My Work – Ouyang’s Desk

Big Hair at Birka

My first event here in the East Kingdom was A Market Day at Birka in January 2023. Once I decided to go, I knew I had to do something to make a little bit of a splash, if only for my own brain – a sort of arrival moment, not unlike Vivacious.

Drag Queen Vivacious, wearing a green jacket with a tall headpiece entering the workroom of RuPaul's Drag Race. The caption reads "Mother has arrived." — Drag Queen Vivacious entering the workroom of RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Quick note: WordPress didn’t want to play nice with images, so all my process photos are in a slideshow toward the end of the post.

I’d been watching Rise of the Phoenixes again and was falling in love with big hair. Inspired, I dug back through my notes and scanned pages of old inter-library loans and landed on this representation of a carving on Princess Yongtai’s tomb¹.

Because of the height and potential weight issues, I knew I didn’t want to try to create this piece with hair. This would need an under-structure, and adding hair on top of that could potentially add too much weight and make the piece difficult to wear. We have an example of a wooden hairpiece from the Tang Dynasty², so I knew that I had some options. I decided to use a combination of wire armature and paper-mache for my headpiece.

I used a styrofoam head to model my headpiece on. These heads aren’t the same size as actual human heads, so I removed the headpiece from time to time to check it on my own head.

Once I had the wire armature, I used cardstock and masking tape to do the initial side and back forms. I then used newspaper and more masking tape to do the form the front sections. Once I had a form I liked, I started covering it with paper-mache.

For my paper-mache, I used brown kraft paper and diluted woodglue. I tore the paper so that the edges would blend and used a combination of my fingers and an old paintbrush to apply the glue to the paper and then the paper to the headpiece. I did one layer of paper-mache, then went back and added another layer in the areas where the forms were more complicated (the front, around the top edge, the inside edge, and the back) to add strength and ensure smoothness.

After the paper-mache had dried, I added a layer of a white glue and joint compound mixture to once again smooth out the forms. Once that was dry, I sanded it to remove my tool marks and fingerprints.

With the form complete, I mixed up acrylic paint to try and match my hair color. I did several coats, starting with a base layer of darker red and then doing washes and dry-brushing to get as close as I could to my hair color.

Wire armature
Wire armature
Wire armature
Form
Paper Mache process
Joint compound layer
Paint
Finished paid and pearls
Finished paint and pearls
Back view of finished paint and pearls

The headpiece in the engraving is decorated with stones and flowers. I initially intended to use brass stampings for the floral embellishments, but I couldn’t find what I wanted from a supplier. I ended up doing a quick 3D model of two different flowers and printed them in PLA on our Ender-3. I then painted them with gold spray paint. I used faux half-pearl cabochons for the stones. I attached everything to the headpiece with E6000 glue. Lastly, I braided some kanekalon hair and attached it on the bottom and inside edge with hot glue so that I would have something to pin into to secure the headpiece.

I’m incredibly thankful to Dame Katerinka Lvovicha for her time and skill in styling my hair with this headpiece for Birka. She did a fantastic job. I made a new hair rat using kanekalon hair I purchased in a color close to mine, which we used to beef up the back of my head, and another to help give body to the front and side.

A pale woman wearing early Tang Dynasty clothing wearing the headpiece standing in a hallway. — At Birka!

The headpiece isn’t heavy, but given that I wore it slightly back on my head, it made me very aware of my posture. If I slouched, it would strain my neck and shoulders.

I’m really happy with how the headpiece came out. It’s a great option to have for my early Tang Dynasty wardrobe, which I’ve been reaching for more and more. I love the big, swoopy sleeves, but I also like the modesty that the banhi provides.

Zhang, J. (2014). Thoughts on some grave goods from the tomb of Li Chui. In S. Grieff, R. Schiavone, J. Zhang, Hou, G., & Yang, J. (Eds.) The Tomb of Li Chui: Interdisciplinary studies into Tang period finds assemblage (149-168). Mainz, Germany: Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums ↩
Ibid ↩

Crowing Rooster Pillows

I hesitated when Countess Laurel Gwen, Meridies, put out the call for participants in a medieval effigy project. My concerns about my own participation were related to cultural appropriation – because I’d be not only showcasing the material culture of a culture that I have no personal ties to, and which my own ethnicity/nationality (White American whose ancestors immigrated from Europe before the Revolutionary War) have a history of marginalizing, but also recreating an image of that culture’s burial practices. After some research into those practices and conversations with trusted SCAdians who belong to this culture, I decided to go ahead.

