Episode #77: Cursed Art: The Terracotta Army (Season 9, Episode 1)
In our ninth season, in a topic suggested by you, our listeners, we’re uncovering the backstory behind some of the world’s most famed “cursed” objects in art, architecture, and archaeology. Today, we’re beginning with one of the greatest archaeological discoveries of the late 20th century: the grand funeral complex of Chinese emperor Qin Shi Huangdi, known as the “Terracotta Army.”
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Episode Credits:
Production and Editing by Kaboonki. Theme music by Alex Davis. Logo by Dave Rainey. Additional research and writing by Jordan McDonough.
ArtCurious is sponsored by Anchorlight, an interdisciplinary creative space, founded with the intent of fostering artists, designers, and craftspeople at varying stages of their development. Home to artist studios, residency opportunities, and exhibition space Anchorlight encourages mentorship and the cross-pollination of skills among creatives in the Triangle.
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Recommended Reading
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Links and further resources
Artnet: There Are 8,000 Known Terracotta Warriors. But Archaeologists in China Just Found More Than 200 Others
Smithsonian: Terra Cotta Soldiers on the March
Sixth Tone: To Religious Chinese, Cemeteries Are of Grave Importance
Daily Mail: Curse of the Terracotta Army: How Those Who Discovered Relic Suffered Ruined Lives
PBS: China's Terracotta Warriors
SWI: The Man Who Dug a Well and Found an Army
Episode Transcript
March 29, 1974 started out as a typically dry day in Xi’an, China. Dry, it’s important to note, because some of the area was farmland, and farmland that sorely needed irrigation. So a group of seven farmers who communally worked the land began a mundane sort of project: they began to dig a well. But what they ended up digging instead turned out to be the absolute opposite of mundane. As the band of workers burrowed into the ground, they found their shovels and pickaxes hitting something hard about 15 meters below the surface. This wasn’t the fresh water that they had expected, but instead, a stone face grinned up at them.
There had long been myths and legends swirling around the Xi’an region of hidden secrets and buried treasure, but did any of the local farmers believe them to be anything other than storytelling through the long, cold nights? Did these tales spring to mind when these seven literal groundbreakers unexpectedly came across what has become known as one of the greatest archaeological discoveries of our modern time? And after the enormity of their discovery washed over them, did they expect fame and fortune? Surely none of them could have foreseen the immense hardship and heartache that would befall them-- but should they have, given that some have claimed that their own discovery cursed them for life?
Some people think that visual art is dry, boring, lifeless. But the stories behind those paintings, sculptures, drawings and photographs are weirder, more outrageous, or more fun than you can imagine. This season, season nine, is all about curses in art and archaeology, a topic that was suggested by you, our listeners. And today we’re beginning with one of the biggest archaeological finds of the late 20th century: the Terracotta Warriors in Xi’an, China. This is the ArtCurious Podcast, exploring the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in Art History. I'm Jennifer Dasal.
Not terribly long after the 1974 discovery of what we know call, loosely, the “Terracotta Warriors,” the archaeological site began receiving praise as the “8th Wonder of the World,” and would eventually skyrocket to receiving over a million tourist visits each year, because the remnants of that soldier figure that was first unearthed that March was merely the tip of a vast trove of funeral statuary that is still being excavated today, and one that consists of thousands of individual terracotta figures and artifacts, all adding up to one of the most extravagant tombs ever constructed. Envision this-- and I’ll be posting pictures to our website and to social media, in case you want to see rather than envision the scene--three huge archaeological pits, full of over 8,000 terracotta sculptures, many of them representing a vast army and each one with distinct and unique human features. Let’s drive that home, because for me, this is one of the most fascinating elements-- every single figure is unique, with a different expression, or hairstyle, or facial feature. That’s even more impressive than the sheer number of sculptures here. All of these objects have been frozen, standing guard for more than 2,200 years over their master, the first Emperor of China, Qin Shi Huangdi. Now is as good a time as ever to say that I do not speak any Chinese dialect and am very aware of my lack of good pronunciation, especially given the many unique intonations that make Mandarin, for example, so complicated for many of us English speakers. Suffice to say: I’m trying my best here. Qin Shi Huangdi’s vast terracotta army is also further accompanied by bronze chariots drawn by terracotta horses, and a troupe of acrobats and entertainers. And of course that’s not all. Like many great kings, emperors, and pharaohs (and hint hint, we’ll be heading to Egypt later this season, of course), Emperor Qin has been joined in death by his most prized possessions, which includes treasures like piles of gemstones meant to represent the galaxy, as well as the unfinished remains of his expansive EBANG palace. All of this combines to showcase one of the most stunning and vast archaeological finds of the 20th century, and one that offers insights into the beliefs and customs of a time and place from long, long ago, but one that established many of the foundations of contemporary-day China-- and the man credited with making it all happen.
