Ananda K. Coomaraswamy–A Tribute

 

BY K. CHANDRASEKHARAN

 

A rasika is born and not made, even as a poet is. Maybe, in the case of the rasika, his genius differs from that of a creative artist. But that difference must, if at all, exist in degree alone and not in kind.

 

An observation like the above one holds good with an art-critic of the calibre of the late Dr. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy. For, judging by adventitious circumstances alone, a person of the renowned Doctor’s birth and up-bringing, could not have easily possessed the capacity, which he showed in such abundant measure all his life, for appreciation of Indian Art. His father was a Ceylonese and his mother of British origin. His education was begun and completed in England. The rest of his years were practically spent in Europe and America, the latter being his adopted country during the last thirty years, till his death in September 1947. A savant to the core of his being, his astonishing interest in the study of Oriental arts like Indian sculpture, architecture, painting, music, dance and handicrafts, has earned for him an imperishable name, which is perhaps second to none in the sphere of interpretation and exposition of all that is best and noblest in the culture of the East, and particularly of India.

 

Still one feels a wonder how this scholar spending the best part of his life away from India could have divined the glory of India, that is her great art and culture. Well, let us listen to himself before trying to find out for ourselves what lay behind the wealth of scholarship he brought to bear upon his numerous writings. He writes: “Hindu writers say that the capacity to feel beauty (to taste rasa) cannot be acquired by study, but is the reward of merit gained in a past life; for many good men and would-be historians of art have never perceived it.” 1 Those that are familiar with the stuff of which he was made, will unhesitatingly agree that his amazing penetration into the nuances of Indian Art must be the result of the vasanas of a previous birth and nothing else.

 

Moreover, it is not in one field of knowledge alone that his capacious intellect perceived clearly things for itself or mastered the intricacies of a subject. Indeed, studies pertaining to a dozen subjects and countries, ranging from ancient to modern times, attracted him, and the outcome was his remarkable output in the shape of high-class books on the history and tendencies of the art of many countries, with beautiful plates to illustrate his points, as well as pamphlets and monographs on special occasions that demanded his considered views upon human problems facing the worn-out world of today. And yet, what amount of precision marks all that he wrote! One can judge of the level of his performances from what we get from him by way of quotations from Sanskrit texts that achieve a rare     illumination at his hands. His deep knowledge of Greek and Latin too aid him in the special task he chose for himself. Still, nowhere in his style do we perceive any desire for conscious effects or display of erudition. Rather, his expositions gain considerably by the apt footnotes and adequate extracts he was able to gather with accuracy. And in case there is any difficulty felt by the reader in reading him, it must be due to the reader’s own defective approach to the subject or the absence of a clear understanding needed to voyage forth with the author in a wonder-world that is Indian Art.

 

Years back when pseudo-critics and uninformed pedants like Vincent Smith, Maskell, Birdwood and Archer condemned the very features of vitality, infinity and repose as exemplified in the many armed or many-headed images we have in our hieratic art, there was only a dumb acquiescence in all that they said on the part of our so-called educated men. Western education spoilt so much the first few generations of university-educated men and women in India that they hardly thought of our heritage in the arts as anything but the vestiges of an unrefined or unformed sense of art in our ancients. Everything pertaining to our culture and philosophy stood at a disadvantage by the side of the amazing discoveries of the West in science. But things were not allowed to remain thus for long. Soon there arose, from the ranks of Westerners, art-critics of the type of E. B. Havell, who had the vision to perceive and proclaim to Indians themselves what phenomenal folly it was to neglect such great traditions as had once infused Bhakti in artists and inspired them to capture through imagination the undying glories of Ajanta and Ellora. Among Indians also champions appeared like Sri Aurobindo who carried on a crusade against the traducers of our ancient culture. But a regular school was needed to revive our arts and to teach what was gradually vanishing from our midst. The Tagores, Rabindranath and his cousins Abanindranath and Gaganendranath, inaugurated the Bengal School and ere long there was a stir in our hearts to understand what goes by the name of Indian Art. Still nothing could be so effective as a deep study of the basic rules of Indian Art and the rare philosophy behind all creative efforts in the land of the incomparable temples and stupas. Therefore it is that a tribute to Ananda Coomaraswamy for the inestimable services he rendered in fostering an appreciation of our relics becomes all the more essential in order to retain the spirit of such a revival, especially during times when India has become a free nation and no longer needs others to help her in the reconstruction of her future.

 

His writings abound in first-hand information and correct sources of historical data regarding the phases through which art has passed in our long history. To him we owe the first portfolio of ‘Selected Examples of Indian Art’–a collection of forty-two plates comprising representative types of painting and sculpture of more than one school, recognised and classified as such by savants working in the field. In addition, his wide travels in all parts of the world, as well as his intensive study of Indian handicrafts, urged him to specify in one of his early books, ‘Art and Swadeshi’, the need for a new orientation in our outlook and the preservation of what still remains with us after all the ravages of our contact with the West. Apart form that, he has given in that brochure the underlying ideas of Indian painting and sculpture with an exhortation to us to return to the past, at any rate in the sphere of fine arts.