Enter the roosters.

The 鸡鸣枕, ji ming zhen, or “crowing rooster pillow” is often seen in Chinese burials from the SCA period. The Yingpan man’s head rests on one, and we have examples of these pillows from the Eastern Han Dynasty through the Tang Dynasty. I had decided to try and stick to the Astana finds in Turpan (link goes to an image of one of the mummies with might be a reconstructed pillow), so I knew I had to make a rooster pillow.

Since this was a side project while I was prepping for my vigil and elevation, I didn’t dive as deep as I eventually will into this particular item and use in Han Chinese death practices during the Tang Dynasty. I dug around and looked at images and tried to recreate something that looked and functioned like what I saw, using materials and methods I knew to be known and used in that period. (Sadly, this appears to be one of those topics that doesn’t have any good English-language articles/write-ups, which means the research will be slow-going.)

The extant pillows I can find vary in shape, but all have a similar silhouette – two heads, joined pushmi-pullyu style onto one body. Many of the extant pillows have coxcombs and waddles, though some do not. It’s difficult to say if these smaller pieces of silk were absent, or just deteriorated and separated from the main body of the pillow.

The Ming Pillow of the Eastern Han Dynasty unearthed from the Niya Husband and Wife Tomb in Minfeng County in 1959 (pictures provided by the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region Museum) — A pillow from the Eastern Han Dynasty, unearthed from the Niya husband and wife Tomb in Minfeng County in 1959 (picture by the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region Museum).

A crowing rooster pillow from the Jin Dynasty (266-420 CE).

I still have some of the 24″ wide brocade I used for my banbi, so I decide to use some of it for my rooster. After sketching out a basic shape, adjusting for stuffing deterioration, I cut out two pieces from the brocade for the sides of the rooster, and a third gusset piece for the bottom, since so many appear to be able to sit flat. This also allows for more stuffing to be put into the pillow.

I sewed the pieces together with a backstitch, and used some green felted wool for the comb, held within the seam. I also made two tassels out of yellow silk embroidery floss and inserted it so that it would hang from the end of the beak, like some of the extants show. After it was sewn up, I turned it right-side out and ironed it. I have what feels like a bottomless bag of Tunis wool that was given to me years ago, which I used to stuff the pillow. Once stuffed, I turned in the edges of the opening and stitched it closed.

After the pillow aspect of the rooster was done, I focused on embellishment. My rooster needed eyes and a waddle. Going off of the Jin Dynasty extant, I used yellow silk and jade beads for the eyes, and yellow silk and green silk for the waddle, which were half circle pieces.

This was a fun project, because aside from the green wool (I don’t have really any wool), everything I used was already in my supply/scraps bin – and most of it was scraps. The whole thing came together in only a couple of days, and if I had chosen to start it on a weekend, I probably could have easily finished it in one day.

So now I have a crowing rooster pillow, which I’m fully expecting my smallest child to try and claim as her own.

She thinks it is a dragon.

You can watch the Medieval Effigy Project video below. Enjoy!

When You’re Wrong

Hi. My SCA name is Ouyang Yingzhao, pronounced OH-yawng YING-chow. OH like so, not OO like root.

Last summer, there was one of those “tell us about yourself” SCA memes bouncing around Facebook. This one included how to pronounce your name.

I filled it out and posted it, using the pronunciation that I had been using since about 2016, while the name was still in the process of being registered.

The thing is, I had been pronouncing it incorrectly, and by doing so, had perpetuated others in pronouncing it incorrectly. I was wrong, and because I didn’t know, other people who looked to me as an example were also wrong.

