Terracotta Warriors

The usual problem of the gallery or museum: the stage effect, the institutionalization, the fellow patrons with whom the experience is shared. In the case of the poor old half dozen warriors detached from their eight thousand fellows in this exhibition at the Asian Civilization Museum on the Singapore river, the latter above all else raised the difficulty. In Singapore more than anywhere perhaps, denying the camera in an exhibition space could not be seriously entertained. Therefore, the ceaseless snapping throughout the two hours, flash after flash. Most of the photographers chose a comrade-in-arms position in front of the most photogenic of the Emperor's old warriors—the general at the head of his small platoon. The tallest and most imposing figure among the band, the general was also given the richest raiment.

The chubby, smiling-for-camera Westerner with the overpowering aftershave was worst offender. Another of the same in his late-twenties thought the tattoo on his arm worth more interest to his companion. 

— The Matrix, Chaos Theory.... he explained. Someone else encountered was reminded of the Taj Mahal.

In the midst, the 2,400 year old pieces that had helped a man return to earth.

A half dozen figures gave almost entirely the wrong impression when considering the scale of the site, the tomb and pits that these ranked hundreds upon thousands filled. A photograph of the mountain tomb above the burial pits that was projected onto the back wall of the room failed to convey the enormity of the site. 

The land area in question must have covered something like six or seven square kilometers. (Initially the photograph was mistaken for a scenic shot of the region from where the warriors were exhumed.) In the museum this was reduced to not much more than living-room size, the figures corralled behind ropes on a low platform. The pyramids at desk-model scale the unavoidable effect.

As isolated figures in this small collection, the warriors in themselves were unimpressive. There was little detail or individuation and a common blockishness in the trunks.     

            Understandably, on an industrial production of this order the kind of representation of the human figure to which we were accustomed in the West was beside the point. What drew the attention to the figures was a cast of look, a kind of visage or gaze that each of them shared in some degree. In the eyes and brows of the men there seemed to be something of another time and order. Asian faces appropriately downcast and narrow-eyed in a number of instances—not just the charioteer in his work-a-day pose. Real or imagined, some little hint of human sacrifice hung over them; the mark of fateful destiny possibly. The rest of it was the imaginative challenge of trying to comprehend the vastness of the project undertaken in that remote place and time; the social, political and sacramental impulses at work.

In the other contextualised pieces of the same period—300-400 BCE—the familiarity relaxed the underlying tension: elaborate incense burners, lamps, armoury. Bears and tigers featured prominently. More striking than these forms even was the motif of swirling clouds that appeared in the iron and brass work. In the era of the Emperor Qin turbulent atmospherics had figured strongly in the imagination. The hint of mountain dwellers living close below dramatic weather patterns was evoked.

The recall of the legions of dead was especially interesting at the month-long Hungry Ghosts observance; marketed to coincide perhaps. Make-shift outdoor temples had been springing up in unexpected places the last few days. The past—albeit decorous—fighting a rear-guard action in Singapore.

Like in a much of contemporary global museum experience, a stroll along the river afterward. In this case with the added benefit of a present-day Xi'an girl. (Modern Xi'an in central China was the site of the Terracotta Army tombs.) Laverne—the godmother's name after the U.S. TV series—had found the MBA her parents pressed on her unendurable, Arts Management was the best compromise. In schooldays Laverne had first visited the site of the Warriors, with the predictably indifferent response.

         A couple of river bends. Iconic buildings opposite each other built contemporaneously and doubly grotesque. One was in the form of a durian—the spiked round melon that formed the biggest culinary challenge in this region; while facing on the opposite bank sat the upcurled lotus flower. (Without the bookend one might have thought—mechanical claw.) Art-Science dedicated the latter. A world-first the two-in-one; the durian was theatre and concert hall. There was also a casino in the mix, what else? (Singapore has two.) Original can-do Asian Tiger. The reserve position remained: if worst came to worst, the buildings could always be pulled down. Build anew.