Shanghai Museum 上海博物馆

Welcome to the Ancient Chinese Bronze Gallery at the Shanghai Museum. This gallery is located on the 1st floor, covers 1,200 square meters, and displays more than 400 bronze masterpieces. It traces 1,500 years of Chinese bronze art from the 21st century BC to the 3rd century BC. The displays are arranged in six sections — the formative period, the developmental period, the golden age, the transitional period, the renewal period, and bronzes from outlying regions — walking you through the entire "coming-of-age story" of Chinese bronzeware.

The object in the standalone case straight ahead of you is the gallery's crown jewel — the Da Ke Ding. Take a closer look at the inner wall of the vessel: it is inscribed with 290 characters, making it one of the longest inscriptions found on any Western Zhou bronze. The text records a nobleman named Ke receiving a grant of land from the king. How big is this thing? It stands 93.1 centimeters tall and weighs 201.5 kilograms — roughly the weight of a full-grown adult. The Da Ke Ding is permanently banned from traveling overseas, so this is the only place in the world you can see it in person. It is counted alongside the Da Yu Ding at the National Museum of China in Beijing and the Mao Gong Ding at the National Palace Museum in Taipei as the "Three Great Treasures of the Land" — which tells you everything about its status. For photos, try pressing your phone lens right against the glass — it cuts the glare and makes the inscription remarkably sharp. For a shot of the full vessel, step around to the 45-degree angle at the side of the case — you avoid the crowd and capture the whole thing.

The flat, square bronze object beside it is the Shang Yang Square Measure. It may not look like much, but its history is extraordinary. This is a standard measuring vessel made in 344 BC during Shang Yang's reforms, and its surface carries inscriptions from several different hands — one by Shang Yang himself, one added when Qin Shi Huang unified the empire, and later additions still — making it a living archive that witnessed the entire process by which the Qin dynasty standardized weights and measures. The Da Ke Ding represents ritual order; the Shang Yang Square Measure represents institutional reform — together, they embody the two great pillars of Chinese bronze civilization.

Continue ahead into the Shang dynasty section. Notice the pig-shaped you wine vessel — it's round and plump, like a piggy bank, but it was actually a Shang wine container. The idea that people 3,000 years ago used such charming objects to hold their wine is rather delightful. The four-ram-head vase beside it is also remarkable: four ram heads are cast onto its shoulders, with curved horns rendered with striking realism, revealing just how vivid the Shang craftsmen's imagination and technical skill could be.

Further ahead is the Spring and Autumn and Warring States section — make sure you see the Xi Zun. This is a cattle-shaped ritual wine vessel with a fluid, lifelike form, and its decoration uses the gold-and-silver inlay technique — fine threads of gold and silver pressed into grooves in the bronze surface. After more than 2,000 years it still catches the light. The openwork serpent-and-dragon drum stand nearby is covered in seven dense layers of coiling serpent patterns, intricate enough to make your head spin — proof that by the Spring and Autumn period, bronze casting had reached an almost virtuosic level of refinement.

In the outlying regions bronze section, you'll find storage vessels from the ancient Dian Kingdom in Yunnan and animal-motif belt plaques from the northern steppes — styles that are utterly different from the Central Plains tradition, demonstrating that bronze civilization was not centered in one place but was genuinely diverse. The final area, "Smelting and Casting of Chinese Bronzes," uses actual objects and diagrams to show the full process from ore to finished vessel. How did ancient people turn a pile of copper ore into a ding this magnificent? After this section, you'll understand.

Photography tips: The bronze gallery is dimly lit and the display cases can create glare. When photographing with your phone, get the lens as close to the glass as possible. The Da Ke Ding draws the biggest crowds — consider visiting at off-peak hours. The gold-and-silver inlay patterns on the Xi Zun look best in raking light; try crouching down and shooting from the side. Plan to spend about 40 minutes in this gallery.

Walking through the Bronze Gallery, we arrive at the Ancient Chinese Sculpture Gallery. This gallery covers 640 square meters and displays more than 120 sculptural works spanning nearly 2,000 years, from the Warring States period through the Ming dynasty. Does the atmosphere feel different the moment you step in? That's by design. The gallery uses gold, red, and black as its dominant colors, with partitions shaped as lotus petals and wall niches modeled on cave-temple shrines — stepping inside feels like entering a rock-cut sanctuary.

The defining characteristic of the Sculpture Gallery is that Buddhist statuary accounts for around 80 percent of the exhibits, with stone carvings predominating. Look to the right at the group of Northern Wei stone Buddha heads — slender-faced, wearing a faint smile. This is the classic "slender-bones, refined-features" style. Buddhism had arrived from India not long before the Northern Wei period, but it had already been completely assimilated into Chinese aesthetics: the robes became Chinese-style drapery, and the faces took on Chinese features. Pay attention to that smile — it isn't an open grin, but a serene inward expression that Buddhism calls the "compassionate countenance."

Now look across at the Northern Qi Buddha. The face is full and rounded, the drapery clings to the body — a striking contrast to the slender Northern Wei style. Northern Qi figures have a particular quality of roundness: round face, round shoulders, round body. They project a sense of solidity and ease. From the "slender" Northern Wei to the "rounded" Northern Qi, the style shifted dramatically in just a few decades, reflecting a change in taste and the deepening of Buddhism's Chinese transformation.

