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Enlightenment on Seventh Avenue: The Rubin Museum of ArtHigh atop the Himalayas, there perches a nation called Tibet. Unexpectedly, among its craggy and bare rocks, you can see patches of lush greenery. Multicolored prayer flags wave in the wind; everywhere pilgrims kowtow in front of temples or circle them on foot, carrying prayer wheels. The bright jewelry and colorful dress of the Tibetan people reflect their vibrant religious art. Their welcoming friendliness is legendary. In Tibet you feel literally on air, as if you could live forever, or have lived before. It is so lofty, vivid, dramatic, and literally breathtaking that in 1933 James Hilton memorialized it with the fictitious name, Shangri-La. The name stuck, and ever since, this exotic paradise has stood for the ultimate destination of all tourists. About 10 years ago I was lucky enough to have the unforgettable experience of traveling there. At the beginning of February 2005, I found it again—on a far easier trip by subway.
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| The sixth-floor gallery and spiral staircase of the Rubin Museum. (Photo courtesy of the Rubin Museum) |
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Walking into the Rubin Museum from an ordinary Manhattan street, I entered a world populated by gods, goddesses, sages, and their disciples, as well as ferocious demons. This brand-new museum is a perfect metaphor for Tibetan Buddhism's espousal of transformation, and the belief that we all live many lifetimes. Quite literally transformed from a commercial establishment, the Rubin occupies a building whose previous incarnation was Barney's. The former department store (which itself replaced earlier brownstones) has been reborn as a repository for art of the Himalayas and surrounding regions.By chance, just before visiting the museum, I heard the Tibetan Lama Pema Wangdak, in his fifth annual Juilliard visit. (A related article is on Page 6.) He reminded us that the highest form of art is the mind. And celebration of the mind is precisely what the art in the Rubin collection achieves. Its goal is to help individuals attain ultimate, pure bliss through education or enlightenment; as a result, the place is an oasis of peace and joy.A large spiral staircase in the middle of the museum symbolically leads to different levels of spiritual experience. Although the fourth and fifth floors were closed at the time of my visit, I found it difficult to devote enough time to the three existing exhibition spaces.Paradox was my central impression as I climbed to each floor. The first section, titled "Sacred History: Sages and Stories," illustrated Buddhism's beginnings. The large Shakyamuni Buddha, the transcendent one, symmetrically seated on a lotus, radiates balance and overall peace as he mediates between heaven and earth. Nearby, his disciples, called Arhats, are portrayed as both individuals and universal figures. Humorous depictions of children and animals at play surround them. I experienced an overall feeling of calm in observing birth, death, and rebirth cycles in the stories of different founders of Buddhism and Bon (native Tibetan) religions. Teachings of compassion and wisdom fill the rooms.The next floor, "Perfected Beings, Pure Realms," is devoted to paintings and sculpture of beauty, sheer joy, and bliss. Here artists describe the ripeness of youth, and openness to pleasure and wealth. They employ sumptuous colors in intricate landscapes and portraits. Paradoxes proliferate. A religion that eschews materialism nevertheless celebrates earthly wealth in a jewel-pouring protector, known as Mahakala; worldly loveliness is lauded, although warnings of the superficiality of surface beauty abound; a culture believing in infinite lifetimes nonetheless blesses this life, encouraging longevity. Everything is possible, and there is no single path to enlightenment. All is in constant flux, shifting as the world spins, prayer wheels circle, and life goes through cycles.
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| Buddha Shakyamuni, Eastern Tibet, 1500-99, Gelug lineage, ground mineral pigment on cotton, collection of the Rubin Museum of Art. (Photo courtesy of the Rubin Museum) |
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One is often struck by analogies to Christianity and other religions. Halos or nimbuses encircle the heads of holy people; foot-coverings are removed when standing on holy ground; angels and devils surround us. Many narratives parallel each other: for example, an attack on the Buddha by the forces of evil resembles one of the temptations of St. Anthony in the desert. One charming painting shows the Buddha's smile literally disarming evil attackers, turning their swords into flowers as they attempt to assault him. Like gods of many sects, the Buddha had a miraculous birth—from the side of his mother. But it is important to remember that Buddha was not a god, and that there are many Buddhas, even female ones. (The word Buddha literally means "enlightened one.") Tara, for example, is a fully enlightened female Buddha, shown as approachable and young, a "friend in need."The third floor,"The Demonic Divine: Himalayan Art and Beyond," focuses on horrifying, wrathful, and fierce deities. As frightful as they appear, they nevertheless function as our protectors (analogous with the fierceness of a mother protecting her children). In the same way, the enemy of our enemy is our friend, and these deities must be fierce in order to protect the innocent from evil.It is in this section that we are treated to some of the most intricate and psychedelic of images. Shri Devi, the goddess who has the power to turn back armies, is a personal favorite. She is usually shown astride a mule, galloping across a sea of blood. Usually painted black, she is surrounded by dead victims, as well as a retinue of ferocious goddesses or angels. Often she wears a garland of skulls.One of the most amazing tangkas (paintings on cloth) is that in which Yama, the lord of death, holds in his hands and teeth the Wheel of Life. The Buddha himself was said to have made this image, drawing it in the sand in order to educate his disciples. Inside the wheel we see a cock, a pig, and a snake spin round and round, symbolizing desire, delusion, and hate. Various stages of life here occur in circles within circles, including all manner of torture, until tiny human figures attain knowledge and understanding, and finally emerge from egocentricity and illusion. These circles are reminiscent of Dante, in terms of detail and complexity. Wheels like this can be found at the entrance to every Buddhist temple, portraying the temporal world as something to be transcended.Everywhere in the museum, gods and goddesses take shifting forms and positions. Many possess numerous arms and legs, reaching out to the multitudes. Some have several heads. Right-side-up, inverted, still, in motion, in myriad colors, the art—like life—shifts, transmogrifies, repeats, extends, and finally enlightens.Few of us can understand even a small proportion of the intricacies and variations of Tibetan Buddhism, but we all can appreciate the vitality, spirit, utter beauty, and skill we see in the displayed art works. In fact, Shelley and Donald Rubin, the museum's founders, began with a single Himalayan painting they found 25 years ago in an art gallery. Entranced, they set out to learn about it, and continued to collect until they became the foremost private collectors, and started a foundation that has now taken on a life of its own.To enhance our appreciation, the exhibition space is well designed, with blue, green, and yellow walls, providing soft backgrounds. Seats are strategically arranged to help overcome our mortal museum weariness. There are friendly facilities, such as a charming store, an inviting café, and an intriguing list of public programs.The special exhibition, not open at the time of writing but scheduled to open on February 19, is called "Tibet: Treasures from the Roof of the World." It will be a first: borrowed directly from three of Tibet's foremost cultural institutions. It should be exquisite.I strongly recommend a leisurely visit to the Rubin Museum of Art, located at 150 West 17th Street, at the corner of Seventh Avenue. The museum is open Tuesday and Saturday, 11 a.m.-7 p.m.; Thursday and Friday, 11 a.m.-9 p.m.; and Wednesday, Sunday, and most public holidays, 11 a.m.-5 p.m. It is closed on Monday, as well as Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Year's Day. Admission is $7 for adults, $5 for students and seniors with ID, and free for children under 12.Art historian Greta Berman has been on the liberal arts faculty since 1979.
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