30-Second Summary: In 2023, Pieli Multimedia's revenue exceeded NT$6 billion, outperforming many listed companies—this company sells not phones or chips, but papery puppet theater. From the 97% viewership miracle achieved by Huang Jun-xiong’s The Great Scholar of Yunzhou in the 1970s to Su Huan-zhen conquering the Japanese anime market today, Taiwanese traditional art has forged an unexpected path: not being preserved in museums, but being transformed in the marketplace, ultimately saving tradition itself.
The Cultural Revolution Behind 97% Viewership
In 1970, when Huang Jun-xiong’s The Great Scholar of Yunzhou first aired on TAI TV, no one imagined that this puppet performance would create a miracle in Taiwanese television history. What did the super high viewership of 97% mean? It meant that out of every 100 Taiwanese with a television, 97 were watching Shi Yanwen.
Farmers put down their hoes to watch the papery puppets; factories paused for 30 minutes so workers could catch the show; even government offices saw reduced efficiency—this was not entertainment, it was a collective obsession across the island. At that time, Taiwan's total population was about 15 million, and The Great Scholar of Yunzhou had over 10 million viewers per episode, a figure impossible to replicate in today’s fragmented media era.
But the real revolution was not in the viewership numbers, but in the transformation itself. Papery puppet theater was originally local temple performance art; Huang Jun-xiong brought it into the living room, turning it from religious ritual into family entertainment. The depth of this change more thoroughly reshaped how Taiwanese people imagined traditional art than any cultural policy could.
The government's panic is understandable. In 1974, the Kuomintang banned all Taiwanese dialect papery puppet theater under the guise of "promoting Mandarin," which was a superficial reason for genuine cultural anxiety. When traditional art could mobilize greater social energy than governmental directives, it ceased to be mere art and became something more dangerous: an awakening of cultural subjectivity.
The Business Code of the Pieli Empire
After the decade-long ban, Huang Jun-xiong’s sons, Huang Chang-hua and Huang Wen-ze, chose not to return to television stations but instead founded an unprecedented business model: a creative industry empire that directly engages consumers.
Pieli Multimedia, established in 1985, built its own distribution kingdom using videotapes. This decision seemed conservative but was actually extremely forward-thinking—they understood a commercial truth better than anyone: content is king, and distribution is secondary.
The numbers speak for themselves: Pieli produces over 200 episodes of papery puppet theater annually, with each episode costing about NT$3 to 5 million to produce. A series of 50 episodes requires an investment of up to NT$250 million, a budget that qualifies as A-list production in the Taiwanese film and television industry. But Pieli's revenue model is even more astonishing: besides the plays themselves, there are merchandise, game licensing, theme park ventures, and international rights exports. With total revenues exceeding NT$6 billion in 2023, employing over 400 people, it stands as an invisible unicorn in Taiwan’s creative industry.
Cooperation with Japan further proves the international value of Taiwanese traditional art. The Chronicle of Eastern Departure (東離劍遊紀), scripted by Xu Yuan-xuan and produced by Pieli for puppetry, created a phenomenon in Japan. A local performance from 17th-century Quanzhou eventually found a new audience base in the 21st-century Japanese anime market—the complexity of this cultural flow cannot be designed by any cultural preservation policy.
Opera (Gezaixi): From Wandering to the International Stage
If the miracle of papery puppet theater lies in commercialization, the miracle of opera (Gezaixi) lies in becoming "more foreign" from its most rustic roots.
Opera was originally local entertainment in Yilan—a popular performance involving singing and storytelling. In the 1920s, it evolved into "indoor opera"; in the 1950s, it moved to television as "TV opera." Each transformation represented a movement from the periphery toward the center. During the era of the Four Heavenly Kings—Yang Li-hua, Ye Qing, Huang Xiang-lian, and Chen Ya-lan—opera was one of Taiwan's most representative performing arts.
The 2023 performance at the Aix-en-Provence Festival in France is worth deep consideration: A performance of Sanxi (散戲) made the French audience stand up and applaud for 15 minutes. The language barrier was overcome by emotional connection. This proves a universal value of Taiwanese traditional art—it is appreciated not because of "Eastern mystery," but because of the power of the art itself.
Contemporary opera faces not an existential crisis, but a choice: should it maintain "traditional purity" or embrace "modern possibility"? Wang You-hui’s Moon Maiden at the Summit incorporates popular music elements, and the Tang Meiyun Opera Troupe's collaborations with the NSO Orchestra are exploring this answer. The result shows that audiences do not want fossilized tradition; they want living art.
Ceramic Sculpture (Jiaozi Tao) and Paper-Cut Appliqué: The Modern Crisis of Temple Art
In contrast to the successful transformations of papery puppet theater and opera, ceramic sculpture (Jiaozi Tao) and paper-cut appliqué face a genuine inheritance crisis.
Statistics from Chiayi show that in the 1980s, there were nearly 200 Jiaozi Tao masters; by 2024, fewer than 30 remain, most of whom are over 60. The problem is not demand—hundreds of temples in Taiwan are still being built or renovated annually—but the massive gap between the skill requirements and economic returns.
