Nandi the bull is the mount of the Hindu god Shiva. I took this photo at the Asian Art Museum, where, unfortunately, the bull is less prominently displayed than it was at the museum’s old location in Golden Gate Park.
In southern India, a large sculpture of Nandi would usually be placed in front of the main sanctuary of a temple to Shiva. It would face toward the sanctuary, so that Nandi could gaze adoringly at the representation of his master enshrined there. Because of this orientation, worshippers entering the temple compound would approach the sculpture of Nandi from behind.
Here Shiva’s bull is decked with garlands, strings of bells, an elaborate blanket, and other decorations carved in the stone. In the temple, it would also have been wreathed in real flowers and fabrics.
Still, Nandi remains much beloved, and this massive statue 15th-century granite statue is readily accessible in the museum’s south court, where it is well worth a visit.
That’s the title of the exhibition showing at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco through May 27. I received my new camera — an Olympus E-PL2 — a couple of days ago and took of few pictures of the warriors yesterday. The E-PL2 is a micro four thirds mirrorless camera that has a near-DSL-size sensor but a small body. It should be perfect for the travel photography that I like to do.
The AAM display features dark-colored walls and dark rooms with moody lighting. The warriors are not, of course, light sensitive — originally they were brightly painted, but they are never shown that way today — but the exhibition design makes an effective display. Low light situations are not really this camera’s strength, but it performed pretty capably.
In the museum’s north court there is a replica chariot pulled by a team of four horses.
After viewing the warriors, you might want to go up the escalator to view the museum’s permanent collection. It’s best viewed, if you have the time, starting from ancient South Asia at the top of the escalator.
The small figure at the top of the escalator in that photo is Ganesha.
The Asian Art Museum (200 Larkin Street in San Francisco’s Civic Center) is hosting a party to celebrate their opening of an exhibition featuring some of the First Emperor’s terra-cotta warriors. The party, beginning at 7:00 this Thursday, February 22, will feature CHERYL, an artist collective that throws “the Big Apple’s most outrageous party” (Time Out London).
In other news, 7junipers has been inactive for some time dealing with nonvirtual projects. I hope to return to more active blogging. We shall see.
This fellow in a New York mood is Ai Weiwei, self-photographed in 1983. His show at Asia Society just completed, but there is still what looks like an excellent exhibition of Buddhist sculptures from Pakistan at the Asia Society Museum, including this handsome Gandharan bloke, on loan from the Lahore Museum:
English speakers have an uphill slog to make sense of Chinese pronunciation from its transliteration. The Wade-Giles transliteration system used a lot of diacritical marks, with all the annoyances that entails. But the Pinyin system, which now far predominates (and is used in the museum’s materials) has its own challenges. Such as:
Q
This one at least is easy to learn. Q is pronounced like “ch,” so “Qin” is pronounced “Chin.”
Zh
You would think this would represent the initial sound of the French word “jardin,” or the way some people pronounce the second gee in “garage.” Nope. It’s pronounced like a J. “Zhou” is “Joe.”
Ang
What could be simpler, right? Wrong. No really, wrong: it’s pronounced more like the “ong” in “wrong.”
X
Who knows how to pronounce X in any language? In the U.S. many people just give up and pronounce the Spanish name Xavier as “Ex-avier.” In Pinyin X represents a kind of “sh” or “hs” sound, sort of like in the word “sheer.”
C
If you know Western languages you would have three guesses about this one: the C in “cat,” the S in “sat,” or the CH in “chat.” But it’s actually pronounced more like the “ts” in “nets.”
Iu
When you get to the IU sound you know when Pinyin was constructed someone must really have been trying to be difficult. This is pronounced like the “yo” in “yoyo.”
I
After c, s, or z the “i” sound is pronounced like the “i” in “sir”: after ch, sh, zh, or r it’s like the whole”ir” sound in the same word, “sir.”
Z
This isn’t really too bad. Just add a little initial dee sound, like the “dz” in “adze.”
Er
Not the sound a hesitant speaker makes, this is a homonym for the English word “are.”
Ong
This is pronounced like the “ung” in the German “achtung.”
Got that? Now we’re ready to tackle any Chinese name. Can you say the name of the late Ming painter Dong Qichang? Sure you can. It’s something like “Dung Chi(r)chong.” Er, I think. Please correct me.
This unusual enso based on the character for heart/mind was made by Daido Bunka in the first half of the eighteenth century.
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The Character for ”Heart/Mind” as an Ens?, 18th century, by Daido Bunka (Japan, 1680-1752). Hanging scroll, ink on paper, image 11 3/16 x 21 in. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Gift of Edwin Janss, M.84.211.1.
This image of two women viewing omikuji, or rolled-up fortunes, comes from kalandrakas’ photostream. Kalandrakas writes:
Omikuji are random fortunes written on strips of paper at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples in Japan.
The omikuji predicts the person’s chances of his or her hopes coming true, of finding a good match, or generally matters of health, fortune, life, etc. When the prediction is bad, it is a custom to fold up the strip of paper and attach it to a pine tree in the temple grounds. A purported reason for this custom is a pun on the word for pine tree (? matsu) and the verb ‘to wait’ (?? matsu), the idea being that the bad luck will wait by the tree rather than attach itself to the bearer. In the event of the fortune being good, the bearer should keep it. Though nowadays, this custom seems more of a children’s amusement, omikuji are available at most shrines, and remain one of the traditional activities related to shrine-going . . .
Stones in Japan are used for bridges, water containers, lanterns, and many other purposes. They are especially used as steps on paths.
In an echo of Japan’s animistic native beliefs, stones are chosen for the spirit they emanate. They form a link between people and the earth. Stones that are scored or pitted or covered with moss evoke the spirit of wabi-sabi — of harmonious simplicity and impermanence (more on this in a subsequent post).
This image of petal-covered stepping stone as Shokokuji, a Rinzai Zen temple in Kyoto, comes from EYLC’s photostream.
