Monday, July 27, 2026

Colourisation of Joseph Rock's photos

 I've been busy colourising photos this last week, inbetween writing up my revisions for the book about my Yellow River trip last year. As well as Joseph Rock's photos Ive also been dipping into archives of other photos from southwest China of that era. There are some great collections by people like Carter Holton, who lived in Gansu in the 1930s, and Harrison Forman, an American journalist who travelled along the Yellow River and tibet in the 1930s and 40s. 

I might post some of their photos later, but for now here's a few from the Rock collection. 


 Animal collecting. 


Rock and other westerners at the Lijiang landing strip.


 Muli noble.

Saturday, July 18, 2026

Drombo - the genial headman of Yulongxi, near Gonga Shan


 I recently revisited Yulongxi, where the descendents of Drombo now run a nice guesthouse.

Monday, July 13, 2026

Buddhist monk, Yongning, by Joseph Rock from 1925

 Colourised photos by Joseph Rock from 1925: this one is I think of a Buddhist monk with two armed bodyguards (to protect against bandits) who Rock encountered travelling from Muli to Yongning.


 This is the original:

Colourised photos of 1925 Yunnan and Sichuan

 I made a short video montage of the photos of Joseph Rock that I colourised. Theyre mostly from the Muli and Yongning areas, with a few from Yading etc.


 

Friday, July 10, 2026

Muli monastery now and then - in colour

 I colourised Rock's photo of Muli from the 1920s and it makes an interesting contrast to what I saw in the 1990s.


 And here's my photo from around 1995:


 The monastery was shut down before the Cultural Revolution, but with more destruction during that terrible era.

Thursday, July 09, 2026

Joseph Rock's photos in colour

 I hate AI but was curious as to whether it could work in colourising black and white photos. To be honest I'm quite impressed with some of the results I've obtained with ChatGPT Imageand Rock's photos. Here are a couple of examples. 

Tibetan nomad near Koko Nor (Qinghai Lake)


Reincarnated Living Buddha Lu Zo at Yongning


I have done quite a few more colourisations of Rock's photos and also some of the photos of Sun Jingming, a Nanjing photographer who visited the Kangding and Batang area in 1939.


Friday, June 26, 2026

Joseph Rock has been 'cancelled' in China

 


I sadly have to report that Joseph Rock and his legacy appear to have fallen into disfavour with authorities in China. His former residence near Lijiang that had been turned into a small museum has been closed down, and his name in Chinese, 洛克 'Luoke', has now become effectively become censored. Online articles that highlighted Rock's achievements in plant collecting and Naxi ethnography have been taken down, and his name has been removed from local features such as the 'Rock Road' to Zhagana in southern Gansu, one of the wilderness areas 'discovered' by Rock in the 1920s.

What does it all mean?

Perhaps we need to go back a decade or two, when local authorities in southwest China started to develop their tourism industries. The effusive articles published in National Geographic magazines of the 1920s by Rock describing areas such as Yading and Kawakarpo (Meili Xueshan) were ready-made free publicity material for local governments in the areas of Daocheng, Sichuan and in Diqing, Yunnan. 

Local authorities also seized on Rock's amazing portrait photographs of local minority people and his accomplished landscape photographs of the incredible mountain scenery and colourful monasteries. His stories and images epitomised the lost mountain world of Shangri La, which was in part inspired by Rock's articles. 


The concept of Shangri La came from writer James Hilton's 1933 novel Lost Horizon, and subsequent 1937 movie by Frank Capra. Several scholars and writers have noted the obvious parallels in Hilton's book and passages from Rock's widely-read articles that were published just a couple of years before Hilton put pen to paper.

The Shangri La 'brand' was so strong for tourism that it was actually taken by not one but TWO local towns in southwest China. The ethnic Tibetan town of Zhongdian (Gyalthang in Tibetan) in northwest Yunnan officially renamed itself  as Shangri La in 2001. Confusingly, the village of Riwa  (日瓦乡) at the entrance to Yading National Park in Sichuan also renamed itself as Shangri La in 2009.


In Lijiang, local authorities preserved the former house of Joseph Rock, located in what was once the quiet Naxi village of Nguluko (Yuhu) beyond the city limits on the road to Jade Dragon mountain. It was a modest stone and wood dwelling, a few rooms arranged around a courtyard, similar to most family houses in the area. For many years the residence housed a small museum displaying a few of Rock's personal items such as his plant collecting equipment and items of clothing. One room was recreated as his study, complete with old items of furniture such as his chairs and desk. It was a simple place, he did not live in luxury: Rock had been something of a recluse and wanted little more than a quiet place where he could devote himself to the study and documenting of local plants and flowers, and later to his writing about Naxi culture.


