to teach in Hong Kong. Our approach to the art needs to adapt just as his did.

This opinion was not shared by an older instructor in the same field who I had spoken with some time earlier. Sparring, especially with random individuals from outside one’s style, was a problem in his view. It led to students becoming “confused.” What the younger sifu saw as an “effective defense” in a practical situation, he perceived only as sloppy and ill informed. Indeed, he proclaimed that this wasn’t kung fu at all. Mirroring a criticism I have heard dozens of other times, he decried such sparring as “mere kickboxing,” and proclaimed that in fact no actual martial art was being practiced. In his view, if one’s Wing Chun did not look the same in a fight as in the training hall, it wasn’t Wing Chun at all. Nor was he willing to concede that modern combat sports (such as boxing, kickboxing or MMA) might be “authentic” martial arts that also required huge amounts of dedication and training.

Beyond merely being a difference of opinions, it is also worth noting that these instructors drew their personal authority from very different sources. The more senior instructor leaned heavily (as one might guess) on tradition and lineage as a source of authority. The younger coach based the legitimacy of his views in large part on the success of his students in many local mixed style tournaments. In the social world of the older Sifu, only the authorized guardians of tradition were able to judge if something met the criteria of “good” Wing Chun. But in a public boxing match, anyone can add up the points on the score card at the end of a fight.

The real threat to traditional modes of legitimization within this particular community is not that the younger Sifu’s students might be seen losing a fight on Youtube. Authorities have always found it easy to explain away “dissidents with bad attitudes” when they lose. The actual crisis occurs when more modern interpretations of Wing Chun are seen to publicly win, providing an alternative framework for judging the legitimacy of someone’s training practice.

Beyond this we must also consider the economic basis of these arts. Who can teach, and who can profit, from the dissemination of knowledge? While related to the issue of authority, movement in this area can also trigger a distinct set of legitimization crises.

In a 2014 paper, Adam Frank looked at the issue of “family secrets” in one Taiji community regarding who was authorized to benefit from teaching or withholding this information. When this community had few contacts outside of China, and little opportunity to benefit from lucrative teaching positions in Europe and North America, there was less concern as to who taught this material. Once the international profile of the school began to rise, a reconsolidation occurred in which some previously authorized teachers were marginalized within the community, thus reassigning the “right” to teach the complete art to a smaller number of “family members.”

Students of Martial Arts Studies are free to have a variety of opinions about this, and all sorts of values are implicated in the story that Frank lays out. Yet from Habermas’ perspective, such an outcome was not unexpected. One would naturally expect that the economic aspect of how benefits are apportioned within the community to match the “political” dimension of how authority is defined. In a stable social system those who are widely perceived as the legitimate teachers should be the one’s to economically benefit from the spread of the community. This would provide them with an incentive to make sure that the system perpetuates itself.

Yet these bearers of tradition are not challenged only by shifts in social/cultural values. The radical decrease in the cost of communication has impaired their ability to monetize their authority, even in areas of the community that share their values. Selling books and magazine articles was, in the past, a critical aspect of building a strong community. From the 1970s-1990s it allowed leaders to both profit from their teaching while ensuring that their understanding of a system’s values and techniques remained hegemonic. Again, in a stable social system the political, economic and social discourses reinforce one another.

The rise of social media dealt a serious blow to the martial arts publishing industry. In its place we now have an explosion of Youtube channels in which the very same senior students and junior instructors (and sometimes simply random class members) who would have previously been the core consumers of centrally distributed materials, are now producing their own instructional content.

This is an important phenomenon as it reflects a shift in the values within the underlying social system. It is easy to criticize the uneven quality of much of this free material, but even a sceptic must stand back and admire the sheer volume of information that is now being produced. While in a previous generation one might have defined their identity (at least in part) by the sorts of media that one bought and consumed, individuals now make similar judgements based on what they produce and disseminate. In the age of the “prosumer” (or producer/consumer), broadcasting your views on Wing Chun has become a valid way of performing one’s membership in this community. Needless to say, this explosion of free communication has made it nearly impossible for the guardians of tradition to dominate the economic exploitation of the art.

Indeed, many of the most profitable and fastest growing areas within the TCMA seem to be the most marginal. The announcement of newly discovered lineages, weapon sparring leagues, or attempts to “rediscover” lost arts through the interpretation of historical texts all elicit excitement. And at least some of these things should. Yet in some respects they all diminish the center’s ability to monetize its claims to traditional, lineage based, authority.

A photograph (probably 1930s) showing a marketplace martial arts demonstration. Note the Shuang Gau led by the man on the left. Source: The personal collection of Benjamin Judkins

The Stakes

So how does it all end? Within the popular press we are frequently treated to dire predictions about the death of kung fu. I think it is worth remembering that the martial art have suffered other legitimization crises in the not so distant past and they are still very much with us today. Indeed, a brewing crisis seems to be exactly what opens to the door to “political change” (in the sense that Habermas used the term) within a social system.

Perhaps the most obvious possibility is that the utilitarian and empirical values that are widely held by practitioners of the various arts come to be written into our collective understanding of their “traditional” identity. Given that these notions of “tradition” were almost entirely socially constructed in the 1920s-1950s, that may be less difficult than one might at first glance suppose. Indeed, if you carefully read the front-matter of many of martial arts books produced between the 1910s and the 1940s you will discover that in point of fact the martial artists of the Republican period can provide a lot of ideological cover for today’s rationalizers and modernizers. Alternatively, a shift in our current social values might lead Western consumers back towards a more community focused appreciation of the martial arts at some point. These sorts of trends are very difficult to predict in the long run.

A less pleasant possibility, however, is increasing schism. The issues in these disputes are not merely ones of style or effectiveness. While those points may be debated, more fundamental questions about our core social values and identities are clearly implicated in all of this. How do we know good kung fu when we see it, and who is allowed to make that determination? As Paul Bowman noted, the gap between traditional modes of establishing authority, and those favored by either utilitarian norms or academic training (in the case of historical debates), is unlikely to be bridged. It is when a substantial segment of the community increasingly tunes out, or simply walks away, that we see the emergence of zombie institutions. They continue to shamble along, but with no real ability to draw on the resources of their members or to respond to their essential demands. It remains to be seen how all of this will play out in the current era, but like the younger Sifu discussed above, I remain optimistic.

oOo

If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: Reflections on the Long Pole: History, Technique and Embodiment

oOo

Salvaging History and Saving the Martial Arts

Posted on 15 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Hong Kong harbor at night. Source: Wikimedia.

This weekend has been a blur of activity. Friday evening was consumed by the first “open mat” sparring night at the Central Lightsaber Academy (which was a blast), Saturday was devoted to a day-long seminar on Sicilian knife fighting (a grimmer vision of weapons training), and about half of Sunday was spent helping out with the Autumn open-house at another martial arts school here in Ithaca. I have barely had time to upload my photos and draft out some quick field-notes.

Still, a nagging feeling emerged as I began to meditate on these very different events. While I have not had time to fully develop these ideas, I thought that it might be helpful to write down a few of my impressions. The golden thread uniting and giving meaning to each of the activities seemed to be a “hidden” discussion on the problems of transmission and market viability within the martial arts.

Or maybe that is not entirely correct. The discussion happened openly in the second event. I hope to write a fuller account of the Sicilian knife seminar led by Sifu John Crescione in a future post. But from a social scientific perspective, one of the more interesting things that came up was a debate as to whether it would really just be better to let this art die out. Granted, no one in the room thought that this was a good idea, but Sifu Crescione noted that many of the “old timers” back in Sicily who had learned and studied practical knife fighting as a family based “combative practice” saw no point in taking on students or promoting themselves within the current revival of the Italian martial arts. For them, knife fighting was a direct response to a violent environment and teaching strangers better ways to kill each other was not a wise course of action. If a changing world no longer required these skills, so much the better.

For other instructors, Sicilian knife fighting’s true value was found in areas outside prison yards and narrow alleys. It could give individuals a chance to reconnect (and even re-imagine) their heritage. Acting as an intermediary between the “old master” and interested foreign students might open social and economic pathways for a more professionalized generation of instructors. Finally, there is a very exciting renaissance in all sorts of traditional Italian martial arts (including stick, knife and sword), and these skills have a special historical and cultural value within that context.

The complex dialectic relationship between regional identity and more universal notions of understanding national identity is one of the things that I find most interesting about this area. Yet equally important is the emergence of a thoughtful conversation seeking to tackle the relationship between martial practice and violence in a changing social environment. How a given master of the art defined the relevant community (his family, his city, a national organization, a global network) has an important impact on how they understand the future of the art.

These conversations are far from unique. They are happening in many places within the martial arts world. Consider the reoccurring debates as to whether the traditional Asian arts are dying in the West (and the East too for that matter). I note that these debate(s) happen in the plural since I am aware of written discussions of this topic dating back to the 16th century, roughly 300 years before the Chinese martial arts as most of us know them came into being. More recently, this was a popular topic in the 1910s, the 1920s, the 1940s, 1950s and the 1970s (post-Cultural Revolution in the PRC). The Chinese martial arts seem to exist in a state of a perpetual revival and re-invention, and the desire to “save” them is one of the motivations driving them into the future. I suspect that social elites within the Chinese martial arts community understand this, and that is why they so often push the narrative that kung fu is dying. Nothing brings a community together quite like the threat of extinction.

Still, knowledgeable critics might point out that, “this time it is different.” The rise of modern combat sports (such as MMA or competitive BJJ) has sapped the traditional arts of their air of invincibility. As a result, it is harder to make the argument that these practices are “cool” no matter how many times Bruce Lee’s image finds itself on a magazine cover. Still, boxing was a mainstay of American sporting life in the 1960s and 1970s, just when the martial arts were coming into vogue. And a quick review of the humor of that same period leads me to suspect that most people never viewed karate or judo as infallible.

A more serious problem might be the current real estate market. Old buildings are being redeveloped and rents are high. Gentrification is a problem in many cities. All of this has proved problematic for many martial arts schools and gyms. In my own research I have seen multiple schools lose their locations in an area of the country where real estate prices are relatively stable. In global cities like Hong Kong and Guangzhou (the home of the southern Chinese martial arts) the combination of declining student enrollment and skyrocketing real estate values have created a true crisis. That is an empirical fact.

When looking at cities like Hong Kong, New York or London, land is the one thing that they just aren’t making any more of. While many martial arts can be trained with minimal equipment, they all need space (more so if one practices with weapons). So maybe this time it really is different?

Which brings me to another one of my weekend activities, the open house that I was tapped to help-out with at a local school here in Ithaca. To be honest, I thought that there probably wouldn’t be much for me to do. It was one of those spectacular October days that comes too rarely. Who wants to spend their afternoon learning about the new class schedules when you could be outside taking in the fall leaves?

To my surprise the answer turned out to be about a hundred people. The school was so packed with potential students that one needed excellent kung fu just to make it to the cheese platters. One would never guess that the martial arts were “dying” as you surveyed this sea of humanity. Many of the institution’s current students were hard at work chatting up potential recruits for the school’s various classes.

That last detail, the multitude of the classes offered, is probably the critical part of this story. While this particular school has some very solid Asian martial arts (Silat, JKD, various types of kickboxing), it also offers a wide range of other fitness and martial arts training. Various types of strength and conditioning classes are offered, as is a vibrant after school program for kids. A local BJJ teacher rents space there, as do more yoga and Pilates instructors than I can keep track of.

I am sure that many of you are familiar with schools that use this sort of business model. Yes, real estate prices are high. But the class rooms in this building see very little down time. The end result is that rather than competing, the various types of modern and traditional martial arts, combative classes and fitness’s groups, actually end up subsidizing each other.

This isn’t to say that there is anything easy about running a school that looks like this, or that the strategy always succeeds. I have even heard some instructors criticize these sorts of arrangements as “selling out,” seeing them as sign of decay from the situation in the 1980s or 1990s where every class or style might maintain its own storefront and absolute sovereignty. But what if we looked just a bit further back in time? What might we discover about the “good old days?”

A quiet neighborhood in Hong Kong. Source: Photo by Russell Judkins.

As I milled around the packed open-house I found myself thinking about Alberto Biraghi’s memoir a Hung Ga Story: Me and Master Chan Hon Chung. This was a bit of a surprise as Hung Ga was one of the few arts that was notable by its absence at this event. But something about the turnout, and the relationships I saw between people within the crowd, reminded me very strongly of Biraghi’s account (which I have previously reviewed here).

Once again, the problem was real estate. This is not the first era in which this has become an issue within the Chinese martial arts. In truth, it has never been particularly easy to run a kung fu school in Hong Kong. Most Sifus during the 1970s did so by teaching in the evenings in their own apartments after all of the furniture was cleared out of the way. That is a reality that is often overlooked in all of the discussion of “roof top schools.”

The basic issue was that Hong Kong was already a densely crowded place in the late 1940s. The waves of refugees that poured in during the early 1950s, and then again in the 1960s, filled the city to a bursting point. Rents were high in comparison to wages, and if one was lucky enough to own a building, or a group of apartments, it wasn’t clear that running a martial arts school offered the best return on one’s investment (even in a period where the martial arts were relatively popular).

Biraghi provides a fascinating account of his various stays in Hong Kong during the 1970s, and his narrative offers insight into how instructors navigated these harsh economic realities. What became evident as I read his account was that his teacher’s social standing in the neighborhood was not simply a result of his title of Sifu. Or rather, much more went into that title than simply running a martial arts school. It certainly helped that he controlled access to real estate in his building.

Chan Hon Chung’s property was full of a wide variety of small businesses, all renting space from him, and all contributing to the fabric of the local neighborhood. Yes, kung fu was more popular in the 1970s than today. Yet in this case, it still benefited from being subsidized by an entire web of economic and social relationships, many of which might have been only dimly visible to visitors coming to the martial arts school. The respect that Chan commanded as a “Sifu” was a reflection of this wider social reality which transcended his technical function as “only” a martial arts teacher, or “only” a landlord. He opened a space where an economic and social community could exist.

When viewed from this perspective, the Ithaca open house seems less novel or “post-modern.” Martial arts schools have always been forced to deal with fundamental economic realities. Sometimes a recession leaves lots of empty commercial real estate (e.g., the early 1980s), and one model school organization is possible. In other periods real estate is relatively expensive and other modes of economic organization are necessary.

In either case, martial arts schools succeed through the act of community building. They must build a compelling internal community for their own students, but also reach out and find a place in the broader neighborhood (where future students will come from). In this respect it was interesting to note that the Ithaca school which I visited, and the Hong Kong establishment of the 1970s, came to slightly different solutions. Reflecting the shop-based small scale manufacturing model of the time, Chan rented to businesses in a variety of different sectors of the economy.

In a modern consumer and service-based economy, my local school has instead specialized in a single sector (fitness and physical culture). Its secret seems to be that it provides a range of classes designed to appeal to every member of a family, or various individuals in a group of college-aged friends. There is an after-school program for the kids, a yoga class for mom, and a JKD study group for teens. In that way it has become a “one stop shop” for an entire neighborhood. Indeed, orienting its core identity around a neighborhood rather than just one style seems to be working out quite nicely. But I doubt that this success would have come as much of a surprise to Chan.

This brings us to a critical question about history. What is the purpose of writing and reading martial arts history? For many martial artists the answer seems to come down to authenticity. We seek to legitimate our personal practice (at least in our own minds) by finding evidence that we are indeed part of a vast chain of practices crossing national and temporal boundaries.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with establishing a sense of belonging. Still, this exercise always makes me a bit nervous as it leads us to read our own practices and conceptual understanding backwards in time. In so doing we can more easily see our own reflections, but we lose sight of the actual subjects of our initial fascination. On some level we must take seriously the warning that the past is a foreign country, and people did things differently there. What we gain by studying history is an appreciation for the vast complexity of the human experience.

Yet this discussion suggests that something else may be possible. While there is rarely a one-to-one correlation, I don’t think anyone disputes that past innovation impacts current practice. In that sense a style’s history is a bit like its DNA. Not in a simple a deterministic sense, but rather as a repository for a wide variety of potential behaviors and strategies, most of which lay dormant and forgotten at any moment in time. Rather than tell us who we are, or what we must be in the future, history reminds us that tree of human experiences branches radically in both directions. Below us as roots drawing from the past, and above us as branches reaching rhizomatically to the future.

The nature of life is that things must change. In every generation we must determine whether our communities will live on, which practices will be preserved, and how they will be developed. While our myths about the past may inspire us, I suspect that it is within those forgotten and “dormant” corners of our historical DNA that we will find the clues necessary to navigate a complex future.

oOo

If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to read: A Tale of Two Challenge Fights – Or, Writing Better Martial Arts History

oOo

NIMBLENESS BOXING (JIE QUAN)

Posted on 14 Ottobre 2018 by Paul Brennan

–

捷拳圖說
A HANDBOOK FOR NIMBLENESS BOXING
傅秀山
by Fu Xiushan
[1930]

[translation by Paul Brennan, Oct, 2018]

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傅秀山編
by Fu Xiushan:
捷拳圖說
A Handbook for Nimbleness Boxing
馬公愚題
– calligraphy by Ma Gongyu

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國術真魂
The true soul of martial arts!
李景林題
– calligraphy by Li Jinglin

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禹城傅秀山著述
by Fu Xiushan of Yucheng:
㨗拳
Nimbleness Boxing
于右任
– [calligraphy by] Yu Youren

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國技導師
Martial arts leadership!
陳嘉祐題
– calligraphy by Chen Jiayou

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發揚國光
Promoting our national glory!
許世英題
中華民國十八年雙十節
– calligraphy by Xu Shiying, National Day, Oct 10, 1929

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秀山先生属題
for Xiushan:
技進乎道
“Skill brings us closer to the Way.”
楚之熙
– calligraphy by Chu Zhixi

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神乎斯技
How wondrous this art is!
明州朱霞天題
– calligraphy by Zhu Xiatian of Mingzhou [old name for Ningbo]

–

傅秀山先生小影
Portrait of Fu Xiushan:

–

序
PREFACE

我中華國於亞洲。具五千年之歷史文化。本宜强逾歐美。稱雄寰宇也。然今日竟淪於次殖民地地位。可勝痛哉。溯本窮源。雖由科學幼稚。工商不振。教育不能普及。內亂未克敉平。而構成此內政失修外侮日亟之局勢。然全民衆忽視體育。沿襲重文輕武之惡習。而養成今日萎靡不振奄奄垂斃之多數病夫。實為我中華民族衰老之絕大原因也。我國上古。本重體育。如干戈弓矢之屬。撲擊拳勇之技。無不家喻戶曉。降至近世。火器發明。拳術遂廢棄湮沒而無聞。殊不知國術之為用。可使弱者强。夭者壽。病者痊。頽唐萎靡者。可使剛毅果敢。其直接間接影響於社會國家。不亦深且鉅哉。禹城傅秀山先生。國術專家也。本其健身强國之旨。研究國術。歷數十年如一日。其武藝之精通。技術之超卓。早已蜚聲全國。無待贅言。尤能力事提倡。誨人不倦。茲本生平研究之心得。歷經名師之指導。編纂是書。個中祕訣。闡發無餘。盡道人所不能道。生龍活虎。蹤躍奔騰。種種精奧。一一筆而出之。掃盡前人不公開之惡習。書成之日。行見紙貴洛陽。爭覩為快。其有裨國術前途。寧有涯涘耶。
中華民國十八年十二月三十日山左諶祖安序於上海國術比賽大會
Our Chinese nation has tallied up five thousand years of history and culture in Asia. This greatly exceeds Europe and America, and yet they are considered to be dominant over the whole world whereas we are nowadays relegated to the position of an inferior people. This is truly unbearable. Tracing back to the source of this problem, our scientific understanding is at a childish level, and thus industry has not grown, education has not spread, and we continue to have unquellable domestic strife, putting us in our situation of both internal disorder and external threat from Japan. And yet the masses ignore physical education, carrying on the old evil of valuing only intellectual pursuits and trivializing martial affairs, thereby generating our current state of being countless lethargic feeble “sick men”. Surely this is the cause of the frailty of the Chinese people.
　　Our nation in ancient times emphasized physical education involving weapons and archery, wrestling and boxing, and these were things known in every household. But with the invention of firearms in modern times, martial arts were abandoned, and so they disappeared from view and ceased to be spoken of. Little do people realize the usefulness of martial arts, capable of making the weak strong, of giving long life to those who would have died young, of helping those with illness recover, of turning the listless and dispirited into the resolute and courageous. This could have both a direct and indirect influence upon our society that can be profound and enormous.
　　Fu Xiushan of Yucheng [in Shandong] is an expert in martial arts, intent on using physical fitness as a means of strengthening the nation. He has studied martial arts consistently for decades, and his incredible skill has long since made him famous throughout the nation. It goes without saying that he is uniquely capable of promoting these arts. A tireless instructor, he has now taken what he has learned throughout his life, all that he has learned from his teachers, and compiled it into a book. All of the special terminology within is fully explained, revealing even what experts would claim cannot be described in words. With the liveliness of a dragon and the vigor of a tiger, he leaps and dashes through all sorts of exquisite techniques, which he has written down one after another, sweeping aside the vice of earlier generations of not sharing information. Once this book comes out, it will be popular and sought-after. Its potential benefit for the future of our martial arts is limitless.
　　- written by Chen Zu’an of Shanzuo [i.e. Shandong] at the Shanghai Martial Arts Tournament, Dec 30, 1929

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自序
AUTHOR’S PREFACE

蓋聞有大志者。而後可以負大任就大事。然尤須有大精神大魄力濟之而後可。苟有志焉。而神如風燭。力難縛雞。惡乎其可也。孟子曰。故天將降大任於是人也。必先苦其心志。勞其筋骨。餓其體膚。空乏其身。行拂亂其所為。所以動心忍性。增益其所不能。是孟子之重視心性與體魄可知。心性之磨鍊。或由學問。或由境遇。至於磨鍊體魄。舍國技莫屬。何則。蓋運動之術雖多。而能益內利外。用剛濟柔。有百利而無一弊。則惟國技耳。世之君子。鑒於國病民弱。起而倡之。良有以也。山也不肖。幼而瘠弱。且又善病。或勸山習國技以壯身。韙之。迺從劉師希嶽練習梅花拳有年。漸識其味。及劉師不祿。山又負笈遍遊各地。幸於濟垣。獲見韓愧生先生之捷拳。剛中寓柔。柔中寓剛。適合生理。有益心身。得蒙傳授。雖未洞澈其中玄奧。然從事以來。未受病魔之苦。豈非斯術所賜歟。客秋海上中華國技學會。有國技報出刊。山適主教席於松之武術會。因而函索拙稿。然山不文。安敢操觚著述。不過將師之所遺口訣五要。動作理法。錄以付諸棗梨。並附以圖說。編輯成册。聊作野人獻芹。以襄有志君子。為磨鍊體魄之一助。更希海內名達。不棄鄙陋。有以教正之。則幸甚矣。
I have heard that ambitious people can do anything, but what is really needed is great spirit and boldness in order to be able to succeed. If you have ambition but your spirit wanes, you will hardly have enough strength to tie up a chicken. How then could you succeed at anything? Mengzi said [Mengzi, chapter 6b]: “When Nature bestows responsibility on a person, it first tests his willpower, works his body, starves him, makes him destitute, and ruins whatever he tries to do, thereby activating his mind and building his endurance, making him able where he used to unable.”
　　Mengzi obviously attached importance to both one’s mental and physical condition. Mental training comes sometimes from learning, sometimes from experience. As for physical training, how can it be done without martial arts? There are many exercise arts, but these can benefit you both internally and externally, using both hardness and softness. They have countless advantages and not one drawback. That is why they are deemed our “national arts”. Seeing that our nation is ill, our people weak, wise gentlemen have started to promote these arts as a good means of dealing with the problem.
　　I was a sickly child, often very ill, and so I was advised to practice martial arts in order to build up my body. This was good advice indeed. I learned Plum Blossom Boxing from Liu Xiyue for several years, gradually coming to understand its special flavor. But then Liu passed away, and so I left home to learn elsewhere, traveling many places, until I was lucky enough to discover Han Kuisheng’s Nimbleness Boxing. It has softness within hardness, hardness within softness. It conforms to physiological principles, benefitting both mind and body. I have still not yet penetrated all of its mysteries, but ever since I started practicing it, I have never suffered from any illness. Therefore how could this art not a blessing?
　　While visiting the Shanghai Chinese Martial Arts Association, where they publish a martial arts newspaper, they recommended me for a teaching position at the Song River Martial Arts Association, which then requested that I send them a manuscript about this material. Since I am not a highly literate person, how could I presume to not only write about what I learned from my teacher, his twelve terms, five requirements, and movement principles, but also publish it all, including photographs of myself performing the postures, in an actual book? I am just a country bumpkin and this is just my meager contribution, intended to give some aid to ambitious gentlemen in the training of their bodies. I hope this art will become respected throughout the nation and not be dismissed as something shallow, but if anyone has any criticisms of this book, I would be very happy to receive them.

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捷拳圖說目錄
CONTENTS

捷拳之要旨
Essentials of Nimbleness Boxing
　十二字訣
　Twelve Key Terms
　五要
　Five Requirements
　論指
　On the Use of the Fingers
　論拳
　On the Use of the Fists [Palms]
　論捶
　On the Use of the Fists
　〔論腿〕
　[On the Use of the Legs]
　總訣
　General Principles
　節目歌訣
　Mnemonic Verse for Each Posture
捷拳之表演
Performance of Nimbleness Boxing
　第一式　立正
　Posture 1: STANDING AT ATTENTION
　第二式　預備
　Posture 2: PREPARATION
　第三式　順風領衣
　Posture 3: WIND TUGS THE JACKET
　第四式　順手推舟
　Posture 4: GOING WITH THE CURRENT TO PUSH THE BOAT
　第五式　靈獼護腦
　Posture 5: CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD
　第六式　蜻蜓點水
　Posture 6: DRAGONFLY SKIMS THE WATER
　第七式　葉底藏花
　Posture 7: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF
　第八式　出爪亮翅
　Posture 8: SENDING OUT CLAWS, SPREADING WINGS
　第九式　摟膝拗步
　Posture 9: BRUSH KNEE IN A CROSSED STANCE
　第十式　黑虎掏心
　Posture 10: BLACK TIGER STEALS THE HEART
　第十一式　跨虎登山
　Posture 11: STALKING TIGER CLIMBS THE MOUNTAIN
　第十二式　魁星奪斗
　Posture 12: KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER
　第十三式　葉底藏花
　Posture 13: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF
　第十四式　金龍合口
　Posture 14: GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH
　第十五式　彩鳳囘頭
　Posture 15: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD
　第十六式　玉女穿梭
　Posture 16: MAIDEN SENDS THE SHUTTLE THROUGH
　第十七式　燕子穿簾
　Posture 17: SWALLOW FLIES THROUGH THE CURTAIN
　第十八式　懷中抱玉
　Posture 18: HOARDING THE JADE
　第十九式　推窗望月
　Posture 19: PUSH OPEN THE WINDOW TO GAZE AT THE MOON
　第二十式　摘星換斗
　Posture 20: PLUCK THE STARS TO ROTATE THE BIG DIPPER
　第二十一式　收爪斂鋒
　Posture 21: RETRACTING SHARP CLAWS
　第二十二式　分掌横跺
　Posture 22: SPREADING PALMS, SIDE KICK
　第二十三式　英雄獨立
　Posture 23: HERO STANDS ON ONE LEG
　第二十四式　迎門正跺
　Posture 24: KICKING STRAIGHT AHEAD
　第二十五式　魁星奪斗
　Posture 25: KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER
　第二十六式　葉底藏花
　Posture 26: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF
　第二十七式　金龍合口
　Posture 27: GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH
　第二十八式　彩鳳囘頭
　Posture 28: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD
　第二十九式　靈獼護腦
　Posture 29: CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD
　第三十式　柳線垂金
　Posture 30: GOLD HANGING FROM THE WILLOW BRANCHES
　第三十一式　藤蘿掛壁
　Posture 31: VINE CREEPS UP THE WALL
　第三十二式　進步指南
　Posture 32: ADVANCE, POINTING-COMPASS POSTURE
　第三十三式　丹鳳朝陽
　Posture 33: PHOENIX LANDS ATOP THE SUNNY SLOPE
　第三十四式　風擺荷葉
　Posture 34: WIND SWEEPS THE LOTUS LEAVES
　第三十五式　順風擺柳
　Posture 35: WIND SWAYS THE WILLOW
　第三十六式　單鞭
　Posture 36: SINGLE WHIP
　第三十七式　單擄手
　Posture 37: SINGLE PULLING HAND
　第三十八式　彩鳳囘頭
　Posture 38: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD
　第三十九式　黑虎掏心
　Posture 39: BLACK TIGER STEALS THE HEART
　第四十式　前進踢打
　Posture 40: ADVANCE, KICK & HIT
　第四十一式　左前進踢打
　Posture 41: LEFT ADVANCE, KICK & HIT
　第四十二式　迎門正跺
　Posture 42: KICKING STRAIGHT AHEAD
　第四十三式　魁星奪斗
　Posture 43: KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER
　第四十四式　葉底藏花
　Posture 44: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF
　第四十五式　金龍合口
　Posture 45: GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH
　第四十六式　彩鳳囘頭
　Posture 46: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD
　第四十七式　靈獼護腦
　Posture 47: CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD
　第四十八式　渾元一氣
　Posture 48: RETURNING TO YOUR ORIGINAL STATE

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捷拳圖說
A HANDBOOK FOR NIMBLENESS BOXING

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捷拳之要旨
ESSENTIALS OF NIMBLENESS BOXING

梅花捷拳。以劈、挑、閃、衝、斜、五式為基本。以上中下三盤為捷法。捷者何。敏之謂也。拳曰捷。猶路之有捷徑也。捷拳之用。貴巧不貴力。乘敵之隙而動。所謂出其不意攻其無備也。遠則用手足。近則使肘膝。身體靈活。動作敏捷。如能精達此意。則敵雖有賁育之勇。亦無所施其技矣。是故拳之所以貴乎捷。而捷拳之命名。及其致用之功。槪可見焉。
The basics of Plum Blossom Nimbleness Boxing are the five qualities of chopping downward, carrying upward, rushing in, thrusting forward, and using angles, and its nimbleness lies in the three areas of the body: upper, middle, lower. Why “nimble”? Because of its agility. This boxing set is described as having nimbleness because it seems to seek shortcuts.
　　In application, it values skillfulness more than strength, taking advantage of the opponent’s gaps. As it is said [Art of War, chapter 7]: “Appear where he does not expect. Attack where he is not prepared.” At long range, use hands and feet. At short range, use elbows and knees. The body is lively and the movement is nimble. If you can master these ideas, then even though your opponent may have great courage, he will have no way to use his skills. Therefore the reason this boxing art values nimbleness, and why its name is Nimbleness Boxing, clearly has to do with its practical function.

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十二字訣
TWELVE KEY TERMS

點　按　伸　縮　奇　正　弔　擄　速　巧　活　合
The key terms are: focus and pressure, expanding and contracting, direct and indirect, hanging and pulling, quickness and skillfulness, liveliness and unification.
解曰
They are explained below:

點者。以重力聚於一點也。夫重力聚於一點。其力較散漫者為大而速。譬如鐵錘。愈重則其速力愈滯。刃鋒愈利。則其速力愈疾。所謂能受一拳。不能受一掌。能受一掌。不能受一指之精意也。
[1] FOCUS: concentrating a heavy force upon a single point. If it is not concentrated upon a single point, it will be scattered over a general area. It should be a large force, but also have an element of speed. Take for example an iron mace. The heavier it is, the slower it is swung. But the sharper its spikes, the faster it will pierce through. It is said: “If he can handle a punch, then I will slice with the edge of my palm. If he can handle my palm, then I will stab with my fingertip.” This is exactly the idea.

按者。當我手未及敵人之身也。視之若無力然。及至其身也。猛力一按。使其氣虛而內傷也。
[2] PRESSURE: Before my hands reach the opponent’s body, I seem to have no power, but then in the moment that I get to his body, I press into him with sudden force, knocking the wind out of him and injuring him internally.

伸者。舒也。張而大之。引伸而使之長也。
[3] EXPANDING: to stretch out until there is a feeling of reaching far, extending your body so that there is a sense of lengthening.

縮者。斂也。充而實之。聚氣以斂神也。
[4] CONTRACTING: to gather in until there is a fullness and solidity, gathering energy in order to accumulate spirit.

奇者。側也。正者正也。善技擊者。不出奇正。奇正相生。變化無窮。或指前而打後。或指左而打右。或指上而打下。虛實相乘。剛柔互用。端倪莫測也。
[5] INDIRECT: going from the side.
[6] DIRECT: going straight ahead.
An expert at fighting does not use only either direct or indirect techniques, for the direct and indirect give rise to each other, alternating without limit. Indicate you are going forward, then attack to the rear. Indicate you are going to the left, then attack to the right. Indicate you are going upward, then attack downward. Making use of both emptiness and fullness, of both hardness and softness, your actions will be impossible to predict.

弔擄者。沉潛之勢也。先賢謂沉機以觀變。潛心以觀理。窮理以接物。拳術之弔擄手。乃順敵手之來。我乃以手弔之擄之。故能乘敵人之勢以應之。敵之來勢愈猛。其仆也愈快。其跌也愈遠矣。
[7 & 8] HANGING & PULLING: a sinking action. A piece of ancient wisdom says: “Submerge yourself in situations in order to see how they change, concentrate your mind in order to notice principles, and then delve into the principles in order to deal with the world.” As for the boxing arts technique of “hanging and pulling”, I go along with the opponent’s attack, then use my hand to hang over it and pull on it. I am therefore able to respond to his attack by taking advantage of his incoming force. The fiercer his attack, the faster and farther he will fall.

速者。神速也。能於敵手未到之際。我手已先着其身。我手之去。不見其去而已去。我手之來。未見其來而已來。敵雖欲格拒。已不及矣。
[9] QUICKNESS: amazing speed. With this ability, before the opponent’s hand has reached me, my hand has already hit his body. When my hand goes out, he does not see it go out and it has already arrived. When my hand comes back, he does not see it come back and it has already returned. No matter how he tries to block my attacks, it is always too late.

巧者。引進落空。空而未現。現而不見。使敵攻無所攻。守無所守。擊其要而避其勁。擊其虛而避其實。擊其微而避其顯。故云。四兩撥千斤。誠非虛語也。
[10] SKILLFULNESS: drawing the opponent in to land on nothing. Where I disappear, he does not noticed I have disappeared. Where I appear, he does not noticed I have appeared. I cause him to attack where there is nothing to attack, and defend where there is nothing to be defended against. I strike where he is vulnerable and avoid him where he is strong. I strike where he is empty and avoid him where he is full. I strike where he is not paying attention and avoid him where he is focused. Thus it is said: “Four ounces deflects a thousand pounds.” This is not just an empty phrase.

活者。心機靈敏。動作活潑。勢若常山之蛇。擊首則尾應。擊尾則首應。擊其中則尾首俱應。能攻能守。非活而何。
[11] LIVELINESS: Your mind is nimble and your movement is lively. This is like the “Mt. Chang Snake” battle formation [Art of War, chapter 11]: “Strike its head, its tail responds. Strike its tail, its head responds. Strike its middle, its head and tail respond together.” In this way, you are able to both attack and defend. But without liveliness, you would not be able to do this.

合者。內而精氣與神。外而手、眼、身、法、步。使其表裏相應。上下相隨。剛柔相濟。動靜有節。虛實互用。則豁然貫通。乃稱合焉。
[12] UNIFICATION: Internally you have essence, energy, and spirit. Externally you have your hands, eyes, body, techniques, and steps. There should be coordination between inside and out, upper body and lower. There should be cooperation between hardness and softness, movement and stillness, emptiness and fullness. One day these things will suddenly all fall into place, and then you can be said to be in unified state.

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五要
FIVE REQUIREMENTS

一眼明
1. CLEAR GAZE

善擊技者。眼必明。不然。受制於人。何能克敵。如取守勢。未明敵之來勢。或欲攻擊。未明敵之虛實。貿然擊去。雖快雖硬。鮮能命中。則勞神耗力。其能久持乎。故云。未交手前。必先審察。審察已明。乘虛而入。出其不意。攻其無備。則事半而功倍。可謂眼明之證矣。
To be good at fighting, you have to have a clear gaze. If not, you will be under the opponent’s control, and then how would you be able to defeat him? If you adopt a defensive position without clearly seeing what the opponent’s attack is, or if you try to attack without clearly seeing where the opponent is vulnerable, you will be lashing out in haste, and even if your strikes are fast and hard, you would rarely be able to hit the target. In this way, you would just end up wasting your energy and not be able to fight for very long. Therefore it is said: “Before making contact with your hands, you must observe the opponent. Having studied him, then take advantage of his gaps. ‘Appear where he does not expect. Attack where he is not prepared.’” You will thereby be able to do half the work and get twice the effect. This demonstrates the value of a clear gaze.

二手快
2. QUICK HANDS

手滯而露。其力雖大而易避。手快而隱。其力雖小亦難防。設如我與敵人同時發手。我手尚在進行之線。敵手業已先臨。雖欲避之。已無及矣。拳譜云。以快打慢。此之謂也。
If your hands are slow and obvious, then even if your techniques are more powerful, they will be easy to evade. If your hands are quick and subtle, then even if your techniques are less powerful, they will be difficult to defend against. For example, an opponent and I shoot out our hands at the same time, but my hand is still on its way by the time his has already arrived, and so even if I tried to evade it, I would be too late. It is said in boxing classics: “Use quickness to attack slowness.” This is the idea.

三心沉
3. CALM MIND

應敵之際。切忌心慌。心慌則意亂。意亂則手足失措。攻守失當。故習拳者。當先治心。治心之道無他。沉着而已。不以危急而色變。不為强敵而心驚。其庶幾乎。
When dealing with an opponent, you must by all means avoid getting mentally flustered. If your mind is flustered, your intention will be in disorder. If your intention is in disorder, then your hands and feet will be in disarray and every action of attack or defense you make will be inappropriate. Therefore you first have to control your mind, and the method of gaining this control is nothing more than being calm. As long as you do not treat the situation as a desperate emergency and lose your composure, nor consider the opponent to be too powerful and become afraid of him, then you will be halfway there.

四步穩
4. STEADY STEPS

進步須近敵身。手到身隨。方能得勁。動如虎豹。靜如山邱。出入要有方位。進退令其莫測。欲進也故示之以退。欲退也故示之以進。故學者對於步位。須加意焉。
When advancing, you must get close to the opponent’s body. As your hands arrive, your body follows. That way you will be able to express power. “In movement, be like a tiger. In stillness, be like a mountain.” As you move back and forth, you will be moving in definite directions, but make your advancing and retreating impossible to read. When you want to advance, show that you are about to retreat, and when you want to retreat, show that you are about to advance. Therefore you have to give extra attention to your stepping.

五膽壯
5. COURAGE

技擊尚膽壯。膽壯則氣勇。邁步猱進。敵勁雖强。期在必摧。乘機而退。退而不亂。是乃膽壯之效用也。孟子謂孟施舍之勇。視不勝猶勝也。言其有大無畏之精神也。是以手、眼、步、心、膽、五者俱備。然後能言技擊。然勝而不驕。退而不亂。非膽壯而心細者。其孰能之。
Fighting demands courage. With courage, your spirit will be bold. You will advance with determined steps, and then even if your opponent is powerful, he is sure to be destroyed. Or if retreat is called for, you will retreat without falling into disorder. Both of these situations show the effectiveness of courage. Mengzi said [Mengzi, chapter 2a]: “The courage of Meng Shishe was to see winning and losing as the same thing.” These words describe someone with a fearless spirit. Once all five of these qualities are prepared – eyes, hands, steps, mind, guts – then you will be ready to discuss fighting. However, to win without becoming arrogant and to retreat without falling apart – these things cannot be achieved without being mindful about courage.

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論指
ON THE USE OF THE FINGERS

指力雖微。功效甚偉。指有勾、摟、擒、拿、之性。使之輕則輕。使之重則重。緩則緩。速則速。邇則邇。遠則遠。何其靈也。使作準繩。可法可則。指雖剛而腕似棉。是其巧也。蓋力之所至。氣之所使也。學者當目在於斯。心在於斯。一身之精氣神俱注於斯。日積月累。使之力達於指。則不期然而然。莫之致而至矣。
Although the strength of the fingers is slight, their effectiveness is great. Fingers can hook, pull, seize, and grab. They can act with lightness or heaviness, slowness or quickness, be near or far. Such is their marvelous dexterity. From these criteria, certain standards form. Although the fingers may use hardness, the key is that the wrist stays supple. Then wherever strength arrives, energy will be activated. You should focus on this point, think about it, concentrate the essence, energy, and spirit of your whole body upon it, and then after practicing for a long time, strength will manifest in the fingers unexpectedly and without any forcing of it to happen.

論掌
ON THE USE OF THE PALMS

掌用翻轉之力。翻轉卽陰陽。陰陽宗一氣。氣有淸濁之別。掌有陰陽之變。惟須練習純熟。方能旋轉如意。果能專心致志。則全身之力。可運於掌矣。
The palm uses rotational power, meaning the alternation between passive and active, the two aspects functioning together. Energy divides into “clear energy” and “murky energy” as the palm alternates between the passive and active aspects

. But you have to practice to the point of skillfulness to be able to switch them efficiently. If you can focus your mind entirely, then the power of the whole body can be sent to the palm.

論捶
ON THE USE OF THE FISTS

拳有剛柔並進之性。或曰。非柔不活。非活不快。非快不取。又曰。至剛不破。非剛不克。然此皆為偏倚之談。何若拳似流星、肱似繩、剛中含柔、柔以摧剛、剛柔相濟、為用之得當也。
Punches should use both hardness and softness. It has been said: “Without softness, it will have no liveliness. Without liveliness, it will have no quickness. Without quickness, it will not reach the target.” It has also been said: “With too much hardness, it will do no damage. Not enough hardness, it will not arrive at all.” But these might be somewhat narrow statements, so try this one: “The fist is like a meteor, the arm like a rope.” Hardness contains softness, for softness is what is used to deliver hardness. Thus hardness and softness have to complement each other in order for techniques to be carried out properly.

論腿
ON THE USE OF THE LEGS

腿有升、降、進、退、踢、蹬、掃、截、勾、翦、蹅、跥、之分。為拳術中必要之具。蓋腿長於手。而力尤過之。然或用之不當。間有為害者。故學者於斯。當自權其功力。而後用之可也。
Legs actions are divided into: rising and lowering, advancing and retreating, toe kicks and heel kicks, sweeping and blocking, hooking and scything, stepping and stomping, These are all essentials within the art. Because the leg is longer than the arm, its power is much greater, but if it is used improperly [i.e. at the incorrect range, either too far or too close], you will only end up getting hurt. Therefore your use of your legs depends entirely on skill in order for it to be effective.

總訣
GENERAL PRINCIPLES

平心靜氣。無思無慮。舌抵上腭。氣沉丹田。
Balance your mind and calm your energy, no thoughts, no worries. With your tongue touching your upper palate, energy sinks to your elixir field.

–

捷拳之表演　節目歌訣
PERFORMANCE OF NIMBLENESS BOXING
(including a mnemonic verse for each posture [except Postures 1, 31, and 37])

第一式　立正
Posture 1: STANDING AT ATTENTION

身體立正。頭向上頂。如頂物然。二目平視。口微閉。舌抵上腭。氣貫丹田。兩手鬆攏下垂。兩足尖離開六十度。
Your body stands straight, head upright as though supporting an object on your head, your gaze level. Your mouth is closed, your tongue touching your upper palate. Energy is coursing through to your elixir field, your hands relaxed and hanging down. Your feet are spread apart at the toes by about sixty degrees. See photo 1:

取靜默從容之態度。除去一切雜念。自然心靜氣淸矣。達摩祖師謂人生感於情慾。一落有形之身。臟腑肢骸。悉為滓穢所染。必洗滌淨盡。無絲毫之障礙。方可步超凡入聖之門。故習拳者。不由此。則進道無機矣。是卽先賢所謂靜而安。安而慮。慮而後能得者也。
Seek a state of quiet calm, getting rid of all distracting thoughts, and then naturally your mind will be at ease and your energy will be clear. The founder Damo said: “Human beings feel desires, because we have material bodies. Our organs, limbs, and bones are stained by corruption and have to be thoroughly cleansed. Once there is not the slightest hindrance, then you will be able to transcend the world.” If practitioners of boxing arts do not work from this principle, there will be no way to progress. Therefore an ancient sage said [from the “Da Xue”, chapter 42 of the Book of Rites]: “With calm, there is peace. With peace, there is mindfulness. With mindfulness, the objective will be achieved.”

