A Tale of Tibetan Art Created for Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget by Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

A Tale of Tibetan Art Created for Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget by Savvy Mom Ruth Paget 

“Who’s the Dalai Lama?” asked my daughter Florence.  Sooner or later you will get this question in California.  There are many Tibetan monks, who live here north of San Francisco.  The Dalai Lama is also a prolific author, whose photo my daughter had seen on many visits to the bookstore.

Without going into reincarnation, I answered her question, “The Dalai Lama is the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism.  We sell a lot of Tibetan art at the gallery where I work.  Would you like to come see some of it,” I asked Florence.

“What’s the art like?,” she asked.

“Some of it looks like the illustrations in those Jataka books about Buddha’s life as an animal before he became Buddha,” I said.

“That could be interesting.  I’d like to see it,” she said.

So, I arranged to bring Florence into the gallery on one of my off days to the gallery.  I was able to work at the gallery, because I had studied Buddhist art as my major in Far Eastern Languages and Civilizations at the University of Chicago.  I sent in an article I wrote about an exhibit on Chinese art at the Museum of Monterey as my resume.  The owner checked transcripts and knew I also had an undeclared second major in Western art history as well.

I knew more about Japanese and Chinese art when I had been hired, but one of the conditions of my employment was that I would be able to read the private, limited editions of books about Tibetan, Nepalese, Indian, and Iranian art in the gallery’s library.  

(Almost every gallery in Carmel has a private library used to authenticate artwork.)  I had to leave a credit card hostage when I took one of the books home to read overnight.  When I got through all the books, I felt like I was ready to identify and appraise Buddhist art for Sotheby’s or Christie’s.

Basically, the gallery I worked for was selling artwork to museums or to philanthropists who would eventually donate the artwork to museums.  The Dalai Lama had given the gallery owner his blessing to sell the artwork to save Tibet’s patrimony.  The items on display were exceptional, and I wanted Florence to see them.

When we arrived, the gallery managers were playing Tibetan chanting on the sound system.

“That’s awful,” Florence said.

“No, it’s bong-bong-bong,” I said, trying to imitate the sound of the monks chanting.

The air smelled sweet from the Tibetan incense the mangers were burning.

The Tibetan monastery chests we sold gleamed from polishing.  These chests held religious objects from monasteries in Tibet.  I stood in front of one and pointed out the eight Buddhist symbols on the chests just like I did with clients.  Some of the symbols change, but most adhere to the following iconographical scheme:

“That’s the knot called a mandala.”

“That’s the lotus which represents purity and enlightenment.  A lotus can grow even in dirty, muddy water,” I said to Florence.

“This symbol is the banner of victory which is a sign for when Buddha beat Mara the demon and became enlightened.”

“This is the dharmachakra.  It is an eight-pointed wheel that you spin.  It is a sign of royalty.  Buddha was a prince before he was a spiritual leader,” I said.

“The vase here represents health, wealth, and prosperity for those who become enlightened by beating evil.”

“The golden fish pair represents a man and a woman being happy.”

“This parasol or umbrella protects the faithful from suffering and harm.”

“Finally, the conch shell is a battle horn.  Buddhists also have a warrior tradition of people who protect the faith,” I said. 

We walked around the store and identified these symbols on the other chests.

Then, we looked at art that was sitting on top of the chests beginning with the singing bowls.

“These bowls are made of brass.  If you place it on your flat hand and move this rod around the edge, it will vibrate and make a nice sound,” I said.  I did it once and helped Florence do it until she could make the bowl sing alone.  Next, she tried her hand at making the glass bowls of various sizes sing.

“I tell people they used these glass bowls in Atlantis to make music to make them laugh,” I told Florence.

“Atlantis didn’t exist,” Florence remarked, totally mesmerized by the singing bowls.

When she was done playing with the singing bowls, I wrapped a pashmina scarf around Florence’s neck. 

“These are really soft and can only be made with the moustache of Tibetan goats.  You should really only own one and treasure it,” I said.

I found a real-life dharmachakra with eight spokes and let Florence spin it.

“What does this do?” she asked.

“It keeps your hands busy, so you can concentrate on more important things,” I said to Florence.

“Look at these portable shrines,” I said to Florence and handed several to her.

She opened the doors out on the shrines one by one.

“This one has a picture of the Dalai Lama inside,” she remarked.

“The Chinese don’t like that one.  Tibet is a part of China now.  The Chinese made the Dalai Lama leave.  He’s trying to get his country back, which the Chinese don’t like,” I said.

I took Florence into the office where there was a picture of one of the managers with the Potala Palace in the background.

“The Dalai Lama lived in that palace in the picture before he left Tibet.  It’s called the Potala Palace,” I said.

