A spectacular selection of Tibetan religious art is touring three Taiwan cities, helping unmask some of the mystery and complexity of traditional Tibetan culture and its exotic form of Buddhism.
Tibetan art can be a bit overwhelming. Stand in front of a large 14th century scroll painting filled with Buddhist images and jataka tales (heuristic scenes from the life of the Buddha), for instance, and the impact is like having the intricacies of Bach's Goldberg Variations and the lushness of a Vivaldi concerto simultaneously rendered into visible form. Gold, scarlet, emerald, indigo, and black are favored colors in Tibetan sacred art, and when used together in weavings or paintings that illustrate religious leaders and sages, adepts and deities, and the various manifestations of the Buddha revered by Tibetans, the results are stunning--even in works where the ravages of time have dimmed some of the pigments' intensity.
This sacred art, also incredibly rich in statuary and ritual implements, is the product of many centuries of individual devotion, skill, and creativity as well as support by lamaseries and the Tibetan government, but in recent decades it has been in serious danger of extinction. Mainland China's leaders have established a well-earned reputation for being dedicated to the destruction of Tibet's religious heritage, which means nothing less than eliminating the very life-blood of Tibetan society and culture.
Early steps in this process came in 1959, when a large number of Tibetans left their homeland along with His Holiness the Dalai Lama, the Tibetan god-king, when he fled from the Chinese Communist repression in Tibet. Approximately 80,000 lamas and laity took tortuous routes, primarily by foot, to reach highland havens in Nepal, Bhutan, and northern India. They carried with them loads of art, artifacts, and other cultural possessions in order to preserve these priceless objects from almost sure destruction.
This first exodus brought worldwide attention to Tibet--its traditional culture and its contemporary problems--prompting more foreign travelers to visit the so-called top of the world, as well as piquing greater curiosity about the doctrine and practices of Tibetan Buddhism. This growing interest was stimulated further by another tragedy: the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), the brainchild of Mao Zedong, which the Great Helmsman launched as much to maintain personal power as to build a "new" China in his own image. Mao's Red Guards wreaked extraordinary human and cultural destruction in Tibet, prompting countless more lamas and laity to seek asylum. Many of these refugees were destitute, and over the years have had to sell their treasured artwork in order to survive.
Wisdom and Compassion: The Sacred Art of Tibet --since January of this year being exhibited in Taiwan as part of a world tour that began in 1991--brings together works purchased by museums and private collectors from Tibetan refugees and, more recently, from various temples and lamaseries forced to sell objects d'art in order to raise money for restoring temples destroyed during the Cultural Revolution.
The increasing availability of so many Tibetan artifacts, beginning in the 1960s, made it possible for Western scholars to conduct in-depth research on Tibetan religion and culture. The hippie movement that emerged in America during the sixties also helped boost interest in Tibet, partly because Tibetan Buddhist teachings about the search for peace in body and soul were well suited to the idealistic mood of the times. Many so-called flower children in the West traveled to Bhutan, Nepal, India, and Tibet in an attempt to find their souls and inner peace.
Today, many former flower children have retained deep interest in the study and preservation of Tibetan civilization- -and some of them, including Robert Thurman, co-founder and president of Tibet House, New York, a non-profit foundation established in 1987 to support Tibetan culture, have helped support this exhibition of Tibet's sacred art. Wisdom and Compassion opened in San Francisco, traveled to New York, then moved to England, Germany, Spain, and Japan, and now is drawing large crowds in Taiwan.
Tibetan Buddhism came to Taiwan in the late 1940s, but has only become a popular form of belief in recent years. Although a visit by the Dalai Lama to the island in March 1997 drew more attention to the beliefs of some 500,000 local followers, most people still knew little about Tibetan Buddhism (also known as Lamaism) beyond a general feeling that its religious art and rituals were highly colorful, ornate, and sometimes a bit outlandish.
The current show of Tibetan sacred art, backed by a two-volume exhibition catalogue translated into Chinese, is helping dispel some of its mysteries--for instance, explaining how some complex designs actually serve as mandala, and are therefore representative of the meditative dimensions of Tibetan Buddhism. The translation job was done right, much of the complex task being handled by Ge Wang-zhang (葛婉章), a senior researcher at Taipei's National Palace Museum.