Indeed, one of the coolest things about the Terracotta Warriors tomb complex is the amount of information that archaeologists have been able to glean about Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi himself. This sole individual has been claimed as the unifier for all of China, for creating a civil administration system, for constructing a road network that would become the Great Wall of China, and for standardizing Chinese script. He is even credited for housing the leaders of his newly conquered lands in replica palaces from their respective regions, which were all rebuilt in and around his own capital city, which seems rather magnanimous to me. Quite significant feats considering he ascended the throne when he was only 13 years old and died at just 49 years old-- leaving a relatively short reign of 36 years, during part of which he was literally still a child. Still, it’s obvious that this man--China’s first true emperor-- was worthy of a vast legacy, and like other powerful leaders long before and long after, Qin wanted to ensure the longevity of that legacy and influence--and legend has it that he even attempted to achieve immortality first, before planning his incredible funerary complex (which makes some good, if misguided sense, I suppose-- check to see if you can live forever, first, before preparing for your own death). Legend has it that Qin had heard stories of magical herbs that were found in the islands of the East China Sea that granted eternal life. So, he sent several lackeys to go find these potentially magical herbs, but they came back empty-handed. Qin decided, ultimately, that if you want something done right, then you have to do it yourself, which ended up being a fateful mistake for the emperor, and one wrapped up in a nice bow of irony, because on the voyage over to these islands in the East China Sea, he caught sick and died. Immortal he was not-- at least, not in the way he had hoped or anticipated. But he has achieved a kind of immortality through his incredible funerary complex-- and one that rose in fervor, let alone importance, after its uncovering began in the 1970s.
As mentioned previously, one of the coolest, and most unusual, aspects of the Terracotta Warriors complex is that it contains more than 8,000 life-size, or some even larger-than-life-size, sculptures, each weighing in at over 600 pounds and over 6 feet tall. And every single one of these figures is unique, varied in expression, facial detailing, clothing, hairstyles, and more. From archaeological dating of the site, Emperor Qin’s craftspeople were able to complete the entire tomb, and all its sculptural glory, in just 11 years after the Emperor’s death. But remember, this was over two thousand years ago, without automation or machinery--nothing like the modern technology that could assist artisans today. Thus, trying to figure out just how the heck this was all done--just like how the pyramids in Egypt were actually put together--has long been a fascinating topic for both historians and laypeople alike. One of the most widely-accepted theories is that workers fabricated fairly standardized torsos in an assembly line fashion, and then workers who focused on unique features-- like one sculptor whose specialty was hands, or another who focused on heads only--would then add on the more personalized detailing. Historians have also suggested that the large height, and durability, of the sculptures is due to a method known as “clay-coiling,” where long strips of clay are coiled atop each other, one after another, to form the basis of each figure. There are lots of other theories about the construction of the complex that I am not going to go into today, suffice to say that there’s one detail that all experts agree upon-- and that is that required a vast amount of manpower to achieve. It is estimated that 700,000 workers contributed to the construction of the final resting place of their emperor. That’s incredible. Now, imagine the number of people who are out there, painstakingly uncovering and assessing the thousands of objects buried here by these approximately 700,000 workers, and you’ll understand immediately why, almost 50 years later, Emperor Qin’s complex is still being diligently excavated. There’s just so much of it to uncover, and it is slow work done by a select team of archaeologists and assistants. Here’s one thing to consider: the actual tomb of the emperor himself has yet to be uncovered. Everything out there, everything uncovered thus far and that is able to be visited by tourists to Xi’an today-- that’s just the side dishes. The main course, so to speak, hasn’t even been excavated yet.
Coming up next: The ongoing uncovering of the tomb of Emperor Qin and his Terracotta Army, and the curse that fell upon the families of the tomb’s discoverers. Stay with us.
Welcome back to ArtCurious.
Even though the Terracotta Army and Emperor Qin’s funeral complex was discovered back in the 1970s, the vast majority-- including the main tomb of the emperor himself--has yet to be uncovered. Obviously much of this delay is due to the lack of manpower, of funding, and of the fact that archaeology is slow, methodical work--made even slower by the fact that everything already excavated needs then to be further preserved in order to prevent further damage. But others have noted several further reasons for the painful delays afflicting the Terracotta Warriors site. The first is that, according to both ancient texts describing the tomb complex, and via modern advancements in ground soil testing, there is the possibility that there are two streams of quicksilver mercury in the tomb, meant to represent the flow of the Yangtze and Yellow rivers-- the two longest rivers in China-- and that if true, then uncovering it could expose archeologists to a high amount of this extremely toxic substance. If true, that makes good sense. But there’s another explanation rumored to have hindered excavation here-- and it is related to the protection--and desecration--of sacred burial sites.
