Sera Monastery

As we rode to the Sera Monastery, which is on the outskirts of Lhasa, Gyantzing told me that it housed five thousand monks before the Chinese invasion, and now it only has eight hundred monks. To me, that still seems like an awfully big number, but at the same time I don’t think it’s appropriate for the colonial government to limit the number of people who want a spiritual and communal life (or at least supposedly spiritual—not all monks are good, and because of the occupation, monks and nuns aren’t allowed to study as deeply as they should, and as they do in Dharamsala). Gyantzing explained that boys have to be at least sixteen years old to become monks now, and the Chinese authorities look at their background first, to make sure they have no relatives in India or relatives who are political protesters. I think that generally boys who become monks when they’re only five years old aren’t old enough to know whether that really is their calling, but on the other hand I’ve read that there’s so much for them to learn that they have to start at such a very early age. The part about the authorities checking potential monks’ backgrounds strikes me as much more oppressive and intrusive than the part about making them wait till they’re sixteen. Strangely, I didn’t think to ask how old girls had to be to become nuns, but I guess it didn’t occur to me because we were at an all-male monastery.

The Chinese destroyed the statue of Padmasambhava in front of Mount Kailash, huge statue, right after it was built. Power tripping much? They did the same with another statue—this is recent stuff if the Chinese government doesn’t approve of a public statue—like they’d approve of something Buddhist anyway!—then they tear it down. As I pointed out, it’s power-tripping politicians. But China’s not the only country that has power-tripping politicians—the USA has a blatantly power-tripping Whiteboyworld ungovernable government.

We were on the road to the monastery, when I spotted yaks for the first time, standing around amid small bare trees that I hesitate to call a forest. The narrow road was lined with merchants who had simple little booths. They didn’t look like they made a good living, with their dingy clothing and unkempt hair. The road leads directly to the monastery, where you buy tickets as though the monastery was an amusement park. That’s how the Chinese treat Buddhism in Tibet.

At the end of this road was the looming whitewashed monastery, such a different world from the Chinese streets of Lhasa. After we got out of the car and Gyantzing got the tickets, we walked up steps at a dramatic slant. I saw whitewashed buildings to my left and to my right.

The first place we visited was the printing press, a room that has traditionally been used as a printing press I’m thinking for centuries. The walls were lined with shelves and shelves full of carved wooden blocks. Some shelves contained modern books in Tibetan but I also saw stacks of the long, slender pages of Tibetan traditional scriptures, not only on shelves but also on the floor.

There were low glass cabinets forming a square in the center of the room, like in a shop. On top of the back glass cabinet were stacked black-printed banners on yellow fabric lying stacked on top of the glass cabinet. Gyantzing explained to me that these are pinned onto a door for good luck, and I decided to purchase a banner for me and another for my brother. The banners I purchased are quite different: the one with Manjushri at the top protects you from illness, and the one that I got for myself is a mandala. At some point while I wandered around this fascinating room, I noticed a couple of monks staring at me. They were doing it the same way as villagers visiting the Potala had stared at me, but it was disconcerting to be stared at by monks.

In more or less the center of the monastery is a shell of a building that was bombed after the Chinese invasion (supposedly during the Cultural Revolution, but in fact the Chinese started bombing Lhasa in 1959). One wall facing the entrance stood, still white stone blocks with black-framed windows, and it was disconcerting to see weeds growing out of the windows. Weirder still was looking through the windows and seeing the sky and the hill slanting upward, instead of seeing the interior of a building with brocade banners and gold Buddha statues. I walked around the corner, and there was very little of the opposite wall or side walls remained. It looked like an ancient ruin, and yet it had been intact before the late nineteen-fifties. It is a great shame that the Chinese won’t even admit that this sort of thing happened before the Cultural Revolution. Liars. Oh, yeah, we can’t let honesty get in the way of ideology.

