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.
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