The sound of tea: Composer and conductor Tan Dun on ritual, rhythm and reinvention
TEA-liuzi merges the tea-making rhythms of Xiangxi with percussion and introduces the first-ever Hong Kong Women’s Percussion Ensemble. How does this collaboration advance both tradition and innovation in Chinese music?
During my research in Xiangxi, I discovered the Tujia people using trained monkeys to pick tea from dangerous cliffs. But most of the tea-pickers were women. That inspired me to retell their story using female percussionists—to express both the physical strength and the spiritual rhythm of tea picking. This vision led to the founding of the Hong Kong Women’s Percussion Ensemble, where Tujia tradition meets Hong Kong’s modern voices.
Percussion, by nature, is full of contrasts, and the women’s ensemble brings in raw, powerful energy. It creates a dialogue between the ancient Tujia daliuzi rhythms (traditionally performed by men) and the modern all-female voices of female percussionists from Hong Kong. Through this fusion, we’re not just preserving tradition but creating something new and innovative.
With The Vanishing Mogao Caves and your recreation of Tang dynasty instruments, what have you discovered about ancient music’s power to resonate today?
The Mogao Caves haven’t just preserved Tang Dynasty art and music—they have preserved a deeper belief. Music inspired by the caves isn’t just about ancient sounds—it has given voice to something timeless. Music is comparable to light not visible to human eyes, or songs not audible by human ears.
Tea plays a symbolic and sonic role in this year’s WE-Festival. What makes tea such a powerful medium for storytelling?
Tea is universal. Every culture has its own tea—from Kyoto’s whisked matcha to Morocco’s sweet mint tea. It connects people everywhere, subtly and spiritually. Tea rituals are like a gentle prayer whispered in a thousand different languages. Ideas, friendships, even empires have been shaped over tea—it’s a ritual of connection.
This year’s WE-Festival blends world premieres with historical restagings. How do you maintain cultural integrity while introducing contemporary elements?
The term “world premiere” isn’t just a single event—it’s like watching a flower bloom after years of sustained nourishment. We see premieres as something richer and slower, like cultures quietly transforming together. Here, art comes out of our shared emotions, memories and conversations that cross borders. Our “WE” stands for many things—connection between people, where shared motivation turns into art; convergence of West and East, mingled together, like tea leaves steeping in a shared cup; and creation that moves forward without forgetting
its roots.
You’ve mentored young Hong Kong artists. How are they reinterpreting Chinese culture, and what legacy do you hope to pass on?
We all began as insecure young artists; great teachers shaped us. Success means mastering the moment and daring to innovate. I tell my students: don’t duplicate tradition—honour it but reinvent it. We exist to create.
Life isn’t just about taking from nature or our cultural heritage, but about giving back, leaving the world better than we found it. We each have a power on this earth. Like a river, we flow from the past while carving out new paths forward—live with nature and shape the future with tradition. That’s what matters.
Your work Dongpo: Life in Poems blends calligraphy, guqin, martial arts and dance. How do you balance preserving traditional Chinese art forms while expressing them through modern performance?
For me, it’s not about replicating tradition, but capturing the essence of the Chinese tradition—the texture, the philosophy, the spirit. I’ve spent over 30 years developing a language that can translate these deep, traditional forms into something contemporary. It takes time. To do it well, you must understand both the gist of the past and the nature of modern experience.
How did you go about transforming Su Dongpo’s poetry into a multi-sensory performance for modern audiences?
Dongpo’s poetry contains so much emotion and philosophy—but translating that into movement requires more than just appreciation. It’s about finding the spirit within each poem and expressing that through physical language. Dongpo’s wisdom—his ideas about beauty, nature and life—can relate to everyone. Today’s audiences interpret meaning very differently from those in the Song dynasty, so we must find new ways to connect, without losing the soul of the original work.
What drew you to Su Dongpo specifically?
I’ve always loved his work. From over 3,000 poems, I chose a few that truly reflect his essence. This performance isn’t just for audiences already familiar with Chinese tradition—it’s for anyone. Poetry can speak across cultures and centuries. When this work was performed at the Kennedy Center and Lincoln Center, many people who knew nothing about Dongpo or Chinese culture still felt deeply moved. That’s what art can do: it transcends knowledge and touches feeling.
How do you ensure your reinterpretations remain respectful to the heritage they draw from?
You have to know the heritage—the culture and the beauty—to honour it. I have studied Chinese opera and painting for years—once you understand the value of that knowledge, it naturally becomes part of your creative process. My aim is not to imitate, but to carry tradition forward, giving it new form and vitality for a new audience.
What do you hope Dongpo: Life in Poems will leave behind?
This is one of the deepest works I’ve created—more than two years in the making. I hope it becomes a bridge between tradition and innovation, and between Chinese culture and the wider world. It’s not just about looking back—it’s about growing something new from what we’ve inherited. I’ve been exploring these ideas my whole life, not just in this production. My hope is that young choreographers and directors see how we can build something contemporary from the Song Dynasty’s artistic legacy—not by copying it, but by transforming it into something relevant. Dongpo: Life in Poems carries the spirit of that time, but it’s also a message to the future.
These interviews are part of the Chinese Culture Festival 2025
