The Restored Taipei Heritage Building Megapost

First, a quick life update: I have COVID! So, depending on how that turns out, you can either expect lots of posts as I don't have much to do, or nothing because I don't feel well (right now I'm doing alright). 

Now, on to the actual post.

In recent years, Taipei has been working practically in overdrive not just to preserve the heritage architecture that remains, but (for the most part) turn these old buildings into useful or interesting public spaces. 

You surely know some of these already -- Huashan and Songyan Creative Parks, Bopiliao, Dihua Street and -- well, so many that it'd be impossible to list them all. A few are privately owned: Leputing is housed in a Japanese-era dormitory for government officials, built in the 1920s and renovated with government subsidies. Fireweeds offers more traditionally Japanese fare, in a smaller-scale building. I used to frequent Cafe Monument when I had a reason to be in that area. Nobody who knows a thing about Taiwanese history is unaware of Wistaria House (though it can be hard to get a table). 

Others have been more recently renovated. As such, they're less well-known. 

I've been spending a lot of time these past few years writing about these places (among other topics) for Taipei Magazine. That's not a plug -- the point is, I spend a lot of time visiting these places because the city government wants to get the word out. It's been an enjoyable enough series of assignments that I thought I'd summarize some of my favorites, with a few picks of my own. 

Some of the links lead back to my own writing, some to other sites -- I wanted to offer a list of my favorites (including places I've visited on assignment) rather than just hawk my own work. Not every item comes with photographs: I simply can't find all of my own pictures. I'm not sure it matters much -- I'm not the best photographer.

This is by no means a definitive list. I'm giving the places above the short shrift, and leaving out Beitou and Shezi completely. Old favorites, like the Xiahai City God Temple, Bao'an Temple and Qingshan Temple didn't make it in. There are enough Japanese-era residences around NTU and Shi-da alone to create an entire post. I didn't include the 228 Museum because I wanted to add at least one picture to that, but I don't have any (it will feature in an upcoming post on all the museums you can visit if you don't want to go to the National Palace Museum again). 

That's okay -- I can't cover everything, so let's focus on what I can do! 

Kishu An

Also called the "Literature Forest", this renovated section of a 1917 Japanese riverside banquet hall -- much of which was destroyed in a fire decades ago -- offers a calm spot for relaxation, a shop, cafe and event space. The massive banyan trees lend themselves to the 'forest' part of the site's name, and novelist Wang Wen-hsing lived here for a time, hence the connection to literature. In fact, much of the Taiwanese novel Family Catastrophe was set here.

Taiwan Literature Base and surrounding neighborhood (same link as above)

Near Huashan Creative Park, the Taiwan Literature Base is housed in a series of dormitories once occupied by Japanese civil servants, first in the Japanese era and for a period, ROC government workers as well. It was left abandoned for some time before being designated as a historic site and renovated. Qidong (Chitung) Street is much older, however: it was used as a transit route for goods headed to the port of Keelung during the Qing Dynasty and Japanese colonial era. Now, the dormitories house exhibits, spots for reading -- including one filled with books in Taiwanese and Hakka -- or just places to hang out, in a quiet complex with plenty of outdoor seating. 

There's more to this neighborhood than just the dormitories, however. Other renovated Japanese era buildings house the Taipei Qin Hall (also called Taipei Calligraphy Academy) the residence of Li Gwoh-ting. Both of these host events, exhibits and activities.

Tip: for this and Kishu An, bring bug spray. It turns out that shady banyans attract mosquitoes.

Railway Department Park

This has gotten quite a bit of press since opening in 2020, but I wanted to include it as not only a recent renovation, but also one of my favorite visits. With an Art Deco entrance, cypress from Alishan, a Beaux Arts conference room, and exhibits on railway history, there's a lot to see here. Buildings outside have a lot of history to explore as well. It's become one of my top recommendations for very hot or rainy days, if you want to get out of the house, explore a historic site, and have enough to keep you engaged for the day. 

