Going down the old Silk Road

Editor’s note: The legendary Silk Road brought us the beauty of the ubiquitous buta, glitter of gyaser brocade and stunning thangka scrolls. This essay explores our debt to this ancient trade route—and the lesser known ways it has shaped our cultural history. 

This article was first published on MAP Academy—a wonderful resource of stories on cultural heritage, art, museums and lots more. You can find other wonderful essays on art and culture over at their website. All images that appear in MAP Academy articles are sourced from various collections around the world, and due image credits can be found on the original article on the MAP Academy website. The MAP Academy is a non-profit online educational platform committed to building equitable resources for the study of art histories from South Asia. 

This article originally appeared on the MAP Academy website. All images that appear with the MAP Academy articles are sourced from various collections around the world, and due image credits can be found on the original article on the MAP Academy website. The MAP Academy is a non-profit online educational platform committed to building equitable resources for the study of art histories from South Asia. 

South Asia’s trade connections by land and sea have shaped the region’s art and culture in varied and subtle ways since the early third millennium BCE. As merchants, travellers and missionaries from diverse and far-flung parts converged along trade routes such as the Silk Road and in port cities of the Indian subcontinent, they exchanged not only commercial goods and art objects but also ideas and techniques. In these cosmopolitan centres, pre-existing indigenous traditions melded with foreign influences. Styles and motifs were borrowed and exchanged freely across religions and traditions, resulting not in imitation but rather in the transformation of existing genres and the birth of new forms.

Many South Asian traditions exemplify this fusion, from the sculptures produced in Gandhara in the second century BCE to the illuminated manuscripts made for Deccan courts in the seventeenth century. However, nativist concerns for ‘authentic’ indigenous styles and forms have often hindered the recognition of such syntheses in South Asian art.

The debate over origins has been especially concentrated around objects and structures that have come to be closely associated with regional, national and religious identities. The anthropomorphic Buddha images from Gandhara and Mathura, the sophisticated Mauryan animal capitals and even certain symbols such as the ubiquitous buta and Tree of Life motifs are cases in point. Yet, such images, in fact, exemplify both the curiosity and adaptability of the South Asian artist, artisan and patron. They are a testament to the richness of the region’s economic and cultural resources, which have attracted people and influences from varied traditions across continents.

Budding beauty: Buta

An umbrella term that broadly refers to motifs of flowers, leaves, trees, shrubs, and buds. It derives its name from the Persian boteh, meaning “shrub” or “flowering plant” and is commonly used to decorate textiles. Butas appear in various sizes, colours and orientations and often in combination with butis. The term originally referred to the teardrop-shaped motif, also known as Boteh Jegheh, kairi motif, mankolam, and paisley.

The motif is believed to have originated in Babylon, circa 1700 BCE, and has been widely used to signify nobility and royalty. Although the exact origins of the buta in India are unknown, it has been in use since the sixteenth century, primarily in Kashmiri shawls, which were popular among the Mughals. While Indian craftsmen adapted the motif to represent indigenous flora and fauna such as genda, kamal, mor, and gulab, fabrics meant for royalty portrayed non-indigenous flowers such as tall tulips, irises and poppies, interspersed with smaller butis of rose buds. 

The late eighteenth century also saw the emergence of the European cabbage rose as a popular motif in Indian textiles. Another widely used buta is the teardrop—or mango-shaped kairi/keri buta, also known as the mankolam, which is used along with symbols such as swastika and om as well as indigenous birds and flowers such as peacocks, parrots and lotuses. This buta is popularly used in Kanchipuram sarees in Tamil Nadu.

Today, butas are used in a variety of Indian textiles such as shawls, sarees, bedspreads, cushion covers, ghagras and cholis, among other garments. Specific floral butas also appear in Bagru and Sanganeri prints, Benarasi brocades, Ashavali sarees and Pashmina shawls.