Although a large chunk of the population of China considers themselves atheistic today, there is nevertheless a longstanding cultural belief of ancestral worship, a tradition that has deep roots within Chinese society and cultural history. The belief holds that a dead ancestor can affect a living relative’s life in any number of ways, passing on protection or a kind of power from beyond the grave. For example, if one was to properly respect and commemorate one’s ancestors, then chances are better that a person’s life would be prosperous, blessed, and lucky. Conversely, though, failing to pay respect to the deceased could result in a cursed life where the dead will seek vengeance on your wrongdoings.
Going a bit deeper, it’s important to know that the actual burial location of an ancestor is also crucial, because they can be viewed as portals or gateways to another realm, one that is parallel and similar to our own, and is in balance with our own realm of the living. So to keep things in check, cemeteries are traditionally located far away from residential areas to keep the opposing energies from becoming unbalanced. It’s all very complex but can be boiled down to a key maxim: keep your dead close in spirit, but not too close in physical proximity.
Knowing these traditional beliefs helps to shed light on the entirety of the tomb complex. It firstly sheds light as to why China’s First Emperor insisted on a huge complex that mirrored his earthly life-- requiring the same level of pomp, luxury, and devotion that he had experienced while alive.
And he was certainly not alone in this idea: historians have discovered other tombs in China that predate Qin Huangdi’s by approximately 300 years in which there’s evidence that leaders would order the killing of their entire court upon their deaths. I mean, it’s bleak, to be sure, but given this belief system, it would guarantee eternal devotion and servitude. What’s most interesting, though, is that these tombs don’t convey any evidence of violence or murder-- it was simply accepted that a leader’s court would voluntarily follow him to the death. Still, that’s a big ask, even if all your courtiers are willing to toe every line. So this is where things get really exciting, and where the tomb of Emperor Qin really shines. In the period before Qin’s imperial rule, the elite began including small figurines-- usually made of pottery of some kind-- in their tombs as burial objects, essentially requesting that stand-in sculptures be made to represent their loved ones and followers. What a novel concept: have some kind of depiction of your right-hand man included as a symbol of his eternal obeisance rather than requesting that he kill himself. It’s a small thing that was actually a pretty big deal in Chinese burial practices, and one that Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi really took to the next level. Because he didn’t want measly little figurines of his favorite courtiers, oh, no no no. He wanted BIG things. Life-size things. Larger-than-life-size things. An army of soldiers! Horses! Those acrobats! Everything. But this time, with less actual death to accompany it.
That being said, there may be some evidence of actual human remains in the funeral complex, mixing in alongside the Terracotta Soldiers. Historian Sima Qian claims that the emperor did not want his workers to spread word of the immense riches that were being buried in the tomb, so his coterie made a grisly choice. As Qian notes, quote, “after the burial and sealing up of the treasures, the middle gate was shut and the outer gate closed to imprison all the artisans and laborers, so that no one came out.” It was a solution that was apparently meant as a way to deter thieves and grave robbers. But it also added the potential of trapping in the souls of others alongside the Emperor-- and those souls were likely to be disturbed by the unearthing of the tomb itself. And that caused some problems back in 20th century China.
The idea of a cursed tomb has been around for millennia, and again, I’ll hint that we’ll be returning to it later on in this season. For most of us, they are fascinating stories that, if anything, have an air of mystery or perhaps a slight sensation of coincidence about them. But to the farmers who unearthed the first signs of the vast tomb complex of Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi and the Terracotta Warriors, it wasn’t just a story at all. It was a thing to fear immediately, a concern that they held close to their hearts from that moment onward. It was a knowledge that their traditions had been accidentally violated and that the remainder of their earthly lives could really be cursed.
