Click here to read the original review.

The implications of a New York Times art review for Tibetan artists and society.
In Ken Johnson’s review of Tradition Transformed: Tibetan Artists Respond, an exhibition of contemporary Tibetan art at New York City’s Rubin Museum, most of the artists don’t come off too well, including myself. Mr. Johnson’s remark on my piece ‘if Buddha-mindedness has anything to do with digital consciousness, we need to see more.’, reminded me of high school reports I used to get that both cajoled and  reprimanded on behalf of the school, and perhaps the Queen and all of Britain, with the use of the word ‘we’.  I responded by listening to more Pink Floyd back then, and today, I certainly can’t put forward an elegant formula that equates the Buddha mind to digital consciousness for Mr. Johnson…..mainly because that was the farthest thing from my intentions when making the piece.  And therein lies both the relevance and non relevance of art criticism made across such a wide cultural and historical chasm, and I’m not saying that necessarily to defend my or any other artist’s work in the show.     

As an artist, while appreciation by a critic of any culture would be a welcome thing, I feel that it would be a very rare instance for a non-Tibetan critic to be able to gauge the relative power and cultural relevance of a contemporary Tibetan artist’s work for Tibetan society. But an art review by the New York Times on contemporary Tibetan art brings up a point that’s a lot more complex, and one that has far reaching implications for both Tibetan artists and Tibetan society; how much of it is relevant to us and how much, if, at all, should artists try and tilt their art to accommodate the critic’s views and expectations in the hopes of better future reviews and increased commercial success? In my view, since the vast majority of the buyers of Tibetan art are non-Tibetans today, many of us will find it a smart move to do some keen note taking when critics, gallery owners and buyers speak. But I hope that Tibetan artists will always find the time to make some work purely for themselves and the Tibetan audience, regardless of whether they sell or not. Not to do so, and to only make artworks geared for sale would be a sad injustice to Tibetan art and Tibetan audiences. The artists in Lhasa back in the 80s and 90s found a solution to this dilemma that we would be wise to  emulate if our work is becoming increasingly guided by market forces. They made one set of art that would appeal more to tourists and others who had certain expectations of what contemporary Tibetan art might look like, and then made another set for themselves that they felt had fewer possibilities for sales. Needless to say, the latter work was truer and closer to the artist’s interests and obsessions, and were the ones that had the potential to move receptive Tibetans.  And today, quite remarkably, quite a few of the Lhasa based artists have succeeded in finding commercial success with their ‘real’ work, and in turn, gaining control over what their art is.

But no matter what the relevance of a New York Times review has for Tibetans, for the vast majority of New York Times readers, the review was probably very helpful as it viewed the show through the narrow reference points that most New Yorkers, or a tourist from Austin or Australia who is perusing the paper’s culture pages for  tips on what to do and see in the city, have when they think of Tibet and Tibetan art. It’s perhaps with that purpose in mind that prompts Mr. Johnson to take well known cliche images such as tantric depictions of deities in sexual union, and wrathful manifestations of dual form deities as points of departure from which to critique some of the work in the show, and that also cause him to lament the failure of some artists to take things to either their obvious or extreme conclusions along the narrative concepts of the works as he saw them. If I were to separate myself from being one of the artists in the show, or even from being a Tibetan, I think the article would probably be quite stimulating, and would intrigue me sufficiently to go see the show if I had an interest in contemporary art and Asia. And in that sense the the review is probably of great benefit to the artists, especially my friend Kesang Lamdark, who comes closest to getting rave reviews, the Rubin Museum, and the project of contemporary Tibetan art in general. There is a potential for new Tibetan art to contribute towards the shattering of stereotypes and pigeon holes that act to confine and deny realistic Tibetan identities, and the complexity of the changes that our culture is undergoing today, and the more focus and awareness there is for new Tibetan art and other Tibetan expressions, (regardless of whether it’s a good or bad review as in this case), the better the chances of people becoming aware of how far the fantasies and iconic images of Tibetans are from the reality of the Tibetan experience today. And once this disconnect becomes acknowledged by Tibetans ourselves and others, then we more easily begin to look at the reality of our lives, and start confronting questions of what cultural anchors and buoys we can carry forward in order to negotiate our future, and enable us to start controlling and defining our evolving identities. To this end I welcome the review and thank Mr. Johnson and the New York Times for focusing on this show.

I appreciate Mr. Johnson’s astute observation when he says ‘That few speak to old-new, East-West tensions in very surprising, deep or challenging ways does not make the show less interesting to think about. This is rich philosophical territory. The more the culture of corporate capitalism dominates the planet, the more urgent becomes the question of what happens to traditional, local cultures. Do they become extinct? Can they be modernized without losing their souls? Can their essences be recast in nontraditional forms?’. Of course what’s dominating Tibetan culture is less ‘corporate capitalism’, but more the impact of Chinese exploitative and rapacious policies that are marginalizing traditional Tibetan lives and livelihoods, and smothering any initiatives by Tibetans to engage in culture production, but still, Mr. Johnson’s point touches very closely on the ideas and challenges that I believe most Tibetan contemporary artists are grappling with today.

Now if only a brilliantly astute, insightful, and culturally engaged Tibetan art critic would give us a piece of her mind on Tradition Transformed: Tibetan Artists Respond, now that would be a refreshingly terrifying experience.

By Tenzing Rigdol. Originally published on Young Tibet Online.

