The sculptures frequently referred to as Gandharan art present us with some of the world’s earliest visual scenes from the Buddha’s life, depictions of bodhisattvas and Buddhist monastic traditions. In western-based academia, in the 19th and 20th centuries, these ancient stupa sculptures and reliefs became famous for their remarkable naturalistic style of human portraiture – a style that to many scholars appeared directly reminiscent of ancient Greek and Roman sculpture. In Gandharan Art and the Classical World: A Short Introduction, Peter Stewart takes on the difficult task to touch upon the complexity of Gandharan art within a concise and accessible academic introduction. As he reminds us early on, Stewart’s own expertise is classical Mediterranean art history and this is also the perspective that the book focuses on: the relationship between Gandharan art and Mediterranean classicism as observed through the eyes of an expert of the latter. Art historical studies of Gandharan art today, as Stewart points out, are still driven by the same essential question that has ‘puzzled and preoccupied researchers since the earliest studies of Gandharan art in the nineteenth century: why does Gandharan art seem to have drawn so extensively from the art of ancient Greece and Rome? (pp. iii)’.
The book is concise and divided into three main topical chapters, with Chapter 1 introducing the geographical area and original Buddhist context of Gandharan sculpture. But this section in fact turns to classical interpretation from the onset: the ‘Apolline character’ of the Buddha (pp. 16) is discussed before further attention is paid to Buddhist typology or the origins of the main Buddhist traditions. The practice of dāna and pradakṣiṇa date all the way back to Vedic times and formed a fundamental basis for religious practices throughout the Subcontinent, which included Buddhism as well as Hinduism and Jainism; these essential rituals revolved around the Buddhist stupas and their practice is frequently depicted on the relief panels that encased the stupas themselves.[1] However, pradakṣiṇa is mentioned only once in the book (pp. 9) and translated simply as ‘circumambulation’, leaving out its complex and deep-rooted religious and cultural meanings; the practice of dāna is never mentioned. Yet an in-depth knowledge of these practices would be necessary for the identification of many of the figurative scenes displayed in these Gandharan stupa reliefs, in their original Buddhist context. The specific colourings and clothing types worn by the Buddha, bodhisattvas, monks and worshippers also rely strongly on these very specific rituals: the ancient Buddhist texts list detailed requirements for physical appearances of these figures , which are known as the 32 major characteristics and 80 secondary characteristics, of which the Jataka tales and the Milindapañha (2nd–1st centuries BCE) offer some of the earliest-known examples.[2] Recent scientific studies of paint pigments have shown that the majority of colours used were orange, red and yellow for clothing, which is in direct alignment with these specific Buddhist traditions, and visually they would have struck a very recognisable image with current Buddhist traditions across Central and East Asia.[3] But these considerations are absent in the book; the original paint and gilding are mentioned once (pp. 9) and described only as ‘polychromy’. In this way, the first chapter sets the tone for the book: the perceived reminiscence between Buddhist sculpture from the Gandhara region and the visual styles of the classical Mediterranean is presented as automatically inherent, and this premise is entirely rooted in the perceived style of the individual sculptures, rather than analysis of their original contexts.
However, Chapter 2 (pp. 34-56) brings more clarity on the book’s intention: it does not approach Gandharan art as a category of archaeological materials or data points for historical information, but as an interpretative framework. This second chapter showcases Stewart’s knowledge of Gandharan scholarship, and this is clearly where the strength of the book should be sought. While not critically reviewing classical Gandharan scholarship, the overview of the development of art historical Gandharan studies will be helpful and accessible for students as well as for those of general interest.
Stewart appears to make an effort to discourage the use of the 19th-century term ‘Graeco-Buddhist’ to avoid suggesting the cultural dependency that it proposed in nineteenth-century scholarship (pp. 37). However, he supplements this with the observation that the term does not cover the full scope of influence, i.e. the Roman aspect, and concludes the discussion with the following statement: ‘There is some justification for criticism, yet however one looks at it, the classical aspect of Gandharan art is inescapable’ (pp. 38), thereby citing the ‘Apolline appearance of the Buddha’, the classical garments worn by figures in the stupa reliefs, the appearance of ‘Corinthian columns’ in relief panels, the perceived presence of classical deities and mythical figures (‘the classical configuration of Buddhist visual stories’), and the overall naturalistic sculpting style as the defining factors and evidence (pp. 38-39). In this way, the classical interpretation of the Gandharan sculptures is presented simultaneously as the evidence that validates that same classical interpretation of the sculptures in the first place.