Gilded gold: Gyaser

A silk brocade fabric decorated with gold and silver threads, gyaser (also known as gos-chen in Ladakh) is used in religious rituals in Buddhist communities and is characterised by a discontinuous supplementary weft pattern.

Weaving has sacred and mythical associations in Ladakh, with sacred textiles believed to grant protection and blessings to the person wearing it. It is also associated with fertility and procreation, with the textiles and the loom representing sexual union and the creation and protection of life. Thus, the weaving of sacred textiles such as gyaser was not undertaken by monks but would be imported from China, Tibet and eventually from the looms in Benares. 

While there are no written records indicating the introduction of the fabric to India, visual records suggest that the trade and use of gyaser in the country began circa tenth century CE during the Namgyal dynasty of Ladakh (1460–1842), with the textile being one of the items imported to the region from China. Missionaries travelling between Lhasa and Ladakh also brought back brocade samples to their monasteries, usually as unstitched fabric, robes or on the borders of stitched boots.

Gyaser was introduced to Benares (present-day Varanasi) in the mid-nineteenth century by traders from Tibet as well as traders from the Marwari community who had settled in Kalimpong, which had emerged as an important commercial centre between Tibet and India. The gyaser made in Benaras gained popularity in Ladakh and Tibet due to its relatively cheaper costs compared to fabric from China, as well as the cheap cost of labour in Benaras and the higher quality of gold zari and fabric.

By the early-nineteenth century, Benaras had become an important brocade-weaving centre, primarily producing kinkhwab, which was popular in the Mughal court as well as among the royalty in Ladakh. While this fabric was traded to Ladakh via Punjab, Kashmir and Kalimpong, it differed from the gyaser in its lack of Buddhist motifs. Tibetan traders also frequently visited Benares and introduced the gyaser to Benares weavers, which they would imitate. Subsequently, from the mid-nineteenth century onwards, weavers in Benares began producing gyaser featuring Chinese designs and Buddhist motifs.

Trade fluctuated briefly during the 1950s and 1960s due to the closure of international trade routes to Ladakh after India’s independence and following China’s occupation of Tibet, which led to the displacement of several Tibetan communities. Trade from Kashmir and Punjab also slowed, with traders suspending travel to Ladakh. However, demand rose again after the displaced populations from Tibet had resettled across India, where they established monasteries and resumed religious activities. However, the suspension of trade routes was instrumental in driving the nobility and monastic clergy of Ladakh to source gyaser for personal and religious use directly from the weavers of Varanasi.

In Varanasi, gyaser is made primarily in the area of Pili Kothi, which is known for its expensive brocades that incorporate real gold zari thread. The men draw the design on a graph, make the punch cards and dye the threads, and the women are engaged in the preparation of the multi-ply yarn. The weaving is primarily carried out on the jacquard loom, with the punch cards used for the patterning. The cloth is woven to lengths of about twenty-eight inches, with hand-patterning of motifs using metal silver or gold zari.

Due to the sacred associations of the fabric, the design and colour of gyaser have not undergone major changes over the years. The fabric features Buddhist symbols such as the eight lucky signs, the thunderbolt and bell, the lotus, clouds and dragons. In the 1980s, following the Vishwakarma revival effort by the Indian government and collaborations with Martand Singh, gyaser weavers began incorporating newer, more universal designs in the fabric, such as geometric patterns, to appeal to a wider market. Gyaser pieces also began featuring patterns such as the Rusnata (Russian medallion pattern) and the flame pattern, and metallic gyaser that incorporated twill-bound lozenges. More recently, the exhibition ‘Between Land and Sky: Woven Gold from Gyaser Tradition’ (2019) incorporated gyaser into saree designs by Swati Agarwal and Sunaina Jalan.

