Two faces of Leung Jan

Supposed photo of Leung Jan

The Two Faces of Leung Jan: Do We Really Know What the Wing Chun Master Looked Like?

Leung Jan (梁贊) occupies one of the most important positions in the history and tradition of Wing Chun.

Almost every major branch of modern Wing Chun connects itself, directly or indirectly, with him. He is remembered as a physician, martial artist and teacher whose students included figures such as Chan Wah Shun.

Over time, however, historical Leung Jan became increasingly difficult to separate from legendary Leung Jan.

Stories describe his fights, his medical practice, his character and his extraordinary martial ability. Some may preserve genuine memories. Others belong to the enormous body of folklore that accumulated around famous Chinese martial artists.

This article is not an attempt to settle all those questions.

It concerns something much simpler:

Do we actually know what Leung Jan looked like?

Today, two very different images circulate as representations of him.

One is a photograph.

The other is a painted portrait.

Both have been presented as Leung Jan.

But when we ask where these images came from, the story becomes considerably more complicated.


The First Face: The Supposed Photograph of Leung Jan

Today the photograph is reproduced on websites, lineage charts and social-media pages so frequently that it can easily appear to be an established historical photograph.

But repetition is not authentication.

One widely accessible copy on Wikimedia Commons identifies the man as Leung Jan and dates the photograph to 1890. Yet the same record lists both the original source and photographer as unknown.

The history of the image's circulation is therefore more interesting than its modern caption.

I first encountered this photograph many years ago through Chinese media. Fortunately, I preserved an early screenshot.

That screenshot gives us something that most modern reproductions do not.

“The Only Photograph of Leung Jan”

The Chinese television screenshot carries the words:

梁贊唯一的照片

“The only photograph of Leung Jan.”

Another caption identifies Leung Jan as Yip Man's sigung (師公), essentially his martial grandfather: Leung Jan taught Chan Wah Shun, who subsequently taught Yip Man.

The surviving screenshot also contains the visible date:

DEC 21 2008

We should be careful about what this establishes. Without recovering the original broadcast, I cannot prove that December 21, 2008 was the actual broadcast date rather than a recording timestamp.

What it does establish is that I possessed this version of the image in this form from that early period, long before many of its later reproductions appeared.

More importantly, the television version preserves something that later versions often remove.

The supposed photograph is visibly contained inside a larger oval memorial-style setting.

And that creates a problem.


Where Is the Rest of the Object?

If this photograph came from a grave, tombstone or other memorial object, the most important historical evidence would not necessarily be the face.

It would be the inscription surrounding it.

A complete photograph of the monument could potentially provide a name, dates, family information, titles or other details capable of establishing whose memorial it actually was.

Instead, what eventually circulated internationally was primarily the face.

The contextual evidence capable of authenticating it disappeared.

That raises an obvious question:

Why was the complete object not photographed and published?

I want to be very precise here.

The surviving screenshot does not allow me to prove that the object is a gravestone. Its appearance strongly suggests a memorial context, but until the complete object is located, it should be described as a memorial-style setting, rather than categorically as Leung Jan's grave.

Nor would finding the photograph on a grave automatically prove that the photograph itself was authentic.

Graves can be reconstructed. Memorials can be renovated. Photographs can be added decades after a person's death.

Consequently, even if the object could be demonstrated to be Leung Jan's grave, we would still need to establish when the portrait was placed there and where the photograph itself originated.


The Age of the Memorial Is Another Question

There is another issue that deserves investigation.

Leung Jan lived during the nineteenth century and is generally said to have died around the beginning of the twentieth century. Modern sources themselves are not completely consistent about his dates, which is another reason for caution when dealing with details of his biography.

If this was an original photographic grave portrait from around the time of his death, we should ask:

How common was this particular type of photographic memorial in Guangdong at that time?

I have not found sufficient evidence to answer that question confidently.

Therefore I will not claim, as I did more strongly in the past, that such a grave photograph would have been impossible or necessarily anachronistic.

