When one concentrates on seeing each object, they start to speak. They recount imaginary stories and transport us back to hidden places thousands of kilometers away and back in time: noises of markets; pungent smells; sounds of clattering bowls; tea being poured; floors being broomed; radishes being grated; herbalists concocting exotic potions from animal parts; screaming children at play with masks; neighborhood murmurs . . . In some lost place in deep China, some time ago, women and men in rural areas were making objects of remarkable beauty and art simply for the purpose of survival and function.

These utilitarian artifacts also speak of a culture of one man, who was touched by and had the eyes to see the grace and all that is extraordinary in the ordinary elements of daily life. Somehow, even with this posh version of trade we call "auctions", these pieces all come together to tell us a greater story that transcends the idea of ownership and privilege that is synonymous with being a "collectionneur". They are the tangible and living storytellers that provide a window into a particular tradition and lifestyle of an entire civilization. They are also the celebration of the mundane and all that might have gone unnoticed were it not for François' curious mind and talent for enchantment: "I came from afar and I was interested in the same things that only they (the rural people) were interested in: the objects of their daily life." Though François left this earthly life in 2002, these 7,500 odd pieces remain to bear witness to his love and passion for the vernacular, which he feared would disappear forever. They carry the soul of a pioneer and a traveler who explored the remote areas of China from Henan to Mongola and all the way to the edge of Takla Makan, the great desert of Central Asia, as early as the 1960s.

Having spent half of his time in remote areas reveals something about his personal regard and his affinity for everyday objects. Art that comes from a place of necessity possesses something of rare poetry and surprising invention, and innovation comes from the clever use of what is readily available in the surroundings. Ingenuity is born from constraint—whether that be means or seasons.

In François' treasure box are tools, utensils and everyday objects made of ceramic, metal, as well as a myriad of things such as bamboo hats, birdcages, boxes and baskets. One also tastes the rich array of materials and textures: straw, red and black lacquer, ceramics, bronze, silk, colored stones, etc. It is also a cornucopia of toys, shadow puppets, jewelry, statuettes, antique books, ceramics, packaging, and undecipherable curios. A series of bowls from the Song dynasty and 18th to 19th century porcelain pieces. A bust of Mao. A stunning array of cheongsam. The painterly Ge Ba tableaux of collaged textiles made by women used as inner linings for shoes. Brushes and brushes and brushes. Tiger and dragon head caps. Amulets. A cabinet of traditional medicine full of giant centipedes, snakes, geckos, dried mushrooms, beef bile, roots, silkworm cocoons, coral roots, and unidentifiable things.

His interests were not bound to a specific social class. He wanted to know everything—from the life and labor of farmers and female workers to the life of mandarins, from the crafts and techniques of rural people to the traditions of the gentry. And he recognized the virtuosity of a civilization whose every mundane object embodied artistry and perfection. Growing despondent by the possibility that this splendid heritage might eventually vanish, he photodocumented and collected as many expressions of this culture with encyclopedic rigor.

The Chinese affectionately called him Lao Du, or "Mr. Du" in which "Du" was an abbreviation of "Dautresme." And they considered him one of their own despite the language barrier. Perhaps appreciation inspires appreciation. It is evident from past documents on Mr. Du that he must have been a soul who was deeply moved by the beauty of nature, who perceived poetry in minute details, and who had deep regard for the creativity and harmony of people he encountered in the rural areas. Somehow his heart must have been connected to the heart of China itself. And these objects—his "children" that he adopted over the decades—tell of the everyday creativity of the Chinese people. And through them, one is able to imagine and reconstruct the lifestyle and traditions of an entire civilization during a certain point in its history.