“The Arts of Thailand”
THE PAINTING OF Thailand is an art of great interest as well as of remarkable beauty. It is also almost completely unknown to the western world. This surprising obscurity is due to a combination of geography, climate, time, and, unintentionally, to the Thai themselves. To the western eye the most striking paintings are the murals done between the 17th century and about 1820 on monastery walls. Only two good examples of this period exist in Bangkok, but neither is mentioned in the usual guidebooks. Most tourists find the hot and humid climate extremely enervating and rarely venture very far from the routine tour. The climate, too, has destroyed all but a few isolated specimens of anything earlier than the 17th century and has ruined much of what is left of later examples. As the majority of Thai regard the paintings from a religious viewpoint rather than an aesthetic one, they do not believe a non-Buddhist would be interested, and they politely do not call them to the foreigner’s attention.
The basic purpose of the paintings, like the paintings of medieval Christian Europe, is to instruct, guide, and inspire the devout by portraying scenes of religious history. In both worlds, the artist was an anonymous monk or dedicated layman whose aim was to teach and elucidate a sacred text. In many a monastery the walls are painted with more devotion than skill, but often the painter was also blessed with a great natural talent, and then his creations are stirring by any standard.
There are several different forms of painting. The most important are the murals which may be found in one or more of the buildings which make up the wat complex. Many of these have vanished in the last few decades, but typically a hall would have its walls covered with murals from a shoulder-high dado to the dim reaches of the high ceiling. The top part of the wall facing the main Buddha image is generally painted with a representation of the unsuccessful temptation and attack by Māra, an allegory of the victory over evil. Behind the image will be scenes of Hell. The life of Buddha or Jātaka stories are pictured on the other two walls. They are often surmounted by rows of seated Buddhas or heavenly beings.
Another type of painting in the possession of a wat may be long cloth banners which are displayed on special occasions. The most usual form shows a standing figure of the Buddha flanked by two disciples or attendants. Also seen, but more rarely, are the main events of his life, such as the Great Departure, the Preaching in the Deer Park, or the Death. Not many paintings on cloth earlier than the 18th century have survived, and most are of the 19th, but the evidence of a few seems to show that in the pre-Bangkok period large panels containing several scenes from the life of Buddha were more popular than single incidents. There are also a few rare instances of such scenes painted on wood.
Probably every wat once also owned a set of scenes on cloth or kòi paper illustrating the Jātaka story of Prince Vessantara. The Buddhist countries of Southeast Asia seem to choose for frequent illustration those Jātakas among the 547 which portray the virtues, such as perseverance, austerity, or self-sacrifice, that they regard as most representative of their own national characteristics. The overwhelming favorite with the Thai is the history of Prince Vessantara, who was renowned for great selfless generosity. It is, today, one of the first stories a child learns to read.
The Thai version, which differs only in a few unimportant details from the original Pali, is usually recited in 13 chapters of verse, and the majority of the painted sets contain 13 scenes, painted by one artist. The quality of these sets differs greatly, from naive and primitive to very skillful.
Paintings on cloth or paper parallel the style and development of the mural paintings although they do not often match them in quality. Perhaps this statement is true only for the Bangkok period as the few surviving Ayudhyā examples are extremely fine.
One large cloth panel, measuring about four and a half feet by seven must date in comparison with the Bejrapurī murals as late 17th or early 18th century. The subject is the life of Buddha. The composition is an interesting pattern of irregularly placed episodes separated from each other by zigzag fences of striated lines. The drawing is as precise and delicate as in the finest murals and the color is soft and clear. Prince Siddartha is making his final departure from the palace and everyone is sound asleep, except for one grubby servant who is peering into the kitchen pots to see if anything is left for a midnight snack.
The largest number of cloth panels are those on which are portrayed the standing Buddha and two disciples. These are difficult to date as they are often traditional and mechanical repetitions and it is easy to confuse the provincial with the primitive. Few or perhaps none date earlier than the Bangkok period.
The most interesting of the panels are the Vessantarajātaka sets. Although none of this type seems to have survived the fall of Ayudhyā they must go back much earlier.
These sets figured in a popular tradition that was kept up until the early part of this century. It was a custom for the eldest son of a prominent family during some period of his monastic service to return home for a religious celebration. For his part in the ceremony he would recite the Vessantara story, using the paintings from his wat as illustrations.
Definite regional differences can be seen in these sets. No doubt there was a wat in each district which trained artists. Wat Yai in Bejrapurī was one of these and it still has a collection of the last four generations of pupils. In an article of this length one can only give a few general characteristics of the different regions. Those of the Ayudhyā district are often delicate and use a great deal of gold leaf. Rājapurī examples show the most sophisticated compositions. Bejrapurī is the most traditional and has the widest range in quality. Chieng Mai has the most freedom of interpretation and the appeal of good folk art. The few examples from Nagara Sri Dharmarāja in the far south show an odd light color tonality on an almost white background.
