The Met offers only one gallery for Korean art, and I was fortunate to be the only visitor in it this morning. The introduction on the wall informs the visitor about the importance of the moon jar in Korean culture; however, there wasn’t a single one on display. I was able to find this one in the archives. They are made by fusing the two hemispheres together, which is deeply symbolic in Korean culture of a quest for harmony between two connected and opposed halves, and has an obvious connection to Korea today, two opposite and connected nations. First millennia Koreans crafted the most delicate bronzes, such as this cup and this ladle. Their neo-Confucian mortuary and ritual objects reminded me of those I saw in the ancient Egyptian and Greek galleries. These thirty-four epitaph tablets told the story of this man’s life, then later placed in his grave. Another funeral object is this much older Bird-shaped vessel from the third century. The Korean gallery also includes many instruments such as this bak, a clapping percussion instrument used by a conductor both to signal the start of a ritual or performance and also to keep time as the leader of the ensemble. There were a number of colorful twentieth century instruments on display, such as the Teukgyeong, and Jwago at the center of the gallery.

The galleries of the Indian Subcontinent were almost entirely composed of religious icons: many, many buddhas, bodhisattvas, and Shivas. In the first millennium, Buddhism was prevalent, equal with Hinduism (Brahmanism); however, Buddhism faded away around the thirteenth century but had a profound influence on the art and religious icons in India. Today, India is a tense mix of Hinduism, with the Vedas the oldest religious text in human history, Jainism, a strong minority religion, and Islam, introduced in the fifteenth century. Woman Riding Two Brahmin Bulls from 2000-1750 B.C. is the oldest bronze object in the Met’s Indian collection. This Pakistani Ritual Water Vessel with an Elephant Spout and Lid with a Seated Youthful Male is a lovely example of a second century bronze. Both from the 5th century are this fiercely ripped Buddhist bodhisattva torso and this equally fierce Krishna battling the horse demon. This four-faced Vaikuntha Vishnu from the eighth century was the prominent cult icon of Kashmir. I was surprised by this crowned and bejeweled Buddha from the ninth century, also from Kashmir. Usually they are rendered in a much more simple form like this Buddha granting protection. This carved conch from the eleventh century is so pretty, and a strange breath of fresh air after so many statues of gods and goddesses! Did you think we were finished with them? Oh, no. Here is Shiva as Lord of the Dance, every part of this piece symbolic but taken as a whole implies salvation through a belief in Shiva. Finally, this sculpture of a Loving Couple touched me. Just two people. Loving. 

Upstairs takes you to a special exhibit of Ganeshas. To be honest, I associate Ganesha with trendy tattoos, the go-to Indian fetish tattoo. It is understandable, though, given that he represents new beginnings and is all about magic, surprise, and laughter. He is the god of clearing obstacles. I do see the attraction. And he is very cute with that little pot belly and elephant head. Here is one from the twelfth century out of copper alloy; this red sandstone Dancing Ganesha from the tenth century really conveys his playfulness. This eighteenth century watercolor painting, possibly part of a larger scroll, shows Ganesha leading a parade holding a bowl of sweets. It’s crazy to think about what people a thousand years ago would think about atheists in the twenty-first century tattooing Ganesha on their body. 

Also upstairs is art from Nepal and Tibet. I loved this ornate Vishnu Riding on Garuda from eighteenth century Nepal. Garuda is Vishnu’s mount, an anthropomorphic eagle. Very cool ride.There were several TIbetan paintings, distemper and gold on cloth. I had to look this up: distemper, “also known as cement paint, is one of the oldest types of paints that has been used for a long time. It is made with a combination of pigment, chalk, lime, water and animal glue-like resin or egg. The animal glue is made out of caseins and resins, which helps increase the durability of the paint.” Thanks, Internet! They are gorgeous. Check out the Thousand-Armed Chenresi and the Lineage Portrait of an Abbot from the fourteenth century

