Maurya and Shunga Art c12: IX. Formal Qualities of Śuṅga Art
Maurya and Śuṅga Art c12
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IX. Formal Qualities of Śuṅga Art
c12.2
The pre-Aryan tribal and primitive elements in early Buddhism are but too well-known. Equally well-known is the fact that these elements were woven into the texture of a doctrinal scheme that is admittedly Aryan in origin and character. Is it unlikely that a similar process was at work in the realm of early Indian art which happens to be Buddhist in religious affiliation? This and other questions in respect of Śunga art and aesthetic ideology can be answered only by a detailed analysis of the character of form of the art of Barhut and Bodhgaya. The formal qualities of this art may therefore be taken up one by one.
c12.3
We have seen that with the artists of the Maurya court the third dimension was not a problem they had ever to grapple with; indeed they had a ready made solution of the problem at their disposal which they applied in the context of form they had to deal with. Under ordinary circumstances one would have expected this solution enter into the heritage of Śuṅga art. Quite contrary is however the case. The ground balustrade of Stūpa no. 2 of Sanchi which must be considered as representing the earliest phase of this art is wholly covered with animals, symbols and human figures held by flowing and luxuriant stalks of lotus, all worked in very low and flat reliefs, so low and flat that these reliefs may be said to be just essays in linear composition. The Barhut repository of art consists of reliefs on railings and gateways narrating the stories of the ‘dūrenidāna’ and ‘avidūrenidāna’ cycles of life of the Buddha, in square, rectangle, round or half-round panels or frames. These reliefs are invariably low and flat and are portrayed more as silhouettes sharply detached from their backgrounds. There is but slight attempt at modelling by grading the different planes of the relief in distinctive layers and then rounding off their contours, but the appearance of a flattened surface is there, always and invariably. Forms are conceived and presented not in terms of depth but in those of surface, and what optically should have been presented as hidden or partly covered is shown in part or in entirety. In other words, every thing is translated from the dimension of depth to that of surface. Nor are the figures shown in such sizes and proportions as may optically be suggested by their nearness or distance. On the contrary, they are big or small according to their meaning in the story depicted, i.e. according to their comprehensibility or reality, not in accordance with the optical impression. Objects are shown to the onlooker not by inference or suggestion, i.e. by showing one surface only in entirety and by suggesting the others hidden partly or wholly into the depth; they are rather made visible in entirety by tilting into the relief the other surfaces on the top and at the sides. These devices make the framed reliefs of Barhut look like flat table tops served with objects in full visibility. Singly taken the objects themselves often reveal a three dimensional vision and treatment especially where oversecting and fore-shortening are frankly resorted to. But nowhere is there any attempt to achieve any illusion of depth, for the direction is always towards the surface. Besides such reliefs, there are independent large-size human figures of Yakshas and Yakshiṇīs etc. in high and bold relief and occupying prominent positions on unframed railing posts. The flat posts merely serve as supports; indeed the figures but cling to them. These figures unlike those of the reliefs are round modelled shapes either in rigid parallelism and frontality as we see in the figure of Sirima Devatā or in variegated ‘bhaṅgas’ and ample turns and bends in movements as one sees in the figure of Sudarśanā Yakshiṇī. In the former case the treatment is compact and conglomerated while in the latter it has a swaying grace and a flowing plastic consistency; but in both cases there is the unmistakable evidence of an attempt to relate the three dimensional extensiveness to the flatness of the surface. The attitude is clearly of a compromise between the full three dimensional extension and the flat surface which is equally noticeable in the relation of the full round shape of the figure and the flat post. Thus, whether in reliefs or in large-size independent figures there is in Barhut evidence of a conflict and a resultant comprise through various devices, between two dimensional flat surface on the one hand and three dimensional vision on the other.
c12.4
I am inclined to think that from the very silhouette-like low and flat reliefs of the ground balustrade of Stūpa no. 2 of Sanchi to the attempt in the reliefs and the large-size human figures of Barhut, there is a frank attempt at progressive realisation of what had originally been a two dimensional form in ‘caraṇa-chitras’ or scroll-paintings in terms of relief on such permanent material as stone. Early Indian art as exhibited on the balustrade of Sanchi Stūpa no. 2 and on the rails and posts of Barhut may in the light of this assumption be said to be a quest for the third dimension, and these reliefs but exemplify the devices the artists adopted for the purpose. Any one with a comprehension of Indian ‘paṭa-chitra’ tradition of primitive folk-painting in flat surfaces would be able to realise how difficult the quest had been. This explains, in my view, much of the shyness, the modesty and the hesitancy that one notices in these reliefs; it also shows the conflict that is unmistakable in them between flat surface on the one hand and the three dimensional extension on the other, as well as the resultant compromise. The early Indian artists of Barhut ignored the Maurya solution of the problem; indeed they had nothing to do with the Maurya tradition and wanted to solve the problem in their own way and according to their own tradition. The device they adopted for the purpose fully confirms my assumption. For instance, when they show in entirety figures or objects that ought optically to have been presented hidden or partly covered or when they present an object in small or large proportions not as they optically appear to us but in accordance with the meaning of the relation into which they enter with other figure of the story, or when they tilt the relief to show objects in entirety, or extend the volume of an object or its part not into depth but on the surface, they follow essentially the methods of primitive folk tradition of India that has come down to our present day in the shape and from of ‘paṭa-chitras’.