Manuscript illustrations represent an important category of painting. The long, narrow, palm leaf books, like the Indian ones, have had a continual use in Thailand, but are rarely illustrated. The usual illustrated manuscript, called a samut dhātu is of kòi paper in one continuous sheet folded like an accordion. It is read across the length of the page. Those of pre-Bangkok date usually have a large illustration in the middle of the page, sometimes covering the double unfolded section. Those of later date generally have one or two smaller illustrations on the ends of the page with the text between them.
Murals, paintings on cloth, and manuscripts represent the largest part and the most important aspects of Thai painting. The other examples play a subsidiary role although to class them merely as “decorative” is rather arbitrary. This is especially true of the guardian figures generally painted on the inner side of the doors and window shutters of monastery buildings. Usually not painted by the muralist, they are often stock types, but they are usually graceful and benign figures, quite unlike their fierce Chinese and Japanese comrades-in-arms who guard the Buddhist world from harm. In a few wat buildings, the window shutters have still lifes of offerings, flowers, bowls of fruit or rice. These are done in quite a different style from the murals; in fact, with their strong patterns and flat color they seem to foreshadow modern western art. According to the monks, they were painted by Chinese artists who were also employed for decorative bits on columns or beams.
Designs in gold leaf on black lacquer, found particularly on large wooden bookcases, chests and on screens are still another type of pictorial art worthy of notice.* The usual subjects of the life of Buddha or Jātaka scenes may be illustrated, but legendary themes or designs of plants or animals are even more likely to appear. One of the most effective uses of this technique in architectural decoration occurs in an early 18th century monastery library, now restored in the grounds of Suan Pakkad Palace in Bangkok. With its numerous panels depicting, in the upper registers, the principal events in the life of the Buddha, and in the lower registers, scenes from the Rāmakirti, this unique jewel-like structure represents the high point of graphic art of the Ayudhyā period. It is also an invaluable document of the life of the Kingdom of Ayudhyā at the moment of its greatest prosperity.
The covered galleries in the courtyard of the Chapel Royal (the so-called Temple of the Emerald Buddha) in Bangkok contain on their walls a long series of frescoes devoted to the Rāmakirti, which is the Thai version of the Rāmāyaṇa. The nationalization of the great Hindu epic affords opportunities for the depiction of scenes of Thai history as well as of the mythological subject. In the north, particularly in Chieng Mai, there was also a tendency towards the realistic and even earthy representation of everyday scenes, especially with regard to the common folk, as distinguished from the formal style used for royal or divine activities.
The style of Thai painting has the basic elements of all Asian painting. There is no western perspective which uses a fixed view and a vanishing point on the horizon. Here, the spectator is allowed to rove through the painting. He may look down into a courtyard, or stand directly before an audience hall, and perhaps both at the same time if the illusion of distance is achieved by the relative placement of the figures and objects and by overlapping.
The composition is a combination of mass and line. The figures are drawn with an even, flowing contour, then filled in with flat color and the detail and ornament applied. This is identical with the Indian and early Islamic technique. Buildings, furniture, chariots, and other elements are done in the same way, but the background is a generalized landscape. Here and there a group of rocks or a clump of flowers shows Chinese influence in the style. The artist has probably copied and adapted these bits from porcelain or decorative screens. He does not consider landscape as important in itself; it is only the necessary incidental setting for the action. In some cases the contrast between an uninspired or crude background and the sensitive, intricate figures leads one to believe that the former was done by pupils or lesser artists.
In the narrative murals there is a type of continuous action, although the scenes do not merge into each other. The important episodes are separated in the early examples by an arbitrary zig-zag line, and usually by more naturalistic means such as a row of trees, a wall, or a screen in the later periods.
The technique of the paintings has a few unusual points. For murals, the wall is prepared by washing it several times with water in which kî-lek leaves (Cassia siamea leguminosaea) have been pounded. This is supposed to remove any traces of salt. Then a coating of plaster, white chalk mixed with a binder of tamarind seeds which have been baked, ground and boiled, is applied and carefully smoothed. Cloth and paper are sized with a thin application of the same mixture. It adheres quite well to cotton, but unfortunately flakes off silk and becomes powdery on paper.
The paints are mineral and earth pigments like malachite and cinnabar; from the beginning of the 18th century, at least, they have been imported from China in powder form. The duller and more limited colors of the earliest paintings are probably local pigments as is the red ochre always used for a preliminary outline. The binder used with the paints is a tree gum, ma-kwit (Feronia elephantum rutaceae). Another gum, ma-düa (Ficus hispida urticaceae), is used as a glue for the gold leaf. The paint is applied to the dry plaster; thus it is not a true fresco technique.
