This week I felt like choosing a feast to draw – I have never tackled feathers before, so I was itching to test my new range of pencils on the burst of textures and colours in this jianzi and was happy to be rewarded with a very enjoyable experience.

A jianzi is a Chinese shuttlecock, used in several ways across different countries under a variety of names. Nowadays, jianzis tend to be a cheap and cheerful neon-coloured affair, but they used to be made with real, natural feathers. I had initially intended to draw this rather lovely (albeit balding) one from the late 19th Century but will admit the exuberance of the feathers on this one led me hopelessly astray.

Having only seen quite plain ones before, this jianzi stood out especially as I was browsing through the collection of the National History Museum of Taiwan (which also yielded our plump, wobbly strongman a few weeks back). We are not given much information about it, other than it being from the period ‘1965-present’ – the provenance, the maker, and the exact date are unknown.

The origins of jianzi are ancient – it is thought to derive from the game of cuju, a game in which a ball is kicked into a net, not dissimilar to modern-day football (or soccer). The earliest known mention of cuju is from the 2nd-3rd C BC, in which it is referred to as part of military training, though there are later depictions of both women and men playing it in a leisurely setting, from different social backgrounds. Jianzi is not a ball, but it is kicked in the same way as what is known as a ‘footbag’ or hacky sack. In China, it is mostly played either as a sort of duel between two people, or in a circle with 5 to 10 players.

In Malaysia and Singapore, it is known as capteh or chapteh, and is played by children as a kind of lead up to playing sepak raga or sepak takraw, in which a very light ball made out of rattan is used (though now often made out of plastic).

In Korea the version of jianzi is called jegichagi and it is made out of paper or plastic in the shape of a shuttlecock, traditionally weighted with a coin.

One of the things that I like especially about jianzi is that it is played by people of all ages. Children start getting to grips with it early (see this demonstration of some rather fancy coordinated work, including using it together with a hula hoop) and then continue perfecting their skills until they reach a ripe old age (take a look at this man in Singapore, who is well into his eighties and continues to play chapteh daily, or at these two jianzi experts – the older one is really quite something to watch.)

It’s also a versatile plaything, a bit like a ball. You can play catch with a ball, but you can also play a football match; in the same way, you can kick a jianzi about for a few minutes to while away the time, or you can engage in some sportier versions of the game.  

I also like that they are used outdoors, in a public display of dexterity. They offer a perfect excuse to show off, to oneself or to others (alone or with a sidekick or two) and provide an acceptable manifestation of what might, in any other context, be considered obsessive. And here again, like with so many other games, repetitive movements are the key. We set ourselves a challenge – can we improve on our last record? How many can we do now? And we delightedly aaah! and oooh!, eyebrows shooting up and eyes popping out when we are treated to the spectacle of someone who keeps it in the air forever and ever.

I came across this interesting photograph of children playing jianzi/shuttlecock (we are told, though I cannot make out the object itself) in San Francisco’s old Chinatown in the late 19thC-early 20thC. It was taken by Berlin-born photographer Arnold Genthe.

[This led me to my main detour of the week. The California Historical Society shows a little selection of Genthe’s photographs, and includes some interesting commentary reflecting on his role in how Chinese immigrants are perceived, and how the fact he often concealed his camera means he “was essentially surveilling the Chinese and retained the power to define them”.

I also enjoyed the picture of this toy peddler pushing along two wheel-along toys: the children’s faces in curious half-frowns, observing the little objects as they trundle along – do they want one? These photos constitute some of the only remaining images of the area prior to the big earthquake in 1906. Genthe would also record the earthquake, and eventually go on to take pictures of Greta Garbo, Isadora Duncan and Theodore Roosevelt, among many other famous names].

I wonder whether this particular jianzi was ever used – it seems too lovely to do so, but these look a bit like rooster feathers, so it is unlikely that these were too hard to come by. Iridescence always makes things seem dressed up, but perhaps my city-dweller credentials are showing here, and I am simply taken with the rich, gaudy colours that nature often provides. I like the idea of sticking feathers onto things to make them lighter, to make them float in the air like birds, defying gravity.

There are tutorials online to make a homemade jianzi, and I am inclined to make one and practise with my children. It’s your turn now, I’ll keep count.