Profile:

　　Yang Yang holds a Master’s degree in Fine Arts and serves as a ceramic product designer at Tangshan Boyu Bone China Co., Ltd. He is a National First‑Class Ceramic Product Designer, a Senior Arts and Crafts Master, and an Innovation & Entrepreneurship Mentor under the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology. He has been honored with titles such as Hebei Province Outstanding Contribution Technician, Hebei Province Technical Expert, Tangshan Craftsman, Tangshan City Arts and Crafts Master, and Tangshan City Ceramic Art Master. He also leads a municipal-level Skills Master Workshop. He solved the industry challenge of being unable to throw bone china on the wheel and successfully replicated the Ming Dynasty Chenghua Doucai Chicken Jar Cup, earning high acclaim within the industry. He has won numerous prestigious awards, including the First Prize in the Hand-Throwing Category at the Hebei Province Ceramic Industry Skills Competition and the Top Spot in the Ceramic Wheel Throwing Event at the First Hebei Province Vocational Skills Competition. With more than ten patents to his name—including “A Ceramic Body Punching Device”—and having co-authored works such as “A History of Chinese Arts and Crafts,” he is driving the inheritance and innovative development of Tangshan’s ceramic craftsmanship.

　　 Figure Sketch:

　　At the Tao Zui Pottery Studio of Tangshan Boyu Bone China Co., Ltd. in Kaiping District, Tangshan, the lingering warmth of the kiln fire had yet to fade. Yang Yang bent low over the potter’s wheel, his hands gently resting on the smooth, warm clay. As the machine spun, the once-loose lump of clay gradually took shape in the palms of his hands—his fingertips applied light pressure to set the form, the heels of his palms slowly lifted to sculpt the contours, and the pads of his fingers made subtle adjustments to the curves. In just two minutes, a pristine, elegantly curved chicken jar cup emerged, perfectly formed. This Tangshan artisan, born in 1989, has spent more than a decade in dialogue with clay, cracking the industry’s longstanding challenges in bone china wheel throwing and successfully recreating the Ming Dynasty Chenghua-era Doucai Chicken Jar Cup—a piece valued at tens of millions. With his unparalleled skills, he has risen to become a “top-tier” craftsman in Hebei’s ceramics scene. From being a frustrated candidate who failed three times to gain admission to the Central Academy of Fine Arts, to earning the title of Outstanding Technician in Hebei Province and becoming a Tangshan Craftsman, Yang Yang’s life journey is like the clay in his hands: forged in the blazing heat of the kiln and tempered by unwavering dedication, it has been fired into its most authentic form.

From “Shattered Art School Dreams” to “Rooted in the Mud”: An Unexpected Encounter with Ceramics

　　Yang Yang’s journey into ceramics began with a “passive choice.” For three years in high school, he staked everything on getting into the Central Academy of Fine Arts—practicing sketching at dawn and refining his color techniques late into the night. After repeating a year for three consecutive years, his best score was just over 100 points in the professional entrance exam, but he ended up failing to meet the cutoff due to an insufficient score in English alone. That summer of 2010, in the dead of night when his parents once again erupted into a heated argument over college applications, this stubborn young man from Tangshan finally gave in: “I’m not going to repeat a year—I’ll just apply wherever I can.”

　　On his family’s advice, he applied for the Art and Design program at Hebei Polytechnic University (which merged in 2010 to form Hebei United University and was renamed North China University of Science and Technology in 2015). He had originally hoped to continue pursuing his dream of painting oil paintings, but after enrolling, he discovered that his major had been reconfigured as Ceramic Design. “At the time, I felt extremely resistant—and I even considered dropping out and retaking the college entrance exam,” Yang Yang recalls. Looking back on that period, he admits that his initial understanding of ceramics was limited to “bowls, plates, and vases,” and he had never imagined that it would become the career of his lifetime.

Yang Yang is doing pottery shaping.

　　The change came about by chance. When the department head noticed his keen interest in hands‑on creation, he introduced him to a renowned local pottery master in Tangshan. The first time Yang Yang stepped into the master’s studio, he was immediately captivated by the spinning potter’s wheel and the smooth, warm clay. Watching the old master’s nimble hands dance across the clay, shaping a lump of earth into a delicate vessel, he suddenly realized that this kind of creative work—so intimately connected with the earth—possessed a vitality far greater than the colors on a canvas. “In that moment, it felt as if I had found a new path,” Yang Yang said. He immediately called the department head, abandoned his idea of dropping out, and plunged headfirst into the world of ceramics.