Moving into the Sui and Tang section, these are the most confident and fully realized figures in the gallery. With the Tang dynasty's great national power, the statues followed suit and became "grand" — full-bodied, with fluid drapery and expressions that blend solemnity with poise. Look at the Tang bodhisattva figure with its slight sideways tilt — it has been called the "Eastern Venus," and it possesses a quality of reserved inner depth that Western counterparts lack.

This gallery has one particularly charming group of objects — the Tang dynasty zodiac tomb figures. Count them: there are exactly twelve, each with a human body and an animal head — the Rat, the Ox, the Tiger, the Rabbit, all present. This is a rare complete set discovered together, showing that the veneration of zodiac animals in the Tang dynasty is directly continuous with the "birth year sign" culture we have today. Find the figure that matches your birth year and take a photo with it — it's a fun moment. The twelve-animal cycle is one of the most accessible elements of Chinese culture, and people were already observing it 2,000 years ago.

The second half of the gallery focuses on Song and Yuan sculpture, where the style shifts from the religious toward the secular. Look at the painted Song dynasty clay figures — the expressions are vivid and naturalistic, like real people rather than elevated deities. This reflects how Buddhism became increasingly humanized after the Song dynasty.

Photography tips: The cave-niche design of the gallery is itself a work of art. Try standing at the gallery entrance with a wide-angle lens and shooting inward — you'll capture a stone-cave-like sense of depth. For facial details on the Buddha figures, use telephoto or zoom, and shoot in raking light for the best contours. The zodiac figure cases are fairly low — crouch down and shoot at eye level for the most expressive results. Plan to spend about 20 minutes in this gallery.

Heading up to the 2nd floor brings us to the largest permanent gallery in the Shanghai Museum — the Ancient Chinese Ceramics Gallery. This gallery covers 1,300 square meters and displays more than 500 ceramic masterpieces, from Neolithic earthenware of 8,000 years ago all the way to Qing dynasty imperial kilns — a complete narrative of "the myth of earth and fire." Notice how the displays are arranged like a time tunnel: Neolithic earthenware → Shang and Zhou proto-porcelain → Tang sancai → Song and Yuan name kilns → Ming and Qing Jingdezhen. Walking the full circuit is like surveying 8,000 years of Chinese ceramic history.

At the entrance, start with the Neolithic ceramics. The red-earthenware bag-footed gui vessel is a typical Liangzhu culture piece: three plump balloon-like feet support a body with a flared rim, rather like a small animal holding its head high. People 5,000 years ago cooked and boiled water in vessels like this, and the bag-foot design increased the surface area exposed to heat. Ancient people had already thought about thermal efficiency — a design sensibility that holds up perfectly well today.

Moving ahead to the Tang sancai section. Three-color horses and three-color camels are the most iconic pieces — brilliantly colored, powerfully modeled. Tang sancai is not porcelain; it is low-fired lead-glazed earthenware. "Three-color" does not mean only three colors — it means "multicolored." Look at that sancai horse: full muscles, head raised as if neighing. The confidence and openness of the great Tang empire are written all over that animal.

The small dish in the standalone case directly ahead is a Northern Song Ru-ware sky-blue glazed dish. You might think, "it's just a dish, what's the big deal?" Ru ware is the foremost of the Five Great Song Kilns. Fewer than 90 genuine pieces survive worldwide, and every one is priceless. Its sky-blue color is its signature — said to be inspired by the phrase from Emperor Huizong's dream: "blue as the sky after rain breaks through the clouds." Look closely: the glaze surface is covered in fine crackle lines called "open crackle," which began as a firing defect but became the aesthetic hallmark of Ru ware. This ability to transform a flaw into a source of beauty is the essence of the Song dynasty sensibility at its finest.

Continuing ahead to the Song and Yuan name kilns section. Each of the Five Great Kilns has its own character: Ru ware's sky-blue; Guan ware's purple mouth and iron foot; Ge ware's "gold wire and iron thread" crackle; Ding ware's white porcelain with incised decoration; Jun ware's kaleidoscopic kiln transformations. Look at the Jun-ware sky-blue glazed dish with purple splashes — a natural flow of purple spreads across the blue glaze, the result of an uncontrolled kiln transformation. Two pieces from the same kiln can come out looking completely different. The saying goes: "enter the kiln one color, leave the kiln ten thousand colors."

The Ming and Qing imperial kiln section is where the heavyweights are concentrated. Xuande cobalt blue, Chenghua doucai, Kangxi peachbloom red, Yongzheng famille rose — each dynasty had its signature style. Look at the Yongzheng famille rose olive-shaped vase: its form is slender and refined, the rose enamel colors as soft as jade. Yongzheng porcelain is renowned for being "precise, elegant, and delicate," and this piece is the epitome of those qualities. Then look at the Kangxi peachbloom red willow-leaf bottle — the red is not a full red but a soft pinkish tone, like the color of a cowpea pod (which is exactly why it's called peachbloom or "cowpea red"). And then there is the Chenghua doucai chicken cup — a wine cup from the reign of Emperor Chenghua, painted with a mother hen and chicks foraging in a garden. The style is charmingly naive. In 2014, one of these cups sold at auction for 280 million Hong Kong dollars — one of the most expensive cups in the world.

