Black and White

Art has always been a cornerstone of any modern society.  Since our ancient ancestors first thought up the remarkable idea of painting figures on cave walls, art has been a source of creative release for the artist, and of inspiration for those who appreciate it.  A society's artwork can serve as a kind of mirror on a place, giving insight into its values, fears and hopes.  After all, every artist inevitably draws inspiration from the culture surrounding them.  That is why, as a traveler, it is such a rewarding experience to witness a culture's most-acclaimed art.  Recent tours that Jenna and I took of two famous and highly lauded examples of Thai art gave us a glimpse into this world.

Our first destination was the infamous Ban Si Dum ("Black House," sometimes called the "Black Temple").   This place is the brainchild of a Thai artist named Thawan Duchanee.  It consists of around 40 intricate structures strewn about a large compound.  The buildings vary a bit by design and size, but all are made of a combination of very dark wood, glass, brick and terra cotta.  They serve as galleries for Duchanee's strange and sometimes disturbing works, and are pieces of artwork themselves--beautifully designed and constructed.  

We entered the main hall, a vast space of deep brown timbers.  Long snake skins were laid out on tables as centerpieces.  Animal skulls hung mounted on racks beside the tables, and giant benches dotted the floorspace, boasting long bull horns for legs.

Tall totems of carved wood displayed the frightening visages of monsters and demons.  The poles were reminiscent of Native American totem poles, and I learned later that the artist lives some of the year in California and draws much of his inspiration from American Indian artwork.  The intricacy and attention to detail that the carvings displayed were incredible.

Many of the "pieces" were once living creatures, either killed for the purposes of his art or used after dying of natural causes; I'd like to believe the latter is true.  As an animal lover, I find it hard to stomach the thought of someone killing any living thing in the name of "artistic expression."   

Animal remains and giant snake aside, the place had a very serene quality to it.  It was eery at times, but the large, ornamental structures, gorgeous trees and flowers, and the secluded location made for a very peaceful experience.

After our visit to the Black House, we knew we must make time to see its antithetic brother across town: the Wat Rong Khun ("White Temple)."  A couple of weeks later, we got the chance to see this second wondrously strange place.

Unlike the Black House, which is a secular affair, the White Temple is indeed just that--a Buddhist temple, albeit an incredibly unconventional one.  Designed by Thai artist Chalermchai Kositpipat, the temple, although projected to remain unfinished until 2070, has drawn crowds from around the world since the start of its construction in 1996.

As we approached the temple from the front, we were confronted by a moat encircling the compound. In the water stood an evil-looking serpent statue, whose fixed gaze and gaping mouth shattered my expectations of the White Temple being a place portraying the delights of heaven.  While earlier I described the White Temple as the Black House's antithesis, this isn't exactly true.  Indeed, dark themes were on display here as well, and were perhaps made even more disturbing by the astonishingly bright and heavenly white backdrop of the temple's sparkling, mirror-covered edifice.

Passing over the moat and around the front of the temple, we were stopped in our tracks by a surprising and unlikely statue of the well-known and popular science-fiction monster made famous in the over-the-top 1980's film "Predator."  Past this statue, plaster molds of human heads hung from a nearby tree.  Two heads I recognized as those of Batman and the comic book antihero Hellboy.  Gazing at these alien yet familiar figures, I realized that this temple was going to be as much a comment on the influence of popular culture as it was a recognition of, and testament to, the Buddha.

                                                                     

Approaching the large central bridge that led to the temple's entrance, we came to a pit of writhing, reaching white hands.  Using imagery straight out of Dante's Inferno, Kositpipat has created a striking and frightening portrayal of the underworld.  We crossed the bridge and entered the main temple, and our eyes were drawn at once up and across the walls of the interior.  I'm sorry to say that we were not allowed to take photographs inside.  I hope my description alone will do it justice.

An enormous mural covered every inch of the four walls.  While some of the painting remained unfinished (the scaffolding was still up, and two painters were hard at work), much of the mural was complete.  The face of a giant dragon was the central massive figure of the entrance wall, in opposition to the large image of the Buddha behind the front altar.  Although the earlier pop culture references should have prepared me, I was still surprised to see familiar images from popular media throughout the mural.  Strewn through a nightmarish world of demonic creatures stood iconic images from movies, comic books and music.  Michael Jackson perched mid-chorus on a demon's tail; Elvis sang pacidly into a gaping maw; Neo from "The Matrix" posed in a parody of confidence among chaos.

Besides pop media figures, the artist had much to say of current affairs.  I observed Superman flying with futile determination over a New York skyline filled with plummeting bombs, while one of the Twin Towers burned.  A demon greedily guzzles from a gasoline hose.  An image of Earth from space depicts a giant mushroom cloud blazing on its surface.

These representations of our modern life left little room for doubting Kisitpipat's opinion of the state of world affairs.  He does, however, offer a poignant message of hope in the mural.  As the world burns and demons swirl through a world of distractions, plumes of smoke waft from the nostril's of the massive dragon.  These plumes drift across to the side walls, where they are transformed into "boats," vessels carrying people towards the serene image of the Buddha on the opposite wall.

I could spend a lot of time dissecting and analyzing these images, trying to come up with interpretations and theorize as to the author's intent.  I believe the general message is clear, however, and I'm trying hard not to make this blog dissertation-length...  Suffice it to say that the whole place struck me in a powerful way,  because of it's surrealistic and dark portrayal of modern life, its unconventional use of Buddhist imagery and its implicit message of hope.

All in all, both the Black House and the White Temple were fascinating encounters with modern Thai art, and I am thankful I had the opportunity to see them before the little time we have left here in Thailand comes to an end.