Futai Street Mansion

Walking down Yanping Street one day, I passed this smallish historical building and found, to my surprise, that it was open to the public. This simple European-style commercial building (it was built in 1910 to house the offices of a Japanese construction company) holds a place in my memory in part because I found it on my own; no guidebook or brochure mentioned it, and I wasn't asked to go there to write about it.  Constructed of stone from Qili'an in northern Taipei with a ceiling of Taiwanese cypress, it's the only commercial building left on Yanping Road, which was once lined with them. It houses a gift shop and as of my last visit, a small cafe as well. Renovation and management was conducted by the same person who manages the Taipei Story House near the Fine Arts Museum. I appreciate the warm cypress scent that wafts through the building; you'd hardly think that this was used as accommodations for high-level ROC officials -- it looks like it was always meant to be a commercial building on a commercial street.


Nishihonganji

Built in the early 1900s, was originally a Buddhist monastery and temple that served as a Taiwan-based chapter of a Japanese Shin (or Pure Land) Buddhist order. When I first moved to Taiwan in 2006, I remember coming across it in disrepair, but in the years since it's been renovated and turned into a popular attraction. The bell tower is especially nice, though I remember it most fondly as one of the first historic sites I came across in Taiwan that was later renovated. The architectural designs are eclectic, and the head priest's residence (the rinbansho or rinbansyo)

is now a teahouse called, predictably, Rinbansyo and is built and decorated in a thoroughly traditional Japanese style. I've been, and I recommend it! 

(On a personal note, Rinbansyo holds a lot of sad and nostalgic memory for me, as the one time I went, I was with a friend who later passed away of a heart condition. It was the last time I saw her. I should go back, but I haven't yet.) 

North Gate

In my first years in Taiwan, North Gate was that incongruous little square building with the traditional-style roof that few paid attention to. Why? Because it sat right next to a massive highway ramp. When I had a class in Wugu, a student would drive me back to Taipei Main Station and I'd always notice how pretty that old Minnan-style roof looked, silhouetted by the city lights beyond. It was hard to get close to the actual gate, though, and on the ground its surroundings drained its attractiveness.

Friends began pointing out the gate's significance. As one of the only relics of the Taipei city walls (constructed just before the Sino-Japanese war in the late 1900s, and demolished very soon after by the incoming Japanese), and as the only Taipei surviving city gate retaining its original southern Chinese form. The others were renovated (retconned) into the bright red-and orange northern Chinese style buildings the KMT plonked on Taiwan to make it seem not just 'Chinese' but the specific kind of "Chinese" aesthetics they preferred. That is, not simple, elegant Southern Min brick. 

Imagine my shock when one day I walked by that intersection to see the ramp gone, and pedestrian friendly walkways allowing one to truly admire this forgotten old gate in the shadow of an overpass. But of course people hadn't forgotten; it took awhile to do the right thing and give North Gate its due.It took breaking the KMT domination of the Taipei mayorship and showing that in fact, a simple, local-style gate can be more lovely than the most firecracker-red columns you can out up to push your view of history on the people.

It's small, and takes just a moment to walk through. But you can walk through it now, and that wasn't always the case. And that's what matters.

Taipei Info Hub

Not far from Futai Street Mansion (you can walk between the two by crossing under North Gate), Taipei Info Hub is a recently-renovated warehouse building housing various exhibits on the first floor, with a second floor event space. Built in 1913 for the erstwhile Mitsui & Co (no relation to the current company), Taipei Info Hub also houses a cafe with ample seating in an area where there were once very few food and drink options. Interestingly, the semicircular gable that graces the building now isn'r original; the original was deemed too vulnerable to be left in position and is now on display inside the building.


National Center of Photography and Images

In the same article linked above, I wrote about NCPI -- the National Center of Photography and Images. In the same neighborhood as the Railway Department Park, North Gate, Futai Street Mansion and Taipei Info Hub. 

You probably know this building; very near Taipei Main Station, it was designed by architect Setsu Watanabe and built in 1937. It's certainly got Japanese influences in the roof design -- note the distinctive turret -- but was also designed to be simple and modern. Originally an office for the Osaka Mercantile Co., the turret was eventually lopped off in order to build a fourth story, during the period when it housed the Provincial Highway Bureau. During renovations, Watanabe's original intent was coaxed back into existence, with the turret replaced. 

Now, NCPI hosts rotating exhibits on photography in Taiwan's history. Not everything is subtitled in English, but enough is to enjoy yourself. While enjoying the exhibits, be sure to take in some of the other Art Deco details of the building, especially the stairway.

