The summer of 2002 marked the fourth year of a five-year program to conserve
and protect the Thubchen and Champa monasteries, artistic and religious
centerpieces of the formerly forbidden kingdom of Mustang. For generations,
these exquisite 15th-century Buddhist chapels or lhakhangs (literally
"houses for divinities"), situated in Lo Monthang near Nepal's border with
Tibet, have gone neglected, though the dry environment and the kingdom's very
inaccessibility have provided some level of protection.
Circumstances are changing, however. Relatively recent environmental damage has
threatened these monuments' 24-foot-high wall paintings, and the integrity of
the structures themselves had been at risk. Without careful intervention, these
monuments and their precious Tibetan Buddhist masterpieces would have been lost
forever, a tragedy arguably akin to losing Michelangelo's frescoes in the
Sistine Chapel.
A team of conservation experts—several Italians and a Guatemalan led by
Englishman John Sanday—are now facing an enormous challenge. Centuries of
soot and dust have obscured the serene faces of these images. More
distressingly, over the past three decades, two of Thubchen monastery's soaring
walls have suffered catastrophic "washdowns" as bursts of snowmelt, restrained
by ice dams that formed on the roof, have drained into the building, scouring
gullies and depositing streaks of mud across several wall paintings.
That's not all. Rising damp, a product of poor drainage outside the walls,
infiltration, and stagnating water inside, had caused erosion from the floor
up. Ground level outside many of the walls was found to rest well above the
floor level of the prayer hall, partly as a result of accumulated debris from
the collapse long ago (likely due to earthquake) of what might have been an
upper story or clerestory.
The conservators found sections of some paintings hanging like
curtains.
Capillary action has drawn water from the wetter exterior of the structure
toward the drier inside, saturating the earthen walls and their layers of clay.
This moisture, along with soluble salts that recrystallize and expand as they
dry, has collected behind the relatively impermeable paint layers and pushed
against the painted surface from the inside out. The result: scaling and
flaking of the preparatory paint layers, or renders, and in some cases their detachment from
the walls altogether. Indeed, the conservators found sections of some paintings
hanging like curtains.
The immediate objective of the ongoing conservation work has been to replace
the ailing roofs and superstructure of these large chapels and to restore the
underpinning—and brilliance—of the wall paintings. To do that, the
conservators and their local trainees had to first stabilize the building and
then rebuild the wall surfaces' traditional foundation layers of clay.
Made of mud, strong of stone
The original walls of Thubchen and Champa lhakhangs were made of rammed mud
mortar (gyang in Tibetan), which workers tamped into wooden frames in a
process similar to the laying of cement foundations, though the mud mortar is
of thicker consistency and the work far more labor-intensive. Instead of
massive foundation frames reaching the full height of the walls, medieval Lobas—as the people of Mustang are known—used sectional wood frames of about
five feet in height, lifting and placing them atop successive layers as they
dried.
The clay used for these walls (shi sa) was crude, containing wood
fragments, pebbles, and other foreign material. The walls are stronger than one
might expect given the nature of these materials, which gain part of their
strength from their sheer mass. (In some cases they are more than three feet
thick at the base.) Some later walls were constructed of large, sun-baked adobe
bricks bonded by a finer clay mortar.
Sanday's conservators did not intend to restore areas where painted images had
flaked or eroded away, but in some cases they needed to rebuild and prepare
sections of walls for painting or line drawing. The Raja, or King, of Mustang
and the townspeople of Lo Monthang stressed that they wanted to worship entire,
not incomplete divinities. It was agreed that, in order to meet international
restoration standards while accommodating the wishes of the local people, some
of the lost areas would be plastered and painted, to form linkages and
continuity across small gaps. More expansive lost areas, often the lower
portions, were completed only as line drawings without color fill, however, in
order to restore the functional integrity of the paintings without attempting a
"restoration."
