Asia: the Land, the Men, the Gods | Part One

This exhibition, a snapshot of a large collection, is a world in itself. Another world, different from what is called the Western world (even though they’re getting closer and closer). And, as always, when we enter a strange world, the first feeling we get is chaos. Objects and figures look like an indistinct mess. Form, in our first glance, is void.  But this world soon starts suggesting its own order, its meanings. The first sign of this order is the gesture: the clear gesture—a hand pointing upwards; fingers composing a figure whose meaning is fleeting. The gesture is everywhere—because the hand, a human value as important as the brain, is everywhere; because the body is everywhere in this world. And alongside this gesture comes the invisible gesture, before the explicit one. This is embedded in the fabrics handmade on loom; the embroidery; the curve of a bamboo wire in such a way that its form resembles the magnetic shape of lacquer pieces; the grooves in chairs and chests; the inscribed text (at the same time, the painted text) in Japanese calligraphy. [Teixeira Coelho]

Ganesha, also known as Ganapathi, is one of Hinduism’s best-known deities. Son of the god Shiva and his consort Parvati, Ganesha is the subject of legends that tell his story and origins as a “hybrid” form, a human body with the head of an elephant. Ganesha is considered a remover of obstacles and granter of success and abundance. He is also the master of intellect, wisdom and the symbol of logical and reasonable solutions. He represents the balance between strength and kindness, power and beauty, and is also a symbol of the ability to distinguish between truth and illusion, real and false. For these reasons, his devotees invoke his protection before starting any task—travelling, doing business, beginning a new job, performing a ceremony or any sort of public presentation (a musical act, a speech, etc.). Ganesha opens this exhibition: Aum Shri Ganeshaya Namah. [Fausto Godoy]

Parallell to the civilizations that developed alongside the Yellow and the Yangtze rivers, in China, at the Indus river area, near the fourth millennium bc, another great civilization arose. It has thrived between 3,300 and 1,900 bc, in the region that now encloses Balochistan, Sindh and Punjab, currently in Pakistan. The Mehrgarh inhabitants migrated to this area around 7,000 bc and gave birth to the Indus Valley Civilization. This civilization, also called Harappan, a reference to the archeological site of Harappa, in the Pakistani Punjab, was spread, in its apex, over 1.5 million square kilometers, a territory larger than Mesopotamia and Ancient Egypt combined. For reasons not clear yet, it came to an end in a more or less abrupt way, around 1,900 bc, and remained forgotten for millennia, until its existence came to light with the excavation by the British archeologist Sir John Marshall in 1920.  Its remains, in the archeological sites of Harappa as well as in Mohenjo-Daro, further south, are still intriguing for their advanced urban planning knowledge.  The vestiges of civilizations in the Indus Valley survive, above all, through ceramics, which shows very peculiar features. [Fausto Godoy]

The second sign of this other universe’s order is detail. This is the universe of detail, which stems from gesture. Everything is made from detail: the full view does not allow a total understanding of what is shown, you have to scan the details. Once again, seeing this world means a better view to “our” world, “our” art from which detail was abolished, just like the gesture: impressionism is the realm of wholeness, and in cubism, abstractionism and conceptualism, detail has no role to play. But in this (still) imaginary territory that is Asia and its art, nothing exists but detail. Detail becomes ornament, and everything is ornament next to ornament, everything is ornament from another ornament. The Western person who lives in a stylized world, reduced and simplified (and impoverished, nowadays)—from architecture to design objects and trashy clothes—is no longer used to detail and ornament. [Teixeira Coelho]

Every collection has its Mona Lisa, a piece that becomes an object of singular—real or imaginary, intrinsic or external—values (events surrounding it, former owner, histories about its origin and journey, identity links). This jade monster head can be one of this collection’s Mona Lisas. Firstly, due to its age. Dating a jade block is not an easy task; its hardship is already a great obstacle. How old is it? An actual ancient jade piece must belong to a period before the 2nd century bc. An archaic piece may belong to a more recent lot and be inspired by ancient styles with no intention of deceiving: the “copy-the-ancient” Chinese tradition is long, and the idea of imitating begun in the Song dynasty (960–1279 ad) and continues to the present day. Imitating means recognizing and paying tributes to the value of the original; in Michelangelo’s time, someone who wanted to get established as an artist should first perfectly copy a master— and only then innovate.  This jade head may belong to the late Neolithic period (ca. 1500 bc) or may be closer to the year zero. [Fausto Godoy]

In this exhibition’s universe, it all comes from a convergence of gesture and detail, which provides a different idea of beauty, usually translated (and denied) in an idea of bad taste. There are so many details and each one is more impressive than the other. To understand them, and to understand the Asian taste you have to consider that these objects do not offer any kind of asceticism, transcendence or idealism: what exists and matters is in the visible gesture, in the evident detail. “Good taste” in the West is only possible when one seeks to escape what exists. This is not about defending the “Eastern values” and despising the “Western values”: each one is different and we must understand what both can offer and why. When you are not searching for asceticism, purification, depuration, the scale of taste is different.  Nothing, however, is trivial; nothing is by chance—because nothing here stems from improvisation or lack of purpose. [Teixeira Coelho]