第二式　預備
Posture 2: PREPARATION

預備捷拳頸直伸。鬆肩垂手足踵匀。身從左扭腿微曲。雙手持拳與腰均。
In the PREPARATION posture of Nimbleness Boxing, your neck is straight,
shoulders loose, hands hanging, heels together.
Then your body twists to the left, your legs slightly bending,
your hands grasping into fists and shifting up to waist level.

第二式開始動作。身稍下沉而左轉。兩腿微屈。（足不動）
This posture is the initiating of movement. Your body slightly sinks and turns to the left, both legs slightly bending (your feet not leaving their location). See photo 2a:

兩手握拳上提。附於腰間。手心向內。兩目亦隨左轉平視。
Then your hands become fists and lift up to your waist, the centers of the hands facing inward, your gaze going along with the leftward turn, looking level. See photo 2b:

為靜中求動。前言靜乃淸其內。此言動乃堅其體。體堅則精神亦充足矣。達摩祖師謂人之一身。內而精氣與神。外而筋骨與肉。所組織而成者也。然使之周身靈活。手足翕張。伸縮裕如者。精氣神也。卽如天地生物。亦莫不隨陰陽之氣而生焉。况於人生乎。且夫精氣神。乃無形之物也。筋骨肉乃有形之身也。此法必先練有形者。為無形之佐。練無形者。為有形之輔。是一而二二而一者也。
若專練無形。而棄有形則不可。專練有形。而棄無形則更不可。所以有形之身。必得無形之氣相和而不違。乃成不壞之體。設學者不明此義。不特不得捷拳之要妙。而且徒費時日。虛耗工夫。深望學者悉心體驗之。
Seek movement within a state of stillness. Stillness purifies you internally, then movement strengthens the body. With a strong body, spirit will be abundant. Damo said: “Internally there is essence, energy, and spirit. Externally there is sinew, bone, and muscle. Work both of these aspects together and you will be complete.” This will naturally cause the whole body to move with nimbleness, the hands and feet effortlessly performing opening and closing, extending and retracting.
　　Essence, energy, and spirit are the equivalent of the sky, the ground, and living things. All things are created by the workings of the passive and active aspects, even more so in the case of human beings. But essence, energy, and spirit are intangible things, whereas sinew, bone, and muscle are tangible. To practice this art, you must first train the tangible as an aid to the intangible, and then train the intangible as an aid to the tangible, a process of starting from one to get to two, and then working from two to get back to one.
　　You will not get anywhere if you focus on training the intangible and ignore the tangible, and especially if you focus on training the tangible and ignore the intangible. Therefore the tangible body must be merged with the intangible energy and never separated, and then you will develop an unsullied skill. If you fail to understand this principle, not only will you fail to obtain the marvels of Nimbleness Boxing, you will also simply be wasting your time and effort. Therefore I sincerely hope that you will practice with the utmost mindfulness.

第三式　順風領衣
Posture 3: WIND TUGS THE JACKET

順風衣領古人傳。弔手纏腕步當先。二目注看前敵勢。靜而制動莫遲延。
WIND TUGS THE JACKET is a technique passed down since ancient times,
using a hanging hand, curling wrist, and forward step.
Your gaze goes forward toward the opponent.
Use a quality of stillness to control his movement, but do it without delay.

接前式右足跨進一步。同時左手手心向下。由腰際前。猛向後拎。（為弔手）肘尖況下。微有下沉之意。手腕用勁。身微下蹲而後挺。以助其力。右手握拳。手心向上。置於腰際。與腰帶齊。右足尖向外撇。左足跟提起。身體半面向左。目注前手。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot advances a step as your left hand goes from in front of your waist and fiercely carries to the rear, the center of the hand facing downward (making a hanging hand), the elbow hanging down with a slight intention of sinking, power expressing at the wrist. Your body is slightly squatting down and leaning back to assist the power, your right fist still placed at your waist, the center of the hand facing upward. Your right toes are swung outward, your left heel lifted. Your body is turned halfway to the left, your gaze toward your front hand. See photo 3:

第四式　順手推舟
Posture 4: GOING WITH THE CURRENT TO PUSH THE BOAT

順手推舟要順肩。進身撒手腿微拳。鬆肩墜肘腕增力。側體攻心取敵便。
GOING WITH THE CURRENT TO PUSH THE BOAT involves going along with the shoulder
as you advance and shoot out your right hand, your legs slightly bending.
Loosen the shoulder, drop the elbow, and increase strength at the wrist.
Angling your body sideways, attack to the solar plexus, seeking the opponent where he is vulnerable.

接前式左手翻轉收囘。微有下沉之意。置於腰際。手心向上。此時左足往前跨進一步。右手猛向前推。手掌用勁。手指向上。手心向左。鬆肩墜肘。身體向左。右膝蓋頂於左腿彎。左足尖向外撒。右足跟提起。兩腿微彎。目注右手中指尖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left hand turns over and withdraws with a slight intention of sinking and is placed at your waist, the palm facing upward, your left foot at the same time advancing a step as your right hand fiercely pushes forward, power expressing at the palm, the fingers pointing upward, the palm facing to the left, with the shoulder loosened, the elbow hanging. Your torso is facing toward the left, your right knee touching the back of your left knee, the toes of your left foot swung outward, your right heel lifted, both legs slightly bent. Your gaze is toward the tip of the middle finger of your right hand. See photo 4:

第五式　靈獼護腦
Posture 5: CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD

靈獮護腦右手托。左手握拳搥海穴。側面馬襠稱步弓。勝過弓蹬更便捷。
In CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD, your right hand props up
as your left hand grasps into a fist and punches to the opponent’s sea of energy [i.e. lower abdomen, though the photo seems to be punching higher].
Your body is turned sideways, making a horse-riding stance in a deep lunge.
The more your legs bend, the more nimble the posture.

接前式右手向外翻轉。由頂上抽囘。胳膊微彎。手心向上。用托勁。手背離頭頂約二寸許。同時左拳由腰間翻轉前射。用衝勁。手心向右。大指上節頂於中指上節根。使中指中節突出。五指扣緊。鬆肩墜肘。挺腕。腰隨右猛轉。兩足尖稍向前。身體向右。目注左拳之上節。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right hand turns over outward and withdraws over your head, the arm slightly bending, the palm facing upward, using a propping energy, the back of the hand about a quarter of a foot away from your headtop. At the same time, your left fist shoots forward from your waist, the fist rotating, using a thrusting energy, the center of the hand facing to the right, the top joint of the thumb pressing the top knuckle of the middle finger, causing the mid-knuckle of the middle finger to stick out, all five fingers squeezing tightly, with the shoulder loosened, the elbow hanging, the wrist straightening. Your waist correspondingly turns to the right [with your left foot also shifting forward], the toes of both feet pointing slightly forward. Your torso is facing toward the right, your gaze toward the top knuckle of your left fist. See photo 5:

第六式　蜻蜓點水
Posture 6: DRAGONFLY SKIMS THE WATER

蜻蜓點水要神速。熟能生巧工夫足。專攻敵人要害中。不必跳躍多勞碌。
DRAGONFLY SKIMS THE WATER should be performed with amazing speed,
an ability that will come with practice.
Focus on attacking the opponent at his vulnerable areas
instead of leaping so much that you only wear yourself out.

接前式左足微向前進。足尖向前。右足向前跟步。右足跟靠於左足跟之右後方。約二寸許。同時右手五指收攏。（不可加緊）再極力向前撒。如投物然。手心向右下方。中指用勁。鬆肩。墜肘。挺腕。同時左拳變掌。抽囘貼於右胳膊彎。兩腿微屈。胸部微向後吸。身體向前。目注右手中指尖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot slightly advances, the toes pointing forward, and your right foot does a following step until your right heel is about a quarter of a foot away from your left heel. At the same time, the fingers of your right hand curl in (though not tightly) and then forcefully release forward as though throwing an object, the palm facing downward to the right [left], power expressing at the middle finger, with the shoulder loosening, elbow hanging, wrist straightening, while your left fist becomes a palm and withdraws near your right elbow. Your legs are slightly bent, your chest slightly sucked in, your torso facing forward, your gaze toward the tip of the middle finger of your right hand. See photo 6:

第七式　葉底藏花
Posture 7: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF

葉底藏花退中守。陰陽相合變化有。胸前出手便利多。或左或右攻卽誘。
FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF retreats defensively,
then the passive and active aspects switch roles.
Send out your hand from in front of your chest with great ease.
Whether performing the technique on the left or right, attacking is a matter of luring the opponent in.

接前式上身不動。退後三步。先退右足。次退左足。再退右足。及右足着地時。將身子往下猛蹲。左手變拳。沿右手腕下向前衝出。鬆肩。墜肘。挺腕。拳握緊。仍將中指突出。拳尖用勁。右手貼附於右胳膊彎。手指朝上。步法用弓蹬步。身體半面向右。目注左拳之上端。
Continuing from the previous posture, with your upper body maintaining its position, retreat three steps – right, left, right – and when your right foot comes down, your body suddenly squats down and your left hand, becoming a fist, thrusts out forward along the underside of your right wrist, the shoulder loosening, elbow hanging, wrist straightening, fist gripping tightly, with [the mid-knuckle of] the middle finger again sticking out, power expressing at the knuckles, your right hand going near your right [left] elbow, fingers pointing upward. You are in a bow stance, your torso facing halfway to the right, your gaze toward the top knuckle of your left fist. See photo 7:

第八式　出爪亮翅
Posture 8: SENDING OUT CLAWS, SPREADING WINGS

出爪高張手拓弦。身成十字左尖前。手心向上為陽掌。中指挑匀要對肩。
In SENDING OUT CLAWS, SPREADING WINGS, your hands seem to slide along a string,
your body making a cross shape with your left toes forward.
Your palms are facing upward, making active palms,
your middle fingers carrying equally, aligned with your shoulders.

接前式左足往後收囘。離右足脛二三寸許。足跟提起。足尖點地。兩腿微彎。左手同時往後摟。手指向下。（目隨視摟手）腕肘俱彎。左足再向右前方斜進半步。仍足尖點地。同時右手向前伸。左手向後伸。如撇物之狀。兩手中指用勁。手心向上。與肩平。腰向左擰勁。目注右手中指。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot withdraws to be about a quarter of a foot away from your right ankle, the heel lifted, toes touching down, both legs slightly bent, your left hand at the same time pulling back, the palm facing downward (your gaze following it), the wrist and elbow bending. Then your left foot diagonally advances a half step to the forward right, again touching down with the toes, as your right hand extends forward and your left hand extends behind, as though flinging away objects, power expressing through the middle fingers, the palms facing upward at shoulder level, your waist twisting to the left. Your gaze is toward the middle finger of your right hand. See photo 8:

第九式　摟膝拗步
Posture 9: BRUSH KNEE IN A CROSSED STANCE

摟膝拗行手足擡。向前右足左還摧。躋襠反尾步虛實。右手勾摟左手推。
In BRUSH KNEE IN A CROSSED STANCE, your right hand and right foot lift,
then your right foot goes forward as your left hand smashes.
Your stance is twisted so your opposite foot is forward
as your right hand hooks back and your left hand pushes out.

接前式右手向左後掛。（目隨視掛手）手指向上與左肩齊。手心向左。左手同時向下翻轉變為鈎手。手指向上。微停。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right hand is placed to the left rear (your gaze following it), the fingers pointing upward at shoulder level, the palm facing to the left, your left hand at the same time going downward, turning over to become a hooking hand, the fingers pointing upward. There is a slight pause in this position. See photo 9a [reverse view]:

次將右腿提起。右手由左膝前。向下向後摟。（摟手同前）右足卽前進一步。足尖點地。左手隨從左脇之前翻轉前推。手心向右。手指向上與肩平。手掌用勁。目注左手食指尖。
Then your right leg lifts, your right hand pulls downward to the rear from in front of your left [right] knee as your right foot advances a step, the toes touching down, and your left hand goes along the front of your left ribs, turns over, and pushes forward, the palm facing to the right, the fingers pointing upward at shoulder level, power being expressed at the palm. Your gaze is toward the tip of the forefinger of your left hand. See photo 9b [reverse view]:

第十式　黑虎掏心
Posture 10: BLACK TIGER STEALS THE HEART

黑虎掏心出手長。三尖相對始為良。一前一後攻兼守。十字擰身扣緊襠。
In BLACK TIGER STEALS THE HEART, you reach out your hand far.
The three structure points [nose, fist, forward toes] have to be aligned with each other.
One hand goes forward as the other pulls back, performing attack and defense simultaneously.
Twist your body across, closing your crotch.

接前式左足向左前方移動。距離隨人之身體。以不費力為宜。左手先向右掛。（同前）次卽向前向左往後擄。（歸抱肘式）再右手變拳。向前衝。左腿下彎。右腿向後蹬直。（為弓蹬步）兩足往下蹬勁。兩膝往裏扣勁。擠襠、反尾、擰腰、順肩、墜肘、挺腕。右拳向前伸勁。左膀往後擺勁。右拳與左右肩成一平直線。目注右拳大指根節。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot steps forward to close the distance to the opponent’s body, keeping you from wasting energy trying to reach it with just your hands, as your left hand is first placed upward to the right (as your right hand was before), then goes forward and pulls toward the left rear (to return to the wrapping-elbow posture). At the same time, your right hand becomes a fist and thrusts forward as your left leg bends and your right leg straightens behind (making a bow stance), both feet having an energy of pressing downward, both knees having an energy of covering inward. With your crotch squeezing, your tailbone tucking in, your waist twisting, the shoulder stretching, the elbow hanging, and the wrist straightening, your right fist extends forward, your left arm having an energy of swinging toward the rear, your right fist making a level line with your shoulders. Your gaze is toward the large knuckle of your right fist. See photo 10:

第十一式　跨虎登山
Posture 11: STALKING TIGER CLIMBS THE MOUNTAIN

登山跨虎敵難容。左手架遮右足從。蹲胯方能足抓地。敵人相望欲逃蹤。
STALKING TIGER CLIMBS THE MOUNTAIN is hard for the opponent to endure.
Your left hand blocks up as your right foot is unleashed.
By squatting down your hips, your left foot roots into the ground.
When the opponent sees this posture, he will want to flee.

接前式右手抽囘歸抱肘式。左拳變掌由胸口前向上翻。胳膊微彎。手心向上。手指向右。手背相離頭頂寸許。手腕向上向外翻勁。同時右腿向前蹬。足尖向右上方。足跟用勁。足掌向前仰。所蹬之足高不過膝。目注右足。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right hand withdraws, returning to a wrapping-elbow position, as your left fist becomes a palm and goes upward from in front of your chest, turning over so the palm is facing upward, the arm slightly bent, the fingers pointing to the right, the back of the hand about an inch away from your headtop, the wrist having an energy of turning upward and outward. At the same time, your right foot presses forward, the toes pointing toward the upper right, power expressed at the heel, the sole of the foot stretching back. The kick is no higher than knee level, your gaze toward your right foot. See photo 11:

第十二式　魁星奪斗
Posture 12: KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER

魁星奪斗手相連。左右無差身莫偏。左足跟前丁字步。附於右肘左當先。
In KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER, your hands move in coordination,
left and right properly placed, and your body should not be leaning.
Your left foot follows forward to make T stance [i.e. its toes touching down].
To touch your right elbow, your left hand has to come forward.

接前式右足落地時。極力向前邁。左足向前跟。足尖點地。右拳向前衝。鬆肩。墜肘。挺腕。手心向左。拳與肩平。同時左手向下壓。手指向上。附於右胳膊彎。目注右拳食指中節根。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot comes down with a strong step forward, then your left foot comes forward with a following step, the toes touching down and pointing toward the front heel. At the same time, your right fist thrusts forward, the shoulder loosening, the elbow hanging, the wrist straightening, the center of the hand facing to the left at shoulder level, as your left hand presses down, fingers pointing upward near your right elbow. Your gaze is toward the mid-knuckle of the forefinger of your right fist. See photo 12:

第十三式　葉底藏花
Posture 13: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF
第十三式葉底藏花。同前見第七式。
(same as Posture 7 [except in this case making only two retreating steps: left, then right])

第十四式　金龍合口
Posture 14: GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH

金龍合口手毋高。防敵良機使莫逃。掌合陰陽從後帶。手停胯下稍沉腰。
In GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH, your hands should not be high.
Its purpose is to prevent the opponent from taking the opportunity to escape.
With your palms facing each other, drag to the rear,
stopping below your hips, your waist slightly sinking.

接前式雙手向後向下擄。如拉物然。左手拉至左胯之下停住。手心向外。右手拉至右膝之下停住。手心向內。兩胳膊微彎。同時左足往後撤半步。足尖點地。兩腿微彎。兩膝蓋向左前方。右胯微向下沉。兩手向後抽勁。並有下按之意。身體向右。目注兩手之間。
Continuing from the previous posture, your hands pull down to the rear as though pulling an object, your left hand pulling until below your left hip, the palm facing outward, your right hand pulling until below your right knee [hip], the palm facing inward, both arms slightly bent. At the same time, your left foot withdraws a half step, the toes touching down, both legs slightly bent, both knees pointing toward the forward left [forward right], your right knee slightly sinking. As your hands pull back, they also have an intention of pushing down. Your torso is facing toward the right, your gaze toward the space between your hands. See photo 14:

第十五式　彩鳳囘頭
Posture 15: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD

彩鳳囘頭快翻身。轉身進步莫因循。步虛制敵進兼退。左短右長備敵掄。
COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD involves quickly turning around,
turning your body as you advance, and without any hesitation.
Your step empties to control the opponent [behind you], turning an advancing action into a retreat.
Your left hand is at short range, right hand at long range, swinging out to guard against him.

接前式左足前進一步。右足再進一步。同時左手手腕向外擰。手心向前。由腹部向上畫。畫至目前往後擄。左足退後一步。此時身體成一大轉身式。右手亦隨著轉身。上下畫一圓圈。惟左手用擄勁。右手畫至上方變拳。往下劈勁。手心向左上方。左手附於右胳膊彎。兩腿微彎。右足尖點地。身體向左。目注右拳大指。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot advances a step and then your right foot advances a step, your left wrist at the same time twisting outward so the palm is facing forward, the hand arcing upward from your belly until in front of your eyes, then pulling to the rear as your left foot retreats a step while your body makes a large turn. Your right hand goes along with this turn by drawing a circle, upward and then downward. While your left hand pulls, your right hand becomes a fist once at the top of the circle and then chops downward [until at shoulder level], the center of the hand facing upward to the left, your left hand going close to your right elbow. Both legs are slightly bent, your right toes touching down. Your torso is facing toward the left, your gaze toward the thumb of your right fist. See photo 15:

第十六式　玉女穿梭
Posture 16: MAIDEN SENDS THE SHUTTLE THROUGH

玉女穿梭手左挪。發將雙手在腰窩。手心向外格推式。由此閃身敵奈何。
MAIDEN SENDS THE SHUTTLE THROUGH involves reorienting to the left
as you bring your hands back toward your waist,
then pushing out with the palms facing outward.
How can the opponent deal with this sudden maneuver?

接前式左足向前方斜進一大步。右足向前跟步。右足尖離左足跟二寸許。同時右手收囘。手心向上。右掌與小指貼於心口之前。左手向上架。指尖向右。手心向上。胳膊彎如弧形。右手同時向前推。手指向上。與喉齊。手心向外。掌根用勁。身體向前。目注右手中指尖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot advances diagonally forward with a large step and your right foot goes forward with a following step so that your right toes are about a quarter of a foot away from your left heel. At the same time, your hands withdraw, the palms facing upward, the little fingers touching your solar plexus area, and then your left hand props upward, the fingers pointing to the right, the palm facing upward, the arm bending to make a semicircle shape, as your right hand pushes forward, the fingers pointing upward at throat level, the palm facing outward, power expressing at the heel of the palm. Your torso is facing forward, your gaze toward the tip of the middle finger of your right hand. See photo 16 [reverse view]:

第十七式　燕子穿簾
Posture 17: SWALLOW FLIES THROUGH THE CURTAIN

燕子穿簾步莫淹。掌須反背敵難拈。展開雙手猶張翅。似虎離山下嶺巓。
In SWALLOW FLIES THROUGH THE CURTAIN, your steps have no delay.
Your palms have to turn over to make it difficult for the opponent to grab.
Then spread open with both hands as though spreading wings.
It should seem as though a tiger has left its mountain den and is prowling the summit.

接前式右足向右閃進一步。左足亦向右跟步。進至右足脛骨前。足尖點地。左手手掌向右向下壓。掌貼於右腋。同時右手貼近左手內腕。向右向上穿出。兩手手心俱向上。再將左足向前方進半步。足尖點地。左手同時向左前方伸去。與肩平。兩腿微彎。身體半面向右。目注右手小指。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot advances a sudden step to the right, your left foot also going to the right with a following step, advancing in front of your right ankle, the toes touching down, as your left palm presses downward to the right until near your right armpit. At the same time, your right hand threads out upward to the right along the inside of your left wrist, both palms now facing upward, and then as your left foot continues forward a further half step, the toes touching down, your left hand extends forward to the left at shoulder level [the photo showing the left foot going forward but the left hand not yet extending]. Your legs are slightly bent, your torso facing halfway to the right, your gaze toward the little finger of your right hand. See photo 17 [reverse view]:

第十八式　懷中抱玉
Posture 18: HOARDING THE JADE

懷中抱玉貴蓄勢。手置胸前善開閉。量敵而進出手先。知己知彼不失利。
HOARDING THE JADE is a posture for storing power.
Your hands are placed in front of your chest, one opening, the other closing.
Get the measure of the opponent and advance, sending out your hands.
Knowing both self and opponent, you will not lose.

接前式左足向左前方進一大步。兩手往下鬆垂。右足向前跟進一步。足尖點地。兩手向上向後掛。右手虎口與心口齊。左手微高。位於右手之前。左手大指離右手小指寸餘。左腿向下弓。右腿向下彎。右膝蓋緊抵左腿彎。左足尖與左膝蓋成一垂直線。身體向前。目注右手虎口。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot advances to the forward left with a large step as your hands hang down, then your right foot goes forward with a following step, the toes touching down, as your hands go upward and hang aside to the rear [right rear], the tiger’s mouth of your right hand at solar plexus level, your left hand slightly higher and placed forward of your right hand, your left thumb just over an inch away from your right little finger. Your legs are bent with your right knee touching the back of your left knee, your left toes and left knee making a vertical line. Your torso is facing forward, your gaze toward the tiger’s mouth of your right hand. See photo 18 [reverse view]:

第十九式　推窗望月
Posture 19: PUSH OPEN THE WINDOW TO GAZE AT THE MOON

推窗望月腿雙彎。左手當心易格攔。右手單推掌向外。目觀前手指頭端。
In PUSH OPEN THE WINDOW TO GAZE AT THE MOON, both legs are bent.
Your left hand is at your solar plexus to make it easy to block an attack.
Your right hand pushes out on its own, the palm facing outward.
Your gaze is toward the fingertips of your front hand.

接前式左足向前進一大步。右足向前跟步。足尖點地。右膝抵住左腿彎。身體向前。目注前手虎口。右手向前推。掌根用勁。左手微向下壓。兩手手指俱向上。手心俱向前。左手置於心口前。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left [right] foot goes forward with a large step and your right [left] foot goes forward with a following step, the toes touching down, your right [left] knee touching the back of your left [right] knee. At the same time, your right hand pushes forward, power expressing at the heel of the palm, with your left hand slightly pressing downward, the fingers of both hands pointing upward, the palms facing forward, your left hand placed in front of your solar plexus. Your torso is facing forward, your gaze toward the tiger’s mouth [fingertips] of your front hand. See photo 19 [reverse view]:

第二十式　摘星換斗
Posture 20: PLUCK THE STARS TO ROTATE THE BIG DIPPER

摘星換斗若何為。右足先提手目隨。左手勾摟從上剔。右宜摟膝足踵支。
How is PLUCK THE STARS TO ROTATE THE BIG DIPPER to be performed?
First your right foot lifts, your hands and eyes following
as your left hand hooks backs, rising upward.
Then your right hand pulls past your right knee and the heel presses the leg straight.

接前式右手往裏拓。手心向上。朝着左腮向後掛。（此時右足落地）左足高提。左手沿右手手背向上撩。亦往後摟。摟時二目隨著手向後看。（抅子手）左手衝左上方。微停。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right hand rubs inward, the palm facing upward, and goes toward your left cheek to be placed to the rear (as your right [left] foot comes down fully), your left [right] foot lifting. Your left hand is raising along the back of your right hand and then pulling to the rear, your gaze following your hand (which makes a hooking hand) as the hand thrusts upward to the left. There is a slight pause in this position. See photo 20:

再左足落地。右足提起。（目視右手）從右膝前往後摟。（成勾手）手指向下。此時右足向前落地。左手向裏反轉下落。手心向上。從右脇貼着心口向前推。手心向右。手指向上。掌緣用勁。左手與肩平。右手微高。身成十字形。右腿向後蹬直。目注右手食指。
Then your left [right] foot comes down so that your right [left] foot can lift, your gaze following your right hand as it pulls to the rear past your right knee (making a hooking hand), the fingers pointing downward. At the same time, your right [left] foot comes down forward as your left hand arcs inward and downward, the palm facing upward, the hand touching your right ribs and then pushing out forward from your solar plexus, the palm facing to the right, the fingers pointing upward, power expressed at the edge of the palm, the hand at shoulder level, your right hand slightly higher, your body making a cross shape with your right leg straightened behind. Your gaze is now toward the forefinger of your right [left] hand. [Although there was originally no photo supplied for this second part of the posture, it would be similar to photo 36, but with the left hand as a palm and the right hand as a hook instead of fists.]

第二十一式　收爪斂鋒
Posture 21: RETRACTING SHARP CLAWS

斂鋒收爪勢收查。左手後摟左脚挑。非但防來左面敵。同迎左右乃為超。
RETRACTING SHARP CLAWS is a posture for gathering in and assessing the situation.
Your left hand pulls to the rear as your left foot draws in.
This technique is not only for defending against an attack to your left,
for it could be applied on either side.

接前式左足向前進一步。進至右足脛骨。足尖點地。右足前進時。身體稍向右轉。又往下蹲。同時左手向後摟。（成勾手）手心向上。同時右手往上挑。挑至左肩手指與肩齊。手心向左。大指與食指貼於胸部。目注右手指尖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot comes forward a step to be beside your right ankle, the toes touching down, your torso turning slightly to the right and squatting down. At the same time, your left hand pulls to the rear (making a hooking hand), the center of the hand facing upward, as your right hand carries upward until in front of your left shoulder, the fingers at shoulder level, the palm facing to the left, the thumb and forefinger near your chest. Your gaze is toward the fingertips of your right hand. See photo 21:

第二十二式　分掌横跥
Posture 22: SPREADING PALMS, SIDE KICK

分掌横跥腿挺直。手足齊發方為劇。若非鍛鍊功夫深。重點焉能貫一足。
In SPREADING PALMS, SIDE KICK, your legs straighten.
With your hands and foot expressing in unison, it is a dramatic technique.
But if you do not practice to the point that your skill is deep,
how will you be able to focus power through your foot?

接前式兩手向心口前合攏。作交叉形。兩手手心向上。右手腕壓住左手腕。目視兩手之中間。次將左腿高提。向左横跥。足指向右後仰。足跟用勁。同時左右手向左右平分。（與肩平）手指俱向前。掌緣用勁。兩腿挺直。目注左足。
Continuing from the previous posture, your hands come together, crossing in front of your solar plexus, the palms facing upward, your right wrist pressing down on your left wrist, your gaze going toward the space between your hands. Then your left leg lifts and does a side kick to the left, the toes pointing toward the right rear, power expressing at the heel, your hands at the same time spreading apart to the left and right (at shoulder level), the fingers pointing forward, power expressing at the edges of the palms, both legs straightening. Your gaze is toward your left foot. See photo 22:

第二十三式　英雄獨立
Posture 23: HERO STANDS ON ONE LEG

獨立英雄先轉身。高低雙掌互通神。勢如敗式非眞敗。誘敵之機是好因。
HERO STANDS ON ONE LEG involves first turning around.
Your palms extend in unison, one high, one low.
This is a posture of appearing to be defeated, but you are not actually in a position of defeat.
Lure the opponent in to try something, and then make use of it.

接前式左足縮囘。兩手仍歸交叉形。身體猛向右向後轉。左足猛向下跥地。右足提起。前進半步。足尖點地。左手從胸前向上托。胳膊彎如半月形。手背離頭頂寸許。手指向右。手心向上。左手往下劈。手掌用勁。手指向右下方。離右膝蓋二寸許。兩膝蓋往裏合。兩腿微彎。身體向右。目視右前方。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot retracts, your hands returning to being crossed, and your body suddenly turns to the right rear, your left foot fiercely stomping the ground. Then your right foot lifts and advances a half step, the toes touching down, as your left hand props up from in front of your chest, the arm bent to make a crescent moon shape, the back of the hand a few inches away from your headtop, the fingers pointing to the right, the palm facing upward, and your left [right] hand chops downward, power expressing at the palm, the fingers pointing downward about a quarter of a foot away from your right knee. Both knees are closing inward, both legs slightly bent. Your torso is facing toward the right [left], your gaze forward to the right. See photo 23:

第二十四式　迎門正跥
Posture 24: KICKING STRAIGHT AHEAD

迎門正跥用挑手。進步跥腿敵難走。上虛下實方合宜。虛虛實實變化有。
KICKING STRAIGHT AHEAD involves an action of the right hand carrying,
and then when you advance with a pressing kick, it is difficult for the opponent to get away from.
Using a feint above to complement a real technique below will make it work.
Fake techniques should be varied among real techniques.

接前式右足全足蹬地。左足前進一步。右手向上挑。亦往後摕。歸抱肘式。同時左手向下劈。劈至心口前變為拳。向前平出。手心向右。同時右足向前蹬。足尖向上。足指向後仰。足跟用勁。兩腿挺直。身子不可偏斜。亦不可俯仰。微向後坐。身體向前。目注左拳之大指。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot comes down fully and your left foot advances a step as your right hand carries upward. Your right hand then pulls back, returning to a wrapping-elbow position, as your left hand chops down forward until at solar plexus level, the hand becoming a fist, the center of the hand facing to the right. At the same time, your right foot presses forward, the toes pointing upward and stretching back, power expressing at the heel, both legs straightening. Your body must not be leaning forward or back, or to either side, just slightly sitting back. Your torso is facing forward, your gaze toward the thumb of your left fist. See photo 24:

第二十五式　魁星奪斗。同十二式。
Posture 25: KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER (same as Posture 12) [reverse view]

第二十六式　葉底藏花。同第七式。
Posture 26: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF (same as Posture 7) [reverse view]

第二十七式　金龍合口。同十四式。
Posture 27: GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH (same as Posture 14) [reverse view]

第二十八式　彩鳳囘頭。同十五式。
Posture 28: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD (same as Posture 15) [reverse view]

第二十九式　靈獼護腦。同第五式。
Posture 29: CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD (same as Posture 5)

第三十式　柳線垂金
Posture 30: GOLD HANGING FROM THE WILLOW BRANCHES

柳線垂金向後轉。左掤右摟面沖前。後將右足磨齊步。左足隨教外撇邊。
GOLD HANGING FROM THE WILLOW BRANCHES involves turning around to the rear.
Prop up with your left hand and pull back with your right hand to deal with an incoming attack.
Your right foot slides straight back
and your left foot is correspondingly turned outward.

接前式身體向右轉。右足向後退一步。同時左手由胸前向上架。胳膊微彎。手心向上。右手向下向後摟。左腿下彎。足尖向外撇。右腿挺直。足尖點地。足跟起。目注左手手背。
Continuing from the previous posture, your body turns to the right, your right foot retreating a step. At the same time, your left hand props upward from in front of your chest, the arm slightly bent, the palm facing upward, as your right hand pulls downward to the rear. Your left leg is bent, the toes swung outward, and your right leg is straightened, the toes touching down, heel lifted. Your gaze is toward the back of your left hand. See photo 30:

第三十一式　藤蘿掛壁
Posture 31: VINE CREEPS UP THE WALL [no verse]

接前式左腿向後退一步。右腿下彎。左腿蹬直。足尖衝前。同時右手經胸部之前向上架。（架手與前同）左手往下壓。壓至與臍相齊停住。左手手心向下。手指向右。二目向前平視。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left leg retreats a step and your right leg bends, your left leg straightening, the toes [of both feet] pointing forward. At the same time, your right hand props upward, passing in front of your chest (same kind of propping action as in the previous posture), as your left hand presses downward until level with your navel, the palm facing downward, fingers pointing to the right. Your gaze is forward and level. See photo 31:

第三十二式　進步指南
Posture 32: ADVANCE, POINTING-COMPASS POSTURE

指南進步轉身衝。右足前騰速似風。拳術多宜此等式。身成側面少遭攻。
ADVANCE, POINTING-COMPASS POSTURE involves turning around and thrusting out,
your right foot also shooting out forward as quick as the wind.
Boxing arts often use this kind of posture,
the body turned sideways to reduce one’s own potential to be a target.

接前式身體向左向後轉。（轉身時）左足尖蹻起。足跟碾勁。同時左手手心向下。往前擄。右手往下沉。卽變為拳。由右脅貼於左手上方往前衝。手心向左。在右拳衝時。右足前進半步。足尖點地。左手附於胳膊彎。兩腿微彎。身體向左。目注右拳食指中節。
Continuing from the previous posture, your body turns around to the left rear with your left toes lifting and the heel having an energy of grinding the ground [i.e. the foot pivoting on the heel]. At the same time, your left hand pulls forward, the palm facing downward, and your right hand sinks down, becoming a fist, then thrusts forward from your right ribs over your left hand, the center of the hand facing to the left. As your right fist thrusts out, your right foot advances a half step, the toes touching down, both legs slightly bending, your left hand going near your right elbow. Your torso is facing toward the left, your gaze toward the mid-knuckle of the forefinger of your right fist. See photo 32 [reverse view]:

第三十三式　丹鳳朝陽
Posture 33: PHOENIX LANDS ATOP THE SUNNY SLOPE

丹鳳朝陽右足彈。雙雙挑劈掌相連。弓蹬半步身須正。步穩氣沉自占先
PHOENIX LANDS ATOP THE SUNNY SLOPE involves your right foot springing out.
Your hands perform carrying and chopping, the palms working in unison.
When going a half step back into a bow stance, your torso has to be facing squarely forward,
and so your stance being stable and your energy sinking are naturally given priority.

接前式右拳變掌。向右耳後方掛。左手向前推。左足提起。右足隨向前踢。將腿挺直。足尖用勁。式不停。將右足向左足之後撤一步。左腿下彎。右腿蹬直。同時右手向前向下劈。左手附於右胳膊彎。右手手心向左。手指向前。掌緣用勁。目注右手大指。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right fist becomes a palm and is hung behind your right ear, your left hand pushing forward, as your left foot lifts and your right foot kicks forward [with a hop], the leg straightening, power expressing at the toes. The posture does not pause in this position, your right foot retreating a step behind your left foot, and your left leg bends, your right leg straightening, as your right hand goes forward and chops downward, your left hand going near your right elbow, your right palm facing to the left, the fingers pointing forward, power expressing at the edge of the palm. Your gaze is toward your right thumb. See photo 33:

第三十四式　風擺荷葉
Posture 34: WIND SWEEPS THE LOTUS LEAVES

風擺荷葉手托護。右步倒叉向後顧。那怕敵從四面來。聲東擊西敵難做。
In WIND SWEEPS THE LOTUS LEAVES, your left hand props up to guard your head
and your right foot crosses behind your left foot so that you are now looking to the rear.
Why worry about an opponent attacking from any direction?
By “threatening to the east but striking to the west”, you will make it hard for him to do anything.

接前式右足向左後方倒叉一步。足尖點地。右膝蓋抵住左腿彎。兩腿下彎。身體往下沉。同時右手向下垂。又往右往後拉。再往上托。胳膊彎曲。手指向左。手心向上。同時左手向左平出。手心向上。手指向左。手與肩平。身體向左。目注左手。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot does a crossing step to the left rear, the toes touching down, your right knee touching the back of your left knee, both legs bending, your body sinking down. At the same time, your right hand drops down, pulling to the right rear, then props up, the arm bent, the fingers pointing to the left, the palm facing upward, as your left hand goes out to the left, the palm facing upward, the fingers pointing to the left, the hand at shoulder level. Your torso is facing toward the left, your gaze toward your left hand. See photo 34:

第三十五式　順風擺柳
Posture 35: WIND SWAYS THE WILLOW

順風擺柳弔擄勢。我力無能借敵施。柔以致剛能變化。拳精尤貴快攻遲。
WIND SWAYS THE WILLOW is an example of “hanging & pulling”.
It is for when you are not in a position to borrow the opponent’s force.
Use softness in order to be able to switch back to hardness.
Boxing masters put great emphasis on using quickness to attack where there is slowness.

接前式左足向左前方進半步。足尖點地。足跟向後。兩腿微彎。同時左手向右向後擄。手與臍齊停住。同時右手向後向下按。按至心口之左方。與心口平。手心向下。雙手五指分開。手指相印。兩肩向外開勁。兩肘向內抖勁。身體向右。目注右手指尖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot advances a half step to the forward left [to be next to your right foot], the toes touching down, heel lifted, both legs slightly bent. At the same time, your left hand pulls to the right rear until level with your navel as your right hand pushes downward to the rear until level with and to the left of your solar plexus, the palm facing downward. The fingers of both hands are aligned with each other and are spread apart. Your shoulders have an energy of opening outward, but your elbows have an energy of squeezing inward. Your torso is facing toward the right, your gaze toward your right fingertips. See photo 35:

第三十六式　單鞭
Posture 36: SINGLE WHIP

單鞭順式一條線。右腿直蹬左腿彎。兩手握拳平正直。足踵實地穩如山。
SINGLE WHIP is in a straight stance [same hand and foot forward] and forms a line [with the arms].
Your right leg presses straight, your left leg bending.
Your hands grasp into fists and go straight out until level.
Your heels are solidly on the ground, your stance stable as a mountain.

接前式右手向裏。左手向下壓。兩手變拳。右手向右向後衝。左手向左向前衝。兩拳與肩平。同時左足前進半步。左腿下彎。右腿蹬直。兩手與兩腿上下成一垂直線。身體挺直。目注左手大指節根。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right [left] hand goes inward as your left [right] hand presses downward, both hands becoming fists, and then your right hand thrusts out behind you to the right as your left hand thrusts out forward to the left, both fists at shoulder level. At the same time, your left foot advances a half step and the leg bends, your right leg straightening. There is vertical line from each hand to its respective foot, and your body is upright. Your gaze is toward the large knuckle of the thumb of your left hand. See photo 36:

第三十七式　單擄手
Posture 37: SINGLE PULLING HAND [no verse]

接前式左手向下向後擄。右手不動。（擄手）與金龍合口相同。步法亦同。惟彼是雙手擄。此用單手擄耳。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left hand pulls downward to the rear, your right hand maintaining its position. The pulling hand technique is the same as in GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH [Posture 14], and the footwork is also the same, but in that case it is an action of double pulling hands and is here only a single hand pulling. See photo 37:

第三十八式　彩鳳囘頭。同十五式。
Posture 38: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD (same as Posture 15)

第三十九式　黑虎掏心。同第十式。
Posture 39: BLACK TIGER STEALS THE HEART (same as Posture 10) [reverse view]

第四十式　前進踢打
Posture 40: ADVANCE, KICK & HIT

進前踢打兩邊同。手足齊到方始攻。莫道簡單程式易。無窮奧妙在其中。
ADVANCE, KICK & HIT involves both sides working in unison,
hand and foot attacking together.
The technique seems simple, the posture easy,
and yet it is limitlessly profound.

接前式右手向後拉。歸抱肘式。右手向前平出。指尖衝前。手心向右。同時左腿向前踢。足尖用勁。兩腿挺直。兩胯向裏合住勁。右足向下蹬住勁。身體向前。目注左足足尖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right hand pulls back, returning to a wrapping-elbow posture, then its fingers thrust out forward, the hand level, the palm facing to the right. At the same time, your left leg kicks forward, power expressing at the toes, both legs straightening, the thighs closing inward, and your right foot has an energy of pressing downward. Your torso is facing forward, your gaze toward your left toes. See photo 40 [reverse view]:

第四十一式　左前進踢打。同四十式。
Posture 41: LEFT ADVANCE, KICK & HIT (same as Posture 40 [except with left and right reversed]) [There was originally no photo included here, but the posture can easily be shown by flipping the previous photo.]

第四十二式　迎門正跥。同二十四式。
Posture 42: KICKING STRAIGHT AHEAD (same as Posture 24)

第四十三式　魁星奪斗。同十二式。
Posture 43: KUIXING SEIZES THE BIG DIPPER (same as Posture 12) [reverse view]

第四十四式　葉底藏花。同第七式。
Posture 44: FLOWER HIDDEN UNDER THE LEAF (same as Posture 7 [but with only two retreating steps: left, then right]) [reverse view]

第四十五式　金龍合口。同十四式。
Posture 45: GOLDEN DRAGON CLOSES ITS MOUTH (same as Posture 14) [reverse view]

第四十六式　彩鳳囘頭。同十五式。
Posture 46: COLORFUL PHOENIX TURNS ITS HEAD (same as Posture 15) [reverse view]

第四十七式　靈獼護腦。同第五式。
Posture 47: CLEVER MACAQUE COVERS ITS HEAD (same as Posture 5)

第四十八式　渾元一氣
Posture 48: RETURNING TO YOUR ORIGINAL STATE

渾元一氣卽空提。雙手持拳心與齊。氣守中和能得法。自然入化到神奇。
In RETURNING TO YOUR ORIGINAL STATE, let go of the situation and rise up,
your hands as fists shifting to be level with your solar plexus.
By keeping your energy balanced, you will be able to obtain the art.
You will naturally transform yourself and achieve a magical skill.

接前式左右足向後各退半步。兩脚靠攏。兩腿微彎。左手變拳。右手握拳。抱於臍前。
Continuing from the previous posture, your feet each retreat a half step [left then right] to stand next to each other, your legs slightly bent, as your left [right] hand becomes fist and, together with your right [left] fist, is placed in front of your navel [solar plexus]. See photo 48:

再兩手下垂。歸立正式。
Then your hands hang down and you return to the posture of STANDING AT ATTENTION.

–

Seeking Identity with a T-Shirt: Uniforms in the Martial Arts

Posted on 12 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

A vintage photo captioned “Acrobatic School, Hong Kong” in pencil. Note the simple matching shirts and hats. Source: Author’s personal collection.

The Varieties of Uniformity

My Monday evening study-group just passes a milestone. Somehow it never even occurred to me that this was on the horizon, though I was the one who (inadvertently) set things in motion. An acquaintance organizes a local street festival and she generously offered to give our group booth space and some time for small demonstrations. I accepted her offer and, as I was starting to pull things together, decided that we could really use some T-shirts. Nothing all that formal, just enough to let people know who we were.

Many martial arts communities have standardized, highly “traditional,” uniforms. The elements of the Chinese martial arts world that I spend most of my time with do not. The Wing Chun school where I did most of my training even managed to resist the social pressure to adopt a system of colored belts or sashes. The only formal ranks we have are student, assistant instructor and Sifu. Likewise, we all trained in T-shirts and jogging pants. Some people wore shirts with the school’s logo, often the mementos of a previous seminar or summer-camp. The more vintage such a shirt was the more respect it commanded. But most people just wore random athletic clothing. Matching T-shirts were generally reserved for some sort of public event.

So, with a public event of my own on the horizon, it seemed high-time to order a bunch of shirts for my training group here in New York. That announcement unleashed a fair amount of enthusiasm and my students have spent the last few weeks designing images, selecting colors and comparison shopping for price quotes. These shirts have taken on a much more complex set of meanings than simply being a way to signal who we are in a crowd. In a way its all very predictable. Everyone in this group has been working hard for months, and the class is developing into a tight knit community. I suspect that all of this emotional energy has been invested into the process of buying these shirts. I hope they end up looking great as they now have a lot to live up to!

All of this got me thinking about the role of uniforms in the martial arts, and the differences that we see between styles and communities. Why is the training gear in some arts more formalized than others? What are they attempting to signal, and to who? Where did our notions of the “proper” martial arts uniform come from, and why does it change over time?

