NextFin — When the descendants of renowned 20th-century Chinese art collector Pang Laichen donated more than 100 priceless classical paintings to the state in the 1950s, they believed the works would be preserved for the nation.
More than half a century later, that donation has become the center of a bitter legal and reputational battle that is raising uncomfortable questions about how Chinese museums record, manage and publicly describe donated cultural property — and how disputes with donors are handled when politics, power and prestige collide.
Court rulings, archival records, family documents and interviews reviewed by the Paper show that the Pang family and the Nanjing Museum (“Nanbo”) have been locked in conflict for nearly five decades over ownership, record-keeping, public statements and missing or re-classified artworks — culminating in recent lawsuits over alleged defamation and historical misrepresentation.
The case, while unique in its detail, has shed light on how China's state-run cultural institutions interact with private donors — and what happens when trust breaks down.
A family donation becomes a state collection
Pang Laichen, also known by his studio name “Xuzhai,” was one of the most important collectors of classical Chinese paintings in the early 20th century. Before his death in 1949, Pang divided his collection among his descendants.
In 1959, his eldest grandson Pang Zenghe donated 137 artworks and sets of classical paintings — most dating from the Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties — to what later became the Nanjing Museum, according to donation receipts and handwritten inventories reviewed by Reuters.
At the time, China was rebuilding its state-owned museum system after decades of war. Officials from the Jiangsu provincial cultural authorities visited the family repeatedly, appealing for support for the new state collections.
“The country was poor, museums were empty, and the family believed donating art was a way to support the nation,” said Pang Shuling, Pang Laichen's great-granddaughter.
More than 80% of the donated works were later classified as “first-grade national cultural relics,” the highest category under Chinese law.
The museum issued letters of thanks, formal receipts and public commendations. In 1962, the provincial government awarded Pang Zenghe an official certificate recognizing his contribution.
The relationship deteriorated in 1963, when museum staff borrowed two additional paintings for a temporary exhibition: a Yuan-dynasty work by Wu Zhen and a Qing-dynasty album by Wu Li.
According to the family, the paintings were never returned.
When Pang Zenghe attempted to recover them in the late 1970s — after returning from years of forced rural labor during the 1966-1976 Cultural Revolution — he was repeatedly rebuffed, family members said.
In 1988, he sued the museum. The court ruled that the paintings had been “acquired” by the museum but that no payment had been made, ordering the museum to compensate Pang Zenghe roughly 26,000 yuan plus interest. The court did not recognize them as loans.
The ruling deeply angered the family, who said the museum had retroactively reclassified borrowed paintings as acquisitions and failed to produce donation or purchase documents for them.
Pang Zenghe died in 1995, still convinced the ruling was unjust, his family said.
The dispute resurfaced publicly after a major 2014 exhibition in Nanjing celebrating Pang Laichen's collection.
The exhibition catalogue and related media coverage described Pang's descendants as having “fallen into poverty” and “selling paintings for a living,” language the family said falsely portrayed charitable donations as forced sales due to poverty.
The catalogue essay was written by museum curator Pang Ou (no relation to the family). A media article quoted a woman introduced as a Pang family descendant and art researcher — claims later rejected by the court.
In 2015, Pang Shuling and her mother filed lawsuits against the museum, the curator, and the woman quoted in the media.
In 2016, a court ruled that the museum curator had fabricated and disseminated false information harming Pang Zenghe's reputation and ordered an apology. The court did not rule against the museum's former director.
The court also found that the woman presented as a family descendant failed to prove her claimed relationship to Pang Laichen.
The museum declined to comment publicly on the rulings and has not responded to repeated the Paper’s requests for comment.
Disputed numbers and missing records
At the heart of the dispute is a basic question: How many artworks did the family donate or sell — and what happened to them?
The family says that 137 works were donated in 1959, 11 works were later acquired by the museum for symbolic payments, and 2 works were borrowed and never returned, totaling 150 works.
Museum publications, however, have variously cited 115, 135 or 137 works.
The museum has never released a full public inventory linking each donated item to its current registration status, the family said.
One painting listed as donated in 1959 later appeared on the art market in the 1990s and was acquired by a private museum — raising further questions about collection tracking.
“How can something donated to the state reappear decades later in the market?” Pang Shuling asked. “Where was it in between?”
Systemic Loopholes
Experts say the case highlights systemic weaknesses.
“Many early donation records were handwritten, incomplete or lost during political upheaval,” said a Chinese museum governance expert who asked not to be named. “But that does not excuse institutions from transparency today.”
China's cultural relics law requires museums to maintain accurate records and prohibits deaccession of state-owned relics without approval.
Yet enforcement is uneven, and public oversight is limited.
“This case shows the power imbalance between institutions and individuals,” said a cultural heritage lawyer in Beijing. “When disputes arise, families often have little leverage.”
The Pang case comes amid a broader crackdown on corruption and mismanagement in China's cultural sector, including investigations into museum procurement, artifact authentication and collection transfers.
While no criminal charges have been brought in the Pang dispute, legal scholars say the case raises red flags about governance, transparency and accountability.
“It is not just a family grievance,” said one academic historian. “It's a question of how the state handles private cultural heritage entrusted to it.”
Today, Pang Shuling says she no longer seeks compensation — only transparency.
She wants the museum to publish a complete, itemized list of all Pang family donations, acquisitions and transfers, and to clarify publicly what happened to each artwork.
“My family gave these works to the country willingly,” she said. “But no one has the right to rewrite our history, erase our intentions or use our name without truth.”
The museum has not released such a list.
The curator has appealed the defamation ruling.
And the question of what ultimately happened to some of China's most valuable artworks remains unanswered.
