A Mix of Science and Tradition Helps Restore Relics in China's Forbidden City

Visitors look at elaborate antique clocks displayed on the sprawling compound of the Forbidden City also known as the Palace Museum in Beijing, Friday, Feb. 21, 2025. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)
Visitors look at elaborate antique clocks displayed on the sprawling compound of the Forbidden City also known as the Palace Museum in Beijing, Friday, Feb. 21, 2025. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)
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A Mix of Science and Tradition Helps Restore Relics in China's Forbidden City

Visitors look at elaborate antique clocks displayed on the sprawling compound of the Forbidden City also known as the Palace Museum in Beijing, Friday, Feb. 21, 2025. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)
Visitors look at elaborate antique clocks displayed on the sprawling compound of the Forbidden City also known as the Palace Museum in Beijing, Friday, Feb. 21, 2025. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)

It's highly technical work in what looks more like a lab than a museum: A fragment of a glazed roof tile from Beijing’s Forbidden City is analyzed in a state-of-the-art X-ray diffraction machine that produces images, which are then projected onto computer screens.
The fragment being examined has a dark area on its surface that restorers want to understand. Their objective is to better preserve the artifacts at the sprawling imperial palace, the former home of China’s emperors and its seat of power for hundreds of years, The Associated Press reported.
“We want to learn what the black material is," said Kang Baoqiang, one of the restorers at the complex, today a museum that attracts tourists from all over the world. “Whether it’s atmospheric sediment or the result of substantial change from within.”
About 150 workers on the team fuse scientific analysis and traditional techniques to clean, patch up and otherwise revive the more than 1.8 million relics in the museum's collection.
They include scroll paintings, calligraphy, bronzes, ceramics — and, somewhat unexpectedly, ornate antique clocks that were gifted to emperors by early European visitors.
Down the hall from the X-ray room, two other restorers patch up holes on a panel of patterned green silk with the Chinese character for “longevity” sewn into it, carefully adding color in a process called “inpainting.”
The piece is believed to have been a birthday gift to Empress Dowager Cixi, the power behind the throne in the late 19th and early 20th century.
Much of the work is laborious and monotonous — and takes months to complete.
“I don’t have the big dreams of protecting traditional cultural heritage that people talk about," said Wang Nan, one of the restorers. "I simply enjoy the sense of achievement when an antique piece is fixed.”
Now a major tourist site in the heart of Beijing, the Forbidden City is the name that was given to the sprawling compound by foreigners in imperial times because entry was forbidden to most outsiders. It's formally known as the Palace Museum.
Many of its treasures were hurriedly taken away during World War II to keep them from falling into the hands of the invading Japanese army. During a civil war that brought the Communist Party to power in 1949, the defeated Nationalists took many of the most prized pieces to Taiwan, where they are now housed in the National Palace Museum.
Beijing's Palace Museum has since rebuilt its collection.
Restoration techniques have also evolved, said Qu Feng, head of the museum’s Conservation Department, though the old ways remain the foundation of the work.
When we preserve an antique piece, we “protect the cultural values it carries,” Qu said. "And that is our ultimate goal.”



Comoros’ Prized Muslim Headgear Undercut by Chinese Copies 

Muslim men talk to each other after performing the Friday prayer at the Badjanani Mosque in Moroni, on January 12, 2024. (AFP)
Muslim men talk to each other after performing the Friday prayer at the Badjanani Mosque in Moroni, on January 12, 2024. (AFP)
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Comoros’ Prized Muslim Headgear Undercut by Chinese Copies 

Muslim men talk to each other after performing the Friday prayer at the Badjanani Mosque in Moroni, on January 12, 2024. (AFP)
Muslim men talk to each other after performing the Friday prayer at the Badjanani Mosque in Moroni, on January 12, 2024. (AFP)

In the markets of the Comoros, the hand-embroidered kofia that is essential headwear for men and boys at Eid celebrations this month is facing fierce competition from much cheaper Chinese versions.

The authentic kofia -- which often feature delicately embroidered Arabic calligraphy in silk thread -- can cost up to 400 euros ($432) each.

A "made in China" version goes for about 12 euros -- and even that is negotiable, vendor Hassanati Idjabou tells a customer at the bustling Volovolo market in Moroni, capital of the Muslim-majority archipelago of 870,000 people.

"The main attraction is the price," admits the customer, Said Mohamed, a plumber who is shopping for kofia for his two sons ahead of Eid at the end of the month.

"Handmade kofia are more beautiful but they are excessively expensive, especially for carefree children who don't appreciate their value," he says, walking away with his purchase.

The average salary in these Indian Ocean islands is below 200 euros a month but nearly half the population is on the poverty line, living on just over 100 euros a month, according to national statistics.

Three years ago, Idjabou's stand was raided by police combating forgery. "I was arrested for several hours by the national police and my stock of kofia was confiscated for a few days," the frail vendor says.

But today the policemen patrolling a few meters from her stall are indifferent to the counterfeit products.

Idjabou does not think the cheaper versions she sells will undercut the future of the authentic version so cherished on these islands and nearby countries.

"Traditional kofia will not disappear for one simple reason: no one would dream of sending a counterfeit kofia to a man about to marry their daughter," she says.

Another advantage of the Chinese version: they are unlikely to get stolen, says Mohamed Ali Mgomri, who also owns one. "Nobody's going to want to steal something that costs 15 euros," he says.

- 'Killing our craft' -

In the Comoros, kofia are only worn by males but almost exclusively embroidered by women in work that is slow and painstaking.

In the seaside town of Mitsamiouli, 40 kilometers (25 miles) from Moroni, long-time kofia creator Chifayi Mwasi opens the heavy, ornate door of her house at the entrance of the medina.

"They're killing our craft," says Mwasi, who is in her seventies and has been sewing kofia since she was 11 years old.

"They take photos of our models and go to China to produce them in industrial quantities," she says.

In the middle of the living room is an antiquated black-and-gold sewing machine.

"It's over 50 years old, it is hardy," laughs Mwasi. Her right foot, resting on a cushion, gently presses the pedal in a regular rhythm.

"Electric sewing machines are far too fast for crafting a kofia," she says. Mwasi designs the patterns that are later embroidered on to the kofia by other women, such as Maissara Mhadjou.

"Making a kofia takes me at least two months and I am paid 150 euros ($162)," says Mhadjou, whose swollen fingers run over and over an intricate stitch.

"Our heritage won't just disappear," she says. "Chinese kofia aren't ugly, but they're no match for hand-embroidered ones."

But anthropologist Abderemane Wadjih, who is wearing a handmade version on his head, believes "the Chinese invasion represents a cultural threat" to an item that is precious to the Comoros identity.

The Comoros has to nurture the age-old mother to daughter transfer of the art and craft of creating kofia while also considering how to make more affordable versions, says the government's director of culture, Wahida Hassani.

"We have to do our utmost to ensure that this transmission continues, whether through formal or non-formal education," she says. "Preventing the Chinese from proliferating the kofia -- that is not one of my abilities."