The final section is a reconstruction of a porcelain workshop and kiln, using models to show the full process from clay preparation and wheel-throwing to glazing and firing. Consider that a piece of blue-and-white porcelain goes through 72 separate steps from raw clay to finished object — each one must be done correctly. That is why Chinese porcelain led the world for a thousand years.

Photography tips: The ceramics gallery has warm lighting, and when photographing monochrome glazed pieces, try reducing your phone's exposure by one stop to avoid blowing out the glaze. The Ru-ware dish is small — use macro mode pressed close to the glass to capture the crackle in fine detail. The sancai horse and the chicken cup are popular photo subjects — consider coming at off-peak hours. Plan to spend about 40 minutes in this gallery.

The first gallery on the 3rd floor is the Chinese Calligraphy Gallery — 600 square meters, around 60 masterworks on display. Don't be misled by the smaller number of pieces; every single one is textbook-level. From seal script to clerical script, from regular script to running and cursive styles, 3,000 years of Chinese calligraphy's evolution are all here.

Start with the seal script works near the entrance. Seal script is the oldest script form — the bronze inscriptions on ritual vessels are its direct ancestor. Look at the lines in those characters: uniform in thickness, smoothly rounded, almost like drawn patterns. The word for seal script in Chinese literally means "to elongate," and each stroke is drawn out, curved, and looped. Writing it is slow, but it has a stately beauty — which is why seal script is still used for personal seals today.

Moving ahead to the clerical script section. Clerical script was simplified from seal script during the Qin and Han dynasties, replacing seal script's rounded curves with angular strokes and making writing considerably faster. Notice the defining feature of clerical script: the "silkworm head and swallow tail." The beginning of each major stroke is full and round like a silkworm's head; the end flares upward like a swallow's tail. Han dynasty government documents were all written in clerical script — it marked the moment when Chinese characters moved from "pattern" to "writing."

The Jin and Tang section is the heart of the gallery. In the central case is Mi Fu's "Duojing Lou Shice" from the Northern Song dynasty. Mi Fu was one of the "Four Masters of the Song," and his running script moves with the freedom of wind. Notice how he writes — not stroke by careful stroke, but with alternating fast and slow passages, varying the pressure at will. He called his own method "brush-swiping": where others "wrote," he "swiped." Mi Fu was also famously eccentric — he was so obsessed with unusual rocks that he would bow to them and address them as "Elder Brother Stone." His behavior was outlandish, but his calligraphy was brilliant. A thousand years later, who cares how odd he was?

Next to it is a Song-dynasty rubbing of Zhang Xu's "Langguan Stone Pillar Inscription Preface" from the Tang dynasty. Zhang Xu was the "Sage of Cursive Script," famous for his wild, unrestrained style — legend has it he wrote his best cursive after drinking himself into a stupor, shouting as he dashed across the paper. Yet this piece is in regular script, perfectly controlled and disciplined. Even the "Sage of Cursive" wrote impeccable regular script — the mark of a true master who could "follow the heart's desire without transgressing the rules." This is a Song-dynasty rubbing from the collection of the calligrapher Wu Hufan, and it lets us see the quality of Song-era rubbing-making firsthand.

Further ahead is Emperor Gaozong of the Southern Song dynasty's "Yangsheng Lun," written in both regular and cursive script together. Emperor Gaozong, who founded the Southern Song dynasty, had formidable calligraphic skill. The piece bears the seal "De Shou Yu Shu," marking it as an item of imperial provenance. A ruler writing an essay on cultivating one's health and longevity — the text was by the celebrated scholar Ji Kang — shows that even a Southern Song emperor entertained thoughts of retiring gracefully and taking care of himself.

In the Ming and Qing section, Zhu Yunming's "Cursive Script: Wu Yun Qiu Ge Juan" is worth seeking out. Zhu Yunming, also known as Zhu Zhishan, was one of the "Four Talents of Wu" — and his cursive is as wildly free-spirited as his personality. The Qing section features calligraphy by Zhao Zhiqian, a representative of the late-Qing stele-learning (beixue) movement, who fused the powerful brushwork of Northern Wei cliff inscriptions into his running script, creating a new direction in the art.

Photography tips: Calligraphy pieces are mounted flat in horizontal cases. Shoot from directly above with your phone parallel to the glass for the most accurate image of the characters. If your hand tends to shake, rest your elbow on the edge of the case to steady yourself. Painting and calligraphy exhibits rotate every three months — because paper and silk are sensitive to light — so what you see on one visit may be different from the next. Plan to spend about 25 minutes in this gallery.

Right next to the Calligraphy Gallery is the Chinese Painting Gallery — 1,200 square meters, more than 120 masterworks spanning from the Tang and Song dynasties through the late Qing, over a thousand years of painting tradition. The Painting Gallery is one of the most popular galleries in the Shanghai Museum, because Chinese people have a particularly deep emotional connection to painting. "Calligraphy and painting share the same source" — the two arts grew from the same root.