Myth has it that when Columbus and his sailors came to invade America, the Native Americans didn’t see the huge ships that were approaching the shores of their homeland, simply because the innocent Native Americans didn’t have the psychological context, knowledge and vocabulary with which to construe the visual sensations. The transduction of neural information never came to the fruition of correct perceptions. Similarly, I believe that the art reviewer Mr. Ken Johnson of New York Times miserably failed to perceive much of what was happening at the Rubin Museum of Art’s current exhibit of Tibetan modern art, titled Tradition Transformed, simply because he didn’t have the knowledge or the qualification to write properly about Tibetan contemporary art. So most of the trees and inks were wasted over his insipid prattles erected on the pedestal of arrogance and ignorance.

Like a blind man writing a thesis on light, Mr. Johnson flounders and errs in his review, hovering over the surface of one painting to the next, describing with disjointed logic and making statements that the exhibit in its entirety clearly contradicts. He blindly announces, “Surprisingly, given Tibet’s violent post- World War II history, none of them deal with politics directly, nor do they express anything very personal about their own experiences.” Incredibly, he either fails to see or chooses to ignore Tibet-born artist Gonkar Gyatso’s piece My Identity. A series of four photographs, this piece is widely acknowledged to be one of the most important and politically significant contemporary Tibetan artwork. Many art critics and scholars of various disciplines have written in great length about this piece.

The artwork accurately and poetically captures the exilic experiences of being a Tibetan political refugee at various personal levels. It deals with the identity struggle that he as an individual endured as the result of China’s occupation of Tibet.

The first picture shows the artist in his traditional Tibetan chu-pa dress in a dignified and serene posture. This piece amply speaks about independent Tibet. The second photograph shows him in a party cadre uniform, with a red arm band and a painting of Chairman Mao.

The third photograph shows his struggle as a Tibetan in exile. The ready-to-go maroon suitcase signifies his desire to return to his homeland. The unkempt long hair and the symbolic bareness of his foot give the melancholic experiences of a refugee. The framed photographed of H. H. Dalai Lama atop, probably signifies the artist’s and the rest of Tibetan people’s strong devotion towards the non-violent political struggle of Tibet. The last photograph expresses the sedimentation of his previously disorganized lives as a vagabond. The acquired serenity and stability clearly proclaims his identity with a tattoo on his left arm which reads Tibet. Additionally the absence of Buddha, Mao, or even the Dalai Lama in the photograph probably proclaims the history and civilization of Tibet that predates all of them for thousands of years. When this artwork was exhibited in China, it was censored due to its strong political content.

Tsering Sherpa, Preservation

Furthermore, he fails to acknowledge the complex political artwork created by Tsering Sherpa, titled Preservation. His father along with millions of Tibetans underwent great sufferings due to the invasion, which was further worsen by the destructive cultural revolution. The fanatic hammer of bringing down all that is old revolution fell hardest in the land of snow. His father who is a master thangka painter spent all of his life preserving the unique Tibetan traditional painting and trained Tsering to become the heir to his tradition. So in many ways this particular painting of Tsering, depicting a glass jar in which you can see the Buddha’s head deals with the complex triangular struggle between him, his father and the struggle against the Communist force. The label on the jar reads, 1959, and it  corresponds to the year that Tibet lost her independence.

Mr. Johnson has signally failed to understand the metaphorical allusions and the conceptual vocabularies of the artist simply because of his lack of preparation to review the show. Nevertheless he has the audacity to say that the show fails to deliver neither the intense conceptual nor the metaphorical thought. To review means to critically evaluate, to evaluate means to arrive at judgment but to in order to arrive at judgments mustn’t one be at minimum, modestly equipped with the knowledge of the subject matter.  He claims that the artworks of Pema Rinzin, Penba Wangdu and Norbu are decorous. Aren’t all artworks decorous when orphaned from its personal and traditional history? Without the historical and personal backgrounds the description of Picasso’s artwork would be ‘crooked eyes, crooked nose and bright colors’, and Pollock’s drip paintings would be similar to the random droppings of restless pigeons that we find on the floors under the Roosevelt subway station. And Andy’s Brillo boxes would just be a casual boxes and Duchamp’s urinal pot would just be like the one in our restrooms.

Furthermore, he suggests some artists to “think of all the sex and violence in traditional Hindu and Buddhist art.” I doubt that he knows the signification behind those figures in tantric positions. They are not sexual but spiritual; they are not about violence but about absolute compassion, but a pervert, who sees a mother breastfeeding her child would always misinterpret  the spirituality of the act. Not a single dictum or a statement that he has scribbled exhibit a sense of confidence in the subject matter. I encourage the reader to read his review to see it for yourself, how uninformed and ignorant his views were on the artworks that were at the show. His use of limited terminology, and awkward and forceful attempts at pinching the Buddhist philosophy and Tibetan traditional artwork is comedic at some instances.

Rubin Museum of Art is equipped with faculties of experts on Tibetan traditional and contemporary art, so to bluntly conclude that modern artists of the exhibit are merely doing the things that Tibetan artists of the past had done hundreds of years ago, is just insulting to the intelligence of American readers. After reading Mr. Ken Johnson’s review, I honestly doubt if he had really been to the show that he was reviewing. Even though I highly admire the New York Times for its interest in Tibetan Contemporary Art, I hope that a more informed reviewer on this subject will emerge in the future.

O Mandala Tantrik in the 4th Floor Gallery

Detail of the mandala center of O Mandala Tantrik

"Things That POP In My Head," 2009 (Private Collection) by Tsherin Sherpa

Female Western Buddha Mix with Klimt. Artist: Pema Rinzin. Private Collection, New York. 2009.

With Donald Rubin, Tashi Choden, and Losang Gyatso

Artists Tenzing Rigdol and Tsherin Sherpa

Tenzing Rigdol and Palden Weinreb

Artists Tenzing Rigdol and Tsherin Sherpa