Layer by layer
The techniques and materials the conservators now employ are virtually
identical to those used over 500 years ago. (Thubchen was completed in 1472,
Champa in 1448.) To begin flattening the surface of the wall, workers—relying on experience rather than precise measurements—mixed a blend of
chopped straw, slightly sieved shi sa clay, and a slurry of cow dung (primarily
as a binder). They then flung handfuls of this admixture onto the wall and
worked it in with a smearing motion. When it had partially dried, they applied
two or three additional, generally thinner, layers.
Even after all this work, the preparation of the wall had scarcely begun. In a
report following the first year of restoration, chief conservator Rodolfo Lujan
described the extraordinarily diverse ingredients needed to fashion the
paintable surface:
"The next (second) layer is composed of river sand and small pebbles mixed with
a yellowish clay (pimbo) found at the west of Lo Monthang. The third
layer consists of very fine sand (chema) mixed with pimbo and a
greenish-brown clay known as shi pi pema, which comes from Jag Dha
Mountain, north of Lo Monthang. A fourth layer is composed of shi pi pema and
ghi sa, a light beige clay from Ahma Loun Mountain, southeast of the
city. The final priming layer, on which artisans applied the preparatory
drawing (in black paint) and the paint layers, consists of a mixture of
khsa (an extremely fine white clay) with animal glue (ping) and
local chang or beer. After drying, this was carefully polished."
Only after this multilayered surface was ready did the anonymous masters of
medieval Mustang begin painting.
Renaissance artists in Europe sometimes relied on a technique, known
as secco, that is roughly analagous to the Tibetan one.
Interestingly, when creating their own wall paintings, Renaissance artists in
Europe sometimes relied on a technique, known as secco, that is roughly
analagous to the above-described Tibetan one. Secco paintings, among them
Leonardo's Last Supper, were painted onto a dry, polished, lime-based
render (made from inorganic binders such as lime, mud, and gypsum) and a
primer. Frescoes, on the other hand, including Michelangelo's in the Sistine
Chapel, were painted onto moist ("fresh") lime-based render.
Origin of the pigments
The deep blues and greens as well as the paler shades of these colors come
largely from azurite and malachite, basic carbonates of copper that generally
occur together and sometimes blend within the same rock. Tibetan painting
scholars David and Janice Jackson report that these minerals were largely mined
in Nyemothang, in central Tibet. They were crushed into a sand, wrapped in
small leather bags, and sold to painters by the Tibetan government.
The painters in turn prepared their azurite and malachite in a lengthy
scrubbing and rinsing process, before grinding it in water. They did not have
to do much grinding to obtain the much-desired rich blues and greens. Finer
grinding resulted in paler shades, however, meaning that the artists could
obtain full ranges of value by separating the particles on the basis of their
size. In some cases, blue and sometimes green was mixed with varnish, making it
brighter and more translucent.
The mineral cinnabar—or native mercury sulfide, the ore from which mercury
is produced—was the source of the deep vermilion color, and it came mainly
from Hunan province in China. Over 1,800 years ago, Chinese alchemists learned
to separate and recombine the mercury and the sulfur, forming vermilion, which
when powdered produced the desired deep red crystals. This was traded widely
throughout Asia, and some of the cinnabar and vermilion used in Mustang and
Tibet likely came from China by way of India. Many of the flower details in
Thubchen's paintings were refinished in careful brushstrokes of red lac, a kind
of natural shellac.
The Jacksons found that black and the inks used for writing and woodblock
prints were carbon-based, generally soot or charcoal, while white came from
chalk (calcium carbonate), lime (calcium oxide), or bone and bone ash. Orpiment
yellow, which in the case of Mustang may have come largely from hot springs in
eastern Tibet, is a trisulfide of arsenic, while the less intense yellow ochre,
used primarily as an undercoat for gold, is a variety of the mineral
limonite.
Using the hues
When commissioning a painting, patrons of religious art would generally budget
for gold separately from the rest of the painting. Much of the gold was
obtained, as it continues to be today, from Newar merchants in Lhasa, Tibet's
capital. (The Newar ethnic group, renowned for its exquisite craftsmen,
constitutes the original inhabitants of the Kathmandu valley; some Newar
merchants settled in Tibet, where many intermarried with Tibetans.)
