The story of Phu Lang’s survival as a traditional pottery village is an endearing one, to walk through this picturesque village is a pleasure in itself.
Thanks to the abundance of the necessary raw materials in the area – water, firewood and clay – while the world has been changing elsewhere, Phu Lang has quietly gone about its business.
Compared to the busy streets of Bat Trang village, Phu Lang village is quiet and rather deserted.
Besides the skillful hands of the village craftsmen, the power of Phu Lang products is hidden in the cooking process – a secret recipe if you will.
Terracotta here is still baked with traditional firing wood, not by gas or electricity like other pottery villages. Pots are placed into a kiln at 600 degrees centigrade, then cooked as the temperature rises to around 1,200 degrees. After the clay has been removed and cooled off, a coat of thick eel-skin enamel is used to give the brown clay its unique tint.
The forefather of Phu Lang terracotta was Hua Vinh Cau, a mandarin who served under the Ly dynasty in the 12th century.
Cau was appointed ambassador to China. During his time there he learnt to make terracotta pottery and when he returned he taught the locals in his home village of Phu Lang.
The technique has not changed much over the years and today in Phu Lang people go about their work with a quiet flair. Strolling past houses you can see the clay being kneaded or coated with glaze. A young girl I watch creates perfectly formed pots and vases with no mould. Others are outside arranging goods to be sold.
Watching the craft workers is near hypnotic. A beautiful young woman called Thu who has movie-star looks, concentrates on shaping a jar-to-be. Her elegant style means only her hands seem to get dirty. She is wearing a fashionable white blouse, which is unblemished.
With merely a cloth and a bowl of water, she ploughs on. She finishes the jug then starts to make flower vases. I watch as she makes ten in a row. At the end her blouse remains spotless.
Thu is considered by her fellow villagers as somewhat of a natural potter. But she only sees it as a side trade. She plans to go to university and expresses an interest in studying accounting.
I’m happy to hear her dreams, though I can’t help but wonder if she is one of many young people, who would rather head to the city for study and work, than stay in Phu Lang and pursue pottery as a career.
In another workshop I meet Mai, a 30 year-old, who smiles as she makes flowerpots for export to South Korea.
“I can knead around 40 to 60 flowerpots a day,” she says. This would earn her about VND50,000 for a daily wage. Not much for such outstanding ability but she seems content with her job.
“I’ve loved playing with clay since I was young,” she says. “So I can sit making pottery all day, all month, even all year long, without getting tired.”
Besides traditional products such as vases and pots, more innovative pieces with decorative patterns are also made in Phu Lang.
“These more modern-styled items cost more but I still love to make the traditional ones. I want to maintain our family’s line of work,” says Pham Van Tinh, a 67 year old craftsman who owns a workshop.
The more traditional products are less lucrative but Tinh has regular orders from Japan and South Korea for his more plain products.
When I visit his workshop, his entire family is busy making an order for hundreds of 80cm by 30cm flowerpots for a client in South Korea.
Each pot costs VND90,000 and Tinh will make just VND10,000-15,000 on each one. But large contracts are helping him save enough money to enlarge his workshop as well as put money aside for his daughter’s education.
With over 60 years of experience, Tinh says he considers this line of work as a way of life rather than a way of getting rich.
“It’s enough to sustain our lives,” he says. “Plus, I feel satisfied with my work.”
Tinh’s daughter, Dung, is a second-year architect student and wishes her parents were more dynamic about the business in terms of creativity.
“My parents want to make traditional products but I wish we would create more unique products,” she says. “It would bring in more money as well as create good conditions to preserve this ancient tradition.”
Dung uses her month-long summer holidays to help her parents out at the workshop.
“I’ve seen how hard my parents work for such a low income. I want to help so they can have a comfortable retirement,” she says.
But Phu Lang is a traditional craft village that has held out until now and I expect that the majority of the craftsmen are happy with the sustainability of their chosen trade. After all, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.