Found on a Fujian stone-carver’s bench
Michael Zhan first saw this piece during a procurement visit to a small workshop on the outskirts of Quanzhou in late spring. The carver, a third-generation jade worker, had set aside a handful of miniature gōng shí — each no taller than a palm — aiming to capture the eroded silhouette of a mountain in a single hand-sized stone. Michael spent the better part of an afternoon turning each rock in his hands, checking for the tiny fissures that can make jade unstable and assessing how light played across the surface.
The stone itself is a pale celadon jade, the colour of winter river-ice, with a faint cloud-like inclusion that shifts when you rotate it. The base is a dark hardwood — probably zǐtán — carved with a subtle wave pattern that anchors the rock without distracting from its line. Because the tray companion sits in the splash zone of a gongfu tea session, Michael insisted on a water-resistant finish for the base, and the carver applied multiple coats of natural lacquer.
Every piece from this batch carries a card with the carver’s signature and the date of selection. Michael personally signs off on each one before it leaves the Fuzhou consolidation centre. This is the quietest object on the tray, but it draws the eye more than anything else.