As Rock's articles about his travels were translated into Chinese, they were taken up by the growing number of Chinese trekkers and car tourers who used them from 2010 onwards as a basis for travelling 'off the beaten track'. The hiking route to Yading from Lugu Lake via Muli monastery was dubbed the 'Rock Line' by Chinese trekkers, and the name was adopted by local villages who put up signposts as they discovered the economic benefits of providing food, lodging and guiding services to passing travellers. 

Rock's name was then purloined by an increasing number of local businesses: hotels, shops, restaurants, who wanted to be part of the 'hot' new travel network. And in typical Chinese fashion, there were many copycats in other districts who wanted to jump on the lucrative Rock travel bandwagon. Even in far distant Gansu province, local authorities named a new road to the exotic rocky mountain crags of Zhagana as the 'Rock Road', in an effort to attract the growing number of self driving tourists.


Joseph Rock's travels and his stories also became the basis of a number of travel articles and photo features published online by local governments. Just as tourism operators in the UK highlight their local links to Harry Potter and Wainwright's fell walks, the tourism departments of places like Yading, Gongga Shan and Choni reproduced Rock's articles and photos to showcase the attractions of their local sites and minority culture.

So far, so good. But by 2024 there appeared to be a creeping pushback by some regional authorities against the use of Rock's name and stories for promotional purposes. I heard stories from Chinese friends of articles about Rock being taken offline, and of books and exhibitions relating to Rock being postponed or cancelled. A small group of Chinese academics and amateur scholars who studied Rock's works found that they had to tone down their online chat group on the social media outlet Weibo. They pre-emptively removed the two characters 洛克 representing the name of "Joseph Rock" from the title of their online circle group. 

When discussing Rock's work on Chinese language forums, it was noticeable that some netizens began to question why there was so much interest in a foreign resident of China. The group was accused of 'foreigner worship'. Why, they were asked, did the group not take an interest in the overlooked achievements of Chinese counterparts working in fields of plant collecting, ethnography and photography?


I last visited the Joseph Rock residence near Lijiang in late 2024. By that time the once quiet and run-down farming village had become a tourism hotspot. The streets had been upgraded and gentrified so that they resembled those of tourism towns such as Dali and Yangshuo. Baisha, the nearest local town, was now full of cafes, restaurants, shops selling trinkets and had many boutique Naxi-style guesthouses. The streets thronged with visitors doing day tours from Lijiang, many riding the ubiquitous electric scooters and dressed up in items of 'Naxi' rural clothing. 

I can only imagine what the studious and solitude-loving Joseph Rock would have made of the carnival atmosphere of his former home base. His former house was still open as a museum, and the displays had been extended and were presented in a more professional manner. The residence appeared to be well maintained and in good condition structurally. Nevertheless, the property saw only a handful of visitors when I was there.


Back in Lijiang Old Town I found there was also a Joseph Rock exhibition being hosted in one of the houses tucked down a back alley. It was a small and austere display explaining his works and his links to some of the other plant collectors and ethnographers of the Naxi and Dongba culture.

So in 2026 I am surprised and disappointed to hear that both of these facilities have been closed down on the orders of local authorities. There has been no official explanation as to why these actions have been taken. There have been a handful of posts and reviews on social media sites such as Amap and WeChat, in which Chinese visitors have expressed surprise and frustration at finding the Rock museums to have closed. Some reported in 2025 that the buildings of Rock's residence were still standing and just the signs had been removed and the doors locked. 

But more recent posts in 2026 have expressed concern that the actual buildings have been demolished, and photos posted showing at least part of the property has been levelled. There is confusion in the comments about why this is being done, with some claiming that the closure is temporary and that refurbishment of the old buildings was necessary.

The Rock residence 'before'
The Rock residence 'before'

When I posted this news on Xiaohongshu (Red Note), with an image suggesting Rock had been 'cancelled', there was a furious response from many Chinese netizens. My initial post questioned whether the Rock museum had been permanently closed. The responses were divided between those who confirmed it, and others who angrily refuted this or sought to justify it as a 'temporary' refurbishment. Several told me it was none of my business and that I had an arrogant attitude, and did not understand China's way of doing things. Others noted that Rock's name had been removed from other places, such as the 'Rock Road' in Gansu now being renamed as the 'Jiangan Route'.