c12.5.1
In the art of the Śuṅgas, the human form which is conspicuous by its absence in the hitherto known examples of Mauryan art plays an important role; but it is accepted and treated merely as one of the many components of nature, not as the main pivot as in later Indian sculpture. Here he is completely at one with trees, creepers, animals and hundred and one other objects of nature. The method of narrating the stories is the simplest, the most direct, and the language most unaffected. Indeed, men and women of Barhut have almost a primitive and tribal simplicity. Since they are fully co-ordinated with and apprehended as part of nature itself they have no special emphasis or accent and are in no way different from animals or plants. They do not express any emotions nor are they idealised in any way. Now, these are characteritics also of the Jātaka stories themselves, and indeed of all tribal and primitive folk stories of the world. Besides this tribal and primitive character of the human figure as seen in Barhut, its comparative disregard in Mauryan court art but exuberant wealth in that of the Śuṅgas calls, I think, for an explanation. We know that Northern (i.e. Nordic of which Indo-Aryan is but a facet) art is characterised by its logical and abstract, rhythmical and disciplined designs and patterns but is conspicuous in its disregard of the human figure.
c12.5.2
It is only when the Northern people was brought into contact with the Southerners that man came to play his part and gradually became the pivot of artistic representation. But on the other hand, the Northerners brought with them into the South not only abstract patterns and designs but also an ornament flowing in rhythmic curves. The fusion of these two trends, the Northern and the Mediterranean (i.e. the Southern), can best be seen in ancient Greece and mediaeval Italy. Is it unreasonable to argue that the same phenomenon is observable in India? The social and religious ideology of Aśoka characterised by a sense of ethical purity and rational outlook as evidenced in his edicts is essentially Indo-Aryan. His preference for animal symbols and even rhythmically flowing vegetal designs appears to be Northern (i.e. Indo-Aryan) in affiliation. This also probably explains why Mauryan court art emphasises the animal figures more than the human. On the other hand the wealth of human figures in Śuṅga art is to be explained by the assumption of the existence of an art in pre-Mauryan India in which men and women must have played an important role, and which was un-Aryan in racial character and ideology. The human figure which came later on to be the main exponent of Indian art of the classical and early mediaeval periods, considered from this point of view, appears to be the gift of un-Aryan Southerners of India.
c12.5.3
It is true, evidences for such a hypothesis are not present before us in all their details as we have them in the case of Greek or Italian art, but if what modern researches, mainly by Strzygowski, have revealed to us in respect of Northern and Mediterranean arts and their intermingling in various centres of early and mediaeval Europe have any objective value and significance for early Indian art and if, further, we have to seek for an explanation of the various culture trends in early Indian art, I do not think we can reasonably escape from such a hypothesis. It is well known that the Buddha issued definite injunctions against representing himself in human form; indeed he was, according to certain texts (Cowell, ‘Jātaka,’ 479), averse to image-representations. I am inclined to believe that this was due to the general Indo-Aryan outlook that the Buddha shared. In any case, this probably explains the absence of representation of human figures in Mauryan art as well the concrete symbols—the vajrāsana, the foot-prints, the wheel, the ‘stūpa’ the sacred tree etc.—by which the Buddha is represented in Śuṅga art. The early Buddhist attitude was essentially religious, not artistic. But as time wore on, the emotional and sensuous of the pre-Aryan Southerner got the better of the religious and rational of the Aryan Northerner and eventually transformed these symbols into human form vibrant with life.