The first floor also houses a minimalist cafe and interesting gift shop. (I bought a Furoshiki Shiki miscellaneous goods bag, because I thought the design was cool.) 

New Culture Movement Museum

One thing I love about Taiwan: when dealing with the renovation of historic sites that evoke painful memories of colonialism and brutality, the current government has not shied away from re-imagining them as spaces to talk about Taiwan's history on its own terms, while reminding people of the original purpose of the sites. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Japanese-era police stations in Taipei and Tainan. Tainan uses its old police station as part of a fine arts museum complex, exhibiting fine artwork specifically from Taiwan which evokes the Taiwanese experience through history and today. 

In Taipei, this means using an old police building to house a New Culture Movement museum. When I went, the current COVID outbreak was just starting to become a concern, and the place was deserted. While that's probably due to the pandemic, I also worry that news of the museum's existence hasn't gotten around yet, either. That's a shame, because in addition to exhibits about the New Culture Movement (which was strongly tied to the Home Rule movement of the time), the building itself is of historic interest. From my article: 

Built in 1933, the station also served as a detention center. In the ensuing decades, the edifice was replaced with red tiles and a third story was added. Renovations began in 2014, and the choice of exhibit was intentional: Taiwan Cultural Association (台灣文化協會) founder Chiang Wei-shui (蔣渭水) had been imprisoned at the station’s former site in the 1920s. The New Cultural Movement in Taiwan encouraged understanding of Taiwanese culture and history through performances, lectures, essays and a newspaper, the Taiwan People’s News (台灣民報).

POPOP Taipei

This is another one of those city government initiatives aiming to renovate Taipei's historic sites and re-make them into usable spaces for contemporary times. POPOP was once a bottle cap factory in Nangang, a part of the city that, to be honest, doesn't have a lot going on (though if you find yourself there, the Academia Historica museum is interesting, and there's an old family mansion near the Academia Sinica). 

Unlike, say, the creative parks at Huashan and Songshan, POPOP is a fairly new project, and hasn't quite taken off yet thanks to the pandemic -- but hopefully, it will. Instead of following the old 'creative and culture park' model, POPOP was conceived as a 'maker space', with the main part of the old factory buildings turned into a single long workspace with tables, counters, outlets -- you know, a space for makers. There's not a lot going on yet, but check back in a few years.

For the casual visitor, there's also a cafe, a sake bar and an antique shop in addition to some small but pleasant outdoor spaces. 

U-mkt

From the same article above, the Shintomicho Cultural Market (U-mkt) can be found at the other end of the MRT's blue line, near Longshan Temple and Bopiliao. Built in 1935, commercial operations ceased in the unique U-shaped building in the 1990s. Xinfu Market, however, still bustles around it, and is interesting both when open and closed (as the pull-down garage doors on the shops are covered in colorful graffiti). Today, U-mkt has exhibits on the building's past, kitchen and lecture spaces and two cafes, one in the curve of the "U" and the other in the Japanese-era office just outside. 

Neihu Assembly Hall

This Art Deco building caught my eye in a book of Taipei heritage buildings. Looking one weekend day for something to do, I suggested to Brendan that we head up to Neihu just to have a look. After all, we rarely get up that way; there just isn't that much to do in Neihu if you don't live there! We weren't able to enter the building, and frankly, the façade is probably the most interesting thing about it. Built in 1930, it's one of the few Japanese-era buildings that isn't done in the "baroque" style reminiscent of British colonialism, but straight-up Art Deco, complete with 'air defense' tiles which were probably more for decoration than actual camouflage.

It's worth coming up here, though, as you can combine it with a visit to visit the Kuo ancestral shrine (below). 

Kuo Family Shrine

This gem of a building is designed more in the Japanese Baroque style that is so common in Taiwan than the Neihu Assembly Hall, and is linked with it above. Hiking up the steps to get to this hilltop mansion, you'd never know that it's right next to an MRT station. Unlike the assembly hall, the family mansion is open most days, and is pleasant to wander around. It's also the headquarters of the World Kuo Family Association, has some Tang-dynasty tablet rubbings, and features a shrine to the most famous Kuo -- Kuo Ziyi. Though he's claimed as the ancestor to all people surnamed Kuo, that's likely not the actual case. 