Brushes are made of tree roots and bark and are often set into elaborate silver handles. The brush of lam-jiek root (Pandanus tectorius) is cut flat across the end and then split several times. This produces a stippling effect which is used for trees and shrubbery masses. Another brush is made of gradang-ngâ (Canagium odoratum) bark which peels off in long flakes. The ends of this are pounded and frayed. Both brushes are well soaked in water to make them pliable before using. Details are added with brushes made of cow’s hair, and exceptionally fine work may be done with a special brush made of hair taken from the inner part of a cow’s ear.
Much of the distinctive appearance of Thai painting is due to those wooden brushes. They give an even, wire-like line, often of amazing sinuosity, and quite unlike the modeling line of the flexible Chinese brush.
It is unfortunate that Thailand adopted a type of dry fresco which is much too perishable in a humid climate. Only a few examples remain which can be safely dated before the 17th century, yet historical references and archeology give evidence that painting must have existed much earlier.
Dvāravatī, the kingdom of the Mòn in central Thailand, undoubtedly had connections with India of the Gupta period (see page 40). It is reasonable to expect that an Indian tradition of painting, such as may be seen at Ajanta in India or Sigirīya in Ceylon, would also be implanted in Thailand, but we have only a few bits of rather crudely incised stone to show the relationship. The Dvāravatī paintings were probably similar to those done by their cousins, the western Mòn of Burma, at Pagán around the 12th century.
There is no trace of any painting surviving from the Lopburî period. In the 14th century we are on the trail of actual painting. Set into the ceiling of a narrow stairway at Wat Sî Chum, Sukhodaya, are several stone slabs incised with Jātaka scenes and identifying inscriptions in the Sukhodaya script. The linear style of the illustrations and the detailed representation of jewelry and ornament are certainly derived from manuscript painting, but it is difficult to trace the original source.
A building at the “Seven Rows of Reminders,” Svargaloka, has a few faded fragments of murals of the Sukhodaya period still clinging to its walls, but the first fairly well preserved painting is found at Wat Rajapūraṇa in Ayudhyā, founded in 1424. The paintings are in a crypt which remained sealed from the date of its construction until recently.
The paintings are of two types: there are hieratic rows of seated Buddhas and standing disciples, and illustrations from Jātaka stories. An interesting note is the ceiling decoration of a large circular medallion formed with concentric bands and floral zones, and surrounded with small gilt circles. A similar medallion is found on an Ajanta ceiling. There is also a frieze of heavenly beings closely related to the style of the Sukhodaya stone engravings. On two walls of this crypt are Chinese scenes too fragmentary for positive identification but unmistakably Chinese in content and execution. In spite of long contact with China and a rather large Chinese population, very little Chinese influence shows on Thai painting, and there are only rare examples of actual Chinese work.
Manuscripts of the Ayudhyā period provide important help in dating paintings besides being interesting in their own right. One of the most treasured manuscripts in the National Museum collection is a Traibhūmi, a mid-sixteenth century copy of a 14th century treatise on Buddhist cosmology. It is an unusually large one, unfolding to a length of about five feet. The illustrations include ten of the Jātakas and the thirteen chapters of the Vessantara story.
While not technically of the finest quality, this manuscript is an important document to show the continuity and slow development of Thai painting. For example, the figures of gods and goddesses in the Himavanta forest go back in stylistic conception through the Sukhodaya stone engravings to the Ajanta type, and as they go forward from the 16th century to the 19th century painting they suffer only minor changes in their coiffure and costume and grow a little more lissom.
Also present in the manuscript are the stylized landscape forms and the groups of neatly detailed plants and flowers which seem to be derived from Chinese porcelain. The floral ornament was present earlier, but not in as naturalistic a style.
The paintings in Wat Yai, Bejrapurī, considered from historical evidence to have been done around 1650, show rows of seated and praying heavenly beings, including Indra and Brahmā. The figures are not small in scale, each row measuring over two feet in height, but the technique is delicate and miniaturistic and the ornament is detailed. Each figure is given a certain measure of isolation and importance by having its head and shoulders framed in a tent-shaped space. The edges of the tent are marked with vertical striations with a curious hook at the top of each line. The general effect is of a flowered and fringed baldachin with triangular apertures hanging over the figures. That may indeed have been the original source of the motif. These striations are mentioned because they are an element in the dating of other paintings. They occur again in the murals of Wat Go in Bejrapurī, finished in 1714. Here the usage is similar, but in other 18th century work the hooked striations are used like a picket fence to separate one scene from another.