I suspect that pretty much everyone who practices martial arts wears a uniform, even if they are not aware of it. This does not mean that all uniforms have the same meaning, or that they come from the same place. Indeed, there is a huge amount of variation in the social construction of training clothing. While my Sifu’s school never had any sort of rules about training clothing, it was clear that a well-understood informal dress-code was in effect. Everyone wore nearly identical darkly colored T-shirts and jogging pants. Nor are they alone in this. As I have gone to various seminars and visited multiple schools, that same unspoken dress code seems to have spread quite widely throughout the Wing Chun community. From a sociological standpoint such a widely shared “uniform” is quite interesting, even if few of these communities would admit to having a “dress code.”

Still, it is the differences in the ways that schools approach this aspect of material culture that is truly revealing. To simplify what is a complex topic, one might think of any uniform as occupying a distinct place within a theoretical cube defined by three axis. The vertical axis might represent the question of centralization. Is your uniform defined and enforced by a central authority (high), or is it more a matter of group culture (low)?

The front axis can be thought of representing a uniform’s symbolic vs. functional attributes. Victor Turner noted that most material artifacts have both a practical and symbolic value. Both are always present, but possibly not in the same degree. The stylized helmets worn in Kendo suggest a high degree of practicality, whereas the stripes of colored tape that adorn the Taekwondo belts of my many nieces and nephews would seem to function only as motivational tools.

The back axis of our graph might be thought of as measuring the degree of individual expression that one sees in a uniform. They function as markers of community identity precisely because of their ability to make everyone appear “uniform.” And yet they must also express more individual characteristics, such as one’s rank or position in a community. On one end of the spectrum these markers may be kept to an absolute minimum (perhaps just a belt color). On the other side of the spectrum we might find the highly personalized armor favored by various HEMA fighters, or the explosion of patches on some Kempo uniforms. One might also think of this axis as a measure of the degree to which consumer power can be used to personalize one’s image within the fighting community.

Any of these uniforms can tell us, at a glance, where someone stands within the larger martial arts community. Kendo players do not look like silat students, and they all appear quite different from the guys who gather for “open mat night” at the local BJJ school. Yet I suspect that if we think about these uniforms in terms of the three axis of analysis outlined above, we might come up with some unexpected hypothesis about the differing social needs and functions that each of these communities fulfills, based on the sorts of material culture they exhibit. Alternatively, we might take a single school and think about how its uniform conventions have changed over time as a way of understanding that style’s unique historical evolution.

Rafu Dojo team at the Southern California Judo Tournament, April 1940. Collection of Yukio Nakamura. This photo was probably taken in the same decade as the one above. Source: http://www.discovernikkei.org/en/journal/2014/5/2/more-than-a-game-2

The Japanese and Chinese Cases

Perhaps there is no more striking example of this possibility than to consider the large archive of vintage photographs that I have collected on this blog over the years. A thought occurred to me as I looked over the various newspaper photographs, tourist pictures and postcards that I have posted. About half of these images show Chinese martial artists, and most of the rest focus on Japanese subjects. Yet instances of easily identifiable uniforms are not equally distributed across these two groups.

Looking at just my collection of vintage (pre-WWII) postcards I noted only one example where civilian Chinese martial artists could be seen wearing a martial arts training uniform. And even in that instance the significance of their clothing was probably lost on Western viewers as not everyone in the picture was wearing exactly the same thing. The only time that Chinese martial artists were reliably uniformed seemed to be when they were lion dancing or otherwise part of a public festival. On the flip side, every single postcard of Japanese martial artists featured crisp white training uniforms, or matching rows of kendo gear.

Without a sufficient background in the social and cultural history of both countries, one might well misinterpret what was going on in these photographs, or extrapolate too much from them. For instance, one might look at these two sets of images and erroneously conclude that the uniforms tell a story about modernism, in either its economic, cultural or national sense. In that case the prominence of standardized uniforms within the Japanese martial arts might be taken as a sign of the country’s successfully modernization and the victory of nationalism over regional identity. Likewise, their absence in the Chinese case could indicate a certain “failure to launch.” Indeed, it seems likely that this was exactly the message that many Westerners absorbed when they encountered these images in the early and mid 20^thcentury. But was it really the case?

Let us begin by considering developments in Japan. While many martial arts historians have written on the appearance of colored belts (first in judo, then in karate and other arts), I would like to instead turn our attention to the development of the ubiquitous training gi that they adorned. The samurai did not train in these garments, so where did they come from?

As is the case with so much else in the modern martial arts, they sprung from the fertile mind of Kano Jigoro. Lance Gatling, a student of Japanese martial arts history with an interest in the history of uniforms, notes that in the 19^thcentury Kano drew his students from two vastly different backgrounds. Naturally these sociological cohorts dressed quite differently. Those coming from wealthy and socially elite households wore the latest fashions. His less privileged students, who often lived with him and acted as houseboys in exchange for tuition, lacked hygienic and functional training clothing of any kind. Calling on his background as an educator, it was clear to Kano that some sort of uniform was needed for both practical and symbolic reasons (Gatling, The Kano Chronicles).

Gatling notes that Kano adapted the hada juban, an inner-tunic worn underneath the kimono, for use as a training garment. This was done by commissioning examples made from heavier fabrics that could withstand judo’s jacketed throws. Later the garment was expanded to cover the knees and elbows to prevent abrasions or injuries on the rough training mats of the day. Simple belts were worn to keep the jacket in place. Of course Kano later introduced a simplified system of symbolically colored belts when his classes became large enough that he could not easily visually locate his senior students.

All of this set a pattern that still conditions much of the public’s imagination as to how a proper martial art should appear. For instance, when karate was introduced to mainland Japan from Okinawa, judo style uniforms were introduced to improve the arts’ public image and bolster its claims to social respectability. And while colored belts are in no way traditional to the Chinese martial arts, it seems that most kung fu schools today have some sort of colored sash system simply to placate the demands of consumers.

Kano’s many marital arts reforms did not come about in a vacuum. Japan was a rapidly modernizing and industrializing nation. He actively sought to create a corps of patriotic young men who could advance the Japanese cause at home or abroad, in military service or civil society. Thus, the creation of truly uniform training gear, recognizable in any dojo one might enter, had important symbolic meanings. This was an outward sign of the creation of an inwardly powerful and cohesive national consciousness. To wear a gi and participate in judo training was to experience Kano’s vision of the modern Japan nation on an embodied level.

This contrasts with the situation in China. Perhaps the most traditional form of training attire seen in that country’s many hand copied martial arts manuals (and a number of European postcards), was simply to strip to the waist, wrap one’s que around the head or neck, and get to work at a dusty or muddy outdoor “boxing ground.” Such attire was practical, yet it signaled little about the relationship between the martial arts and the community at large. In other cases Qing era boxers can be seen performing in markets wearing generic heavily padded jackets to ward off the cold. If Japan signaled its modernism and nationalism through its uniforms, one might conclude that China’s backward and politically fractured status also came out in its lack of standardized training attire. That is probably why later Republican groups, like the Jingwu Association, went to such great lengths to create signature uniforms of their own (in their case the white buttoned jacket with the Jingwu logo).

While an attractive narrative, I think that this risks missing much of what was actually happening. The danger is that we have focused only on a single axis when in fact uniforms represent a more complex field of meaning. For instance, Gatling notes that most early training gi were not purchased from a martial arts supplier as might be the case today. Rather they were made by Japanese housewives and mothers according to patterns that were distributed in either magazines or by schools. Indeed, it may be just as interesting to consider the ways in which huge numbers of Japanese women experienced Kano’s nationalism as they painstakingly hand sewed these uniforms for their sons and husbands, rather than engaging in training themselves. Thus we need to be careful that we do not equate vertically enforced uniformity with economic industrialization or a lack of individual artistic expression.

There is also the interesting question of who gets photographed. Most of the Japanese postcards in my collection were produced by Japanese photographers for sale to Japanese consumers. As such, they tended to focus on the sorts of progressive, middle class, scenes that Japanese consumers wanted to see. When modern scholars examine this ephemera we tend to see well stocked martial arts schools in reasonably urban areas. We forget that in the countryside most students toiling in their school’s dojo lacked gi’s and many practiced in regular physical education uniforms. Likewise, as more students were rushed into judo and kendo training as these disciplines were militarized in the run-up to WWII, it was increasingly common to find students simply putting their armor over their normal school uniforms. Gatling finds that while one might think that the rise in militarism would manifest itself in the spread of uniforms and the tightening of dress codes, in fact the opposite happened. In any case, this sort of nuance was unlikely to show up on commercially produced postcards.

A typical pre-1911 market place demonstration featuring socially marginal martial artists.

Most postcards showing Chinese martial artists were produced by European photographers and were sold to Western audiences. They typically focused on more “rustic” street performances, poor soldiers or questionable bandits. All of these groups were relatively marginal and (with the exception of the soldiers) unlikely to wear any sort of uniform. Images of bare chested martial artists remained common throughout the 1920s. But this doesn’t mean that uniforms were absent within the Chinese martial arts.

The Republic period actually saw a proliferation of uniforms. The situation was different than in Japan as no single template emerged as the clear winner. Instead many things were happening at the same time. Most of these Chinese efforts were forward looking and modern in their sentiment. This could be seen in the Jingwu Association’s crisp white jackets, or the sportscoats, knickers and canvas belts that Ma Liang dressed his military exhibition teams in. Many reformers filled their manuals with photos of teachers and students who looked as though they were about to head out for a round of golf. In other cases the traditional robes of Confucian scholars were favored by more senior members of the community. I have often wondered whether relatively affluent Chinese martial artists during the 1920s-1930s insisted on working out in their street clothes in an effort to draw a conscious distinction between their understanding of community and the one advanced by the Japanese martial arts.

More practical were the working-class schools in cities like Guangzhou and Hong Kong. During the Republic period innumerable classes and lion dance societies began to adopt identical, mass-produced, t-shirts. Some of these were marked with the name of a school, while others were simply blank. Indeed, the practice of matching t-shirts being worn at a street festival has a long and distinguished history with the Chinese martial arts. In actual fact they may be just as “traditional” as karate’s signature uniform, both of which date roughly the same period during the interwar years. And both have proven to be remarkably stable over time. They succeed precisely because they signal different sets of values and understandings of the community.

I made this slide for another paper, but it gives us a nice comparison of the “traditional” and “modern” training uniforms in the Southern Chinese martial arts. And there is always that one guy who doesn’t get the memo…

Conclusion

Uniforms are inevitably symbolic representations of the communities that produced them. My students are excited to order a group of T-shirts not because of any practical need. Instead they are an expression of a new set of relationships, values and understanding of the self. Clothing speaks both to the individual and larger audiences, stabilizing and celebrating our collective achievements.

When reviewing the Martial Arts Studies literature I am often surprised that we have little to say on the question of material culture within the martial arts. We explore these fighting traditions as both embodied practices and media discourses. We look at their history and engage in conceptual debates. Yet little thought is given to the systematic examination of the uniforms, the training tools, the weapons and even the real estate that we all depend on.

When studying “primitive” societies Anthropologists took a keen interest in understanding and analyzing the various facets of material culture. They realized that these objects held both utilitarian and symbolic value. They were the physical manifestation of social and cultural values. Some of the insights that they suggest could not really be grasped through other modes of analysis.

I would like to propose that all of this also holds true for students of martial arts studies. Purchasing objects is one of the main modes of social activity that we see in an andvanced industrialized society, and that makes it doubly important to look carefully at the physical culture that is being consumed. I suggested a fairly simple framework to help us think more carefully about the varieties of uniforms in this article, and I am sure that there are other models that would have been just as helpful. Regardless of what theoretical lens you choose to adopt, the next time you are visiting a school and someone hands you a t-shirt, a uniform or a training weapon, think carefully about the full range of values that they are expressing. Our material culture often says more about our communities than we might care to admit.

oOo

If you enjoyed this reflection you might also want to read: Folklore in the Southern Chinese Martial Arts: A Means to Create Economic “Value” or to Construct Social “Values?”

oOo

Corso insegnante base Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai

Posted on 11 Ottobre 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Corso di formazione per insegnante base di Taijiquan Chen ortodosso di Chenjiagou, Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai.

Il corso è focalizzato e destinato ad una selezione di studenti invitati e candidati per la formazione quali insegnanti di livello base.

Aperto anche a tutti i praticanti che desiderino approfondire i contenuti del Taijiquan ortodosso di Chenjiagou, la storia e la pedagogia del Taijiquan secondo il metodo e gli insegnamenti di Zhu Tiancai e di suo figlio Zhu Xiangqian (è richiesta la conoscenza del Changsigong, Laojia Yilu e Tuishou)

I contenuti sono stati organizzati in sei moduli di studio a ciascuno dei quali è previsto che siano dedicate due lezioni.
Ai partecipanti sarà rilasciato il relativo attestato di partecipazione al corso.
Ai candidati esaminandi sarà richiesto di sostenere un esame finale pratico e scritto con il conseguimento del diploma, in riferimento a quanto stabilito dall’Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai.

I modulo (I lezione Mercoledì 17 Ottobre 2018, 21:30 – 23:00 Scuola di Danza New Project Dance)
Riscaldamento, allungamento e defaticamento
Taijigong (pali del Taiji)
Chansigong (bozzolo di seta)
Terminologia Wushu e Taijiquan

II modulo
Changsigong in coppia
Laojia 13 movimenti
Tuishou ad una mano
Storia del Taijiquan
Contenuti tecnici

III modulo
Laojia Yilu 1/3
Tuishou a due mani passo fisso
Storia del Taijiquan
Contenuti tecnici
Pedagogia Laojia Yilu

IV modulo
Laojia Yilu 2/3
Tuishou a due mani con passi
Storia del Taijiquan
Contenuti tecnici
Pedagogia Laojia Yilu

V modulo
Laojia Yilu 3/3
Tuishou a due mani con passi
Storia del Taijiquan
Contenuti tecnici
Pedagogia Laojia Yilu

VI modulo
Prova pratica lezione
Eventuali integrazioni
Test scritto
Correzione ed eventuali integrazioni

Le lezioni saranno condotte da Stefano Zamblera e si svolgeranno a partire da Mercoledì 17 Ottobre presso la Scuola di Danza New Project Dance in Via di Collinaia, 8, 57128 Livorno, dalle 21:30 alle 23:00.

Il calendario programmato in 12 incontri è il seguente. Potrebbero avvenire variazioni di data ed orario per venire incontro alle esigenze della Società Sportiva e degli utenti del corso.

17 e 31 Ottobre

14 e 28 Novembre

5 e 19 Dicembre

9 e 23 Gennaio 2019

13 e 27 Febbraio

13 e 27 Marzo

10 Aprile

Per ogni ulteriore informazione: livorno@tiancai-taiji.it

A (Taijiquan) Mystery in Yellow

Posted on 8 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

An English language edition of Chen Yanlin’s volume. While covers might be blue, red, yellow or purple, the dust jackets were typically the same yellow design seen on the original 1947 Shanghai release.

Unanswered Questions

Everyone likes a good mystery. They engage, they motivate and (whether we want to admit it or not) they make the hours vanish. That certainly explains at least part of the popularity of historical studies of the Chinese martial arts. Decades of nationalist myth-making and inspired entrepreneurial marketing have helped to create the impression that it is the veneer of history that determines the value of these practices. That has never actually been true. Still, once you move past the illusions of history and begin to dig into the sources, it is disturbingly easy to lose a weekend.

Let’s begin today’s investigation by asking two simple questions. What was the first English language book on the Chinese martial arts, and when was it published. Of course, such questions are never really that simple. If we were to count as a “book” rough translations of Chinese language martial arts manuals republished in an English language magazine, the answer would be sometime in the 1870s. If we insisted on two hard covers, but relaxed the requirement of commercial sales, then we have the case of a little-known English language xingyi quan manual (produced by a famous Chinese track and field coach) in the 1920s.

Still, neither of these answers feel quite right. While both are important in their own right, these weren’t the sort of “books” that one might find sitting on a shelf in a shop. Perhaps we should begin by narrowing things down a bit. What was the first commercially printed English language book on Taijiquan to be widely distributed to a mass audience? If asked that way, it would seem that the answer must be Sophia Delza’s 1961 Tai Chi Chuan: Body and Mind in Harmony, a book that I have previously discussed here and here.

At least that is what I would have thought up until recently. I will readily admit to being neither a student of taijiquan, or an expert on its history, my own interests being more focused on the Southern arts. Still, I have tried to keep up with everything published on the martial arts in the Republic period (1911-1949). As such I was vaguely aware of Chen Yanling’s controversial 1943 book, Taiji Compiled: Boxing, Saber, Sword, Pole and Sparring. What I had missed was that this book was translated into English and distributed by at least three different Shanghai publishers in 1947. By the 1960s additional English language translations would be produced in Taiwan and Hong Kong, and a number of these volumes would find their way into American and British martial arts schools.

Whether Delza’s volume, or a pirated edition of Chen’s, showed up in your neighborhood book store first remains an open question. After a week trying to piece together this volume’s publication history I can safely declare that there is still quite a bit that we don’t know. I would go so far as to suggest that we have a minor mystery on our hands. Still, its early date of publication and wide circulation suggests that this book may be worth considering in greater detail. If nothing else, its existence signals a growing curiosity about the Chinese martial arts long before the Kung Fu Craze of the 1970s came to fruition.

A typical example of the line drawn illustration in both the Chinese and English language edition of Chen, derived from earlier published photographs.

A Yang Family Controversy

Before delving into the publication history of the English language edition, it may be helpful to know a little more about Chen Yanling’s original volume. Anyone interested in checking out this work can find a copy at the Brennan Translations blog. Even a quick glance at the table of contents is enough to signal that this was a substantial work, and quite different from many of the simple technical manuals that dominated the era’s martial arts markets. Chen’s work was appreciated as he sought to develop new philosophical concepts within the study of Taijiquan. Rather than simply rehashing the ancient myths he also looked at the art’s more recent history, particularly as it pertained to the experiences of the Yang family. His work provided discussions of not just the solo unarmed set, but also push-hands and no fewer than three weapons. Readers could even find material from the Taiji Classics and Yang family teaching traditions in his publication. Needless to say, his book made quite a splash when it was released in 1943.

Not all of this attention was positive. Chen’s work proved to be quite controversial within some corners of the Yang style. This was not so much a concern about the reliability of what he said, but the more complex question of whether he had the right to say it at all. Rumors started to spread that somehow Chen had swindled Yang Cheng-fu out of his family patrimony.

The story went that Chen, a diligent student, had approached Yang Cheng-fu and asked to borrow the family’s private manual for a single evening of study. Knowing that anyone’s ability to work through such complex material in a single night was limited, Yang Cheng-fu relented. However, he was unaware that Chen had hired seven copyists who would fully transcribe the book that night. This material would then become the basis of this own 1943 publication, much to the displeasure of the Yang family. This would force them to eventually release their own version of these texts.

As martial arts legends go, I quite like this story. It reveals much about the values and anxieties of the individuals who passed it around. But that is the actual intelligence value of any rumor. They always reveal more about the motivations and fears of those who tell them, rather than their purported subjects.

While the controversy that Chen instigated was real, its actual causes were more prosaic. When discussing this book in a recent exchange with Douglas Wile, he noted that Chen Yanlin was in fact a student of Tian Zhaolin, who was a student of Yang Jianhou, the son of Yang Luchan. Chen’s manuscript was actually based on the study and transcriptions of Tian Zhaolin’s teachings. In point of fact, the drive to systematically record this material (a common project during the Republic era) had been a collective undertaking led by several of Tian’s students. They were enraged when Chen put his name on what had been, in their view, a collective project. Wile related that the group was actually preparing to take Chen to court over his “theft” when Tian intervened to restore the peace between his students.

This bit of the manuscript’s history makes for a compelling story. But the real mysteries emerge four years later, in 1947. In many ways this was not a great era for the Chinese martial arts. The country’s long running civil war was heating up, the Guoshu Institute was in tatters and, after the initial enthusiasm for the dadao troops had subsided, the Chinese martial arts had taken a beating in the country’s newspapers over the course of the second world war. Given all of this, it might come as a surprise to learn that there was actually a small (but notable) spike in interest in the Chinese martial arts in the West during the late 1940s.

In an apparent attempt to capitalize on this interest, an English language edition of Chen’s book was released in Shanghai in 1947 by the well-known Willow Pattern Press. The edition was titled Tai-Chi Chuan: Its Effects and Practical Applications, and the author was listed as Yearning K. Chen. This latest iteration of the manuscript must have been a time consuming undertaking. Library catalogs list Kuo Shui-chang as the translator (I must rely on them as I do not own a personal copy of the Willow Patterns Press edition). C. C. Chiu offered a new preface, specifically intended for Western audiences. It provided a health and wellness focused overview of the art, and a brief introduction to its author.

Sadly, I have not been able locate any substantive information on Kuo or Chiu. That is an issue as even a cursory examination of the text reveals that what they provided is not a typical “translation” of Chen’s text. Large parts of Chen’s text (including many of this more detailed discussions, and everything on Taijiquan’s history) have been left out of this volume. In their place Western readers would find short introductions designed to get them up to speed on topics such as “Yin” and “Yang”, as well as the definition of Chinese boxing and taijiquan’s relationship to both philosophy and the martial arts.

The differences did not stop there. These introductory notes were followed by multiple full chapters that attempted to rationalize the discussion of taijiquan and to present it to Western audiences within a scientific framework. Topics covered included the art’s relationship with physiology, psychology and physics. This last chapter, which featured a “proof” of the application of Newton’s laws to the martial arts, can only be described as a triumph of “scientism.” It would have made even the most diehard guoshu modernizer proud. Its pages featured rows of orderly equations and geometric diagrams. To ask who “translated” this volume is really to inquire as to who wrote what was in many respects an independent book on taijiquan designed to cater to the (perceived) tastes of educated Western readers.

A modern (and mechanical) approach to taijiquan, featured in all of the English language editions of Chen. This specific example was printed in Hong Kong during the 1960s.

That said, this was not an entirely original undertaking. The substantive discussions of both the solo form and push hands were taken directly from Chen, as were his pen and ink illustrations. Yet even here, some subtle changes can be noted. The Chinese language inserts that had labeled these illustrations in Chen’s original volume were deleted but not replaced in the English books. Further, whoever wrote the new English text was familiar with, and had an appreciation for, Chen’s arguments. While many of the discussions were new, care was taken to paraphrase quotes from the Chinese version. These were distributed creatively throughout the English language text as its chapters and introductory discussions did not align with the underlying Chinese “original.”

In short, Kuo Shui-chang did not provide readers with a faithful translation of Chen’s work. The entire first half of this book might be better thought of as a translation of a work that Chen did not actually write, but might have if he wished to appeal to a room full of western engineers and educators. In that sense the real value of this work is what it suggests about the growing demand for English language information in the late 1940s, and how elite Chinese martial artists perceived that cross-cultural desire.

Perhaps the clearest indication of the size of this demand would be the massive piracy campaign that this book experienced. The original Willow Pattern Press edition was released in 1947. Yet because of lax intellectual property rights, the book was quickly picked up by other distributors. 1947 dated editions were also produced in Shanghai by P. D. Boss and Millington. While I assume that Willow printed the original book, it is actually hard to confirm the order in which they appeared.

Booksellers in Hong Kong also expressed enthusiasm for the volume. Numerous, almost identical, printings were released that listed no publishing house or date. Many of these volumes listed their price as either “$10” or “H.K. $10.” It is probably impossible to date these books with precision, but it seems that they were produced sometime in the 1960s. I have a Hong Kong copy with a red cover, as opposed to the original Shanghai release that was blue. Other colors can be found as well. The version produced by the Sun Wah Printing Company may have been more legitimate than the others as they at least printed their name and the address of their offices on the title page.

By the 1960s these volumes began to find their way into circulation (and libraries) in the West, though I have not been able to determine if they had an official American distributor. I ran across one account of a student whose taiji class used this text as part of their study material during the 1960s. But that was not the end of the volume’s complex publishing history. Pan American Books in Taipei (Taiwan) released their own undated edition of the volume (probably in the 1970s). And by the late 1970s multiple American publishing houses took advantage of the volume’s confused ownership to release their own editions. The 1979 New Castle printing seems to be the most commonly encountered, though there are several others.

I have not had an opportunity to track down copies of all of these printings and subject them to a detailed comparison. That would no doubt be interesting, and it might reveal more about this book’s circuitous travels through the post-war global environment. A detailed study of the similarities between Chen’s original 1943 volume and its strangely independent 1947 Shanghai translation could also be quite interesting for what it might reveal about the different intended audiences of both books.

While some details of this mystery are likely to remain unsolved, what we know about Chen’s book is quite interesting. During the course of my historical research I had basically concluded that Zhang, Chu and the other guoshu reformers had basically failed to create an image of the Chinese martial arts that would be appealing to Western readers or martial artists. In many ways Chen’s translated volume is a natural intellectual successor to their efforts, and its tortured publishing history suggests that there may have been a lot more demand than I was able to previously estimate from personal reminisces and newspaper accounts alone. After all, no one bothers to pirate a book that doesn’t sell, and this book managed to stay in print for a very long time.

Cheng’s effort was the first English language book commercially printed on taijiquan, though Delza’s volume almost certainly arrived on the shelves of most American martial artists first. Still, Cheng has much to teach us, not only about the practice of taijiquan, but its post-war migration throughout the global system.

Acknowledgements: Special thanks go to two individuals who made this essay possible. First, I would like to thank Qin Qin (秦琴) from Henan Polytechnic University for sharing with me the discovery of a 1947 P. B. Boss edition of Tai-Chi-Chuan: Its Effects and Practical Applications. That was really what got me interested in looking more deeply at Chen’s contributions to the global spread of the art. Thanks also go to Douglas Wile for providing invaluable context regarding the true origin of the controversy that surrounded the book’s 1943 publication.

oOo

If you enjoyed this discussion you might also want to read: Prof. Maofu Gong Discusses the State of Folk Wushu and Martial Arts Studies in China Today

oOo

Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai

Posted on 5 Ottobre 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

L’associazione rappresenta in Italia l’Istituto Tiancai Taiji, fondato dal maestro Zhu Tiancai per diffondere il suo metodo nel mondo. Il maestro ne è presidente onorario ed il figlio Zhu Xiangqian responsabile tecnico. L’associazione opera a Ferrara e Bondeno, Firenze, Livorno, Roma, Ronchi dei Legionari (Gorizia) e Treviso (Santa Lucia di Piave) Per informazioni: info@tiancai-taiji.it

L’articolo Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai proviene da 意大利天才太极院.

Martial Arts and Restoring the Body Politic

Posted on 5 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Jackie Chan’s remix of the Karate Kid is, among other things, an interesting commentary on the ability of the martial arts to create unexpected communities.

Are Martial Arts Political?

My friend, Paul Bowman, recently asked the rhetorical question, “Should martial arts be active or passive players in politics?” The question is rhetorical in a double sense. Paul never directly answers his own query, but instead outlines for readers of the Cardiff University School of Journalism’s blog some of the questions that we have been grappling with in the last few months. It is rhetorical in another sense because on some level it does not really matter what anyone’s answer is. One may wish to see your school have more or less political involvement, yet as a matter of basic historical fact the martial arts have often been actively involved in the major political debates of the day.

This was true in Japan in the late Meiji period, China during the Republic and Korea in second half of the 20^thcentury. Bruce Lee was quickly adopted as a critical figure in American debates on racial equality, and Wing Chun materials produced in Germany during the 1970s and 1980s frequently opined on that country’s changing social mores. In the current era Wing Chun has again emerged as a master symbol of Cantonese culture as debates over the extent of local independence heat up in Hong Kong. And we have all been discussing the attempts of the Rise Above Movement (and other violent extremist groups) to employ the martial arts in their various organizational and recruitment efforts here in the US. Indeed, our most basic understandings of the martial arts arose in large part out of the nationalist, anti-imperialist and ideological conflicts that shaped the 20^thcentury. Seen from a macro-historical perspective, how could we believe that the martial arts are anything other than overtly political?

Yet on a day to day level most martial art training doesn’t seem to have anything to do with politics. Obviously, there are a few exceptions. Some capoeira schools might emphasize social equality in their selection of music or community activities. Likewise, the alt-right fight clubs that have been so much in the news seem to make a point of framing their activities through an overtly political lens. But in my (admittedly limited) experiences, these situations are the outliers, and not the norm. The challenges that most Western students face in the training hall are overwhelmingly personal and physical in nature. The frustration, pain and elation of training seem to fall on everyone, irrespective of ideology. It is these very personal experiences that dominate our practice.

Yet the personal has a way of becoming political. As I have previously noted, embodied experience, while engulfing in the moment, is never self-interpreting. Nor are identities self-constructing. Each of us receives a wide range of social, familial, economic, cultural and political cues as we attempt to sort out “what just happened” and “what sort of person am I.” If we were a student doing Kendo katas in the 1930s, the answer to that last question was quite clear. Through diligent training education officials intended that you would realize that you were a subject of the Emperor who knew that “death was as lighter than a feather.” One understood what it meant to be part of this shared category by taking part in a shared activity with all of the nation’s other school children. In the proper hands (or the wrong ones), the martial arts would seem to be machines for the construction of what Benedict Anderson called “imagined communities.”

Our personal experience of the martial arts is by definition an individual matter, and one that often appears far removed from political considerations. It is widely considered to be a breach of etiquette to bring up politics in the training hall (a point that I want to explore below). Yet the martial arts cannot exist as a purely solitary activity. As everyone who has ever examined these practices has noted, they are fundamentally social in nature. They arise from, and give new life to, social communities. Politics, in turn, is the mechanism by which societies allocate resources and responsibilities to various groups. While many individuals are drawn to the martial arts because they seek a uniquely personal experience of individual empowerment, the social nature of our communities makes them vulnerable to many competing political claims.

Prof. Stephen Chan discussing the finer points of the art with a group of students.

Understanding “Normal Politics”

How one evaluates this conclusion will vary. I suspect that for many readers the discovery that the martial arts are inherently political would be something of a disappointment. Given the ever-growing levels of polarization and acrimony between the left and right in both Europe and North America, many of us are actively looking for communities that offer a reprieve from the constant state of social warfare that we find in our social media feeds or on the 24-hour news cycle. I myself am highly sympathetic to this sentiment. It is hard to escape the feeling that the very word “politics” has come to be tainted.

Still, as a political scientist by training, I tend to see everything as having a “political” aspect. One might call it an occupational hazard. Yet politics actually takes many forms, several of which are not all that closely related to polarized left-right debates of the day. As a means of resolving our differences, within a nation, a community or an organization, politics is usually a better option than conflict or violence. Indeed, the creation of the right sorts of political institutions and norms can lead to long periods of stability, growth and social harmony.

The assertion that the martial arts are, and have always been, inherently political should not be seen as a condemnation. Rather, it simply acknowledges the fact that the communities we create are socially meaningful. We do not just generate feelings of personal empowerment. Through our practice we create ideas, norms, networks, and reserves of social and human capital. We cannot really understand the roles and meanings of the martial arts in the modern world without thinking carefully about the political implications of all of this.

Recently the association between certain violent white nationalist organizations and peripheral aspects of the MMA community has been grabbing headlines. Within the martial arts community this has been debated here and here. In my own response to these stories I attempted to introduce some basic principles from institutional analysis to ask how the spread of violent ideologies within something like the martial arts community might be contained.

All of this represents a good first cut at the problem. But if we are going to have a sustained discussion on the relationship between politics and martial arts, I suspect that these sorts of extreme cases might not be where we actually want to start. Before delving into the pathologies of political conflict, it is helpful to study more typical cases of ordinary competition. Only once we have established a baseline of how the martial arts might become involved in “normal” political disputes will have an ability to understand what has gone wrong in these other cases. Better yet, as we establish a baseline it becomes clear that under a fairly wide set of conditions martial arts communities can actually play an important role in bridging conflicts, building social trust and preventing the spread of violence. Indeed, seemingly apolitical choices regarding the structure and regulation of these communities, rather than anything inherent in the embodied practice of the martial arts themselves, will have a critical impact on their ultimate social destiny.

A class photo from a local lightsaber combat group in Ithaca NY. Note, this is not the community described in the text.

The Way of the Lightsaber: A Star Wars Story

How might the martial art actually help to repair a fractured political discourse? Perhaps an example from my recent ethnographic research with a hyper-real martial arts community might help to illustrate this potential.

It may come as a surprise to discover that not everyone in the lightsaber combat community is a diehard Star Wars “super-fan.” In my personal experience most hardcore fans, while they might collect lightsabers, do not find the notion of daily training in their use all that interesting. Likewise, while I have never met a person in a lightsaber combat class that really disliked the the Star Wars franchise, maybe half of the people could only be classified as “causal fans.” Indeed, it seems that more people actually stay in the lightsaber classes for the martial arts training and comradery than the Star Wars per se. That probably explains why one (paradoxically) does not always hear a lot of discussion of the films or other properties before, during or after your average class.

Still, there are the occasional exceptions. In one such case, earlier this spring, an emotionally charged debate briefly erupted about the merits of Rian Johnson’s highly controversial film, “The Last Jedi” (TLJ). One student (a young working-class Caucasian male), began to hold forth as to how the film was a political insult, overtly feminist and actually part of a well planned conspiracy by the Disney corporation to drive fans like him away so that they could “steal” the franchise for themselves. Statements like this are pretty common in on-line fan discussions, but not in this particular lightsaber class. It was all the more shocking as this particular student had never really expressed any animus towards the franchise before. In fact, he had never expressed any sort of political opinions at all.

What followed was a sharp exchange with a couple of other students who objected either to his perceived attacks on specific social issues (in this case gender inequality) or his notion that Disney somehow needed to “steal” a property that they already owned simply to spite him. At this point he declared that he was done with Star Wars and would be boycotting all future films, but not, of course lightsaber practice. Everyone left unhappy. Still, the next week everyone was back as if nothing had happened.

I have no idea whether the student in question made good on this threat to boycott the upcoming film, Solo: A Star Wars Story. I should probably ask him sometime. But in a sense, it doesn’t really matter. This guy is one of the more senior students at the Central Lightsaber Academy and a real stalwart of the local community. At the time he made two things perfectly clear: his utter contempt for what he saw as a personal political attack by Rian Johnson which “ruined Star Wars” and, secondly, that no matter how angry he was about this, it wasn’t going to impact his place in the lightsaber combat community. Nor has it. I forgot that this incident had happened until a recent article in the news sent me back to review some of my fieldnotes.

As anyone who follows the Star Wars fandom can attest, arguments such as the one documented above have been very common occurrences in the wake of the TLJ. Unfortunately, they don’t all have such tidy resolutions. Like so much else in our current environment, Star Wars has become a highly politicized subject. Progressive fans and commentators have associated characters like Princess Leia, Rose Tico or Rey with not only “The Resistance” against the First Order (a fascist political movement shown in the new trilogy), but also “the resistance” against Donald Trump. In an attempt to make amends for previous charges that the series marginalized minority or female characters, Disney has actively moved these progressive discussions to the forefront of multiple Star Wars properties. And while many fans have been happy to accept some projects (Rogue One has proved to be quite popular) while rejecting other films that they found to be flawed on a technical level (often The Last Jedi), a not insignificant and vocal minority of critics have connected their dislike of the recent films to a pattern of alt-right, misogynist and racist trolling.

Yet when looking at a heated facebook thread it can often be difficult to determine the size of these groups separate from simply their volume. Cultural critics have been left to wonder how much of this debate was being driven by Rian Johnson’s questionable directorial decisions (specifically, the pacing of the Casino sub-plot, and the general irreverence with which Luke Skywalker was treated), and how much of it was overtly political. In other words, was Johnson’s movie really that divisive, or did an already polarized American public simply adopt his film as a yet another proxy battlefield in the era’s raging political debates?

Morten Bay, a newly minted UCLA PhD and current post-doc at the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School, recently decided to find out. He has posted an unpublished draft of a study that began by collecting all of the tweets directed to Rian Johnson for a seven-month period following the release of TLJ. These were coded as negative, neutral or positive, and then used to construct a database describing all of the accounts that had publicly engaged Johnson in the debate. (Obviously this debate happened in many other places as well, but the author was forced to stick to a sample set of about a thousand observations by the all too familiar constraints of budget, time and computing power.)

Interested readers can review Bay’s work here. I have quite a few thoughts on this paper (and a number of criticisms) but will resist doing a full review as it would take us to far afield from the politicization of the martial arts. Still, the broad contours of his findings are interesting and most likely reliable.

While the majority of Star Wars fans actually liked The Last Jedi, there was a sizable, and very vocal, minority who did not. And while some of them were genuine Star Wars fans who simply objected to Rian Johnson’s directorial choices (and sometimes engaged in troll-like behavior), a careful analysis of all twitter accounts in the dataset suggested that others were something else entirely. Bay found evidence that a large number of accounts egging on this corner of the twitter debate were linked to individuals who showed little interest in Star Wars and instead functioned as conservative or alt-right activists. More disturbingly about 5% of these accounts closely fit the profile of the Russian troll farms that had waged a campaign to sow social chaos and disinformation during the 2016 presidential election. Bay was able to confirm his suspicions when he showed that several of the most prolific accounts targeting Rian Johnson were later closed by Twitter in its purge of accounts known to be operated by Russian troll farms.

The Zheng Manqing’s students in his Manhattan school. Source: http://www.tai-chifilm.com/whatistaichi

Martial Arts and the “Social Cleavage” Problem

The good news is that if you have found yourself thinking that the recent discussion of pop culture franchises have become overly political, it is not just you. These properties have developed into sites of sustained political debates and even (at times) information warfare by those who wish to publicize claims of “social chaos” in the Western democracies. Even the entertainment franchises that used to unify society through a few hours of simple escapism are increasingly being weaponized as part of larger political conflicts.

It was Bay’s paper that inspired me to look back over my own fieldnotes for this period. I was forced to wonder at the different ways that similar debates played themselves out online versus within a lightsaber combat school. In both cases basic demographic characteristics were highly correlated with the roles that people assumed in arguing for or against TLJ.

Social scientists have known for some time that in the modern West political affiliation is just about the most fundamental type of identity that most people have. Indeed, Americans will switch religions to fit their politics long before they modify their political beliefs to satisfy the demands of religious teaching. Likewise, demographic factors (race, gender, education level, income, etc…) also tend to be highly correlated with partisan identification. It is thus not difficult to believe that the argument that erupted in the Central Lightsaber Academy that day was perhaps only peripherally about Rian Johnson. It stung the involved individuals precisely because personal frustrations and political identities lurked in the background.

This is also when a social scientist would expect to see some sort of more fundamental rupture in a community. When personal characteristics such as income, education, gender and ethnicity become politically salient they are called “social cleavages.” These divisions can structure large scale conflicts in both society and the polity (e.g., the working class vs. capitalist, urban vs. rural values, male votes vs. female votes).

Democracy tends to work the most efficiently when the various cleavages do not overlap. In that case a political party might sometimes form an alliance with urban factory workers, and in the next instance with rural agricultural interests. That sort of flexibility makes compromise easier and it tends to moderate political polarization. After all, your antagonists on one issue may be your allies tomorrow. In such a situation our cleavages are said to be “cross-cutting.” It is more complicated when our cleavages perfectly align with each other. When we can always guess someone’s party alignment based on their economic class, race and whether they live in an urban or rural mailing code, it becomes vastly more difficult for parties to make deals and reach compromises. The winning and losing coalitions are simply too stable. Neither side will have an incentive to lessen polarization, and politics rapidly becomes a zero-sum game. In this situation trust erodes, and in a few cases one side or the other will begin to look for ways to capture more of the gains of the political system by excluding the other from full participation in the decision-making process. That is the difference between vigorous debate within a democratic framework and a politically extremist attempt to unilaterally change the nature of the political community.

At least this is what we typically teach our students about social cleavages and voting in introductory classes on voting theory. And its why the debate within the Star Wars fandom is, to a political scientist like myself, so disturbing. It is yet another piece of evidence suggesting that increasingly all the most salient social cleavages in America today are overlapping, rather than cross-cutting. That portends bad things in the long run.

It is also why we should be interested in how martial arts communities function in these environments. In the case I outlined above a very vocal, surprisingly emotionally charged, outburst was quickly forgotten and put away. I suspect that if a similar conversation had erupted in an online environment the resolution would have been much different. Yet in this case the conversation happened within the walls of a martial arts school. And the martial arts have a unique ability to add yet another layer to one’s personal identity.

Of course, identity is always situational. How I define myself at any given moment depends in large part on where I am and what is socially appropriate at that time. But somewhere in the back of my head there is always that recognition that I am a “wing chun guy,” and there is always a spark of social recognition when I meet a fellow student of the Chinese martial arts. After all, there aren’t that many of us, and the one thing that each of us needs is a community.

Likewise, lightsaber combat can only be learned in a social setting. One has got to put in a lot of hours with many training partners to gain basic skills. Weapons work requires a lot of focus and trust, even when the weapons in question do not technically exist. One still has to trust that your partner will not hit you simply because they are tired and frustrated. And it is hard to deny the sort of visceral bond that is created (Victor Turner might have called it “communitas”) by simply going through this process together. While other markers of social status will always exist outside the school, martial arts instruction has a remarkable ability to take a diverse group of people, strip them of many individual aspects of identity, and then allow them to grow into a new sort of community together. We should not underestimate how powerful and rare that experience can be in the modern world.

When that happens there is the possibility that one will create a new identity which cross-cuts the existing social cleavage. As we saw in the case illustrated above, this can help to ameliorate other sorts of political debates. Indeed, our trust in, and dependence on, individuals who are very different from us within our martial arts communities may help to insulate us against more radical discourses that would seek to target them. Students of social capital would even suggest that trust is basically a learned skilled, and the lessons that acquire within a martial arts community can eventually be applied to other areas of the civil sphere. This in turn is critical to ensuring the proper function of modern democratic institutions.

A diverse group of Taiji students demonstrating the practices utility in cases of cardiac rehabilitation and recovery. Source: Harvard Journal of Medicine.

Conclusion

It is not difficult to look at practically any important problem in the world today (whether its economic, environmental, social or cultural) and to discern political forces lurking in the background. What is sometimes harder to remember is that most positive developments are also the result of careful institutional design and a different sort of political calculus. If we focus only on cases where extremist groups have sought to co-opt martial arts practices, it may be all too easy to conclude that there is something dangerous about the martial arts themselves. Lacking a complete view of the wider social context, researchers might conclude that these practices are inherently violent, in either a physical or a social sense. Social elites in late 19^thcentury China certainly came to that conclusion, and the end result was a lot of legislation that further marginalized the martial arts community without addressing any of the more fundamental causes of social violence that it increasingly drove the logic of Chinese decline.

The foregoing essay has argued that the martial arts are interesting (and in some senses inherently political) because they are social practices that generate new types of community identification. This is precisely why Asian nationalists and reformers promoted them throughout the region’s turbulent 20^thcentury. It is also why individuals who care about the quality of civic life in our ever more polarized world should also take these practices seriously. The embodied nature of martial arts practices has the potential to build community bonds that can cross cut other, highly politicized, social cleavages. Both on-line Star Wars conversations and embodied lightsaber practice generate communities. Yet one seems much more likely to resist politically induced conflict than the other. The promotion of these practices, when properly understood and carried out, could literally help to heal our civic institutions.

This is not to say that the creation of martial arts schools should be seen as a panacea. Given the realities of geography and economic inequality, it is unlikely that all martial arts schools will be equally diverse. Because these sorts of institutions are essentially voluntary organizations the danger is that we will choose to associate only with individuals who resemble ourselves. That outcome would be counterproductive as it might actually reinforce, rather than offset, the problem of overlapping social cleavages.

Yet in practice that does not seem to be an insurmountable problem, at least not in my area of country. Fellow kung fu students are rare, and lightsaber combat enthusiasts even more so. Economic necessity dictates that most schools are at least somewhat diverse as they are forced to recruit many types of students from a large geographic area just to make ends meet. And this is precisely why so many of us are willing to set aside random political discussions when we enter our training spaces. Good training partners (or instructors) are hard to find, and we all have a sense that in an increasingly polarized world there is something “more important” than the latest controversy to consume the 24-hour news cycle. Ironically, it is that seemingly agnostic impulse that suggest the real political value of the martial arts today.

oOo

If you enjoyed this discussion you might also want to read: Theory and the Growth of Knowledge – Or Why You Probably Can’t Learn Kung Fu From Youtube

oOo

Aggiornamento ed allenamento collegiale insegnanti

Posted on 1 Ottobre 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Sabato 29 Settembre presso “La Tana del Serpente Bianco” a Bondeno (Ferrara) si è svolto un incontro degli insegnanti dell’Istituto Taijiquan Tiancai Italia per un aggiornamento ed allenamento collegiale e per delineare le future attività dell’Associazione.

L’articolo Aggiornamento ed allenamento collegiale insegnanti proviene da 意大利天才太极院.

