Vernacular Painting and Transitional Beijing

Created around 1915, Chen Shizeng's Beijing Fengsu album represents a pictorial experiment that led to his subsequent well-known theoretical recasting of Chinese literati painting as a progressive and universally comprehensible visual language. Through an examination of the stylistic and technical innovations of the paintings, the essay demonstrates that the album's function as a visual record of Beijing folk customs is in part a historical byproduct of a then urgent attempt to establish the pictorial expression of a new subjectivity by a leading member of China's last generation of literati. Through the aid of drawing from direct observation, emulation of visual effects from Western-style drawing using Chinese ink and pigments, incorporation of antiquarian motifs, and unconventional compositional schemes, the album managed to reinvent vernacular painting (fengsu hua) and establish the popular pictorial genre manhua in modern China.

When Walls Could Talk

How can visual texts, closed books, and painted images work together in Buddhist temples to reinforce one another and act upon viewers? The fourteenth-century murals at the Tibetan temple of Shalu integrate pictures with long passages of Tibetan texts and select inscriptions that explain the powers of seeing paintings. The murals combine and mix media—books, paintings, cloth—into expressive wholes that ultimately argue that walls are in fact much more than walls. The paintings find ways to make the temple's book collections more accessible. Here we find a public art effort that weaves together a compelling argument for why religious texts and religious art both “work” for and on their audiences. Shalu was a grandly expanded temple showing off its resources and its connections in a broader cosmopolitan sphere of production and exchange. Its walls were designed to weave media together, finding ways to celebrate and explain larger and newer corporate productions (book projects, larger monasteries). An intentional play of materiality (clay, cloth, book) emphasized by the inscriptions and performed in the pictorial compositions assists in the imaginative act of directly seeing deities, while also playing with the awareness that acts of imagination entail the play of just-like/seeing-as. Since neither clay nor cloth nor word on their own are adequate vessels for representing an enlightened being, here they collaborate with each other and with viewers in the imaginative act, promising that the deity, like the teachings, can be directly experienced.

Envisioning Paradise

The majority of the murals at Dunhuang that depict Maitreya are dominated by his three assemblies, thereby emphasizing the salvific power of the future Buddha after he has descended to earth. This article examines scenes from the Maitreya murals, highlighting details appearing across the murals that allow us to understand how adherents imagined life in an earthly paradise. Most scenes in the murals accentuate the magnificence of life in Maitreya's terrestrial Buddhaland, characterized by manageable yet rewarding labor and a long life that never ends suddenly, all in a clean urban environment. Hence, in this realm some labor is still required and social hierarchies are maintained. Unlike the celestial realm of Amitābha Buddha, Maitreya's land is ruled by an ideal leader, the Wheel-Turning King Saṅkha. The article concludes by examining the tension between the power of the religious leader and the political ruler, evident even though the paintings do not include representations of Saṅkha himself. Rather, they depict his regalia, his gift, and his family in prominent positions, near Maitreya, thus suggesting that the future Buddha absorbed Saṅkha's political power, which parallels contemporaneous political and religious developments.

The Time Machines of Eighteenth-Century Mewar

The focus of this essay is a spectacular scroll in the British Museum's collections that has been neither exhibited nor published since its acquisition. Perhaps that is because several fundamental questions about it remain unanswered: Where and when was it made? Who made it, and for whom? What purpose and meaning did it have for the first people who saw it and those who subsequently came into contact with it? In this essay, I begin to address these elementary questions. I establish that this eleven-foot-long scroll was created in Mewar in western India in 1769, and that since then it has cleaved many realms. Those realms include art and devotion, text and textile, astral science and genealogy, classical epics and vernacular histories, and cyclical time and linear time. I then postulate that understanding this short scroll's ability to nimbly separate and join those realms can help us critically appreciate the forms, layouts, and functions of two other contemporaneous cloth scrolls from the same region that are considerably longer and also have received sparse scholarly attention. Ultimately, I show how micro studies of scrolls and scrolling practices can allow us to understand forms of knowledge in Mewar on the eve of British colonialism, and to participate in challenging certain perceptions of the region's past that remain inflected by James Tod's writings nearly two hundred years after their publication.

A Revisionist Reading of the Transition of Buddhist Cave-Making from Yungang to Longmen

This study reexamines images and textual materials that can be related to the dating and iconography of caves at Yungang and Longmen and the historical transition between them. The transition is associated with the move of the Northern Wei capital from Pingcheng to Luoyang, and the beginnings of the Longmen caves is widely believed to coincide with the establishment of the capital at Luoyang in 495. Inscriptions in the Guyang Cave have been interpreted to support the widely held belief that it was created at the time of the move of the capital. Visual evidence of sculptural practice and transitions in sculptural art that can be observed broadly between caves and cave site can also be seen in micro-environments within a single cave or a single niche that offer new insights. Through comparative analysis of the caves' images and artworks found in other contexts, and their consideration in conjunction with textual materials, the author proposes a revisionist reconstruction of the early work in the Guyang Cave.

