HUISHUI, China, Sep 25 – With steady hands and a pair of scissors, Lu Yijun trims a bright red square of paper into delicate patterns. An inheritor of China’s intangible cultural heritage of papercutting, the 53-year-old master carries forward a craft that has endured for more than 2,000 years, its roots tracing back to Shanxi Province in northern China.
In a remote village on the outskirts of Guiyang, the capital of Guizhou Province, a delegation of Kenyan journalists was welcomed into Lu’s workshop for a cultural exchange session — an invitation to step into the world of the Buyi ethnic minority and learn the intricacies of their ancient tradition.
For Lu, who has practiced papercutting for nearly two decades, the art form is far more than decoration.
“It is a way of life for the ethnic minority peoples,” he says with quiet pride. “And it is also how we pass this art on to the next generation.”
From his modest workshop, tucked between centuries-old wooden houses, Lu not only teaches but also exhibits his works. The age-old skill is finding fresh resonance here — embraced by cultural enthusiasts, championed by local authorities, and increasingly picked up by young people who see in it a bridge between heritage, livelihood, and creativity.
Paper-cut artwork by Lu Yijun, on display in his Huishui workshop/CFM
I found myself seated in Lu’s workshop, gripping a pair of small steel scissors, a square of red paper between my fingers. Like my fellow delegates, I was both eager and apprehensive. After all, impressing a master was no small feat, though Lu’s calm demeanor softened the pressure.
Paper-cut artwork by Lu Yijun, on display in his Huishui workshop, showcasing the Buyi people’s centuries-old craft of transforming simple paper into elaborate geometric and floral patterns/CFM
The scissors clicked nervously as I made my first tentative cuts. Around me, the room buzzed with laughter and concentration. My colleagues unfolded their creations — crooked flowers, shredded scraps, uneven stars — each greeted by Lu’s patient encouragement. When I finally opened my own folded square, an imperfect flower emerged.
“It doesn’t need to be flawless,” he reassured those of us disheartened by our clumsy attempts. “The meaning is in the hands that made it.”
Beside me, a colleague labored over her design, unwilling to concede. Sheets of red paper rustled as each of the twenty-eight delegates revealed their personal attempt. Lu urged us to try again, generously providing extra sheets of paper and reminding us that practice was the only path to mastery.
Yet papercutting was only one window into the Buyi people’s world. Earlier, a tour of the village led us into a dimly lit workshop, where an artisan introduced us to their traditional painting craft. Here, pigments are not store-bought but painstakingly mixed from tree extracts and oil pressed from local oaks. With these earthy hues, artists paint intricate motifs onto fabric, transforming plain cloth into ornate table coverings.
A Buyi woman carefully paints intricate motifs onto fabric using natural pigments made from tree extracts and oak oil — a centuries-old tradition that transforms plain cloth into vibrant works of cultural heritage/CFM
Our hosts explained the symbolism: fish for abundance, food for prosperity, and mythical beasts for protection. Each brushstroke was deliberate, part of a process that could take up to a week. “About one week,” a smiling artisan told us when asked through our interpreter Zheng Haoze, her answer reflecting not haste but a philosophy rooted in patience.
The Buyi people’s artistry extends beyond scissors and brushes, into their textiles and attire. Women’s garments are handwoven and dyed with natural indigo, creating deep blue tones accented with embroidery along hems, collars, and cuffs. The motifs — floral, geometric, and symbolic — speak of prosperity, fertility, and harmony with nature.
Men traditionally wear indigo jackets and trousers, simple yet subtly embroidered. For festivals, both men and women adorn themselves with silver jewelry — necklaces, earrings, and hair ornaments — believed to ward off evil and invite good fortune. Everyday textiles, from sashes to headscarves, are infused with meaning and often passed down as treasured heirlooms. Each piece of clothing is more than attire; it is a living canvas of Buyi identity.
The cultural immersion extended to cuisine. In a courtyard outside Lu’s workshop, we partook of a lavish Buyi lunch laid out across a giant table. Familiar staples like boiled corn and red sweet potatoes sat alongside unfamiliar local specialties — pickled vegetables, hearty stews, and rice delicacies — each dish reflecting the region’s resourcefulness.
Familiar staples like boiled corn and red sweet potatoes sat alongside unfamiliar local specialties/CFM
The real challenge, however, was not the food but the cutlery. Chopsticks were the only utensils on offer, sparking a wave of laughter as colleagues improvised techniques — some clutching both sticks in one hand, others splitting them between two hands in frantic attempts to master the art of lifting morsels.
Capital News Online Editor Jeremiah Wakaya tests his chopstick skills during a traditional Buyi lunch in Huishui County, Guizhou Province/Leah Mukangai
Our day in Huishui unfolded like a journey through time — from the rhythm of traditional folksongs at our welcome, to the snip of scissors in Lu’s workshop, to the patient brushstrokes of the painters, and finally the clatter of chopsticks over shared meals.
By the end, the barriers of culture and language had dissolved. For a moment, we were not just visitors, but participants in a living tradition — one that continues to endure, evolve, and connect strangers across continents.