It is nevertheless a legitimate historical question.

Chan Wah Shun, who belonged to the following generation and died not long afterward, provides an interesting comparison. His grave is known and substantial, yet it does not provide us with an equivalent photographic identification of the deceased.

That comparison does not disprove the Leung Jan photograph. Different families followed different practices.

It simply gives us another reason to ask when and under what circumstances the supposed Leung Jan memorial was created.


Where Did the Photograph Come From?

During this investigation I encountered several different stories concerning the photograph's provenance.

One later Wing Chun source associates the photograph with Samuel Kwok and claims that a photograph was supplied by Leung Man Lok, described there as Leung Bik's grandson. The same source, however, also states that the Leung Jan photograph had previously appeared on Chinese television through Chris Chan (Chan Kam Shing).

These are claims about provenance, not provenance itself.

I have not been able to reconstruct a documented chain from the original physical photograph or memorial object to Leung Jan.

The essential questions therefore remain:

Who originally photographed the object?

Where was it located?

What did the complete object look like?

What did its inscription say?

And what evidence established that the man was Leung Jan?

Until those questions can be answered, I believe the historically responsible description is:

A photograph attributed to Leung Jan, circulating publicly by 2008, whose original provenance has not been established.

The Second Face: The Painting

Years later, another face of Leung Jan appeared.

This time it was not a photograph.

It was a painted portrait.

Unlike the photograph, however, the painting has a more specific discovery story.

In October 2015, a Snake Crane Wing Chun delegation met Tang Kwong Man, described in the contemporary account as a retired chief expert of the Foshan Wushu History Research Centre.

That account states that Tang had discovered “the only known portrait of Leung Jan” in Leung Jan's old house.

A later account by Wayne Yung again identifies Tang as the Foshan government Wushu expert and repeats the claim that he discovered a picture of Leung Jan in Leung Jan's old residence.

This gives the painting something the photograph largely lacks:

a named discoverer and a claimed place of discovery.

That is important evidence concerning the history of the object.

But it is not yet authentication of the person depicted.


Finding a Portrait Is Not the Same as Identifying Its Subject

Suppose for the moment that the discovery account is completely accurate.

A painting was found in Leung Jan's former residence.

That would certainly make the painting historically interesting.

But another question immediately follows:

How was the person in the painting identified as Leung Jan?

Finding a portrait in a historical building does not automatically identify its subject.

Was Leung Jan's name written on it?

Was there an inscription?

Was there a date?

Was the artist known?

Was there documentation connecting the portrait with the Leung family?

Did descendants identify it?

Was its age examined?

Was the painting catalogued or examined by museum specialists?

Where is the original painting today?

These questions are not accusations.

They are the normal questions of provenance.


The Late Discovery Also Deserves an Explanation

The claimed location makes another question unavoidable.

Leung Jan's former residence was not an unknown building suddenly discovered in 2015. It had already attracted the attention of Wing Chun practitioners and researchers.

If an important historical portrait was subsequently discovered there, we need to know where and how it was found.

Perhaps it had been stored away.

Perhaps it had previously been overlooked.

Perhaps it was held by family members.

Perhaps it was returned to the building later.

There are numerous innocent explanations.

Therefore the late discovery itself is not evidence of fraud.

In the original version of this article, I went further. I treated the circumstances surrounding the discovery as evidence that the painting had been fabricated.

I would no longer make that conclusion without better evidence.

The correct historical response is simpler:

Document the discovery.

If the portrait is authentic, documenting where it was found, its physical history and how its subject was identified would considerably strengthen the case.


The Clothing Creates Another Question

There is another feature of the portrait that deserves closer examination: the clothing worn by the man depicted.

The figure does not appear to be represented simply as an ordinary nineteenth-century physician or merchant.

The clothing and overall presentation appear to resemble visual conventions associated with Qing-period official portraiture.

I have discussed the portrait with a number of people from Hong Kong and Guangzhou familiar with traditional Chinese culture, and several independently raised this same issue.

