When it debuted on the world market more than 400 years ago, this remarkable porcelain found an eager audience. The organic shapes and creamy, vitreous textures inspired a lasting demand, first with Chinese scholars, monks, and rich merchants, then with European aristocrats, and eventually among well-heeled Westerners. Familiar to the English as "white wares" and to the French as blanc de chine (literally, "white of China"), these singular fired crafts were recognized as bai ci ("white porcelain") or "Dehua ware" in their country of origin.

Dehua, a county of rolling hills and rivers in southeast China's Fujian Province, emerged as a regional ceramics hub long before its global legacy took root. "The Dehua kilns date to the Song dynasty (960-1279). But production of the porcelain now known as blanc de chine began in the 16th century and peaked in the 17th and 18th centuries," says Donald Wood, chief curator and curator of Asian art for the Birmingham Museum of Art.

At that time, making porcelain was an intensive endeavor of manual collaboration and specialization. A great number of kilns were established in provincial villages, where natural resources and skilled hands proved plentiful. "It became a big industry and required a definite division of labor. Artists were paid by the piece, and each kiln could hold thousands of pieces. There were sculptors, experts in glazing, firing masters, overseers, and so on," says Wood. "They were making things that they found marketable. Porcelain was a luxury item."

Thus, the muses of art and commerce struck an alliance at Dehua -- with ample assistance from the fortunes of geology and geography. In Blanc de Chine: The Great Porcelain of Dehua, author Robert H. Blumenfield observes, "the whiteness of blanc de chine is due to the relative absence of iron in the local clay." Known as pai tz'u ("white clay") or kaolin ("high ridge" clay), deposits of this substance appeared chockablock in Dehua's landscape. The mineral feldspar, the porcelain's second key ingredient, is also present in the area in prodigious quantities.

The clay, once harvested and painstakingly washed, was combined with powdered feldspar and pressed, wheel-turned, or molded. Kiln-ready pieces were fired at extreme temperatures (at least 1,450 degrees Celsius), bonding and transforming the clay and feldspar into a substance reminiscent of ivory. Distinctive glazes made of feldspar, lime, and potash enhanced the porcelain's natural white hue. The finished stock was exceptional -- dense and strong with a translucent shimmer.

Incidental or intentional variations in clay, glazes, and methods yielded a surprisingly broad palette. "We see a range of colors in blanc de chine, from a brilliant snow white to yellow and pink tints to an almost gray tone," says Wood. Different-colored glazes were occasionally used, and legitimate specimens exist in hues of purple, blue, brown, or green.

Although not impossibly rare, high-quality pieces remain something of an enigma. Wood encourages collectors to work with a ceramics expert or reputable dealer to investigate authenticity. "Verifiable age, good condition, and distinguishing seals or marks are always preferred," he says.