Unlike what we know of classic Christian death mythology, in which the hope is for the soul to escape to Heaven after life on earth, early Chinese beliefs surrounding death expected the core of your being to remain intact right where you were. Tombs were even designed to keep you in familiar surroundings, allowing you to re-enact life in your household for, theoretically, eternity.
Often, however, the meddling of the still-living would interrupt that serene life-after-life. Tombs would be inevitably discovered and subsequently pillaged. Thus, many tombs are no longer intact today, but left with scattered pieces of the lives they were attempting to imitate.
These pieces, from a spring exhibit at the China Institute in New York City, come from the Jin Dynasty in the 12th century. The Jin were a semi-nomadic people from Manchuria, who declared northern China their own for a brief stint in the 12th century. They were overthrown by Mongol forces and a rival dynasty, the North Song in the early 13th century and were absorbed into the new ruling culture.
Over their time in power, the Jin had adopted a number of Song customs and traditions, including some funerary practices. The idea of treating the dead as if they were living came from the Song traditions. Their graves were simply constructed, decorated mostly with relief carvings on bricks, like this one.
The Jin took brick carving, which was traditionally a folk art, and made it into an elaborate and even elegant art form. They carved stage figures and scenes from plays to create “home theaters.”
We’re unsure what the meaning of the life inside the tombs is. The entrance to a tomb, which brings one into a life-like scene with clay figures carrying on with their every-day, may represent the threshold into a new realm. Perhaps here, although positioned so close to the world of the living, is where a new life begins after death.