Sun Yat-sen Memorial House / Yixian Park / Umeyashiki

Can you imagine someone living in Taiwan for almost 15 years, and not visiting this site? Well, that was me. Next to Taipei Main Station, this was a restaurant and guesthouse during the Japanese Era, where Sun Yat-sen apparently spent a night (also, it's apparently been relocated from its original site nearby). 

After so many years of seeing the walls keeping this small park and building from the noise and traffic outside, I finally popped in one day when I had nothing else going on, and had just had lunch with a friend nearby. I ended up spending much of the afternoon just sitting and relaxing. The Japanese-style building itself houses a small exhibition related to Dr. Sun, and the garden around it is landscaped in a Chinese style. A brochure describes it as a fusion of the two styles -- Japanese and Chinese -- with some sort of metaphorical link to Taiwan and fusion of the two cultures. 

            

I don't care much for the metaphor, but it is a pleasant spot. Perhaps sit and reflect on how the "father of modern China" (or something) visited Taiwan, stayed here, and never said a thing about Taiwan being Chinese. To Sun, Taiwan was very obviously Japanese. Now consider how China views its 'claim' to Taiwan as something historic -- the evidence is apparently 'antiquity' itself. 

Does that claim seem particularly legitimate in light of what you've just learned? I hope not! 


The Lin Antai Mansion

Competing with other old family mansions such as the Banqiao Lin Family Garden in New Taipei, the Li Family House in Xinzhuang and the Wufeng Lin Mansion just outside Taichung city, the Lin Antai house is probably the best-preserved old mansion in Taipei. It took me years to visit, simply because it's not close to anything else and not particularly close to an MRT (some bus lines run up to that corner of the city, but that's about it). I enjoyed it immensely when I did, however. Fun fact: the house used to be located on what is now Dunhua South Road. I saw the original site on an old map once, and it wasn't far from MRT Technology Building -- it's surreal to think the whole thing got moved up to the riverside.

Ciyun Temple (慈雲寺)

We found this temple so many years ago that the photos I took got lost somewhere in the shuffling of files from old computers to new. I remember it though, because in a district full of flashier and more famous temples, this simple brick structure felt like a throwback, or at least a very unpretentious example of its type. The old brick arcades certainly give the area the feel of a time long past. Built in 1924 with private funds, it was on newly reclaimed land behind what is now Ximenting when first constructed. Now, the temple lives on, but seems to be bookended with hip-looking cafes. I don't mind, that, really. 

If you make your way from some of the sites around Taipei Main to Ciyun Temple, you'll find yourself walking through Ximen, which is an interesting way to spend a day regardless of your destination. There's plenty to see in the area, and if you aim your walk in the direction of Zhongshan Hall and some of the other historical sites and temples I've skipped, you'll also pass one of my favorite old houses:

 

I don't think there's anything especially historic about it, I just think it looks cool. 

In fact, although it's often labeled an unattractive city, Taipei has lots of architecture that is in fact quite interesting:

Collecting Majolica Tiles in Taiwan: A History and a Buyer's Guide

 

It's been a rough few weeks, and I think we deserve a fun, colorful post with a little history and a touch of advice. I have some heavier stuff in the oven, but you'll just have to wait. Today, I want to talk about Majolica tiles in Taiwan: their history, their entry point into Taiwan and their popularity, both past and present. 

As a collector of the real vintage Japanese tiles as well as happy owner of modern interpretations on these traditional designs, I also wanted to offer a buyer's guide: should you collect the real antiques, or modern versions? What sort of prices should you expect to pay? Are there any ethical issues in buying old tiles? (Spoiler: there don't seem to be, but always trust your gut). And, of course, where can one find them?

The pictures will be a bit scattered and cover several countries -- they are here for your aesthetic enjoyment and don't necessarily follow the flow of the text. 

Part of my own collection of Taiwanese Majolica

The style we now call Majolica was probably invented in the Middle East or Iran centuries ago. It arrived via trade routes to Europe by the 1400s, where it became especially popular in Italy, and became known as "Faenza tiles", for the Italian city known for producing them. The original method from the Middle Ages and Renaissance involved lead-glazed ceramics colored with tin oxides. 