Martial Classics: The Poetry of Motion – Qi Jiguang in Verse

Posted on 1 Ottobre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

***I hope that the following guest post will be the first entry in a new occasional series here at Kung Fu Tea. While I am neither a linguist or historian of ancient China, I have found myself regularly attending the Cornell Chinese Classics Colloquium (CCCC) over the last couple of years. This fascinating series of workshops typically invites a visiting graduate student or junior professor to present a reading and translation of an ancient Chinese text of their choosing. The presenter highlights some puzzles that arise out of their text, either linguistic or historical in nature. This sets the stage for what is often a lively, and always enlightening, discussion.

The only drawback of the CCCC series is that none of the various scholars have yet presented a reading of a martial or military text. This group typically looks at political, literary, religious or even medical documents. Still, the growing interest in the reconstruction of various Chinese martial arts classics suggests that perhaps we could benefit from a similar effort. Students who are working on their own translation or reconstruction projects should feel free to submit a guest post. Ideally their essay will introduce both a translation of a specific section of text, and discuss either the linguistic, historical or technical issues that it presents. Hopefully this will inspire some good discussion. Given that there are very few academics who have translated these sorts of texts professionally, I would suspect that most contributions will come from amateur scholars, graduate students and individuals working on side projects. As with the CCCC, everyone is coming here to learn, and (charitable) feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!***

The poetry of motion: Qi Jiguang in verse

By Chad Eisner

When discussing Chinese martial arts classics it is often observed that, for a considerable period, the norm was to render technical information in verse form. Sometimes these verses are even called “songs” by modern martial artists. While this tradition has been kept by some, others have explicitly shunned the practice in favor of more straight forward instructions. Still, the fact remains that a sizable number of martial arts texts from the historical record are written in verse.

Proponents of the verse method of recording martial arts knowledge cite their ability to communicate more than just sequences of movement, or a specific response to an action. Properly understood they may also provide a framework for interpreting the technique in different contexts. Of course, verse also serve as a very convenient mnemonic for the memorization of traditions that may have been passed down orally. The issue with that method is that by keeping the language vague and open to interpretation, you make the act of understanding the technical information more difficult. When attempting to translate these poems to another language scholars face a large number of possible readings and reaching a consensus may be difficult.

Translation versus Interpretation

My background is as a (former) professional interpreter. Therefore I am coming at the act of translation from a specific place. Most people do not know the difference between interpretation and translation or that there is a difference between them at all. In the general sense, translation is the art of finding the equivalent words or phrases and interpretation is the act of discerning their meaning within their context. Professionally, “interpretation” happens live with little to no preparation or foreknowledge of what is being said. Translation is the act of transmitting information about things that are unchanging, as in being written down or recorded.

These two process are related, of course. Translation is a part of interpretation but because interpretation happens live, there are certain methods one must follow in order to ensure that the information and intent of the speaker are being communicated. In translation, since the text exists in a static form, the translator has access to all of the linguistic information during the entire process. This allows a translator to formulate solutions to problems more carefully and thoughtfully.

The result is that each profession approaches the translation of any text in a slightly different way. The translator looks for (in general) the most accurate and similar translation of each concept, including structure and word choice. The interpreter is more concerned with “equivalency” within the target language rather than a “word for word” approach. This may take the form of restructuring sentences, using different words, or finding completely unique idioms in the target language that serve the same function as the ones being used in the source language. A simple example of this is the greeting in Chinese “Nihao ma?” (你好嗎). Literally, this phrase means “Are you well?” But it is used much more frequently and in a wider context than the English phrase. It is therefore most often translated (or interpreted) as “hello” as it is used as a generalized greeting in Mandarin the same as the word “hello” functions in English. These are generalizations and there are several schools of thought for both translating and interpreting that take harder or softer stances on these issues.

Expansion and Contraction

When attempting to translate anything, there are certain issues which must be considered as many languages have different solutions to the same problems. One of these is the issue of linguistic expansion and contraction. This is when a single word in the source language cannot be expressed with a single word or “gloss” in the target language. It is necessary then to explain the concept in as concise language as possible to communicate the meaning and intent of the original text. This is a common occurrence in any language, but in written Chinese it happens with considerable frequency and can have lasting effects on the understanding of terms and concepts.

When translating and interpreting poetry and verse, the job becomes that much harder. Not only does one have to contend with almost intentionally obscure literary allusions and aesthetic styles, but one must now also render it in a similar fashion for the target language. This makes it necessary to approach the task with more of an interpreter’s mind set, being willing to alter things to make them adhere to the same type of experience for the reader, in which ever language there are experiencing it. There are concerns regarding meter, rhyme, structure, devices used and many many more things that are indicative of poetry and verse beyond what is found in prose.

These factors come together with the nature of poetry and verse to create a very difficult scenario for the translator. There will be numerous ways to translate the same text and none of them will really be more correct than some of the others. In “19 Ways of Looking at Wang Wei”, Eliot Weinberger looks at 19 different translations of a four line Chinese poem. Just among the English translations one can find distinct and unique takes on the simple verse. This underscores the fact that there are many ways to interpret what is being said and therefore, many correct translations of any text in verse.

This is not to say the effort is wasted. It is absolutely possible to render excellent verse to verse translations of songs, poems, and other forms of expressive writing. A good example of this is the song “Les Tomber les Filles “ written by Serge Gainbourg and performed by Franz Gall and translated and performed by the musician April March in 1995. March’s translation of the ’60’s era French pop song displays many of the techniques needed for translation of these types of texts:

Original by Gainsbourg:

Laisse tomber les filles, laisse tomber les filles

Un jour c’est toi qu’on laissera

Laisse tomber les filles, laisse tomber les filles

Un jour c’est toi qui pleureras

Oui j’ai pleuré mais ce jour-là, non je ne pleurerai pas

Non je ne pleurerai pas

Je dirai c’est bien fait pour toi, je dirai ça t’apprendra

Je dirai ça t’apprendra

Translation by March:

Hang up the chick habit

Hang it up, daddy,

Or you’ll be alone in a quick

Hang up the chick habit

Hang it up, daddy,

Or you’ll never get another fix

I’m telling you it’s not a trick

Pay attention, don’t be thick

Or you’re liable to get licked

You’re gonna see the reason why

When they’re spitting in your eye

They’ll be spitting in your eye

The first thing one notices is the title of the song. “Les Tomber les Filles” literally means “let the girls fall” or “drop the girls”. March’s translation of “Hang up the Chick Habit” does some fairly impressive things. First, it takes account of time period and chooses a phrasing with ’60 era flavor in the slang term “chick” used as an adjective. This immediately places the language in time and gets the listener into the right mindset. The idiom used in the French is reversed, conceptually, in the English translation. Where in the French we are told to “drop” the girls, the same sentiment is expressed by “hanging up” the habit of womanizing. Because of the nature of idioms and of course musical styles and concerns, finding equivalent phrases based on what they mean rather than the words they use is essential.

Without going into too much detail on each the lines and their translation, a quick glance at the selection above will reveal that there is a significant difference in the literal meaning of the French and the transition by March. Again, due to the confines of music, restructuring, rephrasing, and finding equivalent words and phrases, not directly translated ones, is necessary. It is the underlying meaning that needs to be addressed and since verse is often used as a tool for delivering information, it is this meaning that needs to be understood before a translation can be rendered.

Image of a Taiji Boxer. Source: Burkhardt, 1953.

The question is then brought up, what value is there in the effort to translate and render these verses into Western equivalents? Besides the scholarly and linguistic value that such an exercise provides, it may also be important to the modern practitioner who is purely interested in the content of these texts rather than their academic discussion. Martial artists often take inspiration from these works in their teaching and practice. Making them accessible to more people would seem to be a laudable goal.

Verse emphasizes form over function, sacrificing clarity. Modern attempts to not only understand the original message but then render it in verse form in the target language is a laborious, but ultimately rewarding, process. I have tried to keep the changes in my own project to a minimum, or in service of the verse structure. I have used my prior experience in Chinese martial arts, specifically Taijiquan, as a base for my interpretation of the techniques. I offer them only as an example of a single interpretation and do not claim authority on the matter.

In translating the verses of Qi Jiguang into English rhyme, some linguistic and interpretive liberties have been taken. A certain amount of linguistic expansion and contraction is necessary to achieve a proper meter and rhythm that remains internally consistent throughout the text. The form of the verses has also been changed to find an equivalent structure in English that can encompasses the several metrics in the original.

Verse structure

The verse structure I have chosen for these translations is based on U.S. armed Forces “Cadences” or marching rhymes. I have chosen this form as it is related to the military context, of which the text is a part, and for it’s simplicity. I have imagined (or rendered) it as if these verses were used as a call and response drills for large groups of provincial soldiers. As such I have kept the language on the courser side, although still giving nods to Qi Jiguangs practice of poetry. Although I have little knowledge of classical Chinese Poetic forms, Qi and his fellow military people were often criticized on their writing as being overly simple and naive. Although some did find Qi’s poetry to be pleasing, writers like Shen Defu claimed their success was due to their uneducated audience and the low brow environment of the frontiers and borderlands .

Settling on the military cadences, I used two forms; a quarter note version and an eighth note version. Most fit better into the eighth note form but there are several that are in the quarter note cadence.

Quarter note: Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Taaa
Eighth note: Ti-Ti Ta Ti-Ti Ta Ti-Ti Ta Ta

Rhyme scheme

The Rhyme scheme I have chosen is a simple AA,BB structure to reflect the simplicity the succinct and brief nature of the originals. The simple rhyme scheme also is a feature of nemonic rhymes to facilitate their memorization. The simple paired scheme is a one that is intuitive to most languages and cultures.

Voice

At times in the text, the first person is used. At other times the second person being given instructions is used. And at still other times it is unclear on whether the passive or active voice is being used. I have attempted to keep it as consistent as I can. The particulars of Literary Chinese grammar make it sometimes difficult to determine the subject and/or object in the sentence. Again, these factors are in addition to the already mounting factors when the target translation is to be in verse.

Examples

What follows is a sampling of my attempt. I have chosen the first four entires as they relate to modern Taijiquan practice and are often seen as antecedents of present day techniques. I do not attempt to draw lines of origin or make authoritative statements into the connection between modern naming conventions and Ming Dynasty ones. While the names and many of the positions are similar, the nature of the drawings and the text make it difficult to discern the original intent. Still, these are iconic techniques and positions that form the foundation of many practices today.

These four entries also provide a good sampling of the various types and flavors of techniques presented. Qi’s text has a few basic structures and approaches. Some are straight forward, step by step instructions. Others are explained in general terms as responses to situations and changing variables. Lastly, Qi ends each verse with a superlative, often making statements of prowess that seem right out of kung fu movies or modern professional wrestling.

My first attempt tried to take all linguistic information contained in the lines. The resulting translations were in my opinion, too verbose stylistically and did not match the succinct and brief nature of the originals:

Lazily Tie Your Coat and come to stand outside,

Sink into single whip, with single sudden stride

Without the courage to attack, when your enemy is caught,

The sharpest eyes and the fastest hands will both be all for naught.

While far more skilled and expert translators, like Douglas Wile, have produced excellent translations, I hope to add a small amount of depth by offering a glimpse into what these lines would sound like in verse form. I feel that having them rhyme in this way can give a little extra flavor, and maybe foster more thought about the content of the text. Either way, I accept any and all criticism and know that there will be many errors in my work. These errors are mine but I have tried to accommodate alternate perspectives when available.

Tie your coat and come outside,

Single Whip with sudden stride,

With out the courage to advance,

Sharp eyes fast hands will have no chance.

懶扎衣出門架子

變下勢霎步單鞭

對敵若無膽向先

空自眼明手便

“Lazily Tie the Coat” begins the set.

Lower your stance and lightly step into Single Whip.

If you lack the courage to attack when facing an enemy,

Your sharp eyes and fast hands will be for naught.

The first verse. The verse is about the technique called “Lazily Tie the Coat”. It states that this is an opening move to the “set” or form (架子 JiaZi). The poetic liberties taken should be obvious. Reframing the same information as a command brought about a more literal yet figurative relationship in the sentence. “Come and stand outside” is used to mean a beginning relating to 出門- literally “out the door”. While it probably means ‘to begin’, keeping the poetic nature of the phrase offers a good equivalent in English.

The interpretation of the passage seems to be more general in its scope. The first two line describe the technique “Lan Zha Yi”-Lazily Tie the Coat and the step into “Single Whip”. Any practitioner of Taijiquan, especially Chen Style, should be able to picture this move in a particular way. The grappling of Lan Zha Yi and the step into Dan Pian (single whip) are ubiquitous in the various styles. Although the illustration of Qi’s move shows a standing position with feet together, a difference from the current practices in Taijiquan, it is reasonable to assume that the name of this technique is focused mainly on the upper body. Very much like Single Whip, Lazy Tie the Coat is an image or mime of an action of tying a long belt around a coat as was done in old China.

The last two stanzas give general advice for fighting. Essentially, take the initiative in an encounter and do not let up. Violence tends to favor the aggressor and if you lack the courage or fortitude to press your attack, it will fail no matter how good your other attributes are. Qi has put an number of these general axioms for combat amongst the verses.

Golden Rooster stands on top,

Present your leg then sideways chop,

Rush in low and trip the bull,

They cry to heaven loud and full.

金雞獨立顚(顛)起

裝腿橫拳相兼

槍背卧牛雙倒

遭着叫苦連天

Jīnjīdúlì diān (diān) qǐ

zhuāng tuǐ héng quán xiāng jiān

qiāng bèi wò niú shuāng dào

zāozhe jiàokǔliántiān

Golden Chicken Stands Alone rises up.

Brandish the leg and cross the fists together.

Thrust forward and turn the back in “Reclining Bull” to throw them.

Those that encounter this move will cry of their hardship to heaven.

This verse differs a bit from the first in that it is more akin to step by step instructions or “plays” denoting martial application. The instructions are for its application in fighting, one assumes in a one on one encounter. Modern practitioners may be more comfortable thinking of this technique as a solo exercise or mime of a combat technique.

However, the verse contains another named technique “卧牛” or “Reclining Bull”. Which seems to indicate a throw where the opponent’s legs are in the air. Essentially hitting the ground supine. One possible interpretation of this technique is a standard “fireman’s carry”. Coming in low and scooping the opponent up and throwing them over your shoulders. I have chosen to translate this technique as “trip the bull” to stay with in meter and rhyme.

Testing Horse was Song Taizu’s,

Stances all can drop and move,

Advance attack, retreat to dodge,

Come in close with a fist barrage.

探馬傳自太祖

諸勢可降可變

進攻退閃蒻生強

接短拳之至善

Testing Horse was taught by Taizu.

Several stances can drop down and change.

Enter to attack and retreat to dodge with full vigor.

Come in close range where the fist’s reach is best.

This verse seems fairly straight forward as well. The first line is worth examination in a few aspects. First the name of this technique “Tan Ma” (探馬) is similar to the Taiji posture, “Gao Tan Ma” 高探馬 often translated as “High Pat on Horse”, it is more likely referring to testing a horse to see if it is able to be saddled. The high outstretched arm being the testing hand and the other arm folded but he side as if holding a saddle. Although like most of the illustrations, it is difficult to match them to real world actions.

The first line makes the claim that this technique was taught by “Taizu” the Emperor of the Song and a frequent figure in martial arts. The intent here seems to be to give the technique a sense of antiquity or lineage. This plays into the idea that traditional martial arts should have long histories. While that is a common idea in modern days, it held true in the Ming Dynasty as well. Several authors bemoan the loss of martial traditions, arts, and methods during their time. And while writers like Mao Yuanyi set out to preserve these traditions in works like the Wubei Zhi, the actual partitioners of the techniques, i.e. the military, were seeing firsthand the power of firearms and gunpowder based weapons. Qi, himself, wrote of the superiority of firearms and later built tactics almost solely around such weapons. Our present text is found in the Jixiaoxinshu, and was intended as a manual for the training of mercenary troops in provincial armies. Even in the introduction to this section, Qi states that “Barehanded fighting is all but useless on the battlefield”, and that he included the fist routines as a kind of exercise for troops. It may be that these troops responded to long histories and lineages more so than the upper classes and hereditary military families.

There is a liberal dose of restructuring in the first line. Trying to encapsulate the idea of antiquity and prestige I opted to go out on a limb. “Testing Horse was Song Taizu’s” seems to fulfill those requirements. This was done entirely for structural reasons and I was able to keep all information intact.

Crossed Single Whip firmly pries it’s way in,

When finding it hard from their kick to defend,

Rush in with continuous, liftings and chops,

Knock down Tai mountain into low stances drop.

拗單鞭黃花緊進

披挑腿左右難防

槍步上拳連劈揭

沉香勢推倒太山

Crossed single whip advances with tight circles.

When you find it difficult to defend kicks from either side,

Rush in with continuous downward and upward chops.

Sink low into the posture, Pushing Mount Tai.

“Ao Dan Bian” or “crossed Single Whip” is a common name and familiar again to practitioners of Taijiquan. The illustration provided by Qi shows the familiar stance of one hand held up in front as if in a chop and the rear hand made into a fist or hooked shape with arms stretched out straight from each other. “Ao” or “crossed” refers to the position of the forward leg to the forward hand which are opposing each other. So, if the right hand is forward the left leg will be forward.

An opera performer holding a bian during a performance.

“Dan Bian” or “single whip” refers to the upper body position and the arms. The arms are stretched out from the body and turned so that one hand is behind (often held in a hook gesture) and the other in front. The image is most likely of a mounted rider, holding the reigns with the front hand and the riding crop (bian 鞭) behind. It is a familiar position in opera indicating when the characters are riding in the narrative. In opera too, a long stick called a “bian” is used. The whip in this instance being a riding crop or short stick.

The rest of the verse explains the basic use of the technique. While there are many ways in which to interpret the movements explained, the logic of them seems salient. Qi advocates that his readers be aggressive with their intent and rush in with downward and upward strikes with which to disrupt, or otherwise interfere with, the opponents kicks. Once done, the practitioner sinks low into the stance “pushing Mt. Tai”. Essentially, it appears as if the technique comes in aggressively and then drops low to attack the legs, presumably for a knock down.

oOo

References

Barnes, Archie, Don Starr, and Graham Ormerod. Du’s handbook of classical Chinese grammar: an introduction to classical Chinese grammar. Great Britain: Alcuin Academics, 2009.

Biguenet, John, and Rainer Schulte, eds. The Craft of Translation. Chicago Guides to Writing, Editing, and Publishing. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989.

Kang, GeWu. The Spring and Autum of Chinese Martial Arts: 5000 years, first ed. Plum Pub, 1995.

Lorge, Peter Allan. Chinese Martial Arts: From Antiquity to the Twenty-First Century. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

-War, Politics, and Society in Early Modern China, 900-1795. Warfare and History. London: Routledge, 2005.

Mao, Yuanyi茅元億. 武備志Wu Bei Zhi. [China: s.n. ; not before, 1644] Map. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2004633695/.

Mroz, Daniel. The Dancing Word: An Embodied Approach to the Preparation of Performers and the Composition of Performances. Amsterdam, The Netherlands: Rodopi, 2011.

Nolan, James. Professional Interpreting in the Real World. second ed. Vol. 4, Interpretation: Techniques and Exercises. Bristol: Multilingual Matters, 2012.

Peers, Chris. Men-at-arms Series. Vol. 307, Late Imperial Chinese Armies 1520-1840. London: Osprey, 1997

Qi, Jiguang戚繼光. Wu Shu Xi Lie武術系列. chu ban. ed. Vol. 6, Ji Xiao Xin Shu.績效新書 Tai bei shi: Wu zhou, 2000min 89.

Schulte, Rainer, and John Biguenet, eds. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Weinberger, Eliot, and Octavio Paz. 19 ways of looking at Wang Wei: (with more ways). New York, NY: New Directions Books, 2016.

Wile, Douglas. T’ai-Chi’s Ancestors: The Making of an Internal Martial Art. New York: Sweet Chi, 1999.

oOo

If you enjoyed this discussion you might also want to read: Tai Hsuan-chih Remembers “The Red Spears, 1916-1949”

oOo

Political Extremism, Violence and Martial Arts

Posted on 28 Settembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

A Preamble

Everyone knew that the situation was deteriorating, and recent events had sensitized government officials to the growing threat of extremist groups within the area’s largest martial arts networks. Local immigration and a shift in the neighborhood’s religious complexion had brought tensions in one community to a boiling point. Groups of previously reliable citizens were protesting outside of a newly constructed place of worship shouting both racial and religious epitaphs.

Law enforcement wasn’t sure whether to move against the protesters or to just try and keep the groups separated until their anger burnt itself out. From their perspective it was difficult to know if either side actually deserved any sympathy at all. The supposed “victims” of these violent abuses had been filling the local courts with petty crimes and nuisance lawsuits for years.

Still, the public safety officials all agreed that it was a bad sign when a group of aggressive martial artists appeared right at epicenter of trouble just to conduct some “public workouts.” The group had recruited a new leader, a regionally famous fighter with a reputation for protecting “the people.” They claimed it was all necessary. Someone had to protect the community from these “outsiders.” That is when the torches were lit.

The Problem of Violence

The still fledgling field of martial arts studies has recently turned its attention to the problem of extremist political violence and its potential connections to the martial arts. Given that so many groups train explicitly to deal with the reality of violence (either to prevent it, or to enact it more efficiently), its odd that this topic is only now gaining visibility. In the 2017 Martial Arts Studies meetings in Cardiff my good friend Sixt Wetzler delivered a paper laying out a carefully constructed framework for considering the intersection of these issues. And pointing to the rising prominence of public groups training for violent street battles within the West’s increasingly polarized political atmosphere, I ended my own keynote with a plea for more scholars to take up these issues.

That is not to say that this is easy subject matter. In many cases our research reflects our personal interests and backgrounds. People write papers about embodied training in their favored styles, or address discursive issues in popular films or TV programs. And it is generally good advice to “write what you know.” Yet in moments of social upheaval that advice can lead to a strange myopia. Few of us are members of extremist organizations, on either the right or the left. And only a handful of martial arts studies scholars have any direct experience in law enforcement or intelligence work. I suspect that (with a few notable exceptions) studies of the intersection of martial arts training and social violence in the modern world lagged behind as it was a research topic without a sizable audience within the field.

It was the appearance of multiple news stories linking the spread of white nationalist hate groups and certain MMA training facilities, fashion labels and fight promotion companies which finally broke this stalemate. Little of what these outlets printed was actually “breaking news.” In February of 2018 Mother Jones published an article titled “The Terrifying Rise of Alt-Right Fight Clubs.” So as to not undersell the story the editor helpfully subtitled the piece (authored by Bryan Schatz) “White nationalists are learning martial arts to prepare for race war.” Much of the same material would later appear in an extended piece in The Guardian titled “Fascist Fight Clubs: How white nationalists use MMA as a recruiting tool.”

The implication of elements of the ever growing MMA community in these recruitment efforts inspired some sustained engagement. This unfolded on Facebook groups and blogs, and Paul Bowman has provided a nice summary of these debates here and here. Following the lead of the reporters in these pieces, much of the discussion has so far focused on how we should conceptualize the mixed martial arts and their connection to these efforts. Are they truly violent sports? Is there something about them that makes them particularly useful to extremist groups at this moment in history? And perhaps most intriguingly, is there an inherent conceptual connection between the sorts of “violence” that one sees in the octagon, and that which has appeared on the streets.

These are all interesting questions. Yet in this essay I would like to outline another set of concerns that is likely to take this discussion in several different directions. And that leads us back to the account of a single violent encounter in the preamble to this essay. When and where did this happen? And in what respects is knowing the answer to that question important? What aspects of community violence are historically and culturally bounded, and when do we cross over into the realm of institutionally or structurally determined behaviors?

It would not be hard to come up with several historical incidents that fit the events I outlined above. Some could be as old as the classical world, while others might appear in the headlines of a contemporary European paper. In point of fact, the “regionally famous martial arts teacher” in my account is none other than Zhao San-duo, a late 19^thcentury Plum Blossom master who, while not directly involved in the Boxer Uprising, helped to light the fuse of anti-foreign and anti-Christian violence that would bring Imperial China to its knees.

This is not to say that the sort of xenophobia that was seen in late 19^thcentury China, and the Western ideology of racial supremacy seen within groups like the California based Rise Above Movement (RAM, a violent extremist group profiled in both of the previously cited newspaper articles) are in any way identical. While both sets of ideas focused on the need to “protect” a community from perceived racial or religious threats, the historical, cultural and social framing of these ideologies are quite distinct. That is critical to remember, especially as government or local communities seek to address the spread of violent ideologies.

Yet the ease with which one might fit this outline to several cases suggests that there may also be structural and institutional issues that need to be taken into account. The association of martial art training with political or social extremism is not a new phenomenon. Nor is it restricted to only one side of the political spectrum. For every alt-right MMA club that one finds in California, I suspect that one will be able to locate a Marxist boxing gym in France or Italy.

Nor, when examined in historical terms, does there seem to be a very strong correlation between the sort of martial art being practiced and the probability that it will be radicalized by an anti-systemic group. In Japan it has always been the traditional Budos, with their strong associations with a (mostly imagined) Samurai past, that are the most likely to appeal to both violent ultra-nationalist groups and organized crime syndicates. Yet I doubt that many American MMA practitioners would look at these judo, kendo or aikido schools and find their practices to be notably “violent” by the standards of televised UFC bouts.

One challenge that we face is that since many of us are directly involved in the practice of the martial arts, it can be difficult to see beyond the boundaries of our own experiences and communities. In effect, we have a difficult time perceiving our communities as an outsider with different goals might. This is a distinct disadvantage when it comes to understanding why a particular extremist group might be interested in infiltrating a practice or what their goals might actually be.

To gain some clarity on these issues we might begin by taking a step back from the martial arts themselves and considering what we know about the ways that violent extremist groups typically operate. This is a subject that has been studied extensively by both social scientists and law enforcement personal. While students of martial arts studies have a unique perspective to bring to the table, we should note that there is already a well developed body of empirical observation and theoretical literature that we can draw from.

One of the first things that a student of terrorism might point out, for instance, is that we should carefully consider both halves of the phrase “extremist organization.” While we tend to put a lot of mental emphasis on a group’s views or ideology (often because they are horrifying), if we wish to understand what they actually do on a day to day basis we must remember that they are basically a voluntary social organization. To survive in the short run they must solve immediate problems like generating a funding stream, recruiting personal, managing their public image and coordinating with other actors. Any extremist organization that fails at these tasks will not be a problem for every long.

To better accomplish these basic goals radical organizations occasionally insert themselves into a wide range of social movements, many of which do not appear to have anything to do with violence. Sports organizations, on-line communities, new religious movements, musical sub-cultures and international charity organizations have all proved to popular targets for ideologically motivated violent groups. Each of these provides opportunities for extremist organizations to craft communities in which they can radicalize members. In some cases these cover organizations also help to raise money, operate across international borders or improve the group’s “brand.”

When seen in this light it is not at all surprising that violent organizations, either in the current era or in 19^thcentury China, would be interested in hand combat schools. Yet I suspect that the actual martial arts skills gained are not the most critical aspect of their organizational calculus. In modern society martial arts clubs are ubiquitous to the point of being almost invisible. Whether an ultranationalist judo club in Japan, or an MMA school in the United States, both organizations provide groups with a chance to cultivate marginal and dissatisfied individuals in an environment that is likely to generate little suspicion.

From a social scientific perspective these recruitment drives are actually quite enlightening. As martial artists we tend to mentally divide our actives into the serious business of physical training and “everything else” that goes along with being a member of an organization. This second category might include such banal interactions as chatting in the locker room, carpooling to a local tournament or meeting up at the gym for strength training. The friendships we create, the on-line media we consume, the social community that we build, all of these things are typically seen as “secondary” to the serious business of physical training.

Yet when trying to understand the function and social value of a martial arts school, we need to be willing to reverse this way of thinking. In actual fact, it is within the realm of the secondary where we find these practices’ greatest value. As any martial arts teacher can attest, it is the friendships that are made in a training hall that keep many students coming back week after week. It is there that they are exposed to the media that their fellow classmates consume. And it is largely through these “secondary” social channels that martial arts communities articulate what their practices mean, and hence what their identity actually is. Embodied experience is never self-interpreting, which is precisely why so many political, national and social groups have found the martial arts to be useful over the last hundred years or so.

Again, trends within the Boxer Rebellion help to illustrate this basic relationship between a group’s seeming primary purpose (to impart individual skills) and its actual social utility (to reinforce group bonding). Historical and eyewitness accounts suggest that relatively few Chinese Christian were killed with the sorts of hand to hand combat techniques that were taught by the local martial arts communities that the Yihi Boxers drew from. Instead we find accounts of execution squads rounding up local Christians, locking them in their own churches, setting the building on fire and shooting anyone who tried to leap out. Paul Cohen noted that fire, rather than Kung Fu, was the Boxer’s weapon of mass destruction. While we tend to fixate on their claims to magical invulnerability in hand to hand combat, it is often forgotten that much of their magic dealt with the control of fire as they sought to burn entire neighborhoods to the ground.

Does this then indicate that their martial arts training was useless on the battlefield? Not at all. It was on the boxing grounds of Shandong that the Boxers who would terrorize Beijing were welded together into a somewhat cohesive, radicalized, social unit. It was these “secondary” aspects their martial arts training that laid the necessary social foundation for the tragedy of 1900.

Likewise, when reviewing the footage of recent riots that can be found online, it seems unlikely that a few months of BJJ or MMA (or HEMA) training is going to make the average skinhead that much more effective in a messy brawl with Antifa or law enforcement. I am as much an advocate of martial arts training as anyone, but the most important function that these clubs serve is likely to organize their members into a somewhat disciplined unit, to coordinate with other likeminded cells, and then to get their guys onto the streets. Certainly strength training and a basic familiarity with fighting might help. But at the end of the day individuals are motived to fight for communities, not training styles.

Diverse students at a kickboxing seminar held in Ithaca NY.

Implications

All of this may seem obvious. I hope that it does. Yet approaching extremist groups from an institutional perspective reveals important strategies for understanding and deterring their spread. Perhaps the first of these is that there need not be any direct ideological correlation between the types of venues that groups use for recruitment and their ultimate political or social goals. For instance, modern MMA, 19^thcentury Plum Blossom and traditional European Longsword are three very different martial arts both in terms of cultural background, social structure and patterns of imagined violence. Yet each has proved to be an attractive target for radical groups looking to recruit members and coordinate their agendas.

We commit a grave error by treating MMA as some sort of “gateway” to the world of social extremism due to its inherently “violent” or competitive nature. While conceptually interesting, debates as to whether we might legitimately call what happens in the octagon “violence” in the same ways as a deadly political street fight misses a critical point. There is little violence in Scandinavian new religious movements, yet they too have become, at times, a site of extremist recruitment. There are good reasons why groups might want to recruit members from charities or other organizations that have no visible connection to violence at all. I am sure that if we looked closely enough we would also find some level recruitment happening at Wing Chun training halls, karate dojos and Kali schools. What is critical is the way these activities can be discursively framed and deployed, and not necessarily anything inherent in their embodied practice.

At the current moment MMA is probably attractive to extremist groups simply because it is so popular with young males generally and is aligned with several trends in popular culture. Its most important assets may not be the brutality of its practice, but the fact that it has crafted a fashionable pop culture aesthetic. Indeed, it may simply be the practice’s “soft power” that make it an attractive target for subversion. Its highly networked structure also make it both commercially flexible and a decent platform for the sorts of networking that extremist groups may seek to engage in.

If these social characteristics make martial arts organizations attractive to extremist groups (on both the left and right), they also suggest some options for deterring their spread. Consider, for instance, the role of social capital in this type of institutional framework. “Social capital” refers to the decentralized bonds of trust and reciprocity that are created within small communities that can then be applied to larger networks.

All group interactions create social capital to one degree or another. Yet they do not always create equal amounts of trust, (bonding capital) nor are they equally good at extending this radius of community (bridging capital). When we look at the specific MMA schools and fight promotions implicated in the news articles cited earlier, it becomes apparent that they are in many ways pretty marginal cases. This makes sense as, once created, communities rich in social capital tend to be somewhat conservative in character (even if very supportive of their members). My prior research looking at religion and terrorism suggested that communities which were rich in social capital were more resistant to radicalization attempts. Relatively disconnected and marginal groups tended to be low hanging fruit for extremist organizations both because they had less to lose, and less ability to resist corrosive social discourses.

This suggests that one important strategy for containing the spread of extremist ideologies in the martial arts is to focus more attention of building healthy communities with many points of intersection, both with other hand combat groups and the community at large. Such organizations are much harder targets for radicalization. However, containment strategies that focus on state surveillance, or anything else that corrodes trust (and therefore social capital) within the community, might backfire in unexpected ways. If we weaken the bonds of reciprocity either within martial arts groups or between them, social capital theory suggest that we might actually increase the probability that these movements are captured by anti-systemic actors. [Incidentally, efforts by the late Qing dynasty to monitor and suppress its own hand combat schools seems to support this hypothesis, but that is an argument for a different post.]

The modern martial arts function as a type of social machinery. Like any machine they perform work, the normative implications of which have more to do with the hand at the controls than any inherent property of the practice itself. It is the fundamental amorality of the martial arts that allows them to be co-opted by both nationalist forces and advocates of regional identity, often at the same time. Likewise, the same embodied experience of kickboxing or rolling might be used to support discursive structures that emphasize a sense of the profound human equality in some circles, or radical hierarchies of difference in others. What really matters is the supplementary forces that construct and give meaning to these experiences.

An institutional approach to the problem of extremism not only suggests viable strategies for containing these movements (a topic that I hope to return to in a future essay), but it also reveals something critical about modern hand combat groups. It is often the secondary and seemingly supplementary aspects of our practice that have the most profound impact on the community around us. We neglect them at our peril, both as scholars and concerned martial artists.

oOo

If you enjoyed this essay you might also want to see: Government Subsidization of the Martial Arts and the Question of “Established Churches”

oOo

Chinese Martial Arts in the News: September 24th, 2018: Shaolin, Bull Fights, and So Many New Books….

Posted on 24 Settembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Introduction

Welcome to “Chinese Martial Arts in the News.” I recently finished the heavy lifting on my draft chapter, so I am now returning to a normal posting schedule. Thanks for your collective patience! A (long overdue) news update seems like the perfect way to ease back into things.

For new readers, this is a semi-regular feature here at Kung Fu Tea in which we review media stories that mention or affect the traditional fighting arts. In addition to discussing important events, this column also considers how the Asian hand combat systems are portrayed in the mainstream media.

Its been way too long since our last update so let’s get to the news!

News from all Over

A number of this month’s news items highlight the varied intersections between the martial arts and politics. As such, it seems appropriate to lead off with recent developments at the Shaolin temple. The venerable Buddhist monastery (and spiritual home of the Chinese martial arts) has once again found itself at the center of controversy. Seeking to get ahead of new government policy directives designed to limit the independence of Chinese religious movements from the state and Communist Party, the temple’s leadership have decided to take a much more visible and proactive role in promoting “patriotism” (rather than simply Buddhism) in the monks’ public performance. This is actually a somewhat nuanced topic as Chinese Buddhist monasteries have never been truly independent of the state and Shaolin, in particular, already carries a patriotic reputation. Still, the move has inspired some controversy and much discussion. A good overview of all this can be found in the South China Morning Post article titled: “Red flag for Buddhists? Shaolin Temple ‘takes the lead’ in Chinese patriotism push.”

Here is a sample of the sort of pushback that has been encountered:

Tsui Chung-hui, of the University of Hong Kong’s Centre of Buddhist Studies, said Buddhist scripture already required its followers to respect the state.

“The government does not need to take pains to promote [this] and monasteries also do not need to pander to politics,” Tsui said on Tuesday. “They should let monks dedicate themselves to Buddhism and not waste their time performing various political propaganda activities.”

China has recently come under the spotlight for its efforts to clamp down on minority religions including Islam and Christianity, which it associates with foreign influence or ethnic separatism. Mosques and churches flying the national flag have become an increasingly common sight in China amid the crackdown.

Interested readers may also want to check out this follow-up article critically examining the state of Buddhism in China, including multiple discussions of the compromised situation of the Shaolin Temple.

From questions of patriotism and political interference, we now turn to controversies over animal welfare. Certain martial artists in Jiaxing, in the eastern province of Zhejiang, have recently been making waves with their own brand of “bull fighting.” While various types of bull sacrifices and worship can be found across the ancient world, this particular practice seems to be a mix of the old and new. Discursively attributed to the Hui Muslim minority, the practice (which actually resembles steer wrestling minus the horses) was first demonstrated nationally in the 1984 Ethnic Minority Games, and was recognized as a martial art only in 2008. As with so many other “rediscovered” martial arts, the hope seems to be that the practice will increase tourism in the region.

While a seemingly odd story, the more I think about this one the more important it becomes. On a purely theoretical level, it raises questions about the boundaries of what we might consider the “martial arts,” and how they are constructed and negotiated. I suspect that in the West common sense would dictate that the martial arts are a social activity between humans, rather than humans and animals. And yet this story also reminds me that countless Chinese language books and articles on the martial arts (even scholarly one’s) start off with a straight faced assertion that the Chinese martial arts were created in the distant past so that people could defend themselves from wild animals. I always dismissed these lines as boilerplate, but now I am starting to wonder what their relationship to the Chinese cultural vision of the martial arts actually is.

Of course, no one is actually being called upon to defend themselves from these bulls. The animals seem to be very tame and have been trained to tolerate humans throwing them to the ground without putting up much of a fight. While no bulls are killed in the practice of this “martial art,” it would seem to be open to all of the same ethical questions as North American rodeos. And yet Western readers are assured that any appearance of cruelty is simply a result of their inability to grasp the “deep cultural significance” of the activity.

If you are wondering what all of this looks like in practice, check out this video.

Our next article, from the English language version of a Chinese tabloid, is more mainstream. It provides an account of all the ways that a Wushu performance has managed to “Wow US Audiences.” Being a press release by a provincial government’s information office, the most interesting aspect of this article is its total transparency about the organization and purpose of shows like this.

“We hope that our show will serve as a bridge for martial arts lovers overseas to learn more about Chinese culture and appreciate the beauty of China,” said Huang Jing, director of the international communication department of China Intercontinental Communication Center.

The center presented the event, together with the Chinese Wushu Association and the Information Office of Henan Provincial People’s Government.

Over 400 people including representatives of members and students from Chin Woo athletic federation branches at home and abroad as well as members of other martial arts groups participated in the worship ceremony. (PRNewsfoto/Publicity Department of Xiqing)

From Virginia we jump back across the Pacific to Tianjin. While Huo Yuanjia (the titular founder of the Jingwu Association) is often remembered for the phase of his career that occurred in Shanghai, his hometown roots have also made him a popular figure in Tianjin. The city just marked his 150th birthday with a major event.

Established on June 30, 1990, the Tianjin Chin Woo Athletic Federation has over 70 branches worldwide. The event aims to leverage the global influence of Huo Yuanjia and the club to strengthen local town’s leading role as the birthplace of the Chin Woo culture. It will help display the city’s profound history and culture as well as carrying forward the Chin Woo spirit to promote solidarity.

“Kung fu helps build road to success, strength.” So claims an article in the English language edition of the China Daily. The story provides an overview of a network of Shaolin associated schools in the United States. It tends to focus on adolescent students and the benefits that they derive from dedicated martial arts training. As always, its all about the discipline.

What happens when Brazilian capoeira meets Chinese Kung Fu? This is the fascinating premise behind a new documentary which I need to locate a copy of.

What would happen when Chinese kung fu meets Brazilian martial art capoeira?

As a part of the Open Digital Library on Traditional Games, the documentary Capoeira meets Chinese Martial Arts was screened on Monday in Beijing and showed the sparks between the two traditional cultures.

The 10-minute film, co-produced by the embassy of Brazil and Flow Creative Content, in partnership with UNESCO and Tencent, presents the meeting of Brazilian capoeira masters with Chinese martial arts masters in Beijing and Hangzhou.

One part “interesting,” one part “cringeworthy,” all heuristically useful. Vice magazine decided to let its readers ask a Kung Fu master ten questions. Find out what they came up with here.

Are you looking for your next Bruce Lee fix? If so, check out this interview with on Radio West.

Through his legendary films, Bruce Lee bridged cultural barriers, upended stereotypes and made martial arts a global phenomenon. Biographer Matthew Polly joins us to explore the life of this ambitious actor who grew obsessed with martial arts.

Its been a while since we discussed a martial arts film, but there is a new project on the horizon that looks interesting. I like Ip Man films, and I like Michelle Yeah, so its good to hear that she is going to star in an Ip Man spinoff. In addition to the typical movie Wing Chun, this also looks like its going to be a sword/gun-fu movie. I don’t see any butterfly swords in the trailer, but I think I spotted a couple of kukri. I have no idea how those knives show up in the storyline, but as a long time kukri collector, I approve.

Finally, an update from the lightsaber combat community. Ludosport (originally an Italian group which has since expanded globally) recently held their first US National Championship in Elmira NY, not far from Cornell. They were kind enough to let me hang out and do some fieldwork with them for couple days. And there was even some nice press coverage of the event by the local news. Check it out. Hopefully I will be blogging about this event in the near future.

Martial Arts Studies

Summer is typically a slow time for academic news, but a lot has been happening in the Martial Arts Studies community. We have conferences, journals and even facebook discussions to talk about. But I am afraid that we aren’t going to get to any of that in this update as we have to deal with a deluge of new books.

The first item of business is Prof. Janet O’Shea’s new publication Risk, Failure, Play: What Dance Reveals about Martial Arts Training (Oxford UP, 2018). Wondering what it is all about? Check out this interview in which she discusses her latest project.

Or, if you have decided to order a copy, you can do so here.

Janet O’Shea. 2018. Risk, Failure, Play: What Dance Reveals about Martial Arts Training. Oxford UP. 284 pages. $35 USD. Release Date: Nov. 1

Risk, Failure, Play illuminates the many ways in which competitive martial arts differentiate themselves from violence. Presented from the perspective of a dancer and writer, this book takes readers through the politics of everyday life as experienced through training in a range of martial arts practices such as jeet kune do, Brazilian jiu jitsu, kickboxing, Filipino martial arts, and empowerment self-defense. Author Janet OâShea shows how play gives us the ability to manage difficult realities with intelligence and demonstrates that physical play, with its immediacy and heightened risk, is particularly effective at accomplishing this task. Risk, Failure, Play also demonstrates the many ways in which physical recreation allows us to manage the complexities of our current social reality. Risk, Failure, Playintertwines personal experience with phenomenology, social psychology, dance studies, performance studies, as well as theories of play and competition in order to produce insights on pleasure, mastery, vulnerability, pain, agency, individual identity, and society. Ultimately, this book suggests that play allows us to rehearse other ways to live than the ones we see before us and challenges us to reimagine our social reality.

Fuhua Huang and Fan Hong (Eds). 2018. A History of Chinese Martial Arts. Routledge. 256 pages. $133 HC. Release Date: October 3.

Chinese martial arts have a long, meaningful history and deep cultural roots. They blend the physical components of combat with strategy, philosophy and tradition, distinguishing them from Western sports.

A History of Chinese Martial Arts is the most authoritative study ever written on this topic, featuring contributions from leading Chinese scholars and practitioners. The book provides a comprehensive overview of all types of Chinese martial arts, from the Pre-Qin Period (before 222 BC) right up to the present day in the People’s Republic of China, with each chapter covering a different period in Chinese history. Including numerous illustrations of artefacts, weaponry and historical drawings and documents, this book offers unparalleled insight into the origins, development and contemporary significance of martial arts in China.

Tim Trash. 2018. Chinese Martial Arts and Media Culture: Global Perspectives (Martial Arts Studies). Rowman & Littlefield. 306 pages. $128 Hard Cover. Release Date: October 16

Signs and images of Chinese martial arts increasingly circulate through global media cultures. As tropes of martial arts are not restricted to what is considered one medium, one region, or one (sub)genre, the essays in this collection are looking across and beyond these alleged borders. From 1920s wuxia cinema to the computer game cultures of the information age, they trace the continuities and transformations of martial arts and media culture across time, space, and multiple media platforms.

Paul Bowman (ed). 2018. The Martial Arts Studies Reader. Rowman & Littlefield. 244 Pages. $44 Paper Back. Release Date: Nov. 15

Today we are witnessing the global emergence and rapid proliferation of Martial Arts Studies – an exciting and dynamic new field that studies all aspects of martial arts in culture, history, and society. In recent years there have been a proliferation of studies of martial arts and race, gender, class, nation, ethnicity, identity, culture, politics, history, economics, film, media, art, philosophy, gaming, education, embodiment, performance, technology and many other matters. Given the diversity of topics and approaches, the question for new students and researchers is one of how to orientate oneself and gain awareness of the richness and diversity of the field, make sense of different styles of academic approach, and organise one’s own study, research and writing.