It takes a master artisan at least 15 years to train: the first 5 years learning fundamentals (sculpting, firing, glazing); the next 5 years mastering forms (mythological figures, animals, floral motifs, architectural components); and only then can they create independently. Yet, a fine piece of Jiaozi Tao sells for NT$100,000 to 300,000, offering a return on investment far lower than other industries after 15 years of study.
The innovative model at the Ban Tao Kiln Cultural Park is noteworthy. They have expanded Jiaozi Tao from temple decoration into lifestyle aesthetics, developing tea sets, vases, and creative products. The park generated over NT$100 million in annual revenue in 2023, proving the potential of traditional crafts in the consumer market. However, whether this model can be replicated across more craft categories remains unknown.
The Dilemma of Preserving Intangible Cultural Heritage
Taiwan's Cultural Heritage Preservation Act divides intangible cultural heritage into four categories: "Traditional Performing Arts," "Traditional Crafts," "Oral Traditions," and "Folk Customs." As of 2024, there are 127 nationally registered items of intangible cultural heritage, with 89 recognized inheritors (Human Treasures).
But the reality behind these numbers is harsh: over 60% of the inheritors are over 70 years old, and suitable successors cannot be found. The core issue is that the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act treats "skill" as quantifiable "knowledge" that can be recorded and replicated, while ignoring that the essence of traditional art is the "accumulation of experience" and "the practice of life."
Taking Nan Guan music as an example, the government invested tens of millions in digital recording to build a complete score database. However, what true Nan Guan inheritance requires is not just sheet music, but the "flavor"—that subtle perception that can only be passed down through master-apprentice transmission. This "tacit knowledge" cannot be quantified by policy, nor stored in a database.
Japan's "Living National Treasure" system offers a different perspective. They protect not just the skill, but also the "social environment necessary for the skill to survive." A lacquerware master does not just make lacquered goods; they must maintain the health of the entire lacquerware supply chain: from cultivating lacquer trees and harvesting sap to toolmaking and market sales. Skill preservation becomes industrial protection; cultural policy becomes economic policy.
Taiwanese Sword Lion Dance: Folk Belief Art in Disappearance
In Anping, Tainan, the Sword Lion Dance is disappearing at an alarming rate.
During the 1990s census, there were nearly 200 Sword Lion dances in the Anping area; by 2024, only about 60 remain. They are not being destroyed, but "updated"—old houses are demolished and rebuilt, and new houses do not feature Sword Lions. The younger generation moves away from Anping to work in Taipei, selling old houses to developers for construction into townhouses, and the environment for the Sword Lion naturally vanishes.
The predicament of the Sword Lion symbolizes a larger challenge facing Taiwanese traditional art: they are not being destroyed by government policy, but are being naturally eliminated by modernization. When belief structures change, lifestyles change, and aesthetic preferences shift, how can traditional art find a new reason to exist?
The Anping Sword Lion Cultural Preservation Association has tried various methods: Sword Lion guided tours, creative merchandise featuring the dance, and Sword Lion painting activities. In 2023, they even launched "Sword Lion NFTs," attempting to preserve the oldest culture with the newest technology. The effectiveness of these efforts is limited, but they represent an important shift in thinking: from "preserving what exists" to "creating new possibilities."
Rebirth of Traditional Art in the Digital Age
TikTok clips of papery puppet theater have accumulated over 50 million views, and YouTube videos of opera performances approach one million subscribers. These numbers prove a fact underestimated by cultural circles: the younger generation is not completely indifferent to traditional art; they require new modes of engagement.
The "Minghua Garden Theater Troupe's" YouTube channel is an interesting case. They do not just upload complete performances; they also produce diverse content such as "Opera Highlights," "Behind-the-Scenes Footage," and "Actor Interviews." The result showed that the most popular content was not the formal performance, but tutorial videos like "Actors Teach You Opera Movements." Audiences want more than appreciation; they want participation.
VR technology has opened new possibilities for traditional art. In 2023, the National Theater and Concert Hall collaborated with HTC to launch a "VR Opera Experience," allowing viewers to "stand" on stage, observe performance details up close, and even view the audience from an actor's perspective. This immersive experience created unprecedented intimacy for traditional art.
However, digitization is not a panacea. The most successful cases are not those that move tradition online, but those that reimagine tradition using digital thinking. Pieli’s strategy games, Minghua Garden’s livestreams, and the 3D printing of Jiaozi Tao all explore the balance point between "tradition" and "innovation."
The Contradiction and Reflection in Government Policy
Taiwan's cultural policy contains a fundamental contradiction: on one hand, it frames traditional art within museums using the concept of "cultural heritage"; on the other, it expects them to remain vibrant in modern society.
Taking papery puppet theater as an example, the government invested significant resources to establish the "Papery Puppet Theater Cultural Park" and the "Puppet Theater Museum," but what truly kept the art alive was Pieli's commercial innovation. The "Traditional Papery Puppet Theater Preservation Project," supported by the government, trained many highly skilled masters, but their works were only performed at cultural festivals; they lacked an audience, a market, or a space to survive in daily life.