We took a walk through the main part of Sera Monastery, with a functioning prayer hall and little rooms containing statues of Shakyamuni, Tsongkapa, and the like. After our visits to Ganden Monastery, the Potala, and the Jokhang Temple, the art and décor in Sera Monastery’s temples and shrine rooms seemed redundant, though nonetheless beautiful and stirring. There were a few other tourists, particularly a group of Germans. Most of the tourists in Tibet are Chinese, and this is only March, so the tourist season won’t actually begin for a couple months.

Large red double doors lead into a courtyard surrounded by a whitewashed stone wall. Inside the courtyard are some trees, and when Gyantzing and I entered it, the courtyard was also full of red-clad monks, most of whom looked between the ages of sixteen and forty. They were practicing the traditional Tibetan debating, which to an outsider looks quite comical. They split into twos, and one monk stands before the other and asks a question, stretching out his arms and slapping his palms together. The other answers, and as he finishes his answer, he stretches out his arms and slaps his palms together. This is often done with smiles and laughter. Sometimes one monk questions a group of four monks. After watching this for about half an hour, we wandered into another section of courtyard, where middle-aged monks debated in a much quieter and gentler manner, while sitting cross-legged on the ground. That wasn’t nearly as interesting to watch.

Between three and five in the afternoon, monks entertain tourists at Sera Monastery by practicing their traditional debating (Michael Palin calls it kung fu debating) in the monastery’s courtyard. Before I left on this trip, I read an online report presented by the International Campaign for Tibet; it was specifically for people who were about to be tourists in Tibet, and among other things it explained the monks at Sera Monastery still debate as they had in the past, but now it entertains tourists and the topics of their debates are much simpler than they were before the Chinese invasion. They aren’t allowed to study as much, and they are not allowed to study Tibetan Buddhism with the depth that previous generations studied and practiced. The gurus, the Rimpoches, are in exile and teaching practitioners outside of Tibet, not in it.

We walked slowly up a path that went up, up the mountain. The mountain itself was a light brown color and crumbly with rocks, some of which were quite large. Not much plant life grew high on the mountain; that’s a clue that we’re at a high elevation. Above, I gazed at bright and colorful pictures of bodhisattvas painted on rocks, some of which were very high up. I imagined robed painters climbing up to precarious locations just so they could paint Buddhas and bodhisattvas on mountain rocks.

In the distance is a yellow-painted stone temple that Gyantzing explained is in front of Tsongkapa’s favorite meditation cave. I remembered the small Tibetan temple in front of the Buddha’s austerities cave near Bodh Gaya, India. During Tsongkapa’s time, the meditation cave would have been a simple cave without any ornate temple in front of it.

We climbed up and got closer to huge painted rocks and to a tall skinny empty tower from which a huge thangka is hung on Losar. It was very narrow, with slightly slanting walls and the obligatory black-framed windows, but Gyantzing explained that inside the tower is empty; there’s a staircase but no furniture or artwork. Of course, the building’s sole purpose is to display the giant thangka.

In front of the tower was a plateau, and I stepped near the edge, amid the shrubbery, and standing at this lookout point, I gazed at the distant Potala. One of the enormous, flattish stones next to the tower was covered with several bright Green Taras. We turned to head back toward the lively monastery, and I noticed a woman sitting on the ground and wearing a brimmed hat and colorful striped shawl, and I thought she looked Peruvian.

I’m hearing a yowling tomcat out in the parking lot or some such place, somewhere outside my window. I think I heard him last night, too. He probably smells me and thinks I’m a female cat.

The Victoria and Albert Museum

Victoria and Albert Museum

Notes from Fashion: Dress in Detail from Around the World

Gold thread is a precious commodity and one of the few materials that dressmakers could not make themselves. Instead, they bought it from specialist producers. They then had to create intricate patterned effects without wasting a single fibre. They often did this by using the ‘couching’ technique, in which the valuable gold thread was secured with tiny coloured stitches, instead of being passed through to the underside. (This note with Eastern European velvet garments with gold trim, 19th century.)

The primary function of pleats and gathers is to control the volume and fullness of fabric, while at the same time producing a garment that is comfortable to wear. But pleating and gathering can also be decorative, or used to create different shapes and silhouettes.

1000 Patterns by Drusilla Cole (that's probably the book that the above quotes are from--I know I didn't write this stuff myself.)

The combination of contrasting fabrics in one garment is common to many cultures, though its purpose may vary. It may be used for a decorative effect, or to make a garment hardier or more comfortable. In some cases, it may be due to a shortage of fabric. In others, it is for religious or symbolic purposes, perhaps to protect the wearer from perceived evil forces or to emphasize a certain area of the body.


I lucked out—the Buddhist and Hindu art happened to be just outside of the Fashion exhibit. I particularly wanted to not only see the Fashion exhibit, but also Eastern art.

Tibet
Dakinis, whose name in Tibetan means ‘skywalker,’ are female deities of the air who initiated or instructed Tibetan yogis on the Buddhist spiritual path toward enlightenment.
[Luke, I am your fairy godmother.]

Vajradhara (a Bodhisattva) is the embodiment of ‘emptiness’ or ‘void,’ the ultimate Buddhist goal, symbolized by the Vajra held in his right hand. The bell (Ghanta), held in the left hand, symbolizes wisdom (Prajna), its sound penetrating the world.’

Indonesia/ Japan

Vasudhara—(means ‘holding the treasure’) the Buddhist Goddess of Abundance—holds vase of gems (Kamandolu), an allusion to the jewel of knowledge, a manuscript (Pustaka) of Buddhist teachings and a stem of grain, indicating both fertility and prosperity. (Four arms)
Earth Goddess
Her attribute: grain of rice. This goddess is associated with Sri Kasmi, with whom she shares a capacity to engage prosperity. The rice attribute of this earth goddess firmly stabilizes the central part agriculture played in the generation of wealth in ancient Java.

Sri Lanka
This country=mainly Hinayana Buddhism (original form)

Nepal
Hindu and Buddhist art
The cultural heart of Nepal is the Kathmandu Valley. This small but prosperous valley drew much of its wealth from the trade which flowed north to Tibetan and south to the plains of India. Its cultural tradition is intimately linked to those of eastern India, as reflected in the Gupta, post-Gupta and Pali styles (4th-12th centuries CE). The production of Nepalese art was largely confined to the Newars, an ethnic group with Tibetan linguistic links. Although mainly Vajrayana Buddhists, the Newars were responsible for the art of all communities, Hindu and Buddhist alike. A consequence of this concentration of art production in one community was a remarkable degree of religious syncretism not seen elsewhere in south Asia, in which motifs and images were appropriated freely to solve common religious ends.

Pakistan: Buddhist Art
Images of the Buddha are often, in Gandharan art, flanked by two attendant Bodhisattvas, Maitreya and Avalokisvara. Bodhisattvas also appear to begin to be worshipped as separate entities. They are distinguished from the Buddha by their princely attire.

India
The protector Mahakala, a violent and vengeful aspect of Siva absorbed by Buddhism as a guardian of the faith (Pharmapala)…Images such as this Mahakala became, in turn, the source for many of the fierce deities of Himalayan Buddhism, the elaborate pantheon of Tibetan Buddhism drawing heavily on the imagery of eastern India.

Nehru Gallery of Indian Art:

The fashion for costume made up from Indian printed cotton began in England, France and Holland in the 1660s. It was especially popular at that time for men’s morning-gowns, and Samuel Pepys records buying one for himself in 1661. By the end of the 17th century, chintz had become fashionable for ladies’ garments, as well, especially in Holland. The accession of William and Mary to the British throne in 1690 gave a boost to Dutch fashions in Britain, and soon all ladies of fashion were wearing chintz material that had previously been favored by their maids.
Even after the introduction of lawn in 1700 and 1720 to stop the massive import of chintzes and other Indian fabrics, they continued to be smuggled into Britain and made up into garments throughout the 18th century. Chintz was imported both in yardage in repeating floral patterns, and as pieces on which the pattern was designed to be made up into specific types of garments, such as dresses, petticoats, banyans (men’s robes), jackets and hat-brims.
Photo—Indian woman’s court costume 1830-40.

Mughal Costume
Men’s costume at the Mughal court was based on the Jama, a tailored gown tied at the side, and the Paijama, tapering trousers which were loose at the top and close-fitting at the lower leg (hey, you can get the pattern from Folkwear!). An elaborate turban (Pagri) was always worn at court, as well as a long decorative waist sash (Patka). Fine Kashmir wool shawls were often draped over the shoulder, sometimes in pairs: a fashion started by the Emperor Akbar.
Mughal women’s dress was also tailored, unlike the basic Hindu garment, the Sari, and also consisted of a long-sleeved gown over trousers. Fine muslin was the most favoured material, often embroidered with silk or gold thread.

Traditional Textiles
The main types of textile decoration in Western India are embroidery, tie-dying, and block-printing. Fine embroidery was, and still is, done by village women for their own families, hangings and covers in the house. The bold and abstract embroidery designs of the desert region often incorporate fragments of mirror-glass to add sparkle.
The dying is carried out by professional dyers in towns, although the tying of the cloth is often done by women and girls in villages. Simple spotted designs are used for women’s’ head-covers, but more complex patterns were also produced in Rajasthan and Gujarat. Zigzag patterns were also formed by folding the cloth before tie-dying are still used for turbans in Rajasthan. Block-printing is done commercially in several centres, and used on many types of costume, such as the full skirts which take the place of the sari in Rajasthan, or as a background for embroidery.

China
Dragon robes, 1700s and 1800s
A special shade of yellow was reserved for use on certain of the Emperors’ clothes. Other members of his household seem to have worn yellow as well. A group of 12 small motifs almost hidden among the patterning on some of the robes might mean that the garments belonged to an emperor. Female members of the imperial family, however, also used them on their gowns. Many more Imperial robes were made than were ever worn, and embroider lengths of robe silk were stored away. After the fall of the Empire in 1911, those lengths were made up into garments and sold. [So basically, we don’t know whether any of the dragon robes in the V&A were ever worn by an emperor.]
Round silver buttons that resemble knots—I have a cheap plastic version that I got on clearance at Joanne Fabrics—glad I got a bunch of them. Same color and size.

Books (I jotted down titles in the museum shop):

Georgian Country House: Architecture, Landscape and Society

Arts of Mughal India: Studies in Honor of Robert Skelton Gail Strongetopsfield

400 Years of Fashion

Followers of Fashion: Graphic Satires from the Georgian Period

European Fashion & Costume: 1490-1790 (Dover Publications)

Lace from the Victoria and Albert Museum

Chinese Silk: a Cultural History

The Corset: a Cultural History Valerie Steele

Buddhist Art and Architecture Robert E. Fisher

Indian Embroidery Rosemary Crill

World of Buddhism edited by Heinz Bechert & Richard Gornbrich

I was ready to leave the shop fifteen minutes before the scheduled time to meet there with my sister, so I darted over to the Chinese exhibit and to the Japanese exhibit. I saw an incredible collection of netsukes.


This evening the weather is, for the first time since we got here, stereotypical London weather: it’s been raining for a few hours, and I can hear a shhh shhh sound of the rain coming down. There’s even thunder and lightning now. I’m really impressed.

AT THE TUBE STATIONS
When you put your Travelcard through the machine that lets you pass through, the doors open with a slam, and they shut with a slam. When there’s a crowd, this makes for a lot of crashing, slamming noise, almost to the point that you don’t hear anything else. But you also hear disembodied, echoing voices telling you things like “Please have your cards ready,” and talking about any delays or keeping track of your possessions. And “Mind the Gap” is indeed important when you get to the platform. Sometimes the voice says, “Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.”


NOISE-- Sometimes there’s little point of trying to converse because of the noise in London. If we’re walking on the sidewalk, our voices are drowned out by the traffic (except at, say, one in the morning). If we’re walking along a subway tunnel, the many clopping feet and the disembodied and echoing voices drown our voices out. If we’re standing or sitting on an underground train, it is rattling away loudly, rattle, rattle, and rattle, not to mention shaking.

Standing on the platform and waiting for the subway train, we’ll hear it roaring before we can see it. I like to look at the entrance of the tunnel, and soon I see two lights, from the two glowing white/yellow lights at the front of the train—they’re like eyes. And the train approaches, with those glowing eyes, roaring away, moving swiftly like a dragon emerging from its cave. It gradually slows down, as many riders and many passengers go past, and when it stops, there’s a half second when it just sits there and you anxiously wait for the doors to open, then finally the doors open and you step on at the closest door, no matter how crowded the car is, no matter how many people are already standing in that particular car.

Sweating bodies are pressed against each other … that’s rush hour on a London Underground train.

I’ve noticed that my evil stepsister has this deadpan look on her face while riding the Tube trains, like she thinks she’s so sophisticated, even though in fact she has the emotional maturity of a two year old. If you’re going to be childlike, it should be the more pleasant aspect of being childlike. Apparently the concept of acting blissful and carefree while being a tourist in a foreign country hasn’t occurred to her. I tend to get euphoric like that—whether I’m lost or what, I want to enjoy the scenery and the ambiance and all, enjoy the moment, but when she’s having her temper tantrums or insulting me, this becomes impossible. Or I’ll get blissful, and she bites my head off, waking me up from bliss to resentment. This is, of course, in general, not just on the subway.

One day, my sister commented, “I love stepping out of a Tube station. You don’t know what you’ll see—you’re in a completely different place.” She said this after we stepped out of a Tube station and I saw a very gothic-looking building right in front of us and for a couple seconds thought it was Westminster Abbey, because that was why we went to that station, but then as I stepped through the big entrance and out from the Tube station, Big Ben hovered overhead, right there before me. It was very surreal. Indeed, you really don’t know what to expect, what fascinating architecture or what kind of neighborhood you’ll be in when you step out of a Tube station. You’ve come off a different planet, in effect.

Asian Art at the Nelson Atkins Museum

NOTES TAKEN AT THE NELSON-ATKINS MUSEUM OF ART (ASIAN COLLECTION)

Summer 2003

Jin Ping Mei—earliest Chinese novel, anonymous (risqué, too)

“May I, Song, enjoy a myriad years and the bushy eyebrows of old age.” --From an inscription inside a ritual vessel. Bronze c. 1100-771 BCE. I pictured the bushy eyebrows vividly.

A [17th century Chinese] Scholar’s Study
The architectural setting for a traditional Chinese scholar’s study gave expression to a life of refinement & leisure in which practice & enjoyment of all the arts were prized. A special environment was created for these activities [reminds me of my house]. Idyllic gardens, ranging from a few bamboos to an elaborately designed naturalistic space, surrounded the ideal rural or urban retreat. The imaginary occupant of this study [the one set up in the museum] could gaze out through 17th century wooden latticework & draw inspiration from every transformation of nature.
…. Here, an aficionado of life’s elegant pleasures could spend a quiet moment painting, practicing calligraphy or seal carving, playing the qin (zither), or perhaps appreciating & studying his collection of books and curios. In leisure hours he could share the appreciation of a fine art object with one or more friends, collaborate on a painting, host a literary gathering, or simply enjoy tea with a companion on the kang (couch). These activities not only poignantly contrasted with but also represented a retreat from the often troubled world of the late Ming period.

*

From “The Tibetan Room”—which is to say the breathtaking room full of Buddhist art, including Tibetan prayer wheels, but the first time I visited I didn’t know it was called the Tibetan Room.

BUDDHISM AND ITS PANTHEON
Buddhism was founded in India by Shakyamuni Buddha in the 6th to 5th centuries B.C.E. The earliest form of Buddhism, often called the Hinayana, emphasized the Buddha’s role as a teacher and the teachings themselves: renunciation of a worldly life, meditation, and practice of moral virtue. The goal of Buddhism was to escape from the ties that bind the individual to the universe. Most of the art from this period represented narratives from the histories or previous lives of the Buddha.

During the early centuries C.E., Buddhism was transformed into a deity who ruled over the universe. This movement, called the Mahayana, believes that there are many Buddhas (enlightened beings). Anyone can become a Buddha if he [she] attains sufficient knowledge. Beings are assisted on the path toward salvation by Buddhas-to-be called Bodhisattvas. Both Buddha’s and Bodhisattvas began to be represented in art.

In the third stage, Tantric Buddhism or the Bajrayana, the most prevalent type of Buddhism in Nepal & Tibet, the Pantheon increased manifold and became elaborately systemized. There is a supreme Buddha, called the Adi-Buddha, 5 transcendent directional Buddhas, and innumerable specialized Buddhas. There are Bodhisattvas & Goddesses, dharmapala (guardians of the teaching) & yi-dam (protective deities for individuals). Also encountered are images of honored historical figures, such as lamas (esteemed Tibetan monks), arhats (renowned disciples of the historical Buddha), and mahasiddhas (yogins imbued with magical powers).

Some Buddhist Goddesses:
(who can possibly be found on the Encyclopedia Mythica online database)
Vasudhara
Durga (Chinese & India/Hindu)
Green Tara (or Tara—various different colors—I’ve come across White also)
Mahabhairavi
Yama (god) & Yami (goddess)
Ushnishasitatapatra
Yaksh (nature spirit)
Parvati (Indian)
Ganga (Indian)

Green Tara
This particular sculpture: Probably 18th century/ Eastern Tibet/ Bell metal
Tara’s name can mean either “star” or “saviouress.” She is a compassionate Mother Goddess and also the partner of the Transcendent Buddhas or Bodhisattvas. She exists in many forms and colors. Here she sits in a relaxed posture on a lotus seat, her two hands performing the gestures of charity and teaching. An open and a closed lotus appear at her shoulders.

Vasudhara
This sculpture—14th century/Nepal
Vasudhara’s role as the Goddess of abundance is suggested by her attributes: a stock of grain in her middle left hand, an overflowing vase @ her lower left, a jeweled pendant, . . . in her middle right hand, and the gesture of offering gifts executed by the lower right hand. This Goddess was popular in Nepal.

Durga—Originated in Indian Hinduism as a Goddess created by the gods to fight certain demons. She became popular in Nepal as well. Here she rides upon her usual mount, a lion, brandishing a sword and shield. Her lower hands perform the charity and reassurance gestures.

A Mahasiddha
16th-17th century/ Central Tibet/ Silver with turquoise inlay
The Tibetans honor a group of 84 Mahasiddhas, who were originally historic persons. Each attained such a high level of knowledge of the Tantric texts & skill in practicing esoteric arts that he was able to fly and perform miracles. This figure sits on a lotus seat, performing gestures of discourse with both hands. He wears a crown of skulls and a lion’s skin about his loins. His fierce expression beneath furrowed brows suggests the intense concentration of his mental and spiritual powers.

Thangkas—the sacred pictures painted on fabric—
Arhat—highly accomplished monks who had originally lived in India.
Tsongkapa (1357-1419) was the founder of the Gelukpa or Yellow-cap Sect of Tibetan Buddhism, the sect which has been most powerful in recent centuries. He is believed to be an emanation of the Bodhisattva Manjushri, and therefore holds Manjushri’s attributes, a sword and a book, which appear on lotuses @ shoulder level. At Tsongkapa’s feet sit his 2 favorite pupils, the founders of some of the great monasteries of Tibet.

4 Mandalas
18th century/ Central Tibet/ Colors on cotton, brocaded silk mount
4 Mandalas float in a landscape of mountains and sky. At the center of each mandala is a female deity, who is surrounded by a number of attendants. A mandala is a guide to meditation. A meditator moves mentally through the various parts of the diagram, the outer circle, and gateways, the walls and inner circle, each of which represents some aspect of Buddhist doctrine. As he/she reaches the Goddess in the inner circle, his/her own consciousness has dissolved and he/she melds with the deity. When meditation is over, he/she moves back outward again, returning to the phenomenal world. Other deities are located in the clouds in the background.

Tsongkhapa
19th century/Tibet/ gilt bronze
Tsongkhapa (1357-1419) was a teacher and reformer who founded the Yellow Cap sect of Tibetan Buddhism, the most powerful sect in recent Tibet. He performs preaching gesture [one hand is touching the palm of the other].

Vajrapani
Late 18th-early 19th century/ Tibet/ gilt bronze with paint
Originated as a form of the Hindu king of the gods, Indra. In the earliest Buddhist art of India, he served as an attendant to the Buddha. In Tibet he became a major Bodhisattva. Here he is depicted as a fierce Dharmapala, a protector of Buddhist teaching. His fiery hair is decorated with skulls, and severed heads are suspended from his garland. He tramples on serpents and brandishes a vajra, the Buddhist symbol of the Absolute [it’s the little gold stick with curved pieces at the end forming almost a ball—Tibetan lamas use it while creating a sand mandala].

Ushnishasitapatra
19th century/ Central Tibet/ Colors on cotton
This benign goddess stands upon a lotus pedestal, crushing with her 1000 feet a multitude of humans and animals who represent all the bad states of existence. She has a thousand faces and a thousand arms, the latter arranged in an oval pattern behind her, each containing an eye. The many heads, eyes, and arms demonstrate her tremendous protective capacity. Her principle attributes are a white umbrella and a wheel. Buddhas and Goddesses appear in the clouds above her. Below 3 identical Mahakalas (protective deities) dance on prostrate figures.

Padmasambhava
18th century/ China, Tibet-Chinese thangka/ Colors on cotton
A mystic whom an 8th century king of Tibet invited to come from India to drive away the indigenous spirits and advance the cause of Buddhism. In this painting Padmasambhava has been depicted in his fierce role as an exorcist. He holds a vajra in his right hand before his chest, and in his left a skull filled with blood. He wears an individualistic red hat with turned-up lappets topped with a ½ vajra. His own special staff, toped with a skull & 2 human heads, leans against his left shoulder. The five fierce deities across the bottom of the painting represent the Tibetan guardian of the North, Pe Har, with 4 members of his retinue. Pe Har became the guardian deity for the Samye monastery in Central Tibet, which Padmasambhava founded.

[Main colors of Tibetan thangkas: red, green, orange, white, blue, off-white, black. Very bright colors! Maybe I’m subconsciously using Tibetan colors while painting the house.]

*

Buddhist Cave Chapels—something to look up (archeology)

Lotus Sutra—most popular Buddhist scripture

Chinese lion—Guardian of Buddhist faith, appropriate for flanking doorways. Not only used in temples and monasteries but also in family homes, in the front room. Eventually symbolized emperor, but still is symbol for protection and honor.
Whenever I saw what I thought was a Foo Dog, it turned out to be a lion or a chimera.

Tree of Life (South India)
The tree’s overall shape…is that of the sacred banyan tree, a symbol of male, spiritual, ethereal elements of life. The stem, with its rhizomes, is that of a lotus, representing the female, fertile, earthly, watery, aspects. The two combined betoken the whole of creation. The serpents, another symbol of fertility, and the central blossom, here used as a solar or spiritual symbol, also suggests the quality of high, combined, represents the unity of creation. Two pairs of confronting animals are frequently encountered flanking trees of life. The geese perched at the ends of the branches and eating of the fruit of the tree represent individual souls who partake of this life but have the freedom to escape from the cycles of life, which is the major goal of Indian religious thought.

MAIN FEATURES OF A BUDDHA IMAGE
(Also found on Goddess images, Bodhisattvas, etc)
Mandorla: almond-shaped halo surrounding the Buddha, indicating the divine light radiating from his body
Usnisa: Protuberance at the crown of the head, shaped like a royal turban [or bun] and symbolizing Buddha’s expanded wisdom.
Urna: jewel in the center of the forehead considered a third eye, and sometimes depicted as a small tuft of hair. Denotes the Buddha’s all-seeing nature.
Three rings of neck fat: remembrance of the moral Buddha’s status as a wealthy prince prior to his enlightenment.
Monastic robe: Buddhas wear simple, unadorned robes like monks.
Mudra: symbolic hand gestures identifying the particular Buddha represented and conveying a sacred message
Elongated ears: denotes the mortal Buddha’s status as a nobleman from ancient India whose ears were stretched by wearing heavy jewelry
Lotus petal throne: Buddhist deities sit upon thrones like those of secular rulers. The lotus plant symbolizes purity as its flower rises nobly from the mud of the earth.

Mudras: symbolic hand gestures of Buddhist deities.
Some common sacred hand gestures are mudras, found on Buddhist statues & paintings throughout the museum’s Asian galleries are illustrated below. Names are provided in Sanskrit. [I drew them in a sketchpad, but of course that’s not happening on this word document.]

Bhumisparsa--touching the earth gesture. The Buddha calls upon the earth gods to witness his triumph over evil demons.
[Left hand hanging down]

Dyana—gesture of concentration (2 variations). [Elbows bent, palms up in front of lap, one hand resting inside the other. Variation is with thumb and forefinger of each hand forming circle.]

Adhaya (right hand)—gesture of dispelling fear. [Elbow bent, hand held palm up with pinky sticking out to the side a bit.]
Vara (left hand)—gesture of benevolence. [Hand held with palm hanging upside down.]

Luohan (Sanskrit: Arhat), disciples of the Buddha Sakyamuni, are fully emancipated beings who concentrate on personal enlightenment and withdraw from the world. This figure is one of few known to have survived from a group found in the caves in the high cliffs of Yixian, Hebei Province. The Luohan is seated on a base of weathered rocks with his hands in Dyana Mudra, signifying a profound concentration & spiritual presence. The slightly over life-size sculpture displays a portrait-like quality . . . it is a masterpiece of Buddhist sculpture which follows late Tang style.
Tang Dynasty= 600’s-1100ish.

Seated Guanyin Bodhisattva
[This is the exact same Guanyin figure as the one illustrated in the book Heart of the Goddess! My mouth dropped open when I turned and there she was, towering over me a few inches away. Seated, she’s about 9 feet tall.]
Wood with Polychrome/Liao Dynasty, AD 907-1125/Shanxi or Hebei Province
Bodhisattvas are deities who, unlike Buddhas, forgo Nirvana until that time when all sentient being shall have attained enlightenment. Of these, Guanyin became the most popular as the deity of mercy & compassion, answering prayers & protecting the faithful from catastrophe. The fabled home of Guanyin is an island in the Southern Sea called Potalaka [sounds like the Potala is named after it]. The deity sits in the position of “Royal Ease” on a mossy rockery representing Potalaka. Originally the rockery probably continued up & around the image creating a grotto by the sea.

This image epitomizes the best qualities of a tradition in which a new kind of humanism imbues the image with a gentle and benign calm. The high deities are more approachable & immediate in emotional appeal than were the more austere, but more religiously profound images of an earlier time. The artistic manner is ornate. The paint & gessoed designs date from the 16th century.

The rock that her foot rests on has lotus design in red, and the rocks are generally green. Green, red, and gold costume. Gold dragon designs on Guanyin’s skirt, at the knees.

Note by the wooden Bodhisattvas—
Buddhist sculpture, largely in wood & clay, of the 12th & 13th centuries marks the last important phase of religious sculpture in China. The images are gentle, humanized and immediately appealing. The figures are full-bodied but not clumsily heavy, and their garments flow easily & naturally, eddying about the figure with numerous twisting scarves suggestive of stately movement. The carving is deep, producing a rich effect of black shadow and high-light playing movement. The style is typical of the Fen River Valley are in Sun Shaxi Province.

Chinese Tomb Figures
It is an ancient and wide spread belief that a carved or modeled image of a person, animal, or object captures the spirit of what is represented and can substitute for the real thing in the spirit world of the dead . . . All such pieces [tomb figures] were intended to be buried with the dead and have been recovered from tombs.
Saucy camels, fat Mongolian ponies, crazy gnome figure, people like musicians and women bearing offerings (cups). Doll house-like sculpture of a 5-story home (it’s about the same scale as a standard doll house). If I’m not cremated or taken to Tibet to be cut up and fed to vultures, I’d like to be buried with clay sculptures of saucy camels and fat Mongolian ponies.