Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 brill.com/asme Book Review Forum ∵ Imagining Chinese Medicine Michael Sappol Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden michael.sappol@idehist.uu.se Vivienne Lo University College London, London, UK v.lo@ucl.ac.uk Penelope Barrett University College London, London UK p.barrett@ucl.ac.uk Abstract Asian Medicine is inaugurating a new type of article in this issue, the book review forum. For our launch of this new format, we have invited an extended review of a recently published landmark volume in our field and a response to the review from the volume editors. Keywords Chinese medicine – images – sinology © Sappol, Lo and Barrett, 2021 | doi:10.1163/15734218-12341476 This is an open access article distributed under the terms of the CC BY 4.0 license. 328 Sappol, Lo, and Barrett Vivienne Lo and Penelope Barrett, eds., Imagining Chinese Medicine. Leiden: Brill, 2018. Pp. xxii + 519. $144.00 Hardback, Open Access download, ISBN 978-90-04-36618-3. A Disclaimer I’m no scholar of Chinese medicine. And when asked to review this volume, I hesitated. I have only a passing knowledge of Chinese history, no facility with Chinese or other Asian languages, no special feel for Chinese ways of seeing and doing. I work on the visual culture and performance of Western medicine and science, mostly the history of anatomy, medical illustration, and “the body” between 1750 and 1950. So this is an outsider’s take. Imagining Chinese Medicine is a big, highly specialized omnibus volume, which stands as a monument to the diversity and empirical richness of current work. Viewed from my vantage point, it is immediately apparent that some of its articles have the same theoretical and disciplinary commitments as the peer-reviewed scholarship in journals like Past & Present, American Historical Review, Art History, Bulletin of the History of Medicine, etc. Others are in an entirely different, Chinese, philological mode. And still others eclectically mix Western-style history, anthropology, sociology with Chinese philology and some admixture of Buddhist, Daoist, Confucian religious-philosophical discourse—a kind of scholarly wisdom literature. The authors are current or former natives of China, and natives of other lands. They are academics in Western university departments in the humanities and social sciences; practitioners of Eastern religions, martial arts, acupuncture, and other kinds of Chinese medicine; scholars in the Chinese philological tradition (as it was salvaged from the wreckage of the Cultural Revolution or protected abroad); or some combination of all of the above. Put that together with source materials that range from roughly 200 BCE to the twenty-first century, produced over an enormous geographical area: Korea, Japan, and the Mongolian and Turkic borderlands, as well as Manchuria, Tibet, and most of the other regions governed by the present-day People’s Republic of China. With only a light editorial hand tying together the thirty-six articles (plus introduction), the result is bounteous, uneven, productively noisy. But also confusing, with some incoherence, repetition, and contradiction (along with many typos and stylistic inconsistencies). And that makes it especially confusing for an outsider. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 Imagining Chinese Medicine 329 Entitlement The confusion is partly conceptual, baked into the title. Imagining Chinese Medicine (ICM) is misleading, a problematic placeholder. For one thing, “imagining” raises questions that Vivienne Lo’s otherwise excellent introduction doesn’t bother to address—for good reason, I think: while every work of scholarship is in some sense a work of imaginative reconstruction, none of the contributors defines or discusses “imagining” as an analytical device, method, or indigenous concept. No one theorizes “imagination.”1 Tellingly, other more apt -ing words recur throughout: “imaging,” “depicting,” “picturing,” “illustrating,” “drawing,” “sketching,” “embodying,” “representing.” Lo’s introduction rightly focuses on “medical images,” “looking,” “visual culture,” “visual styles.” Other words that appear in the article titles: “illustrations,” “charts,” “images,” “imagery,” “iconography,” “visualisations,” “inscriptions,” “visual language,” “murals,” “art.” That makes sense, because ICM is first and foremost about representations of “the body” and body parts in two- and three-dimensional media—the generic body, not particular human bodies and body parts. The medicine under discussion takes place in sculpture, drawing, painting, ideograms, books, posters, flyers. We get discussions of historical images in relation to historical texts, performance, exercise, diagnosis, therapy, meditation—embodied life. More properly, the articles are about “image/texts” (W. J. T. Mitchell’s useful formulation) and “image/text/diagrams”—objects that fuse representational and metaphorical images, captions, expository text, and geometrical patterns. These images encode beliefs, instructions, knowledge, wisdom, and numbers (lots of numbers); they exert power on everyone involved (including present-day scholars, practitioners, patients, and readers). The volume is not about “imagining practice” (Lo, 69) but rather about situating the image within practice, and