Despite these observations on Graeco-Buddhist terminology, the chapter makes widespread use of terms such as ‘Indo-Greek’ and ‘Graeco-Iranian’ without critique. The language used to denote and describe the highlighted sculptures and reliefs is classically charged throughout: a winged, bearded figure is firmly identified as ‘Atlas’ even along with the acknowledgement that in classical sculpture Atlas is never shown to be winged (pp.21), and with no mention of the garuda-winged (often bearded) deities and mythological entities that are well-known from both Buddhist and Hindu traditions.[4] In a similar vein, yakshis are equated with classical nymphs (pp.24), without elaboration on the complex appearance and significance of yakshis (female) and yakshas (male) in the many and widespread mythological traditions across the ancient Subcontinent.
The persistent usage of classical vocabulary is particularly evident in the descriptions of clothing worn by figures depicted in the Gandharan stupa reliefs, especially because these references to approximate Greek examples are cited as evidence for the classical interpretations of the sculpted scenes. The Greek himation robe is described as ‘the inspiration for the Buddha’s own monastic robe’ (pp. 41-42), even though this does not align with the detailed descriptions and characteristics of the ubhayansikha sanghati, the Buddha’s highly specific and often-described robe, as was worn after reaching Enlightenment, covering both shoulders and painted in bright orange, all which described in the aforementioned 32 major characteristics in the early Buddhist texts and sutras.[5] The ‘arm-in-a-sling’ pose that Stewart finds reminiscent of the Greek himation or Roman toga, is used here to refer to reliefs depicting the traditional Buddhist monks’ robe sanghati (a folded garment of full-body length draped over one or both shoulders) as well as to the uttariya garment that was worn widely across the ancient Subcontinent and is depicted frequently as the garb of bodhisattvas as well as devotees and donors participating in pradakṣiṇa (torso-length robe quite narrowly draped across one arm and shoulder), combined with antariya, (a folded skirt that could be loosely or tightly wrapped, quite similar to dhoti) and kayabandhi (predecessor of the cummerbund) with nada knot.[6] These are all worn along with pagri (turbans and half-turbans), heavy necklaces, upper and lower arm bracelets and earrings (worn by both male and female figures), all closely matching numerous examples of wall paintings, sculptures, and textual descriptions of ancient Indian clothing styles from across the ancient Subcontinent.[7] However, none of these historical terms, contexts, or sources are mentioned in the present book – yet the persisting classical interpretations of the scenes depicted in the stupa reliefs seem to rely, at least for a very significant part, on their visual association with Graeco-Roman clothing styles, such as they have been and are observed by classically-trained scholars.
In the final section of the chapter, Stewart addresses the problem of chronology and acknowledges that a direct comparison between Buddhist sculpture from the 1st centuries BCE-3rd centuries CE and classical Greek sculpture of the 5th century BCE is problematic. He touches upon the lack of (both archaeological and textual) evidence of direct influence between the classical Mediterranean and ancient Gandhara (i.e., lack of workshops, exchange of techniques or mention of such interactions), but concludes that ‘absence of evidence is not evidence of absence’ and that ‘the paucity of evidence linking the Hellenistic world to Gandharan art is suggestive’ because ‘there are good reasons to believe that they may have been influenced by Hellenistic Greek or Roman art’ (pp.48-49); and once again, these ‘good reasons’ are the visual resemblances that (classical) scholars have perceived between Gandharan and Mediterranean sculptures. Stewart never brings this core premise of classical influence into question, and his suggestion to solve the chronological issue of Gandharan art is to turn the focus to Roman influence (from the 1st century BCE onwards) rather than to earlier Greek examples (pp. 52-54). This does not alleviate the lack of contextual evidence: the only existing link between the Roman sarcophagi that he proposes to have inspired Gandharan Buddhist reliefs is visual perception. As a result, the chapter concludes with a treatise on academic trends concerning Hellenism, and the call for a better awareness of Roman influence. The concluding paragraph on ‘Gandharan Art and its Asian Contexts’ (pp. 54-56) is very brief, only 391 words in length, and no concrete examples are given. Instead, that paragraph and the chapter as a whole conclude with the statement that ‘it is very unlikely that the ancient users and views of such imagery had any notion of its ancestry in the art of the Graeco-Roman west—it is the privilege of modern art historians to be able to detect such global connections across periods and cultures’ (pp. 56). This, first of all, presents the classical nature of Gandharan stupa sculptures as a given fact rather than as the art historical interpretation that it is, and secondly, it assumes that people across ancient Asia were unaware of this, without further explanation or evidence for that assumption.