c12.6.1
A most characteristic formal quality of Śuṅga art is its flowing linear rhythm that binds all isolated objects in one continuous stream of life as it were. Look at any coping stone and you will find a huge stout lotus stalk flowing in rhythmical waves from form to form, not only binding each isolated item in one whole but permeating each isolated object itself, including the limbs of human beings, the animals and the trees with the same flowing linear rhythm. A most perfect example of this flowing linear rhythm is furnished by the representation of a griffin on a half-medallion on a railing post of the Sanchi Stūpa no. 2. But this is equally evident in the majority of the panelled reliefs and in the bolder and frameless large-size human figures on the upright posts. Even in the round and half round panels there is a slow but ceaseless flow of free rhythmical movement. The figures may be loosely dispersed on the reliefs, singly and in an isolated manner, but each one even in their isolation has to feel the touch of that rhythm and be swayed and permeated by it, whether it is on the reliefs of the Sanchi Stūpa no. 2 or on those of Barhut. Wherever luxuriant vegetation finds a place its radiating and continuous linear movements dominate the composition and all the figures irrespective of action and status become equal and integral parts of the whole.
c12.6.2
A panel of the so-called Prasenajit pillar and the figures of Yakṣiṇīs Candrā and Sudarśanā may be cited as examples of this flowing and rhythmical linear movement. In the former a slowly gliding curve passes over the bodies of the seated figures that constitute the music party. It sways each individual figure and bends it to the tune of the curve, but it does not stop there. It flows uninterruptedly along the swaying hands of the four dancers, through the movements of their bodies including that of the young one at the bottom. The entire composition is held by this slow but ceaselessly flowing linear rhythm that imparts life to the scene portrayed. Another scene equally vibrant with life shows the potency of this linear rhythm in no uncertain manner; it is the scene of Chuḍāmaha festival in the Sudharmā Hall of the Vaijayanta palace. The figures of Candrā, Alakanandā and Sudarśanā Yakshiṇīs, treated in relation to surface, nevertheless consist essentially of swaying and gliding curves of rhythmical lines. Even the jewelled drapery swaying vertically is more or less linearised in pattern, and that linear rhythm is imparted to the details of the tree, the ‘vāhanas’, and to the modelling of the body itself. But the discerning eye of Kramrisch, as early as 1924, observed that there was another trend in Śuṅga art which was equally potent, a trend characterised by a disregard of this flowing linear rhythm.
c12.6.3
This trend is best illustrated in several panels of the so-called Ajātaśatru pillar representing the Great Miracle of Śrāvastī, the preaching of ‘Abhidharma’ in the Tushita heaven and Buddha’s descent from the Tushita heaven by a ladder. It can be seen at once that these scenes are all completely devoid of any free and flowing linear rhythm; the figures are hard and isolated and the compositions are regulated in a schematic manner by vertical and horizontal lines. It is only an agitated display of light and darkness that disturb the otherwise static character of the scences. The trend is equally marked in several frameless figures standing on upright posts; such are the figures of Virudhaka Yaksha, Gāṅgeya Yaksha, Sūchiloma Yaksha, Chakravāka Nāgarāja, Mihira, the Sun god of Uttarapatha and Sirima Devatā, for example. No linear rhythm enlivens these figures; features isolated, compact and conglomerated are flattened in terms of surface, and give them an appearance of static and mechanical rigidity. In direct contrast to the flat treatment of the chest and abdomen of the male figures is the compact roundity of the breast-volume of Sirima Devatā which illustrates the conflict between the flatness of the surface and the third dimensional extensiveness.
c12.7
It is now possible to postulate that between the reliefs of the Ajātaśatru pillar and figures like Virudhaka Yaksha and Sirima Devatā on the one hand and the reliefs of the Prasenajit pillar and the figures of Chandrā and Sudarsanā Yakshinīs on the other there is the oscillation of an artistic vision which now inclines toward slow ceaseless flow of linear rhythm and again towards static and mechanical, vertical and horizontal schemes of composition. It is further reasonable to argue that the latter trend was gradually being overpowered by the former which means that isolated, compact and static rush of forms was progressively being subordinated to the free and rhythmic flow of lines and swaying balance. Now, Strzygowski’s studies in Nomadic Art have revealed that this ceaselessly flowing linear rhythm and swaying balance are Northern in origin and affiliation. It may therefore be assumed that this Indo-Aryan trait, even in Barhut, was increasingly on its way towards a rationalisation of the endless onrush of form after form packed densely one upon another, as we see it on the reliefs of the Ajātaśatru pillar or on those of the gateways of Sanchi Stūpa no. 1. The wild exuberance of form of non-Aryan and non-Mediterranean imagination was thus subordinated and bound down by the logic of rhythm and wisdom of balance; isolated and compact forms were co-ordinated into the discipline of a flowing linear movement and brought to the level of rhythmically composed representations. One need not be reminded that a similar process was at work in early Buddhism as well.