On that fateful day in 1974, the seven men drawn together to dig a well gazed down into the soil at the emerging terracotta figure that they had just uncovered, not knowing of its significance. If anything, they hoped it would be something of enough value that its sale could furnish them with a packet of cigarettes to share. One of them, Yang Quanyi, recalled the struggle to break off the statue’s head with a shovel. When their removal of the terracotta head was finally achieved, the realization that this figure was something special dawned upon them. As he noted, quote, “Everyone was afraid to touch it. We thought it was a temple statue, a buddha perhaps, we were frightened that the Buddha would punish us.” Another farmer, Yang Zhifa, doubted its spiritual or ancestral significance but realized its important archaeological aspects immediately, convincing the others that more excavation was in order. He continued digging and unearthed further terracotta statues, as well as several bronze pieces, and took a few cartfuls of his finds to a local museum. Museum officials correctly identified the works as stemming from the Qin Dynasty and paid Yang Zhifa for his bounty, so they provided him with 30 yuan for the lot-- the equivalent of only a few dollars. Even worse was that because the well diggers had found the terracotta figures on land owned by a farming collective, Yang Zhifa was required to turn over his measly payment to his supervisor, who then provided a portion of it to each of the seven men. That portion for each was, quote, “the equivalent of half a day’s work – or 13 fen (a fen being a hundredth of a yuan [...] that was their entire reward.” Unquote. Now, not only was that reward barely enough for a pack of cigarettes to split amongst them, as they had originally hoped, but this reward would also be the only one they would ever receive for their discovery, one of the most significant archaeological finds of the 20th century. This financial snub has felt like a curse to these seven men, and one that, they claim, still persists today. Once the Chinese government realized the significance of the Terracotta Army and the extent of the funeral complex, the commodification of the site grew. The small villages surrounding the site were demolished not only to allow more room for the ongoing excavation, but also to build a huge museum, gift shop, and restaurant complex a sit that, today, is visited by over a million tourists each year, bringing in roughly 70 million U.S. dollars a year in revenue for the Chinese government ever since it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1987. But all this wealth does little to help the many who work at the site, some of whom make only a couple of dollars per day. As Yuan Quanyi has pointed out, quote, “Officials and businessmen have made a lot of money from the Terracotta Army, but not us.” This financial hardship extends even further to the fact that none of names of those seven original discoverers are noted anywhere in any credit lines or recognition for the archaeological site, a point that the Shaanxi Relic and Cultural Bureau counters with the response, quote, “It is not important who discovered these relics.” Unquote. What little recognition, if any, that the four living discoverers receive, stems solely from when they are able to sell and sign books in the bookshop of the archaeological complex-- something that is often impossible due to the numerous posers who market themselves as the one who “really” found the ancient relics. The streets surrounding the Xi’an museum are frequently lined with men who claim to be the famed farmers, and make a profit off of their false celebrity by giving out their autographs and taking pictures with tourists for tips-all while the original discoverers, at least those still living, struggle with no formal recognition, minimal pay, and the scars of having their original villages and way of life erased. No wonder they feel cursed. As Yuan Quanyi’s wife, Liu Xi Qin, noted to a journalist in 2013, quote, “My husband always worries if they did something wrong by discovering the warriors [...] He is afraid they might have brought misfortune in some way --and does still wonder if maybe the soldiers should have been left beneath the ground.”
Some maintain that the misfortunes long experienced by the seven farmers who discovered the Terracotta Army sits squarely on the shoulders of the Chinese Government for their insensitivity (and, indeed, their outright dismissal) of the men who brought this supremely fascinating archaeological discovery to the world’s attention. But that doesn’t mean that everyone feels that way. There are still many who believe that all of this can be traced back to none other than Qin Shi Huangdi himself, with the Emperor seeking eternal vengeance on the unfortunate souls who dared to disturb his final resting place, his army of thousands, and his quest for immortality.
Coming up in two weeks, it’s a really startling painting made by a guy who typically flourished painting cuddly dogs and majestic elk-- but this particular painting isn’t just a bit shocking: it potentially drives college students out of their mind… and even to their deaths. This is one of my favorite episodes this season, so don’t miss it.
Thank you for listening to the ArtCurious Podcast. This episode was written, produced, and narrated by me, Jennifer Dasal, with additional writing and research help by Jordan McDonough. Our theme music is by Alex Davis at alexdavismusic.com, and our logo is by Dave Rainey at daveraineydesign.com. Our audio production services are provided by Kaboonki, the silliest name in superb podcasts and video. Let them help you too at kaboonki.com. The ArtCurious Podcast is sponsored primarily by Anchorlight. Anchorlight is a creative space, founded with the intent of fostering artists, designers, and craftspeople at varying stages of their development. Home to artist studios, residency opportunities, and exhibition space Anchorlight encourages mentorship and the cross-pollination of skills among creatives in the Triangle. Please visit anchorlightraleigh.com.
The ArtCurious Podcast is also fiscally sponsored by VAE Raleigh, a 501c3 nonprofit creativity incubator. For more details about our show, including the image mentioned in this episode today, please visit our website: artcuriouspodcast.com. We’re also on Twitter and Instagram at artcuriouspod. And we have podcast merchandise! You can support or show that way and get yourself some goodies, like t-shirts, tote bags, notebooks, and more. Check out the link to our TeePublic store in the show notes on this episode, or on our website.
Check back with us in two weeks when we explore the unexpected, slightly odd, and strangely wonderful with potentially cursed art and artifacts.