Back downstairs and into the Southeast Asia galleries, I confess I was feeling saturated with gods and goddesses. I was nonetheless captivated by this eighth century bronze, Ardhanarishvara (Composite of Shiva and Parvati) from Cambodia. It is a literal half male, half female, split right down the middle to indicate the shakta-shakti relationship of the unified whole. There are several stunning thirteenth century copper alloy halos and halberd (pole weapon) heads from Java (Indonesia). Moving into Thailand finds more buddhas, but also these exquisite sixteenth century earthenware dishes from the Sawankhalok kilns of Thailand. This Vietnamese stoneware Phoenix Ewer is also lovely.

My last stop for the day, Anxiety and Hope in Japanese Art, was a heavy one. All of the art, spanning centuries, deals with the topic of death, heaven, hell, hope, war, and trauma. Given what Japan has gone through as a nation, it is unsurprising that people turned to art to process both trauma and various philosophies around it all. As with the Chinese art galleries, many of the cultural narratives take the form of painted scrolls. This thirteenth century Star Mandala, one of the older scrolls on display, was used in religious rituals to call upon the stellar deities in times of distress. By the 1100s, Buddhist teachers began to offer hope for the afterlife in the veneration of Amida, the Buddha of limitless light, which would allow one to hope for eternal life in the Western Pure Land. Likewise, the hope of heaven came with a corresponding fear of hell, similar to Judeo-Christian religions. Several gorgeous scrolls depict hopeful scenes of heaven, such as Welcoming Descent of Amida and Bodhisattvas, while others, equally beautiful, depict the tortures of hell like Scenes of the Buddhist Hell. Death and mourning are a prevalent motif throughout these galleries, epitomized by this elaborate scroll, Death of the Historical Buddha. I was intrigued by this hanging scroll, probably intended to be decoration for a tea room, which shows two characters: “earth” and “prison,” which combined form the word jigoku or “hell.” The placard reads that this was meant to “set the tone of tea gatherings.” 

I found it interesting, likely intentional, that the two galleries one visits on the way to images and art from World War II are visions of spring and Zen. A little emotional palate cleanser before the stark reminder of the horrors the U.S. visited on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In the “Spring” gallery, this outer robe is ornately festooned with birds and flowers, and Mount Penglai, so lovely, so serene. Step into the other room and there is an outer robe for a child covered in youth soldiers and war propaganda, and another one for a woman decorated with war planes. These robes are interspersed with photographs of the aftermath of atom bomb attacks. 

I will end the post by circling back to Southeast Asia and a contemporary Cambodian sculpture entitled Buddha 2. Artist Sopheap Pich, born in 1971, writes, “Buddha 2 was born out of a short journey my family took on foot from a Khmer Rouge village to the center of Battambang, the province of my birth. The Buddha was to symbolize a temple called Wat Ta Mim. My family built a hut across the street. I used to go past the temple ground everyday with a buffalo to the rice field several hundred meters away. I would occasionally walk inside the temple hall to see bloodstains on the floor, ceiling, and walls—bloodstains that looked like they had been sprayed with a toy gun. Where there used to be the normal Buddha sculptures, there were just piles of broken things I couldn’t see. . . . I was afraid to look in the dark. I’ve never made a Buddha sculpture prior to this. . . . It just happened that as I moved down from the shoulder area, I thought it maybe was enough for what I wanted to say. I dipped the ends of the strands in India ink to get at the bloodstains I had seen. Some say it is about the broken state of religion and culture.” 

Buddha 2, to me, encapsulates the trajectory of violence, genocide, erasure, that humanity has been and continues to be on. The Buddha is hanging on by a thread, dipped in blood. One healing step may be for us to see one another, actually see, but that takes a willingness to listen and to learn, and to drop our biases and beliefs that our way of life is the best one and the only one. Being in these galleries over the last two days has inspired me to be better at this.