The Martial Arts Studies Reader answers this need, by bringing together pioneers of the field and scholars at its cutting edges to offer authoritative and accessible insights into its key concerns and areas. Each chapter introduces and sets out an approach to and a route through a key issue in a specific area of martial arts studies. Taken together or in isolation, the chapters offer stimulating and exciting insights into this fascinating research area. In this way, The Martial Arts Studies Reader offers the first authoritative field-defining overview of the global and multidisciplinary phenomena of martial arts and martial arts studies.

Raul Sanchez Garcia. 2018. The Historical Sociology of Japanese Martial Arts. Routledge. Out Now. $54 for Kindle.

This is the first long-term analysis of the development of Japanese martial arts, connecting ancient martial traditions with the martial arts practised today. The Historical Sociology of Japanese Martial Arts captures the complexity of the emergence and development of martial traditions within the broader Japanese Civilising Process.

The book traces the structured process in which warriors’ practices became systematised and expanded to the Japanese population and the world. Using the theoretical framework of Norbert Elias’s process-sociology and drawing on rich empirical data, the book also compares the development of combat practices in Japan, England, France and Germany, making a new contribution to our understanding of the socio-cultural dynamics of state formation. Throughout this analysis light is shed onto a gender blind spot, taking into account the neglected role of women in martial arts.

The Historical Sociology of Japanese Martial Arts is important reading for students of Socio-Cultural Perspectives in Sport, Sociology of Physical Activity, Historical Development of Sport in Society, Asian Studies, Sociology and Philosophy of Sport, and Sports History and Culture. It is also a fascinating resource for scholars, researchers and practitioners interested in the historical and socio-cultural aspects of combat sport and martial arts.

Raúl Sánchez García is Lecturer in sociology of sport at the School of Sports Science, Universidad Europea Madrid, Spain and President of the Sociology of Sport working group within the Spanish Federation of Sociology (FES). He has practiced diverse combat sports and martial arts and holds a shōdan in Aikikai aikidō.

I should note that Professor Garcia published the first chapter his book as an article in the latest issue of the journal. Read it here for free.

Lu Zhouxiang. 2018. Politics and Identity in Chinese Martial Arts. Routledge. $45 kindle. Out now!

Chinese martial arts is considered by many to symbolise the strength of the Chinese and their pride in their history, and has long been regarded as an important element of Chinese culture and national identity. Politics and Identity in Chinese Martial Arts comprehensively examines the development of Chinese martial arts in the context of history and politics, and highlights its role in nation building and identity construction over the past two centuries.

This book explores how the development of Chinese martial arts was influenced by the ruling regimes’ political and military policies, as well as the social and economic environment. It also discusses the transformation of Chinese martial arts into its modern form as a competitive sport, a sport for all and a performing art, considering the effect of the rapid transformation of Chinese society in the 20^th century and the influence of Western sports. The text concludes by examining the current prominence of Chinese martial arts on a global scale and the bright future of the sport as a unique cultural icon and national symbol of China in an era of globalisation.

Politics and Identity in Chinese Martial Arts is important reading for researchers, students and scholars working in the areas of Chinese studies, Chinese history, political science and sports studies. It is also a valuable read for anyone with a special interest in Chinese martial arts.

You can read my review of Politics and Identity in Chinese Martial Arts here.

Kung Fu Tea on Facebook

A lot has happened on the Kung Fu Tea Facebook group over the last month. We watched vintage guoshu performances from the 1930s, read about new exhibits in Hong Kong, and discussed the problem of extremist political groups in the martial arts! Joining the Facebook group is also a great way of keeping up with everything that is happening here at Kung Fu Tea.

If its been a while since your last visit, head on over and see what you have been missing!

Rethinking Wing Chun’s Opera Rebels

Posted on 21 Settembre 2018 by Kung Fu Tea

Cantonese Opera Performers in San Francisco, circa 1900. Chinese Opera and Popular entertainment has been linked to the martial arts since at least the Song dynasty. Even in the Han dynasty military performances were a central part of the “Hundred Events.”

***After a quick return to the blog earlier this week, I have directed my attention back to my other ongoing project. The good news is that this manuscript chapter just a couple of days from completion. There is a definite light at the end of the tunnel! The other good news is that we will be revisiting a fun essay I wrote back in 2013 in the mean time. I should be resuming my normal posting schedule very soon. And that is a good thing because essay ideas are starting to literally pile up on my desk. In the mean time, please enjoy this meditation on the Wing Chun/opera connection.***

Introduction

In September of 1850 a Major in the Imperial Army stationed in Guangdong took his own life. Records indicate that he was older and struggling with a chronic illness. Given the state of medicine in the middle of the 19^th century one can only guess that he was probably in substantial pain when he died.

In the grand scheme of things this individual tragedy was of no historical consequence. Yet when I first ran across records of it in the index to the old Guangdong Provencal Archives (seized by the British Navy during the Opium Wars and taken back to London) it had a profound impact on how I thought about the origins of Wing Chun.

A Major is an important figure in the provincial military, but they are far from irreplaceable. The archives are full of notices regarding the promotions, retirements, punishments and training of various military officers. Clearly these people came and went, and the replacement of a single Major was basically routine. As such, it was fascinating to read how much attention this unfortunate event generated.

On September 24^th there was a flurry of activity at the Yamen. The first item of business was a report filed by Hsu Kuang-chin (the archive index still uses the Wade-Giles Romanization system so I have kept it here) of the Major’s death. Next a number of other recommendations for promotion were filled to fill the now vacant post.

The only thing outwardly odd about these reports was the identity of their author. Hsu Kuang-chin was the Imperial Commissioner of Southern China. One would not normally expect such an important civil official to be taking on questions of human resource management. The reason for such high level involvement would become clear three months later.

On December 19^th of 1850 Hsu Kung-chin and Yeh Ming-chen (the Provencal Governor, and one of the most important individuals anywhere in the Chinese civil service) filed a joint report to the imperial household following up on the Major’s death. It would seem that in the intervening months they (or their staffs) had been conducting a more detailed investigation into events surrounding the suicide.

This was a tense time in southern China. Civil and international battles had already been fought, and more (including the Red Turban Revolt) were expected in the future. The influence of rebel factions and organized crime were growing. Apparently there had been some fear that the Major’s suicide had not been what it seemed. What if he had been compromised? What if he took his own life to prevent himself from being blackmailed or used against his will?

With notable relief the report concluded that no outside factors were implicated in these tragic events. The suicide was what it had initially appeared to have been, the death of an old sick man. One can almost imagine the relief in the final report.

Yet what do these events tell us about the state of governance in southern China? There was certainly tension, and a number of imminent security threats. Large scale international and civil war were on the horizon and both the Governor and the Imperial Commissioner knew this.

Yet this was not an uncontrolled frontier. When you skim over the notes in the archive, it becomes clear that the government and its security apparatus was immensely watchful. Any major crime committed in an urban area was investigated immediately, and even seemingly mundane events, such as the death of an old sick man, could trigger a long and detailed investigation.

I find it useful to keep events such as this in mind when thinking about the folklore of the southern Chinese martial arts. Many of these systems tell stories that describe an almost “wild west” situation. We are told of mysterious masters who killed multiple opponents in market-place challenge matches, or wandering Shaolin rebels bent on the assassination of local officials. But how plausible are any of these stories? Not very.

Killing someone in a challenge fight was very explicitly against the law. There were no exceptions to this, and no contract could be signed that would actually relieved the other party of responsibility. Such actions would lead almost inevitably to one’s own arrest and execution for murder. In a few extraordinary cases the sentence might be commuted to years of imprisonment. Kung Fu legends notwithstanding, this was behavior that the state did not tolerate.

Likewise, if the suicide of a single military officer who suffered from a known chronic illness could touch off a three month counter-intelligence investigation led by the two highest ranking Imperial figures in the province, is it really realistic to assume that there were packs of Shaolin trained revolutionaries prowling around the capital, carrying out assassinations, and no one noticed?

The home of Wing Chun as we like to imagine it. The Cantonese Opera stage on the grounds of Foshan’s Ancestral Temple.

Wing Chun and the Red Boat Opera Rebels

If one is to believe the folklore that is popular in many Wing Chun schools the answer is a resounding yes. Wing Chun (like all other Cantonese arts) claims to originate at the Southern Shaolin Temple. The monks of the Temple were opposed to the Qing, especially after they burnt their sanctuary to the ground and scattered the few survivors. Some of these individuals (in the case of Wing Chun the Abbot Jee Shim and the nun Ng Moy) are said to have passed on their fighting arts along with a solemn charge to “oppose the Qing and restore the Ming.”

The standard Foshan/Hong Kong Wing Chun lineage states that the teachings of both Ng Moy (via Yim Wing Chun) and Jee Shim ended up being transferred to (and united by) members of the “Red Boat Opera Companies” in Foshan. These individual made a living by traveling from temple to temple, performing Cantonese language operas during village holidays. These performances often required great martial skill. Then as now Kung Fu stories were popular with audiences. Nevertheless, the opera singers themselves were members of a low status caste and were often marginalized and ignored by the more powerful members of society (at least when they were not on stage).

According to Rene Ritchie (1998) their highly transient lifestyle, combined with extensive training in costuming and disguise, made the Red Boat Opera singers the perfect revolutionaries. Robert Chu, Rene Ritche and Y. Wu (1998, here after Chu et al.) also noted that the compact boxing style of Wing Chun could well have evolved in the cramped quarters of a ship. These nautical origins notwithstanding, it would have been the ideal system to carry out revolutionary activities in the only slightly more spacious alleys of Foshan and Guangzhou. (For a summary of much of this literature see Scott Buckler “The Origins of Wing Chun – An Alternative Perspective.” Journal of Chinese Martial Studies. Winter 2012 Issue 6. pp. 6-29)

Of course there is one big problem with all of this. There is a total lack of evidence to support any of it. There is no concrete evidence that anyone did Wing Chun prior to Leung Jan, and while second hand accounts state that he studied with a couple of retired opera performer (probably during the ban following the Red Turban Revolt) he did not give us a detailed accounting of their prior activities or political involvements. In fact, all of the more detailed accounts of the lives of the opera singers that we now have come from individuals who were active during the Republic era (1920s-1940s), at the earliest. Other accounts date from the 1950s or even the 1990s.

This actually makes a lot of sense. Other important elements of the Wing Chun mythos (such as the character Ng Moy) either emerged or underwent significant transformation in the Republic period. The chaotic word of political intrigue and street assassinations which the opera rebels are said to have participated in actually sounds much more like the 1930s than it does the relatively stable late 19^th century (say 1870-1890).

Of course, Wing Chun was never actually taught as a public art until the Republic era. Almost by definition this is when most of the discussions of its origins and history would have been produced and packaged for public consumption.

Nor would this be the first time that we have discovered that some landmark of southern China’s martial arts culture may be more of a product of literary innovation than history. There is a growing consensus among scholars that the Southern Shaolin Temple itself never existed, at least in the form that most Kung Fu legends claim. The entire theme of the Red Boat Rebels is actually something of an appendix to the larger Shaolin myth complex.

If there really had been packs of killer theatrical agents plying the waters of southern China, fomenting local revolts and assassinating Imperial officials, the government would have taken notice. The proper reports would have been filed followed by extensive investigations and more reports. That is simply the reality of how the Imperial government worked. The fact that there is no mention of a campaign to foment revolution or conduct political killings in southern China during the relevant decades is pretty strong evidence that 1) such a thing never happened or 2) the Opera Rebels were stunningly ineffective. While silence in the historical record can never really rule out any hypothesis, the first alternative seems to be the much more likely scenario.

I do not mean to imply that martial artists were never involved with political violence. They certainly were. That is one of the reasons why I find their history to be so interesting. And there were rebellions and targeted political killings throughout the 19^th century. But historians have a pretty good grasp on the forces behind most of these (the Taiping Rebellion, the Eight Trigram Rebellion, the Boxer Uprising) and their narratives have little in common with the myth of the Red Boat Rebels.

“Chinese Stage Shows.” Cigarette Card. Source: Digital Collections of the NY Public Library.

Violence and Radical Politics in the Cantonese Opera Community, 1850-1911.

In most cases I would be content to treat such accounts as examples of “local folklore” and move on. Yet in this instance some caution is in required. To begin with, the plays staged by various Cantonese Opera troops often focused on heroic feats that required their actors to be highly skilled martial artists. Opera troops actually competed with one another to be the first to demonstrate a new style, or to stage the most spectacular battles. As such, they really were an important source of innovation in the southern Chinese martial arts.

While the mythology of Red Boat Rebels may be highly historically implausible, the earlier (and less embroidered) account of Leung Jan studying Wing Chun with two retired performers in the wake of the Red Turban Revolt is actually somewhat plausible. We may not be able to confirm the existence or life histories of Leung Yee Tai or Wong Wah Bo to the same degree as Leung Jan, but there is nothing about their involvement with the martial arts that challenges credulity. While a little shadowy, it is entirely possible that such individuals did have something to do with the development of Wing Chun and, truth be told, quite a few other southern martial arts.

It is also hard to simply dismiss the tradition of the Red Boat Rebels out of hand. Opera companies in the Pearl River Delta did occasionally involve themselves in local political controversies. Some of these events even assumed a stridently anti-government and violent character. While these actions never actually took the form of anything described in the Wing Chun legends, it is pretty clear that later story tellers and “historians” had a lot of good material to work with.

I propose that our current tradition linking Cantonese Opera singers to both the creation of Wing Chun and to the prosecution of a violent anti-Qing revolutionary campaign came about through the fusion of two separate half-remembered historical episodes. These were brought together by later storytellers during the middle of the 20^th century. The older of these two traditions focused on the role of the Cantonese Opera companies in the siege of Guangzhou and conquest of Foshan during the Red Turban Revolt in 1854-1855. I suspect that many of my readers will be at least somewhat familiar with these events. They have been mentioned in the Wing Chun literature for years, though they are rarely treated in the depth that they deserve.

The best historical discussion of the Red Turban Revolt available can still be found in Frederic Wakeman’s classic text, Strangers at the Gate: Social Disorder in South China, 1839-1861 (California University Press, 1966). It would not be hard to write a book on these events, but they are usually overshadowed by the larger, more destructive, Taiping Rebellion which was happening further to the north at the same time. At some point I hope to do a series of posts focusing on the Red Turban Revolt, but I have yet to find the time get started on that project.

It is often assumed that the uprising in Guangdong was simply the local expression of the larger Taiping Rebellion which was gripping much of central China. That is certainly what local officials in Guangzhou argued as they sent reports back to the throne. But as Wakeman and others have demonstrated, this was not the case. The Red Turban Revolt was for the most part an independent uprising that resulted from local mismanagement. It actually started as a simple tax revolt which spiraled badly out of control.

One of the dozen or so main leaders of this group was an opera performer named Li Wenmao. He managed to put together a large fighting force that had at its core a number of the region’s many traveling opera societies. Li is remembered for entering the fight in full costume, something that B. J. ter Harr reports in a number of other uprisings in the middle of the 19^th century. As Holcombe has already pointed out, the moral and political rhetoric of the theater proved to be an effective means of rallying the masses in more than one late Qing uprising.

The image of costumed opera singers fighting the government evidently left a great impression on the local countryside. It also made a real impression on the Governor who promptly banned the performance of public vernacular opera and ordered the rebel opera singers to be arrested and executed. The survival of the local government seemed in doubt in 1854. Yet following their eventual victory the political and economic elite of the province unleashed a white terror that saw the execution of nearly one million rebels, secret society members, bandits and opera singers.

It took decades for the Cantonese Opera community to recover from Li Wenmao’s disastrous and ill planned revolt. Still, these events help to frame some of the facts that we do know. Leung Yee Tai and Wong Wah Bo may have been living with Leung Jan and teaching him martial arts precisely because Cantonese Opera performances were illegal and it was dangerous for former performers to be out and about. The very fact that they survived the revolt (and did not follow the retreating opera army to their new “Taiping kingdom” in the north) would also seem to be pretty strong circumstantial evidence that they had never really been swept up in the violence (the repeated assertions of modern folklore not withstanding).

Still, the Cantonese Opera community demonstrated that they were quite dangerous as a group and capable of impressive levels of violence. In retrospect these individuals have been remembered with something like awe. Yet at the time they were probably best remembered for the immense destruction and loss of life that they helped to foment.

One of the most important things about the Red Turban Revolt that modern Wing Chun students usually overlook is its spontaneous and almost apolitical nature. In retrospect it is easy to see this event on the horizon. The government’s revenue collection tactics (Guangdong’s taxes were the only funds available to finance the Qing’s war with the Taipings) along with other sociological forces had turned southern China into a veritable powder keg. Still, it was impossible to know when the explosion would occur or the form that it would take.

Unsurprisingly mounting taxes turned out to be the spark that ignited the bomb. The violence started by pitting secret society members involved in the gambling trade against the government. It quickly spread through a series of bloody reprisals and counter-strikes to include more or less every secret society chapter and bandit group in the country. These groups coalesced into loose armies intent of sacking various towns and cities, and in the process they recruited tens of thousands of desperate peasant “soldiers” who were looking for economic relief and a change in management.

Kim (“The Heaven and Earth Society and the Red Turban Rebellion in Late Qing China.” Journal of Humanities & Social Sciences. Vol. 3, Issue 1. 2009) provides a good overview of the various major “chiefs” of the movement. However the one thing that really stands out about the revolt is their relative lack of coordination, or even a common purpose. Some elements of the rebellion were driven by a familiar brand of peasant utopianism, while others seem to have been in it mainly for the money. While the secret society chant “Oppose the Qing, Restore the Ming” was heard throughout the uprising, no one appears to have had any plan for actually fulfilling the second half of the couplet.

While we see Cantonese Opera performers resorting to violence and lashing out against the government in the Red Turban Revolt, they are not the politically motivated, highly dedicated, undercover organization described in the Wing Chun creation story. This was an outbreak of community violence more in the mold of Robin Hood than James Bond.

This would not be the last time that the Pearl River Delta would see opera performers taking an interest in radical politics and the promotion of revolution. Opera companies were commercial undertakings and they succeeded by telling the sorts of stories that people were willing to pay to hear. Most of these scripts focused either on martial heroics or love stories with happy endings. For reasons that I cannot fathom popular sentiment seems to have demanded that love stories in novels end in tragedy but those on the stage must resolve into a haze of bliss.

Nevertheless, opera companies would occasionally find some success by running a politically motivated play that tapped into an important public conversation. The anti-opium and anti-gambling crusades of the late 19^th and early 20^th century found expression in new Cantonese plays that went on to enjoy some popularity.

In the last decade of the Qing dynasty a group of young revolutionaries and students took note of this phenomenon and decided to use it to their advantage. With the backing of the Tongmenhui, Sun Yat Sen’s revolutionary group, about two dozen new “political” opera companies were formed to spread the gospel of nationalism and revolution throughout southern China.

Historians from both the nationalist and communist parties have tended to valorize the efforts and success of these groups. They certainly did help to raise the consciousness of the masses in southern China. While very few of their techniques were totally unique they did help to popularize certain innovations, such as singing librettos in modern vernacular Cantonese and they experimented with the staging of western style spoken plays. The best short discussion of this movement can be found in Virgil K. Y. Ho’s volume Understanding Canton: Rethinking Popular Culture in the Republican Period(Oxford University Press, 2006).

Like other sorts of opera companies these “revolutionary troops” traveled from place to place. Often this happened in Red Boats. While traditionally associated with Cantonese Opera in the popular imagination, the iconic Red Boats were actually something of a late innovation. B. E. Ward (“Red Boats of the Canton Delta: A Chapter in the Historical Sociology of the Chinese Opera.” Proceedings of the International Conference on Sinology. Academia Sinica: Taipei, 1981.) notes that the first reports of specially constructed Red Boats do not occur until the 1850s.

Given the decades long prohibition of Cantonese Opera in the middle of the 1850s, they cannot have become common until the more peaceful late 19^thcentury. Ho indicates that the boats actually reached the peak of their popularity in the 1920s, and then rapidly declined in the middle of the 20^thcentury. On those grounds alone it is clear that the strong association between Wing Chun and the Red Boat Opera singers is more likely a product of the 1920s-1930s than the 1820s-1830s as it does not appear that this symbolic complex would have meant as much to individuals from the earlier period.

The revolutionary opera companies of the early 20^th century were a very short lived, if memorable, phenomenon. Most of these companies seem to have appeared around 1905, and few survived much past the actual 1911 revolution. Going to the opera was a popular form of diversion, and audiences (quite reasonably) expected to be entertained in the fashion to which they were accustomed. This meant loud music, vulgar lyrics, predictable plots and impressive costumes. What they did not want was to pay good money to listen a political lecture.

The revolutionary troupes had another problem. The Cantonese Opera Guild in Guangzhou refused to accept them as members. This appears to have mostly been a reflection of their chronic inability to attract large audiences or sell tickets. As a result they were actually prohibited from playing on any stage associated with the Opera guild. Of course this included most of the venues that could raise a decent crowd.

Lastly, while these individuals were “revolutionary” in their politics and ideological orientation (many of the companies explicitly backed Sun Yat Sen) they were much more conservative in their methods. These troops were dedicated to the pen rather than the sword. They sought to spread the revolution by educating peasants, not by assassinating local officials. They were drawn to the stage because of its propaganda value, not its association with costumes, disguises, gangsters or ducking out of town under the cover of darkness.

Again, this is not to say that secret societies were never involved in the revolutionary project. After all, Sun Yat Sen’s Tongmenghui itself was a secret society. Nor do I want to imply that political killings never happened. The late Qing and early Republic eras saw an uptick in assassinations and political murders. But once again, these attacks were carried out by terrorist, mercenaries and government agents using very modern guns and bombs. Revolutionary opera companies were not either side’s weapon of choice.

A temporary stage erected for the Monkey God Festival, 2006. Almost all operas at temple festivals were traditionally performed on temporary stages like this one. Source: Photo by Samuel Judkins.

The Red Boat Revolutionaries: Creating a Legend

A very interesting picture has emerged from the preceding conversation. There are at least two periods in the late Qing and early Republic era when factions within the Cantonese Opera community became very visibly involved in radical politics. Both of these eras were short, but highly visible. In fact, they were exactly the sort of thing that was likely to imprint itself on the popular imagination.

The first of these occurred in 1854-1855 when Li Wenman led a large number of companies into an open uprising against the government (and helping to lay siege to Guangzhou) in the midst of the Red Turban Revolt. Far from being covert, most of this violence occurred on the battlefield. The political motivations of the major leaders of the uprising were far from unified. One group escaped the government’s victory in Guangdong to establish their own Taiping Kingdom in the north. Other factions, including many of the bandit and secret society chiefs, appear to have been motivated mostly by the promise of spoils. The tens of thousands of peasant recruits who filled out the various armies were motivated mostly by physical hunger and economic desperation. While highly destructive and dedicated to the overthrow of the local government, the Red Turban Revolt was in some respects surprisingly apolitical, especially in comparison to the ongoing Taiping Rebellion in central and northern China.

If you skip forward 50 years another group of radical opera singers appears. These individuals are dedicated political revolutionaries. They are ideologically and politically sophisticated, and they seek to spread their radical agenda through the many small theaters and stages that they visited. Like everyone one else along the Pearl River Delta they journeyed by boat, often in the Red Boats that signaled the arrival of a traveling opera companies. While never very commercially successful, they made their presence known throughout southern China and then they disappeared, almost as rapidly as they had emerged.

We now have all of the pieces to begin to build a new theory of origins of Red Boats Revolutionaries in the Wing Chun creation myth. I should point out that this is just a theory and one that probably needs additional refinement and revision. Given the nature of the discussion I can only marshal circumstantial evidence in its favor, but it may be an idea worth considering.

As Wing Chun started to gain popularity in the late 1920s and 1930s it became necessary to repackage discussions of the art’s history and origins in ways that were compatible with the basic pattern of the Hung Mun schools (all of which claimed an origin from Shaolin) and the expectations of potential students (who wanted a story to tell them what this new art was all about). Story tellers in the 1930s and 1940s (individuals like Ng Chung So) would have been alive during the final years of the Qing dynasty and may have remembered the revolutionary opera companies on their Red Boats, spreading radical ideology in their wake. Most of their students, however, would have been too young to have any firsthand knowledge of these events.

In an attempt to bring the story of Leung Yee Tai and Wong Wah Bo into conformation with the highly popular Shaolin ethos, the distant memory of the violent 1854 uprising may have been conflated with the more recent revolutionary opera companies to create the vision of a group that sought to use violent means to overthrow the government while “staying undercover” in their daily lives. Stories of such groups, often with reference to various secret societies, were rife in southern Chinese folklore and were particularly common in the martial arts tales of the “rivers and lakes.” In fact, given the fading memories of these two sets of radical opera performers, it seems rather natural that they would fall into this commonly available archetypal pattern.

Adopting this new synthesis would also have the added benefit of giving both Wong Wah Bo and Leung Yee Tai (and hence modern Wing Chun) some real revolutionary credibility. This could only be helpful given how popular “revolutionary” rhetoric was in the 1930s. It might also have helped to provide Wing Chun with some rhetorical cover since anyone who examined the art would immediately discover that it was dominated not by the working class (like the more popular Choy Li Fut) but by wealthy property owners and conservative right-wing political factions.

A model of a Red Boat of the type that carried Cantonese Opera companies in the late 19th and early 20th century.

Conclusion

The provincial archives of southern China contain no evidence that would point to a campaign of targeted political killings and other subversive activities by revolutionary Cantonese opera companies because such groups did not exist. Most opera companies were more concerned with eeking out a living, and those that may have been associated with secret societies appear to have been smarter than to go around murdering local leaders.

This does not mean that these groups ignored politics. In fact, there were two very notable periods when they became involved in the political process. The current myth of the Red Boat Rebels may be a mid 20^th century conflation of these two memories into a single event. This new construction allowed Wing Chun to connect itself more fully to the revolutionary rhetoric of the southern Chinese martial arts even though the system has a history of reactionary associations and behaviors. It also provides additional evidence that the Republic era (from the 1920s-1940s) was a critically formative period in the creation of the modern Wing Chun identity and mythos.

oOo

If you enjoyed this post you might also want to see: The Red Spear Society: Origins of a Northern Chinese Martial Arts Uprising

oOo

Zhu Tiancai birthday

Posted on 25 Luglio 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Oggi è il compleanno del Gran maestro Zhu Tiancai! Auguri da tuttli gli allievi e gli amici italiani! 今天就是朱天才老师生日！意大利学生朋友都祝生日快乐! Today’s Grandmaster Zhu Tiancai birthday! All Italian disciples and friends wishing a happy birthday!

L’articolo Zhu Tiancai birthday proviene da 意大利天才太极院.

Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai: pubblicazione del sito

Posted on 12 Luglio 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Il sito dell’Istituto Italiano Taijiquan TIancai hosted by Aruba.it è stato realizzato il 12/07/2018 con piattaforma WordPress 4.2 XL su server Linux (mySQL 5.6.40; Php 5.5) by 羞龍 Xiulong | www.xiulong.it

L’articolo Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai: pubblicazione del sito proviene da 意大利天才太极院.

Corso Taijiquan stile Chen – Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai

Posted on 10 Luglio 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Scuola di Taijiquan ortodosso di Chenjiagou (stile Chen) di Livorno, secondo il metodo della famiglia di Zhu Tiancai (XIX Generazione Chenjiagou – Henan)

Referenti: Fabio Smolari e Marco Pinzani – Istituto Italiano Taijiquan Tiancai

Incontri presso Oriente ASD www.orienteolistica.it Via Francesco Mimbelli, 5, 57127 Livorno (LI)

Martedì 20:00 – 21:30

Giovedì 21:30 – 23:00

WHITE APE STEALS A PEACH

Posted on 27 Giugno 2018 by Paul Brennan

–

白猿偷桃
WHITE APE STEALS A PEACH
順德黃漢勛編述
by Huang Hanxun [Wong Honfan] of Shunde
山東蓬萊羅師光玉授
as taught by Luo Guangyu of Penglai, Shandong
攝影者：黃子英
photographed by Huang Ziying
校對者：黃翔
text proofread by Huang Xiang
[published 35th year of the cycle, 10th month, 10th day (Nov 20, 1958)]

[translation by Paul Brennan, June, 2018]

–

白猿偷桃
White Ape Steals a Peach
黃電明題
– calligraphy by Huang Dianming

–

目錄
CONTENTS

第一式：中平雙蓄勢
Posture 1: STANDING STABLY, BOTH FISTS STORING POWER
第二式：入環單臂爪
Posture 2: KNEELING STANCE, SINGLE CLAW-ARM
第三式：提步右挫捶
Posture 3: LIFTING LEG, RIGHT SUBDUING PUNCH
第四式：穿手右統捶
Posture 4: THREADING HAND, RIGHT THRUST PUNCH
第五式：登山右挫捶
Posture 5: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, RIGHT SUBDUING PUNCH
第六式：扭步左黏肘
Posture 8: TWISTING STANCE, LEFT STICKY ELBOW
第七式：劈圈右仰膀
Posture 7: CHOPPING SWING, RIGHT PRESSING FOREARM
第八式：囘身刁踢腿
Posture 8: TURN AROUND, HOOKING HAND, SNAPPING KICK
第九式：圈捶連環腿
Posture 9: SWINGING PUNCH, CONTINUOUS KICK
第十式：入環右仰膀
Posture 10: KNEELING STANCE, RIGHT PRESSING FOREARM
第十一式：撤步掛統捶
Posture 11: WITHDRAWING STEP, HANG & THRUST PUNCH
第十二式：登山右劈軋
Posture 12: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, RIGHT ROLLING CHOP
第十三式：蹤步穿梭式
Posture 13: LEAPING STEP, SENDING THE SHUTTLE THROUGH
第十四式：封手雙飛腿
Posture 14: SEALING HANDS, FLYING DOUBLE KICK
第十五式：登山掛統捶
Posture 15: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, HANG & THRUST PUNCH
第十六式：登山右劈軋
Posture 16: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, RIGHT ROLLING CHOP
第十七式：橫圈大擺蓮
Posture 17: SWINGING PUNCH, LARGE SWINGING LOTUS KICK
第十八式：登山掛統捶
Posture 18: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, HANG & THRUST PUNCH
第十九式：蹤步右統捶
Posture 19: JUMPING STEP, SEALING, THRUST PUNCH
第二十式：登山番車式
Posture 20: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, ROLLING PUNCH
第二十一式：登山掛統捶
Posture 21: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, HANG & THRUST PUNCH
第二十二式：封手右撐腿
Posture 22: SEALING HANDS, RIGHT BRACING KICK
第二十三式：囘身掛統捶
Posture 23: WITHDRAWING BODY, HANG & THRUST PUNCH
第二十四式：跨虎挑統捶
Posture 24: SITTING-TIGER STANCE, CARRY & THRUST PUNCH

–

螳螂國術學院第十一屆畢業禮
SPEECH FROM THE 11TH GRADUATION CEREMONY OF THE MANTIS MARTIAL ARTS ACADEMY
黃院長漢勛演詞　受業黃漢超節錄
by director Huang Hanxun (recorded by your student, Huang Hanchao):

五七年十月廿三日，螳螂國術學院第十一屆畢業典禮於東方體育會禮堂舉行，是晚，特級並高中初三級畢業同學四十餘人，曁新舊同學於會後舉行聯誼，會前，院長致詞，勗勉諸生，語多切中近來國術界之弊病，指出國術衰落之原因，並提出救正之方法，其言亟宜錄出以作改進國術者之參考，以下是院長演詞之節錄：
On Oct 23, 1957, the 11th Graduation Ceremony for the Mantis Martial Arts Institute was held in the assembly hall of the Far East Athletic Club. On that evening, there were more than forty students graduating, from the beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels, as well as the special instructor level. At the close of the event, students old and new joined in camaraderie to give a demonstration. At the beginning of the event, the director of the school gave a speech to encourage all the students, in which he particularly discussed the problems currently facing the martial arts community, pointing out the causes of the decline of martial arts and putting forward methods of rescuing them. His important words should serve as a reference for how to improve the state of martial arts. Below is an excerpt from his speech:

國術衰落之原因
Causes for the decline of martial arts:

（一）病在學者好為人師，以致師道不尊：
1. There is a problem of students trying to be teachers, resulting in real teachers no longer being respected.

由於靑年多缺乏正確的練習國術認識，在未習拳以前，已懷有為人師的念頭，這不是說學者不應為人師，乃是說不應好為人師。蓋習拳者、日久功深，所謂三年一小成，十年一大成，未嘗無理，然在小成大成之期間，若不能大殺（苦練也）一番，功力必不進；苟無良師益友，技亦停滯不前，蓋拳技之道，泳涵愈久，功力愈精到。有習拳三年五年者，卽自視甚高，以為可以應世致用，為人師表；實不明拳理，不諳武術之興替。家法不明，而沾沾以將為人師而喜。懷此輕浮之心，國術何得不衰？
Young people typically lack proper martial arts knowledge, and yet before they have even begun training in a boxing art, they already have it their heads that they want to teach it to others. I am not saying that students should not become teachers. What I am saying is that they should not be using the art just to have something to teach.
　　Practicing boxing arts requires a long time for skill to deepen, hence the expression “three years will give you a small achievement, ten years a large achievement”. This is not an unreasonable plan, but in the time between the small achievement and the large achievement, if you cannot fight your way through it (i.e. endure bitter training), your skill will most assuredly not progress the rest of the way. Or if you are without a close mentor, your skill would again stagnate and cease to move forward.
　　It is the way of any boxing art that the longer you swim in it, the more refined your skill will become. Those who have practiced a boxing art for three to five years think highly of themselves and believe that they can function for others as a model teacher. But actually they still do not understand the boxing theory and are not experienced in the ups and downs of martial arts. Even though the methods of the art are not yet fully understood, they are nevertheless steeped in their happy plans of teaching these methods to others.
　　With this kind of frivolous attitude, how could our martial arts not be in decline?

（二）雜誌、報章、電影、武俠小說之過事渲染：
2. Magazines, newspapers, films, and martial arts novels do a lot of exaggerating.

以上諸出版物並電影，本可以作復興國術之用，以前精武體育會就有此等組織，迺使國術一道，風靡全國，以實事求是，非投機取巧。可惜今日所見所聞，多以奇技相標榜，以異術相眩博，言過其實，描寫一人，務以出神入化之筆以吸引讀者觀衆。觀者不知，誤認天下間竟有如此奇人，學技之心隨之而興，以為自己亦可致此也。彼纔入學，則所親炙者多平平無奇，與傳聞所說大異，尋轉他學，亦復如此。輕蔑國術之心亦因之而起，彼習技之一股勇氣，化為子虛烏有，國術界因此而喪失不少人才。空腹高論，其不俾實際如此，國術何得不衰？
All of these forms of media have the potential to rejuvenate our martial arts. When the Jingwu Athletic Association made use of these kinds of media to make martial arts fashionable throughout the nation, they did so in order to show the reality of these arts and were not seeking to make a profit. Unfortunately what we see and hear nowadays is usually the flaunting of bizarre skills and the glorifying of crazy stunts. Depictions of individuals are exaggerated caricatures, and the writing is pushed to be as exciting as possible in order to attract audiences.
　　Spectators do not understand and mistakenly think that people with such strange abilities exist. They are then inspired to learn those skills in the belief that they themselves can achieve them. Once they join a school, they discover that what they are being personally taught is average and unremarkable, vastly different from what they had heard about, and so they seek out other teachers to learn from in the hopes that it will be more like what they had expected. Then in their disappointment, they will consequently start to have contempt for martial arts, going from being mesmerized by the thought of the training to realizing it was all a hoax. Because of this, the martial arts world has lost many talented people.
　　To have such “lofty dreams on an empty stomach” and not be able to make any of it come true, how could our martial arts not be in decline?

（三）不願公開獨到的拳術：
3. There is an unwillingness to publicly share unique boxing arts.

習拳技者知拳技易學難精，學者幾經苦練而後有所得，故任敎後，每想及得技非易，苟輕易以之授徒，心有不甘。的確，如果無心向藝，目拳術為交易之物者，自不應以高深之法理授之，然百人中豈無好學者？故不以獨到之技傳粗心浮意者可，不以獨到之技傳好學深思者則失之矣。俗謂說：「求師難，求徒更難。」若人人存有不傳獨得之技的念頭，而持之以終老，亦老死而矣。懷此自私之心，國術何得不衰？
Those who practice boxing arts know that these arts are easy to learn but difficult to master. Students have to go through a great deal of hard training in order to make any gains. Once practitioners start teaching, they constantly fret over how difficult it is to achieve skill, and so they sour to the idea of teaching just anyone. Indeed if a student does not care about the degree of craftsmanship involved and looks upon boxing arts as easy things, it seems natural that he should not be given instruction in advanced theories.
　　But it’s a numbers game: among a hundred people, there is bound to be one who appreciates knowledge. Therefore while it is reasonable not to teach unique skills to those who are indifferent or impatient, it is a mistake not to teach these skills to those who love learning and contemplating. There is a common saying: “It’s hard to find the right teacher, but even harder to find the right student.” However, if everyone decided to keep their art to themselves and hold onto it until they die, it would also die with them.
　　With this kind of selfishness, how could our martial arts not be in decline?

院長又提出救正國術衰落的幾點意見，他說：
Director Huang then put forth these suggestions for rescuing our martial arts:

（一）敎者應以身作則，應有實在之經驗及拳術修養：
1. Teachers should set an example by actually going through the training process and mastering a boxing art.

濫竽充數者不論，有名師授受矣，如彼自以為名師而輕視他人，不屑與後生小子羣，授技只敷衍了事，不能做到學不厭，敎不倦，學者受此影響，亦會走上其師的老路，轉相授受，敎者卒不能以身作則，立定規模以示後學。故在為師者言，應有學不厭，敎不倦的精神，期以收默化潛移之效；另一方面言，本身亦應有實在之經驗及拳術修養，始能肩師道之任。故救正國術之病，不得不從為師者之以身作則起。
It means nothing to just fill up teaching positions. There are “famous teachers” giving instruction. If an instructor considers himself to be a famous teacher and looks down on other people, disdaining to be in the presence of the students, the instruction he gives will be barely mediocre. He has not been able to achieve the condition of [quoting from the Lun Yu, 7.2:] “learn insatiably, teach tirelessly”. Students will be influenced by this and instead only learn how to behave like that teacher. Such a teacher ultimately cannot set an example and ceases to be a good model for the students.
　　Therefore to be considered a teacher, one should have the mindset of “learn insatiably, teach tirelessly”, which will have the effect of subtly influencing the students. On the other hand, he should also have actually gone through the experience of mastering a boxing art, and then he will be able to shoulder the responsibility of being a teacher in the first place.
　　Thus rescuing our martial arts has to start with teachers setting an example.

（二）學者應走鈍的一路，不應走巧的一路：
2. Students should tread the boring path, not the exciting one.

心躁氣浮，為練拳術者之大忌，此一點使學者好為人師外，更阻碍拳術之進步。常見初習拳術者，每見老同學之演習，輒嘖嘖稱羨，彼不知練者費幾許精神時間，始克至此。於是每多蹈蠟等之弊，一技未了，又見異思遷，以巧的方法去獵取；不肯勤練，以鈍的方法去涵泳。拳術之道，易得易失，不經體驗，不知其中痛癢，而臨淵羨魚，不如退而結網，是待學者之善學而後國術有救正之可言。
A boxing arts practitioner is not allowed to have an impetuous mind and distracted temperament. That kind of thing is an even bigger hindrance to making progress than wanting to hurry up and be a teacher.
　　Often when we see beginners watching their older classmates practicing, we hear them express their envy. But they do not understand how much determination and time was required to attain such a level. Therefore they tend to make the error of skipping steps. Before they have developed even a single skill, they see something different and their attention shifts, always in pursuit of exciting material, never willing to put in the hard training, which involves wading through the boring stuff.
　　Boxing arts methods are easy to obtain and easy to lose. Unless you go through the experience, you will have no idea of the ordeals within the training. [from the Books of Han, bio of Dong Zhongshu:] “To stare at the water and wish for a fish is not as good as stepping back and making a net.”
　　Only when the student has learned how to learn will he then be of use in rescuing our martial arts.

（三）應不畏艱難，多發明前人所未發的拳術眞理：
3. We should not shy away from the hard work of expressing boxing arts knowledge that previous generations did not.

欲使國術成為一門學，非要找出其能成為學的關鍵不可，是則有待於國術界同人之努力，而撰著專籍，尤為切要。從來拳術授受，多憑口耳，載籍實不足，而晚近有關國術之書籍，以排比編纂，鈔襲陳言為多，能有眞正經歷其境而登其堂而筆之於書者，實不多覩，以今日論，欲救正此等風氣，非用大心力以從事研究不可。發明前人所未發，實為當前國術界應有之責任，是亦為救正國術之一大方針也。
If we wish for martial arts to become a field of learning, we cannot do it unless we find out what the keys are to such knowledge. It then depends on the hard work of our colleagues in the martial arts community to carry out the crucial task of putting all that knowledge into specialized books.
　　However, learning martial arts always requires some personal instruction, for books themselves are insufficient. In recent years, martial arts books have been getting systematically compiled, but they are usually just the copying of arcane texts. To be able to actually go through the training that those texts describe and then write books that are also based on one’s own experience of that training is something that is rarely seen. If we wish to fix this current trend, it cannot be done without a great deal of effort.
　　To express what earlier generations did not is a duty of the martial arts community, and is also a major guiding principle in rescuing our martial arts.

–

自序
PREFACE

余自出版螳螂拳術叢書以來，經十餘年之努力，至今已二十三種矣，惟不論拳與械均在數十式之間者，此拳僅得二十四式，得毋太短乎？曰：此拳原本如是，實無能使之為長也。螳螂拳是以一氣呵成見稱於世者，拳式長，動作多固然使練之者增加氣力於不知不覺間，但勿以拳式短，動作少而輕視其用氣用力必少也，苟能每拳俱認眞用力發勁亦頗使練之者大費精神矣。
此拳與「白猿出洞」正如牡丹之與綠葉互為襯托乃有益彰之妙也。卽亦如「螳螂出洞」「螳螂偸桃」之並重，故余以之緊隨白猿出洞之後而出版者，意卽使之易於相生相成之效也，余將賡續努力於螳螂拳之著述，成敗利鈍固所非計矣，幸海內外同道時錫南針為幸。
黃漢勛螳螂樓　戊戌年重陽
Since starting to publish the “Mantis Boxing Art Book Series”, I have given it more than a decade of effort, and there are now twenty-three volumes in it. Regardless of boxing set or weapon set, all of the sets contain a large number of postures, except the boxing set in this book, which has only twenty-four. If this seems too short, I can only say that this is the way the set was originally designed, and so I have no right to lengthen it.
　　Mantis Boxing is consistently regarded as being comprised of boxing sets that are long and have many movements. Practitioners take it for granted that working on such sets will increase energy and strength, and they then think that one should not bother with boxing sets that are short and have few movements, dismissively assuming that they must be of little use for the training of energy and strength. But if we can wholeheartedly exert ourselves and express power in all of the sets, we will gain enormously in the development of spirit.
　　This set and White Ape Leaves the Cave are as intimately connected as a peony tree and its leaves, benefiting each other wondrously, which is likewise true of Mantis Leaves the Cave and Mantis Steals a Peach, and for this reason the publication of this book follows close upon the publication of White Ape Leaves the Cave [although it actually ended up getting published before it], in hopes that this will more easily produce the effect of the two sets developing and fulfilling each other.
　　I will continue to put effort into writing about Mantis Boxing, ignoring all thoughts of success or failure, for my hope is only to provide material that will serve as a guide for my fellow practitioners both within the nation and overseas.
　　- Huang Hanxun at the Mantis School, 35th year of the cycle, Double Ninth Festival, [Oct 21, 1958]

–

第一式：中平雙蓄勢
Posture 1: STANDING STABLY, BOTH FISTS STORING POWER

說明：
Explanation:
假如我以東方作起式，則應是右東，左西，面北，背南矣。雙足合攏直立，雙拳收束至胸平齊以蓄中平之氣，目向左視，以俟拳式之展閉焉。
If you begin in the eastern part of the practice space, then the east should be to your right, the west to your left, north in front of you, south behind you. With your feet together, stand straight, your fists pulled up to chest level in order to store a balanced power. Your gaze is to the left, and you are ready to begin the boxing postures. See photo 1:

功用：
Application:
螳螂派各拳多為中平作起式者，其次為四平式及背轉式，所謂中平，四平，背轉等皆是方向之區別耳！其雙拳之蓄勢則一，中平開始者是表示敵方將由我左方而來，因此要注視左方。四平則敵自我正面來故向前面視。背轉是敵由我右攻來，故亦向右注視焉，三式之區別處在此，祈留意及之。
The boxing sets in the Mantis system usually begin with this posture of “standing stably”, but sometimes there is the “four-level posture” and also the “back-turning posture”. They are different in terms of the direction they are facing, though they are the same in that the fists are storing power. When beginning in the posture of standing stably, I am showing that there is an opponent who is about to attack from the left, and thus I should be looking to the left. In the four-level posture, an opponent is attacking from in front of me, and thus in that case I should be looking forward. In the back-turning posture, an opponent is attacking from my right, and thus in that case I should be looking to the right. These are the distinctions of these three postures. Take note of them.