From the fall of Ayudhyā to the middle of the 19th century the paintings grow in richness of color heightened by a lavish use of gold leaf, and in complexity of composition. The figures are extremely graceful. The heavenly or earthly palaces with their glittering, soaring spires and their multicolored and many-layered roofs have the splendor of fantasy although they have substantial and only slightly more prosaic counterparts in the wats of Bangkok. Richly dressed processions of men and elephants wind through the hills to bring Prince Vessantara back from exile. Crows gather to listen to the teaching of the Buddha. Armies of the Buddhist world, including clearly depicted Indians, Chinese, and Japanese, fight for his relics after his death, and are defeated by a Portuguese honor guard. The Buddhaiśvarya Chapel in the National Museum Compound, Bangkok, Wat Tushita and Wat Suvarṇārāma in Tonburî, and Wat Sudarśana (“Wat Sutat”) in Bangkok have the finest examples of this rich and colorful style.
The painting of Northern Thailand is strongly Burmese in style. There is nothing that predates the 19th century. The drawing of the northern murals is somewhat less sensitive and graceful and the color is much colder in tone. The effect is dry, crisp and much less luxurious than that of the Bangkok school.
Wat Pra Sing, in Chieng Mai (early 19th century), is perhaps the most important of these northern wats. One of the walls is painted with the story of Pra Sâng Tòng, a fairy story prince who was born in a golden conch shell. This is one of the “Fifty Stories” that are often represented in place of the authentic Jātakas in this area. In the Wat Pra Sing mural, the royal personages are clothed in traditional Thai costume, the traditional one which survives today in the dance. The courtiers and the common people are dressed in contemporary Burmese style. There is a great deal of factual reporting and earthy humor: a man flirts with a group of girls and on the roof above his head one cat stalks another. Other paintings, rich in scenes of local life, are found at Wat Bhūmindra in Nân, east of Chieng Mai, and in Payao.
In Thailand painting, like sculpture, architecture and the dance, was in the service of religion from its earliest days, and still is to a large extent. Thailand enriched the simple ritual of Buddhism by borrowing themes from the Hindus and Brahmins as well as certain rites concerning artists. The painter dedicated his life to his craft, and thereby to the service of the Buddha. He went through an ordination, part of which is similar to the ordination of a monk, being dressed in white and presenting traditional objects of sacrifice.
The villagers have also accepted the Indian traditions regarding the painter’s attitude towards his art. They say that the painter must not take his craft lightly, that he must pay respect to his teacher, that he must go through the proper ceremonies and explain to the spirits that when he paints the life of Buddha it is an act of devotion and not the usurping of creation or the imitation of holy events. They also say that a painter will usually paint only one set of pictures and that he will leave one section unfinished because when he adds the last stroke his life’s work will be done and he will die. The truth of this is hard to check, but it explains such puzzling conventions as a broken roof line or a missing column, in so many of the Vessantara sets.
Traditional Thai painting began to die out in Bangkok in the middle of the 19th century. Western oil paints were introduced and the artist found a new interest in Western shading and perspective and occasionally in Western scenes. The result was something akin to chinoiserie, often pleasing and decorative; but this is essentially a hybrid growth.
The Śilpākara (Fine Arts) School in Bangkok has trained some painters in the old techniques and they have preserved in copies some of the vanishing murals. Traditional painting, however, actually survives only in a few villages. The young artist in the cities has joined the modern, international, art movement and is finding new ways to express his long and rich heritage.
156. Illustration in a manuscript on massage. Paper; total length of manuscript when unfolded, 6.44 m.; width, 35 cm. (Cat. no. 262.)
157. Illustration in a manuscript on cats and birds. Paper; total length of manuscript when unfolded, 9.20 m.; width, 36 cm. (Cat. no. 263.)
161. Scene from the Vessantarajātaka. Mural painting in the Golden Monastery (Suvarnārāma), Tonburi.
162. Monastery scene. Mural painted about 1860 by command of King Mongkut. Great Relic Monastery, Bangkok.
163. Manuscript cabinet. Lacquered wood with paintings. Rear view shown here. Ht. 176 cm. (Cat. no. 241.)
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* Lacquer design which reached its zenith in the 18th century in Ayudhyā has a technique which requires thorough experience. It consists in applying on the wooden panel three coats of black lacquer (the juice of a plant growing in the north of Thailand); afterwards the surface is smoothed and over it a drawing is traced. All parts which have to remain black are painted with a gummy yellow paint and once this is dry a very thin coat of lacquer is painted all over the panel; while this lacquer is still not quite dry, gold leaf is applied all over the surface. After twenty hours the work is washed with water which carries away the gold leaf adhering to the gummy paint. The design appears as neat as ink-drawing. This kind of technique is termed lâi rot nám, which means ornament emerging by washing the work with water.
There is a great similarity in the composition of regular paintings and of lacquer painting. The difference between the two arts is that in painting the artist may leave large spaces without detailed figures such as mountains, water or sky, while the design for lacquer must fill up all the spaces with evenly distributed masses; if the dark and light values are not well distributed the result is disharmonious.
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