Today, gyaser is woven primarily in Varanasi, with weavers replacing pure gold and silver threads with synthetic fibres to speed up the weaving process and lower costs. Gyaser woven in Varanasi is supplied to Buddhist communities in India and exported to Himalayan Buddhist countries and prominent Buddhist centres in Southeast Asia, the USA and the UK. It continues to be used in religious rituals, especially in Buddhist monasteries as altar and seat covers, monk robes, mounts for thangkas, decorative borders in hats and stitched boots. It is also used to make loom-woven products for everyday use, such as shawls, cushion covers and floor mats.

Buddhist scrolls: Thangka

A devotional tradition where images of Buddhist deities are painted on scrolls, to gain divine merit and for teaching and meditating, historically, thangka paintings served as visual aids.

The tradition emerged from Nepal in the seventh century and spread to the Himalayan region, significantly Tibet (now Tibet Autonomous Region). Travelling Buddhist teachers would deliver talks on Buddha’s life and teaching and complement their lectures with these painted scrolls. Thangka paintings function as intermediaries between the mortal and divine world; when consecrated in shrines or family altars, they are believed to be occupied by the deity they depict. They are also worshipped as part of public religious ceremonies, and often commissioned as a means of generating spiritual merit. They are also used to guide and enhance meditation.

Derived from the pata paintings of India and practices of drawing mandala into the ground for ritual use, thangkas came to be painted on woven canvas, usually cotton, with bamboo-cane rod pasted on its bottom edge so that it could be rolled. Generally rectangular, the canvas is strung on a bamboo frame, which is stretched onto a wooden frame. It is washed and scrubbed many times and the surface is traditionally coated with chalk, gesso (animal glue) and a base pigment, which is then replaced by a distemper-glue mixture and rubbed with a piece of porcelain or glass until it is smooth. The outlines of deity and composition are then made in charcoal or pencil, according to rules of iconography and iconometry in grids. These pencilled drawings are painted over with a fine brush and later painted in. 

The colours used in painting were sourced naturally from vegetable and mineral pigments and mixed with lime and gluten. The colours used include red, arsenic yellow, vitriol green, carmine vermillion, lapis blue, indigo and gold. The main deity is painted once the background is filled in. When finished, the painted thangka is given a silk brocade border that usually consists of red, yellow and blue fabrics. The thangka also has a finer silk fabric stitched on it to function as a protective curtain. This is usually yellow in colour. Besides being painted, some traditional thangkas were also embroidered or appliqued.

The paintings contain depictions of Buddha and scenes from his life, Buddhist deities, saints and lamas (teachers), divine beings in assembly around the cosmic tree, the Wheel of Life, mandalas, symbolic representations of the universe from canonical texts and horoscopes. Depending on the subject depicted, some thangkas presented the immediate presence of enlightened beings while others showed events from their past and had a narrative. The thangka of Buddha’s First Sermon, for instance, depicts a crucial moment from Buddha’s life where, as prince Siddhartha, he travels with five companions with whom he undergoes extreme deprivation in search of truth. The Sikkim Thangka, created and developed during the rule of the last Chogyal (priest-king) of Sikkim, uses Buddhist imagery to tell the founding myth of Sikkim; three venerated lamas are shown along with the Chogyal in a canvas replete with Tibetan and Sikkimese symbolism. 

The protector deity of Sikkim, Kanchendzonga – a fiery red deity riding a snow lion and holding a banner of victory – is shown along with the Tibetan protector of monasteries, Mahakala – a black deity on a black horse – and the deity of Nagas – local faith of Sikkim – is depicted in white. Events from the past lives of divine beings were also depicted, such as that of the Buddha as Shakyamuni. Besides paintings of enlightened beings, inanimate sacred objects such as stupas, temples and monasteries were also portrayed.

