Some Chinese objects found in a shipwreck came from a Changsha kiln that produced objects made from the region's reddish clay during a time when pure-hued porcelain was most revered, report Yang Feiyue and He Chun in Changsha.

For over a millennium, the hull of the Arab merchant ship Batu Hitam lay silent on the seabed off Indonesia's Belitung Island. When salvagers raised it from the depths in 1998, they solved one historical riddle only to uncover a far more compelling one. The 9th-century Arab vessel delivered a stunning catalog of ancient global commerce: more than 67,000 pieces of Chinese objects, mostly porcelain.

Yet, the most arresting detail was not the sheer volume but the improbable origin of the hoard. Approximately 85 percent of those porcelain items could be traced not to any celebrated coastal kiln, but to the inland hills of Central China's Hunan province.

Why would the world's most coveted ceramics, destined for the wealthy markets of the ancient world, emerge from such an obscure, landlocked workshop? The answer lies in the vibrant, pragmatic, and astonishingly cosmopolitan porcelain of the Changsha kiln.

Today, 162 pieces salvaged from that very wreck are displayed at the Changsha Tongguan Kiln Museum in the provincial capital's Wangcheng district.

They tell the story of how an inland kiln rewrote the rules of global trade and changed the aesthetic landscape of Chinese ceramics. "To understand the rise of the Changsha kiln, one must first appreciate the monumental challenge it faced," says Yang Lei, a senior staff member at the museum.

The Tang Dynasty (618-907) ceramic world was dominated by what scholars call the "Nan Qing Bei Bai" (Southern Green, Northern White), a duopoly of exquisite taste and technical mastery. The Yue kilns in Zhejiang province produced celadon of serene, jade-like purity, while the Xing and Ding kilns in Hebei perfected a fine, snow-white porcelain.

"For the kilns in Changsha, competing on their terms was an impossible dream,"Yang says in front of a display to compare the different clay bodies.

He points to examples: the fine, pale stoneware of the north; the smooth, refined clay of the south; and the Changsha material — distinctly more granular and tinged with a reddish-brown hue.

"The local clay from the hills is ironrich. It's a heavier pottery clay, not the pure porcelain stone you find in Jingdezhen (Jiangxi province)," he explains, adding that trying to compete with the perfect white or flawless green of its counterparts was a losing battle.

Faced with this material "disadvantage", Changsha potters made a revolutionary choice: if they could not win in the realm of monochrome perfection, they would invent a new realm altogether. They then embarked on a path of radical innovation, pioneering underglaze polychrome painting.

Before the final glaze was applied, artisans began painting intricate designs directly onto the absorbent clay, using pigments derived from minerals: iron for a rich amber brown, copper for vibrant green or elusive flashes of copper-red in a masterstroke of pyrotechnic control that created precise reducing conditions.

"They would then envelop the entire piece in a layer of clear, slightly yellowish-green glaze and fire it at over 1,100 C,"Yang continues.

The final colors, protected by the glossy glaze, emerged luminous, durable, and fade-resistant. A simple brown bird on a bowl became eternally perched, while a green landscape on a ewer was frozen in energetic bloom.

This breakthrough shattered the aristocratic ideal of serene monochrome and embraced a more expressive and visually exciting aesthetic.

Changsha's colored porcelain is a unique presence in the history of Chinese ceramics, notes Li Jianmao, professor with the College of History and Culture, Hunan Normal University. "In ancient times, especially before the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368), the mainstream aesthetic valued the color of glaze above all else, with jade-like hues being most revered. Changsha porcelain, however, blazed a new trail for color," Li says.

The Batu Hitam provides irrefutable proof of this colorful revolution's commercial triumph.

Among the museum displays, one humble bowl carries monumental historical weight. Inscribed is a line of words that experts have decoded as a complete 9th-century commercial label, stating place of origin (Shizhu, Hunan), marketplace (Caoshi), product type (Yuzi, a bowl), a quality claim (youming, or top-quality), and a brand signature (the Fan family).

"This proves an incredibly sophisticated level of commercial organization," says Chen Kuang, an official with Wangcheng district's cultural affairs.

"These potters were brand-conscious manufacturers," Chen explains, adding that this legacy secures Changsha's place in the story of the Maritime Silk Road.

While coastal ports were the gateways, Changsha stands as a powerful testament that the engines of this global trade could be fired deep inland, fueled by innovation and mass production, she says.

This commercial triumph, as Li, the professor, notes, was no accident.

Because it differed from the mainstream aesthetic, Changsha's colored porcelain was initially largely aimed at the overseas market, Li says. This outward focus demanded a savvy, client-oriented strategy.

Yang, with the museum, says, "They had two clear lines. One for the domestic market, and the other for export, involving production based on clients' provided designs."

He indicates a globular pot adorned with applique palm-leaf medallions. "These are yezao wen (date palm motifs), native to the Middle East. This vessel was probably made for a Western Asian buyer," he says.

Many items from the museum's collection showcase this global dialogue, with bowls featuring Arabic script, ewers featuring Central Asian dancers, and figurines of the Buddhist Makara sea monster, believed to protect sailors.

Beyond adaptation, their most ingenious innovation was embedding emotional value through poetry. In a golden age of verse, Changsha potters inscribed short, accessible poems onto their wares, such as the famous verse, "You were born before I was, I was born when you were already old…," which transformed functional objects into vessels of shared sentiment.

"These poems were the popular lyrics of their time," Yang reflects, adding that they were the voices of common people.

Chen Shangjun, a professor at Fudan University, notes that Changsha kiln poems can be read as the most popular poetry anthology of Tang folkloric poetry and as a vivid window into people's emotions in that era.

These heartfelt verses, often excluded from the official literary canon and later dubbed "the Orphans of Tang Poetry", were part of a unique formal innovation.

Experts emphasize that it was precisely the colored painting technology originally used for export ceramics and its combination with Chinese poetry that secured the Changsha kiln's historical significance.

The kiln's prolific output waned after the Tang Dynasty. Because the kilns produced cheaper daily wares, historical records about them were rare, explains Qu Wei, the museum's curator.

The site, littered with fragments, was forgotten for centuries. Today, that legacy is vigorously revived, thanks to societal attention and the ancient techniques that are still practiced, Qu states.

The museum anchors a broader effort to foster a model that integrates ceramics, cultural creation, and tourism. Visitors can now encounter the Changsha kilns in unexpected forms.

Augmented reality-enabled refrigerator magnets, for instance, allow anyone to scan a code with a smartphone and watch a digital story about the artifact it depicts, blending a physical souvenir with immersive storytelling. The kiln's iconic motifs, including playful animal figurines and elegant date palm patterns, reappear on archaeological "blind boxes", trendy coffee packaging, and even as cute mascot characters designed for social media.

This new wave of cultural and creative products bearing ancient designs has fused historical elements with a distinct local character, Yang notes.

Designs might incorporate the narrative of the Batu Hitam shipwreck alongside symbols of Wangcheng district, creating a unique hybrid that is both globally resonant and deeply rooted in its hometown, he adds.

The museum administration feels the new designs represent a "full circle", as the Changsha kilns looked outward to the world for inspiration a thousand years ago, and now look inward to its own profound history.

"It shows that you don't need to be on the coast to connect with the world. You need the courage to turn a constraint into an innovation, the wisdom to listen to other cultures, and the heart to put something deeply human into an everyday object. That's what travels, and that's what lasts," Yang says.

Contact the writers at yangfeiyue@chinadaily.com.cn