C.X. Silver Gallery
814 Western Avenue
Brattleboro, Vermont
Through March 8
A comely geisha serenely opens her parasol. Dancing children
parade a Shinto shrine through the streets. Mount Fuji rises
above a peaceful valley. Traditional Japanese scenes take on
a new vibrancy when composed of tiny snippets of cloth,
meticulously applied with brushes or chopsticks.
But once you know the back-story, these kiri-e paintings positively shine.
The Asian Cultural Center of Vermont has accepted stewardship of a collection of rare fabric kiri-e, painted by young women who survived the Hiroshima bombings in 1945. “The girls’ teacher was away visiting relatives during the blast,” explained Adam Silver, executive director of the cultural center. “When he came back, he went door-to-door through Hiroshima looking for his students.” He found few alive -- only one in seven.
Though certain details are sketchy, the paintings’ owner, Phyllis Rodin, relates the story as it was told to her 25 years after it had happened: the teacher set up a tent on the school grounds and instructed the girls to gather cloth from the ashes and wash it. He showed them how to snip the cloth into tiny bits to create a palette, and then use rice-meal glue to paint the cloth onto paper.
According to Rodin, who was given the kiri-e as a thank you gift by the city of Hiroshima after her work with blast survivors in the 1960s, the teacher wanted the girls to focus on happy memories, to help them process the trauma while also finding a way to return to a pre-bombing state of serenity. The 95-year old peace activist calls the work “art from the ashes.”
While the story of their origin adds both poignancy and gravitas to this
collection of untitled collages created by anonymous schoolgirls, the pieces really are a wonder in themselves.
The artists used materials with varying sheens, and carefully angled the weave
structure on the paper to create subtle effects. A nighttime scene of Hiroshima
shows clear homage to Van Gogh. The mikoshi parade with the Shinto shrine
is reminiscent of Matisse’s “The Dance.” The geisha paintings honor Utamaro.
All reclaim, in loving detail, elements of traditional Japanese life that would
never be the same again.
The C.x. Silver Gallery donates a certain amount of permanent space for a
small number of kiri-e, and the entire collection is available for viewing upon request. Silver clearly likes to show them as often as possible. “It only takes about 10 minutes to set them all up,” he explained. “Just ask.”
As you wait for Silver to bring out the kiri-e, feast your eyes upon the products of a very different spiritual exercise — contemporary Tibetan thangka paintings by Chuntui Lama of New Haven, Conn.
While the astoundingly intricate thangka do have a spiritual source and
purpose, they are traditionally viewed as decorative art objects as well, even among Buddhists. “These are beautiful objects of adornment,” said Silver, the thangka both ways,” he said. “As a piece of art for your house to decorate it, and you can use it for visualization practice.” In the latter case, “They are a teaching guide, not an icon.”
Lama’s thangka are fastidiously hand-painted on a base of white clay on
canvas, using mineral pigments and gold leaf. Each painting takes several
months to complete. While the precise proportions of certain figures are
predetermined by tradition, the backgrounds, colors and subject matter are
matters of choice for the artist. Lama is a third-generation thangka painter,
and his niece and nephew in Nepal are following in his footsteps. They are not
only learning to paint, but also are responsible for mounting his work on silk
brocade for hanging.
Anyone already familiar with thangka has probably seen some contemporary
paintings with color combinations so flashy that some viewers might be more
inclined to look the other way than to use them as a visualization tool. But Lama’s more traditional colors, while quite bold and juicy, are pleasingly combined, inviting contemplation — whether aesthetic, religious or both.
Particularly sweet are the subtle lines and shadings made by using only gold leaf and black pigment, a technique that softens the line and allows the bodhisattvas pictured to radiate openness and compassion. However, even
when using more vivid colors, Lama’s paintings have a softer look than