An oasis on the edge of the Gobi Desert, Dunhuang was an important stopping point along the Silk Road. It became both a major commercial and Buddhist center, and epitomizes the cultural exchange between ancient China and many other countries. Whereas the Longmen Grottoes strictly feature Buddhist relief sculpture, the Mogao Caves contain some of China’s foremost mural painting. There are a total of 492 caves with roughly 45,000 sq. meters of painting. They were executed over a span of 1,000 years; the earliest dates to 366 BC in the Northern Wei Dynasty, and the latest was completed during the Yuan (1279-1368). Dunhuang was largely abandoned with the decline of the Silk Road after the Tang Dynasty (618-907), and the caves were not rediscovered until the early 20th century.
Walking past all of the gated entrances to the caves is like a treasure hunt: you can only imagine what marvels lie beyond each metal door. Upon entering, the initial impression is primarily color. As your eyes adjust from the blinding desert sun to the darkened cave, the lines and designs begin to emerge and piece together. Equipped with a small flashlight, I wound my way across each room, slowly unraveling the composition and getting lost in its dense iconography.
Although each cave is remarkable in its own respect, I was perhaps most impressed by Cave 254 from the Northern Wei Dynasty. Although it is usually closed to the public, we were able to visit it while the research team was working. The head photographer directed his six-person team as they rigged their Canon EOS-1Ds Make III camera to some makeshift sliding scaffolding, and gradually photographed the length of a given wall. The camera was directly linked to a computer, and the technician directed where to move it while manually focusing each image. The amount of detail they were able to capture, including the cracks and texture of the paint, was truly astonishing.
As I stood before a baiyifo (白衣佛), or white-clothed Buddha along the back wall, I was transfixed by his exaggerated, abstracted drapery. Each of its many folds was executed in confident, sweeping lines. Viewing it was truly an active, meditative process--in order to understand it, you must gradually, visually unravel each individual stroke.
It was at this point that I discovered three things:
Number 1: I'm a disegno
To explain, the Renaissance divided into two schools of thought: the colorati (color) and disegni (drawing). The Venetian school, such as Titian and Tintoretto, stressed light and color over line, whereas those from Florence and Milan, such as Botticelli and Leonardo Da Vinci, believed that line and drawing were not only more fundamental to painting, but also of the highest intellectual value.Since taking a seminar on master prints my senior year of college, I started to truly appreciate the use of line. In this class, my professor taught a most invaluable skill: how to look. I don’t just mean to “look,” but to really look—to actively and intently scrutinize, to take one’s time, and to approach from different perspectives. Of course, as an art major this is an obvious and crucial skill that is applicable to any of the visual arts, but it wasn’t until that class that I began to truly understand. Over a year later, when I stood mesmerized by this one painting, I realized that I'd unconsciously sided-up with the Florentines. Sorry, Rubens, it's nothing personal.
Number 2: "The Noodle Theory"
When we took a lunch break during our third day there, I kept thinking back to the Buddha's sheer drapery that I had seen in Cave 159. As I slurped my delicious hand-pulled noodles, I had an epiphany: the drapery looked just like them. The looping, intertwining noodles appeared strikingly like the intricate, dizzying Tang Dynasty drapery on the miscellaneous Buddhas and flying asparas. So now, I have a potential dissertation topic: "Oodles of Noodles: The interdependent relationship between the development of noodles and painted drapery in the Mogao Caves."
(Just kidding. But still, it could be fun.)
Number 3: The creative impulse
As I stood before each painting, examining its carefully executed brushwork, I wanted nothing more than to sketch. If only my hand could transfer these lines onto the page! If only I could imitate those curves that swirl before my eyes, and stay with me even now. It’s no wonder that modern Chinese artist Zhang Daqian was so moved by these frescoes—who wouldn’t feel the need to absorb and express their beauty? I felt such longing—all I could do was stand there and ache for something that I never even realized I was missing.
Over the course of our four day long stay, we met a lot of people and learned some of their stories. "People come here with the intention of staying a little while," explained one of our effervescent, photographer hosts. "Then they think 'oh, there's so much, I can just stay a bit longer.' And then they stay for ten, twenty, thirty years--maybe even a lifetime. Dunhuang sucks people in like that. I've been here ten years already. Many of my classmates from the Film Academy are off making big movies, but you know what, I don't think that's for me. I've found happiness here, and I think that's ultimately what I want in life. I think it's enough."
I was truly, deeply touched. These caves have been inspiring people from different cultures and countries for over a thousand years. To find people that have truly found love, joy, and meaning in their work is inspiring. May we all be so lucky.
Although there's no photography allowed in the caves (and thank goodness, otherwise tourists' inconsiderate flashes would only accelerate the degeneration process), I'll include a few from outside the site and of our camel-ride (yes, camel ride!) across the Mingsha sand dunes.
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| View of Stupa and Sanwei Mountain Range by the Mogao Caves |
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| View of Northern Mogao Caves |
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| Construction workers at the caves |
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| Mingsha Sand Dunes |
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| Camel ride across the dunes |
wow. you keep getting awesomer and awesomer. :)
ReplyDeleteWho would have guessed that we would both ride camels through the desert this year?? Also, I'm quite eager to read your "Oodles of Noodles" dissertation, brilliant idea, just brilliant!
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