White Copper Zhong Kui Relief Square Tag

Zhong Kui’s picture has outlasted his story. Tang-era colophons say he sat the military examination, failed it, and dashed his head against the palace steps; later he appears in Emperor Ming’s dream to catch a small ghost that had been plaguing the palace, and Song notebooks copied the tale down. The New Year print and the door god fixed the look from there: black face, curling beard, battered hat, one hand flat on a sword. Painters held that the dignity needed a third of the scholar about it — pure ferocity and you have painted a ghost instead of a judge.

A square plaque takes relief better than a round one. On a round plaque the picture has to be cropped along the curve, and figures lose hands and feet at the rim; a square has four corners that hold their ground, so the hat wings, the sleeve, the boots can each be laid out. The relief does not need height. A polished face against shadow in the hollows is enough to build the layers, and cast white copper is hard enough that fine lines do not slump, which is why the hairs of that beard can stand one by one. Raise the carving and the back of the plaque thins, and a thin plaque digs into the chest. That is the thing to avoid.

White and yellow are two different tempers. White copper runs silver-white and cold, and looks clean against a dark coat; the yellow version sits close to old bronze, warm, and asks for cotton, linen, camel. On sallow skin the yellow tends to blend in while the white lifts it — not a rule, and the counter is the place to settle it by holding both up. Under a lamp the two are hard to tell apart, so step into the doorway and look in daylight. Left alone, white copper turns a little warm yellow. That is oxidation, not plating wearing through.

Pendant and necklace differ by one chain. The pendant is the plaque alone, and you find your own cord or chain, which means you can change it later; the necklace comes strung, and you wear it out of the box. A square plaque has four corners, and the edges are rounded so they will not catch a sweater, but under a winter turtleneck the face will press a square mark into you. Nothing to be done about that. On a thin neck, keep the chain short so the plaque sits above the collarbone, where it will not flip. Waxed cord or leather holds the square’s hardness better than a metal chain, and a lobster clasp outlasts a spring clasp.

The subject needs saying plainly. In folk custom Zhong Kui is the figure hung on the lintel at the end of the year, out of the old exorcism rites, and he is not on the same track as the god of wealth. For a friend opening a shop, “he holds the room” is a more fitting line than “he brings money”; for an elder, the theme of Zhong Kui marrying off his sister carries a bit of joy, and that is also a good thing to say. A slip of paper in the box naming the source saves you half an explanation at the door. Some people find the face fierce — that is unfamiliarity, nothing more. In some places his birthday falls at the Dragon Boat Festival, in others at year’s end. Ask before you give one.