practice within the image. “Image” is the category of analysis, and “imaging” is the active production and activation of images. Those terms, of course, come with their own baggage. In visual culture studies, “image” is associated with the attempt to find an English equivalent for the multifarious German Bild, a word that suggests 1 This book is not about the discrepancy between the real and the fictive body, the mediation between them, the impossibility of unmediated experience. Had the editors and contributors wanted to have a go at “imagining,” they could have modeled and explicated larger “imaginaries” that animate the source materials under question. “Imaginary,” a current term of art (mostly derived from the work of French psychoanalyst-philosopher Jacques Lacan), is typically used to suggest that fictive constructs powerfully structure how people conceive of themselves and their world, and at the same time generate alternative or oppositional scenarios. Another way to go with imagining would be to look at Western writers (Marco Polo, Athanasius Kircher, et al.) who imagined China and at how Chinese writers used the West to define themselves in opposition. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 330 Sappol, Lo, and Barrett construction and development, the image in action, as a constitutive agent. Maybe the editors or press wanted to avoid that. Or maybe they wanted to avoid any association with, or equivalence to, present-day “medical imaging” technologies, which are embedded in bioscience and which claim a higher epistemological status than the handcrafted images under consideration here. Or maybe there was some other reason. No matter, I wish that Lo and the contributors had laid down a marker on “images” and explicitly argued that scholars of Chinese medicine need to attend to images, as they do to text, with close and contextual readings, genre analysis, material analysis. To say it plainly: images do a special kind of work, have their own peculiar qualities. There are semiotics, ways of reading, which are especially attuned to images, image production, and image use. Scholars need to know and develop them. What ICM wants to do—but Lo’s introduction doesn’t quite propose—is give the scholarship of East Asian medicine a visual turn. If so, that would seem to call for an ample discussion of “the visual turn” in Western scholarship, and turns within the turn (iconology, actor-network theory, aisthesis, visual rhetoric, queer theory, performativity, Bildakt theory, etc.)—and a discussion of how the study of East Asian medical images can benefit from that highly sophisticated work. And, just as importantly, what the study of East Asian medical images can contribute to visual-turned scholarship, hopefully an enriching diversification of objects, but maybe also theoretical challenges and provocations arising from differences between East Asian and Western image practice. The richness of the images of East Asian medicine, and the potential value of such an approach, are amply demonstrated over the breadth of the volume—but ICM doesn’t venture far from its territorial limits, doesn’t address readers of the Journal of Visual Culture, Art Journal, Art History, Configurations, Representations, Critical Inquiry, etc. Sinicity Even so, it does quite a lot. The contributors use visual artifacts to imaginatively reconstruct people, careers, events, rituals, cultural logics, as they changed over time (and in the case of Elisabeth Hsu’s provocative article, “The Iconography of Time,” 89–100, as they represent time). The articles consider visual materials produced over a period of roughly two and a half millennia: tomb paintings and manikins, cave paintings, illustrated book and scroll manuscripts, woodblock-printed books and charts, movable-type printed books, labels, advertisements, comic books, etc. From these, we learn about pulsereading, tongue-reading, face-reading, divination, astrology, and other nosologies; herbal remedies, cauterization, moxibustion, bleeding, acupuncture, acupressure, exercise movements, meditation, religious ritual, surgery; equine Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 Imagining Chinese Medicine 331 veterinary medicine; materia medica; medical advertising; forensic medicine; midwifery; military medicine; transcultural contacts and movements; modernization; the history of book and print culture in China; and the copying and circulation of texts and images. But not just images: “Chinese” images. What difference does “Chinese-ness” make to image production, image use, and image theory? The question, of course, extends far beyond the medical image and the technical image. Do Chinese images share a common aesthetic or deep grammar or vocabulary or palette that gives them their “Chinese-ness”? How does an image (whether medical or nonmedical) get to be “Chinese”? Historically, what criteria have governed the image in China? What made an image legible or competent? Who or what institutions, cultural practices affirmed or policed the image, promoted and enforced the look of things?2 When we get to the twentieth century, when some of the iconographic practices of Western advertising are adopted/ adapted by Chinese actors in Chinese locations, what “deep grammar,” if any, persists? What happens in the Communist era, when