Serenity and grace
NIRANJANI IYER
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The exhibition of treasures from the Gupta period at the Grand Palais, Paris, was a window on another world.
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Contemplative beauty: A statue of the Buddha.
WHAT catches the eye when one walks into the exhibition of the treasures from the Gupta period are the gold coins. Embedded in glass, they seem to be suspended in time. Delicate, intricate and finely wrought, they are good harbingers for what is to f
ollow.
India is the Flavour of the Year in France. Forty-seven years after the exhibition “Indian Art Treasures” organised by that inveterate Indophile, André Malraux, at the Petit Palais, Paris is host to “The Gupta Empire: A Golden Age of Classical India” at the Grand Palais. A long time to wait and the French seem more than eager to make up for lost time if one takes the queue at the inauguration as an example (it took us a little more than an hour just to get in).
The Gupta art exhibition was initially planned, at the instance of President Jacques Chirac in 1998, as an exchange for the Picasso retrospective organised by the French in India.
Complex coordination
However, this exhibition of some 110 chef d’oeuvres consisting of stone, terracotta and bronze sculptures as well as elements of architectural décor such as gavakshas and lintels had taken over nine years to be put togeth
er. This was partly due to the complexity of coordination between 17 regional and state museums and partly because the Indian side apparently insisted on waiting for the renovation of the Grand Palais to be completed in order to have the exhibition there and nowhere else.
Which makes it all the more strange that the exhibition was not under the magnificently restored glass-roofed main gallery, but tucked away into a smaller area… worry about light damage perhaps? But I digress.
The Gupta era (320-650 AD) was considered to be the Golden age of India and is often compared to the T’ang dynasty or the Roman Empire. Great patrons of artistic and scientific endeavours, they gave rise to artists such as Kalidasa and Shudraka as well as mathematicians like Aryabhatta and Varahamira among others. Though primarily Vaishnavite, their religious tolerance is also evinced by the constant quality and development of Buddhist, Jain or Shaivite art throughout their Empire — Mathura and Sarnath being two quintessential centres whose artistic influence would be felt not just in the art of Northern India but also in Nepal, South Asia and even Central Asia.
The exhibition starts on a promising note with the gold coins, a stupa stunning in its simplicity and a seated Yaksha. Overwhelming impression of light and space. This impression stays, as I walk further on into a large, spacious gr
een and white room, with subtly lit sculptures in their alcoves. This is the Mathura School.
Each piece has its own space, no jostling, no rubbing elbows and above all no distraction in the contemplation of each work of art. Be it the serene beauty of a Buddha’s head in red sandstone or the languid curves of a Shalabhanjika.
What is striking about this school is the robustness of the bodies, solid and vigorous. Like the triad of Tirthankara Jains sitting side by side in dhyana mudra or the Buddha with the folds of his delicately draped robe not quite hi
ding the sturdiness of the body beneath.
The next room is devoted to the Sarnath School that clearly shows the influence of the Mathura School. Again, the same impression of uncluttered space. Again, a line of Buddhas, this time in buff sandstone with half-closed eyes and serene smiles. But here already, the lines of the Buddha’s face are finer, the body more delicate, fluid and refined. We no longer see the folds of his monastic robes, what remains is a diaphanous tunic devoid of all pleats and a gentle line flowing down the arm with its hand raised in abhaya mudra. A stunning array of leogryphes is set against the far wall. And as we turn the corner, there are jewel-like photographs of the Ajanta caves glowing in a dimly-lit room.
Unfortunately, from here on, the exhibition goes steadily downwards. Not in the quality of the works exhibited but in their display.
After a wonderful experience on the ground floor, we suddenly enter a dark and rather dingy looking space with sculptures clustered cheek by jowl. Crowded and claustrophobic. The sudden impression of being in a government office almost made one look around for dusty files piled up in a corner.
An emaciated Shiva in terracotta stood next to a pair of lovers, virtually invading their space. A most sublime Krittika, with the softest most gentle of faces, was literally tucked away in a corner. And then abruptly we were out of the exhibition and into the museum shop.
As mentioned earlier, India is all the rage and nothing exemplifies it better than the spate of India-related happenings in France. Be it the three-month long “Bombaysers” extravaganza at Lille or India as the guest of honour at the recent Salon du Livre in Paris or the five-week Incredible India at the Jardin d’ Acclimatation. The leitmotif in almost all these events being, of course, Bollywood.
No tangible reminders
This is why the Gupta expo comes as a breath of fresh air, but this is soon dispelled by the museum shop. Would an exhibition on Japanese Buddhist sculptures have ‘Hello Kitty’ pocketbooks on display at the exit? Or did the Picasso exhibition in Delhi have Eiffel Tower key-chains to take back as souvenirs?
Then why do we have an exhibition on Gupta Art followed by sequin-encrusted photo frames; bead chains and shiny bangles? Not to mention cook-books and other monstrosities. Would an exhibition on say, Hopper, sell burger recipes? They are both American, after all.
Shouldn’t the things sold in conjunction with an exhibition be consistent with the exhibition itself? There weren’t many books on Indian art, architecture or aesthetics and, apart from the show catalogue, 20-odd postcards and a few token Buddha heads in plaster little resonated with the masterworks we had seen.
The art critic of “Le Monde” speaks of “admiring the serenity, grace and restraint […]” but what could we take home as tangible reminders of these sensations? Unfortunately, not much. Finally, we did a
quick turnaround and walked past the crowds milling into the boutique and headed back into the rooms.
Everyone had left and there we were, alone with these silent beings. To make the most of their beauty and the air of serenity emanating from them.
And in the end, that’s what this exhibition is all about. A window to another world. A chance to live, to feel, breathe another air.
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