From the outside, Corey Chan’s San Francisco home appears like many others in the Anza Vista neighborhood – a modest two-story structure with large windows framing panoramic city and bay views. But step inside his two-car garage, and you’re instantly transported to a vibrant, fantastical realm. Here, a dazzling array of Chinese lion heads, in every imaginable color, size, and style, adorn the walls and ceiling. Where a car should be, a magnificent five-foot dragon head with bared fangs presides. Pompoms shimmer, faux peaches glow, and an assortment of spears, swords, and axes lie alongside everyday items like drying laundry, all hinting at a rich cultural tradition.
Corey Chan, now 63, was captivated by Chinese lion dances from a young age, especially during Lunar New Year celebrations. He dedicated himself to mastering every aspect of this intricate art form, from the detailed construction and delicate repair of the lion costumes to the precise execution of each dance movement. Beyond the new year, these spirited performances frequently mark significant occasions like weddings, business grand openings, and solemn funerals for respected elders and martial arts masters.
“I was hungry to learn,” Chan shares, describing a tradition rich with a thousand years of history and myth. He emphasizes that it’s a ‘never-ending learning journey.’ Despite his vast expertise, Chan remains approachable and modest, viewing himself as a perpetual student. Yet, he is also a highly esteemed and insightful teacher. He serves as the heritage director at Cameron House, a historic San Francisco Chinatown nonprofit dedicated to supporting low-income and immigrant Asian American communities. Additionally, he directs Kei Lun Martial Arts, an organization he joined at 18. It was through this martial arts practice that he assembled his dedicated team: Jeff Lee, Travis Lum, and Thomas Chun. Lee, 61, marvels at Chan’s ability: “What do you call it if you have a photographic memory but with your body? The master shows it one or two times and then, boom, Corey’s got it.” Recognizing the scarcity of English resources on lion dancing, Chan spearheaded a pivotal research trip to China in 2000 with fellow Kei Lun Martial Arts members. There, they immersed themselves in the techniques of master craftspeople in Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Hong Kong. Lee reflects on this experience as ‘a labor of love, but also an appreciation of their family art, their tradition.’ During this intensive study, they mastered the intricate five-step process of crafting lion heads: constructing a sturdy bamboo skeleton, applying layers of papier-mâché for the skin, meticulously painting the features, adorning them with symbolic decorations, and finally, consecrating the lion to bring it to life through a special ceremony.
To begin crafting a lion frame, Chan and his team meticulously cut bamboo into slender strips. These strips are then carefully heated with a candle or hot air gun to achieve the perfect pliability. Once bent into shape, they are secured with approximately a thousand precise knots of paper tape. This initial stage of constructing the bamboo skeleton is often considered the most challenging. Watch a video of the process below.
On top of the bamboo frame, they paste multiple layers of papier-mâché.
“If you use one layer, it’s going to tear so you have to use like three or four layers,” Lum explained.
Lum likes to use thick paper bags on the lion’s interior, especially along its spine and jaw, which endure the most strain.
While tradition dictates burning unused lions as a symbolic return to heaven, Chan and his friends have never adhered to this practice. Instead, they playfully call themselves the ‘Lion Rescue Squad.’ ‘We’ve never had to burn a lion because we know how to fix them,’ Chan proudly states. Through their venture, Of Course Lion Source – which Chan humorously describes as ‘a hobby that kind of went out of control’ – they receive Chinese lions and dragons from all corners of the country for restoration. They even rescued a severely damaged lion discovered abandoned in an Oakland park. (Both lions and dragons are revered for bringing good fortune and warding off evil spirits, with dragons being larger and requiring more performers.) Chan emphasizes the profound dedication involved: ‘Anybody that makes these things, prepares these things, they’re putting not just their time, they’re putting in their soul. A little bit of me goes into this.’ A notable achievement in 2014 saw the squad commissioned by the New York Historical Society and the Marysville Chinese Community in California to restore Moo Lung, a colossal, nearly 150-year-old dragon believed to be the oldest in the United States.
Moo Lung’s creation during a period of intense anti-Chinese violence and discrimination, including the infamous 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, underscored its significance as a powerful symbol. It celebrated China’s ancient and rich civilization, traveling from California’s Bok Kai Temple to international stages like the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair and New York City’s 1911 Fourth of July parade. Despite its cultural importance, this intricate art form struggles to be profitable today. When discussing their business, the team shares a knowing laugh. Commissions, which typically range from $300 to $2,000 depending on the lion’s condition and specific client requests, barely cover labor and material costs. More often than not, the squad personally invests their own time and money into their passion. ‘You don’t do this kind of thing to make a lot of money real fast,’ Chan asserts. ‘It’s art.’
Lions, not indigenous to China, are believed to have arrived at the Chinese Imperial Court via the Silk Road during the Han dynasty. Over subsequent centuries, they evolved into powerful mythological symbols, regarded as protectors and bringers of peace. The three most common lion colors are linked to characters from the classic Chinese historical novel, “Romance of the Three Kingdoms”: yellow representing Liu Bei, red for Guan Gong, and black for Zhang Fei. Lee elaborates, ‘The Liu Bei lion often has a white beard because he’s older, more knowledgeable, civil, and he’s danced with a more regal type of nature.’ In contrast, ‘The Guan Gong lion is a General. He’s strong, he is in his prime, he has a black beard.’ The black Zhang Fei lion, symbolizing the youngest and most combative character, is a rare sight. Chan notes, ‘Traditionally, you don’t even bring out a black lion unless you’re going to fight.’
Lee and Chan recall a time when rivalries between martial arts and lion dance troupes often escalated into clashes. ‘That’s why a lot of parents wouldn’t let their kids join,’ Chan explains, with Lee confirming his own parents forbade his participation. ‘The guys who did lion dance at the time had to be really good at martial arts.’ Watch another video highlighting decorative elements.
Once the lion’s colors and corresponding personalities are established, the team meticulously paints intricate decorative motifs. Movable ears, eyelids, and jaws are then carefully integrated. A fascinating detail: convex mirrors are placed on the lion’s forehead, believed to ward off evil spirits and attract positive energy.
A crucial step before a Chinese lion can perform its inaugural dance is the eye-dotting ritual, a consecration ceremony that awakens the lion to life. The Rescue Squad performs this by using a calligraphy brush dipped in muddy red cinnabar to symbolically activate the lion’s sensory organs.
They carefully dot the nose for smell, the tongue for taste, the ears for hearing, and then place one dot on its horn and seven more along its body, representing the celestial Big Dipper constellation.
With its senses awakened, the lion is almost ready to fulfill its public role: warding off malevolent spirits and performing impressive feats like leaping to retrieve red envelopes tied to lettuce heads, symbolizing prosperity and good fortune. It is also prepared to tackle the traditional ‘Cheng’ puzzles – intricate physical and mental challenges that experienced business owners arrange outside their establishments. This challenging art form is slowly fading, and Chan is dedicated to documenting and compiling these puzzles into a book. The lion’s awakening culminates with a final, powerful blessing. As Lee recounts the liturgy, the final words resonate: ‘Now we bring this lion to life, now may he raise his martial valor and bring peace to the world.’
This story is part of a series on how Asian Americans are shaping American popular culture. The series is funded through a grant from The Asian American Foundation. Funders have no control over the selection and focus of stories or the editing process and do not review stories before publication. The Times retains full editorial control of this series.