Start with the Tang-Song section, which has the earliest and most precious pieces. Directly ahead is "Snowy Night Visit to Dai" by the Yuan dynasty painter Zhang Wo. The painting depicts Wang Huizhi — son of the calligrapher Wang Xizhi — setting out by boat on a snowy night to visit his friend Dai Kui, only to turn back at the very door without knocking. His explanation: "I set out driven by the mood; the mood spent itself on the journey. Why must I actually see Dai?" This spirit of Wei-Jin dynasty freedom is one of the most graceful gestures in all of Chinese culture. Notice how snow is rendered in the painting: vast areas of empty white carry the weight of winter, while the few figures are sketched in just strokes, yet they are entirely alive. This is the power of Chinese painting's economy of means. Western painters would apply white paint stroke by stroke to depict snow; in Chinese painting, leaving the paper bare is the snow. The "undrawn painting" is the highest attainment.

Beside it is "Song Taizu Playing Cuju," a copy by Qian Xuan. Cuju is ancient Chinese football; the painting shows Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyi, playing the game with his courtiers. So a thousand years ago, emperors played football — and China is the birthplace of the sport. This painting is the evidence. The figures show a range of poses: players kicking, spectators watching, onlookers cheering. It is vivid and full of life.

Make sure to see "Portrait of a Daoist" by the Southern Song painter Liang Kai. Liang Kai was famous for his "abbreviated brushwork" style — the most expressive figures from the fewest possible strokes. Look at the figure's face — just a few lines, yet the expression is perfectly serene, and the clothing is conveyed with only a handful of strokes. This is what "sparse brushwork, deep meaning" really means. Liang Kai is venerated in Japan as a saint of painting, and his abbreviated style deeply influenced Japanese ink painting. This piece entered the museum through a purchase from the collector Weng Wange in 2016 — one of the most important acquisitions in recent years.

Moving ahead to the Ming dynasty section. Du Jin's "The Eighteen Scholars" is a major work, depicting Emperor Taizong of Tang gathering eighteen scholars at his Hall of Literature. On silk, detailed and richly colored, every figure has a distinct expression. Look carefully at each person's posture — some are playing chess, some are reading, some are in conversation — Du Jin has captured the atmosphere of a literary gathering with extraordinary life. The Eighteen Scholars were the "dream team" of Tang dynasty letters, every one a luminary. The painting is something like the Tang era's "all-star assembly."

The late Ming and early Qing section features works by the "Four Wangs" and the "Four Monks." The Four Wangs — Wang Shimin, Wang Jian, Wang Hui, and Wang Yuanqi — represented the orthodox school: technically superb but conservative in spirit. The Four Monks — Bada Shanren, Shitao, Kuncan, and Hongren — were wild individualists, intensely personal and rule-breaking. Look at them side by side. Bada Shanren's paintings are the most striking — his fish and birds all have their eyes rolled skyward, as if at odds with the entire world. That "white-eyed" gaze was actually a portrait of his own spirit after the fall of the dynasty he served.

The late Qing section showcases Shanghai School painting. The Shanghai School was Shanghai's own artistic movement — Ren Bonian and Wu Changshuo were its leading figures. Ren Bonian's paintings are bright in color and precise in form; Wu Changshuo brought the power of seal carving into his brushwork, giving his paintings a monumental, archaic energy. Shanghai School painting is essentially the projection of Shanghai's urban culture onto the canvas — commercial, open, and syncretic.

Photography tips: The large cases in the Painting Gallery allow the full length of long handscrolls to be photographed with a wide-angle mode. For details, use 2x zoom. There are benches in the middle of the gallery — Chinese painting rewards both distant and close viewing. Stand back to take in the whole composition, then sit down and study the details. The experience is completely different at each distance. Painting and calligraphy exhibits rotate every three months. Plan to spend about 30 minutes in this gallery.

At the far end of the 3rd floor is the Chinese Seal Gallery — 380 square meters, more than 500 seals and seal engravings on display. Did you know? This is China's first specialist gallery dedicated to the art of seals and seal carving — and the Shanghai Museum is the pioneer. Many people wonder what's interesting about seals. But seals are a uniquely Chinese art form: within a few square centimeters, an entire universe of expression is possible. A single carving knife can contain a whole world.

Start with the early ancient seal section. China's earliest seals appeared in the Shang dynasty, but the real flourishing came in the Warring States period. Warring States seals have a quality of deliberate "irregularity" — varied in shape, round or square or rectangular, with no standardized script. Yet they carry a raw, vital energy. Make sure you find the "Xiongnu Chancellor" seal — cast in the Zhao state during the Warring States period, it is the earliest known Xiongnu official seal. It shows that during the Warring States era, the Central Plains kingdoms were already engaged in formal diplomatic relations with the Xiongnu. The Xiongnu had writing, and they had official seals — this overturns many people's assumption that the Xiongnu were purely warriors on horseback.

Entering the Qin and Han section, the style changes completely. After Qin Shi Huang unified the six states, he standardized even the seals: emperors used the term "xi" (imperial seal), while subjects used "yin" (official seal), with strict regulations governing material, size, and knob form. Look at the Qin dynasty "Zhejiang Dushui" seal — the title "Dushui" refers to a water-conservancy official, so this seal was the "official stamp" of a hydraulic engineer. Then look at the Western Han "Hou Cavalryman" seal — an equestrian seal for a marquis, with a tiny horse as the knob, precise and charming.