“What city is it in?” Florence asked.

“Lhasa,” I said.

One of the managers showed Florence Tibetan prayer scrolls.

“The Tibetans have an alphabet.  Look how it lies flat along the top and has angles and circles below,” I said as I showed her these items.

The manager said he had two pictures of Tara to show us.  There are many Taras in the Tibetan pantheon, so I asked, “Which one?”

“The white one,” he responded.

He let Florence lift the cover off a thangka painting to show a beautiful woman with dark hair sitting demurely on a lotus flower.  Her closed mouth smile was enchanting.

“She’s beautiful,” Florence said.

“I have a second picture of her, too,” the manager said.

Florence lifted the white cloth on the thangka and quickly stepped back as she dropped the covering.

“The White Tara is the fiercest of all the Taras, Ruth,” the manager said to me.  He lifted the cover and showed her to me.

I looked at the image, this White Tara had large open-mouthed smile with fangs dripping with blood.”

“Does she cause earthquakes, too?” I asked the manager.

“If she wishes it.  She gets everything she truly wants,” the manager said.

This was pretty theatrical but the real mis-en-scène spectacle was about to take place.  The owner of the store came striding in wearing costume.

The owner climbed the Himalayas as a hobby.  He had on his climbing gear with a parakeet on his shoulder. 

He stood by me and opened the cabinet where he kept the wavy kris swords from Indonesia.  He gave one of the kris swords to me and took one for himself.

He told Florence, “We are the protective deities of Buddhism and will protect you from evil at all costs.”  He began to jab in front of him saying, “Back!” I joined in saying, “Off with Mara the demon’s head.  Stay away from Florence!”   I jabbed the Kris into opponents all around the store and growled.

Florence sat on a Persian carpet, which the store also sold, and smiled and laughed at the protective deities making so much noise in the store.  Some clients came in and started yelling, “Down with Mara!” when the managers told them what was going on.

We stopped wielding our kris swords when we ran out of breath.  “I’ll show you what Buddha looked like after he defeated Mara the Demon and his armies,” I said to Florence.

“See that statue of Buddha whose right hand is touching the ground.  That’s Buddha when he became enlightened.  He became enlightened, because he defeated evil.  You can tell he used to be a prince by the bun on top of his head, his long ears from wearing heavy earrings, and his nice clothes,” I said.

I showed Florence some Tibetan jewelry.

“Feel how heavy this is.  It’s long and pointy to emphasize the face.  It’s inlaid with turquoise and carnelian.  Jewelry like this caused Buddha’s ears to become long,” I said.

We walked around the store some more and stood next to sculptures of bhodisattvas.

“These sculptures look like Buddha, but they are actually what are called bhodisattvas.  These are people who could be enlightened by defeating evil like Buddha, but who choose to wait so they can help other people become enlightened,” I said. 

The managers of the store had conveniently placed Bhodisattva sculpture all together in the store. 

“There are two main bhodisattvas in Tibetan Buddhism.  The first is Avalokiteshvara, who is called the bhodisattva of compassion or kindness.  The other bhodisattva that is popular in Tibetan Buddhism is Matreiya, called the future Buddha.  He’s not a Buddha, but looks like one.  Matreiya would be like the winner in Survivor, because he’s alone.  Unlike survivor, everyone except him would be enlightened,” I said.

“There’s one last thing I want to you to see.  This is a dorje, which is also called a vajra.  It is called a thunderbolt and diamond and is said to represent Tibet.  It is also the gift of creativity,” I said as I handed the double-headed object that looked like it had two crowns on either end to Florence.

Florence rolled it around in her hands and said, “This is interesting.”

“One last thing.  Everyone who comes in this store leaves with a pair of Tibetan socks they have purchased.  I tell them the socks are the best souvenir deal in town, so you get a pair, too,” I said to Florence.

Florence hugged the socks to her chest on the way out and smiled at the sculptures of the protective deities by the door with their eyes bulging and tongues hanging out.

(The symbolism of the Black and White Madonna is real in Tibetan art.  I think this symbolism is founded in science for the following reason:

When you are really angry, blood flows away from your extremities, especially your face, leaving you pale white.

Asians and white people become very pale when angry.  Black people become rather pink.  (I have seen angry people in Detroit.)

People go to the Black Madonna, for help, in Buddhism as in Catholicism, but they turn into a White Madonna in Tibetan Buddhism, if they are angry for an injustice done to them and their family. 

A White Madonna may begin to fight what she feels is injustice towards her and her family in an unjust society.  Fighting does not imply violence. 

Buddhists tend to know that economic exploitation is the true root of all evil and will work to eradicate it for themselves and others in their community to remove corruption from society. 

By Ruth Paget - Author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France

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