The poetic Vietnamese Hand Fans

Vietnamese hand fans are not only charming but also very poetic.

Since ancient times, fans have been a part of Vietnamese culture. Royalty used fans made of feathers, while common people favored fans crafted from palm leaves. The 16th and 17th centuries saw the introduction of paper fans adorned with paintings and calligraphy, as mentioned in Chi Nam Ngoc Am giai nghia (Annotated by Tran Xuan Ngoc Lan, Khoa hoc Xa hoi Publishing House, 1985, p. 163).

By the 18th century, the variety of materials and designs used for Vietnamese hand fans had expanded significantly. In Van Dai Loai Ngu (1773), Le Quy Don detailed eight types of folding fans. These were constructed with blades made from diverse materials such as bamboo, rhapis, aged mai wood, sandalwood, buffalo horn, ivory, tortoiseshell, and painted wood. He noted, “Fans have two blade shapes: curved and straight. Regardless of size, each fan consists of 22 blades, and both sides are covered by paper.” (Van hoa Thong tin Publishing House 2006, p. 386)

Dai Nam Quac Am Tu Vi written by Huynh Tinh Cua defines “quạt” (the Vietnamese word for “hand fan”) as an authentic Vietnamese word and distinct from Chinese. The book lists four popular types of Vietnamese hand fans: feather fans, paper fans, bamboo fans, and areca leaf stem fans (Rey, Curiol & Cie Publishing House, 1895, p. 841)

In fact, Vietnamese hand fans are more than mere practical tools; they’re a fusion of beauty and creativity, infusing everyday life with a poetic touch that goes well beyond what’s captured in books.

Leaf Fans – Areca Fan

Among the oldest types are the leaf fans made from palm leaves. The leaves are dried until they shift from a vibrant green to a warm, straw hue. The aged bamboo  lies in wait, ready to be the fan’s handle. The fan maker’s experienced hands dance swiftly over the leaves, weaving them together. Strips of leaves nestle tightly, forming smooth and rhythmic lines. With each rustle of leaves, a fan’s form emerges, echoing in the serene whispers of skills and tradition.

Leaf fans come in various shapes, with the simplest resembling a trapezoid. If a fan is shaped like a banyan tree leaf, it’s called a “banyan leaf fan.” Likewise, a fan with a pointed top reminiscent of a Bodhi leaf earns the name “Bodhi leaf fan.” Sometimes, leaf fans even take on the roundness of the moon.

These humble fans serve multiple purposes. They fan the kitchen fire, shoo away flies and mosquitoes, and provide relief from the scorching summer heat. And if you listen to folk songs, you’ll discover countless charming ways to wield these fans:

“This fan shades my head from the sun’s bright beam,

 Cooling me off, a partner in my daydream.

 This fan, my closest ally in the crowd,

 Shields our whispers, when words are not for the loud.”

Vietnamese hand fans, it seems, are not just impromptu sun-shades but also the elegant accomplices to hushed dialogues, playing the part of a discreet veil over the lips. For the girl, the fan pirouettes into a whispered reproach, a mischievous dance of blame:

“Why do you shield the fan against the lamp’s glow,

 Hiding your face, leaving me in doubt, you know.”

Leaf fans had another crucial role in ancient times: rice fanning. Crafted from bamboo slats, these large and lightweight square fans were once indispensable. As rice was poured from above, the person wielding the fan needed a steady hand, fanning with precision to ensure the chaff was whisked away, allowing the good rice to settle. The grains cascaded down like a golden waterfall, while the chaff scattered like a swarm of flying ants fleeing their nest during a downpour. Meanwhile, the bamboo sieve swelled with plump, aromatic grains.

The easiest fan to make is the areca leaf stem fan, known as “quạt mo” in Vietnamese. You can simply cut the stem into a rectangular shape, ensuring a smaller section remains for the handle, and then flatten it under a stone mortar. Rural folks often had areca trees in their gardens. When summer arrived, they’d fashion these fans. Children would drift into sleep on scorching afternoons, serenaded by their grandma’s rhythmic hum: ‘Bờm has an areca fan; the rich man covets it with three cows and nine buffaloes…’ Despite lavish offers, Bờm stood firm. What finally swayed Bờm? Well, that’s … the tale for another article.

I wonder whether poet Huy Can was holding an areca fan or a leaf fan to lull his sister to sleep in the famous poem “Wistfulness”:

“My dear sister! Rest well, and I shall fan you,

With an open heart, this fan in hand,

Dream birds shall flock, circling your bed.”