In the book’s brief concluding Chapter 3 (pp. 57-62), some attention is paid to Gandharan art today, but this includes mostly anecdotal reference to collecting and forgeries. The section dedicated to the heritage of Gandharan art (pp. 57-58) is remarkably concise and general in tone. Throughout the book, only scarce mention is made of the colonial British practices that permeated the original excavations of Gandharan Buddhist archaeological sites up until the mid-20th century, and as a result of which today the best preserved and most monumental examples of Gandharan stupa relief sculpture are found in British, European and US museums, after having been deliberately removed from their original archaeological contexts. The possible impact of British colonial practices on the original classical interpretations of Gandharan art is also cut short early on: ‘the fascination with the classical appearance of Gandharan sculpture went deeper and wider than that’ (pp. 37), and after this conclusion the question is not raised again. Yet, if we speak of the heritage of Gandharan art, then we must also acknowledge that these Gandharan stupa sculptures are actually still part of the material culture of a large and living religion, and that they still hold significance as such for Buddhist practitioners today. To Buddhists today, debates about the interpretations of the style of these stupa reliefs are, in fact, irrelevant; the functionality of the reliefs, as places to practice pradakṣiṇa and even a basic form of dāna (e.g. incense offerings) would be their main concern, but these sculptures are not accessible as religious heritage to Buddhist practitioners today. These two aspects (academic interpretations and religious heritage practices) need not to be mutually exclusive. These are the kind of considerations that we need to be aware of whenever we speak of archaeological and cultural heritage, and for Gandharan art, due to its complex history and layered contexts, these are questions that should not be avoided, but that the present book does not include in its treatment of heritage.
In sum, Stewart’s enthusiasm for Gandharan art is evident throughout this brief book, and so is his expertise in this field. It provides a solidly concise introduction to classical Gandharan scholarship, but unfortunately it does not take this opportunity to highlight different frameworks for approaching the same sculptures, or a critical approach to the tradition itself. The book quickly turns into a treatise that actively works to convince the reader that the classical interpretation of Gandharan art is ‘inescapable’ (pp. 38), and the evidence that it offers for this inescapability is, likewise, the perceived classical style of the sculptures. This chiastic structure seems to hamper not only our understanding of ancient Indian Buddhist archaeology in its original contexts, but also of the complex reality of Greek and Roman entanglements in ancient India.
The resources and bibliography the book concludes with (pp. 63-80) are a selective but nonetheless solid offering for students who wish to take this introduction as a first step towards exploring the question the book itself poses ‘What is Gandharan art?’, rather than automatically treating the overview of Gandharan classicism as the answer to that question.
Bibliography
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Notes
[1] Singh 1996; Milligan 2019; Shimada 2012; Milligan 2016; Van Aerde 2018.
[2] Pesala 1998; Appleton & Shaw 2015; Shaw 2006.
[3] Zaminga et al. 2019; Pannuzi et al. 2019; Lluveras-Tenorio et al. 2022.
[4] Zimmer 1974, 75-76; cf. Haldar 1977; Dougherty 2022.
[5] A still entirely coloured example of a seated Gandharan Buddha (originally from Taxila) wearing a bright orange ubhayansikha sanghati can be found in the National Museum of Delhi, Acc. Nr. 49.20/8.
[6] Motīcandra et al. 1973; Alkazi 1983; Krishnan 2009.
[7] Ramratan et al. 2023. Cf. Van Aerde 2022, 190-191; Van Aerde 2018.