South Korea’s "Culture Technology" policy offers another perspective. They do not treat traditional culture as "heritage that needs protection," but as "resources that need development." Korean court dances are adapted into K-pop elements; traditional Korean instruments are incorporated into modern popular music; and traditional architectural aesthetics are applied to contemporary design. The result is that tradition has not disappeared; instead, it conquers the world in new forms.
Commercialization: Salvation or Destruction?
"Will commercialization destroy the purity of traditional art?" This question arises in every discussion of Taiwanese traditional art. Pieli’s success sharpens this issue: when Su Huan-zhen begins using 3D effects, when plots incorporate modern elements, and when merchandise covers various consumption categories—is it still "traditional" papery puppet theater?
The answer may be: purity has never been the essence of traditional art; vitality is.
When papery puppet theater traveled from Quanzhou, Fujian, to Taiwan, it began localizing and transforming: incorporating Taiwanese historical figures, using the tonal qualities of Tâi-gí (Taiwanese), and blending local religious beliefs. Huang Jun-xiong’s television papery puppets innovated further: shortening plot pacing, enhancing martial arts effects, and introducing popular music elements. Every change has been criticized as "not traditional," but it is precisely these changes that have kept the art alive today.
The experience of opera (Gezaixi) proves the same point. The most "pure" opera is local Yilan opera, but what shines on the international stage is Yang Li-hua's television opera and Minghua Garden’s stage opera—both are "impure" hybrids, yet it is this hybridization that gives them greater vitality.
The real danger is not commercialization, but museification—turning living art into dead exhibits, turning dynamic tradition into static "artifacts."
New Possibilities for Inheritance: Interdisciplinary and Fusion
In 2024, a creative team named "Xin Taiwan Ke" garnered attention in cultural circles. Their work is hard to categorize: using papery puppet techniques to perform modern scripts, interpreting popular songs with opera vocal styles, or creating contemporary sculptures using Jiaozi Tao techniques. The most common question from outsiders is, "Is this still traditional art?"
The creators' answer is simple: "We are not making traditional art; we are making Taiwanese art." This answer points to an important shift: from "preserving tradition" to "creating tradition."
Contemporary creative practices in Taiwan often occur at the boundaries: Lin Hui-min integrates Tai Chi and calligraphy into contemporary dance; Jay Chou incorporates traditional instruments into popular music; Ji Mi integrates ink painting into modern illustration. These creators are not burdened by the weight of "maintaining orthodoxy"; instead, they create new possibilities.
Advances in technology also provide more opportunities for interdisciplinary creation. 3D printing allows Jiaozi Tao forms to be more precise; motion capture allows papery puppet performances to be more detailed; and AI music composition allows traditional music to explore new harmonic structures. These technologies are not meant to replace traditional skills, but to expand their expressive boundaries.
Taiwan's Place in the Global Cultural Ecosystem
On the global cultural map, Taiwanese traditional art is redefining its position. It is no longer just a "local variation of Chinese culture" or a "Taiwanese characteristic influenced by Japanese culture," but a unique "original Taiwanese creation."
Netflix’s international success made the world re-examine Korean culture; Disney+ showed the world the influence of Japanese anime. Where is Taiwan's opportunity? The answer may lie in the modernization and transformation of traditional art. Pieli's cooperation with Japan, Minghua Garden's performances in Europe, and Jiaozi Tao’s international collections all add to the global visibility of Taiwanese culture.
What matters is that this internationalization is not aimed at catering to foreign "Eastern imaginings," but at sharing the creative energy of the Taiwanese people. When French audiences stand up to applaud Sanxi, they are appreciating not a "foreign flavor," but the infectious power of the art itself.
Future Imagination: Tradition Reborn in Innovation
The future of Taiwanese traditional art is not in museums, but in life; not in purity, but in creativity; not in preservation, but in rebirth.
A prime example is the "Museum Calendar" from the Taipei Palace Museum. It transforms ancient artworks into modern design elements and museum collections into lifestyle aesthetics, resulting in a creative miracle with millions of copies sold annually. This success is not because it "preserved" tradition, but because it "redefined" the meaning of tradition in modern life.
Imagine a possible future: In a VR theater, audiences perform on stage with papery puppets; AI music software uses Nan Guan ancient tunes as inspiration for contemporary musical compositions; in a 3D printing studio, young designers learn and modify Jiaozi Tao techniques; on social media, opera actors collaborate with YouTubers to create short films.
This is not the death of tradition; it is the rebirth of tradition. Every rebirth loses something, but it also gains something new. The key is ensuring that what is gained is more precious than what is lost.
The greatest asset of Taiwanese traditional art is its vitality. As long as this vitality persists, tradition will find a new form in every era. This is true for papery puppet theater, true for opera (Gezaixi), and true for all worthy arts.
References
- Pieli Multimedia International Co., Ltd. Annual Report
- National Cultural Heritage Website - Traditional Performing Arts
- Papery Puppet Theater Knowledge Network - National Center for Traditional Arts
- The Path of Jiaozi Tao Inheritance - PeoPo Citizen News
- Anping Sword Lion Cultural Preservation Association Official Website