　　When learning ceramics, you start by kneading the clay. What may seem like a simple task actually involves a great deal of skill—getting the right balance of moisture and dryness, eliminating air bubbles, and controlling the clay’s softness and firmness—all of which require you to rely on your hands to sense and adjust. “The teacher bought three or four tons of clay and piled it up in the studio, and I spent every single day from morning till night kneading it,” Yang Yang recalls. On his first day, he kneaded nearly three tons of clay, his arms so sore he could barely lift them; by the second day, his shoulders were so swollen he couldn’t even put on his clothes—but still, he felt energized from head to toe.

　　“The exhilaration of finally feeling the clay beneath my fingers overwhelmed all my fatigue,” Yang Yang said. Amid this monotonous repetition, he gradually came to understand the “temperament” of pottery clay: porcelain clay is fine and delicate, while earthenware clay is rough and rugged—each type of clay feels utterly different in the hand. Only by truly internalizing this tactile experience can one achieve effortless control when throwing on the wheel. “Kneading clay is like learning to walk: if you try to run before you can walk, you’re bound to stumble and fall.” Today, Yang Yang often shares this saying with his students; he knows full well that these seemingly tedious fundamentals are, in fact, the very foundation of ceramic art.

　　During his university years, Yang Yang’s life was completely consumed by ceramics: after classes at 3:00 p.m., he’d take the bus to his studio and work there until late at night; he didn’t go home during winter or summer breaks, staying in the studio to practice wheel throwing and firing kilns. From shaping tiny teacups and bowls to experimenting with larger vessels, his skills steadily improved through countless failures and restarts. “The pieces I made back then look quite rough now, but each one is filled with heartfelt dedication,” Yang Yang said with a smile. It was precisely that period of pure, focused time that forged an unbreakable bond between him and clay.

Breaking the Impasse and Recreating: Bringing Bone China “to Life” and Reviving Ancient Porcelain

　　Tangshan bone china is renowned nationwide, yet it has an industry‑recognized “deadlock” — the bone ash content in bone china can reach 40% or even higher. Because it contains a large proportion of non‑plastic raw materials, its shaping performance is extremely poor, leading the industry to long hold the belief that “bone china cannot be thrown on the wheel.”

　　“It’s all just mud—why can the others pull it off, but not this one?” Yang Yang, a newcomer to the industry, simply refused to accept that. He dove deep into research, spending two whole years on it.

　　He spent countless hours in the lab, repeatedly tweaking the formula and adding highly plastic clay to the bone china body, gradually increasing its toughness. The most frustrating issue was cracking: “The pieces looked perfectly fine after being thrown the day before, but as soon as I touched them during the trimming process the next day, they’d crack. Sometimes, by the time the kiln finished firing, all that was left were shards of broken porcelain.” He had lost count of how many times he’d failed, but Yang Yang meticulously recorded every single batch’s formula, humidity, and temperature in a notebook—until he finally found the perfect balance: by precisely adjusting the clay ratios, he managed to give the bone china body the plasticity needed for wheel throwing.

Yang Yang is inspecting the quality of the work.

　　This breakthrough even drew professors from universities who made a special trip to collect the “clay” for verification. “They couldn’t believe that bone china could be thrown on the wheel—after they took it back to fire, they kept saying, ‘We never would’ve guessed!’” Yang Yang said with a smile. Behind the shattering of conventional wisdom lie countless late nights spent by the kiln, and layer upon layer of calluses worn smooth on their hands.

　　What truly cemented Yang Yang’s position in the industry was the 2017 commission to replicate the Ming Chenghua Doucai Chicken Jar Cup. At the time, a museum in Beijing was searching for artisans capable of recreating the Chicken Jar Cup—a national treasure that had fetched a staggering 280 million yuan at auction. With only 19 surviving examples in existence, replicating this masterpiece was akin to “dancing on the tip of a needle.” Yang Yang’s proposal stood out among more than 60 competitors, but even after landing the order, he couldn’t shake his doubts.