Original colors were therefore all based on tin oxides: manganese purple, antimony yellow, cobalt blue, copper green and rust orange. In fact, this is likely why the Majolica tiles one sees in places like southern Spain so often follow a blue/yellow/green/orange color scheme: if they're old enough, those were the only possible colors. 

The firing process and generally viscous paints allowed multicolored tiles to be fired only once, making brightly-colored wares more affordable and accessible. By the Victorian Era, this is part of what fueled their popularity -- as attractive, colorful signifiers of middle-class status.

Bookmark this for later: the same Middle Eastern origins of these tiles also spread eastward to India, and for years along those trade routes, they were associated with Islamic art and architecture (for example, in Mughal India). That would change in the 19th century, however -- and this link is a fascinating read.

The style made its way to Spain, where they came to be known as "Majolica", a corruption of Majorca, the place where such wares entered the country. They were called faience (after the city of Faenza) in France and 'delft' in the Netherlands. The blue-and-white style became especially popular beyond Spain, including Portugal. 

Not all "Majolica" tiles are of the same type: some were etched and filled with paint to create something of a shiny, brightly-colored almost three-dimensional effect. Blue colors especially did a fantastic job of mimicking water. Some were simply painted on the shiny white finish of plain tiles. Some looked more like pools of limpid color, others were more opaque with visible brushstrokes and overlapping colors. Some took on a distinctly European style, some imitated Chinoiserie in blue and white, and some -- especially in Spain -- retained their Middle Eastern aesthetic roots. Some were transfer-printed geometric designs that didn't look like painted glass at all. 

It's hard to say of any or all of these could truly be called "Majolica", but when I use the term I'm specifically referring to the glazed tiles -- some in three- dimensional relief and some not -- popular in Taiwan in the early 20th century.

The baskets of fruit, including grapes, peaches and pomegranates, proved popular with Asian buyers

The style fell out of fashion for awhile, but was resurrected in Europe in later centuries, and enjoyed a huge boom in popularity in Victorian times. 

Victorian times were also colonial times, so perhaps it's clear where this is going. 

The Great Exhibition of 1851 (something like a World's Fair) in London brought the style back in a big way. Across Europe -- but especially in England -- the tiles began to be used to decorate houses and public areas. They were especially common on the walls of pubs and around fireplaces, being easy to clean and able to withstand high temperatures. They began to be mass produced by companies like Minton and Wedgewood, which used fanciful designs that called back to nature (a 'return to nature' was a big thing, stylistically). Industrialization and improved techniques made these colorful items available to the masses. They were seen as sanitary (easy to clean) and attractive -- again, a sign of middle-class status in the 19th century.

Not all Majolica items are tiles: in fact, the style more typically referred to housewares made of inexpensive earthenware or clay, fired with a tin glaze providing a white, glossy surface for painting. In the Victorian era, Majolica pots, urns, pitchers and servingware were all popular. I don't have time to talk about those, and that style isn't particularly to my liking (lots of pitchers decorated with bulbous grapes or squirrels) -- let's focus on the tiles. 

Reproduction (modern) tiles using traditional designs, available at the Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles with shops in Tainan, Taipei and the museum in Chiayi

Taiwanese Majolica tiles turned into decorative hangings using vintage glass and window framing, purchased here

These tiles fell out of fashion towards the end of the 19th century, as their bright colors and naturalistic elements -- plants, animals, leaves, feathers, fruit -- didn't quite mesh with the incoming Art Nouveau and Bauhaus styles. 

However, they didn't disappear entirely: if you look at vintage tiles from that era, the whimsical floweriness of Art Nouveau started to show up in tile designs, replacing prim Victorian roses. Look hard enough and you'll even find some tiles with Art Deco influences, including some with a Streamline style.

This was also around the time that they began to catch on in Asia.

A few things happened here: in India, upper-class Indians often sought to imitate the British colonizers, including decorating their own homes with the tiles they saw in British houses. 

At the same time, the British wanted to promote "sanitation" -- as they saw it, cleaning up India by tiling as many surfaces as possible. A house with a tile floor was a "clean" house, it seems. Once associated with Mughal design, these tiles became associated with modernity (and, yes, colonialism). 

But what did South and Southeast Asians want in their tiles, and could Europe provide it?

The answers seemed to be bright colors, fancier (more expensive) designs for the upper classes, and no -- England could not provide enough of them affordably.