The simplest of compositions would portray a single figure placed at the centre, usually that of the Buddha or a deity. When a composition comprises many sacred figures, attention needs to be paid to make each grouping distinct from one another and to ensure that the identities and positions of the figures are according to iconographic prescriptions. In these complex compositions, the retinue of figures would be smaller and arranged in vertical and horizontal columns, usually painted only in outline (often of gold). Thangkas carrying these depictions would usually not incorporate a background landscape and were painted using either a red or black background and full colour was reserved for the main deity. In another variety of group composition, an assembly of figures is depicted without any main figure – such as in depictions of the eighty-four siddhas (great masters) or the sixteen arhats (elders).

The tradition has changed significantly over time. While some monasteries continue to train lamas in the art form, most thangka painters now are artisans who have received training in the art and produce them for both commercial and religious purposes. The use of acrylic paints and synthetic fabrics has become common. Consequently, thangka paintings serve not just as highly revered objects but also as decorative items now.

The ubiquitous Tree of life

A popular motif used in textile design, handicrafts and fine arts depicting a tree with emanating branches, is called Tree of Life. It draws from the symbolism of the primordial tree as is present in cultures of Asia, Africa, Europe, and Oceania. The symbol depicts an upright tree with distinctive branches shooting off from it, sometimes bare and sometimes laden with leaves, fruits and flowers. 

In India, the Tree of Life comes from several sources such as the Bodhi tree under which Buddha received enlightenment; the Peepal and Banyan trees associated with Hindu mythology; and as the tree of immortality alluded to in Islam. The Tree of Life symbol was used as a decorative biomorphic motif as early as the mid-sixteenth century. For instance, in the Sidi Saiyyed Mosque in Ahmedabad (pictured below), a carved stone window dating to 1573 showcases a set of finely drawn trees. The symbol also features on a mirror frame designed in the Mughal court in the 17th18th century, where the mirror’s jade frame is inlaid with gold stems and leaves, buds of rubies, diamonds and emerald.

The Tree of Life was featured on chintz, silks and printed cloth and has been depicted using techniques ranging from resist-dyeing methods like batik, block printing, mordant painting, handweaving and embroidery. The Portuguese, the Dutch and then the British East India Companies not only traded the fabric but also used it in South-east Asia as currency to exchange for spices. Hence, the symbol travelled through the world and took on many variations. For instance, the motif of tumpal—an isosceles triangle arranged one after the other on a fabric’s border—wasn’t found among the motifs in use in the Indian mainland and is conjectured to have been incorporated to suit the tastes of the Indonesian market, where the design has a long history of appreciation. 

Another example is the conception of phaa nung, a palmette design covered with gold gilt that was made for the Thai court and fused the style of kalamkari, the architectural niche of mihrab and the design of Tree of Life along with that of floral bouquet. In Europe, through the influence of the British East India Company, the symbol was depicted on large cotton bed coverings known as pampalores, tent panels and later as wall hangings and table linens. Complementing the European interest in chinoiserie, China produced wallpapers and silk wallcoverings modelled after Indian pampalores.

Today, Tree of Life is a one of the commonly used motifs in handwoven fabrics like Banarasi, Chanderi, and Jamdani and is also used to decorate the border of a saree apart from featuring on a wide variety of other garments. The motif is no longer limited to large scale depictions or as currency for trading but continues to be popular in the textile industry within India.

The MAP of Knowledge

Sign up for the MAP Academy's free online course, Modern & Contemporary Indian Art, authored by Dr Beth Citron and developed in partnership with Terrain.art. Through engaging videos, illustrated texts and interactive quizzes, the course introduces a range of artists such as Amrita Sher-Gil, Zarina Hashmi and Sudhir Patwardhan, and explores a trajectory of key figures, artworks and pivotal moments in modern history. Spanning the late-19th century to the present day, it also examines artistic responses to several shifting socio-political forces of the time. 

This article has been written by the research and editorial team at the MAP Academy. Through its free knowledge resources—Encyclopedia of Art, Online Courses, and Stories—the MAP Academy encourages knowledge building and engagement with the region's visual arts. Follow them on Instagram to learn more about art histories from South Asia.