wall-postering becomes a vital part of the regime’s media apparatus? Is there a new modern Chinese-ness? Maoist Chinese-ness? (ICM mostly overlooks the Communist era.) Such questions imply an expanded frame, put the larger history of image in play. What do Chinese medical images do that medieval, early modern, or early twentieth-century Western images do not? And what does that difference tell us? Of course, the Chinese-ness of Chinese images is itself a hybrid, a coming together of indigenous and outside tropes and aesthetics. Some of the most interesting stuff in ICM is about iconographic exchanges between China, Tibet, India, Persia, and the West. And some of the articles in ICM are entirely about Tibetan medical images, which have a very different look, and which, the writers of this volume mostly make plain, are in important respects not Chinese medicine. Those aesthetic and formal differences can tell us a lot about Chinese and Tibetan image practice, but, again, also about the Western image (which, of course, is itself an utterly hybridized thing, changed by encounters with the art of Africa, Persia, China, Japan, etc.). In other words, we need the comparative approach … But comparativity is not easy, requires competence not just in one body of scholarship and one body of source materials, but two or more. 2 I pose these as historical, empirical, aesthetic, critical, maybe technical questions, as difficult to answer as they may be. If the Chinese images under consideration in ICM look different from Western images—and not just because the figures have Chinese features and dress and are in close proximity to Chinese writing—what makes them so? Do they, over a longue durée, share a matrix of aesthetic, compositional principles, color relations, line and texture relations, etc.? Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 332 Sappol, Lo, and Barrett What I Learned I hope that all of the above is not unduly critical. I learned a lot from reading this volume. Here, from my notes, is a numbered list, some of them contradictory. (None of which will come as news to scholars of East Asian medicine.) 1) The history of the Chinese medical image is in part a history of governmentality and regime, cultural exchange, state formation, imperialism, and nationalism. Dynasties, emperors, bureaucrats, and imperial decrees matter. As do invasions; the nineteenth-century encounter with Western powers, imperialism, and culture; the KMT republic and modernization movements; Japanese imperialism and occupation; the Communist Revolution of 1949, the Cultural Revolution, and the reign of Xi Jinping. Also the coming of Eastern medicine, philosophy, and martial arts to the West. 2) There was in Chinese medicine a complex semiotics and politics of image and text, just as in the West, which was not only about the content but also about the material object. (A beautiful illustrated book was a symbol of wealth and power.) Unlike the West, that politics was/is mediated by ideogrammatical practice, the encoding of image in the ideogram. 3) Chinese medicine is heterogeneous, blends in varying degrees precepts of Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism, astrology, and indigenous/ local religious practice. Medicine became Chinese—and canonically medical—through the policies and decrees of Chinese state regimes and also Mongol and Manchu state regimes, with continuing admixtures of influences from Tibet, Persia, India, Japan, and other non-Chinese medical texts and practices; later, through early modern and modern encounters with Western medicine and culture. 4) Chinese medicine possesses historical coherence. Over many centuries, Chinese medicine was consolidated and made consistent, and conserved, by the copying and recopying, compilation and recompilation, of texts and images. But how widely did such texts/images circulate? What were the limits and conditions of their circulation? Which vernacular medical practices were excluded, which were assimilated? 5) Chinese medicine is fragmentary and inconsistent, constructed and reconstructed. Much of it was transmitted orally, as the passing on of secret knowledge, which we can partly reconstruct from texts. Much of it was transmitted in writing, via texts that were damaged or entirely destroyed. Some of those were accidentally destroyed by conquest or neglect; some, deliberately by state policy (e.g., the Cultural Revolution). Much has been lost. 6) The history of anatomy in China remains poorly understood. Lo asserts that Western scholarship that describes China as lacking an anatomical or Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 Imagining Chinese Medicine 7) 333 surgical or empirical tradition is wrong or “overstated” (“Introduction,” 1). But according to Catherine Despeux, China doesn’t have much of an anatomical or surgical tradition. Even so, Despeux and Wang Shumin assert, Chinese anatomy was in some respects more advanced than that of the West until the sixteenth century—that is, before the Western “anatomical revolution” of Vesalius and his peers and successors (Despeux, “Picturing the Body,” 57–67).3 While “there were no absolute prohibitions on cutting up and displaying the corporeal depths” (Wang Shumin, “Chinese Medical Illustration,” 47), after an early initial round of anatomical images made