The Rock residence 'after' rectification

When I posted up a follow up lament about promotion of Rock's legacy being banned in China, there was an even greater negative reaction. Many netizens declared that Rock had been an American spy, or that he had come to China to plunder its natural resources and cultural artefacts, in a manner similar to the Silk Road 'tomb raiders' such as Aurel Stein. Some said that it was China's prerogative if they did not want to highlight the activities of foreigners in Chinese history. Some comments were just direct abuse, calling me 'white trash' and such. Reassuringly there were at least a few comments saying that the hysterical anti-foreign accusations were similar to those of the mobs of Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution.

I will leave it there for now to see what happens. I am no blind hero worshipper when it comes to Joseph Rock. I can see he was a complex, flawed individual and that some of his attitudes and behaviour would now be classed as problematic and unacceptable. He  lived in China at a time when foreigners enjoyed significant privilege and unfair advantages. He was well funded and enjoyed taking some western luxuries such as a personal chef and a portable bath when he went into the field for his extended expeditions. He expressed racist and prejudiced views about Asians that were normal for the period. And yet at the same time he was not a bigot nor an exploiter of his employees or indifferent to their troubles. He expressed affection and gratitude towards his Naxi staff and was renowned for offering medical care to the local villagers he met.

Rock was an unusually obsessive and reclusive man. In modern parlance we might say he was somewhere 'on the spectrum'. He was fixated on the collection, documentation and study of plants, flowers and trees. He shunned human company and had no interest in socialising with either locals or other westerners, unlike his Lijiang fellow expat Patrick Goullart.

Perhaps it was his German-Austrian thoroughness that drove his systematic recording and preservation of thousands of specimens. And conversely perhaps it was his newly-adopted American persona that drove him to dramatise and publicise his travels in print, and to negotiate the shrewd financial deals that brought him a good income from sales of seeds and also generous travel sponsorship grants from various official bodies.

He should be celebrated for being a polymath. An expert botanist, scholar and plant collector who was not averse to going out into the field for months on end to do his work away from civilisation. He later switched his academic and practical talents from plants to ethnic minorities, with his epic work documenting the Naxi and Dongba language and customs. He was an excellent photographer with an eye for composition of both personal portraits and wide landscapes and buildings. He was also a mapmaker, a linguist, a writer of academic textbooks and travel articles, an explorer and organiser of expeditions, and a teacher and mentor.

Rock's house and museum before closure

When judging Rock, he should be seen in the context of his time and compared alongside his contemporaries in China in the early 20th century. He was contemptuous of many western 'Holy Roller' missionaries he encountered living detached from their Chinese 'flocks' in remote mission stations. He was quite unlike the acquisitive western merchants and rent-seeking officials who flocked to the western enclaves of Shanghai and Hong Kong. He was not like the oddball westerners attracted to the 'mystical Orient' nor the mercenary and political types who ingratiated themselves with the warlords. He was conservative by nature but not overtly political, and had little time for either the liberal Edgar Snow-type idealists and their sympathy for communist revolutionaries, nor the panda-hunting Kermit Roosevelt foreign policy 'hawks' who saw China as an exotic safari park and a potential market  for American businesses. 

Rock enjoyed the privileges of being a white foreigner in China at a time when the country was subjugated and hemmed in by foreign powers. There were foreign-run enclaves in Shanghai and a concept of exterritoriality that endowed de facto legal immunity to westerners living in China. Manchuria and ports in the north east were occupied by Japan, while Britain held Hong Kong and the French controlled Indo-China across the border from Yunnan.

By the standards of the day, Rock was a benign, eccentric scholarly figure. He did not seek to occupy, evangelise, politicise or plunder, nor enrich himself. All he wanted was to be left alone to pursue his plant hunting and writing. While he liked to live in grand style in the field, when he returned home he lived a simple life in a modest house with just the basic essentials needed to carry out his work.

It's odd therefore to see Rock abhorred by authorities in a China that supposesdly reveres scholars and respects those who live modestly. But in Xi Jinping's China there is no escape from the rise of ethno-nationalism that has blighted the USA, Europe and Australia. It looks like Rock's legacy has become the victim of the same narrow-minded nationalistic 'my country first' populism that is now being spread by social media across the world.

Thursday, June 25, 2026

Kangding then and now: 1929 and 2026

 I've just come back from a three month tour of western China, during which I cycled from Zhongdian (aka 'Shangri La') to Kangding. I'll do a write up of the trip at some point, as much of it passed through areas of interest for Joseph Rock nerds. For the time being, though, I will do an update on Kangding, where I finished my tour and handed over my clapped out bike to the son of my former Tibetan guide, Gong Que.