This post has been a long time coming – believe me, I know. Every time someone has said my name, either in greeting or introducing me, in the past year and change, I have cringed a little on the inside knowing it was incorrect, but also felt like it wasn’t the right time to correct them, due to some context or another.¹ Since I was first corrected, I have wanted to do a longer “I was wrong” post, but I also wanted to tie it into a larger conversation about being wrong. But it kept getting put off, then forgotten, then remembered whenever someone said my name. And then I’d feel guilty about not having done it yet.²

That changes today. Hi. My SCA name is Ouyang Yingzhao, pronounced OH-yawng YING-chow. OH like so, not OO like root.

I should have written this sooner – not over a year after being corrected – and I’m sorry. It’s not the fault of the herald that helped me – they told me how to pronounce it correctly when we decided on the name. I can’t say for sure how the pronunciation got messed up in my head, but it did, and I am very, very sorry for making and perpetuating this mistake, and thereby not doing right by the Chinese language, its people, and their history.

Why is this such a big deal? It’s just a name, right? Names are words – words that are attached to people. And words are powerful. Names are powerful. And this name, this proper noun, is also from a language that I do not speak and a culture that I do not personal identify with. So getting it right matters a lot, and getting it wrong is bad.

All I can do now is acknowledge the mistake and point it out when my name is mispronounced. I am sorry for not doing this sooner. I will, as always, strive to do better.

I’ve tried to retrain my own voice to say it the correct way, and I’m doing better. 4 years of saying a word one way takes a conscious effort to correct. ↩
That happens a lot. It’s weird, and stupid, but it’s my brain. I’m working on it. ↩

The Rock Crystal Necklace of Lady Mi – A Maker’s Diary

This post is a result of my cursory research of Lady Mi’s rock crystal necklace, exhibited by the National Museum of China in 2019, and my attempts to recreate it. I don’t plan on ever entering this necklace in competition, but I wanted to share this process as it shines light on how one can recreate something that looks period without using 100% period techniques or materials – and, mainly, on a budget. I’ll link to all the items I purchased for this project, as well as the sources used. Special thanks to Minamoto no Hideaki for helping translate.

Lady Mi’s rock crystal necklace, on display at the National Museum of China in their *Datang Fenghua Exhibition* *(大唐风华特展, January 2019)*. Click to enlarge.

Lady Mi, consort of the Fujun official (辅君夫人米氏, 685 AD-755 AD) was buried in what would become the suburbs of X’ian, Shaanix Province. Her tomb was discovered in 2002. She was buried wearing a rock crystal necklace with amethyst and turquoise drops and three blue beads, all strung on silk. The silk had degraded, and archeologists had to search for the beads that had scattered around her neck.

They found 92 crystal beads, 2 amethysts, 2 turquoise, and 3 blue beads. The amethyst and turquoise were set with gold bails.

Updating Files and Plans

I’ve added two new files to the Documentation page on the site – my handout on Tang Dynasty Games (taught at Magna Faire 2019) and my documentation on the banbi I entered at Magna Faire, Menhir, and Midwinter A&S.

I’ve got plans to revise the banbi documentation for publication over on the Tang Dynasty Garment Construction section, so you have a more easily accessible “how to” on this garment.

In My Sewing Bag: Socks! At Meridian Grand Tournament, I cut out and stitched my first stab at a Tang Dynasty sock, but it was too tight across the bridge. So at Menhir, I recut with a bit more room there and am currently seaming them up for another try-on.

Painted silk socks from the Astana Cemetery (Tang Dynasty). — Painted silk socks from Astana, in Zaho, F. (2012). Silks in the Sui, Tang, and Five Dynasties. In D. Kuhn, (Ed.), *Chinese Silks* (pp. 203-257). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
p. 246.

There is an extant pair of Tang Dynasty socks from the Astana Cemetery, and we have a bunch of socks that date to the 8th century in the Shōsōin Treasure House. I’ve pinned a bunch, and I’m working on separating out my currently very disorganized Tang Dynasty Pinterest board into sections – with the socks being the first go-round.

And before you eyebrow at me, no, this is not my “check it off the list” post for February. I’m working on two – how to cite museum objects and do’s and don’ts for contacting libraries/museums/academics with questions.

Bye for now! <3

Songs I’ve Sung

To date, I have had a hand in writing three songs in the SCA. Two of them are silly. Two have corresponding illumination. One is based on a period poem and requires context. None of them get performed often, in part because I don’t attend many bardic circles, and within those circles, reading the tone of the circle to know what is best to present for the continued enjoyment of the participants/listeners is a challenge in regard to these songs.