Four of my favorites: an early Art Deco style (note the Streamline influence and minty color), an Art Nouveau (the natural floral lines, ornate but not feminine, lots of rust and purple), a rare green and purple combination with an octagon, and a lion with a deep, limpid blue background setting off green leaves -- explicitly for the Chinese/Taiwanese market)

At the same time, after Japan was forced at gunpoint to end its isolation with the rest of the world, they began a rapid process of industrialization. Foreigners were moving in, and decorating their houses in Japan with these colorful painted tiles. 

Some Japanese saw a business opportunity, and began experimenting with tile manufacturing. By the early 1900s, they were more or less able to replicate the imported European tiles, and started their own manufacturing enterprises.

This was also the period of early colonial rule in Taiwan, as well as a great deal of trade between different communities across Asia. 

If the Chettiars of Tamil Nadu (a well-known group who traded extensively and made massive fortunes) had gorgeous peacock and floral tiles, their counterparts in Southeast Asia wanted them too. Many of those communities were ethnically Chinese, and some had roots in Kinmen. 

Desire for these brightly-colored tiles among wealthy Asian communities began to grow -- perhaps inspired by what they saw imported from Europe, but far more local as time went on. The yanglou 洋樓 of the Kinmen elites were often practically encrusted with these tiles, just as the mansions of the Chettiars in Tamil Nadu. (Chettinad itself is still a center of tile manufacturing, though the method is quite different from the tiles in these pictures).

Some modern takes on old tile patterns -- silicone coasters from the Museum of Taiwan Tiles, and a peacock coaster from Perfume Tiles (which also sells solid perfume). 

Sensing this demand, the Japanese companies making the tiles began to create designs that would appeal to South Asians and Chinese. Colors got brighter -- the pale lavenders and pinks of the English tiles became bright greens and bubblegum colors. Images these communities like began to be produced: peacocks, lions, fruit and flowers that symbolized prosperity, community or longevity -- fewer English roses and more bamboo, Buddha's Hand, birds, lions, peaches and pomegranates. Baskets overflowing with fruit.

Lotus flowers and lilies also became popular, and with the rise of Indian nationalism, there was a massive demand for Hindu iconography in India. Tiles bearing Krishna, Lakshmi, Sarasvati and more began to appear, often directly imitating the influential work of painter Raja Rami Varma. Demand only grew between the two world wars, at a time when Japan could provide but Europe, perhaps, could not. 

Modern reproduction tile coasters from the Museum of Taiwan Tiles

In India, the rise of the swadeshi movement caused Indians avoid British-made goods. Japanese ones, however, were considered an acceptable substitute by some. They might not be Indian, but at least they weren't British! Southeast Asia was probably less ideologically driven to buy the Japanese tiles as simply finding them more affordable and aesthetically pleasing.

In Taiwan, conidering the contact that wealthy Taiwanese would have had with the Japanese and other Asian communities as well as the West, it isn't surprising that demand for these tiles grew, giving Japan another market. 

                        

Peacock Majolica from a Chettinad mansion

Wealthy Taiwanese homes were often already paved with terracotta-style tiles (those dark rusty-red tiles you see in old farmhouses). But the colorful Majolica tiles were a way to decorate your home -- especially the exterior as the glaze would repel water -- adding a pop of color while acting as a status symbol. 

You can see them in situ in many of the pictures below, as well as here at the Kuo Family Mansion. Xianse Temple in Sanchong also has some lovely ones, and they are easy to find on preserved mansions in Kinmen. In Taichung, the old Wu residence gatehouse, relocated to Taichung Park, is decorated with Majolica.

In other words, as demand for Majolica fell in Europe, it spiked in Asia, with India as a leading market, though many found their way to Taiwan -- a prosperous territory, even as a colony.

If the Japanese Majolica looks brighter than its Western counterparts, or incorporates more post-Victorian design trends (such as Art Nouveau and Art Deco) and even seems highly market-specific, that's because it is. 

It wasn't going to last, of course: World War II kicked up, there was no budget or supply chain for luxuries, and Japanese Majolica tile production dropped off. 

Whatever was already in Taiwan was more or less Taiwan's Majolica legacy. That is to say, the real stuff is almost entirely post-1900, but pre-war. Old, but not ancient. 

