DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68516#0200
INDIAN ART
is done not primarily for man—it is indifferent whether any man ever
sees it—once it has been done it is entirely dedicated to the glory of
God. Thus Indian art escapes altogether from the influence of propa-
ganda and the desire for prestige, which we have seen tends to suppress
the artist’s sensibility. It never has the defects of an official art. In this
respect at least it is one of the purest arts that we know. The dedica-
tion to the god of pornographic imagery is no less significant—it is
part of the Indian’s refusal to analyse or make distinctions. Every
possible activity is felt by him indiscriminately as a part of his religious
life.
As a matter of fact, most of the imagery at Konarak is of inferior
quality, chaotic and incoherent, but here where the subject itself im-
presses plastic unity the result is strangely impressive. There is, too,
here an unusual feeling for monumental style—the merely imitative
realism of Indian art is not so apparent as, for instance, in the elephants
at Mamallapuram—the artist has found a plastic idiom in which to
interpret the observed facts. The figures are really composed.
Some of the best South Indian Dravidian sculpture is seen in the
bronze figures. This is a twelfth-century example (275). It is a very
accomplished work with a singularly consistent feeling for pose which is
carried through to the finger-tips. The poise of the head and the rather
swaggering posture seem expressive of the same mood as that given by
the demonstrative hand. Even the distortion of the long drawn out left
arm seems right to balance the rest of the design. The surface, mar-
vellously finished as it is, is expressive of the most unsympathetic
qualities of Hindu sensibility—the modelling everywhere has those
unctuous modulations from one plane to another—look for instance at
the knees—which repel one at a first glance and which it is impossible
altogether to disregard even when one admits the mastery of the general
design.
This Sinhalese bronze belongs to a similar tradition (276). It is in the
British Museum and is, I think, the finest work of Indian art which we
possess, but the photograph (which seems to be the best that the British
< 164 >
is done not primarily for man—it is indifferent whether any man ever
sees it—once it has been done it is entirely dedicated to the glory of
God. Thus Indian art escapes altogether from the influence of propa-
ganda and the desire for prestige, which we have seen tends to suppress
the artist’s sensibility. It never has the defects of an official art. In this
respect at least it is one of the purest arts that we know. The dedica-
tion to the god of pornographic imagery is no less significant—it is
part of the Indian’s refusal to analyse or make distinctions. Every
possible activity is felt by him indiscriminately as a part of his religious
life.
As a matter of fact, most of the imagery at Konarak is of inferior
quality, chaotic and incoherent, but here where the subject itself im-
presses plastic unity the result is strangely impressive. There is, too,
here an unusual feeling for monumental style—the merely imitative
realism of Indian art is not so apparent as, for instance, in the elephants
at Mamallapuram—the artist has found a plastic idiom in which to
interpret the observed facts. The figures are really composed.
Some of the best South Indian Dravidian sculpture is seen in the
bronze figures. This is a twelfth-century example (275). It is a very
accomplished work with a singularly consistent feeling for pose which is
carried through to the finger-tips. The poise of the head and the rather
swaggering posture seem expressive of the same mood as that given by
the demonstrative hand. Even the distortion of the long drawn out left
arm seems right to balance the rest of the design. The surface, mar-
vellously finished as it is, is expressive of the most unsympathetic
qualities of Hindu sensibility—the modelling everywhere has those
unctuous modulations from one plane to another—look for instance at
the knees—which repel one at a first glance and which it is impossible
altogether to disregard even when one admits the mastery of the general
design.
This Sinhalese bronze belongs to a similar tradition (276). It is in the
British Museum and is, I think, the finest work of Indian art which we
possess, but the photograph (which seems to be the best that the British
< 164 >