So I’m presenting them here, if only so I keep a record of them in one spot.

The first was in answer to the Bard, Scribe, Illuminator challenge at the 2012 Northshield Bardic Madness. The theme was to do with animal puns, so Mistress Orlaith Ballach Inghean Fhlain, Larkin of Schattentor, and I wrote a filk of The Teddy Bear’s Picnic about the Great Bears of Northshield. I apologize for the lighting – this was in the last Fyte, which was the Feast Fyte, and I’d feel bad about doing a new recording without Larkin.

Illumination by me, based on an amalgamation of pages from the Taymouth Hours (February and March; f. 1v and 2r). I can’t recall who did the calligraphy, but it was probably Orlaith.

Chorus: (With the number lowering with each iteration)
Four Great Bears went out one day
To prove for good and all
Who was the Greatest of the Bears
To Grace a Northshield Hall

Fiskr [Fish] set out at a healthy pace
But then he began to flounder

Ia took a breath to prepare
But then she found that she lacked consonants
[consonance; there is an infamous CD of Ia singing filks]
Skjaldvør [called Wyndreth] had the breeze at her back
But the wind went out of her sails

Tarrach began to take the lead
But then he met up with a T-Rex
[Tarrach was Northshield's second King, and had previously
been King of the Middle - and would often sign T. Rex]

The second song is All Griffins Are Girls – A Heraldic Primer, which I wrote with Baroness Katerinka Lvovicha in either 2013 or 2014. She tells a story about helping someone at a Heraldic Consult table with fish heraldry, and to make a fish not look dead and hanging to dry, the attitude needs to be naiant. And, being Northshielders, we latched onto the conceit that Griffins are Girls. The words are here!

You might want to turn the sound up a bit on this one, or you can watch the video of us trying to remember the words and do the motions on the fly at a Bardic Madness post-revel.

That same year, for that same event, I answered a challenge for pieces based on period texts, etc. I chose Yehuda Halevi’s My Heart is in the East. (And I’ll eventually put my hands on the illumination again and upload the image.) I don’t have a recording from the event, but I do have something I recorded with my phone. This is the sad one. This is the one that requires context.

Yehuda Halevi was born c. 1075-1086 in Al-Andalus. He was a physician and philosopher and considered one of the greatest Hebrew poets. Halevi wrote The Kuzari, a pillar of Jewish philosophy, and was part of the “golden age” of Hispano-Jewish culture and life in Granada during the 11th century. He died in 1142, shortly after arriving in Israel. He lived during the entire First Crusade, and much of his poetry is marked by his longing to go to Israel. His text is below – I used several different translations to guide my own adaptation of his verse, in English, to music.

יהודה הלוי
לבי במזרח

לִבִּי בְמִזְרָח וְאָנֹכִי בְּסוֹף מַעֲרָב
אֵיךְ אֶטְעֲמָה אֵת אֲשֶׁר אֹכַל וְאֵיךְ יֶעֱרָב
אֵיכָה אֲשַׁלֵּם נְדָרַי וָאֱסָרַי, בְּעוֹד
צִיּוֹן בְּחֶבֶל אֱדוֹם וַאֲנִי בְּכֶבֶל עֲרָב
יֵקַל בְּעֵינַי עֲזֹב כָּל טוּב סְפָרַד, כְּמוֹ
יֵקַר בְּעֵינַי רְאוֹת עַפְרוֹת דְּבִיר נֶחֱרָב.

My heart is in the East
But I am at the end of the West.
How can I savor food, how can it be called pleasing -
How can I render my vows and my bonds
While Zion lies in fetters
And I am in Arab chains?

It would be too easy
To leave behind the bounty of Spain -
So precious is the dust
Of that desolate sanctuary.

Having been likely written at some point either during or after the First Crusade, Halevi’s poem carries a lot of emotional weight. What struck me was the intense, mournful longing, which I tried to bring into the music. Given the continued turmoil in the region, I opt not to sing this song unless asked, so that I can provide the proper context. And since I don’t go to many bardic circles due to having small children, I don’t get asked often at all. And honestly? That’s okay. It’s an emotional song for me, as much as it was good practice in taking existing words and figuring out a tune for them. It doesn’t need to be on any bardic circle “greatest hits” list.