第二式：入環單臂爪
Posture 2: KNEELING STANCE, SINGLE CLAW-ARM

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，左脚向西開出，右脚曲而跟進以成入環式，右拳化刁手，左手化掌隨步由下橫斜而出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot steps out to the west and your right foot follows it forward, the leg bending, to make a kneeling stance, as your right fist changes to a hooking hand and your left hand becomes a palm, your hands going along with your feet by going across diagonally from below. See photo 2:

功用：
Application:
彼自我中部攻來一拳，我撥消來手，右手反爪直取其下陰部，斯手極毒輕易不可用之，有人以為此式何必捨拳不用而用爪，此正是其妙處所在也，蓋襠下位置是下濶上窄者，若用拳旣勢不順而又出發點與終點大相逕庭，用爪則自下而上恰如彼特異之位置，斯為此式之妙處所在也。
An opponent attacks my middle area with a punch, so I deflect his incoming hand while my right hand goes out as a reverse claw [i.e. using the back of the wrist] to attack his groin. This technique is very cruel and so you must not use it rashly. Some people wonder why this posture requires a claw-hand rather than using a fist, but this is in fact the key to the technique. The area below the crotch is wider below and narrower at the top. Using a fist will not work as well going from the previous posture into this posture, but a claw-hand coming upward from below will fit just right into that particular place, and this is why it is key to the posture.

第三式：提步右挫捶
Posture 3: LIFTED LEG, RIGHT SUBDUING PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，先提右後脚以成獨立式，左掌向前由上封下，右拳從內穿出乃成挫捶如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot lifts to make a one-legged stance as your left palm goes forward, sealing downward from above, and your right fist threads out from the inside with a subduing punch. See photo 3:

功用：
Application:
彼以我低馬沉手取其下路，立卽轉取我上路，我乃提步使高，先封去來手，再用挫捶法自下逆抽而上，耑擊其頷下，登山挫捶為螳螂拳極普遍之拳法，提步挫捶不單是使勢高己也，譬諭我剛封來手而欲挫捶之俄頃，彼勉强軋我一脚以求解圍，我亦已捉住來手勢難縱之者，因亦提步卸去來脚而强用捶挫之。
The opponent takes advantage of my low stance and low hands attacking to his lower body by immediately changing to attack my upper area, so I lift a leg to make my stance taller while sealing off his incoming hand, then counter by sending a subduing punch upward from below to strike to his chin. A subduing punch in a mountain-climbing stance is a very common technique in Mantis Boxing, but a subduing punch with a lifted leg happens just this once. In the moment that I firmly seal off his hand to then do a subduing punch, the opponent does an emergency crushing kick to my leg to try to keep me from reaching him, so when I grab his incoming hand to make it difficult for him to get away, I also lift my leg to avoid his incoming foot and can then powerfully apply the punch.

第四式：穿手右統捶
Posture 4: THREADING HAND, RIGHT THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，左捶自下穿出，至右拳鋒外為止，時右拳亦可收回腰部矣，右脚落下以成騎馬式，右拳乃自腰部直統而出，左掌則貼於右肩之上如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left fist threads out from below, and once it is to the outside of your right knuckles, your right fist can then withdraw to your waist. Then your right foot comes down to make a horse-riding stance as your right fist thrusts out from your waist, your left palm touching at your right shoulder. See photo 4:

功用：
Application:
彼手來搭我之挫捶，我先用左手穿去之，乘勢落馬用統捶法反攻其中部，此式驟視之旣似「黑虎偸心」或「馬式補捶」，其練時固不必以右拳擦過左掌而出也，此式比平常之統捶更能增高其力道之處，厥惟由提步踏下標馬之勢，旣有居高臨下之佳妙，又有如波浪之滾進也。
The opponent blocks my subduing punch, so I first use my left hand to thread out and take it aside, then come down into a horse-riding stance to attack his middle area. This posture resembles BLACK TIGER STEALS THE HEART or HORSE-RIDING STANCE, FILLING PUNCH. When practicing it, it is not at all necessary for your right fist to scrape past your left palm as it goes out, and thus this posture can be a better means of increasing your power than with the ordinary thrust punches. Due to the lifted leg coming down darting into a horse-riding stance, this technique has the elegance of descending from a height and also has the quality of rolling forward like an unstoppable wave.

第五式：登山右挫捶
Posture 5: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, RIGHT SUBDUING PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，撑直左後脚以成右登山式，左手向前由上封落，右拳收近腰部，再反拳由下抽上如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left leg presses straight to make a right mountain-climbing stance, your left hand going forward, sealing downward from above, as your right fist withdraws almost to your waist and then goes out upward from below with the fist turned over. See photo 5:

功用：
Application:
彼招去吾統捶後，另以一手打來，我卽以左手封住來手，右拳由下逆衝而上，專擊其下頷，第三式提腿之功用已述之如上，登山之特長是進退之間旣靈活而又穩健，且由騎馬轉為登山步之間，亦標進同具有衝擊之無比力道也。
The opponent deflects my thrust punch, then sends his other hand to strike, so I use my left hand to seal off his incoming hand, and my right fist turns over and thrusts upward from below, striking to his chin. The application is the same as in Posture Three, in which it is performed with a lifted leg, but the advantage of performing this technique in a mountain-climbing stance is that within the nimbleness of advance or retreat there is also more firmness, and furthermore, the switch from horse-riding stance into mountain-climbing stance darts you forward to make this thrusting strike overwhelmingly powerful.

第六式：扭步左黏肘
Posture 6: TWISTING STANCE, LEFT STICKY ELBOW

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，原步往右方一扭卽成扭步之勢，右拳改為刁手，往後一拉，左拳自下曲肘而上，與「崩步之第二十二式相同」如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your feet twist to the right to make a twisted stance as your right fist changes to a hooking hand and pulls to the rear, your left fist going upward from below with the elbow bent, the same as in Posture 22 of the Avalanche Steps set. See photo 6:

功用：
Application:
彼欲以手來挑高我之挫捶，我食住其手刁之，往後一拉，左手自下曲肘托上以斷其臂部，此是合兩手之勢與力及上下分勢之法去應付對方一隻手乃佔有絕大優勢也，若對方見機則不俟合力分勢之成而先曲肘卸去之，乃可脫離險境也。（見領崩步法）
The opponent tries to send out a hand to carry my subduing punch upward, so I receive his hooking hand and pull it to the rear, and my left forearm goes upward from below, elbow bent, to break his arm. This is a method of both hands working together to apply force upward and downward [i.e. your right hand bracing downward as your left elbow props upward], against a single arm, thus putting you in the superior position. If the opponent notices an opportunity, you will not have time for your hands to apply force together to make this technique, and you will instead have to pull your elbow back to keep yourself out of a dangerous situation. (It is the same technique as in the Avalanche Steps set.)

第七式：劈圈右仰膀
Posture 7: CHOPPING SWING, RIGHT PRESSING FOREARM

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，先進左脚，右拳自後劈前向下如「過渡式圖」，
Continuing from the previous posture, first your left foot advances as your right fist chops forward and downward from the rear [your left hand now touching the elbow area]. See photo 7a:

再進右脚以成入環步，手自右向左轉，復由內反出推前，右拳曲肘而向內，左拳貼於右腕之下如『定式』。
Then your right foot advances to make a kneeling stance as your [right] hand arcs to the left and then turns over from inside to push out forward, the center of your right fist facing inward, elbow bent, your left fist now touching below your right wrist. See photo 7b:

功用：
Application:
彼沉肘避過我黏肘，再漏手攻我肘之下，我乃先劈去來勢，再進馬用仰膀法緊貼而傾跌之。
The opponent sinks his elbow to evade my sticky elbow and then slips the hand through to attack under my elbow, so I first chop away his incoming attack, then advance while using a pressing forearm technique to crowd him and make him topple.

第八式：囘身刁踢腿
Posture 8: TURN AROUND, HOOKING HAND, SNAPPING KICK

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，自左轉身，先收右拳於腰部，左刁手與左脚同時向後東方而出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your body turns around to the left, your right hand withdrawing to your waist, as your left hooking hand and left foot go out in unison to the east behind you. See photo 8:

功用：
Application:
彼閃身過我後方，自我頭上劈來一捶，我若俟轉身迎架則失去主動與時間矣，因此乃用手腿合一之法破之，卽是以刁手搭去來手，脚則取其下路也。
The opponent dodges around behind me and attacks with a chopping punch toward my head. If I wait until I have turned around to block it, then I will have missed the moment, so I use a technique of sending out a hand and a foot in unison to defeat it, using a hooking hand to connect to his incoming hand while sending a foot to attack his lower area.

第九式：圈捶連環腿
Posture 9: SWINGING PUNCH, CONTINUOUS KICK

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，不俟左脚落地，卽全身凌空踢出右脚，同時右拳亦自腰部橫圈過左方，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, without waiting for your left foot to come down, your whole body leaps into the air and your right foot kicks out, your right fist at the same time going from your waist and swinging across to the left [to strike against your left palm]. See photo 9:

功用：
Application:
吾不俟彼招迎躱避卽以右脚繼出，使彼無從容應付之時間也，且恐威力不足更以右圈捶同時使用，以便威脅其上路也。
此法受之者固然認為險着，且用之者亦同具有冒險性之存在，是以非必用此法之時則以避免為佳。
Before the opponent has a chance to deflect or evade my kick, I immediately continue into sending out my right foot, causing him to have no time to deal with it. The power of this kick may be insufficient, so I add a right swinging punch at the same time into order to threaten his upper area. A training partner on the receiving end of this technique will consider it to be very dangerous, and the one performing it will also feel that it is too risky to apply. Therefore when it is not necessary to actually use this technique, it may be better to avoid doing so.

第十式：入環右仰膀
Posture 10: KNEELING STANCE, RIGHT PRESSING FOREARM

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，落下踢出之右脚，拉埋左脚以成入環步，手則按照圈捶之勢不變，轉歸內復轉推出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot comes down and your left foot pulls forward to make a kneeling stance, your hands staying in their swinging-punch position as they arc inward and turn over to push outward. See photo 10:

功用：
Application:
彼欲以手來捉我脚，我不俟其捉卽落步用仰膀力推之，使解我危。
上式是絕高及全身凌空出擊之法，此式則是極低之法，合兩式卽成如波浪之形矣，絕高與極低俱不可能連續數式者乃勢之所然與必然之理也，仰膀是合兩手分壓推之勁道為用其勢至强也。
The opponent tries to send a hand to grab my foot, but I bring it down before he has the chance and use a pressing-forearm technique to strongly push forward, thereby keeping myself from falling into danger. The previous posture is very high, involving the whole body leaping into the air while sending out an attack, whereas this posture is very low. The two postures combined make an effect of a wave crashing down. Alternating between very high and very low cannot be continued through many postures, or what you are doing would become predictable to the opponent. The pressing forearm is a very powerful technique as it involves the pushing power of both hands combined.

第十一式：撤步掛統捶
Posture 11: WITHDRAWING STEP, HANG & THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，兩脚左右不變，往後一撤便成右登山式矣，右拳橫架於頭上，左拳直衝而出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, without switching your feet, withdraw smoothly to the rear and make a right mountain-climbing stance as your right fist blocks across higher than your head and your left fist thrusts straight out. See photo 11:

功用：
Application:
彼避過我仰膀，再自我頭上劈來一捶，我卽撤步以成登山勢，右手橫架來手，左拳直取其中路，忽進忽退，飄忽無定，使敵難於捉摸，斯為拳術之為拳術也，倘呆板進擊又有何術之可言哉！標前撤後，左右橫跨等均為攻守上不可缺小之法。
The opponent evades my arm and then does a chopping punch toward my head, so I withdraw a step to make a mountain-climbing stance as my right hand blocks his incoming hand and my left hand attacks straight to his middle area. By suddenly advancing as I suddenly retreat, I appear to be acting without any pattern, causing him to have difficulty understanding what I am doing. This is a primary technique in the art, but if you attack stiffly, it will be no technique at all. Seek forward while withdrawing to the rear, your feet stepping evenly so that your offense and defense will leave no gap.

第十二式：登山右劈軋
Posture 12: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, RIGHT ROLLING CHOP

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，僅全身向前一標約有半步之遙，右上手由上向前劈落，將至定點時與左掌相碰，而有「必卜」之聲如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, your whole body shifts forward about a half step with your right hand going forward, chopping down from above, your left hand striking against it with an audible crack just before it reaches its final position. See photo 12:

功用：
Application:
彼漏手殺落我左手處，我隨卽以上手反劈其手，其勢至快而力猛也，上式是倒撤而退後，此式是標前而進，退進之間純賴步法之精純方克置之於實用，若欲求進退迅速之法必先瞭解其原理，然後力行之乃克有成。
The opponent sends out a hand to smash down onto my left hand, so I then use my upper hand to chop down at his hand, an action that is fast and fierce. The previous technique involved withdrawing and now this one involves shifting forward. The switch from retreating to advancing depends entirely on skillful footwork in order for it to be effective. If you wish for your advancing and retreating to be done swiftly, you must first understand this principle, and then you will be able to succeed at performing these techniques with vigor.

第十三式：蹤步穿梭式
Posture 13: LEAPING STEP, SENDING THE SHUTTLE THROUGH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，小跳進前仍為登山式，先左後右兩手刁自上刁下，如「過渡式」甲、
Continuing from the previous posture, hop forward to again make a mountain-climbing stance as both hands, your left hand still behind your right hand, hook downward from above. See photo 13a:

再右前刁手不動，左後手化成兩指直向前揷出，作取眼法，如「過渡式」乙，
With your right hooking hand not moving, your left hand changes to a double finger position and shoots out forward to do an eye attack. See photo 13b:

再原步不變，左指復化成刁手往後一拉，右刁手順手撞出如『定式』。
With your stance not changing, your left fingers than switch back to being a hooking hand, which pulls to the rear as your right hooking hand strikes out [with the wrist area]. See photo 13c:

功用：
Application:
彼欲作撤退之勢，我追踪跟之，先以兩手封閉其手，然後用取眼法搶攻之，彼必以手來招吾之險着，我卽順手刁之，再以撞爪法攻其肋內肺腑焉。
The opponent tries to retreat, so I follow him, first using my hands to seal off his hand, then doing a snatching attack to his eyes. He is sure to send out a hand to deflect my dangerous technique, so I use my hands to hook onto it, then use a crashing claw-hand maneuver to attack his ribs and thereby his lungs underneath them [although the photo seems to show that the throat may be the target instead].

第十四式：封手雙飛腿
Posture 14: SEALING HANDS, FLYING DOUBLE KICK

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，先原步不動，右前手化作封手，由前陽手封後，左後手由後往前以陰手封落，如「過渡式圖」，
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, your right hand goes to the rear as a sealing hand, the palm facing upward, while your left hand goes forward and downward, also as a sealing hand, the palm facing downward. See photo 14a:

再全身往前跳起，當蹤之至高時右脚亦隨之撑起，但兩手仍不變原來狀態，如『定式』。
Then your whole body jumps forward [kicking out with your left foot] and your right foot goes out with a bracing kick when the jump is reaching its peak of height, your hands maintaining their position. See photo 14b:

功用：
Application:
彼擬自我中下路攻來，我卽分陰陽手封閉之，彼以手為我控制，於是極力謀解脫，且欲退馬避我，我乘其退馬之際，空卽全身騰起用雙飛腿襲之。
The opponent tries to attack my middle or lower area, so I perform a sealing action with the palm of one hand facing downward, the other facing upward. Realizing I will now have control over his arm, he does his utmost to pull it back, trying to retreat away from me, so I ride along with his retreating by jumping into the air and surprise him with a flying double kick.

第十五式登山掛統捶
Posture 15: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, HANG & THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，將踢起之脚由原位置着地，以成右登山式，右拳曲肘橫架於頭上，左拳向前統出，如「定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your kicking leg comes back down to make a right mountain-climbing stance as your right fist blocks across higher than your head, the elbow bending, and your left fist thrusts our forward. See photo 15:

功用：
Application:
彼避過我仰膀，再自我頭上劈來一捶，我卽撤步以成登山勢、右手橫架來手，左拳直取其中路，忽進忽退，飄忽無定，使敵難於捉摸，斯為拳術之為第術也，倘呆板進擊又有何術之可言哉！標前撤後，左右橫跨等均為攻守上不可缺小之法。
The opponent evades my arm [leg] and then does a chopping punch toward my head, so I withdraw a step to make a mountain-climbing stance as my right hand blocks his incoming hand and my left hand attacks straight to his middle area. By suddenly advancing as I suddenly retreat, I appear to be acting without any pattern, causing him to have difficulty understanding what I am doing. This is a primary technique in the art, but if you attack stiffly, it will be no technique at all. Seek forward while withdrawing to the rear, your feet stepping evenly so that your offense and defense will leave no gap.

第十六式：登山右劈軋
Posture 16: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, RIGHT ROLLING CHOP

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，僅全身向前一標約有半步之遙，右上手由上向前劈落，將至定點時與左掌相碰，而有「心卜」之聲如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, your whole body shifts forward about a half step with your right hand going forward, chopping down from above, your left hand striking against it with an audible crack just before it reaches its final position. See photo 16:

功用：
Application:
彼漏手殺落我左手處，我隨卽以上手反劈其手，其勢至快而力猛也，上式是倒撤而退後，此式是標前而進，退進之間純賴步法之精純方克置之於實用，若欲求進退之迅速之法必先瞭解其原理，然後力行之乃有成。
The opponent sends out a hand to smash down onto my left hand, so I then use my upper hand to chop down at his hand, an action that is fast and fierce. The previous technique involved withdrawing and now this one involves shifting forward. The switch from retreating to advancing depends entirely on skillful footwork in order for it to be effective. If you wish for your advancing and retreating to be done swiftly, you must first understand this principle, and then you will be able to succeed at performing these techniques with vigor.

第十七式：橫圈大擺蓮
Posture 17: SWINGING PUNCH, LARGE SWINGING LOTUS KICK

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，先右拳不動，左掌化刁手往後刁去，如「過渡式圖」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your right fist not moving, first your left palm becomes a hooking hand and hooks away to the rear. See photo 17a:

再起右後脚至直橫向前掃去，同時右後捶則橫圈而前，以成如『定式』。
Then your right foot lifts and sweeps across in front of you as your right hand goes forward and across with a swinging punch. See photo 17b:

功用：
Application:
彼自我腦後襲來一捶，我不待轉身卽先以手刁之，再乘全身轉過之勢疾起右脚用擺蓮腿法，橫掃彼腰脅之間也。
An opponent suddenly punches from behind, so without waiting to turn my body, I send a hand to hook onto his attack, then spin my whole body around with the action of quickly lifting my right foot into an [inward] swinging lotus kick to sweep across to his rib area.

第十八式：登山掛統捶
Posture 18: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, HANG & THRUST PUNCH

〔說明：〕
[Explanation:]
循上式，先將擺起之脚轉過左方至正後方為止，身再從左轉便成為左登山式矣，左捶橫上曲肘架於頭上，右拳直統而出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your swinging kick arcs all the way through to the left and comes down behind you, your torso at the same time spinning around to the left, and you make a left mountain-climbing stance, your left fist blocking across higher than your head, the elbow bending, your right fist thrusting straight out. See photo 18:

功用：
Application:
與第十一及第十五式相同。
Same as in Postures 11 and 15.

第十九式：蹤步封統捶
Posture 19: JUMPING STEP, SEALING, THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，全身往前小跳，着地時仍為左登山式，兩手同時作雙封勢由上封下，如「過渡式圖」，
Continuing from the previous posture, your whole body goes forward with a hop to come down into another left mountain-climbing stance, your hands at the same time sealing downward from above. See photo 19a:

再直統出右拳如『定式』。
Then your right fist thrusts out. See photo 19b:

功用：
Application:
彼往後小跳，並出手攻我，我卽跟入先封來手，然後用統捶法攻之。
The opponent hops away to the rear and sends out a hand to attack me, so I follow him while first sealing off his incoming hand and then use a thrust punch to attack him.

第二十式：登山番車式
Posture 20: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, ROLLING PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，原步不動，右拳向上拉起，左拳由面前曲肘而出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, your right hand pulls upward and your left fist goes out from in front of your face, the elbow bending. See photo 20:

功用：
Application:
彼手來招，我卽順手一扣，再以左捶迎面打去。崩步拳之番車式為跨虎步。十八叟拳之番車式乃七星步，三套之同一手法而以步區別之，如要分別其佳劣，余曰：各擅勝場而已。跨虎是虛式隨時俱可出脚者，七星則易於變化換步，此式之登山步是穩健之步法也。
The opponent deflects my incoming hand, so I cover his hand and then use my left fist to strike to his face. (The rolling punch in the Avalanche Steps set is in a sitting-tiger stance. The rolling punch in the Eighteen Elders set is in a big-dipper stance. These three sets use the same hand technique in different stances. If you want to know which version is best, I say that each is the best for its particular situation. A sitting-tiger stance is an empty stance and is thus easy to kick from, a big-dipper stance is an easy position for switching into another position, and the mountain-climbing stance is a stance of solidity.)

第二十一式：登山掛統捶
Posture 21: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, HANG & THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，左拳轉上曲肘橫架於頭上，右拳轉至腰部再直統而出如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, your left fist arcs upward to block across higher than your head, the elbow bending, as your right fist arcs to your waist and then thrusts straight out. See photo 21:

功用：
Application:
與第十一，十五，十八等式同。
Same as in Postures 11, 15, and 18.

第二十二式：封手右撑腿
Posture 22: SEALING HANDS, RIGHT BRACING KICK

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，兩手同時化成封手，分右陽左陰向左封去，如「過渡式圖」，
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, your hands both switch to sealing, your right hand with its palm facing upward, left hand with its palm facing downward, sealing away to the left. See photo 22a:

再撑起右脚，如『定式』。
Then your right lifts and does a bracing kick. See photo 22b:

功用：
Application:
彼漏手攻我腰部，我卽用封手緊扣其腕肘之間，再以撑腿擊之。
The opponent evades my hand and attacks my waist, so I use sealing hands to close off his forearm, then attack him with a bracing kick.

第二十三式：囘身掛統捶
Posture 23: WITHDRAWING BODY, HANG & THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，先將撑起之脚往左後轉，轉至後方然後着地仍成左登山式，左拳橫架於頭上，右拳直統出，如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your kicking foot arcs to the left rear [with your body spinning leftward], coming down to again make a left mountain-climbing stance, as your left fist blocks across higher than your head and your right fist thrusts straight out. See photo 23:

功用：
Application:
與第十一、十五、十八、二十一等式同。
Same as in Postures 11, 15, 18, and 21.

第二十四式：跨虎挑統捶
Posture 24: SITTING-TIGER STANCE, CARRY & THRUST PUNCH

說明：
Explanation:
循上式，拉起左前脚以成左跨虎步，右拳自前化掌撇落右大腿之上，然後轉往頭上斜斜架起，左拳轉去腰部再統出，如（揷捶之收式）如『定式』。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot pulls back to make a left sitting-tiger stance as your right fist becomes a palm, swings down against your right thigh, then arcs upward higher than your head to block away diagonally, and your left fist arcs to your hip and then thrusts out. It is the same as in the closing posture of the Charging Punches set. See photo 24:

功用：
Application:
彼以脚撩陰，我先用掌拍消之，然後架於頭上以資掩渡，左拳直取中上路。
（全拳完）
The opponent does a raising kick toward my groin, so I first use my [right] palm to slap it away, then bring it up to guard my head as my left fist attacks to his middle or upper area. (This completes the entire set.)

–

Taijiquan Evolution 6 – Taijiquan returns to Chen Village | 太极拳回到陈家沟

Posted on 27 Giugno 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Bellissimo articolo su un brano di storia del Taiji della famiglia Chen e della Cina: sorgente Taijiquan Evolution 6 – Taijiquan returns to Chen Village | 太极拳回到陈家沟

Taijiquan Evolution 6 – Taijiquan returns to Chen Village | 太极拳回到陈家沟
Tuesday, 12 June 2018 17:00

1970’s Chenjiagou Taijiquan returns
The sixth entry in the coverage of Taijiquan styles development. As our Taijiquan history section denotes, Xi’an is the home of our Taijiquan (inclusive of Zhaobao and Chen Style) , in addition to the Beijing (Chen Style). The reasons for this are understood in the context of history and how Taijiquan became almost extinct in its homes of origin. We therefore outline the important return of Taijiquan to Chenjiagou (Chen Family Village).

Tang Hao visits Chen Family Village

In 1932, Tang Hao together with Chen Ziming journeyed to Chenjiagou. Chen Ziming was Chen Xin’s nephew and used to teach in Shanghai at the time. Tang Hao (1887-1959) was from humble beginings but worked hard in practising Six Harmonies Boxing (Liuhe Men, 六合门) and becoming a Lawyer. Tang Hao also studied many other martial arts including Chen Taijiquan, and Japanese styles during his time there. He was one of the editors of the publication department of the Nanjing Guoshu Academy.

When they arrived to the Chenjiagou, Chen Chunyuan (the nephew of Chen Xin) had a copy of a set of manuscripts that were written by his uncle over the course of 12 years. This text [Taijiquan Illustrated, 陈鑫陈氏太极拳图说] was published in 1933 and whilst it outlined the practice of Chen Style Taijiquan in the past (today it is known as Small Frame Taijiquan), it became a classic for all Chen Style Practitioners. At the time the practice of Taijiquan in Chenjiagou was still flourishing and the expression that almost everyone in Chenjiagou could practice some martial arts was evident. After just a few years little did people expect chaos an catastrophe to hit Chenjiagou.

The disasters of the 1940’s across the western areas of Henan Province

In 1938, Henan province was the centre of an ongoing effort by the Nationalist Government (Guomingdang, KMT) to stop the advance of the Japanese troops. Many local young men were conscripted into the army. The combination of natural and human factors ravaged Henan proivince. In 1941, locusts plagued Wen county and the Guomingdang (KMT) had taken controls over the area. Henan province was divided into the eastern half (under Japanese occupation) and the western half which was supposed to be under the Nationalist Government (based in Chongqing after fleeing Nanjing).

In 1942, the seasonal rains failed, causing severe drought. Combined with the ongoing locust plagues the harvests were destroyed and there was little food supply. The culmination of no local produce and the inability to obtain supplies from elsewhere during the conflict led an unfathomable situation of famine that started to cause great grief to the people during the winter of 1942. The famine caused significant tragedies with rising starvation and ongoing rise in diseases. In such dire situations families would sell their children in the hopes that would have a better chance elsewhere and some starving people had to resort to cannibalism or eating bark of the trees to try to survive. During the time an estimated 2 to 3 million people died from starvation or disease, and over 4 million people fled Henan province. Chenjiagou was in the centre of this drastic situation and of the 4,000 or so residents many suffered and over 800 fled (typically to Xi’an). During those years, many people left Chenjiagou (e.g. to Xi’an), many passed away in the wars, disease and famine.

Chen Family members and their demise through affiliation with KMT

After those years the situation improved ever so slowly in terms of famine and sino-japanese war, but the civil war between the CCP and the KMT continued. Since Chenjiagou was a part of the early movement into the area by the KMT, many of the villagers were associated with the KMT and reprimanded by the CCP. Some examples include Chen Zhaoxu (1912-1959) was the second son of Chen Fa’ke. Since Chen Zhaoxu was connected to the local militia affiliated with the KMT, he was jailed in 1955 and eventually passed away. Chen Zhaohai (1899-1950) was Chen Zhaopei’s brother. Chen Zhaohai fought in the nationalist army under Fan Tinglan. Later he relocated to Zhengzhou. In 1949, he was imprisoned and then under the Repression of Anti Revolutionists movement in 1950 was executed.

The New Large Frame of Taijiquan returns to Chenjiagou

Today’s what he could call mainstream Chen Style Tajiquan is derived mostly from the teachings of two key teachers that originated at Chenjiagou but resided elsewhere. These were Chen Fa’ke (1887-1957) who brought Chen Style Taijiquan to Beijing in 1928 and Chen Zhaopei (1893-1972) brought Chen Style Taijiquan to Nanjing in 1930 (originally was in Beijing then invited Chen Fa’ke to take over) and taught for over eight years.

In 1958, Chen Zhaopei whom resided in Zhengzhou at the time visited Chenjiagou for Chinese New Year. It was his first time back in decades. Chen Zhaopei whilst advanced in years (65) felt that it was a shame that there were no longer any practitioners in Chenjiagou. He was saddened that there were no successors in the birthplace of Taijiquan and no serious practitioners left in Chenjiagou. It was a difficult decision because at the time both his wife (second wife) and son (whom had a good job and family in Zhengzhou) were against him returning to Chenjiagou. He also had to retire from his work (Flood Control Committee) earlier foresaking an increase in his pension. Chen Zhaopei however against all odds felt a sense of responsibility and returned to the Chenjiagou during his retirement years. Unfortunately this was not going to be an easy quest for there were still a number of CCP initatives that impacted the ability to propagate and teach Taijiquan during those years. The Great Leap forward was distracting and in 1966-1976, The Cultural revolution saw the repression of traditional teachings including martial arts. Facilities were closed down and practitioners were prosecuted. Chen Zhaopei was said to have been persecuted by the red guards and even attempted suicide during those years. His legs were injured for almost two years and had to use a stool/walking assistance during the time. Much of the training had to be conducted in secret and many elements (eg weapons) a challenge to practice in confined space so mostly only the laojia yi lu was taught. After Chen Zhaopei’s death, Chen Zhaokui (Chen Fa’ke’s youngest son) continued teaching at Chenjiagou. The local secretary of the CCP for Wen County, Zhang Weizhen also invited Feng Zhiqiang to teach. Feng Zhiqiang visited three times for short intensive teaching sessions.

As a result the teachings at Chenjiagou were distinguished into the old (Chen Zhaopei’s) and the new (Chen Zhaokui’s) frame of practice. The Taijiquan practiced by the older generations would find a new home in Xi’an and become known as Chen Small Frame Taijiquan. Whilst the descendants of Chen Fa’ke would derive a number of different versions of Taijiquan practice (sometimes called Beijing Chen Style Taijiquan) including Li Jingwu, Lei Muni, Tian Xiuchen and Feng Zhiqiang amongst others.

Last modified on Sunday, 24 June 2018 17:28

Source: Taijiquan Evolution 6 – Taijiquan returns to Chen Village | 太极拳回到陈家沟

WUDANG SWORD NOTES

Posted on 20 Maggio 2018 by Paul Brennan

–

武當劍法筆記
NOTES ON THE WUDANG SWORD ART
（浙江温嶺胡子謨記）
(Recorded by “The Beard” of Wenling, Zhejiang [Yi Fanzhai])
[1939]

[translation by Paul Brennan, May, 2018]

–

[This text which began simply as a document for personal reference survives as an invaluable record of the sword art that had been handed down from Li Jinglin, presenting the five-section two-person sword set in much greater detail than the meager outline in Huang Yuanxiu’s 1931 manual, and Huang quite rightly decided to include it in the expanded version of his Martial Arts Discussions, which was later published in 1944. It is not clear whether Huang made any adjustment to Yi’s text, with only the parenthetical comment at the end of movement 2.4 seeming a likely addition on his part.
　　To make this text more functional, I have also plugged in all forty-one photos from Chapter Four of the 1931 book, showing Huang Yuanxiu (in the lighter outfit) and Chu Guiting (in the darker outfit) demonstrating the core techniques. These photos can be slightly confusing because Huang and Chu do not stay consistent in their roles as Person A and Person B, and the view is often shown from the reverse profile (Section Four being the only section where the roles and the view in the photos remain consistent). It is best to ignore their identities as Huang and Chu in each photo, and to pay attention only to who is portraying A and B based on their actions within any given photo. There is unfortunately not a photo for each movement, but there are enough of them to be very helpful for adding clarity to many of these movement descriptions.]

–

第一路
SECTION ONE

預備式（上手稱甲下手稱乙）
PREPARATION POSTURE (The person who makes the first move is called A, and the person who responds to it is called B.)

甲乙各執劍就位――
[1.1] A and B, each of you stand holding your sword.

左手執劍反貼左臂外方，右手垂直貼右胯傍，兩足平立，離開之距約與肩等，身體正直，目平視前方。
Your left hand is holding your sword backwards, touching the outside of your left forearm. Your right hand hangs down close beside your right hip. Your feet are standing parallel about shoulder width apart. Your body is upright and your gaze is forward.

出劍式
SENDING OUT THE SWORD [This posture is comprised of movements 1.2 and 1.3. (After PREPARATION POSTURE and SENDING OUT THE SWORD, none of the subsequent movements are grouped under specific names.)]

甲乙各交劍與右手――
[1.2] Both of you, switch your sword to your right hand.

右手戟指掌心向上，屈右腕與腰平，伸右臂向右與肩水平，頭向右轉目視右手，轉左足向左方，轉身上右足，左足微屈，右足着地，同時右手戟指向前一指，目視敵方。退右足同時轉身，兩手自左上向右後方畫一大圈，左右各收至胸前，右掌向上，左掌向下，將劍交與右手，斯時身體作勢下挫，重心寄於右足，目仍視敵方。
Your right hand forms a “spearing finger”, the center of the hand facing upward, your right wrist bent and level with your waist. Extend your right arm to the right to be at shoulder height, your head turning to the right, your gaze toward your right hand. Then your left foot turns to the left, your body turning, and your right foot steps forward, your left leg slightly bending, your right foot [toes] touching down, as your right hand’s spearing finger points forward and your gaze goes toward the opponent. Then your right foot retreats, your body turning [to the right], and both hands make a large circle from the upper left to the right rear until in front of your chest, your right palm facing upward, left palm facing downward, and you send the sword into your right hand. Your body is now squatting, the weight on your right leg, your gaze still toward the opponent.

甲乙各伸劍平刺――
[1.3] Both of you, extend your swords at each other with horizontal-blade stabs.

斯時左足在前，右足在後，成弓箭步，左手戟指在左額前方，右手極力伸劍平刺，太陽劍。
With your left foot forward, right foot behind, make a bow and arrow stance, your left hand’s spearing finger going in front of the left side of your forehead, your right hand putting all its energy into extending with a horizontal-blade stab, using a “full active grip” [i.e. tiger’s mouth facing to the right]. [The photo for this moment shows A and B closer to each other than they would be yet, with B already stepping his right forward to begin the next movement.]

[photo for movement 1.3, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲乙對反繃――
[1.4] Both of you, do an overturned flick to each other.

右足進一步立定左足作探步，蹲身向下，左手戟指微屈臂向左，右手以中陽劍反繃，頭向右，轉目注對方之腕。
Advance your right foot a step, stand firmly on it, and make a reaching step with your left foot, squatting your body down, as your left hand’s spearing finger goes to the left, the arm slightly bent, and your right hand uses a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] to do an overturned flick. Your head is turned to the right, your gaze turned to your opponent’s wrist.

[photo for movement 1.4, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲點腕――
[1.5] A, tap to B’s wrist.

突然起立轉身收左足，向左斜後方，半步着地，卽出右足，作預備姿勢，足尖點地，右手以中陰劍尖點敵腕，左手戟指微扶劍柄，目注敵腕。
Suddenly rise up, turning your body, withdrawing your left foot a half step diagonally to the left rear and then putting out your right foot the same as in the preparation posture, toes touching down, as your right hand uses a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to tap your sword tip toward B’s wrist, your left hand’s spearing finger slightly assisting at your sword handle [raised to the left in the photo]. Your gaze is toward B’s wrist.

[photo for movement 1.5, showing A on the left, B on the right]

[Huang later had another photo made of this situation, which appeared in his 1936 publication of Martial Arts Discussions, again showing Chu Guiting on the left in the role of A and Huang Yuanxiu on the right in the role of B.]

乙抽腕――
[1.6] B, do a drawing cut to A’s wrist.

乙亦突然起立，轉身立定左足，換出右足，向右後方退一步，右手以老陰劍從下方抽甲之腕，同時體重移於左足，成弓步，目視敵腕。
B, also suddenly stand up, turning your body, and stand firmly on your left foot, switching feet and sending your right foot back a step to the right rear [forward right], as your right hand makes a three-quarter passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the lower left] and does a drawing cut under A’s wrist, the weight at the same time shifting to your left [right] foot to make a bow stance. Your gaze is toward A’s wrist.

[photo for movement 1.6, showing A on the left, B on the right]

[According to the 1931 book, B follows his drawing cut by stabbing forward (with a vertical-blade stab), resulting in the extra image below (showing B on the left, A on the right, in a reversed view), meaning that A must have raised his wrist to evade the drawing cut, pulling his sword away enough to create a target for B to stab. Apparently A then responds to this by beginning the following movement slightly ahead of B.]

對刺――
[1.7] Both of you, stab toward each other.

甲乙各將右足後退，右手提劍前刺，（老陰劍）同時上體竭力向前探，左手戟指，置左額前方，手掌向外，目注敵方。
Both of you retreat your right foot as your right hand stabs your sword forward [and downward] into a lifting posture (using a three-quarter passive grip) [tiger’s mouth facing to the lower left], your upper body at the same time striving to reach forward, and your left hand’s spearing finger is placed in front of the left side of your forehead, the center of the hand facing outward. Your gaze is toward the opponent.

[photo for movement 1.7, showing A on the left, B on the right]

對繞走（換位）――
[1.8] Both of you, perform circle walking (switching places).

兩劍仍相交，甲乙各起右足，進步向左方繞走，對換位置，仍取前勢停止。
With your swords still touching, both of you lift your right foot and advance to the left into a [counterclockwise] circle walk, walking until you have switched places, stopping in the spots occupied in the previous movement.

乙反格――
[1.9] B, do an overturned block.

乙以中陽劍反格甲腕。
B, use a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] to do an overturned block to A’s wrist.

甲帶――
[1.10] A, do a dragging cut.

甲將劍轉為太陽劍，同時將肘往下一沈，劍往左帶，身半向左轉，兩足在原位置，左實右虛，目注敵人劍尖。
[At the same time,] turn your sword to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], sinking your elbow down, and do a dragging cut to the left, your body turning halfway to the left. Your feet will stay where they are, left [right] foot full, right [left] foot empty. Your gaze is toward B’s sword tip. [Following the pattern of the next movement, 1.9 and 1.10 should probably have been written in reverse order.]

[photo for movements 1.9 & 1.10, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

[Huang had another photo made of this situation, appearing in his 1936 book. In this photo, the partner on the left is Ye Jingcheng in the role of A, with Huang Yuanxiu again on the right in the role of B.]

乙帶腰甲反格乙腕――
[1.11] B, do a dragging cut to A’s waist. A, do an overturned block to B’s wrist.

甲見乙腕避去，已為我劍所不及，趁勢轉為太陽劍，帶乙之腰，乙卽含胸轉腰，避過甲劍，同時將劍變為中陽劍，反格甲腕，如是往復三遍。
A, when you see B’s wrist evade and that your sword will miss, take advantage of the situation by switching to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and doing a dragging cut to B’s waist. B, hollow your chest and turn your waist to evade A’s sword, at the same time switching to a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] and doing an overturned block to A’s wrist. Go back and forth in this way for a total of three times.

[photo for movement 1.11, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙壓劍貫耳――
[1.12] B, press down A’s sword and perform a “filling the ear” technique.

俟甲劍反格，正轉變帶腰時，突然將劍變為中陰劍，往下橫壓甲劍，
Wait until A’s sword switches from doing the overturned block to do another dragging cut to your waist, then suddenly switch to a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] and press down across his sword [the grip in the photo being aligned somewhat differently].

[photo for the first part of movement 1.12, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

隨卽起身以太陽劍貫甲右耳，左手扶住劍柄。
Then raise your body and strike [rightward] to his right ear using a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], your left hand assisting at your sword handle [although it is raised to the left in the photo].

甲直帶腕兼繃――
[1.13] A, do a vertical-blade dragging cut to B’s wrist with a flicking energy.

右手用中陰劍左手扶住劍柄。往後直帶復往下一沈，劍尖正對敵腕繃刺。
With your right hand using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] and your left hand assisting at your sword handle, go to the rear with vertical-blade dragging, then sink your hand down so that your sword tip heads toward B’s wrist as a flicking stab.

[photo for the second part of movement 1.12 and movement 1.13, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

[The photo above is used in the 1931 book to specifically demonstrate striking, even though it already shows the other person flicking in response, but then the book uses the variant photo below to highlight the vertical-blade dragging, even though it depicts the same striking situation. In the variant photo, Huang and Chu’s roles are reversed, as is the view.]

[Huang had yet another photo made of this situation, based on the variant photo, which appeared in his 1936 book, showing Ye Jingcheng on the left in the role of B, with Huang Yuanxiu again on the right in the role of A.]

對提――
[1.14] Both of you, make a lifting posture.

乙避甲之劍尖，提腕變為老陰劍，刺甲之腕，甲亦提腕，變為老陰劍以防之。
B, evade A’s sword tip by lifting your wrist, switching to a three-quarter passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the lower left], and stab toward A’s wrist. A will also lift his wrist and switch to a three-quarter passive grip to defend against it.

[photo for movement 1.14, showing A on the left, B on the right]

對劈――
[1.15] Both of you, chop at each other.

甲乙各將劍尖自左下方向上繞一小圓圈，變為中陰劍，直往下劈攻敵之右腕。
Send your sword tip upward in a small circle from the lower left, switching you to a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward], and chop downward toward your opponent’s right wrist.

乙刺喉甲粘帶――
[1.16] B, stab to A’s throat. A, stick to B’s sword with a dragging action.

乙右手變太陽劍左手扶住劍柄，由下往上正刺敵喉，斯時劍尖向敵喉，劍柄約當自己胸下，甲亦變為太陽劍，左手扶住劍柄，劍身粘住乙劍，同時身體微向右轉，帶去乙劍。
B, your right hand switches to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], your left hand assisting at your sword handle, and goes upward from below to stab straight toward A’s throat. When your sword tip is pointing toward A’s throat, your sword handle is just below your own chest. A, also switch to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], your left hand assisting at your sword handle, and with your sword body sticking to B’s sword, turn your body slightly to the right and drag aside B’s sword.

[photo for movement 1.16, showing B on the left, A on the right]

甲刺喉乙粘帶――
[1.17] A, stab to B’s throat. B, stick and drag.

甲旣帶去乙劍，趁勢伸劍刺乙之喉，乙亦轉身粘帶，復反刺甲，如是三遍（太陽劍圈）。
A, once you have dragged B’s sword aside, take advantage of the opportunity to extend your sword with a stab toward B’s throat. B, now you also turn your body while sticking to A’s sword, and then you will return a stab toward A. Do this [back and forth] for a total of three times (circling with a full active grip) [tiger’s mouth facing to the right].

[photo for movement 1.17, showing B on the left, A on the right]

甲橫攪乙隨之――
[1.18] A, perform horizontal stirring [circling clockwise]. B, go along with it [counterclockwise].

甲俟乙劍刺來時，將劍粘住乙劍，向右向下橫攪之，
A, wait until B’s sword is stabbing toward you, then stick your sword to his and go to the right and downward with horizontal stirring.

[photo for the first part of movement 1.18, showing B on the left, A on the right]

同時舉右足交步向左繞走乙隨之亦交步向左繞走，斯時兩劍相粘不離，隨攪隨走，各俟機會，但攪時各伸出右手，左手戟指置於左方，平掌向外，頭向右轉，目視敵劍。
At the same time, lift your right foot into a crossover step and do a circle walk to the left [i.e. counterclockwise]. B, also do a crossover step and circle walk to the left. At this time, both swords are sticking to each other, stirring while walking, both of you waiting for an opportunity. But while stirring, your right hand stays extended, your left hand’s spearing finger placed level toward the left, palm facing outward, your head turned to the right, your gaze toward your opponent’s sword.