In Kangding I met up again with Professor Zhu Dan of Sichuan University, who shares my interest in the photographs of Joseph Rock. Due to bad weather we abandoned our plans to revisit Gongga Shan, and instead spent a day trying to locate the places where Joseph Rock took his photos of Kangding town. 

The photos were published in the National Geographic issue of October 1930, in an article entitled Glories of the Minya Konka (link here to pdf copy).  

 

The article describes Rock's trip in the previous year from his base near Lijiang to the mountain we now know as Gongga Shan. When exploring the surrounds of the mountain, Rock based himself in the nearby town of Tatsienlu, also known as Tachienlu or Dartsendo, and now known as Kangding. As part of his article he posted a few photos of the town: one a panorama taken from a hillside, showing the Catholic church, and the others showing the 'Thunderbolt monastery' and the 'north gate' of Kangding.


On our visit last week, we tried to find the place where Rock took his panorama photo. It wasn't easy, because Kangding has expanded greatly since Rock's day and the new developments include a range of high-rise apartments built behind Anjue Si monastery, which now block much of the view from where we believed the photo was taken.

After a bit of trial and error, we found a track on the hillside where we guessed that Rock took the photo. There was a lot of thick bush on the hillside that blocked exploration and a highway and tunnel  further up the hillside which further blocked access.

Using Google Earth, this is where we estimated that Rock took the photo, based on the location of the temple on the opposite hillside on the right of the photo, which still exists.

 


 After scrambling up a minor trail above the path, we took this photo:


 As you can see, the old Catholic church is no longer there. Local people who we later met in the new church (on the other side of the river) said the old church had been demolished in the 1970s, after surviving major fires and an earthquake in the 1950s. The site of the old church is now occupied by the Ganze government offices. There is also now a second church, St Theresa's, in Kangding 'New Town', that is located about 6km up the Yulin valley.


While researching the history of the Catholic church, Zhu Dan found many photos taken by photographer Sun Minjing in 1939. These are published in a book called Xikang: the Vanished Province (定格西康︰科考攝影家鏡頭里的抗戰西方). Here are a few of Sun's photos of Kangding:


 This one was taken lower down the hillside, probably close to Anjue Si, where the high rise apartments are now located.


 The above photo was take closer to where Rock took his photo.


 The above photo was taken from the opposite side of the valley, looking west.


 The above photo was taken from the same location as the Rock photo, but is looking to the south west, and shows Anjue Si monastery. The courtyard on the left is probably for the church. And finally, there is a photo of the interior of the church:


There is very little information online about the Catholic church in Kangding. According to Wikipedia, the former Cathedral of the Sacred Heart (known in Chinese as Zhen Yuan Tang 眞原堂 ('Cathedral of the True Origin (of Everything)'] at Tatsienlu was built by Jean-Baptiste Ouvrard in August 1912.

There are some archive reports (in French) of the Franciscan order, who ran the Diocese of Kangting until kicked out by the Communists after 1949. 

In Kangding we also looked at the small Protestant church tucked down a side street on Guangming Lu, near Anjue temple. 


 It was closed up and looked little like the old church that had been run by the Inland Mission.


 There was some information about the Protestant church in English and Chinese:

Friday, February 06, 2026

Wang Qingling: "Remembering My English Teacher – Xuan Ke"

 [This is a great tribute to the inimitable Xuan Ke, a Naxi cultural ambassador in Lijiang who championed traditional Naxi culture and led the revived Naxi orchestra. Written by Professor Wang Qingling, School of Foreign Languages, Yunnan Normal University. Kunming. It was originally published in Naren Wenyuan in 2023.]

In September 1979, I graduated from the Central Primary School in Dayan Town, Lijiang, and entered the first year of junior high school at Lijiang Regional Middle School. Our classroom was one of the school’s famous eight large classrooms. I remember one day, I saw a group of students surrounding a middle-aged man at the classroom door, so I quickly ran over. The man said, “My name is Xuan Ke, and I’m your English teacher. This is my first class at Lijiang No. 1 Middle School...” This was also the first English class for all of us in the class. In those days, in remote Lijiang, children started learning English from the 26 letters of the alphabet in the first year of junior high.