A Tale of Two (Linen) Skirts

Two linen skirts, both comparable in dignity.

I have two Tang Dynasty skirts made of linen. One is pretty pastel pink-and-purple. The other is kick-you-in-the-face orange.

The pink skirt is a split skirt, meaning that it is two panels pleated to bands with ties that are seamed at the sides, with a gap at the top so that it can be wrapped around the wearer’s waist and tied.

My pink skirt, looking kind of orange and in need of an ironing before I wear it again.

The orange skirt is a single-panel wrap skirt. It’s still a panel pleated to a band, but it is one long panel – long enough to wrap around the wearer 1.5 times, with ties at each end. It’s worn very similarly to a modern wrap skirt.

Here’s a (cued) video showing how to wear both kinds of skirt. (I can’t speak to the two-toned tie method’s period accuracy, since I haven’t seen ties in paintings that look like they are two colors, but it sure looks cool!)

Before I launch into the specifics regarding these two styles of skirt when they are made of linen, let’s talk about wrap and split skirts during the Tang Dynasty. The extant skirt we have from the Song Dynasty ¹ and the doll-sized skirts from the Tang Dynasty ² all appear to be of the single-panel wrap variety; however, we have some pictorial evidence of split skirts.

Detail of A Palace Concert, potentially showing evidence for the two-panel style skirt ³

Two ladies on the right side of the table in A Palace Concert appear to have split skirts, perhaps with a secondary skirt worn beneath. The lower lady, wearing a pale pink printed shirt and a pale skirt with a green tie. Deciphering what we are seeing here is a little rough, not only due to the degradation of the painting. It is possible that the split in the paler fabric of the skirt is instead the hanging piece of the lady’s skirt tie, but given the position at her underarm and the way the skirt folds move around it makes me question that theory.

Like the lady below her, the flute-player’s pale skirt is divided at the side to reveal a triangle of red fabric with some sort of design. She is also wearing a red pibo, but the shawl clearly flows down her back and across her chest as opposed to under her arm. Even if it was tucked inside her skirt’s waistband, which we occasionally see in other images, the fact that we can see it would still stand as evidence of a two-panel skirt.

In addition to A Palace Concert, ladies on the north wall of Mogao Cave 107 are wearing two skirts, the top-most of which has a very deep split.

Detail of mural on the north wall of Cave 107, showing split-style skirts, as well as skirts with horizontal stripes.⁴

So to the question of which is more period, there might be a distinction to be made between the two styles of skirts based on region or a narrower time period, given the fluctuation of fashion during the Tang Dynasty, but I haven’t yet dug that far to find/make that distinction. Cave 107 is dated to late Tang (827-859), while the A Palace Concert is anonymous, making it more difficult to date.

I (usually) wear linen skirts at events where I am chasing small children, because small children don’t understand that sticky applesauce or banana hands on Mama’s silk is a bad idea. But I learned something about linen skirts when I wore the orange one at Known World Costume and Fiber Arts in Georgia this summer – single panel wrap linen skirts with linen ties do not want to stay up.

This is possibly and very likely due to the weight of the linen and the way the linen-on-linen ties act. Silk is stronger, and has a bit of tooth compared to linen that helps it grip. My very first Tang Dynasty skirt had bias cut silk ribbon ties, but they weren’t heavy enough and were too slick to do the job, so my subsequent skirts had either poly-satin ribbon ties (which is fine in a pinch) or ties I made myself out of fabric tubes or folded and stitched silk.

The pink, two-panel split skirt has never slipped the same way that the orange one did. I think it’s because the weight of the skirt is split between two sets of ties. Also – in my experience, if you want to embrace the cleavage-y aspect of Tang Dynasty clothing, go with silk. My linen skirts do better if they sit at the top of your chest, so that your breasts can help support the fabric, as opposed to across the middle.

Image may contain: 1 person, standing, tree and outdoor — Me, wearing the red silk skirt with the Sartor silk band that Mistress Una made for me.