The result? Taiwan's internationalizing populace, already well-known for its rush to sample Western products and trends, is now getting a rich cultural taste of the western reaches of China. The exhibition is a contemporary twist on the 16th century novel Journey to the West (also known as The Adventures of the Monkey King), in which the 7th century Buddhist priest Hsüan-tsang goes to India to obtain sacred texts. Today, the sacred art of China's far West has journeyed to Taiwan.
The positive local response to the exhibition, sequentially showing in Taipei, Kaohsiung, and Taichung, has been no surprise to the organizers and sponsors (major local support comes from the China Times Group), because the show has consistently drawn rave reviews. The exhibition has a total of 181 pieces of art--primarily paintings (called thangka in Tibetan) and gilded bronze statuary--crafted from the 9th century, when Buddhism first flourished in Tibet, to the 19th century. The selection, drawn from eleven museums and more than twenty private collectors, has representative styles of Tibetan art from China's vast western lands, including current-day Mongolia and Central Asia, as well as from various regions of Tibet itself.
Tibet House President Robert Thurman, who is also a recognized Tibetan art scholar at Columbia University, and Marylin Rhie, a professor of Asian art at Smith College, are the exhibition's curators. Thurman pointed out during the gala opening in January that the show has proven so popular globally that its tour schedule is fully booked until the year 2000.
Given such demand, how was Taiwan able to land the exhibition? Support came from the highest level: During last year's visit to Taipei, the Dalai Lama announced during a press conference that the exhibition would be brought to the island.
But even prior to the Dalai Lama's visit, local interest in Tibetan culture was increasing. For example, local bookstores have sold close to 250,000 copies of the Chinese edition of The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche, a high-ranking lama, according to Living Psychology Publishers. Traditional Tibetan amulets such as "eye beads" (or dzi beads, believed to protect their wearers from evil spirits) have also become high-demand items and are commanding high prices in local antique markets. Moreover, the exhibition follows a recent burst of local interest in Tibetan culture brought about last December by a visit by actor Richard Gere, who serves as chairman of Tibet House, New York. Gere visited a number of Taipei's Tibetan organizations, expressed his support of Tibetan culture, and helped raise funds for humanitarian causes.
What lies behind the show's title? According to Ge Wang-zhang, "wisdom and compassion" are at the heart of Buddhist teachings. "In Tibetan Buddhism, it is important that people use both wisdom and compassion to achieve ultimate happiness and peace of mind," he says. "Without either of these two qualities, there is no hope for ultimate happiness." Where does love fit in? Ge explains: "When people have compassion, they do not expect their compassion toward others to be returned. But when people love, they yearn for the loved one to love in return. Tibet Buddhism encourages people to give compassion, not love."
The task of designing and mounting the exhibition locally fell to Kris Yao (姚仁喜), a respected local architect and a devoted Tibetan Buddhist. "I was given less than a month to come up with the concept and to complete the whole setup," he said in an interview during the exhibition. "Normally, my office would not accept cases with such a short deadline." To create an atmosphere that would immediately give a feeling for Tibet, Yao used flowing curtains and drapes, hung from ceilings and on the walls, in colors that appear frequently in Tibetan art. Hues of red, blue, green, and gold dominate the galleries, which are suffused with soft light. "We wanted to establish a mood that would make viewers feel as though they were walking into a Mongolian yurt," Yao says, referring to the tent-like dwellings common also on the Tibetan steppes.
Reactions to the exhibition have been quite varied. Art specialists, such as Jane Fong (馮賽珍), an Asian art consultant based in Taipei, visited the show several times. "The exhibition is absolutely fascinating," Fong says. "There is so much to learn about Tibet from these works. I found that I needed to do more study before I went to see the show again, after it moved to Kaohsiung."
Other show visitors have been taken aback by some of the exhibits, especially the statuary. Besides representations of the Buddha, bodhisattvas, arhats, lohans (Buddhist saints), protector deities, and other figures, there are several handsome bronze statues of a female deity called Green Tara. These are partially clothed and sit or stand in positions considered impolite, at least by straight-laced Confucian standards. One local visitor was heard to hiss, "How could a female deity expose her body like that! It's outrageous, disgraceful!" The deity in question sits with legs spread in the "royal ease" manner on a lotus petal and, apart from slim, Indian-style trousers, she wears only an assortment of necklaces that fail to cover her breasts.