Mr. Xuan insisted on teaching in English, which was very difficult for us, who had zero English foundation. Mr. Xuan emphasized pronunciation and reading aloud. He didn’t focus on grammar or rote memorization; instead, he focused on cultivating our interest in English. His classes revolved around reading aloud, asking questions, correcting pronunciation, and explaining English culture and scenarios related to the text. Later I realized that Mr. Xuan had already adopted the communicative teaching method, which was popular in China from the mid-1990s onwards, and this was completely different from the grammar-based teaching methods that were prevalent at the time.

Mr. Xuan also paid special attention to our English handwriting; he had beautiful, flowing English handwriting. He would also tell us stories about himself, his family, Lijiang, music, painting, and many other things that seemed unrelated to English lessons. This made many people think that Mr. Xuan was neglecting his duties, but we listened with great interest, looking forward to English classes, and enjoying Mr. Xuan’s humorous and engaging teaching style.

At that time, Mr. Xuan even specially selected a few students to have extra classes on Sunday mornings in the attic on the third floor of his house, and I was fortunate enough to be chosen. There, I heard in detail the story of Locke, as well as Locke’s book “The Ancient Naxi Kingdom of Southwest China,” and also learned about Peter Gould. In the attic, he could speak freely about music, about the stories of the Naxi and Tibetan people, and about the Naxi ancient music he was compiling… Teacher Xuan also taught music appreciation classes.

In the only large classroom in the Lijiang area’s middle school at the time, he lectured students from all grades on European music, on Beethoven, Mozart… He would occasionally interject with jokes. The classroom was packed, students attentively listening to the music he played, captivated by his imaginative interpretations, and listening intently to the legendary stories of these musicians… His lectures in the late 1970s and early 1980s greatly broadened our horizons and enriched our understanding.

Later, when I was studying English at East China Normal University, I returned to Lijiang during a holiday to visit Teacher Xuan. He was holding a baby just a few months old and told me this was his daughter. I was a little incredulous, thinking he was joking. At that time, Teacher Xuan’s son, Xuan Liujin, was already around 10 years old, and Teacher Xuan was nearly 60.

I remember that day in his courtyard, he told me he was conducting a teaching experiment at Huangshan Middle School, teaching English in Naxi. He said that for Naxi students, learning English in Naxi was more direct and convenient. Because the word order of English is very similar to that of Naxi, it’s easier to understand English sentence structures in Naxi. He also said that teaching English in Chinese requires students to go through a triangle of language—from Chinese to Naxi and then back to English—making it more difficult for them; teaching English in Naxi, however, is a straight line, directly from Naxi to English and then back to Naxi.

Later, when I visited him after graduating from university, he told me he had published a paper in the *Journal of Tianjin Conservatory of Music*, proposing a theory that music originated from human fear… Professor Xuan was always forward-thinking and had a strong drive to act.

In that isolated era, in Lijiang, which was still quite isolated at the time, Teacher Xuan told us about the outside world, filling us, as young children, with longing for it. In the mid-to-late 1980s and early 1990s, when everyone thought things from the outside world and foreign culture were superior, he tirelessly promoted Lijiang culture and Naxi ancient music. His contributions to the promotion of Lijiang tourism and Naxi culture are undeniable!

I remember when I first started working, around the Spring Festival of 1990, I took a foreign teacher from my school to Lijiang to listen to Teacher Xuan and his Naxi ancient music performance. At that time, only foreigners attended, just a few scattered listeners. The foreign teacher was very excited, specifically visiting Teacher Xuan and buying many cassette tapes, saying he wanted to give them away. At the time, I thought, “This stuff makes me sleepy, and he wants to give it away!”

Later, Teacher Xuan became famous, and my contact with him decreased. Later still, he asked me to help translate some things, and we started contacting each other more often. Back then, whenever he came to Kunming, he would stay at the Kunming New Era Hotel. He often asked me to accompany him for meals, and the dishes he always ordered were stir-fried pickled vegetables with meat and stir-fried potato shreds. People constantly came to visit him at the hotel, and he enjoyed being surrounded by people, but he didn’t like dining with those who came specifically to see him.

During the years when Professor Xuan was surrounded by admirers, I sometimes visited him at Xuan Ke Manor. He could only squeeze in a few moments to talk to me amidst the constant stream of visitors, but I could clearly feel that his visits were genuine. Sometimes, he would ask me to tally up the amounts he had donated, and he would boast about how he maintained his usual humor in front of important figures.

Sometimes, he would tell me about his family, his worries, his troubles... Later, visitors to Xuanke Manor became increasingly rare, and Professor Xuan longed for our visits even more. I gradually sensed his aging, his loneliness, his helplessness... But he was still the eternally youthful, eternally passionate, and never-say-die Xuanke...