The Western Jin "Jin Seal Conferred upon the Returned Di King" is the most important piece among the major works. This gold seal was presented by the Western Jin court to a chieftain of the Di people who had submitted to Jin rule. The inscription reads "Jin Gui Yi Di Wang" — "Jin" being the dynasty, "Gui Yi" meaning "returned and pledged allegiance." This seal is a tangible record of Western Jin ethnic policy. Notice the knob — it is a camel, because the Di people lived in the northwest where camels were part of everyday life. In a single small seal, the entire history of ethnic relations, political history, and art history is compressed — this is what makes seals so compelling.

In the Tang-Song-Jin-Yuan section, new styles appear. Official seals grew larger because paper had become widespread — seals now needed to be pressed onto paper rather than into clay impressions. Look at the Northern Song hua ya (personal monogram seal) — a "signature seal" used by people who could not write, representing their name with a pictographic device, somewhat like a personal logo today. Personal monograms were mainly used during the Song, Jin, and Yuan periods, and every one was unique — even more individual than today's electronic signatures.

The Ming-Qing literati seal carving section is the climax of the gallery. In the Ming dynasty, Wen Peng pioneered the practice of literati carving their own seals, and from that point on, seal carving moved from "the craftsman's domain" to "the scholar's domain." Look at Zhao Zhiqian's "Ci Lan Tang" seal. Zhao Zhiqian was a great late-Qing seal artist whose guiding principle was "seeking the seal beyond the seal" — absorbing visual material from stele inscriptions, coins, and mirror inscriptions to broaden the expressive range of seal carving. Then look at Dai Benhao's "Six-Faced Seal for Mao Pixiang" — one seal with six carved faces, each carrying different content. The technical difficulty is extreme. Mao Pixiang was one of the Four Nobles of the late Ming dynasty — the husband of the courtesan Dong Xiaowan — so this personal seal carries within it a story of talent and romance.

The final section covers Ming-Qing seal materials and knob carving. Seal materials evolved from early bronze and jade to the Shoushan stone, Qingtian stone, and Changhua stone favored by Ming-Qing literati, who could design the inscription to work with the natural colors and grain of the stone. Knob carving shifted from purely functional to purely artistic — lions, serpent-dragons, qilin, gourds — every creature imaginable. Look at the Shoushan tianhuang stone seal. Tianhuang is the "emperor of stones" — it commands prices higher than an equivalent weight of gold. The old saying goes: "three taels of gold for one tael of tianhuang."

Photography tips: The display cases in this gallery are designed to magnify the pieces. Use macro mode on your phone pressed close to the glass to capture the carved text and knob detail clearly. When photographing the seal face (the carved side), adjust your angle carefully to avoid the glare from the overhead lights. Plan to spend about 20 minutes in this gallery.

Up on the 4th floor, the first gallery is the Ancient Chinese Jade Gallery — 500 square meters, around 300 jade pieces, spanning from the Neolithic age through the Qing dynasty. Eight thousand years of jade culture, all in one space. Chinese people's love of jade is written into the culture's DNA. "The gentleman compares his virtue to jade" — in China, jade is not merely an ornament but a spiritual symbol. Confucius said jade possesses eleven virtues: warmth and luster, hardness and resilience, clarity, a clear ringing sound — each one corresponding to a quality of the ideal character.

The Liangzhu culture jade cong near the entrance is unmissable. Excavated in 1984 at Fuquan Mountain, Qingpu, Shanghai, it dates back roughly 5,000 years. Look at its shape — square on the outside, round on the inside, with a circular hole through the center. This is the "round heaven, square earth" cosmological concept expressed in jade. The jade cong was a Liangzhu ritual object used in ceremonies to heaven and earth. Look closely at the surface decoration — incised with a pattern of divine human and animal faces, with lines finer than a human hair. No one is certain what tools the craftsmen used to carve them 5,000 years ago. The Liangzhu people had no metal tools; they worked jade by grinding with "jie yu sha" — a natural mineral abrasive mixed with water. Making a single jade cong might have taken months or even years. That patience and devotion is almost impossible to imagine today.

Moving ahead to the Xia-Shang-Western Zhou section. Shang jade is dominated by animal forms — jade dragons, tigers, birds, and elephants, stylized and expressive. Western Zhou jade took on ritual significance: jade bi discs, huang pendants, and zhang blades all carried meaning tied to rank. Look at the Western Zhou dragon-pattern huang. The curved jade plaque has two dragon heads at each end, the lines fluid and forceful. "Huang" is a half bi disc — "half a bi is called a huang," as the ancient texts say. Huang were often worn as components of layered body ornaments; as the wearer walked, the jade pieces clicked together producing a clear, bright sound — described as "walking with ringing jade."

The Spring and Autumn and Warring States section represents the peak of jade craftsmanship. Jade of this period is free-spirited and varied in subject. Look at the late Warring States double-dragon-head huang — mutton-fat white jade, with two openwork dragon heads at the ends, mouths slightly parted, horns folded back, exuding power and presence. Mutton-fat white jade is the finest grade of Hetian jade — white as congealed lard, smooth and lustrous, and ancient people described it as "white as cut fat." The openwork carving technique on this double-dragon-head huang is extraordinarily refined — Warring States craftsmen carved freehand through jade rated at hardness 6 to 6.5 on the Mohs scale using only hand tools, which gives some sense of the achievement.

