Page 36 - Indian and Himalayan Art, March 15, 2017 Sotheby's NYC

down to the knees and then slightly rising again to the back of
the robe, where it disappears, not being visible on the rear of
the sculpture.
The two inscribed versions of this deity are very similar,
di ering only slightly in size (the Palace Museum sculpture
is slightly smaller); in the position of the inscription: on the been variously described ever since it rst appeared in an
Palace Museum sculpture it is found on the back of the robe,
whereas here it is around the base; and in the treatment of
the eyes, which in the Palace Museum version are inlaid silver.
Otherwise the two are almost identical, and strongly resemble
other images of this form of the deity, all Chinese and most
dated to late Sui–Tang dynasties.
This particular iconography appears to be unique to China.
As Luo Wenhua notes: “…there have never been any traces
found of willow-branch Guanyin in India, and this form of
Avalokiteshvara was supposedly created in China around
the sixth century, possibly composed of Indian Buddhist
iconographic elements and Chinese Taoist medical beliefs.”
Popular during the late Sui to early Tang periods, this form
gradually died out, surviving only in few outer regions,
particularly in Yunnan, where it survived until about the
thirteenth century.
The recent history of the gure in the Palace Museum,
which was purchased by the museum in 1957, illustrates the
confusion that often surrounds the work of Chöying Dorje.
It was originally catalogued as Tang dynasty at the time of
the purchase and was later published by Li Jinjie as late Sui
or early Tang dynasty. When another Chinese scholar, Jin
Shen, presented the sculpture at a conference on Tibetan art
in 2002, he hypothesized that it was a 12th or 13th century
copy of a Sui dynasty sculpture, possibly cast by a Nepalese
craftsman (because of the high copper content alloy typical
of the Nepalese). When he showed a slide of the back of
the sculpture with the Tibetan inscription “rje btsun chos
dbyings rdo rje’i phyag bzo”, Tibetologists at the conference
recognized this as “a work made by the venerable Chöying
Dorje”, and since then the sculpture became known as a work
of the tenth Karmapa.
These two gures are striking in their contrast to the other
images by Chöying Dorje attributed to him by inscription. With
the exception of a small silver image of the ninth Karmapa,
the other inscribed Chöying Dorje images are remarkable for
their highly idiosyncratic style and mysterious iconography,
whereas these two are faithful to a known and well-de ned
iconography.
The contrast can be readily seen when comparing these
images of the willow-branch Avalokiteshvara to a Chöying
Dorje sculpture from the collection of Ulrich von Schroeder
sold at Bonhams Hong Kong in November 2016. This
enigmatic gure bears and inscription almost identical to
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that found on the two willow-branch Guanyins: “rje btsun chos
dbyings rdo rje’i phyag bzo (a work made by the venerable
Chöying Dorje)”.
But whereas the identity of the willow-branch gures is clear
and indisputable, the von Schroeder collection gure has
advertisement by then owner Adrian Maynard in 1987, where
it was described as “Bronze gure of Kubera; Nepalese, 6/7th
c.” It appeared in Sotheby’s New York sale of 17 June 1993,
lot 4, where it was described as “A Nepalese bronze gure of
Vajrapani, Licchavi, circa 7th-8th c.”, where it remained unsold;
it was o ered again and was sold in Sotheby’s New York of
30 November 1994, lot 335. In 2001, then in the collection
of Ulrich and Heidi von Schroeder, it was published by von
Schroeder as a Yarlung dynasty (7th-8th Century) Tibetan
sculpture, described as a “Composite Image with Aspects
of Vajrapani, Kubera, and Possibly Hayagriva.” I have always
found it very di cult to determine the intended identity and
have used the simple description, “Standing male gure”.
The other sculptures produced by Chöying Dorje and
attributed to him by inscription are similarly enigmatic and
di cult to easily identify within the iconographic canon.
But this gure is clearly and unmistakably a portrayal of
Avalokiteshvara holding a willow branch, or the willow-branch
Guanyin.
As I have written in previous essays, I believe that the tenth
Karmapa’s art changed through the various periods of his life.
From the biographical sources we perceive that his younger
years—when he was largely unschooled and perhaps less
aware of the strictures of standardized iconography and the
weight of previous traditions—may have been a period of
visionary creativity. The visions that his biographer ascribed to
him occurred before he was twenty-six years old, and it may
be that his most liberated sculptures—those seen in the von
Schroeder gure and related gures of a similarly enigmatic
nature—were done then, while in later years some of his
production, such as this willow-branch Guanyins and its pair
in the Palace Museum, would appear almost conventional in
comparison. Of course, until we know more about the evolution
of his art, this must remain conjecture. But this explanation
of the trajectory of the tenth Karmapa’s career as a sculptor,
would suggest that these two sculptures are part of his later
work.
Chöying Dorje’s preference for the Kashmir style and the
inclusion of elements of that style in his sculpture has been
often noted, and even in sculptures where the identity of
the gure may be obscure, elements harking back to early
Indian models can be found. But in this gure they are entirely
absent, rather we nd a very standard iconography drawn
from early Chinese sculpture. Why did Chöying Dorje decide to