　　“The base color of the Chicken Tank Cup is duck‑egg blue—when we fire it, it either leans toward white or toward blue; no matter how we fire the chicks’ feather colors, they just can’t match the vividness of the real thing.” Yang Yang and his team first used 3D scanning to accurately replicate the Chicken Tank Cup’s dimensions and thickness, then sourced the same type of clay from Jingdezhen and hand‑formed the body on the wheel. After applying the glaze and firing, kiln after kiln, over the first 50 kilns and more than a thousand finished pieces, not a single one met the required standard.

　　He transformed the rectangular kiln into a trapezoidal design, added both side‑opening and top‑opening double lids, and adjusted the firing rhythm—slow simmering over low heat in the early stages, followed by a fierce blast of high heat in the later stages. To perfect the glaze color, he combed through ancient texts, consulted with veteran artisans, and even conducted trial firings on different batches of glaze, meticulously documenting his findings in more than a dozen detailed notebooks. In March 2018, nearly a year after receiving the order, he brought the newly fired Jigang cups to the museum for delivery. As the experts took the cups in their hands and carefully stroked them again and again, one of them remarked, “These are even more beautiful than the real thing!”

Yang Yang is conducting theoretical instruction on wheel throwing.

　　Each of these meticulously replicated Jihong cups can fetch 5,000 to 6,000 yuan, and from that moment on, Yang Yang’s name became a golden brand synonymous with “replicating ancient porcelain.” Yang Yang didn’t rest on his laurels; instead, he integrated modern technology into traditional porcelain making: his ceramic lighting fixtures can be controlled via an app to adjust light colors, while his ceramic crafts combine a Bluetooth speaker and a desk lamp in one, breathing new life and contemporary warmth into time‑honored ceramics. Today, his company boasts annual sales exceeding one million yuan, with products ranging from everyday tableware to cultural and creative items, spanning multiple stages of the ceramic industry chain.

Winning Gold on the Field and Preserving Artistic Craftsmanship: Pursuing Perfection with Every Minuscule Effort, Undergoing Thousands of Trials.

　　In Yang Yang’s list of honors, awards from skill competitions large and small account for half of his achievements—first place in the Ceramic Wheel Throwing category at the 4th Tangshan City Vocational Skills Competition in 2021; first place in the “Ceramic Wheel Throwing” event at the 1st Hebei Province Vocational Skills Competition in 2023; first prize in the Hebei Province Preliminary Round of the National Industrial Design Competition in 2025… Behind each medal lies a relentless pursuit of precision, where every millimeter matters.

　　In 2023, the first Hebei Provincial Vocational Skills Competition kicked off with the Ceramic Hand-Throwing event, and Yang Yang represented Tangshan City in the competition. Before the contest, when he learned that his opponents included not only seasoned veteran artisans but also competitors who utilized 3D printing technology, many people couldn’t help but worry for him. “While machine precision is undeniably high, the feel of working with your hands is something you hone through day after day of practice,” Yang Yang said. Rather than feeling intimidated, he began preparing three months in advance.

　　It was March, and with no heating in the studio, Yang Yang would practice wheel throwing every day in just a short-sleeved shirt—because when shaping large pieces, his arms had to be fully immersed in the clay, and bulky clothing would only get in the way. His hands were soaked in cold water, and the clay had chafed his arms raw, yet he didn’t even notice; he’d practice until ten o’clock every night, using more than two tons of clay in the process. The competition required participants to create a 300‑ml teapot, with wall thickness carefully controlled at around two millimeters—and they also had to incorporate elements of Hebei’s cultural heritage. Relying on years of honed tactile sensitivity, Yang Yang could sense the exact thickness of the clay even with his eyes closed. He carved a relief of the Great Wall into the base of the teapot and designed the teapot knob in the shape of the arch of Zhaozhou Bridge, seamlessly blending Hebei’s iconic landmarks with the art of ceramics.

　　In the end, his work not only exceeded the required precision in terms of dimensions but also won first place in the competition thanks to its unique design and exquisite craftsmanship. When the judges used calipers to measure and found that the teapot’s capacity was spot on—down to the last drop—they couldn’t help but marvel, even the 3D printing competitors exclaimed, “Made by hand—more accurate than a machine!” Yang Yang said that at that moment, he became even more convinced that traditional skills are far from being “old relics”; as long as they’re carefully honed with dedication, they can shine brightly on the modern stage.

Passing on the flame, keeping the kiln fires burning and preserving the artisan’s dedication forever.