The Han-Jin section features the Eastern Han "Four Sacred Creatures" jade胜 ornament. Made of white jade with openwork carving of the Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, and Black Tortoise — the guardians of the four directions. East, south, west, north. Notice the carving technique: openwork means carving away the material until the design stands free, requiring extraordinary skill — one slip and the whole piece is ruined. This piece has all four creatures present in a harmonious composition and is a representative masterwork of Eastern Han jade carving.

In the Tang-Song-Liao-Jin section the style changes notably. Tang jade shows influence from Central Asian cultures, introducing figures of Central Asian types and apsaras motifs. In the Song, Liao, and Jin periods, "spring water and autumn mountain" jade emerged — spring water jade depicts a sea eagle catching a swan, while autumn mountain jade shows deer and tigers in a forest. This imagery reflects the hunting culture of Liao and Jin aristocrats. Look at the Jin dynasty spring water jade belt plaque — the swan is caught in the eagle's talons, and the dynamic sense of motion is extraordinary. The fresh, vigorous spirit of northern nomadic life comes through vividly.

The most endearing object in the Yuan-Ming-Qing section is the Yuan dynasty crystal rabbit, excavated in 1994 from the underground palace of Yuanying Pagoda in Songjiang. About six centimeters long, made of crystal, perfectly transparent. The little rabbit curls into itself with its ears folded back — the pose is irresistibly adorable and represents a rare "charming" object in the Yuan jade collection. Ming and Qing jade carving reached its technical zenith but also became increasingly elaborate — the monumental jade landscape carvings (yushan) of the Qianlong period are breathtaking in scale, though sometimes the sheer display of virtuosity comes at the cost of simplicity.

Photography tips: The jade gallery lights are set below the objects, creating a translucent effect. For openwork pieces, shoot from the side to capture the layered depth. The Liangzhu jade cong and the crystal rabbit are popular subjects — visit early in the morning when the 4th floor is less crowded. For mutton-fat white jade, reduce your exposure to avoid overexposure. Plan to spend about 25 minutes in this gallery.

Dear visitors, right next to the Jade Gallery is the Chinese Currency Gallery — seven hundred and forty square metres displaying more than three thousand three hundred pieces of currency, from the earliest cowrie-shell money all the way to modern machine-struck coins. This may be the gallery with the largest number of exhibits in the whole museum — over three thousand three hundred pieces arranged densely into walls of coins, with striking visual impact. China was one of the earliest civilizations in the world to use money. From sea shells to bronze coins, from gold and silver to paper money, four thousand years of monetary evolution are all here.

At the entrance, first look at the earliest form of money — cowrie shells. Those little sea shells are the money used by people of the Shang and Zhou dynasties three thousand years ago. Why use shells as money? Because cowrie shells came from distant coasts and were rare in inland regions, and they were durable and easy to count — naturally suited to serve as currency. Later, bronze-cast "bronze cowries" appeared, among the earliest cast metal coins in the world. From sea shells to bronze cowries was the leap from "natural money" to "manufactured money."

The Spring and Autumn and Warring States section is the period when coinage truly "blossomed in a hundred forms." Look at that display case — the shapes are wonderfully varied: spade money shaped like a shovel, knife money like a small blade, ring money like a circle, and ant-nose money like an ant. Each feudal state cast its own coins, differing in shape and not interchangeable. Look at that flat-shouldered, arc-footed hollow-handle spade coin, inscribed "official market," cast by the royal house of the Eastern Zhou — proof that officially managed markets already existed at the time. Now look at that Ying Cheng, a gold currency of the State of Chu, weighing sixty-two point six grams, made of pure gold. Chu was the only feudal state to use gold as currency — the Chu people were indeed the wealthy magnates of their age.

The Qin and Han section witnessed the unification of Chinese currency. After Qin Shi Huang united the six states, he abolished all the varied coin shapes and standardized on the "ban liang" coin — a round bronze coin with a square hole — a form that remained in use until the late Qing, over two thousand years. The "round heaven, square earth" design of the bronze coin had a far-reaching influence; the logo of the Bank of China today is a stylized version of an ancient bronze coin. Look at that Western Han horse-hoof gold, weighing two hundred and sixty-nine point five grams, a gold currency made in the second year of the Taishi era under Emperor Wu of Han, in 95 BCE. Look at its shape — oval, like a horse's hoof, hence the name. It is pure gold; more than two thousand years ago the Han emperor used it to reward meritorious officials, showing just how full the imperial treasury was.

The Tang and Song section saw the emergence of the "tong bao" coin system. In the fourth year of the Wude era of Emperor Gaozu of Tang, in 621 CE, the wu zhu coin was abolished and the "Kaiyuan Tongbao" was cast. From then on, coin inscriptions no longer indicated weight but bore names such as "tongbao" and "yuanbao," a system that lasted thirteen hundred years. Look at that Southern Song Qiandao Yuanbao, made of gold — not a circulating coin, but a commemorative piece used for court rewards. Using gold coins for rewards, the Southern Song court still had its dignity to keep up.