The Imprisoned Queen

This paper reconsiders how and why the representation of landscape became an increasingly central component of Pure Land art in the Tang dynasty. Focusing on the seventh-century Cave 209, I examine the first set of mountain panels at Dunhuang, arguing that those polychrome landscapes represent Vulture Peak, the sacred abode of Śākyamuni Buddha. Cave 209 shows how Lady Vaidehī—the protagonist of the Meditation Sutra—emerges as the first female viewer of landscape in Chinese art. Departing from the Meditation Sutra, painters at Dunhuang resituate Lady Vaidehī, the formerly imprisoned royal consort and model Pure Land adept, within mountain ranges where she converses with the Buddha. I argue that Lady Vaidehī's encounter with the Buddha is mapped onto the space of a Dunhuang cave to enable the viewer to assume her position when facing the icon of Śākyamuni surrounded by Vulture Peak. By grappling with Vaidehī's imprisonment, painters use landscape to develop a new spatial imagery of salvation. I maintain that the striking innovations in landscape representation at Dunhuang—achievements that have been seen to anticipate later Tang “blue and green” landscapes—are in actuality based on an effort to visualize Buddhist soteriology in the early seventh century.

Newly Discovered Śaiva-Ascetic Icons from West Bengal

Koṭivarṣa, a sacred place and an administrative unit that is mentioned in early medieval Indian religious and epigraphic sources from 700 to 1200 ce, is the area of focus of this essay. As an administrative unit, it was almost coterminous with the old Dinajpur district of Bengal, which is now divided into the present Indian state of West Bengal and Bangladesh. At one point in time, its headquarters came to be known as Devīkoṭa, underscoring its rise as a prime place for Devī, the Mother goddess. Sculptural arrays of the Mother goddess from this place point to the domineering presence of her fearsome principles; they parallel textual descriptions about the sacred importance of a wrathful form of the Mother, normally referred to as Cāmuṇḍā. The religious texts, however, do not speak of the ascetics who might have performed the rituals to propitiate the Mother. We do not yet know if any new dimension was added to the corpus of rituals, and the Śiva-Śakti power equation after the Saiddhāntika Śaiva preceptors affiliated with Golagī great monastery of Durvāsas lineage entered Devīkoṭa at the end of the tenth century. This essay searches for answers in the visual elements on the lower registers of stone steles, such as the devotees/donors, other individuals in the service of the Mother Goddess, potfuls of offerings, and the environment of cremation grounds in which worship took place. The main deity and associated figures occupying the larger space in the middle of the steles have tantric content. Icons of Śaiva ascetics from West Bengal, including the three newly discovered examples, are important subjects for this essay, which concludes with the transformation of Devīkoṭa to Bangarh, where Śiva emerged as the chief god par excellence. The Devī had lost her koṭa, her bastion, forever.

A Word for Shen Yuan

This paper discusses the roles of Shen Yuan, an artist at the Yongzheng court, who produced the monochrome cartoon of Qingming shanghe tu, and of the five court artists who produced the final version in colors on silk. Their respective contributions show that Shen Yuan used details from Zhang Zeduan's Song-dynasty original and later versions to create an entirely new composition. The five court artists adhered closely to Shen Yuan's cartoon, while adding some embellishments. The unusual honor accorded to the cartoon, bearing seals of Prince Bao, and mounted with the same brocade as Qiu Ying's version, highlight Shen Yuan's seminal role, despite his name not appearing in the finished painting.

Iconographic Volatility in the Fuxi-Nüwa Triads of the Han Dynasty

Over the span of some two hundred years, from the late Western Han to the late Eastern Han, triad images featuring a prominent central being flanked by two smaller, snake-bodied figures, occurred on murals and carved stones in Henan, Shandong, and adjacent areas. The iconographic schema of the flanking figures, Nüwa and Fuxi, appears mature and stable, with their identities consistently determined by their half-human, half-serpent, and gendered bodies as well as by the divine objects they hold—sun and moon, compass and T square, numinous mushrooms. The iconography of the third being, however, appears far less consistent and somewhat elusive, yielding many different identifications by scholars. The seemingly anomalous pictorial program speaks to the issue of iconographic volatility in Han art. Looking across the corpus of triad images, this essay identifies the volatile third being as the Grand One, and proposes that its figural metamorphoses were predicated on the amorphousness of the supreme deity of Daoist cosmogony. Distilling the three most important formal aspects of the Grand One—a therianthropic being, a forceful facilitator, and a regal icon—this essay argues that the triad images embodied a coherent program depicting the cosmogonic origin of the world that began with the Grand One conjugating yin and yang, associated with Nüwa and Fuxi respectively. The emergence of this triad imagery coincided with evolving Daoist thought during the Han dynasty.

The Literary and Legendary Lives of the Onoe Bell

During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a large eleventh-century bronze bell made in Korea became a grand attraction on the grounds of Onoe Shrine in Kakogawa, Japan. Although such bells are made of expensive material that require significant financial investment and technical skill, most are overlooked as common fixtures inside bell towers at Buddhist temples across Asia. Yet the bell at Onoe Shrine has a particularly complex and fascinating story to tell. Using object biography as an approach to study this unusual monument enables us to see how this bell became the popular subject of legends, travel-diary accounts, gazetteer entries, popular woodblock prints, and souvenirs made in a variety of materials. The bell's legendary life story accorded it the ability to solve human problems and use its voice to demand where it should be located, which fueled people's desire to see it with their own eyes and to make physical contact with it. This examination of the bell's intertwining life tales reveals how, after initially serving as a ritual object at a Korean Buddhist temple, it experienced dramatic transformations into a high-value export (or trafficked) commodity, Japanese poetic trope, shrine treasure, and tourist draw.