The above is part of a general description on the inside of
the dust cover of ‘Ridi Vihare: the
flowering of Kandyan Art’ by SinhaRaja Tammita-Delgoda, a narrative
decorated by photographs from Studio Times, illustrations by Saroja Dharmadasa,
and plans and drawings by Ineke Pitts and Kapila Ariyanada.
It is apt, considering the moment of narration, the first
years of the 21st Century, that the author has framed this history
with an observation by Ananda Coomaraswamy:
In the words of
Blake,
When nations grow
old,
The Arts grow cold,
And commerce
settles on every tree.
In such a grim
fashion has commerce settled in the East.
Indeed, we live in times when commerce has captured tradition
and much else besides, what with organ-trade and the trading of polluting-rights. It has come to a point where all nations, old
and new, have commerce-laden trees. It
took time with us, but we’ve learned fast, it seems. The intrinsic worth of anything, be it
artifact of pageant, exorcism or ritual, giving (dana) or devotion, has given way to commercial potential. King Market rules, decides and
dispenses.
And so, we name and attach price-tag, forgetting often
that certain things resist valuation and categorization. Therefore we find that value-attachment is
reduced to the quantifiable and the play of demand and supply. It is in this context that one has is
stopped-in-track by the amazing disclaimer: ‘No one who has worked on this book
has asked for or received payment of any kind; all royalties have been donated
by the author to the Ridi Vihara’.
That’s giving. Truly.
As great a gift is the book itself. It is a scholarly study of a kind one does
not associate with the dust, foreboding, pedantic and exclusive typical of
history books. Sure, throw in a lot of
pictures and you get enough color to drive out the dismal and turn out a
page-turner. These are often better
‘histories’ than some texts which do not reach scholarly benchmarks in terms of
standards and sweep but still see
mediocrity getting doctorate and professorship, one must acknowledge. They also tend to be less ideology-burdened
than much of the ‘history’ that is churned out by quacks masquerading as
historians. Even if all this weren’t true,
as far as the ordinary (i.e. non-academic) reader is concerned, they are far
more readable narratives.
‘Ridi Vihare’ is not a collection of pictures with
captions empowered by exceptional talent at turning a phrase, though. Here the illustrations and photographs
enhance rather than gloss over text, excuse poor scholarship or boost
marketability, which is common in picture-history books. It is not just because the subject is both
history in general as well as the appreciation of art-evolution, which
naturally make illustration-insertion sensible.
Tammita-Delgoda’s exercise is more wholesome and appreciative of a range
of influencing strands that saw the Ridi Vihare move from what it was to what
it is.
It is the historian in him that locates Ridi Vihare in
historical context, across the centuries, as well as in the fascinating
narrative of temple art, in particular the rock and cave wall painting that our
ancients have so generously endowed over the centuries. It is the embeddedness of an author in his
society and as part product of transformations over time that gives body to the
narrative. Such conscious ‘affinity’
would scar objective gaze over the subject, one might argue, but then again it
is also true that the neutral gazer is inescapably bound by his/her own
locations and histories. There is always
indulgence even though the indulgent might protest innocence. What is perhaps the more sensible and all
things considered, the more scientific, approach would be to resist both grip
and discard, and seek ‘caress’ in the appreciation of what is before the
scholar’s gaze. That would be a kind of Buddhist
Historiography or let’s say ‘Buddhistic’ historiography. ‘Ridi Vihare’ has that tender,
touching-but-not-touching touch in narrative.
Tammita-Delgoda offers a careful and exhaustive study of
the ‘Ridi Vihare’ complex, i.e. the several caves as well as the structures
built on two rocky hills, in the village of Ridigama in the Kurunegala
District. The work introduces to us a
comparatively poorly studied temple (of the hundreds of temples that warrant
study, one might add) with an excellent foreword about Kandyan art and
scholarship related to it.
The archival research has clearly been exhaustive. The author must have spent countless hours
pouring over all chronicles to seek out references and use these to trace the
relevant history. He tells us multiple
stories, some of the folk tradition included by the Mahawamsa chronicler (who
appears to have understood the legitimacy of folk narratives long before
Gayatri Spivak and others coined the term ‘Subaltern Studies’) as well as the
hard-evidence stories. He gives name and
date, details that are so important to those who believe history is a pure
science and for others who, even though they are not as fixated, nevertheless
like to know who did what and where.
So we are taken from the 2nd Century through
the many upheavals after the European invaders set foot here to the time of the
Kandyan kings. Woven in is the long and
complex conflict between the Theravada and Mahayana traditions of Buddhism, which
although portrayed as a bitter political duel, nevertheless demonstrated contestations
framed by an agreement to coexist and focus on ideological push and pull. The tenuous relations between king and
Buddhist Order, or Sangha, is similarly referenced to give a fuller picture on
the historical canvass.
The political ups and down naturally left traces on all
things, culture included. Temple
renovation is then a part of that story. Patronage too inscribed
signature. Tammita-Delgoda takes us
along these sub-plots, interjecting tastefully and appropriately the relevant
ideological and philosophical underpinnings.
‘Ridi Vihare’ then, is not just a description of some
monastic or religious complex, but a window on the political changes that took
place, changes which are one way or another marked on the narrative of the
site.
From here he proceeds to dissect. The chapter, appropriately titled ‘Anatomy of
a Temple’, is largely descriptive. The
attention to detail is noteworthy. Each
key element of the complex has been subject to a thorough examination and full
documentation. It show not just an
enumerators fascination but an art students natural tendency for comparison and
contrast.
Paintings have warranted separate explication, and
fittingly too, considering their historical and artistic worth. Tammita-Delgoda, in delving into this
element, tells us about that time and how the politics of that time impacted
the fascinating and yet simple paintings which reflected both period as well as
general philosophy-driven ways of the Sinhala people. He has brought in his deep understanding of
Buddhist art as well as Buddhist philosophical tenets to enrich the narration
of history.
‘Ridi Vihare’ is unique.
It is not unrelated to the other examples of exceptional Buddhist
art. This book points to the work that
needs to be done to document the undocumented, mis-documented and the
semi-documented. Tammita-Delgoda’s pains
also indicate a new way of writing history, a manner that makes it accessible
to the common reader. There are, after
all so many more ‘vihares’ some made of silver, metaphorically speaking, and
some not, but all replete with countless lines, curves and textures that help
us rediscover who we are, where we came from and perhaps show us where we ought
to go and how we can get there. That
‘pointing’, so to speak, deserves applause.
But then again, the exercise and the excavator here, by proclamation,
have said ‘thank you, no’. That’s in
line with belief system embedded in the artifacts that were examined. Makes sense.
[Published in the 'UNDO' Section of 'The Nation', September 9, 2012]
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