Another exhibition visitor gives a frank and more sympathetic assessment of his first view of Tibetan art: "I am totally perplexed by the paintings. They are full of loud colors, flamboyant expressions, and sensual figures, with almost garish suggestiveness. They have a frightening vitality. These works are completely different from the Buddhist religious art I'm accustomed to."
The show presents a solid introduction to Tibetan religious culture. The collection includes a rich diversity of religious icons representing the four main sects of Tibetan Buddhism: the Nyingma, Sakya, Kagyu, and Geluk orders. But the paintings and statues, covering ten centuries of religious artistic craftsmanship, represent only a small selection of the pantheon. Hung-shi Chang (張宏實), another local Tibetan art researcher, says that there are more than a thousand different known Tibetan Buddhist deities, and in earlier centuries there may have been more than twice as many. "It would be extremely difficult for most viewers to differentiate among those represented in this exhibition," Chang says. "But trying to recognize all the deities in the show is really beside the point; what's important is to appreciate Tibetan culture through these marvelous works."
Perhaps the most controversial items in the exhibition were those statues showing male and female deities embracing in the most intimate manner. Jessica Hsu (徐盼蘋), an Asian art expert at the Jeff Hsu Chinese Antiques Co. in Taipei, helped organize the Taiwan show. She says that, unfortunately, most people misinterpret these statues. "In Tibetan Buddhism, the male represents compassion, while the female represents wisdom. When a male deity embraces a female deity, it symbolizes the union of wisdom and compassion, and thus the ultimate happiness of human beings. This represents a level of bliss that is much higher than the happiness gained through the physical union of a man and woman."
According to Lee Mei-ling (李梅齡), managing editor of the Art & Culture Section of the daily China Times and exhibition coordinator of the China Times Group, such misunderstandings of art can serve a productive purpose by stimulating popular interest in the works that could lead to a desire for further study. Lee, who was assigned by the Times Group to plan, oversee, and coordinate the exhibition, says that "Educating the general public is crucial to any large-scale, world-class exhibition mounted in Taiwan, and Wisdom and Compassion is a good example."
To meet this need, tour guides were trained in the technical language of Tibetan art in order to introduce the collection to exhibition visitors. Moreover, Ge Wang-zhang and the rest of the team responsible for translating the Chinese edition of the exhibition catalogue took the educative dimension of their work very seriously. "Scholars went through lengthy heated discussions about the religious terms in the catalogue," Lee says. "The goal was to make the catalogue intelligible to every one by avoiding obscure terminology."
Also under Lee's careful planning, scholarly articles on various aspects of Tibet were rewritten for a general readership and published daily in the China Times during the week prior to the exhibition's opening, and the paper published frequent follow-up reports on the show. "This was a tremendous project accomplished by a very special task force," says Lee, who was also responsible for helping put together another major visiting show of Impressionist art from the Louvre, which was mounted at the National Palace Museum in 1995 and also sponsored by the China Times Group.
The task of organization this time around was no less complex. Each of the eleven museums contributing pieces to the show insisted on flying in people to handle their own artworks. In addition, each museum had a list of special regulations to follow for shipping, insurance, packing, and unpacking. "Frankly, we didn't realize how taxing the whole project would be, until we actually started," Lee says. "The situation got more and more chaotic as opening day came closer. Just meeting the museum representatives and dealing with the complicated paperwork at customs was enough to exhaust our people, who were constantly making the hour-long trip each way between Taipei and the CKS International Airport." Looking back, however, Lee says that the popular success of the exhibition makes it all worthwhile.
As the show moves to its final island stop in Taichung, popular interest in Tibetan culture continues to flourish. Books on its artistic achievements are reportedly selling at a brisk pace, and special classes on Tibetan history, culture, and related topics are being offered by various galleries and other private institutions. And even the demand for Tibetan art has soared in the antique market. All of this is evidence that what was formerly a stranger from the West has now become a familiar acquaintance.
Copyright 1998 by Winnie Chang.