The Ming dynasty "Xi Wang Shang Gong" gold coin is a star exhibit. It is a reward coin cast by Zhang Xianzhong after he founded the Daxi regime, weighing thirty-eight point seven grams, and extremely rare in surviving examples. This is the same Zhang Xianzhong of the "sunken silver at the river mouth" legend — it is said that when defeated he sank a great quantity of gold and silver into the Min River, and a large hoard of gold and silver objects was indeed later recovered at Jiangkou in Pengshan, Sichuan; this coin echoes those finds across the centuries. The gold "Xi Wang Shang Gong" is exceedingly rare, the bronze ones slightly more common, the silver ones rarer still, and this gold piece in the museum is a treasure among treasures.

The Jin dynasty "Zhenyou Baoquan" five-string banknote printing plate is also very important. This is the printing block for Jin dynasty paper money, and only this single example survives. Think about it — of all the eight-hundred-year-old paper-money plates, this is the only one in the world. China was the earliest country in the world to use paper money; the Northern Song "jiaozi" predated the earliest European banknotes by more than six hundred years. This plate bears witness to China's history as the inventor of paper money, and is exceedingly precious.

Moving on to the Qing dynasty section, you can see the transition from silver ingots to machine-struck coins. That Shandong Mint full-fineness five-mace silver ingot is a late-Qing ingot, stamped on the front with the mint's mark. In the late Qing, China began importing Western coin-minting machinery, and machine-struck silver dollars (the "dragon dollar") gradually replaced traditional silver ingots, carrying Chinese currency from the "handcraft era" into the "machine era."

Photography tip: the coin cases are set into the walls, so shoot them straight on. The wall of coins (the surface arrayed with countless coins) is ideal for a wide-angle panorama, with stunning visual impact. The cases for the horse-hoof gold and the "Xi Wang Shang Gong" gold coin have spotlights, so watch out for glare when shooting. If you have a polarizing filter, fit it on — it effectively removes reflections from the case glass. Allow about twenty minutes for the whole gallery.

Dear visitors, this gallery on the fourth floor is the Chinese Ming and Qing Furniture Gallery — seven hundred square metres, more than one hundred masterpieces of Ming and Qing furniture, along with reconstructed scenes of a Ming-Qing hall and study. This may be the most "down-to-earth" gallery in the museum — in the other galleries you look at artefacts, but in this one you look at "the homes of the ancients." Furniture is the final "grand hall" of ancient Chinese art, and among all the museums in the world holding ancient Chinese furniture, the Shanghai Museum ranks at the very top.

First look at that huanghuali yoke-back armchair with four protruding ends at the entrance. A representative piece of Ming-style furniture, it stands one hundred and nineteen point five centimetres tall. What does "four protruding ends" mean? It means that both ends of the crest rail (the top horizontal bar of the backrest) and of the armrests extend outward, like the wings of an official's cap — hence the name "official's hat chair." Look at its lines — not a single one is superfluous, not a spot is carved; it wins entirely through the proportion of its lines and the beauty of the wood grain. This is the essence of Ming-style furniture: simple yet never simplistic. A chair made by Ming craftsmen four hundred years ago would look perfectly at home in an IKEA showroom today — that is the appeal of a classic.

The huanghuali three-tier open shelf beside it also deserves a close look. Fully open on all three tiers, it stands one hundred and eighty-eight centimetres tall — essentially a bookshelf. But notice — it has no back panel or side panels, only a frame and shelves, minimalism taken to the extreme. This design still looks contemporary today; Nordic minimalist furniture is practically a "junior" by comparison. The aesthetic sense of the Ming people remains, even now, a byword for "high taste."

Look ahead at that ironwood side table with panel legs and openwork, one hundred and ninety-one point five centimetres long, made from three whole boards, magnificent in presence. What does "whole board" mean? It means the tabletop and the two leg panels are each a single piece of wood, not pieced together. To find ironwood in such large whole pieces is itself a sign of extravagant material. The leg panels have openwork (decorative carved-through openings) that both reduce weight and add beauty — a perfectly judged union of function and aesthetics.

Walk on to the Ming furniture section and notice that zitan brush screen inlaid with marble. Zitan is one of the most precious woods used in Ming and Qing furniture — "an inch of zitan is worth an inch of gold." The centre of the brush screen is inlaid with a piece of natural marble whose veining resembles a landscape painting — the ancients "installed" nature itself inside their studies. This brush screen was excavated from a Ming dynasty Wanli-era tomb at Gucun in Baoshan District, Shanghai — in other words it is a burial object dug from a grave, yet it is exquisitely well preserved.

The Qing furniture section shifts to a completely different style. Ming furniture is simple; Qing furniture is ornate — heavy with carving, inlay and gilt decoration, in pursuit of splendour and opulence. Look at that zitan cabinet carved with dragon patterns, covered all over in dragon motifs, intricate to the point of being breathtaking. The difference in taste between the Ming and the Qing is like the difference between Song dynasty Ru ware and Qing dynasty famille-rose — one subtracts, the other adds. Which do you prefer? You can cast a quiet vote in your mind.