乙擊頭――
[1.19] B, strike to the head.

如前繞走，彼此互換位置時兩劍尖已第二次互攪至下方，乙劍正換至甲劍外方，甲劍正向上攪乙趁勢以少陽劍擊甲之頭。
Once both of you have switched places in your circle walk, your sword tip has completed two downward stirs. B, when your sword has been moved to the outside [inside] of A’s sword and A’s sword is about to stir upward again, take advantage of the opportunity to use a one-quarter active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the upper right] and strike [leftward] to his head.

甲擊腿――
[1.20] A, strike to B’s thigh.

身微向左後披重點寄於左足，成左實右虛弓步，避過乙劍，同時右手變太陰劍，斬擊乙之右腿。
Your body slightly drapes to the left rear, the weight shifting to your left foot, making a bow stance of left foot full, right foot empty, in order to evade B’s sword. At the same time, your right hand switches to a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] and does a slashing strike [rightward] to B’s right thigh.

乙截腕――
[1.21] B, check to A’s wrist.

體重寄於左足，舉右足向左前方斜進半步，避去甲劍，同時右手變為太陰劍斜截甲腕。
The weight shifting to your left foot, raise your right foot and advance a half step diagonally to the forward left, evading A’s sword, while your right hand switches to a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] and does a diagonal checking action to A’s wrist.

甲帶腕――
[1.22] A, do a dragging cut to B’s wrist.

右手變為太陽，往左肩前帶避，劍尖向敵方劍把，較肩略低，目注敵人。
Switch to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and drag evasively toward the left until in front of your left shoulder, your sword tip now pointed toward B’s grip, slightly lower than shoulder level. Your gaze is toward B.

乙上步截腕――
[1.23] B, step forward and check to A’s wrist.

右足向右斜方趕上一步，右手用中陰劍，截敵右腕，重心移於右足，成右實左虛弓步。
Step your right foot forward diagonally to the right, and with your right hand using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward], check to A’s right wrist, the weight shifting to your right foot, making a bow stance of right foot full, left foot empty.

甲抽手――
[1.24] A, do a drawing cut to B’s hand.

將腕往下一沈，避去乙劍，同時右手變為老陰劍，從左向右抽乙握劍之手。
Sink your right wrist downward to evade B’s sword, at the same time switching to a three-quarter passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the lower left], and go from left to right with a drawing cut to B’s hand.

乙抽避甲刺腹――
[1.25] B, withdraw to evade. A, stab to his belly.

趁乙抽劍避開之時，用中陰劍直刺乙腹，斯時體重移於右足。
A, as B draws back his sword to evade, take advantage of the moment by using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab to his belly, your weight now shifting to your right foot.

乙截腕――
[1.26] B, do a [left] check to A’s wrist.

身微側讓去敵劍，右手用中陰劍橫截敵腕，斯時體重寄於右足。
With your body slightly leaning to the side to evade A’s sword, your right hand uses a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to check across his wrist, your weight now shifting to your right foot.

[photo for movements 1.25 & 1.26, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲帶乙反格――
[1.27] A, drag. B, do an overturned block.

甲用太陽劍姿勢，將右腕往左前方一帶避開，同時收回右足移向左斜方半步，身半向左：目視敵方，乙劍跟隨敵腕由下往上反格，中陽。
A, using a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], drag your right wrist evasively to the forward left [left rear]. At the same time, withdraw your right foot a half step diagonally to the left, your body turned halfway to the left, your gaze toward your opponent. B, your sword follows A’s wrist upward from below to do an overturned block using a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward].

甲抽腕保門――
[1.28] A, do a drawing cut to B’s wrist to get into the “guarding the gate” posture.

將右腕往上一翻，變為太陰劍，同時劍尖向下由左往右抽乙之腕，退步（右足往後退一步）轉身，斯時右手微屈高舉在右額前，成中陽劍，劍尖向敵，左手戟指扶住右腕，身體向右，體重寄於右足，左足置於右足左前方半步，足尖點地，目注敵方。
Your right wrist goes upward, turning over and switching to a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left], and your sword tip, now angled downward, does a drawing cut to B’s wrist, from left to right, as you retreat your right foot a step, turning your body. Your right hand, arm slightly bent, is now raised up in front of the right side of your forehead in a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward], your sword tip pointing toward B. Your left hand’s spearing finger is assisting at your right wrist. Your body is turned to the right, the weight shifted to your right foot. Your left foot is placed a half step in front of your right foot to the forward left, toes touching down. Your gaze is toward B.

[photo for second part of movement 1.27 and movement 1.28, showing B on the left, A on the right (reverse view)]

乙帶腕保門――
[1.29] B, do a dragging cut to A’s wrist, then get into the “guarding the gate” posture.

乙劍變為太陽，往左帶敵之腕，同時收右足至左足前方半步，然後變為中陽劍，右足往右後方退一步立定，成保門姿勢。
B, switch to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and go to the left with a dragging cut to [the inside] of A’s wrist, at the same time withdrawing your right foot until a half step in front of your left foot. [Although the photo above depicts A finishing his drawing cut while B is still in his blocking position, the dragging cut described here will happen as A is beginning his drawing cut and the swords will then be pulling away from each other at the same time.] Then switch to a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward], retreat your right foot a step to the right rear, and stand firmly on it, making the “guarding the gate” posture.

[This guarding posture is perhaps best exhibited in the photo that goes with the first movement of Section Four, by B on the left side of the photo.]

（完）
(This completes Section One [which has a total of twenty-nine movements and is comprised of twenty-two different techniques].)

–

第二路
SECTION TWO

乙上步擊頂――
[2.1] B, step forward and strike to A’s head.

右足前進一步，同時右手以少陽劍擊甲之左頂，左手分開置於左後方。
Advance a step with your right foot as your right hand uses a one-quarter active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the upper right] to do a [leftward] striking action to the left side of A’s head, your left hand spreading away to the left rear.

甲上步擊腕――
[2.2] A, step forward and strike to B’s wrist.

右足前進一步，同時右手用太陽劍擊乙之腕，左手分開置於左後方。
Advance a step with your right foot as your right hand uses a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] to do a [leftward] striking action to B’s wrist, your left hand also spreading away to the left rear.

[photo for movements 2.1 & 2.2, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲乙對提――
[2.3] Both of you, make a lifting posture.

乙先提，甲隨之式如前。
B lifts first, then A, same as before [movement 1.14].

[photo for movement 2.3, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲乙對刺膝――
[2.4] Both of you, stab to the knee.

各將右足微起用左足着力一蹬，箭步前進，刺敵之膝，但兩劍相拒，各刺不中（此時另有動作須面授）。
Both of you slightly lift your right foot, pressing the ground with your left foot, and advance into a bow and arrow stance, stabbing to your opponent’s knee. But because your swords are resisting against each other, the stabs go off center. (The rest of the movement at this point requires personal instruction.) [This is perhaps referring to the tighter way the two people are walking around each other rather than normal circle walking.]

甲乙各上步反繃――
[2.5] Both of you, step forward and do an overturned flick.

當刺不中，彼此挨身而過時，各將劍變為中陰，竭力使用劍身粘住敵劍，（防其趁勢而入帶腰或帶腿也）斯時雙方各將左足前進一步，披身下挫，同時以中陽劍反繃敵腕。
When your stabs miss, both of you wait for the other’s body to go past, then switch your grip to half passive [tiger’s mouth facing upward], deliberately sticking your sword body to the other sword (thereby preventing him from taking advantage of the opportunity to come in with a dragging cut to your waist or thigh). Then both of you advance your left foot a step forward [behind your right leg], draping your body by bending forward, while using a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] to do a reverse flick toward your opponent’s wrist.

[photo for movement 2.5, showing B on the left, A on the right]

甲轉身點腕――
[2.6] A, turn your body and tap to B’s wrist.

以左足着地迅速轉身起立，收回右足，成預備步，同時以中陰劍點敵之腕。
Pivoting [withdrawing] your left foot, quickly turn your body and stand up, withdrawing [putting out] your right foot, the same as in the preparation posture, and at the same time use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to tap toward B’s wrist.

[photo for movement 2.6, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

乙轉身斜步繃腕――
[2.7] B, turning your body, step diagonally, and flick to A’s wrist.

迅速轉身起立，以右足着地，左足隨卽向左側方移進一步，收回右足，成預備步，身向下沈左手扶住劍柄，同時劍尖向上斜繃敵腕。
Pivoting on your right foot, quickly turn and stand up, advancing your left foot a step to the left side and withdrawing your right foot to stand the same as in the preparation posture. [The text is therefore calling for an empty stance rather than the bow stance in the photo, which would make sense considering that B will have to step forward into a right bow stance in his next movement.] With your body sinking down and your left hand assisting at your sword handle, flick your sword tip diagonally upward toward A’s wrist.

[photo for movement 2.7, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

甲抽――
[2.8] A, do a drawing cut.

將腕往右外避去乙劍，右腕下沉抽乙握劍手，同時右足向右前斜方跨出半步，重心在右足。
Send your wrist outward to the right to evade B’s sword, then sink your right wrist into a drawing cut to B’s sword hand, at the same time stepping your right foot out diagonally a half step to the forward right, the weight going onto your right foot.

乙刺腹――
[2.9] B, stab to A’s belly.

趁甲抽劍避開之時，用中陰劍直刺甲腹，同時右足向右前斜移半步，重心寄于右足。
When A evades by doing a drawing cut, [draw back your sword and then] use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab to his belly, at the same time shifting your right foot diagonally a half step to the forward right, the weight going onto your right foot.

甲左截腕――
[2.10] A, do a left check to B’s wrist.

俟乙劍刺腹時，將身略偏避去乙劍，同時右手以中陰劍向前截乙執劍之手，重心仍在右足。
Wait for B’s sword to be stabbing toward your belly, then slightly lean away to evade his sword, at the same time using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to go forward to his hand with a checking action, the weight still on your right foot.

[photo for movements 2.9 & 2.10, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙劈甲亦劈――
[2.11] B chops and A also chops.

如前對劈之式。
Same as before [movement 1.15].

乙上步貫耳――
[2.12] B, step forward and perform “filling the ear”.

右手變為太陽劍，左手扶住劍柄，上右足探身伸劍貫敵右耳。
Switch to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], and with your left hand assisting at your sword handle [although it is raised to the left in the photo], step your right foot forward, reach with your body, and extend your sword in a [rightward] strike to A’s right ear.

甲平帶――
[2.13] A, do a horizontal dragging cut.

右手用太陽劍，垂肘轉腰，同時將劍往右後方平帶乙腕，格開乙劍。
With your right hand using a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], drop your elbow and turn your waist, at the same time sending your sword to the right rear in a horizontal dragging cut [using the inner edge] to B’s wrist, thereby blocking his sword aside.

[photo for movements 2.12 & 2.13, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙抽腿――
[2.14] B, do a drawing cut to A’s leg.

趁勢將劍一翻，變為太陰，轉身抽甲之腿。
Take advantage of the opportunity to turn your sword over, switching to a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left], and turn your body [with your right foot stepping to the forward right] as you do a drawing cut to A’s leg.

甲刺腕――
[2.15] A, stab to B’s wrist.

向左斜方舉起右腿，避去乙劍，同時右手將劍尖指敵右腕刺去。
Lift your right leg diagonally to the left to evade B’s sword, then your right hand points your sword tip toward his right wrist and stabs.

[photo for movements 2.14 & 2.15, showing B on the left, A on the right]

[Huang had another photo made of this situation, appearing in his 1936 book, showing Ye Jingcheng on the left in the role of B, Huang Yuanxiu again on the right in the role of A.]

乙退步繞避，甲進步追刺――
[2.16] B retreats with an evasive arc as A advances with a chasing stab.

乙向右退步繞避，甲向左進步繞追，雙方各循半圓形之弧線進退。
B, retreat to the right, making an evasive arc, as A advances to the left, making a chasing arc. Both of you are performing your retreat and advance [with your feet] while drawing a half circle [with your swords].

甲抽腹乙含胸轉腰刺腕――
[2.17] A, do a drawing cut to B’s belly. B, hollow your chest, turn your waist, and stab toward A’s wrist.

甲進至中圓形弧線將終點時，將劍轉為太陰，抽乙之腹，
A, advance until you reach the full extent of the arc you are drawing, then turn your grip to full passive [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] and do a drawing cut to B’s belly.

[photo for movement 2.16 and the first part of movement 2.17, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙卽含胸轉腰避去甲劍，同時將己劍轉為太陽，刺甲之腕。
B, hollow your chest and turn your waist to evade A’s sword, at the same time switching to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and doing a [horizontal-blade] stab toward his wrist.

甲退步繞避乙進步追刺――
[2.18] A retreats with an evasive arc as B advances with a chasing stab.

甲亦向右循半圓形弧線退步繞避，乙進步繞追，如是三遍。
A, it is now your turn to retreat, stepping to the right, as you make an evasive arc, while B chases [stepping to the left], making a chasing arc, and thereby you are both drawing the other half of the circle. Do this for a total of three times [i.e. drawing three full circles].

乙壓劍上步擊頂――
[2.19] B, press down A’s sword, then step forward and strike to his head.

乙繞退將至終點時，突然止步將劍變為太陽，微抬其腕，讓甲劍從腕下刺過，趁勢將甲劍壓格於外方，隨卽上步擊甲之左頂。
B, when your circling retreat has brought you back to where you started, suddenly stop, turning your sword to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and slightly raising your wrist to allow A’s sword to stab under it, then take advantage of the opportunity by pressing down A’s sword and block it outward. Then step forward with a [leftward] strike to the left side of A’s head.

甲退步帶腕上步回擊――
[2.20] A, retreat with a dragging [drawing] cut to B’s wrist, then step forward, returning a strike.

退步避過乙劍，同時將劍往右外方平帶，
Retreat to evade B’s sword while sending your sword outward to the right with a horizontal dragging [drawing] cut.

[photo for the second part of movement 2.19 and the first part of movement 2.20, showing B on the left, A on the right]

復趁勢上步回擊乙之左頂。
Then take advantage of the opportunity to step forward and return a [leftward] strike to the left side of B’s head.

乙退步抽腕保門――
[2.21] B, retreat with a drawing cut to A’s wrist, both of you returning to the guarding posture.

俟甲伸劍進擊，轉為中陽劍，從下方抽甲之腕，同時右足退一步保門。甲退步保門。
Wait for A to reach out with his sword, advancing to strike, then turn your sword to a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] and go from below with a drawing cut to A’s wrist. At the same time, retreat your right foot a step, returning you to the guarding posture, and then A also retreats to return to the guarding posture.

[The 1931 book replaces B’s drawing cut with both people getting into a lifting posture as a means to return to the guarding posture. The accompanying photo shows both people pulling back from lifting, but already retreated into the guarding posture in terms of their feet. The result is that they are standing in this image much closer than they would be, a similar situation to the photo for movement 1.3, possibly indicating in both cases that the photographer may have had a cramped studio and could not widen the frame enough to have two people standing very far apart.]

（完）共十九式不同者十式
(This completes Section Two, which has a total of nineteen [twenty-one] movements and is comprised of ten different techniques.)

–

第三路
SECTION THREE

乙上步劈頂――
[3.1] B, step forward, chopping to A’s head.

右足上步，右手用中陰劍，正劈甲頂。
Step forward with your right foot, your right hand using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a chop straight to A’s head.

甲格劍進步翻身帶腰――
[3.2] A, block B’s sword, advance, turning your body, and do a dragging cut to B’s waist.

上右足，用中陽劍格，
Step forward with your right foot, using a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] to block to B’s sword.

[photo for movement 3.1 and the first part of movement 3.2, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

隨卽向左前方進左足，復交步上右足，右手將劍轉為太陽，帶乙之腰。
Quickly advance your left foot to the forward left, then your right foot will step forward with a crossover step, your right hand turning your sword over into a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], and do a dragging cut to B’s waist.

乙格腕帶腰――
[3.3] B, block to A’s wrist, then do a dragging cut to his waist.

一面含胸轉身，退右足避過敵劍，一面將劍尖下指，右腕上提，從左往右外方格甲之腕，
Hollowing your chest and twisting your body, retreat your right foot to evade A’s sword. At the same time, point your sword tip downward, lifting your right wrist, and go outward from left to right with an [overturned] block to A’s wrist.

[photo for the second part of movement 3.2 and the first part of movement 3.3, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

甲旣翻身避去，乙迅速向左前方進左足，復交步上右足，亦將劍變為太陽帶甲之腰。
A will twist his body away to evade this, so quickly advance your left foot to the forward left, step your right foot forward with a crossover step, and change your grip to full active [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] as you do a dragging cut to his waist.

甲格腕帶腰――
[3.4] A, block to B’s wrist and drag to his waist.

亦如乙之動作，如是互換繞走數遍。
This is the same as B’s movement. Circle walk [counterclockwise] in this manner, repeating the movement a number of times until you have switched places.

乙壓劍貫耳――
[3.5] B, press down A’s sword and perform “filling the ear”.

俟甲劍轉為太陽，尚未進步帶腰之際，用中陰劍往下擊壓，
Wait for A to turn his sword to the full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], and in the moment before he has advanced to drag to your waist, use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to hit downward with a pressing action.

[photo for the first part of movement 3.5, showing A on the left, B on the right]

隨卽起身上步，用太陽劍貫甲右耳。
Then raise your body and step forward, using a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] to strike [rightward] to his right ear.

甲直帶繃――
[3.6] A, do a [vertical-blade] dragging cut with a flicking energy.

起身微向後挫，用中陰劍直帶兼繃敵之腕。
Raise your body and slightly sit back, using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade dragging cut, flicking toward B’s wrist.

[photo for the second part of movement 3.5 and movement 3.6, showing A on the left, B on the right]

乙提――
[3.7] B, make a lifting posture.

如以前式，提劍刺敵之腕。
As performed previously [movement 1.14], make a lifting posture, stabbing toward A’s wrist.

甲反擊腕――
[3.8] A, do a reverse strike toward B’s wrist.

右足向左方交進一步，身向下蹲，同時將劍從左下方繞一圓圈，側面反擊敵之右腕，左手扶住劍柄，頭向右轉，目注敵右腕。
Advance your right foot with a crossover step to the left and squat your body down, at the same time sending your sword downward to the left and circling back up from the side with a reverse strike [i.e. rightward] toward B’s right wrist, your left hand assisting at your sword handle, your head turning to the right, your gaze going toward B’s right wrist.

乙反擊腕――
[3.9] B, do a reverse strike toward A’s wrist.

亦用甲同樣動作姿勢反擊。
Do the same movement as A, also making a reverse strike toward his wrist.

[photo for movements 3.8 & 3.9, showing A on the left, B on the right]

對繞走――
[3.10] Both of you, circle walk.

甲乙兩劍尖各指敵腕，蹲身繞走，從左方向右繞走，至互換位置時停止。
With both of you using your sword tip to point toward the other’s wrist, squat your body and walk in a rightward [counterclockwise] circle until you have switched places.

乙抽劍刺――
[3.11] B, withdraw your sword, then stab.

突然抽劍向後變為中陰劍直刺，同時右足開一步向右。
Suddenly withdraw your sword to the rear, changing to a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward], then do a vertical-blade stab, at the same time stepping your right foot out to the right.

甲反格腕――
[3.12] A, do a reverse block to B’s wrist.

抽劍向後，同時右足開一步向右，用中陰劍，從敵腕下反格之。
Withdraw your sword to the rear, at the same time stepping your right foot out to the right, and use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a reverse block under B’s wrist.

[photo for movements 3.11 & 3.12, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

乙直帶腕――
[3.13] B, do a vertical-blade dragging cut to A’s wrist.

微抬其腕，劍尖向下交敵之腕，隨卽將腕往下一沈，向後抽帶。
Slightly raise your wrist so your sword tip angles downward and crosses over A’s wrist, then sink your wrist downward and withdraw to the rear with a dragging cut.

甲反手帶腕――
[3.14] A, turn your hand over and do a dragging cut to B’s wrist.

甲將肘往下往左避去敵劍，同時反腕，成中陽劍，抽帶敵腕。各退步保門。
A, send your elbow downward to the left to evade B’s sword, at the same time turning your wrist to make a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward], and withdraw with a dragging cut to B’s wrist [using the inner edge]. Then you both retreat to the guarding posture.

（完）其計十五式不同者六式
(This completes Section Three, which has a total of fifteen [fourteen] movements and is comprised of six different techniques.)

–

第四路
SECTION FOUR

甲上步洗――
[4.1] A, step forward and do a clearing cut.

右足前進一大步，右手執劍從右下方往上洗，變為中陽劍，伸直右臂左手戟指，置於左後方，兩足成右實左虛弓步，目視敵方。
Advance your right foot a large step, your right hand sending your sword clearing upward from the lower right, switching to a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward], your right arm reaching, your left hand’s spearing finger placed to the left rear, your feet making a bow stance of right foot full, left foot empty. Your gaze is toward the opponent.

[photo for movements 4.1, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙上步帶腕（陽劍圈起手式）――
[4.2] B, step forward and do a dragging cut to A’s wrist (circling your sword to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] with your hand lifted).

右足向左前方側進一步，身體微蹲，右手執劍，從右上方經右下方向左前方復轉右前方，畫一螺旋形反帶甲之右腕，斯時變成太陽劍，伸直右臂，左手同時扶住劍柄，頭半向右轉，目注敵腕，兩足成交步。
Advance your right foot a step to the forward left, slightly squatting your body, as your right hand draws a circle with your sword from the upper right to the lower right to the forward left, then again to the forward right to finish the circle with a reverse [i.e. inner edge] dragging cut toward A’s right wrist. Your grip has now switched to full active [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and your right arm is extended. Your left hand at the same time assists at your sword handle. Your head is turned halfway to the right, your gaze toward A’s wrist. Your feet are making a crossover stance.

甲上步帶腕（陽劍圈起手式）――
[4.3] A, step forward and do a dragging cut to B’s wrist (circling your sword to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] with your hand lifted).

亦如乙之動作姿勢，反帶乙腕。
Mirror B’s movement by [stepping your right foot out to the left and] doing a reverse dragging cut toward his wrist.

[photo for movements 4.2 & 4.3, showing B on the left, A on the right]

對陽劍圈――
[4.4] Both of you, make circles with full active grips [tiger’s mouth facing to the right].

甲乙各先進左足，同時將劍往自己懷中帶回，
Both of you advance first your left foot while withdrawing your sword with a [reverse] dragging cut.

[photo for the first part of movement 4.4, showing B on the left, A on the right]

次進右足，同時將劍由左往右平走一圓圈，反帶敵腕，如是繞走三遍。
Then advance your right foot while again sending your sword across from left to right. Continue into a [counterclockwise] circle walk while doing these reverse dragging cuts toward your opponent’s wrist, walking in this way as your swords make a total of three circles.

對陰劍圈――
[4.5] Both of you, make circles with full passive grips [tiger’s mouth facing to the left].

甲乙各將劍變為太陰，同時開右足向右側方探步，一面繞走，一面抽敵腕與敵腹，如是繞走三遍。
Both of you switch your sword to a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] while stepping your right foot out to the right side in a reaching step, then continue into a [clockwise] circle walk as you each do [reverse (i.e. inner edge)] drawing cuts [moving from right to left] toward the other’s wrist or belly, walking in this way as your swords make a total of three circles.

乙進步攪――
[4.6] B, advance with [vertical] stirring.

如前繞走至終圈時，突然將劍往胸前收回，變為太陽劍，劍尖從右往左（在敵腕上）
Once you have circle walked back to where you started, suddenly withdraw your sword in front of your chest, changing to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], and your sword tip goes from right to left (over A’s wrist).

[photo for the first part of movement 4.6, showing B on the left, A on the right]

復從左往右（在敵腕下）繞攪敵腕，
Then your sword tip goes from left to right (under A’s wrist), stirring a full [counterclockwise] circle around his wrist.

[photo for the second part of movement 4.6, showing B on the left, A on the right]

一面逐步前進，左手扶住劍柄，此動作全在腰腿手腕一致敏活，否則難以得勁勢矣。
While stirring, you are also chasing forward [though the photos do not really seem to demonstrate any stepping] and your left hand is assisting at your sword handle. This [stirring] movement entirely comes from the liveliness of your hips and wrist, otherwise it is difficult to get the energy of it.

甲退步攪――
[4.7] A, retreat with [vertical] stirring.

甲亦如乙之動作，但隨乙之進逼，逐步後退，（進退之步法須四平步挫腰）。
A, this is the same as B’s movement, but while B is advancing, you are retreating [and your stirring is instead making a clockwise circle]. (The advancing and retreating steps should be coordinated with folding in at the waist [indicating that the opposite hip is coming forward with each step, thus bringing your sword handle across your body as you go].)

乙退步抽帶――
[4.8] B, retreat with drawing and dragging.

用太陰太陽劍，從敵腕下方抽帶，一面逐步後退，（此式如太極劍中之獅子搖頭）。
Using both the full passive [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] and full active [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] grips, draw and drag under A’s wrist while retreating. (This is the same technique as Taiji Sword’s LION SHAKES ITS HEAD.)

甲進步抽帶――
[4.9] A, advance with drawing and dragging.

亦用太陽太陰劍，從敵腕上方抽帶，但甲用抽，則乙用帶，適與相反，一面逐步前進。
Using both the full active [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and full passive [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] grips, draw and drag on top of A’s wrist while advancing. While you are drawing, B is dragging, and so you should be doing the opposite of each other.

[photos for movements 4.8 & 4.9, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙繃腕――
[4.10] B, do a flick to A’s wrist.

退回原位置時，突然用中陰劍上繃甲腕。甲抽劍避之。兩手相左右分開。
When you have retreated to your original position, suddenly use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to flick upward toward A’s wrist. A will withdraw his sword to evade it by spreading his hands apart to the sides.

乙上步刺頭――
[4.11] B, step forward and stab to A’s head.

斯時見敵方正面無備，上步用中陰劍直刺其面。
Noticing that A is now unguarded in front, step forward and use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab to his face.

甲壓劍――
[4.12] A, press down B’s sword.

將頭向左側一偏，避過敵劍，同時右手將劍壓住敵劍，向右下方，兩足須左實右虛。
Lean your head away to the left to evade B’s sword, your right hand at the same time sending your sword to press B’s sword to the lower right. Your feet should be left foot full, right foot empty.

乙反壓――
[4.13] B, do a counter press.

將敵劍反壓於左下方，兩足須左實右虛。
Send A’s sword to the lower left with a counter press. Your feet should be left foot full, right foot empty.

甲帶腿――
[4.14] A, do a dragging cut to B’s leg.

趁我劍被壓時，進劍帶敵之右腿，隨卽起身，將劍反擊敵之右耳，伸直右手，兩足右實左虛弓步。
Go along with being pressed down by advancing your sword into a dragging cut to B’s right leg. [B of course lifts his leg to evade this and then puts it down again.] Then raise up your body and do a reverse strike to B’s right ear, straightening your right arm. Your feet are in a bow stance of right foot full, left foot empty.

乙直帶兼繃。――
[4.15] B, do a vertical-blade dragging cut with a flicking energy.

身體微向後傾，同時用中陰劍，由前向後直帶敵腕，終仍變為繃式。
Your body slightly leans back as you use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to pull back with a vertical-blade dragging cut to A’s wrist, finishing as a flicking action.

[photo for the second part of movement 4.14 and movement 4.15, showing B on the left, A on the right]

[Although the 1931 book suggests using this variant version at this point in the set, emphasizing the vertical-blade dragging more than the flicking, the text here does not indicate that this situation is substantially different from what is described in movements 1.13 and 3.6, and so the earlier photo would seem to work just as well.]

甲乙各提劍保門――
[4.16] Both of you, make a lifting posture, then return to the guarding posture.

甲先變為提，乙隨之。
A first switches to lifting, then B.

[photo for the first part of movement 4.16, showing B on the left, A on the right]

（完）共計十七式不同者十式
(This completes Section Four, which has a total of seventeen [sixteen] movements and is comprised of ten different techniques.)

–

第五路上
SECTION FIVE – Part 1

甲乙各作伏勢――
[5.1] Both of you, get into a crouching posture.

身向右後方下披，重點寄於右足，伸直左腿，近貼地面，右手變為太陽劍，橫於胸前，劍尖向敵，左手戟指扶右手之腕，目視敵方。
Your body goes to the right rear and drapes downward, the weight shifting onto your right foot, your left leg straightening and almost touching the ground, as your right hand switches to a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] and holds your sword across the front of your chest, the tip pointing toward the opponent, your left hand’s spearing finger assisting at your right wrist. Your gaze is toward the opponent.

甲上步直刺――
[5.2] A, step forward and do a vertical-blade stab.

聳身向前，右足前進一步，右手用中陰劍直刺敵胸。
Launch your body forward, your right foot advancing a step, as your right hand uses a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab to B’s chest.

乙上步擊腕――
[5.3] B, step forward and strike to A’s wrist.

聳身向前，右足前進一步，右手用太陽劍，平擊敵腕。
Launch your body forward, your right foot advancing a step, as your right hand uses a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] to strike across [leftward] to A’s wrist.

甲抬腕平擊腕――
[5.4] A, raise your wrist and strike across to B’s wrist.

抬高手腕避過敵劍，同時以太陽劍，平擊敵腕。
Raise up your wrist to evade B’s sword, at the same time using a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right] to strike across [leftward] to B’s wrist.

[photo for movements 5.3 & 5.4, showing B on the left, A on the right]

乙側身截腕――
[5.5] B, take your body to the side and check to A’s wrist.

左足向左側開進一步，成左實右虛弓步，體重寄於左足，同時右手用中陰劍，從敵之右前方，側截其腕。
Your left foot advances a step out to the left side, making a bow stance of left foot full, right foot empty, the weight shifting to your left foot. At the same time, your right hand uses a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to go to the forward right with a [right] check to A’s wrist from the side.

[photo for movement 5.5, showing A on the left, B on the right (reverse view)]

甲側身截腕――
[5.6] A, take your body to the side and check to B’s wrist.

亦如乙之動作姿勢。
Same as B’s movement and posture above.

對提對繞走――
[5.7] Both of you, make a lifting posture, then circle walk [counterclockwise].

此兩動作已見前第一路中。
These two actions are the same as in Section One [movements 1.7 & 1.8].

[photo for the first part of movement 5.7, showing B on the left, A on the right]

甲正繃腕――
[5.8] A, do an upright flick to B’s wrist.

繞走至互換位置時，突然轉為中陰劍，繃敵之腕，
Once you have walked around B to the point that you have switched places with him, suddenly switch to a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] and do a flick toward his wrist.

乙帶腕避――
[5.9] B, do a dragging cut to A’s wrist, dodging away.

向左帶腕，避去敵劍，身體同時半向左轉，體重寄於右足。成左實右虛弓步。
Go to the left with a dragging cut to A’s wrist, evading his sword by turning your body halfway to the left as the weight shifts to your right [left] foot, making a bow stance of left foot full, right foot empty.

甲進步反格腕――
[5.10] A, advance and do an overturned block to B’s wrist.

左足速進一步，同時以中陰劍，劍尖斜向下方如提劍式，左手扶住右腕，用力自下向上反格敵腕。
As your left foot quickly advances a step, use a half passive [half active] grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] to point your sword tip diagonally downward, similar to the lifting posture, and with your left hand assisting at your right wrist, forcefully go upward from below with an overturned block to B’s wrist.

乙截腕――
[5.11] B, check to A’s wrist.

將右腕抬高，避去甲劍，從甲腕上繞過，用中陰劍截其腕，斯時體重移於右足，成右實左虛弓步。
Raise your right wrist up to avoid A’s sword, arcing over A’s wrist, then use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a [left] check toward his wrist. At this moment, the weight is shifting to your right foot to make a bow stance of right foot full, left foot empty.

甲上步截腕――
[5.12] A, step forward and check to B’s wrist.

速離開左手，將右腕往右一移避過乙劍，同時右足前進一步，成右實左虛步，截敵之腕。
Quickly spreading away your left hand, send your right wrist to the right to evade B’s sword and do a [left] check to his wrist as you advance your right foot a step, making a bow stance of right foot full, left foot empty.

乙抽身截腕――
[5.13] B, withdraw and check to A’s wrist.

略移右腕，同時抬腕，劍尖向下截敵右腕外方，兩足變左實右虛。
Slightly shift your right wrist back, at the same time raising it so your sword tip is angled downward, and do a [reverse] check to the outside of A’s right wrist, your feet switching to left foot full, right foot empty.

[photo for movements 5.12 & 5.13, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲壓腕（或作截腕）――
[5.14] A, press down B’s wrist (or check to his wrist).

將腕往左避開，同時將劍從敵腕上繞過，下壓敵腕，（用太陰劍若截則用中陰劍）斯時步法變為左實右虛。
Dodge your wrist to the left while arcing your sword over B’s wrist, then press down on his wrist. (If pressing, use a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left]. If checking, use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward].) [Since you just did a check and are already in that position, the press would seem to make more sense anyway.] At the same time, your stance switches to left foot full, right foot empty.

乙抽手截腕――
[5.15] B, withdraw your hand, then do a [left] check to A’s wrist.

仍如前式。
Same as before [movement 5.11].

甲帶腿――
[5.16] A, do a dragging cut to B’s leg.

斯時右腕旣被敵劍壓住，惟有趁勢從下往左帶敵之腿，同時體重移於左足，收回右足，移至左足前方半步，復趁勢刺敵之腰。
With your right wrist now being pressed [checked] by B’s sword, take advantage of the situation by going downward and to the left with a dragging cut to A’s leg, at the same time shifting your weight to your left foot and drawing in your right foot to be a half step in front of your left foot, then start to stab to B’s waist [which B beats you to by stabbing to your waist, and so your movement of raising your sword to stab will simply become the beginning of the action in movement in 5.18 of pulling your sword back].

乙刺腰――
[5.17] B, stab to A’s waist.

蹺起右足，避過敵劍，迅速起立，將右足移至左足前方半步，身半向左，右手以中陰劍刺敵之右腰。
Raise your right foot to evade A’s sword, briefly standing on one leg, then shift your right foot to be a half step in front of your left foot, your body turning halfway to the left as your right hand uses a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to stab to the right side of A’s waist.

甲抽腕――
[5.18] A, do a drawing cut to B’s wrist.

抬高其腕，一面避去敵劍，一面以太陰劍抽敵之腕，同時收回右足，向右前方移一步。
Raise your wrist as you evade A’s sword and use a full passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the left] to do a drawing cut to his wrist. At the same time, withdraw your right foot and shift a step to the forward right [right rear].

乙金鷄獨立刺胸――
[5.19] B, perform GOLDEN ROOSTER STANDS ON ONE LEG to stab to A’s chest.

右手往左一帶，避去敵劍，隨卽以中陰劍，直刺敵胸，並提起左足，全身重點，寄於右足，作金鷄獨立式。
Your right hand goes to the left with a dragging action to evade A’s sword, then uses a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab to his chest. At the same time, lift your left foot, the weight of your whole body shifted onto your right foot, making the posture of GOLDEN ROOSTER STANDS ON ONE LEG.

甲擊手――
[5.20] A, strike to B’s hand.

用太陽劍平擊敵之手指。
Using a full active grip [tiger’s mouth facing to the right], strike across [leftward] to B’s fingers [while your left foot steps behind your right foot and you make an empty stance].

[photo for movement 5.19 and the first part of movement 5.20, showing A on the left, B on the right]

甲乙各提劍保門，甲先提，乙隨之。
Both of you then make a lifting posture, A [B] lifting first, then B [A], then return to the guarding posture.

[photo for the second part of movement 5.20, showing A on the left, B on the right]

（上半完）。
(This completes the first part of Section Five.)

–

[SECTION FIVE – Part 2]

甲乙各作伏勢――
[5.21] Both of you, get into a crouching posture.

見前。
Same as before [movement 5.1].

乙上步刺胸――
[5.22] B, step forward and stab to A’s chest.

上右足，用中陰劍，直刺敵腹。甲上步平擊。
Step forward with your right foot as you use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab to A’s belly [chest]. A at the same time steps forward and strikes across [leftward, to B’s wrist].

對提――
[5.23] Both of you, make a lifting posture.

見前各式中。
Same as before [second part of movement 5.20].

[photo for movement 5.23, showing A on the left, B on the right]

對劈――
[5.24] Both of you, chop at each other.

用中陰劍直劈，取敵之左方，與以前各式中取敵之右方者不同。
Using a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward], chop with the blade vertical, this time seeking the opponent on his left side, different from the previous times [movements 1.15 & 2.11], which sought him on his right side.

對刺腹――
[5.25] Both of you, stab toward your opponent’s belly.

中陰劍直刺。
Use a half passive grip [tiger’s mouth facing upward] to do a vertical-blade stab.

甲反格腕――
[5.26] A, do an overturned block to B’s wrist.

中陰劍從敵腕下方反格。
Using a half passive [half active] grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward], do an overturned block under B’s wrist.

乙反帶腕――
[5.27] B, do a reverse drag to A’s wrist.

開左足，向左斜方上，全體向左傾，右手從敵腕上以中陽劍往左一帶。
Step out your left foot diagonally to the forward left [left rear] and lean your body to the left as you use a half active grip [tiger’s mouth facing downward] to do a dragging cut to the left along the top of A’s wrist [using the inner edge].

[photo for movement 5.26 & 5.27, showing B on the left, A on the right (reverse view)]

[The 1931 book uses this photo to illustrate an action of vertical-blade stabbing with the wrist turned over, akin to the stabbing action in movement 2.4, meaning that the overturned block should perhaps also have an intention of reaching forward.]

甲反腕帶――
[5.28] A, turn over your wrist and drag.

與第三路末式乙之動作同。
Same as B’s final movement in Section Three [movement 3.13, meaning that you turn over your sword and do a dragging cut on top of B’s wrist].

各轉身劈――
[5.29] Both of you, turn your body and chop.

雙手捧劍，劍尖向下，轉身向右，上左足，復轉身退右足，當轉身退右足時，趁勢將劍舉起劈下。各保門。
Hold your sword with both hands, the tip angled downward, then turn your body to the right as you step forward with your left foot and then continue turning your body as you retreat your right foot. As you are turning, [bringing your left foot forward,] and retreating your right foot, take advantage of the momentum of these actions by raising your sword and chopping down. Then return to the guarding posture. [The 1931 book then mentions that this is followed by a “closing posture”, but does not explain how it is to be performed. The safest bet is probably the very generic action of grabbing the sword in your left hand and lowering it to your left side so the sword is standing behind your arm, your right hand lowering with it and then circling to your right, up, and back down in front of you with the hand still formed as a spearing finger, pushing down in front of your belly.]

（完）共計三十式不同者十二式。
(This completes the whole of Section Five, which has a total of thirty [twenty-nine] movements and is comprised of twelve different techniques.)

–

[POSTSCRIPT]

武當劍法五路共百一十劍，其中不同者有六十劍，李芳宸先生所傳也。武林黃文叔為先生入室弟子，余從文叔遊，因得而私淑焉。憶龍年寓杭垣湧金門時，距文叔之西湖新宅不數里，晨夕過從，每當酒酣耳熱，輒相與起舞，意氣豪甚。顧此年衰病侵尋，置不復習，強半遺忘，甚矣余之惰而荒也。今春遇文叔於滬上，彼方以劍法授潘子時雨，傅子養德，徐子梅岐，且假余庭固為演練之場，於是向之遺忘者歷歷然復印諸心目，濡筆記之備他日復習之用，且以記此一段因緣云。
民國二十八年歲次已卯三月一日　易範齋主人子慕跋
The five sections of the Wudang Sword set have a total of a hundred and ten [hundred and nine] movements, comprised of sixty distinct techniques. It was taught by Li Fangchen [Jinglin]. Huang Wenshu [Yuanxiu] was his indoor disciple. I learned it from Huang because I had no opportunity to learn it from Li. I remember that in the last year of the dragon [1928] I was living in Hangzhou, near Yongjin Gate, not many miles from Huang’s new house at West Lake. We spent time together constantly, always drinking wine, exuberant in each other’s company, our spirits unrestrained.
　　But during this last year, I was gradually weakened by illness and ceased practicing what I had learned. I have now forgotten more than half of the set, so rusty have I become in my lethargy. This spring, I received Huang in Shanghai so that other students he had taught the sword set to – Pan Shiyu, Fu Yangde, and Xu Meiqi – could borrow the use of my courtyard as a practice space. Because of this, all I had forgotten was clearly restored, imprinted on my mind. I then made these notes of it so that I can have something to refer to when I start practicing again, and I here make a record of the event with these brief words.
　　- written with esteem by your student, Yi Fanzhai, 16th year of the cycle, 3rd month, 1st day [April 20, 1939]

–

LARGE SABER TECHNIQUES FOR THE ARMY

Posted on 13 Aprile 2018 by Paul Brennan

–

軍中大刀術
LARGE SABER TECHNIQUES FOR THE ARMY
順德黃漢勛編述
by Huang Hanxun [Wong Honfan] of Shunde
山東蓬萊羅光玉老師授
as taught by Luo Guangyu of Penglai, Shandong
演式者：黃漢超
postures performed by Huang Hanchao
攝影者：黃子英
photographed by Huang Ziying
校對者：韋漢生
text proofread by Wei Hansheng
[published 1955]

[translation by Paul Brennan, April, 2018]

–

軍中大刀術
Large Saber Techniques for the Army
黃漢勋署
– calligraphy by Huang Hanxun

–

序
PREFACE

斬馬刀者乃大鋒短柄而利於戰陣中之步兵武器，專砍馬蹄者，馬上兵將遇之而畏，固古戰場上之慣用兵械也。
曩自（古北）（喜峯）及（淞滬）以至（七七）（八一三）之戰役，吾國軍事當局鑑於新武器及機械俱落敵後，然以民族獨立生存而戰實義無反顧矣，於是乃以血肉組成長城，以維護我五千年文化歷史，我古代武器乃得及鋒而試，初試鋒刃即使敵望而生畏，所謂大和魂，武士道之精神，乃挫落千丈，嗣此即引起軍事當道之注意，尋且廣聘個中能手普及訓練師干，一時有風起雲湧之勢，吾師羅先生亦將范公秘技改編而成為簡單化，實用化之近代軍中大刀術，民二十七年秋「華僑歸國服務團」歸國經港，特走訪羅氏，願留港習此備用，先師亦慨然允之，後該團頗活躍於各戰區，因此羅氏大刀術之名乃不脛而遍走各地矣。今漢特編成冊本以廣流傳，及供有心人之研討，工拙固不計，祗求依法編釋耳！若對團體學校之訓練尤得器械健身之宏效，固不必上陣交鋒已也。因述之如上以為序焉。
The “horse-slashing saber”, which had a long blade and a short handle, was a useful weapon for infantry troops, designed for cleaving off the hooves of horses. Cavalry troops were struck with fear when they encountered it, and so it became a common weapon on ancient battlefields.
　　From battles like “Gubei” and “Xifeng” [Gubeikou Pass and Xifengkou Pass, during the Defense of the Great Wall (Jan–May, 1933)], as well as “Song Hu” [Battle of Shanghai (Aug–Nov, 1937)], to events such as “Seven Seven” [i.e. July 7, 1937 – Marco Polo Bridge Incident] and “Eight Thirteen” [i.e. Aug 13, 1937 – Second Shanghai Incident], our nation’s military authorities noticed that we were far behind the enemy in terms of modern weapons and machinery, but that our people’s only chance was nevertheless to stubbornly fight on. Therefore they had to rely on flesh and blood to fortify the Great Wall and defend our five thousand years of culture and history. Our ancient weapons were thus right tools at the right time. The very first cuts from those sharp blades struck terror into the enemy, plunging his spirit of “Yamato-damashii” or “Bushido” into a deep chasm. This caused our military leaders to give these weapons attention and they sought widely for experts to spread instruction throughout the army, an addition to training which rapidly became very popular.
　　My teacher Luo [Guangyu] took the secret skills of his teacher Fan [Xudong] and adapted them to construct this simple set, making an even more practical large saber set for the modern army. In the autumn of 1938, the Overseas Chinese Return-to-Enlist Corps were returning to the mainland. While passing through Hong Kong, they paid a special visit to Master Luo, wanting to stay for a time in Hong Kong to train in these skills. Luo generously consented to teach them, and then afterward they had to hurry off to their respective combat zones. Because of this, the fame of Luo’s large saber art quickly spread everywhere.
　　Now I have specially made this volume to spread this art even more widely and share it with those who have a desire to study it. To do this, I have ignored my own low level of skill at it, seeking only to explain these methods as faithfully as possible. If it is used for drilling large groups in schools, this is a greatly effective tool for developing physical fitness, though you will not actually be required to go into battle! I have recounted the information above merely to give some background to the set.

