ANN/CHINA DAILY – In the collective tapestry of childhood memories, the image of a kite often occupies a cherished corner. Whether it’s the iconic diamond shape that graced countless skies or the fanciful figures of birds with wings vividly flapping, kites hold a universal allure.
Picture a serene spring day, perhaps amidst a rustic countryside, where families gather under the warming sun.
As the wind whispers its invitation, a scene unfolds: a child, eyes bright with anticipation, takes flight alongside their kite. With each gust, the flyer races, until the delicate creation catches the breeze and ascends, gracefully pirouetting among the clouds.
This timeless ritual, a fusion of simplicity and wonder, continues to enchant generations, offering a fleeting yet profound connection to both nature and nostalgia.
The kite that Yang Hongwei, 58, from Yangjiabu village in Shandong province’s Weifang, remembers, however, is slightly different. It was a gigantic dragon-headed centipede that stretched for 360 metres and took dozens of people to fly.
That was at the third Weifang International Kite Festival in 1986. To celebrate their village’s legacy of crafting kites, her grandfather, Yang Tongke, and uncle, Yang Qimin — both master kite-makers — boldly envisioned and created a model 10 times bigger than any they’d ever made.
Weifang is renowned as the “world capital of kites”, and Yangjiabu village has long remained at the heart of local production.
Yang Hongwei, who was born to a family of artisan kite-makers in the village, became a national-level representative inheritor of Weifang kite-making techniques this year.
“Here in Weifang, we have a saying, ‘there’s nothing you can think of that can’t fly’. We have the ideal wind conditions, and so many kite lovers, top-notch artisans and different kinds of handmade kites,” she says.
Yangjiabu is small enough to qualify as a village, yet is home to two national-level intangible cultural heritage items — kites and Yangjiabu New Year pictures, a type of traditional woodblock printing used to decorate people’s homes during Spring Festival.
Both art forms emerged in Yangjiabu in the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) and prospered in the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).
“Our kites’ decorations draw inspiration from the New Year pictures, so each one carries its own story and auspicious connotations,” Yang Hongwei says.
She brought a variety of representative Weifang kites to the recent 37th International Kite Festival in Berck-sur-Mer, France, including a dragon-headed centipede kite with images of 100 children, which are often depicted as the subjects of local New Year pictures.
The kite features a dragon head with a body and tail fashioned from around 50 discs, each of which is hand-painted with images of children, carrying wishes for longevity, wealth, prosperity and other blessings.
“Throughout history, kites have been close to people’s daily lives and influenced by folk traditions,” says Ma Zhiyao, a professor at Tianjin University who specialises in folklore and intangible cultural heritage.
“They have not only become embedded in folk culture but also provided entertainment and physical activity. This heritage has been passed down, demonstrating the enduring vitality of Chinese civilisation.”
Kites’ origins can be traced back to the late Spring and Autumn Period (770-476 BC), with historical accounts attributing their invention to the philosopher Mozi, who spent three years crafting a wooden hawk, which is considered a prototype for today’s kites.
Later, master carpenter and engineer Lu Ban made improvements by substituting wood with bamboo.
Kites are considered one of the earliest forms of aircraft. Ancient books recorded their functions in aerial reconnaissance and transmitting military intelligence.
During the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220), inventor Cai Lun improved papermaking techniques, leading to the invention of “paper hawks”, which resembled kites as we know them today.
“Kites’ origins reveal the remarkable ability and creativity of ancient Chinese to imitate nature and explore its mysteries,” Ma says.
“They observed birds and thought of using wood and paper to make objects that could soar in the sky. They were driven by curiosity and a spirit of scientific exploration to understand and harness the power of wind.”
During the Tang Dynasty (618-907), the relative stability and prosperity made paper more affordable, and kites truly became part of people’s lives.
As kite-making techniques became more refined, varieties adorned with imagery and produced sound effects were developed.
This period gradually also saw kite flying becoming a custom during festivals. Late Tang-era poet Luo Yin wrote a poem about kite flying on the Cold Food Festival, which then fell directly before the springtime Tomb Sweeping Day and was later merged with it.
The custom was popularised in the Song Dynasty (960-1279). By the Ming and Qing dynasties, significant progress was continuing in design, style, production, decoration and flying skills.
“Many literati liked to make silk kites as gifts for their families and friends. They’d carefully select refined materials and then paint the silk cover by hand. These kites were exquisite and lasting,” Ma says.
Novel development
One of history’s most famous kite lovers is Cao Xueqin, a literary giant of the Qing Dynasty who wrote the seminal novel, Dream of the Red Chamber. In the book, kite flying was portrayed as a pastime of the genteel protagonist family and was also used as metaphors for the characters’ destinies.
In the book’s 70th chapter, a main character suggests kite flying to “let go of bad luck” — a belief traditionally associated with kites.
“In the past, when it came to Cold Food Festival and Tomb Sweeping Day, kite flying was considered a key custom,” Ma explains.
“After making sacrifices to ancestors, people would fly kites, which on one hand expresses thoughts about family members and on the other lets go of all unhappiness and ill omens.”
And on Dragon Boat Festival, which was traditionally believed to be the most poisonous day of the year — with mosquitoes and flies breeding in large numbers, as well as various bacteria multiplying in summer — people would fly kites, representing the shaking off of misfortune, so that family members could live long and healthy lives, Ma adds.
Cao wrote another book in his later years that compiled the kite-making techniques of both southern and northern China, recording the skills of kite making and flying, using mnemonic rhymes and illustrations to help readers understand and remember these techniques.
“When Cao wrote the book, his main wish was to help people with disabilities or otherwise struggling financially to acquire a skill, so they could support themselves,” says Miao Bogang, 43, a representative inheritor of “Cao’s kites”.
The book, however, was only privately collected and withdrawn from circulation until 1943, when Kong Xiangze, who was then a student of painting and sculpture, was assigned by his teacher to transcribe a borrowed manuscript, which turned out to be Cao’s work on kites.
Due to time limits, Kong only managed to make records of 14 of the 43 varieties in the book, and later spent decades working on restoring and refining these techniques, which he named “Cao’s kites”.
Miao was a kite-making enthusiast in his teenage years and was introduced to Kong Lingmin, son of Kong Xiangze and an inheritor of “Cao’s kites”, who recognised Miao’s talent and diligence, and took him in as an apprentice.
“I’ve followed him in studying ‘Cao’s kites’ for more than 20 years, during which time I’ve come to truly understand the techniques for making, and the principles of flying, kites, as well as Cao’s humanitarian spirit when he wrote this book,” Miao says.
“Both masters (Kong Xiangze and Kong Lingmin) told me: Skills belong to individuals; culture belongs to societies. So, we as inheritors have been focusing on passing down kite-making techniques and sharing this culture with as many people as possible.”