The most remarkable part is the reconstructed-scene area. On the left is a Ming-Qing hall, complete with side table, "eight-immortals" square table and grand master's chairs, a central scroll painting hanging at the centre, with couplets on either side — the standard arrangement for receiving guests in ancient times. Notice the layout of the hall: at the centre stands the side table, bearing porcelain, a chiming clock and a screen; before it is the eight-immortals table, flanked by grand master's chairs; on the wall hang the central scroll and couplets. This arrangement is called the "central-hall display," the heart of the traditional Chinese home. On the right is a study, with a writing desk, bookshelf, brush screen and incense burner — the spiritual space of the scholar. Step inside and feel the atmosphere in which the ancients received guests and read; it was utterly unlike today — no phone, no television, only a table, a chair and a stick of incense, yet with a serene, ceremonial dignity.

Photography tip: in the Furniture Gallery you can step into the reconstructed scenes to take photos; sitting in a grand master's chair for a "time-travel portrait" works wonderfully. Huanghuali furniture has a warm, amber sheen under the lighting, and shooting from the side captures the natural texture of the wood grain. The reconstructed hall is a popular photo spot, so try to avoid the crowds. For furniture details, use your phone's macro mode to capture the texture of the grain and the carving. Allow about twenty minutes for the whole gallery.

Dear visitors, the final gallery is the Chinese Ethnic Minorities Craft Gallery — over seven hundred square metres, with nearly six hundred exhibits. This gallery is the finest window onto the diverse cultures of the Chinese nation — from the Mongols of the north to the Miao and Dai of the south, the costumes, silver ornaments, dyed and embroidered textiles, and masks of all the ethnic groups gather here together. China has fifty-six ethnic groups, each with its own craft tradition, and this gallery is a three-dimensional "encyclopedia of the crafts of the Chinese nation."

First look at the costume section. The festive dress of the ethnic minorities is the most splendid of visual feasts. Look at this Miao festival costume — the crown, the neck rings and the bracelets are all silver, and a full set can weigh more than ten jin. A Miao bride wears this entire ensemble, the silver jingling as she walks — at once a display of beauty and a symbol of wealth. Miao silverwork is listed as national intangible cultural heritage — chasing, filigree, and knotting, all done by hand, with a single crown sometimes taking months to forge. Notice the patterns on the silver crown — butterflies, birds, dragons and flowers, the totems of the Miao. The Miao had no written script; their history and beliefs are all "written" into their clothing and silver ornaments. Miao silverwork is a "history book" worn on the body.

Walk on to the dyeing, weaving and embroidery section. The textile arts of the ethnic minorities each have their own distinction. Zhuang brocade is rich in colour, its patterns square and bold; Dai brocade is delicate and graceful, often featuring peacocks and elephants; Tibetan pulu wool is thick and warm, suited to the plateau climate. Look at that piece of Miao batik, with white patterns on a blue ground — first the design is painted onto white cloth with beeswax, then the cloth is dipped into an indigo vat; after dyeing, the wax is boiled off, leaving white where the wax was and blue where it was not. This wax-resist technique has been passed down among the Miao for over a thousand years, and every piece of batik is one of a kind.

Tibetan thangka are also in this gallery. Look at this thangka, painted with mineral pigments whose colours remain vivid even after several centuries. The thangka is the "portable temple" of Tibetan Buddhism — it can be rolled up and carried, taken wherever the nomadic people travel. Painting a thangka is a sacred act: before painting, the artist must bathe and fast, and while painting, recite scriptures. The pigments are all natural — gold from gold powder, blue from lapis lazuli, red from cinnabar, green from malachite. Do not use flash when photographing a thangka, as mineral pigments are sensitive to strong light.

The mask section has the strongest visual impact. Nuo masks were worn in ancient rituals to drive away ghosts and pestilence, with exaggerated forms — some with green faces and bared fangs, some with glaring, wide-open eyes. Don't be frightened — these masks were used in ancient times to "scare ghosts," not people; the ancients believed the fiercer the mask, the better it could ward off evil spirits. Tibetan masks, by contrast, are intense in colour, used in Tibetan opera performances and religious rituals. Yi masks and Zhuang masks each have their own character, and it is fascinating to compare them.

The metalwork section holds Tibetan bronze and Mongolian silverware. Look at that gilt-bronze Buddha of Tibetan Buddhism, gilded all over, the face serene and compassionate, the lotus petals of the base layered with delicacy. Fire-gilding is a technique of mixing gold with mercury and coating the surface of bronze, then heating it so the mercury evaporates and the gold remains on the bronze — a craft invented over two thousand years ago and still in use today.

Last is the rattan-and-bamboo weaving and lacquerware section. Bamboo-woven back baskets, rattan baskets, lacquerware tableware — these are the everyday utensils of the ethnic minorities, yet every one embodies the unity of "function and beauty." The crafts of the ethnic minorities did not develop inside museums but grew out of daily life — a back basket had to be sturdy and easy to carry, so it was woven tightly; lacquerware had to be durable and waterproof, so it was coated with many layers of raw lacquer. "Beauty" was not the goal, but "a by-product of being useful," a design philosophy that still feels advanced today.

Photography tip: the costumes of the ethnic minorities are rich in colour, and using a person as a reference before the cases gives a good sense of scale. The lighting in the Nuo mask area is dim for dramatic effect; using portrait mode for a close-up of a mask blurs the background and brings out the mask's expression. Miao silver ornaments reflect strongly under the lights, so lower the exposure when shooting details. The whole gallery takes about twenty minutes to walk through, and from here the exit leads to the first-floor exit and the gift shop.