Some pieces, however, are rare enough to sell for huge sums. I didn't pay this much, but I've seen lion designs like this one go for NT$12,000 per tile. 

So, what to do if you want a few of these tiles for yourself, or simply a decorative item that evokes this history? 

The tiles are no longer made, but the Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles has led the way -- and created an excellent example -- for salvaging these pieces of 'everyday' art from old houses that are slated for demolition. The museum acquires the tiles, cleans and refurbishes them, and either displays them in their small museum space in Chiayi or returns them to any original owners who want them back. 

From them, you can buy modern designs based on these traditional tiles at affordable prices. Larger ones can be used as trivets, and smaller ones as coasters (there are also tea tray, mirror and coat hook options). The museum shop -- located in Red House in Taipei, Blueprint Cultural and Creative Park in Tainan and the museum itself in Chiayi -- also sells a variety of related items, including jewelry, compact mirrors, tiled bathroom mirrors, washi tape and more.

Yes, you can tell the difference between the new and old versions -- look above, and you'll note the opaque colors and uniform flat designs. However, they make excellent coasters, tiles for decorative projects and trivets. I've never sensed disappointment when giving one as a gift. 

The museum occasionally offers limited runs of hand-painted tiles in the same style and colors as the originals. I bought this peacock from them -- it looks authentic, but it's quite new. These will cost more, however (between $1800 and $4000NT depending on whether you buy a design with a single tile or two).

Perfume Tiles are another option. They pop up in Eslite, and many of the "cultural and creative" markets around Taiwan, as well as on Pinkoi.

But let's say you want originals. You should use these as decorative items only; the Museum of Taiwan Tiles reproductions make good coasters and trivets, but the true antiques won't. You can even see in my set of four coasters that I had to give it a bit of a gold paint job after my cat knocked it off the table!

A tiled mansion -- check out the ceiling! -- in Chettinad, India

Real antiques will, of course, cost more. A common design such as the ones below might run anywhere from NT$700 to NT$1300, depending on the seller and the condition of the tile (tiles with obvious color bleeding or other damage sell for less, of course). 

Tiles in common patterns and painted trim in Kinmen

Rarer designs will cost you more: anywhere from $1500-$3000NT. The rarest -- which often include animals or intricately painted flowers in vases -- can go for up to NT$6000 per tile, depending on condition, quality and shape (flat or with a relief pattern).

Occasionally, tiles from England or meant for the Indian market will appear from Taiwanese sellers: these can be cool additions to a collection, though in general I like to keep it local and stick to whatever was popular in Taiwan. Majolica is expensive but it's also everywhere; a curated collection of specifically Japanese tiles meant for the Taiwanese market lends uniqueness to the endeavor.

I would not recommend buying at that upper limit if you just want something pretty -- there are plenty of options at lower price points. 

Generally speaking, tiles with relief patterns -- raised off the tile surface - will cost more unless they are significantly damaged. Flat designs will be cheaper, unless they are rare. Heavy damage usually means a solid discount -- color running not so much, but chipping or dirt stuck in the glaze that can't be removed will drive down prices. 

Rarer tiles like these (I almost never see the patterns below come up for sale) will, of course, cost more:

From a compound of old houses in northern Tainan county

Sometimes you can get a good deal if you buy four of a kind and frame them together.

But where does one acquire them?

Honestly, your best bet are Facebook groups. These are run almost entirely in Mandarin.

何武朝根 is an artist in Pingtung who sometimes incorporates tiles into his work. A typical piece (like the diamond-shaped ones in photos above) run approximately NT$1800, including shipping.

老花磚繽紛樂 are more expensive, but hold regular sales and have a Yahoo! Auction function. They also have the widest variety and focus exclusively on tiles. Interestingly, some of their offerings clearly came from India -- there's a Krishna on their Yahoo! Auction page.

eBay has quite a few options, including Indian and English tiles, but you'll pay a massive premium. I've never used them.

Tiles sometimes pop up in 二手。古董。老件。收藏。裝飾 but it's not all they deal with. However, seller 秦立珍 often has them and always has fair prices. She's based in Kaohsiung but ships securely.

I sometimes post good finds that I won't buy myself in Taiwan Home Decor, but it's nothing you can't find by trawling these other pages.