In Thubchen, the paintings were gilded with gold powder spread on with a brush
and pen nib, especially for the flesh of the Buddha. Gold leaf, however, was
used to highlight the raised areas, which were created a pastiglia for
the deities' jewelry and other ornamentation. In addition to gold's intense,
reflective luster and its tendency to remain untarnished, artists found it easy
to work with.
Each color also contains inherent symbolism, which is especially meaningful in
the creation of tantric mandalas, the circular representations of the universe
done in paint or sand:
Blue/black = wrath, pollution
Red = love, attachment, power
Yellow = ascendance, riches
White = peace, purity
Perhaps surprisingly, many of the minerals from which pigments are derived had
medicinal value in the Tibetan system of ayurvedic medicine.
Despite the existence of modern materials and techniques that might be suitable
for rebuilding and restoring ancient Tibetan monuments, there are several
reasons why conservators study and use methods that were employed centuries
ago. First, the original materials are locally available, often from their
original sources; artists can collect clays and soils from the same sites their
forbears gathered them from over half a millenium ago. Second, the early
methods are not necessarily inferior to their modern substitutes, as evidenced
by their longevity. Finally, some of the traditional wall-building, plastering,
and painting techniques, which have been perfected over countless generations,
are still in use today. So local artisans can be employed with some confidence
in the resulting quality, though the relearning curve has been steep.
Eleventh-hour aid
These conservation efforts—funded by the American Himalayan Foundation and
overseen by Nepal's King Mahendra Trust for Nature Conservation and the
Annapurna Conservation Area Project—are occurring none too soon. Ever since
Nepalese authorities opened Mustang to tourism in 1992, Lobas have been
emigrating in increasing numbers to Kathmandu and the cities of south Asia in
search of their fortunes. Even those who are religiously inclined now seek
higher Buddhist instruction in Kathmandu and India. They are leaving behind
something of a cultural and economic vacuum.
Lobas now compete for the chance to become conservation
trainees.
In Lo Monthang, when Sanday and Lujan originally proposed hiring local people
to assist them in the conservation and cleaning work, they were met with
skepticism and apathy, despite the Raja's endorsement of their efforts. But the
magic of time and dedication and a few modern techniques have brought renewed
glory to Thubchen monastery, and with it the attention, respect, and revived
faith of the town's citizens. Women's groups now use the Thubchen chapel for
their meetings, townspeople proudly escort tourists through the building, and
even the abbot of the town's newer monastery is keen to rededicate Thubchen as
an active religious center.
Most impressively, local Lobas now compete for the chance to become
conservation trainees, and nearly as many women as men have joined the ranks.
Indeed, the most rewarding result of this conservation project may be the
trained and motivated residents. They now have many of the skills needed to
begin replicating this work elsewhere in Mustang and across the southern slopes
of the Nepal Himalaya, the native architecture of which has been neglected for
decades and in some cases centuries. A revitalization of indigenous
traditions, religious belief, and community pride has been an unexpected side
effect of this heart-warming project on the roof of the world.
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In a recently restored painting inside
Thubchen monastery, Shakyamuni Buddha gazes down on visitors, his face a picture
of wisdom, serenity, and compassion.
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The "washdown" streaking the right side of
this painting is repairable. Sadly, the portions at the bottom lost to rising
damp are not.
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Lobas work to repair the roof of Thubchen
monastery in the summer of 2001.
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To create a new painting surface, two Lobas mix straw,
clay, and moistened cow dung while their companions smear this formula onto a
wall in Lo Monthang.
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An array of prepared colors before him, an artist uses a
mortar and pestle to grind mineral into yellow pigment.
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This artist is using gold pigment, made from gold
brought south out of Tibet, to enhance the raised surfaces in his painting.
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As this photograph shot within Thubchen's soaring
chapel reveals, the conservation team arrived just in time. A few more
years of neglect, and these masterpieces of medieval Tibetan art might have
vanished.
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