in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, based on the medical observation of the (punitive?) dissection of captured rebels, images of the viscera were few in number and generic, and images of the skeleton and muscles even fewer, and these were not based on actual observation or depiction of dissections but instead recycled copies of predecessor illustrations. But unlike in the West, these seem to have generated no interest in dissection of the body or sustained program of anatomical study until the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when interest was prompted by contact with the West. (There’s no mention of the “Manchu Anatomy,” the early eighteenth-century anatomical atlas commissioned by the Kangxi Emperor.) Despeux dispatches the impact of early modern and modern European anatomical atlases in a few brief paragraphs. I was disappointed that the encounter with Western anatomy (the object of much of my scholarship) didn’t get more coverage in this volume. I wonder why.4 The images of Chinese medicine are “performative,” which is to say that they are multivalent productions that act on the reader and do not merely express and archive knowledge and belief. Several of the authors suggest that the image can take on a kind of numinous magical power, serve as a prop in the performance of a ritual, or as the centerpiece of a virtual, imaginary ritual. The mere possession of such an image performs something. But of course the words of Chinese medicine are also performative. And performativity is not just a property of nonscientific ritual medicine. The texts and illustrations of Western medicine (Galen, Vesalius, Harvey, Watson and Crick, etc.) also perform. If so, performativity is a powerful analytical tool, opens up descriptive vocabularies that allow us to differentiate types of 3 “In China dissection had far less impact than it did in the West” (57). A more fully comparative approach would have to engage with recent scholarship on anatomy in the West. Despeux’s potted history of anatomical dissection in Western Europe is based on Grmek and Bernabeo’s outdated 1997 textbook. 4 For a fuller discussion, see Despeux 2007. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 334 Sappol, Lo, and Barrett performativity/performance: tactics, strategies, political and social meaning. (I’m thinking here of Judith Butler’s work on gender performativity, and Erving Goffman’s adaptation of a descriptive vocabulary of theatrical staging in social performance in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.) 8) The images and conceptual categories of Chinese medicine have metaphorologies, are enmeshed in correspondences between things, enmeshed in systems of correspondences. Metaphor is pervasive, obligatory. But is there any larger logic that orders them (as Foucault suggested in The Order of Things)? Or is incoherence tolerated, even cultivated? For example, one Mawangdui manuscript refers to the vagina as “the red pearl,” but its aromas are those of “the smelly rat.” 9) Chinese medicine collapses time. Scholars working on Western medicine do not usually attempt to cover a thousand years (give or take a few centuries), as do some of the articles here. That longue durée perhaps makes sense because of the conservative praxis of Chinese medicine, the continual copying and compiling of ancient texts, and the foundationalist imperative to base current practice on precedent. But maybe some of the contributors to ICM obey and therefore uncritically perpetuate that same imperative to cite/recite precedent. 10) There are strong numerological traditions within Chinese medicine. Nearly everything in the human body and embodied existence has a number or is part of a series that can be numbered and assimilated into numerological systems that draw on correspondences between numbers in different registers. This propensity to number and discourse upon numbering—the proliferation of numbers and enumerated lists—is represented in the images of Chinese medicine and echoed in some of the scholarship here and will be of interest especially to scholars of historical numerology. What Is to Be Done In the circles of scholarship that I participate in, the seed of an article collection usually comes from a batch of papers presented at a conference, workshop, or panel by people who band together as an academic club or clique or cohort of like-minded scholars. They may vary in background, degrees of sophistication, seniority, concerns, theoretical commitments, but mostly they tend to support a common discipline, methods, subject matter. The disagreements are usually at the edges, or contained within a structured debate, or pitched against outsiders. The numerous and various contributors to ICM also do not argue with each other—that would be impolite—but let’s imagine they did. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 Imagining Chinese Medicine 335 There might be war. The articles sound discordant ideological, philosophical, political notes: Chinese PRC nationalism, Tibetan emancipation, postcolonial critique, ecumenical mysticism, philological esotericism, Buddhism, Daoism, Qigongism, poststructuralism, feminism. There is a community of sorts, broad sympathy perhaps, shared respect perhaps, but no shared methodology or philosophy or politics, and once you move into the twentieth century, away from the transmission of ancient images and texts, maybe not even a shared subject. A productive mess. ICM, I suspect, will become an essential resource for current and future scholars, somewhere between a work of reference and an index of the current state of the art. There is the beginning of an opening—you can see it in the glancing references to W. J. T. Mitchell, Sander Gilman, Martin Kemp, Ludmilla Jordanova, performativity, Foucault, and “the body.” But the volume as a whole doesn’t really engage with current scholarship in art history, media history, visual culture, the history of Western medicine and anatomy, and the other subdisciplines. From my (admittedly parochial) vantage point, the thing to do is to get past that. When it comes, I hope the opening up will face in two directions, like Shigehisa Kuriyama’s The Expressiveness of the Body and the Divergence of Greek and Chinese Medicine (1999), which brilliantly used Chinese medical ideas to shed light on Greek medicine, and vice versa, a two-way exchange. I’m envisioning conferences, monographs, and articles that would take a comparative approach to the iconography of Western and Eastern medicine, use the critical concepts and vocabulary of Western medical, media, and art history, science and technology studies, and image theory to shake up the scholarship on Eastern medicine—and vice versa. And use the images and conceptual categories of East Asian medicine to challenge and enrich the critical concepts and vocabulary of Western historiography, anthropology, cultural studies, iconology, actor-network theory, etc. We need to generate manifestos, draw lines, provoke argument and discussion, open up the field of East Asian medicine from inside out and outside in. What would come out of it: new theories, concepts, categories of analysis, descriptive terms, objects of research. Michael Sappol Response from the Authors: We are grateful to Michael Sappol for his thoughtful response. We see that he found the book challenging on many levels. Let me deal first with his comments about the title and the double (or triple) entendre that is embodied in the three words Imagining Chinese Medicine. What do we mean by “imagining,” Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 336 Sappol, Lo, and Barrett “Chinese,” and “medicine”? Penny Barrett and I had long and tortuous discussions about each one of these slippery terms, and I was in favor of dropping at least the “Chinese” part altogether, since there is much here about connections with the Arabic, Tibetan, and Japanese worlds as well as about transcultural healing. And much of the book is concerned with religious healing rather than any professionally or imperially endorsed and sponsored medicine that can be labeled Chinese in any narrow way. But she argued that if the volume’s title didn’t specify a geopolitical location and a general topic, nobody would have any sense of what the book was about. The trick of imagining then is that while it points to the bountiful body of images themselves, it also interrogates the imagination of a monolithic Chinese nation or empire in the minds of people who have been invested in shaping a discrete, culturally specific “medicine.” If you look at the plethora of cultural influences and healing modalities covered in the volume, you will get some sense of how diverse and interconnected healing in China has been despite, and because of, its grand and eclectic scholarly literature. And this is exactly our point. You will not find the kind of comparative history in this volume that Dr. Sappol seems to be looking for, because the imagination of a coherent and pervasive Chinese tradition is illusory, ephemeral. Those who have tried to capture it, as a counterpoint to a Western tradition, inevitably run the risk of essentializing the subject in crude and unsustainable ways. In this volume we have preferred to engage with scholars who know that from its beginnings China was in constant contact with many other cultural centers and that there were multiple exchanges of both know-how and conceptual knowledge. We are not afraid of complexity. On Dr. Sappol’s most far-reaching criticism, that our authors do not engage explicitly with critical theory in the visual arts and the “visual turn” of the last decades: this is entirely true—although he himself notes that many of us use approaches and methods that have been honed in that context. While none of us would presume to claim special expertise in visual culture studies, the authors he refers to (Foucault, Mitchell, Gilman, Jordanova) are part of our common intellectual bedrock. They are in the air we breathe. But the “visual turn” he writes of has been unapologetically Eurocentric, and when it engages with Chinese material, all too often this is done with little knowledge and an orientalist agenda. How many histories of ancient, medieval, and modern medicine are there that do not even acknowledge the existence of “other” traditions than the Euro-American, let alone present them? To readjust the balance we did not invite contributions on subjects of “Western” influence on China. The “Manchu Anatomy” is a great starting point for thinking about collaboration and collusion in the production of knowledge, among many other things, but it is already well served by excellent scholars. