1:51 pm - February 12, 2025
The Magic of Shehuo: A Photographer’s Journey Through Time and Tradition
In the heart of northern China, amidst the bustling celebrations of the Lunar New Year, lies a lesser-known yet deeply rooted tradition: the Shehuo festival. Photographer Zhang Xiao has dedicated over a decade to capturing the essence of this ancient celebration, weaving a tale of myth, culture, and the delicate balance between tradition and modernity. Through his lens, the everyday lives of villagers transform into a surreal theatrical performance, where the boundaries between reality and fantasy blur. Dressed in costumes of cranes, roosters, and mythical lions, the villagers step into the roles of creatures both real and imagined, creating a mesmerizing spectacle that feels almost otherworldly.
Zhang’s work, compiled in his book Community Fire, reveals the intricate dance between the mundane routine of rural life and the fantastical personas villagers embrace during Shehuo. In his photographs, performers adorned in vibrant costumes parade through fields and streets, their masked expressions hinting at stories untold. A line of men holding aloft a colorful dragon puppet in a harvested wheat field is just one of the many scenes that captivate the viewer, inviting them to step into a world that feels both timeless and fragile. For Zhang, the festival is more than just a spectacle; it’s a window into a collective dream, where the villagers, as he describes them, are “sleepwalkers in a dreamworld.” His approach is that of a quiet observer, careful not to disturb the fragile balance of this enchanted realm.
The Shehuo festival, also known as “earth and fire,” is rooted in ancient agricultural rituals that date back millennia. Originally a time for worshipping the land and fire, the festival was a plea for good fortune, bountiful harvests, and protection from evil spirits. Over time, it has evolved into a vibrant celebration that now coincides with the Lunar New Year, blending traditional practices like temple fairs and lion dances. Today, Shehuo festivities vary across regions, featuring stilt walkers, opera singers, and other performers who bring the streets to life. Yet, despite its recognition as part of China’s intangible cultural heritage, the festival faces an uncertain future. Zhang notes that many performers have migrated to cities, returning to their villages only for the holiday, highlighting the tension between tradition and the pull of urbanization.
Zhang’s photographs not only capture the beauty of Shehuo but also shed light on the festival’s gradual transformation in the face of modernization. Over the years, he has witnessed the rise of mass-produced costumes and props, which have replaced traditional materials like paper, bamboo, and cloth. Cheap plastic masks and synthetic fabrics now dominate the market, and villages have begun to capitalize on this trend. Some, like Huozhuang in Henan province, have turned into production hubs, with families producing and selling Shehuo items online through platforms like Taobao. While this has brought economic opportunities, it has also led to the decline of traditional craftsmanship and cultural authenticity. Zhang laments this shift, seeing it as a loss of the festival’s soul. “The significance of traditional customs can no longer meet the needs of modern lives,” he says, noting that young people are increasingly drawn to the digital world, leaving cultural heritage behind.
The rise of e-commerce has further complicated the picture. Zhang’s book includes images of plastic masks stacked like commodities and smiling prop heads dangling from trees in plastic bags. These scenes juxtapose the festival’s spiritual origins with its current commercialization. While some villages thrive by selling Shehuo items online, others struggle to maintain the quality and meaning of their traditions. A third-generation prop maker expressed sadness over the disappearance of traditional skills, but many villagers remain indifferent, prioritizing profit over preservation. Zhang, who grew up in a rural area but now lives in the bustling city of Chengdu, sees this as part of a broader trend in China. “People are not focused on how to improve product quality and craftsmanship,” he remarks. “Instead, they are obsessed with how to manufacture these products as quickly and cheaply as possible.”
As Shehuo continues to evolve, Zhang’s work serves as a poignant reminder of what is at stake. His photographs are not just a documentation of a festival but a reflection on the human experience—our need for connection, meaning, and celebration. Community Fire is more than a book of images; it’s a call to appreciate the beauty of tradition before it fades. Zhang’s journey as a “quiet spectator” offers a glimpse into a world that is both resilient and vulnerable, inviting us to ponder the value of cultural heritage in a rapidly changing world. In doing so, his work reminds us that the true magic of Shehuo lies not just in its costumes and rituals but in the stories, emotions, and collective memories it carries—a legacy worth preserving for generations to come.