Huy Can’s youngest sister succumbed to smallpox while he was studying in Hue. Upon returning home, he stood in shock before her grave at the garden’s edge. He longed for those summer afternoons spent fanning her to sleep. The word “mở” (open) puzzled me for a while. I once thought it meant “mơ” (dream) to align with the notion of “dream birds.” But now I understand – the author intended to “open his heart” one last time, embracing his memory of her as he fanned her into eternal rest

While the poet’s sister had gone into her eternal rest, the areca and leaf fans nearly faced eternal oblivion. Yet, thanks to the dedication of skilled artisans, these fans have been reimagined in contemporary designs. The graceful areca fans, adorned with floral motifs and calligraphy, boast a durable lacquer finish. Meanwhile, the leaf fans, tinted in vibrant hues, are woven into distinctive masterpieces, preserving their legacy for generations to come.

Paper Fans – Gilt Fans

Nestled in the heart of Vac village, officially known as Canh Hoach (Thanh Oai district, Hanoi), there’s a communal house that treasures a remarkable relic: an 18th-century large silk fan. This fan boasts a robust buffalo horn rim and a canvas adorned with the depiction of two dragons in pursuit of pearls. On the altar, a large image of a fan is displayed, flanked by two verses inscribed with the valor of ancient times: 

“Fanning the south, north, west, and east,

Till valor and spirit in our land find their eternal feast.”

In the 18th century, Mr. Mai Duc Sieu shared his fan-making skills with the people in Vac village. The fans they make are durable and look great, thanks to their clever needlework. When the artists get to work, you can hear the needles tapping away as they bring out cool designs on the paper. These patterns are so detailed like a painting. Hold the fan up to the light, you’ll see all sorts of things pop out on the dark purple surface like dragons flying, clouds floating, and all kinds of animals and flowers.

The paper fans of Vac village possess another remarkable quality: they remain undamaged even when accidentally dropped into water. The process begins with old bamboo, which undergoes thorough soaking for an entire year. Then it is meticulously thinned out and smoothed to create the fan blades. The rims are adorned with black buffalo horn carved with elaborate patterns, serving a dual purpose: protecting the fan when folded and adding a touch of luxury. 

The fan paper hails from Bac Ninh where the tradition of crafting mulberry paper has been passed down through generations. This paper is not only smooth to the touch but also remarkably durable, ensuring the fan withstands the test of time. The glue used to attach paper to bamboo blades follows an age-old recipe. Derived from wild almond fruit, this adhesive binds the elements seamlessly.

Sadly, as of 2024, only a handful of families in Vac village continue the tradition of fan-making. Among them is a 60-year-old needle artist bearing the last name Mai, who is likely a descendant of the renowned Mai Duc Sieu. As times have changed, Vac’s skilled artisans have shifted their focus to crafting bird cages whose demand is higher than fans. If the paper fans of Vac village had a voice, they would have softly echoed the melodies of an ancient folk song:

“Who brought this fan with edges sharp and neat,

Its paper sighs of sadness, a pattern of defeat.

To hold it is to know a soft, deep blue,

A weight of the heart, simple and true.”

Chang Son, located in Thach That district of Hanoi, is another remarkable heirloom fan village akin to Vac. This village has embraced contemporary trends by crafting large-sized decorative fans and tailoring paper fans to consumer preferences. 

Chang Son’s decorative fans have secured several national records for their impressive size and are exported to numerous countries. Their paper fans are truly captivating with picturesque landscapes, elegant calligraphy, modern motifs, and artistic logos. To enhance skill and productivity, the fan-making process is distributed among different artisans. Additionally, the village hosts fan-making lessons and offers tours of its ancient heritage.

Chang Son fans deftly intertwine traditional craftsmanship, cultural heritage, and tourism, forging a deep connection between people and hand fans like this charming folk song:

“Outside delicate paper, inside sturdy bones,

Cradle the fan, feel a connection with the artisan.”

Scholar Le Quy Don referenced gilt fans from the 18th century. These gilt fans served both worship and decorative purposes. In Son Dong village of Hoai Duc district, Hanoi, artisans have honed their skills for centuries, specializing in creating statues and worship objects. Among their exquisite creations are gilt fans which are meticulously carved and skillfully plated with gold. These fans serve not just as ornaments for spaces but also embody good fortune in feng shui, making them prized possessions among discerning customers.

“Upon a fan with eighteen blades, 

I etch my love for you, like whispered serenades.”

(Nguyen Binh, “The Fan”)

Vietnamese hand fans have truly surprised me and won my heart. From simple areca and leaf fans to the elaborate paper and gold-trimmed ones, each carries a warmth and charm that enchants all who see them. Immersed in these fans, their folk songs, and poetry, I wonder if I’ve become a bit too “poetic” myself. Has their spell been cast upon you as well?

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