 

His numerous other books require perhaps a special attempt at a careful classification and analysis according to both chronological data and subject matter. But we cannot in a brief compass do better than stress some of the salient ideas born of his great mind in the interpretation of our culture. ‘The Arts and Crafts of India and Ceylon,’ published so early as 1913 and containing two-hundred and twenty-five illustrations, is a comprehensive treatise treating adequately of our sculpture, painting, architecture and handicrafts. To prove its merit as a handbook for the earnest student of Indian Art, we can only quote one or two passages from it. In understanding the history and character of Indian Art he would wish us first to know that, “The Hindus do not regard the religious, aesthetic and scientific standpoints as necessarily conflicting, and in all their finest work, whether musical, literary or plastic, those points of view, now-a-days so sharply distinguished, are inseparably united.” 2 A more healthy plea for an all-embracing concept of Art we do not find anywhere else, except perhaps in some of Tagore’s essays on our culture. Again, let us listen to his elevating explanation for the absence of artists’ names on all the great historic relics we still have left us: “The absence of names in the history of Indian Art is a great advantage to the historian of Art, for he is forced to concentrate all his attention upon their work, and its relation to life and thought as a whole, while all temptation to anecdotal criticism is removed.” 3 Indeed, we pause to admire the tradition and belief which was never concerned to leave to posterity the vestiges of a personal vanity!

 

The collection of essays under the title of ‘The Dance of Siva’ bears out his critical appreciation of the great themes that have inspired our artists in sculpture, image making, music, etc. The birthright of uniqueness which we possess in our arts, he would not like us to surrender for the sake of anything in the world. In his words, “The essential contribution of India, then, is simply her Indianness; her great humiliation would be to substitute or to have substituted for this our character (Svabhava) a cosmopolitan veneer, for, then indeed she must come before the world empty-handed.” 4 It is not too late in the day if we, who are on the threshold of a new era of glory for our Motherland, should try to imbibe the spirit behind his utterances and try, in a remote way at least, to follow his timely admonition.

 

Let us turn to what he says of Indian music. Everybody today is fond of music, and, judging by the numbers that visit music performances in our country, we cannot but view with pride the enormous interest ordinary people show in such an intricate and delicate science as Carnatic music. But the fact cannot be screened from our view that so many that listen to such a type of music are not reflective enough to know what exactly accounts for the unflagging interest that generations have evinced in this art. Now let us hear Ananda Coomaraswamy upon the fundamental quality of our music that is responsible for this phenomenon. “The Indian music is essentially impersonal; it reflects an emotion and an experience which are deeper and wider and older than the emotion or wisdom of a single individual. Its sorrow is without tears, its joy without exultation, and it is passionate without any loss of serenity.” 5 How many, we ask, could have revealed the essence, as this great Doctor does, of what we term as musical experience, which alone produced such outpourings in a Saint like Thyagayya, whose music as regards its notes may be even limited but as an expression of truth is infinite? We know our music has an elaborate theory and a technique difficult to master; still we say, in its totality of appeal, it is not an art but life itself.

 

Of his ‘Transformation of Nature in Art’ one cannot easily attempt to describe the merits or defects. For, before one can essay upon that task, one should search one’s own mind in order to acquire self-integration of a high order. Some of the most subtle aspects of Hindu theories of art, imagination and sense of beauty are detailed here with a full consciousness of their imperishable underlying truths. Ananda Coomaraswamy feels himself secure in these regions, as the number of Sanskrit texts, upon art and aesthetics in general, have invariably aided him in formulating them and made him an object of marvel even to those that have spent their whole lives in studies of Sanskrit literature and Oriental arts. To quote one example of his deep penetration into the subject he has chosen, let us turn to him for a while. The word Sadrsya in Sanskrit is interpreted by him as follows in relation to art: “What the representation imitates is the idea or species of the thing by which it is known intellectually, rather than the substance of the thing as it is perceived by the senses.” 6 Another passage from this valuable work will show us what earnestness he evinced in making us all art-minded as well as sympathetic to Indian Art. “In Western Art, the picture is generally conceived as seen in a frame or through a window, and so brought toward the spectator; but the Oriental image really exists only in our own mind and heart and is thence projected or reflected on to space. The Western presentation is designed as if seen from a fixed point of view, and must be optically possible; Chinese landscape is typically represented as seen from more than one point of view, or in any case, from a conventional, not a real point of view, and here it is not plausibility but intelligibility that is essential.” 6 No doubt, to a novice much of what is here may be unintelligible. But that cannot be helped, as in the very nature of things art as conceived by our ancients should never wish to imitate nature. Rather, according to them, art should, if at all, imitate nature in copying nothing.

 

Ananda Coomaraswamy’s recent book ‘Figures of Speech and Figures of Thought’ is a work of rare value and defies analysis by any reader with a superficial outlook. There is no denying the fact that whatever he writes is informed by a religious feeling that his readers, whether few or many, should not be taken into a mere maze of ideas, but taken by the hand along the path trodden by more erudite and ancient writers upon the subject. Yet we find him fresh and genuine in his theories, without losing the thought of the present.

 

To the end of his days he was found writing periodically upon art and allied subjects that were near his heart. It is true he is not quite so widely known for his services to our country, as some of our great politicians. But that does not detract from the merit of the great impetus he gave to the revival that we are witnessing in the appreciation of our arts. All the same, the past was never an obsession with him. He moved with the times and cautioned his readers against a complete return to our past. What he wants of us Indians is “to understand, to endorse with passionate conviction, and to love what we have left behind,” as the only possible foundation for power that we aim at among the nations of the world.

 

Let us then pay our dutiful homage to the greatest of art-critics that our age has produced. Though separated by the distance of the seas and the oceans, he always thought of India and even felt a longing, towards the close of his life, for peace and rest in a secluded spot on the Tibetan Himalayas. He was a great path-finder and dreamed of many of our present aspirations for the reconstruction of India’s future. We cannot think of any other analogy for characterising his wonderful work of interpreting Indian Art than the great exploration of the unscalable heights of the Himalayas, whose peaks are not more imposing than they who discovered them first to us.

 

1 The Dance of Siva, p. 43.

2 The Arts and Crafts of India and Ceylon, p. 17.

3 Ibid, p. 22.

4 The Dance of Siva, p. 1.

5 Ibid, p. 79.

6 Transformation of Nature in Art, p. 13.

 

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