　　“Once a master passes their craft down to me, I have a duty to pass it on.” Today, Yang Yang is not only a highly skilled potter but also the leader of the Yang Yang Skills Master Studio in Tangshan City, bearing the heavy responsibility of preserving and passing on ceramic artistry. His criteria for accepting apprentices are simple: diligence and passion. “Today’s young people can’t handle hardship—I need to help them fall in love with clay first, and then we can talk about technique.”

Yang Yang demonstrates the technique of throwing large pieces on the wheel.

　　His apprentice, Han Qing, is a slender young woman who, when she first began learning wheel throwing, couldn’t even lift a clay blank weighing several dozen jin. Rather than rushing to teach her technical skills, Yang Yang had her start by kneading and moving clay, gradually tempering her impatient nature. Half a year later, Han Qing finally mastered the essentials of wheel throwing and went on to win third place in the ceramic wheel-throwing category at the Tangshan City Vocational Skills Competition, becoming a relatively well-known young artisan in the industry. “Seeing my apprentice win an award makes me happier than if I had won one myself,” Yang Yang said. He added that this sense of accomplishment felt just like the joy his own teacher had experienced when watching him grow.

　　In his teaching, Yang Yang emphasizes the “integration of tradition and innovation.” He not only requires students to master the fundamental skills of clay kneading, wheel throwing, and kiln firing, but also encourages them to leverage modern technologies such as computer-aided design and 3D printing to breathe new life into traditional ceramics. “Among my apprentices are both university students and university professors; they bring fresh ideas to their creative work, and that’s a great thing,” Yang Yang believes. He sees传承 (inheritance) not as rigid adherence to established conventions, but as continuous innovation built upon a firm grounding in one’s roots.

　　In addition to mentoring apprentices, Yang Yang also goes into schools, serving as a part-time instructor at the School of Light Industry at North China University of Science and Technology, where he teaches ceramic design courses to students. He has transformed his studio into a research and learning base, allowing children to personally experience the joy of kneading clay and wheel-throwing, sowing the seeds of ceramic culture. “Tangshan’s ceramic culture has a history spanning hundreds of years—it must not be allowed to die out in our generation,” says Yang Yang. He hopes that more young people will fall in love with this craft, ensuring that the kilns of the Northern Porcelain Capital continue to burn brightly forever.

Yang Yang is working on a ceramic relief.

　　Yang Yang is engaged in ceramic relief sculpture. In addition, he has contributed to the compilation of works such as “A History of Chinese Arts and Crafts” and “Visual Marketing for E‑Commerce,” and he leads the provincial Social Sciences Federation project titled “Strategic Research on Leveraging Skill Master Workshops to Promote High‑Quality Development of Ceramic Culture and Creativity in Hebei Province.” By transforming his own experience into theory, he enables more people to gain a deeper understanding of ceramic techniques. Today, his Skill Master Workshop has become a cradle for cultivating ceramic talent in Tangshan, where wave after wave of young artisans are emerging and flourishing.

Molding clay into a heart—clay has its own inherent strength; people have their original aspirations.

　　“Look at the clay in my hands—though it seems passive, it actually has its own inherent strength and character. Add too much water and it’ll collapse; apply too much force and it’ll crack. How much this mirrors our lives: we need to go with the flow and know when to advance and when to retreat.” These are words Yang Yang often repeats. After more than a decade spent alongside earthenware, ceramics have long since become a part of his very being—when the piece collapses during wheel-throwing, he doesn’t discard it; instead, he kneads the clay anew, allowing the material to grow ever more resilient through repeated shaping and pressing. When imperfections arise during firing, he doesn’t dwell on his disappointment—he turns those flaws into an integral part of the design. He believes, “Imperfections are the norm; perfection is the unexpected—this, after all, is the true warmth of handmade craftsmanship.”

　　From a frustrated young man who had repeated his studies three times, to a ceramic master who now holds more than a dozen patents and has won dozens of awards, Yang Yang’s life is like the porcelain he fires—having endured cracking and deformation in the blazing kiln, yet ultimately taking shape and shining through steadfast perseverance.

　　At Tao Zui Pottery Studio, a new batch of clay blanks is waiting to be fired. Yang Yang scoops up a handful of earth he just sourced from the suburbs; the sunlight falls on his shoulders and also on the smooth, warm clay. “Ceramics are a non-renewable resource—and an irreplaceable cultural heritage,” Yang Yang says. All he can do is stay by this lump of clay, keep watch over the kiln fire, and ensure that the story of Tangshan ceramics continues to be told.