老花磚Old Tiles瓷磚タイル汰嚕 doesn't sell, it's just for showing tiles one has found, but it's nice to look and see what patterns are common or rare.

I should note that all of mine are framed, but they usually don't come that way. I take them to a framer for that, and yes, it costs extra. Some of the more expensive options will occasionally come with frames, however.

Old tiles on Kinmen and Tainan mansions -- I covet that center tile

Tiles on old houses in Tainan county

This brings us to the last question: is it ethical to buy these old tiles?

I think it is. They don't sell for enough to be worth thieves' time to go around and pry them off old houses. Every seller I've worked with has given every indication of being above board, and they're not selling patterns consistently enough that I think they're being taken unethically from someone's neglected property and put on the market. The Old Tiles group dedicated only to selling them seems to get them from a more international source, considering the inclusion of tiles obviously meant for other markets.

In fact, the one time I saw a tile -- broken, and a common pattern, but still a tile -- that had fallen naturally off of its perch on someone's half-ruined old farmhouse, the locals had perched it neatly on this brick column and left it there. The idea of taking it seemed unconscionable. 

I highly doubt Majolica tile trafficking is a big deal, in other words. If I learn differently, I'll update. But you can assume you're buying from people who've salvaged them ethically or acquired them from families looking to offfload them.

I also like collecting Taiwanese Majolica specifically because it tells a story that goes beyond the expected tropes of colonialism and the evil aspects of global capitalism. Perhaps Majolica could have been a tale of British notions of civilization and sanitation being foisted onto India and then spread across Asia. In another timeline, maybe.

It's not, though. It's a story of a ceramicware process that started in the Middle East (that is, Asia), and then became popular in Europe. When these tiles made their way toward East Asia, locals with the means decided they liked them. Rather than be willing markets for foreign producers, Japanese manufacturers figured out how to create high-quality versions more locally. Yes, Japan was an imperial power too, but nobody forced Taiwanese to buy the Majolica that began to appear. At the same time, these tiles provided an alternative to buying British during a time when India wanted to be free from Britain. The popularity of religious iconography in the Indian versions and what it says about Hindu nationalism, in a place where the original tilework methods already existed and were already associated with non-Hindu origins is indeed fascinating, but not closely related to their story in Taiwan.

Desire for these aesthetically pleasing items, produced in Asia for Asian consumers, spread via Asian -- that is, regional and local -- networks. They came to Taiwan in the early 20th century not because Japan made it so. They came because they were beautiful and affordable. Taiwan was prosperous before the Second World War, and there were middle and upper classes of locals who could afford them, and were well-traveled enough to have seen them -- perhaps in Singapore, Vietnam, Malaysia, India, Japan or even Europe itself.

That, to me, is not a colonial story from the West, though colonialism is indeed inextricable from the narrative. 

Rather, it's a story of local people deciding they liked a thing merely for its beauty, having the means and worldliness to know it exists at all, and figuring out how to produce or acquire what they wanted themselves.

There's a positive take here, and that's the one I want to leave you with.

Now, I'd just like to see you off with some lovely pictures of Majolica tiles from around the world -- Spain, Portugal, India, and Taiwan.

Enjoy!

Lisbon

 Lisbon

Seville

Seville

Porto, most likely

Lisbon or Coimbra (above and below)

                    

Seville

Lisbon

Seville (all four above)

Taiwan 

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You can also see painted tiles like this in some temples in the flat part of Beitou, but the one above in Gongguan/Taipower, near the Kishu An Literature Forest (紀州庵文學森林).

Gate of the Wu residence, relocated to Taichung Park

Kuo Family Mansion in Neihu (you can see them on the upper columns)

The Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles, Chiayi

Hoi'an, Vietnam: not sure that these are Majolica in the sense of what I collect, but the idea is more or less the same

Turkey's famous tiles and ceramics (look for the tiles at old mosques and palaces, including the Rustem Pasha Mosque and Topkapı Palace) are also technically "Majolica" in that they are fired similarly -- shiny white base, multiple colors fired together, and almost certainly originated with tin oxide pigment -- but more likely came from the Middle East rather than via Italy/Spain/Europe.

They're in the same family of decorative items, but the ones popular in early 20th century Taiwan arrived via Europe and Japan, not Turkey. 

I have been to Istanbul, however, so here are some photos: