(This is chapter 4 of the Nicholas Roerich's book
Shambhala.)
TIBETAN
ART
The
red door, aglow with the gold of ornament, slowly opens. In the twilight of
Dukhang, the gigantic image of Maitreya majestically rises into the height.
Through the velvety patina of time, one begins to discern upon the walls the
delicate silhouettes of images—a whole series of stern Bodhisattvas, guardians
and keepers… Powerfully they stand, outlined by a firm hand. Time has enriched
the colors and mellowed the sparks of gold. They transmit an unforgettable
impression of exalting joy!
The
entrance is blue-white, like old Chinese porcelain. There is a tiny door and a
high threshold. Like old banners of the great spiritual battles, rows of Tankas
hang from the carved balustrade. Numerous paintings glow with a multi-form
variety of themes. Golden and purple riders gallop against a black background. The
golden filaments of clouds and edifices are interwoven into a scroll of
inexhaustible imagination. Upon them are depicted hermits taming the elements.
Teachers are ascending the perilous paths. The dark forces are humbled. Hosts
of the righteous as well as sinners are thronging around the thrones of the
Blessed Ones. On white hatiks—ceremonial scarfs—travelers cross the abysses of
life. And the Blessed Tathagata, in the circle of chosen Arhats, sends His
Blessings to the approaching ones who are un-fearful of the Great Way. We shall
not forget this shrine of precious banners. It shall always fill us with a
strength as for battle.
There
is another carved entrance. Above the broad steps, in full power, stand the
Dharmaraja—the Rulers of all lands. They guard the gates to the great Mother of
All Being. The multiple-eyed, omniscient Dukhar, surrounded by resplendent
Taras—these are the self-sacrificing guardians of mankind. The gold surface has
not yet been completely subdued by the noble covering of time. But dampness
already weaves its pattern on the walls. High above the Taras is the Mandala of
Shambhala. The indefatigable ruler Rigden-jyepo keeps vigilance on the tower,
in the sacred circle of the snowy mountains. The warriors are gathered
together. We shall not forget this great symbol.
Now
we are on remote mountain passes. The snows are already nearby. On this pathway
of antiquity appears a gigantic image of Maitreya carved on a rock, bestowing
blessings upon the travelers. Not by an average hand was the surface of the
rock transformed into this mighty, monumental image. The fire of achievement, a
strength of touch, and an indefatigability of labor summoned human forces to
the creation of this image upon the now-deserted path. Verily, this is great
and significant in thought and in expression, and impelling in masterly
craftsmanship. A great art!
The
black and gold banners are of Chinese origin. The character of the design and
composition is apparently reminiscent of China. Dukhar and Taras—they are the
Mother Kali of Great India and the Blessed Kwan Yin of hoary China; they have
come from afar to this Tibetan Dukhang. Maitreya recalls the Bodhigaya of
India. The Image of the Blessed One directs your thought to Sarnath; the Hindu
origin of the image is even pointed out to you.
The mighty Maitreya on the rock
was carved by some hand in the Sixth or Seventh Centuries—one which knew of
great India. You recall the technique of the Trimurti of Elephanta. You are
transported to the sculptures of Mathura, to the frescoes of Ajanta, to the
fairy tale of Ellora, to the majestic ruins of Anuradhapura, to the picturesque
masses of Rangoon and Mandalay.
Everything
that we see in Tibetan temples inevitably evokes reminiscences of India and
China. The flow of the water-fall recalls its source!
Four
years of wanderings through all the Buddhist countries have permitted the
accumulation of many impressions. From the unforgettable fairy-tale of the cave
temples of Central Asia to the Ten Thousand Buddhas recently ordered by Buddhists
of Mongolia from Polish factories (as if the East had become depleted to such
an extent!); from the impoverished monastery comprising a transportable yurta
of the steppe, to the painting of Shambhala carried by the wandering lama—we
have seen all.
Of
course, everywhere we have been astonished by the distinction between the old
and modern images. The powerful conception of ancient temples, their grandeur
and proportions, their discriminately chosen sites and the lavishness of their
construction, speak to us of quite a different spiritual condition in their
creators. The meager proportions, indifferent choice of sites, instability of
construction and ornamentation make some of the new Tibetan temples
unconvincing. Those who lived as eagles upon the heroic rocks, have passed
away. The Tibetans themselves stress the advantages of the ancient work, and
the importance of the site in view of its antiquity. And this is not the mirage
of antiquity; it is simply reality, and an evident difference in the quality of
the creation.
Certainly,
time with its inimitable accumulations adorns all things. We know how ennobled
by time are the Primitives of Italy, Spain and the Netherlands. The Persian
merchants spread their carpets under the feet of the bazaar crowds in order to
obtain the precious patina. So we may attribute a great deal of the
attractiveness of old Tibet to the lure of time.
Besides,
it is entirely evident that the mastery of old artists of Tibet was finer and
keener. Their spiritual striving gave them an inspiration which passed beyond
the boundaries of the conventional mechanical canon.
Dalai
Lama the Fifth, called the Great, who was responsible for the Potala, the only
significant structure of Tibet, knew how to strengthen the nerve of spirit.
Several of the Tashi Lamas knew how to encourage talent.
It
is significant to note how everywhere the inner stimulus establishes the
quality of production. It lights or extinguishes the fire of creation, of all
the productions of a nation. The true history of a nation could be written by
the monuments of its creation and production. Now, after the departure of the
Tashi Lama, Tibet is somewhat lowered spiritually and in the expressions of its
art.
The
entire literature of the Buddhist teaching emanated from India and China. It is
pointed out that Tibetan translations from the Sanskrit are stereotyped because
of the paucity of expression in the Tibetan language and fail to express many
of the subtleties which evolved from the wisdom of India.
Of
course, in addition to India and China, Tibet has more ancient heritages. On
the rocks we found old drawings. Out of the vastness of antiquity, the Swastika
summons us—this sign of the fiery cross of life. Since the periods of ancient
migrations there remain in Tibet some typical forms of handicraft. But the art
of the great wanderers is entirely forgotten by modern Tibetans. True, that up
to now, the swords of Tibet remind you of the Gothic tombs. Fibulae and buckles
reveal to you the Goths and Alans.
One
recalls the unexpected information from the chronicles of Catholic
missionaries, that the site of Lhassa is somewhere called Gotha. In the Doring
district, in the Trans-Himalayas, we found an old buckle with the double-headed
eagle, so much like our discoveries in the South Russian steppes and northern
Caucasus. In the same locality we discovered ancient tombs entirely like the
tombs in Altai where the Goths passed.
The
women of this district wear a head-dress of the form of the Kokoshnik—so
typical of the Slavonic countries of Europe. At an altitude of fifteen thousand
feet, we also found ancient stone sanctuaries like those of the Druidic
sun-cult—but of this we shall speak later in detail. Hence, when we, freezing
in Chunargen, called Tibet jestingly the Land of the Niebelungen, we were
closer to the truth than we could have foreseen. Recalling all the
assimilations and imitations of Tibet, it is really impossible to speak about
Tibetan art. Really it is difficult to recall architectural, sculptural or
pictorial monuments which do not find their source in the refined treasures of
India and China.
Let
us also not forget the technical influence on Tibet on the side of Nepal. Nepal
itself has not created original forms and was nurtured by the influence of
India. In paintings, Nepal is without distinction, but good Nepalese metal
workers and goldsmiths from time immemorial, carried into Tibet a specific form
of technique.
Just
before me I have two excellent images of old Tibet: the image of Buddha in
which you immediately discern the Hindu type and Hindu influence. Another of
very fine work, is an image of Dalai Lama the Fifth, justly called the Great.
This image recalls the fine Chinese work and probably came from Derge. Now
Tibet does not make images of such perfection.
Authorities
say that the best Sino-Tibetan objects are to be found through China. And that
is so. Again, the Nepalo-Tibetan images can easily and justly be attributed to
Nepal and India.
A
collector once hearing my opinion that an original Tibetan Art did not exist,
became worried, and asked me whether it was at all worth while to collect this
art. To this I replied:
-
“Of
course it is worth while. Surely you do not love and value these images for the
sake of Tibet as such. Be it a Chinese or Nepalese hand that made them, is this
not immaterial to you? You are interested in the results of craftsmanship. And
whether you place the object in the Chinese section of your collection or
whether in the Indian-Nepalese one, does not influence the characteristics of
craftsmanship nor does it diminish the value of iconographical symbology.”
One
consequently observes the very curious fact, that east of Lhassa, China, in
certain respects, begins at once; whereas to the west there is the influence of
Nepal, although even in some monasteries of Ladak we noticed Tankas of a
comparatively recent date and of decidedly Chinese meaning and expression.
There
is also much Chinese influence in Sikhim. Visiting monasteries, one often meets
typical Chinese images in gold on black backgrounds, and statues of Chinese
dragons and lions. In the Sikhim monasteries one observes incidentally, a
custom which certainly merits praise. None of their sacred objects are for
sale, and they are all entered into special inventory lists; which indicates
already a certain degree of cultural self-consciousness. In Tibet and in the
western provinces of China this rule unfortunately does not yet apply.
An
interesting instance of western influence, we saw in Tibet where we found a
peculiar coin minted in Unan, representing Queen Victoria in Chinese garments.
The popular appreciation of silver Indian rupees produced this strange
imitation in which is seen the unique spell that the name of Queen Victoria
cast throughout the expanses of Asia.
After
mentioning the interpretive arts, such as painting, sculpture, wood and metal
work, one cannot omit also to refer to the condition of Tibetan architecture.
Of architecture in Tibet one may say about the same as of the other arts: It is
based on the Chinese. In the old constructions one may notice a considerable
solidity and a certain sweep of fantasy.
Looking
at them, there involuntarily comes to mind that it would not be difficult to
furnish these monumental many-storied structures and their effective balconies,
terraces and cornices with the latest innovations of the American skyscrapers.
But this strikingly decorative quality is to be found only in ancient
constructions, where the large architectural planes are set into beautiful
proportions by elaborate multicolored ornaments. All the new houses, however,
having lost in constructive grandeur, also lose the sharpness of accurate
craftsmanship. As often happens, a misguided emulation of “civilization”
destroys the most characteristic parts and the Tibetan house of today resembles
rather a clumsy badly built box in its construction.
As
regards temples, one must say that voluntary contributions have apparently
become rare and, whereas in old temples one sees work of wrought-gold and
finely carved ornaments, in the more recent temples only shoddy gilt clay
images, cheap tin and poorly carved wood-work are to be found.
One
still sees the curious Tanagra-like pottery, which in its proportions reminds
one so much of the antique amphoras. The appearance of the clumsy, heavy
Tibetans of today seems to have little in common with these fine and elaborate
lines. These forms were certainly created in the past under the effect of a
different psychology.
The
same thing is apparent, also, when you compare the new swords with the ancient
ones, or when comparing the present-day headwear with the family heirlooms
inherited from their grandmothers.
Among
the artistic handwork and ornaments, the so-called “dzi” beads have quite a
special place. They are considered as sacred objects and many legends and
beliefs have gathered about them. Some say that these stones are of natural
origin, like the onyx. Others say that they are found in the excrements of
cranes and also in the dung of yaks. Others say that they are found during the
field work and that they spring out of the grass with a special cracking sound.
And the people add that if one dzi springs out, others may usually be found
near that place.
In
view of the sacred and guarded peculiarities of the dzi, the price for them has
risen to fifteen hundred rupees, depending on their properties. An oblong bead
with one white eye is high in price, but still higher is the dzi with nine
eyes. For some strange reason the seven-eyed dzi is completely unknown.
Naturally
in view of the great value of the dzi, which brings health, wealth and good
fortune, there have appeared many imitations in China. But the Tibetans and the
Sikhimese easily discern them from the old ones. Incidentally, this is not very
difficult, for the present day dzi is much coarser and sharper in line, and is
devoid of that special transparency, which is so typical of the old dzi.
In
view of the definitely outlined designs, the possibility of a natural mineral
origin of the dzi must be absolutely rejected. Of course, they are the
handiwork of very old times. The story that dzi are found when working the
fields and usually several dzi together, would lead to the same conclusion.
Only one question remains unsolved: From where did the dzi originally come into
Tibet, and to what people did they belong?
As
is usual in many countries, objects brought into a country by foreign travelers
are considered to be of heavenly origin and a sacred meaning is attached to
them… Maybe the excavation of ancient burial places in Tibet could afford a
solution to this question, which is almost unmentioned in literature, but to
which such importance is attached in Tibet itself. Already the unprecedented
high prices and the specially designed imitations indicate what attention the
local population gives to the dzi beads.
In
the technical tradition it is very interesting to trace the same methods which
are characteristic of the medieval Ikon paintings which were used until recent
times by the professional Russian rustic Ikon painters. Watching the work of
lama Ikon painters, I recognized a method of work completely like the work of
the Russian provincial Ikon painters. In the same way the wood or canvas is
prepared. In the same manner the “levkas”— that is chalk and glue—is prepared
for the background. Similarly is the prepared wood and canvas polished by a
shell or horn. In the same way is the stencil transferred and colored with very
fine brushes.
The
only difference is that the Russian Ikon painters cover the Ikon with oil
varnish. They carefully preserve the formula of this varnish and are proud of
the durability of the work. Russian Ikon painters often have manuscripts in
script about the technique of Ikons and these are sometimes written in a secret
symbolical code. Such manuscripts are preserved in families and only handed
down from father to son. Of such manuals I have never heard in Tibet. One more
resemblance between Tibetan and Russian Ikon painters: Both chant during their
work and often the Russian Ikon painters intone the old chants about Yosephat
Tzarevitch, not suspecting that they sing of the Blessed Buddha. Yosephat is
the altered pronunciation of Bodhisattva.
Another
circumstance indicated the close influence of China on the art of Tibet. The
best Tibetan Ikon painters come from Kham. The best images are molded in Derge,
and there also the printing is best. Tibetans themselves say that they cannot
imitate the perfection of the Chinese work. The Maharajah of Sikhim possesses a
group of very colorful Tankas of apparent Chinese quality. Certainly the series
must be from Kham. Some good works are also to be found in Tashi lhunpo as
befitted the residence of the spiritual head of Tibet.
One
may find, however, many touching details of ikonographic work. There still is
left to us the interest in ikonography and the symbolism of images! To study it
is highly instructive. You may find many forgotten occult laws. Pay attention
to how the auras are depicted. Look on the magic mirrors. Study the meaning of
the magic circle of Mandala of Norbu-rinpoche. But the contemporary artists
know less of these laws. The Kalachakra, brought from India by Atticha, is
repeated without application to life. But “will everything which has fallen—not
rise again?” In the future there will be a new Tibetan people and a Tibetan
art. But when and how?
“With fire is the space filled. Already the
lightning of Kalki Avatar—predestined Maitreya—flashes upon the horizon.”
The
regeneration of Tibet will come. There were moments when after cataclysms the
consciousness was awakened in full vigor by these explosions of spiritual
accumulations. Entire vivid epochs were created. Some people may still remain
immovable, devouring raw meat, losing their teeth from scurvy, from an
unhealthy life and rotting in unchanged germ-ridden skins. In Lhassa it is
temporarily forbidden to have electric lights on the streets. Moving pictures
are forbidden. In all Tibet the laity is forbidden to shave its hair and has
again been ordered to garb itself in long khalats, and in Tibetan-Chinese
shoes. All these symptoms are not ordained by the Blessed One. Because each
teaching foresees the possession of possibilities and the evolutionary
movement. These Tibetan forbiddances are revealing mechanical superstitious
worship of the past. But we shall ask:
-
“Which
past do you worship? To which of your grandfathers do you wish to pay homage?”
In
retrogression one can go back even to the inarticulate sounds of his
forefathers. The past is good as long as it does not impede the future. We love
and value all the beauty and charm of the past. We confirm that “from the
stones of the past may be erected the steps of the future.” But from the
stones, let us lay out the complete majestic steps of new beauty and knowledge.
And what can evolve, if the death of the past has occurred and the future is
forbidden?
* * *
But
from where shall Tibet now accept the teachings? Yet in the midnight, into the
tent a lama comes and cautiously peering about, speaks of the purification of
the entire teaching. Such lamas do not live in Lhassa but on the heights.
Out
of the desert distances a rider rushes from unknown friends. He whispers
friendly advice—arranges his gold-woven kaftan and disappears into the twilight
of the desert.
Whence
art thou, messenger? Whence is thy smile?
Shekar
Dzong, 1928.
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