Handmade Skills_潞安府龙凤潞绸被

Store

HANDMADE SKILLS

The designers of Lu Silk primarily draw design elements and inspiration from the artistic styles of the Song and Ming dynasties, as well as from the collections of the Palace Museum. The process begins with conceptualization and hand-drawn sketches, which often undergo repeated revisions over approximately one year. Once finalized, the patterns are fully rendered and transferred to weaving technicians for jacquard weaving design.

The 2024 Fudan University admission letter features a cover that revitalizes the cloud patterns surrounding the dragon and phythoen from the Palace Museum's imperial stone ramp, reinterpreted by the artisans of Lu Silk. They first meticulously hand-sketch the stone carvings into a technical draft. Then, using steel needles, they puncture each hole one by one into kraft paper, creating a readable jacquard loom card.This process is akin to transforming the rigidity of stone into the pliability of silk. As the loom cards are mounted onto the jacquard loom, the silk threads from the Taihang Mountains awaken, interlacing warp and weft to weave raised, three-dimensional cloud patterns. The tangible warmth of history thus flows across the silk surface…

Exquisite
Decode

A 30cm x 40cm pattern requires the precise positioning of over 5,000 control points, with the margin of error for each point not exceeding 0.1 millimeters.Dynamic Balance: The structure employs a "three-heddle twill + weft-faced six-heddle jacquard" technique, ensuring both the three-dimensionality of the pattern and the drape of the fabric.Heaven-Human Resonance: While punching the cards, the artisan must simultaneously calculate the tension of the silk threads—much like a musician tuning strings—allowing the rhythm of the machinery to harmonize with the "breath" of the silk.

The wooden shuttle's first clear note against the jacquard loom unfolds 15,982 mulberry-bark pattern cards like a bronze bell chime, arrayed in the secret language of warp and weft—these symbols, subtly aligned with the universal numerology of the Book of Changes, are in fact frozen codes of time from the Ming and Qing weaving bureaus. As the artisan’s needle dances, silk threads surge into imagery: peonies bloom gradually over 15,982 sunrises and moonsets, while cloud patterns flow and extend with 15,982 breaths. The craftsmanship inscribed in the texture of this tribute silk, as recorded in the Artificers' Record, now resonates across six centuries with the light shuttles of the 21st century—compelling even the algorithms of robotic arms to bow in homage to the ancient "silk road equations." These 16,000 precise strikes spanning six hundred years resemble the lost cadence of Heavenly Creations, imprinting upon every inch of Lu Silk an indelible mark of timeless artisan spirit.

While ordinary quilts were still weaving the cycle of dawn and dusk through their warp and weft, the artisans of Lu Silk in 1969 were already etching stars onto 56,904 pattern cards—this was the silk epic of Chairman Mao Goes to Anyuan. Each frame of this masterpiece demanded six months of toil, swallowing the morning frost and night dew, to finally spin its splendor into being. These mulberry-paper cards, reminiscent of oracle bone inscriptions cast onto bronze vessels, yet also like a frozen fountain of time from movable type printing, built a rope bridge of civilization between the mechanical gears and the tender resilience of silk.

When the mulberry silk threads pass through the perforated pattern cards, they surge into waves upon the warp under the lifting of steel needles. The cast-iron jacquard looms of the 1960s share a bloodline with the wooden looms of their ancestors, their bronze-composite bones still vibrating with the lingering echoes of the ancient five-tone scale. The textile workers have shed their coarse aprons, yet their fingertips, caressing the silk strands, are imbued with the legacy of the Silkworm Goddess. As they raise their hands to guide the weft across the cast-iron loom, it is none other than Leizu, the legendary mother of sericulture, unfurling her wide sleeves amidst the bronze motifs of the Shang and Zhou dynasties.
The of Lu Silk was born from a triple-folded spacetime: Ming Dynasty artisans carved the grain of Taihang Mountain into wooden pattern plates; 1950s technicians translated these into perforated steel cards. Then, on a frosty night in 1968, Wang Xiulan, a nineteen-year-old loom operator, subtly slowed the rhythm of her shuttle throw. That unrecorded 0.3-second delay caused the weft threads to accumulate, creating a 0.07-millimeter raised effect atop the bronze bell-chime pattern. It was these breath-like imperfections that allowed the mechanically woven star chart to grow the texture of human warmth.
When modern dyers bend over their laboratory benches, test tubes have replaced the earthenware vats, yet they still carry the reverence of their ancestors. They deconstruct the glow of ancient paintings at a molecular level, transforming the hues of the Bian River, the brick-gray of the Rainbow Bridge, and the ochre-red of tavern banners from Along the River During the Qingming Festival into precise color codes. Azure and vermillion no longer depend on favorable weather, yet they still carry the soul of Taihang Mountain's rocks. In the dye bath, water repellents and dyes intertwine like yin and yang, tempered at high temperatures to achieve a colorfastness more enduring than love itself—is this not another form of "mordanting"? Using science as the medium, it allows the wisdom of the ancients and the dedication of today's artisans to unite as one within the warp and weft of silk.

Two female textile workers are working the night shift in the workshop

The seasoned dyer's wrinkles hold the secrets of plant-based dyes, while across the screen of a young engineer, spectral ripples dance. When digital color control replicates the celestial blues and greens of Emperor Huizong's Song Dynasty scrolls, a millennium of time suddenly collapses into a single piece of silk. This is not merely the revival of color, but a triumphant high-five across history, connecting countless hands through the ages. In the dye vats of Lu Silk, two kinds of flames forever churn: one is a reverence for the mountains, rivers, and all living plants; the other, a fervent hope for the beauty of our human world. Every immersion is a testament from the artisan's hand and heart—a stubborn act of preserving tenderness in an age of roaring machinery.

After being boiled to remove sericin, the silk from double cocoons stretches into translucent layers on bamboo bows. When sunlight filters through these delicate membranes, it casts an amber glow. Four artisans stand at each corner, their fingertips gently pulling the silk outward with the rhythmic grace of Tai Chi push hands...

The finished silk floss core rests like a cloud frozen in time, its surface shimmering with the subtle blue-green patina of aged bronze—a play of light and shadow born from forty layers of silk bathed in moonlight. To the touch, it does not simply yield, but offers a gentle, suspended support. Within its 0.03-millimeter filaments, a microscopic honeycomb maze takes form, weaving the body's warmth into countless hexagonal cyclones.

The patterns stretched over the patinated wooden embroidery frame tend to reveal their true nature at dusk. As the setting sun slants into the embroidery workshop by the Dan River, unfinished cloud motifs suddenly seem to flow across the silk. Speckles of light filtering through needle holes blend with the shadows of copper scissors, much like the palace lanterns of the Imperial Workshops a century ago, now illuminating the silver needles of today as they continue to weave the poetry of warp and weft.

Home

History

Philosophy

Craftsmanship

Products

Services

HANDMADE SKILLS

Exquisite
Decode

Home

History

Philosophy

Craftsmanship

Products

Services

HANDMADE SKILLS

Exquisite Decode

Exquisite
Decode