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 Imagining Chinese Medicine 337 In the international community that we inhabit, there are many common issues and key figures. One such scholar, whose work may be unfamiliar to those who do not read Chinese, is Professor Ma Jixing, to whom I dedicated the book, and who has been part of a visual turn in the study of Chinese medicine for longer than any of us can remember. And there are many other giants of the visual turn in Chinese studies, such as Huang Longxiang, who contributed to this volume. This brings us to my last point about the nature of argument in this volume. Dr. Sappol mentions some apparent contradictions in the scholarship and takes issue with our “light editorial hand.” But many of our authors are engaged in building cutting-edge, radical arguments that fly in the face of existing scholarship. For instance, Catherine Despeux’s chapter, which Dr. Sappol singles out for comment, is a tour de force and upsets the accepted wisdom that anatomy is an exclusively European tradition, key to the construction of a European scientific modernity. As Dr. Sappol rightly notes, Despeux is too careful a scholar to make inflated claims for China’s indigenous anatomical tradition, but the evidence that she presents for the existence and endurance of that indigenous tradition (with reliable textual records of dissection dating to before the Common Era) is profoundly important and absolutely compelling. Name one anatomical illustration in the classical Greek tradition! Is there anything in European visual history to match the rich premodern anatomical tradition that existed in numerous medical and religious contexts and is demonstrated so comprehensively and collectively by Wang, Lo, Despeux, Buell, and He, for example? The impact of this knowledge on the global medieval world is only now beginning to be understood and still requires much more investment of time and cross-cultural linguistic and historical expertise. These authors are all involved in constructing powerful arguments and in tracing little-known knowledge transmissions. If they are disinclined to call out fellow scholars for errors, to engage directly in academic wars, this is not so much because “that would be impolite,” as because they are well aware that everyone who contributes to this field has sweated blood in the process and deserves better. This kind of adversarial, argument-led rhetoric (that I have to teach to undergraduates for my daily bread) has its place but pales into insignificance when set against the empirical work and years of research that have gone into most of the chapters in this collection. It should also be remembered that (pace Sappol), the book grew out of a Chinese-language conference volume.5 In the—long and arduous—process of crafting this much-expanded version for an English-speaking audience, we tried to retain the exploratory, open-ended character of the original text and of the original, groundbreaking conference and to avoid the temptation to tidy 5 Wang and Lo 2007. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338 338 Sappol, Lo, and Barrett up the collection too much for the sake of superficial coherence. To do otherwise would have been both reductive and unfair to the authors represented here. If this is what Dr. Sappol means by a “productive mess,” we are very happy to embrace that description. Finally, Dr. Sappol is quite right in saying that we could have focused on one or other of the many genres of medical images covered by our authors. But that would again have been a very different book. Take a look at Francesca Bray’s extraordinary introduction to the illustrations known as tu 圖6 and you will see what an undertaking it would have been to introduce properly any one of the genres represented in this volume. This is a rich and proudly eclectic introduction to the power of images in the communication of medical and healing knowledge. It does not claim to be anything more, or less. As I conclude in the introduction to the volume, this preliminary offering is “made in the hope that others will pick up the challenge to use visual culture as a way of understanding China’s medical past, and how China’s past might contribute to contemporary knowledge. The authors are largely historians or anthropologists. Some of us have a longstanding interest in working with visual material; for some it was a new, and fascinating, departure…. We look forward with interest and excitement to seeing what new insights … interdisciplinary conversations will bring.” We thank Michael Sappol for his contribution to these conversations. Vivienne Lo and Penelope Barrett Bibliography Bray, Francesca. 2007. “Introduction: The Powers of Tu.” In Graphics and Text in the Production of Technical Knowledge in China: The Warp and the Weft, edited by Francesca Bray, Vera Dorofeeva-Lichtmann, and Georges Métailié, 1–78. Leiden: Brill. Despeux, Catherine. 2007. “The Body Revealed.” In Graphics and Text in the Production of Technical Knowledge in China: The Warp and Weft, edited by Francesca Bray, Vera Dorofeeva-Lichtmann, and Georges Métailié, 637–84. Leiden: Brill. Wang Shumin and Vivienne Lo, eds. 2007. Xingxiang Zhongyi 形象中醫. Beijing: Renmin weisheng chubanshe. 6 Bray 2007. Asian Medicine 15 (2020) 327–338