–

刀之説明
DIMENSIONS OF THE SABER

長度：由刀盤至刀鋒尖端，計長者二十寸，短者十八寸。
Length of the blade: From hilt to tip, it is as long as twenty inches or as short as eighteen inches.

濶度：上端：鋒與背計三寸。中段：二寸五分。下端：近刀盤處，一寸七分。
Width of the blade: From edge to back, the upper section is three inches, the middle section is two and a half inches, and the lower section near the hilt is one and seven tenths inches.

鋒薄而利，背厚四分，取其堅硬也。
The edge is very thin and sharp, whereas the back of the blade is a two fifths of an inch thick and is very hard.

盤：週圍計達十一寸，邊緣高二分。
The hilt has a circumference of eleven inches, and the height of its edge is about a fifth of an inch.

柄：長而微曲，直徑計長九寸五分。粗圍三寸二分。
The handle is long and somewhat curved, with a length of nine and a half inches, and a circumference of roughly three and a fifth inches.

如以人作計算則捧刀立正時刀鋒僅及肩部為最適合，逾此則或有矮人而善用長械，高人而喜用短械者是例外矣。
To determine if a saber is the right size for you, when you are in the position of standing at attention holding the saber, ideally the tip should reach to shoulder level. If it reaches farther than this, it will be like a long weapon for a short person, [and if does not reach that far,] it will be like a short weapon for a tall person. There are always exceptions to the standard.

–

古今之稱刀考
EXAMINING ANCIENT & MODERN VIEWS OF THE SABER

古之稱刀有五行，即金，木，水，火，土。進而別以，天，地，君，臣，師。
及至民國以後又更易為，天，地，國，親，師。
不論前者，後者俱逃不出（五）數。
茲根據少林眞傳所載及先師所言，是將刀平放作計則為刃之上端，即刀尖處是為「天」線。向下之刃鋒為「地」線。朝上之刀背為「君」線。護手之刀盤為「臣」線。柄之末端為「師」線。
Ancient people said that the saber has the five elements – metal, wood, water, fire, and earth – which was then extended to mean the sky and the ground, the sovereign and the subject, and the soldier. Once the Republic was established, “sovereign and subject” were changed to “the nation and the family”. Regardless of the former or latter interpretation, in either case the count is still five.
　　According to what is written in Authentic Shaolin Teachings [by Fan Xudong], as well as what has been said by my teacher, when you hold out the saber, holding it level in front of you, the top section of the tip of the blade corresponds to the sky, the edge facing downward corresponds to the ground, the back facing upward corresponds to the sovereign [or nation], the hilt guarding your hand corresponds to the subject [or family], and the handle all the way to its end point corresponds to the soldier.

–

軍中大刀術名稱
NAMES OF THE POSTURES

第一式：捧刀中平式
Posture 1: HOLDING THE SABER, STANDING STABLY
第二式：四平舉刀式
Posture 2: FOUR-LEVEL POSTURE, RAISING THE SABER
第三式：登山斬倭顱
Posture 3: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第四式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 4: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第五式：扑腿橫斬馬
Posture 5: REACHING LEG, SLASHING ACROSS AT THE HORSE
第六式：竄跳橫斬馬
Posture 6: EVASIVE HOP, SLASHING ACROSS AT THE HORSE
第七式：跨虎雙舉刀
Posture 7: SITTING-TIGER STANCE, BOTH HANDS RAISING THE SABER
第八式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 8: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第九式：旋轉坐盤刀
Posture 9: CIRCLING CHOP IN A SITTING TWISTED STANCE
第十式：纏繞斬倭顱
Posture 10: COILING AROUND, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第十一式：漏刀攔腰斬
Posture 11: WITHDRAWING SABER, SLASHING TO THE WAIST
第十二式：竄跳迎頭砍
Posture 12: EVASIVE HOP, CLEAVING STRAIGHT AHEAD
第十三式：竄跳迎頭砍
Posture 13: EVASIVE HOP, CLEAVING STRAIGHT AHEAD
第十四式：斜步舉刀式
Posture 14: DIAGONAL STEP, RAISING THE SABER
第十五式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 15: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第十六式：旋轉往上挑
Posture 16: TURNING OVER TO CARRY UPWARD
第十七式：反身坐盤刀
Posture 17: TURNING AROUND TO CHOP IN A SITTING TWISTED STANCE
第十八式：纏繞大轉勢
Posture 18: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE
第十九式：纔繞大轉勢
Posture 19: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE
第二十式：撤步迎頭斬
Posture 20: WITHDRAWING STEP, CHOPPING STRAIGHT AHEAD
第二十一式：挑刀蹤步劈
Posture 21: CARRYING SABER, LEAP & CHOP
第二十二式：挑刀蹤步劈
Posture 22: CARRYING SABER, LEAP & CHOP
第二十三式：跨虎橫撥刀
Posture 23: SITTING-TIGER STANCE, DEFLECTING ACROSS
第二十四式：反刀斬倭顱
Posture 24: REVERSE-SABER CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第二十五式：纏繞攔腰斬
Posture 25: COILING AROUND, SLASHING TO THE WAIST
第二十六式：斜步舉刀式
Posture 26: DIAGONAL STEP, RAISING THE SABER
第二十七式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 27: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD
第二十八式：纏繞大轉勢
Posture 28: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE
第二十九式：纏繞大轉勢
Posture 29: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE
第三十式：撤步迎頭砍
Posture 30: WITHDRAWING STEP, CLEAVING STRAIGHT AHEAD
第三十一式：四平舉刀式
Posture 31: FOUR-LEVEL POSTURE, RAISING THE SABER
第三十二式：收刀四平式
Posture 32: WITHDRAWING THE SABER, FOUR-LEVEL POSTURE

–

半匝試刀式　出匝看刀式
Photos demonstrating unsheathing the saber halfway and fully in order to examine it:

古之嗜武者多有所好於「寶刀」「寶劍」之習染，凡有良好寶劍之類俱把玩至不忍釋手者，當其小試其鋒刃時輒持鞘徐徐抽出察驗，俾判其刀種之良劣，余今效之者，實無異有東施效顰之誚，然旨在提倡吾國古武術，固無暇計此矣。
其全刀抽出察看者其意類於試刀，惟余之不厭求詳者，實寓有另一意思也。
一可使刀之寬長尺度得一全輪廓。
二可使鞘與刀之比量得一正確表示，實非看「寶刀」擺姿勢，徒作（奴婢扮夫人）之作態也。
Ancient people who were addicted to martial arts were often obsessed with “precious sabers” and “precious swords”. There were always those who loved their precious swords so much that once they held them, they could not bear to let them go. When they took a look at a blade, they held the scabbard and slowly drew out the weapon to examine it, in order to judge whether or not the saber was of good quality. As I perform this in these photos, it is a pale imitation of the way they did it, but as I am busy with promoting our nation’s ancient martial arts, I do not really have the time to be too finicky about how this looks.
　　The purpose of drawing out a saber fully is to examine it, but just to be clear, I have another intention here: 1. to give a sense of the length and width of the saber, and 2. to show a standard of measure between saber and scabbard. And so I am not really demonstrating a posture of swinging around a “precious saber”, which would just be a pretentious posing (like the maidservant dressing up as the madam).

–

持刀者：黃漢超　持棍者：黃漢勛
[Three demonstration photos] with Huang Hanchao holding the saber, Huang Hanxun holding the staff:

上圖：遇對方用長械殺落時即以逆刀反劏而上。
1. When an opponent uses a long weapon to smash down at me, I turn my saber over and go upward with a reverse slicing action [similar to Posture 16]:

中圖：對方用械橫掃我下路，我當以坐盤低攔式橫殺之。
2. The opponent then uses his weapon to sweep across to my lower body, so I use a low slashing in a sitting twisted stance to smash it aside [similar to Postures 5 and 6, though using a different stance]:

下圖：演式者之十字橫刀式。
3. The performer demonstrates CROSS-SHAPED POSTURE WITH THE SABER HORIZONTAL [As nothing resembling this occurs in the set, and would be an unlikely maneuver on the battlefield, this is perhaps intended as an example of posing.]:

–

第一式：捧刀中平式
Posture 1: HOLDING THE SABER, STANDING STABLY

說明
Explanation:
假定我擇西方作起點，是面南背北，左東右西而立正，右掌貼身直垂，右手虎口向下緊握近刀盤處，上刀鋒貼近於肩外，勿使搖動不定，否則易使自己有觸刀之弊矣，全身蓄勢目注前方使精神得以集中，以俟刀勢之展開也。
If you stand in the western part of the practice space to begin this boxing set, then you are facing to the south, the north behind you, the east to your left, the west to your right. Stand at attention with your right palm hanging down close to your body, your right [left] tiger’s mouth facing downward due to the hand tightly grasping near the saber hilt. The saber tip is close to the outside of your [left] shoulder, but do not allow it to sway around, or you may easily cut yourself. Your whole body is storing power, your gaze forward. Concentrate spirit in readiness to perform the saber techniques. [See photo 1:]

第二式：四平舉刀式
Posture 2: FOUR-LEVEL POSTURE, RAISING THE SABER

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先退左脚半步，右脚一拉俾成右跨虎步，右手向刀盤一握以替代左手之位置，而左手則緣刀柄向下而持末端，刀尖向上一舉，刀鋒向外東方，以右臂平線為合度，如第二圖。
Continuing from the previous posture, first your left foot retreats a half step, then your right foot pulls back to make a right sitting-tiger stance, as your right hand grabs the saber near the hilt, switching places with your left hand, which goes downward to hold the end of the saber handle, and the saber tip goes upward with a raising action, the saber edge facing outward to the east. Your right arm should be level. See photo 2:

功用
Application:
彼以長械如槍棍之類迎頭殺落，我即雙手舉刀向上一挑，斯乃中心之刀法，使來械滑落左右，來勢雖兇猛異常，至此亦落空矣。且可籍其落空而予以反擊，是彼造成有利之機會與我，非强而可行也，知乎此方足以言用械之奧妙矣。
An opponent uses a long weapon such as a spear or staff to smash down onto my head, so I use both hands to raise the saber upward with a carrying action, which is a core saber method, causing his weapon to slide off to either side. Even if his incoming force is extremely fierce, this technique will make it land on nothing, giving me the chance to counterattack. Thus because his action ends up causing me to have the advantage, I can act without having to struggle. From understanding just this one technique, you will know the profound usefulness of this weapon.

第三式：登山斬倭顱
Posture 3: MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING STANCE, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，右脚踏前以成右登山式，同時將刀向前畧斜往左北方殺出，亦以右臂平為合式，如第三圖。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot steps forward to make a right mountain-climbing stance as you send the saber slashing forward and slightly to the left, i.e. north. Your right arm should again be level. See photo 3:

功用
Application:
假如彼械為我上式斜落右方，我即進馬以近彼方，順刀斜撇其項部，此乃沿械削入之法也，勢速而致於要害為法之上乘也。蓋械長易佔優勢，惟鋒端為人所過則反見其弊矣，我刀旣卸落之，當以最迅速之法突入，勿輕失克敵致果之良機也。
If in the previous technique the opponent’s weapon falls to my right, I advance to get closer to him, hurling my saber diagonally at his neck with an action of scraping along his weapon. This is a rapid movement and is the best technique for causing injury. It is easy for a long weapon to occupy the superior position, but when a sharp blade comes into play, the opponent will discover he has been wounded. Once my saber has made him miss, I should use the quickest means of getting in and not lightly let a good opportunity to defeat the opponent pass by.

第四式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 4: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提起左後脚，再以刀背返後下方撥歸，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift up your left foot behind you while using the back of the saber to deflect downward and to the rear. See photo 4a:

再乘蹺起後脚之便全身躍前以成右登山步，刀再自下後方向前上方斜斜撇出，如「第四圖定式」。
Then go along with the momentum from lifting your foot by jumping forward with your whole body to make a right mountain-climbing stance, the saber going upward and hurling out diagonally forward. See photo 4b:

功用
Application:
彼以低樁沉械法向我膝部點落，我即以往後拖刀法消去來勢，再食其上路空虛之勢，用躍進法反刀向上再劈彼項部焉。
The opponent gets into a low stance, sinking his weapon, and stabs downward to my knee, so I send my saber to the rear with a dragging action to dispel his incoming force, then take advantage of the opening to his upper body by leaping forward, rolling my saber upward, and chopping to his neck.

第五式：扑腿橫斬馬
Posture 5: REACHING LEG, SLASHING ACROSS AT THE HORSE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先化右登山步為右扑腿，刀自上北方沿腿上削落往後南方力撇，如「第五圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, shift to a right reaching-leg stance as the saber goes from above in the north and forcefully swings downward to the south, cutting above and parallel with your leg. See photo 5:

功用
Application:
彼方側首避我劈項之刀我疾即漏刀揮殺其前鋒馬，使其有顧此失彼之危也。斯即射人先射馬，打人先打手之意，彼雖乘馬與我作戰，惟苟能予以創傷其脚部，其害尤甚於斬其乘騎也，抑亦為斬馬刀之本色，故時刻不忘傷害下之路也。
The opponent ducks his head away to evade saber chopping to his neck, so I quickly withdraw my saber and swing it down to slash to his front leg, causing him to be in the predicament of having too many things to deal with at once. This is the concept of “to shoot a man, first shoot his horse” [from the poem “Forward to the Frontier” by Du Fu] and similar to the notion of “to strike a man, first strike his hand”. Although the enemy may be riding a horse into battle against me, if I can injure its leg, this can do even more damage than slashing at its rider. This was the whole point of the “horse-slashing saber”, therefore keep in mind at all times the potential for injuring the opponent’s lower body.

第六式：竄跳橫斬馬
Posture 6: EVASIVE HOP, SLASHING ACROSS AT THE HORSE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提右脚如獨立式狀，將刀向上舉，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift your right foot as though making a one-legged stance, the saber raising up. See photo 6a:

再往後西方蹤身而返，約有步半之距離再成右扑腿式，刀由上斟斜撇過大腿之上，刀鋒向後南方着力，如「第六圖定式」。
Then your body leaps away about a half stride to the west to again make a right reaching-leg stance as the saber pours down from above with a diagonal swinging action over your leg, the saber tip moving toward the south behind you and expressing strength. See photo 6b:

功用
Application:
彼漏過我刀，即再擊我低躺之膝部，我乃提腿避之，再躍跳返身以刀劈向彼械，使毋再生變化也。
The opponent dodges my saber and then attacks below to my knee, so I lift my leg to evade it, leap my body away, and use my saber to chop at his weapon, causing him to not attempt such a maneuver again.

第七式：跨虎雙舉刀
Posture 7: SITTING-TIGER STANCE, BOTH HANDS RAISING THE SABER

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先拉起右脚以成右跨虎步，刀由橫下削法轉為朝上向：如「第七圖定式。」
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot pulls back to make a right sitting-tiger stance as the saber arcs from below to be pointing upward. See photo 7:

功用
Application:
彼以長械如槍棍之類迎頭殺落，我即雙手舉刀向上一挑，斯乃中心之刀法，使來械滑落左右，來勢雖兇猛異常，至此亦落空矣，且可籍其落空而予以反擊，是彼造成有利之機會與我，非强而可行也，知乎此方足以言用械之奧妙矣。
An opponent uses a long weapon such as a spear or staff to smash down onto my head, so I use both hands to raise the saber upward with a carrying action, which is a core saber method, causing his weapon to slide off to either side. Even if his incoming force is extremely fierce, this technique will make it land on nothing, giving me the chance to counterattack. Thus because his action ends up causing me to have the advantage, I can act without having to struggle. From understanding just this one technique, you will know the profound usefulness of this weapon.

第八式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 8: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

第九式：旋轉坐盤刀
Posture 9: CIRCLING CHOP IN A SITTING TWISTED STANCE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先原步不變，將高勢之刀反向下撩，使刀鋒向下朝，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, the saber turns over with a low raising cut, causing the saber tip to be facing downward. See photo 9a:

再將左脚自後偸前以成坐盤步，刀則由背往後方圈去，圈至手盡為止，再由上反劈而落，如「第九圖定式」。
Then your left foot goes forward from behind with a stealth step to make a sitting twisted stance, the saber circling out from behind your back until your hands are reaching out fully, chopping downward from above. See photo 9b:

功用
Application:
彼以械向我下部搶入，我即反刀背掠去來械，再偸入半步轉下刀為上刀迎頭劈之，旋轉然後劈刀者，乃寓有招之即打之雙重作用，旋轉而坐盤其勢乃順，坐盤而斬之是取其速也。
The opponent’s weapon sneaks an attack to my lower body, so I turn over my saber, using its back to swipe aside his weapon, then make a stealth step to come a half step forward while arcing my saber upward to chop to his head. This circling chop contains the effect of being twice as heavy as a normal chop. Going into a sitting twisted stance while doing this improves the flow of the technique and also increases its speed.

第十式：纒繞斬倭顱
Posture 10: COILING AROUND, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，將刀往後貼於左肩，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, send the saber behind you to be near your left shoulder. See photo 10a:

再循左轉，成一圈形步法，再上右脚以成右登山式，刀再由貼於肩部者向前斜斜劈去，如「第十圖定式」。
Then continue by spinning around to the left, making a complete circle with your stance, your right foot then going forward to make a right mountain-climbing stance as the saber chops out diagonally forward from your shoulder area. See photo 10b:

功用
Application:
纏繞者乃用資保護自身上部之刀法也，且可循此謀求對方之弱點，當發覺時更可籍此攻得彼之空隙也。
“Coiling” is a way to protect your own upper body which can then also follow through to reach a vulnerable area on the opponent, and so when you notice a gap in the midst of doing this technique, you can build upon this action in order to attack it.

第十一式：漏刀攔腰斬
Posture 11: WITHDRAWING SABER, SLASHING TO THE WAIST

說明
Explanation:
循上式，左右脚不變原來位置，祗將右脚一曲便可成為騎馬式，刀則由面前兜半圈形平刀殺過右後方，如「第十一圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, with your feet not leaving their location, you only need to bend your right [left] leg to make a horse-riding stance, the saber going from in front of you, arcing a half circle to go out level, slashing to the right rear. See photo 11:

功用
Application:
彼擬以械來招迎我斬項之刀，我俟其貼近時迅即漏刀橫殺其腰部，此攔腰斬法為刀法中之難招者也，抑亦為棍怕中平，刀怕擱腰具有同等之威脅，如不善於解此者，莫不為所砍殺矣，致力於此者幸留意焉。
The opponent tries to use his weapon to intercept my saber heading to his neck, so I wait for him to press in close, then quickly withdraw my saber and slash across to his waist. Among the saber techniques, the slashing to the waist is one of the more difficult to defend against. A saber slashing to the waist is a threat equal to a staff [spear] attacking to the center. Those who fail to understand this will end up being cut to pieces. For those who dedicate themselves to this art, I hope you will give this point attention.

第十二式：竄跳迎頭砍
Posture 12: EVASIVE HOP, CLEAVING STRAIGHT AHEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提右脚，再將刀往後提起，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift your right foot, lifting the saber behind you. See photo 12a:

再乘提步之勢跳往後西方約一步之遠仍為右登山式，刀自上方向前面正中砍落，如「第十二圖定式。
Then go along with the momentum from lifting your foot by hopping back, retreating about a full stride to the west, and again make a right mountain-climbing stance as the saber cleaves downward directly in front of you from above. See photo 12b:

功用
Application:
彼架去我攔腰法之後，隨即向我下路點進，我乃提步閃之，竄跳返身而用刀砍落其來械也。
After the opponent blocks away my slash to his waist, he immediately stabs forward to my lower body, so I lift my foot to evade it and hop away, then turn back toward him using my saber to cleave downward to his incoming weapon.

第十三式：竄跳迎頭砍
Posture 13: EVASIVE HOP, CLEAVING STRAIGHT AHEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式先提右脚，再將刀往後提起，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift your right foot, lifting the saber behind you. See photo 13a:

再乘提步之勢跳往後，西方約一步之遠仍為右登山式，刀自上方向前面正中砍落，如「第十三圖定式」。
Then go along with the momentum from lifting your foot by jumping back, retreating about a full stride to the west, and again make a right mountain-climbing stance as the saber cleaves downward directly in front of you from above. See photo 13b:

第十四式：斜步舉刀式
Posture 14: DIAGONAL STEP, RAISING THE SABER

說明
Explanation:
循上式，右脚自東方轉過南方以成右跨虎步，刀亦由東隨步轉南，自下向上挑起，如「十四圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot arcs across to the south from the east to make a right sitting-tiger stance, the saber at the same time arcing to the south from the east and carrying upward from below. See photo 14:

功用
Application:
當我連續作竄跳式時彼忽走我斜右方，以長械從頂殺下，我立即以挑刀作分式穿之，由正面相對而轉為斜方攻擊，若無穩捷之法應敵當易陷於危殆之境，步隨刀轉，使對方無隙可乘，若刀隨步轉則予敵以空間之便矣。
When I have not yet completed the technique continuing from the evasive hop, if the opponent suddenly evades to my right and is using a long weapon to smash down onto my head, I immediately use a carrying action to send it off to the side, piercing through his line of attack, turning a direct attack into an angled attack. Without both stability and agility, you will easily fall into a perilous situation. If your step is following your saber, it will prevent the opponent from having a gap to take advantage of, but if instead your saber is following your step, you will be giving him an opening to exploit.

第十五式：蹤步斬倭顱
Posture 15: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提左後脚，刀用背撥歸後方，如「過渡式」，
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift up your left foot behind you while using the back of the saber to deflect to the rear. See photo 15a:

再蹤身直跳往正南方，約有一步之遙乃再成右登山步，自斜劈前上方，如「第十五圖定式」。
Then your body leaps forward about a full stride to the south to again make a right mountain-climbing stance, the saber going upward and chopping diagonally forward. See photo 15b:

第十六式：旋轉往上挑
Posture 16: TURNING OVER TO CARRY UPWARD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先將原步不變，祗將刀反向後舉，鋒向後方如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, first only send the saber raising to the rear, the tip pointing toward the rear. See photo 16a:

再將左脚自後方偸前以成坐盤步，刀由後上方轉盡歸後，再從下逆劏上，至平為止如「第十六圖定式」。
Then your left foot goes forward from behind with a stealth step to make a sitting twisted stance, the saber going farther back and then going upward from below with a reverse slicing action, stopping when level. See photo 16b:

功用
Application:
彼欲以械來攔我劈項之勢，我即轉為反手逆劏直撩其襠下，逆劏者亦為刀法中之毒着，若非事先予以逆劏之便利，彼當不易以施展矣。
The opponent wants to send in his weapon to block my chop to his neck, so I turn over my hand and do a reverse slicing cut, raising to his crotch. “Reverse slicing” is one of the crueler techniques in the saber art, and unless you are set up with a good opportunity to do this, an opponent will not easily let you get away with it.

第十七式：反身坐盤刀
Posture 17: TURNING AROUND TO CHOP IN A SITTING TWISTED STANCE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，原步往後北方一擰仍成坐盤步，刀由逆劏而隨步劈過北方，如「第十七圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, twist your stance around to the north to make another sitting twisted stance, the saber going along with this movement by chopping to the north. See photo 17:

功用
Application:
彼乘我方注意於前南方之時，突自我後擊進，我為迅速其勢起見，亦不俟轉身易勢而步隨刀轉迎頭殺落，斯乃迅雷不及掩耳之法也。抑亦使彼難覓防禦對策，而為我所乘，用械者貴能神速，於此益證斯言不繆矣。
An opponent takes advantage of the moment that my attention is toward the south by suddenly advancing to attack me from behind. Quickly noticing this, I do not wait until I have turned around to change to a new posture, but instead let my feet follow along with my saber as I spin into a downward slash to his head. This is a situation of “the thunderclap gives no chance to cover one’s ears”, causing him to have difficulty finding a way to defend against it and giving me opportunity to follow up with another attack. Those who wield weapons emphasize being able to move with amazing speed, thus validating that these words are not exaggerations.

第十八：式纒繞大勢轉
Posture 18: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，刀先轉過左方貼於肘肩之間如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, the saber first goes across to the left to come near the area between your elbow and shoulder. See photo 18a:

再循左方轉動，全身抽起，當凌空時即轉為騎馬式，刀從左方伸出而平劈往東方，「如第十八圖定式」。
Then spin around to the left with your whole body leaping into the air, and make a horse-riding stance, the saber chopping across to the left to reach toward the east. See photo 18b:

功用
Application:
當多數敵人圍繞我四面八方時，我先將刀貼身者是先求自護，全身凌空抽起而更以橫刀劈殺者是對包圍者施行反擊也。
When there are many opponents encircling me, I first bring my saber close to my body to shield myself, then leap into the air while chopping across to counterattack my surrounding attackers.

第十九式：纒繞大轉勢
Posture 19: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先將刀由前轉後貼於左肩部，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, first send the saber arcing behind you to be near your left shoulder. See photo 19a:

再凌空抽起全身由面對北方者，轉而面對南方，仍為騎馬式，刀隨身轉，伸前撇出，如「第十九圖定式」。
Then jump into the air, your body turning from facing to the north to be facing to the south, again making a horse-riding stance, the saber going along with the turning of your body by swinging out forward. See photo 19b:

功用
Application:
當多數敵人圍繞我四面八方時，我先將刀貼身者是先求自護，全身凌空抽起而更以橫刀劈殺者是對包圍者施行反擊也，與上定具有左右前後，互相連繫之作用者也。
When there are many opponents encircling me, I first bring my saber close to my body to shield myself, then leap into the air while chopping across to counterattack my surrounding attackers. This posture links with the previous posture, and you thereby cover all directions – left and right, front and back.

第二十式：撤步迎頭砍
Posture 20: WITHDRAWING STEP, CHOPPING STRAIGHT AHEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，左脚從後撤退一步以成右登山式，刀由平撇轉而往後東方，自上直劈而落，如「第二十圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, your left foot retreats a step to make a right mountain-climbing stance as your saber arcs behind you to the east, chopping down from above. See photo 20:

功用
Application:
彼架去我攔腰法之後，隨即向我中下路點進，我乃退步躱之，竄跳返身而用刀砍落其來械也。
After the opponent blocks away my slash to his waist, he immediately stabs forward to my middle or lower body, so I retreat a step to evade it and hop away, then turn back toward him using my saber to cleave downward to his incoming weapon.

第二十一式：挑刀蹤步劈
Posture 21: CARRYING SABER, LEAP & CHOP

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提起左後脚，刀微微向上朝起，如「過渡式」，
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift up your left foot behind you, the saber slightly lifting to be pointing upward. See photo 21a:

再蹤身跳前約有一步，刀則自上直砍而落，如「第二十一圖定式」。
Then your body leaps forward about a full stride [to again make a right mountain-climbing stance], the saber cleaving downward from above. See photo 21b:

功用
Application:
彼械迎頭打我，我即用過渡式之刀往上向後挑開來械進而順勢直劈其顱，一挑一劈其勢至順，而用力亦易，且在躍進中其砍殺之銳有如大江之水順流而下，縱欲架攔亦為勢所不許矣。
The opponent’s weapon strikes straight at me, so I send my saber upward and to the rear to carry aside his weapon, then advance and chop straight to his head. With this technique of carrying continuing into chopping, it is already easy to express power. Add to that the leaping advance and the movement becomes like the downstream surge of water in a great river. He will want to block, but the nature of this technique will not let him.

第二十二式：挑刀蹤步劈
Posture 22: CARRYING SABER, LEAP & CHOP

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提起左後脚，刀微微向後朝起，如「過渡式，
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift up your left foot behind you, the saber slightly lifting to be pointing upward. See photo 22a:

再蹤身跳前約有一步之遙，仍為右登山步，刀則自上直砍而落，如「第二十一圖定式」。
Then your body leaps forward about a full stride to again make a right mountain-climbing stance, the saber cleaving downward from above. See photo 22b:

功用
Application:
彼械迎頭打我，我即用過渡式之刀往上向後掛開來械，再乘躍進之勢，直劈其顱，一挑一劈其勢至順，而發力亦易，且在躍進中其砍殺之銳，有如大江之水順流而下，縱欲架攔亦為勢所不許矣，其法與上式為相連者。
The opponent’s weapon strikes straight at me, so I send my saber upward and to the rear to hang aside his weapon, then leap forward and chop straight to his head. With this technique of carrying continuing into chopping, it is already easy to express power. Add to that the leaping advance and the movement becomes like the downstream surge of water in a great river. He will want block, but the nature of this technique will not let him. (This posture and the previous posture are linked together as a single flow.)

第二十三式：跨虎橫撥刀
Posture 23: SITTING-TIGER STANCE, DEFLECTING ACROSS

說明
Explanation:
循上式，將前脚拉起以成右跨虎步，刀則橫撥而歸向北方，如「二十三圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, pull in your front foot to make a right sitting-tiger stance, the saber deflecting across inward to the north. See photo 23:

功用
Application:
彼漏過吾械，即自我左方攻入，我先化登山為跨虎者是求遠離也，再以刀撥歸左方者則是將來械消去也。來械旣已消去，而吾所感受之威脅亦除，趁其勢，而順其械，使我有從容展開有利之攻擊矣。
The opponent evades my weapon and then attacks from my left, so I switch to a sitting-tiger stance to create some distance and use my saber to deflect inward to the left, sending away his weapon. Once I feel this threat has been removed, I could take advantage of the momentum and move further along with his weapon, thereby giving myself both more room to maneuver in the next moment and better targets to attack.

第二十四式：反刀斬倭顱
Posture 24: REVERSE-SABER CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，先將刀向頭頂橫攔，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, first send the saber blocking across toward your own head. See photo 24a:

再右前脚進左後脚以成左登山式，刀自頭上橫過左後方再轉過右前方平殺而出，刀鋒平過南方，如「第二十四圖定式』。
Then your right foot advances, followed by your left foot, making a left mountain-climbing stance, as the saber goes over your head across to the left rear and then arcs across with a slash to the forward right, the saber tip level as it passes through toward the south. See photo 24b:

功用
Application:
彼械為我所撥，乃轉過我右後方攻來，我先以刀橫掠之，再轉馬易勢，反刀橫劈其項部焉。
Once I have deflected the opponent’s weapon, he shifts around to attack from my right rear, so I first send my saber across to swipe it aside, then switch my stance and roll my saber over to chop across to his neck.

第二十五式：纒繞攔腰斬
Posture 25: COILING AROUND, SLASHING TO THE WAIST

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先進右脚以成騎馬式，刀貼於背部，然後隨步轉前，再向前平殺而出，如「第二十五圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot advances to make a horse-riding stance, the saber going [to the left,] close to your back, and then going along with your step by arcing forward with a level slashing. See photo 25:

功用
Application:
彼坐馬側首躱避我刀，我即進馬，刀自背後伸前攔腰斬之。或多人圍繞吾於垓心，我乃四面受敵矣，若不以先纏繞本身，勢必為衆所乘，我先求能掩護全身，然後全身旋轉，覓機突圍，斯為置諸於死後然後求生之法也。
The opponent lowers his stance and ducks his head away in order to evade my saber, so I advance and reach out my saber from behind my back with a slash to his waist. Or suppose there are many opponents encircling me in the midst of battle and I am exposed to attack from all sides. Unless I first coil around my body, they will all surge in upon me. So I first seek to be able to shield my whole body, and then I would be able spin around looking for a chance to break out of their encirclement. Such a situation is called “death is here and life is over there”.

第二十六式：斜步舉刀式
Posture 26: DIAGONAL STEP, RAISING THE SABER

說明
Explanation:
上式，先將右前脚移往正北方以成右跨虎之勢，刀從下向北舉起，如「第二十六圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, first your right foot shifts to the north to make a right sitting-tiger stance, the saber raising toward the north from below. See photo 26:

功用
Application:
當我連續作纏繞法時，彼忽走我斜左方，以長械從頂殺下，我立即以挑刀作分勢穿之，由正面相對而轉為斜方攻擊，若無穩捷之法應敵當易陷於危殆之境，步隨刀轉，使對方無隙可乘，若刀隨步轉則予敵以空間之便矣。
When I have not yet completed the technique continuing from coiling the saber, if the opponent suddenly evades to my left and is using a long weapon to smash down onto my head, I immediately use a carrying action to send it off to the side, piercing through his line of attack, turning a direct attack into an angled attack. Without both stability and agility, you will easily fall into a perilous situation. If your step is following your saber, it will prevent the opponent from having a gap to take advantage of, but if instead your saber is following your step, you will be giving him an opening to exploit.

第二十七式　跨步斬倭顱
Posture 27: LEAPING STEP, CUTTING OFF A JAPANESE HEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先提起左後脚，刀背往後拖返，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, first lift up your left foot behind you while using the back of the saber to drag to the rear. See photo 27a:

再蹤身直往以成右登山式，刀斜向前左方劈去，如「第二十七圖定式」。
Then your body leaps to the [north] to make a right mountain-climbing stance, the saber going diagonally forward with a chop to the left. See photo 27b:

第二十八式：纒繞大轉勢
Posture 28: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，先原步不變，將刀橫過左方，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, first the saber goes across to the left. See photo 28a:

再將左脚自後方倒進一步，以成面北背南之騎馬式，刀自背後劈向北方，如「二十八圖定式」。
Then your left foot shifts from behind you [and your right foot] advances a step to make a north-facing horse-riding stance, the saber chopping to the north [east] from behind your back. See photo 28b:

功用
Application:
當多數人圍繞我四面八方時，我先將刀貼身者是先求自護，全身凌空抽起而更以橫刀劈殺者是對包圍者施行反擊也。
When there are many opponents encircling me, I first bring my saber close to my body to shield myself, then leap into the air while chopping across to counterattack my surrounding attackers.

第二十九式：纒繞大轉勢
Posture 29: COILING AROUND IN A LARGE CIRCLE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，原步不變，先將刀橫過過左肩部，如「過渡式」
Continuing from the previous posture, with your stance not changing, first send your saber across, passing your left shoulder. See photo 29a:

再進右脚往西方，再成騎馬式，刀自背後伸前平殺往西方，如「二十九圖定式」。
Then your right foot advances to the west to make another horse-riding stance as your saber goes from behind you and extends forward with a level slash to the west. See photo 29b:

功用
Application:
當多數敵人圍繞我四面八方時，我先將刀貼身者是先求自護，全身凌空抽起而更以橫劈殺者是對包圍者施行反擊，與上式是具有左右前後，互相連繫之作用者也。
When there are many opponents encircling me, I first bring my saber close to my body to shield myself, then leap into the air while chopping across to counterattack my surrounding attackers. This posture links with the previous posture, and you thereby cover all directions – left and right, front and back.

第三十式：撤步迎頭砍
Posture 30: WITHDRAWING STEP, CHOPPING STRAIGHT AHEAD

說明
Explanation:
循上式，右脚從後方撤退一步，以成登山式，刀則順勢，劈落東方，如「第三十圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right [left] foot retreats a step to make a mountain-climbing stance, the saber going along with the movement by chopping down to the east. See photo 30:

功用
Application:
彼架去我攔腰法之後，隨即向我下路點進，我乃提步閃之，而用刀砍落其來械也。
After the opponent blocks away my slash to his waist, he immediately stabs forward to my lower body, so I lift my foot to evade it and use my saber to cleave downward to his incoming weapon.

第三十一式：四平舉刀式
Posture 31: FOUR-LEVEL POSTURE, RAISING THE SABER

說明
Explanation:
循上式，將右脚拉後，以成右跨虎步，同時將刀更向上朝起，如「第三十一圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot pulls back, making a right sitting-tiger stance, as the saber lifts to be pointing upward. See photo 31:

功用
Application:
彼以長械如槍棍之類迎頭殺落，我即雙手舉刀向上一挑，斯乃中心之刀法，使來械滑落左右，來勢雖兇猛異常，至此亦落空矣，且可藉其落空而予以反擊，是彼造成有利之機會與我，非强而可行也，知乎此方足以言用械之奧妙也。
An opponent uses a long weapon such as a spear or staff to smash down onto my head, so I use both hands to raise the saber upward with a carrying action, which is a core saber method, causing his weapon to slide off to either side. Even if his incoming force is extremely fierce, this technique will make it land on nothing, giving me the chance to counterattack. Thus because his action ends up causing me to have the advantage, I can act without having to struggle. From understanding just this one technique, you will know the profound usefulness of this weapon.

第三十二式：收刀四平式
Posture 32: WITHDRAWING THE SABER, FOUR-LEVEL POSTURE

說明
Explanation:
循上式，將右跨虎脚拍齊於左脚以成立正之勢，左手先離刀柄，易（虎口）向上者為向下，右手繼離開刀柄，而以左手替代之，再使刀貼於身傍垂下，右手化為掌，由下圈上，橫攔於頂上，如「第三二十圖定式」。
Continuing from the previous posture, your right foot stomps down next to your left foot, making a posture of standing at attention. Your left hand first lets go of the saber handle to switch its tiger’s mouth from facing upward to be facing downward, then your right hand lets go of the saber handle as your left hand takes its place. Then send the saber near the side of your body, hanging down, your right hand changing to a palm and circling upward from below to block higher than your head with the hand sideways. See photo 32:

至此則全刀已完，如是屬於表演者則將右手垂下，使左右手皆垂下，然後鞠躬為禮，便算完成一切矣。
This posture completes the whole set. If you are doing the set as a performance, continue by lowering your right hand so that both hands are hanging down and then bow ceremoniously, thereby bringing the set to a full conclusion.

– – –

[Included below is a related piece from Huang’s Notes on the Mantis Boxing Art (1949).]

漫談大刀隊
ON THE LARGE SABER UNITS

古式武器而見於近代戰場者，始於廿九軍宋哲元將軍，時宋部駐與古北口於日敵作殊死戰，宋鑒於敵强我弱，難得均衡之勢，思一顯古代雄風以挫强敵，乃廣徵名師担任授以特製之大刀，準備旣妥於雪夜摸進敵營，矮奴不虞有此竟被殺戳殆盡，嗣此中華武術震驚中外，淞滬戰起蔣蔡又仿之致用，頗奏膺功，日敵於衝鋒陷陣之間，一見刀光氣燄為奪，初則以鋼軟甲護頸部，繼則以東洋劍術相抗衡，然東洋雖以劍術自鳴為當代之雄，但與刀相抗亦無便宜之佔，蓋刀短而厚利於貼身相搏之際，劍長而薄，肉搏之間，頗嫌其不適於施用，且刀劍相碰長薄者當非短厚之實用，於是東洋自誇武士道之英雄，亦向吾中華武術俯首稱臣矣，自經此役之後，至抗戰軍興，中國軍隊多聘武術敎練担任訓練大刀之術，一則可作强身之運動，再則人負一刀於生死危難之俄頃又多一武器護身，時李白主桂省軍事乃廣徵名師負此責任，先由王軍長贊斌聘得同門學兄林伯叟、潘洪昌、于樂江、鄒喜功等，繼由王於李白前推荐羅老師出任總敎練，羅師怙靜成性弗願膺此，但林潘于鄒等以急於需用大刀術，乃懇請羅師傳授，羅師曰前人本無此術遺授，但淞滬之戰，余迫於急用，乃將斬馬刀之古法，在一夜之間，編成今之大刀術，余今亦以此授汝等而已，同時精武前輩盧君煒昌倡議，集合廣州各武師編大刀術一套，取名聯合大刀術，以余觀點而論聯合大刀頗嫌其繁複，難練，羅師所編出自一人心思，參以古法，精純而簡，全取實用法則，頗合訓練於軍人所需，時南洋抗敵義勇救國團歸國服役，道經香島特邀請羅師演解此術，後竟延期歸國，趕速學習斯法，計祗一週便告成功，該團臨別贈羅師錦旗一面，聊酬義務辛勞之意，近世科學昌明一顆之彈動輒可致數十萬人之死命，吾人生斯亂世寧不可怕哉。
The sight of ancient kinds of weapons being used on modern battlefields began with General Song Zheyuan of the 29th Corps [during the Defense of the Great Wall, Jan–May, 1933]. Song’s troops were positioned at the Gubeikou Pass [Xifengkou Pass], where they resisted the Japanese and were resolved to fight to the last man.
　　Song recognized that the enemy was strong and our forces were weak, and that it would be hard to fix the balance. After contemplating the problem, he realized that the old-fashioned idea of using a strong wind to defeat a powerful enemy was the way ahead. He then sought widely for famous masters to give instruction in the use of specially manufactured large sabers. Thus prepared, his troops crept into enemy encampments on a snowy night [Mar 11]. Those Japs had never anticipated such a situation and were almost wiped out. Because of this incident, Chinese martial arts astonished the nation and the world.
　　In the Battle of Shanghai [Aug–Nov, 1937], Jiang Jieshi [Chiang Kai-shek] and Cai Bingyan imitated this strategy to great effect. When their troops charged the Japanese, just the sight of the flashing blades and the fury that swung them demoralized the enemy. Though at first the fortitude of the enemy troops softened and they hid their heads, they then wielded their Japanese swords to contend against the sabers. But although the Japanese had proclaimed their sword art to be the best of its time, they could no longer so easily maintain that position when opposing these sabers. This is because our sabers are short and thick, ideal for fighting at close quarters, whereas their swords are long and thin, not as suitable for such a tight range. When sabers and swords clash, long and thin is not as practical as short and thick. Therefore Japan’s boasting about its heroic Bushido switched to bowing in submission to our Chinese martial arts.
　　With this battle done, the War had begun [1937–1945], and subsequently the Chinese army often employed martial arts instructors to train the troops in large saber techniques. For one thing, it was an exercise for strengthening the body. For another, a man who carried a saber on his back into perilous situations had a ready means of defending himself. The military in Guangxi Province was at that time presided over by Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi, who sought extensively for teachers to take on this duty. First the corps commander Wang Zanbin engaged his elder classmates Lin Bosou, Pan Hongchang, Yu Liaojiang, and Zou Xigong, and then he recommended to Li and Bai that Master Luo take the post of chief instructor.
　　Luo stayed quiet when it was offered to him, instinctively having no desire for such an honor. However, Lin, Pan, Yu, and Zou were anxious about the necessity for large saber techniques, and so they ardently requested of Master Luo that he give instruction. Luo then said: “Previous generations did not teach this art. But after the Battle of Shanghai, I see there is an urgent need.” He then took the ancient horse-slashing saber methods and in the course of a single night created this large saber set that I now teach to you all.
　　At the same time, Jingwu elder Lu Weichang proposed gathering various martial arts masters of Guangzhou to make a set of large saber techniques called “United Large Saber Techniques”. In my opinion, that set is too complicated and difficult to train, whereas what Luo made, a set built from the ideas of just one person drawing from ancient methods, is more refined and simple, the whole thing emphasizing practical methods, exactly what is needed for training soldiers.
　　Also at that time, the South Seas Resistance Volunteers of the “Rescue the Nation” Corps were returning to the mainland to enlist in the army. When passing through Hong Kong, they specially invited Luo to demonstrate this set. After seeing it, they decided to delay their return in order to quickly learn these techniques. In took just one week for them to absorb the training, and then before leaving they presented Luo with a banner to express thanks for his service and hard work, which said: “In our modern scientific age, little bitty bullets can send hundreds of thousands of men to their deaths. We live in troubled times, but we shall not be afraid.”

–

[For further information on the large saber, see the 1933 manuals of Jin Enzhong and Yin Yuzhang.]

–

Zhu Xiangqian in Italia, 5 – 17 Giugno 2018

Posted on 9 Aprile 2018 by 羞龍 Xiulong

Il maestro 朱向前 Zhu Xiangqian sarà in Italia dal 5 al 17 Giugno, e terrà lezione a Roma (5 Giugno), Altavilla (Vicenza 9 e 10 Giugno).

Sarà poi in Croazia (Pula 15, 16 e 17 Giugno).

Calendario seminari Zhu Xiangqian 2018

THE TAIJI MANUAL OF LONG ZIXIANG | Brennan Translation

Posted on 3 Aprile 2018 by Paul Brennan

THE TAIJI MANUAL OF LONG ZIXIANG Posted on March 30, 2018 by Paul Brennan – 太極拳學 A STUDY OF TAIJI BOXING 龍子祥 by Long Zixiang [published Jan, 1952] [translation by Paul Brennan, March, 2018] – 龍子祥先生著 by Long Zixiang:

太極拳學 A Study of Taiji Boxing 謝伯昌題 – calligraphy by Xie Bochang

Sorgente: THE TAIJI MANUAL OF LONG ZIXIANG | Brennan Translation

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Zhu Xiangqian in Italia, 5 – 17 Giugno 2018

THE TAIJI MANUAL OF LONG ZIXIANG | Brennan Translation