The width of the ties make a difference too. I’ve noticed that my big band skirt that my Laurel, Mistress Una, made for me, tends to sag a bit at the sides. I think that if I replace the poly-satin ribbon ties with wider, silk ties (at least as wide as the band itself), I can fix this issue. As it is, the narrower ties are secured at the top of the band, meaning that the bottom of the band sags.

If you compare the photo above to the photo below, where I am wearing a skirt with a thinner waistband, the silk ties are in better proportion to the waistband, and do a much better job at… well, their job. (These are both two-panel skirts, by the way).

Image may contain: 2 people, people standing, stripes, child and outdoor — Me in my stripey split panel silk skirt.

The next few events on my docket are sans children, so I think I’ll tackle the Sartor skirt first in terms of fixing stuff. Then I can figure out how to best turn a the orange wrap skirt into a split skirt, so that I can wear it around a toddler without fear of malfunction.

Zhou, X.; Gao, C. (1987). 5000 years of Chinese costumes. Hong Kong: The Commercial Press. p. 123. ↩
Chen, B. Y. (2013). Dressing for the times: Fashion in Tang Dynasty China (618-907). (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from Academic Commons. (doi: 10.7916/D8KK9B6D). p. 92. ↩
“唐人宮樂圖 (A Palace Concert).” (618-907). National Palace Museum. Retreived from https://theme.npm.edu.tw/selection/Article.aspx?sNo=04000957&lang=2. ↩
“Mogao Grottoes Cave 107.” Digital Dunhuang. Retrieved from: https://www.e-dunhuang.com/cave/10.0001/0001.0001.0107. ↩

Makeup in SCA Period

sca-nerd:

I was talking with one of my Wards (she’s almost 16) about an event we were going to today and this happened.

And now I think she wants to research period make-up. So that’s a win.

Oh man. Oh man oh man. 😀

A Roman Woman’s Medicamentum: Creating the look of Roman Cosmetics with Modern Products
My A&S Paper on makeup (and the philosophy/cultural intricacies of cosmetics in Ancient Rome)

Chinese Cosmetics in the Tang Dynasty
Another paper, similar to the one on Roman cosmetics, but on Tang Dynasty makeup and styling.

Stefan’s Florilegium has a couple of articles on period cosmetics and perfumes, which I can’t seem to link directly to – but just do a search there for “cosmetics” and you’ll be happy.

Be wary of the “Encyclopedia of Cosmetics” type books, because if they do talk about SCA period, it’s super quick and tend to not be cited well. And if you’re looking at non-western European makeup…yeah.

ANYWAY, I’m a period cosmetics dork. 😀

“Tracing is Period”

A couple of months ago, I threw myself (is there any other way?) into researching period tracing techniques for Western Europe. We talk about how “tracing is period” but generally, the conversation stops there. This was a fun little rabbit hole for me, and someday I’ll trek back down it and try to make my own tracing paper. Though I doubt my husband will be a fan of me spreading fish glue on granite until it is thick enough to make paper…

You can see my handout here: Tracing is Period: A Discussion of Techniques used to Reproduce Art in Medieval Europe

I decided to post today because 1), new handout, and 2) I’m TRACING!

Working on f. 10v of The Second Bible of Charles the Bald, 871-877.

Continue reading ““Tracing is Period””

Visconti Baronies and How I Ship Awards

Kaydian Bladebreaker’s Court Barony backlog is done!

Ahem. Sorry about that.

Sir Kaydian’s barony is the companion piece to his lovely lady’s, Mistress Cassandra, given at the same event. I was very honored to be asked to take care of these backlog scrolls. They took me awhile (as is evident by the distinct skill-evolution between Cassandra’s and Kaydian’s, especially in terms of script) due to moving twice and the general stuff of life, but they’re done now, and soon I will be shipping Kaydian’s scroll so that they can be matted and framed and (I assume) displayed side by side. Both of them are based on the Visconti Hours – Kaydian’s is LF 155 and Cassandra’s is LF 153.

I wanted to take a moment and show how I prep scrolls for mailing, in addition to showing this pair side by side (which is why I haven’t blogged about Cassandra’s yet). Pics and more after the break!

Continue reading “Visconti Baronies and How I Ship Awards”