Their opinions are not historical proof.

But they identify a question that can potentially be tested independently of Wing Chun tradition:

What exactly is the man in the painting wearing?

Qing official clothing was regulated and could communicate bureaucratic rank and social position through specific garments, insignia and accessories.

If the portrait can be demonstrated to depict its subject in identifiable official dress, another question follows:

What evidence exists that Leung Jan held the government position or social rank represented by that clothing?

Some modern Wing Chun biographies do claim that Leung Jan became a government official, but such statements themselves require historical documentation rather than repetition between lineage websites.

Other accounts describe him primarily as a physician and proprietor of a herbal medicine business in Foshan.

At present, therefore, I do not think we should use the clothing to declare the painting false.

But neither should we ignore it.

The clothing may eventually provide one of the best independent methods of testing the attribution.

A historian of Qing costume does not need to know anything about Wing Chun to identify the status represented by a garment.

That makes this potentially much stronger evidence than whether modern Wing Chun practitioners think the face “looks right.”


Two Faces, One Man?

We are therefore left with two very different supposed representations of Leung Jan.

One is a photograph circulating publicly by at least 2008.

The other is a painted portrait reported as having been discovered in Leung Jan's former residence and publicly discussed by 2015.

The faces appear substantially different.

But even that should not be our main argument.

People can look surprisingly different at different ages. Paintings are not photographs. Artists idealize subjects. Photographs can deteriorate. Digital copies can be altered.

Trying to decide authenticity by comparing noses, ears or jawlines is therefore unlikely to solve the problem.

The much stronger question is:

What independent evidence connects either image to Leung Jan?


How the Internet Creates Historical “Facts”

This case also demonstrates something important about martial-arts history.

An image appears.

Someone identifies the person.

Another website copies it.

A lineage chart uses it.

A Facebook page reposts it.

A book reproduces it.

Eventually hundreds of websites show the same face.

After enough repetition, nobody asks where it came from anymore.

The image has become a “historical photograph.”

But fifty websites repeating an attribution do not constitute fifty independent sources.

They may all ultimately derive from one unidentified source.

Repetition is not authentication.

This problem is particularly serious in Chinese martial-arts history, where oral tradition, family histories, popular literature, commercial promotion and genuine historical information have circulated together for generations.


What Would Actually Authenticate These Images?

For the photograph, I would like to see the earliest complete image showing the entire object from which the portrait was taken, together with any inscription. Ideally we would also know its location, when it was photographed and how the man was originally identified.

For the painting, we need documentation of its discovery, physical examination of the original, any inscriptions or seals, its approximate date, and the evidence used to identify the subject.

The clothing should also be examined independently by someone qualified in Qing-period dress and portraiture.

None of this is unreasonable.

These are precisely the questions we should ask about any newly discovered historical image.


Historical Skepticism Is Not Disrespect

Questioning these images does not diminish Leung Jan's importance.

His position in the transmission of Wing Chun does not depend upon whether we possess a photograph of his face.

Nor does respecting Wing Chun require accepting every object subsequently associated with famous figures in its history.

In fact, preservation requires the opposite.

If an image is authentic, careful investigation strengthens its historical value.

If its authenticity cannot presently be established, saying so protects the historical record from becoming confused with tradition.

And if new evidence eventually demonstrates that one of these images really is Leung Jan, I will be perfectly happy to correct this article.

That is how historical research is supposed to work.

In the original version of this article, I described these images much more confidently as fraudulent. I no longer think the available evidence justifies that conclusion.

There are legitimate reasons to question both attributions.

But suspicion is not proof.

At present, the most accurate conclusion I can reach is much simpler:

We do not know with confidence what Leung Jan looked like.

And there is nothing wrong with saying that.

“We don't know” is not a failure of historical research.

Sometimes it is the most historically honest answer available.

Leung Jan does not need an invented face to remain one of the central figures in Wing Chun history.




Supposed portrait of Leung Jan