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time was a cock and withstood the temptations of a she-cat, who offered herself to become Buddha's wife in order to kill him.[1]
Men and actions are laid in the equal wave of a lotus stalk which runs across the sculptured frieze. Alternating with the scenes enormous fruits and jewels are represented, which grow out of the lotus tendril. Man and action, the significant parts of the narration are thus, regarding their number and treatment, of the same importance as fruits and jewels. Man and animal, object and plant are of equal value.
There is nothing besides them, no landscape, no background. They grow out of the lotus stalk, or they are supported by it. They are there and grow and include a certain meaning, and the lotus tendril runs further and bears other fruits and tells other stories.
Every form is of equal importance and all together constitute nature without any preference. They are connected by the movement of a wavy line, which bears all of them as if they were its own flowers and fruits. Nature here appears as peaceful harmony of all creatures and a mighty movement runs through it. Nothing hinders it and it gives to everything its particular place.
Every art possesses certain elements, which are frequently repeated. These preferred devices express most intimately the peculiarity of the art. They are typical utterances, just as every man has typical words and movements which express his character very distinctly, and whereby he easily can be recognised. Such a preferred theme of Indian art is the composition of a female figure and a tree.[2]
Many repetitions and variations of this group exist in every epoch of Indian art. The legend says that the Acoka tree blossoms when touched by a woman's foot. Indian art makes them bloom together. Such is the overflow of her exuberant life that she can afford to give it away to the tree. It shapes and bends their limbs and stem and makes them similar. The figures become homogeneous vessels for the unity of life. The tree embraces the woman's figure which is full of movement and surrender and its branches swing in the movement which is originated by her. The group of woman and tree is always produced with unfailing originality, as symbol and realisation of the close and insoluble connection of all creation. Not the sum of external appearance represents nature, but the elementary and deep feeling, which arises from unity.
The symbolism of Indian art is judged to be its essential feature. And therein, one thinks, consists the difficulty to approach Indian art, because the meaning of symbols must be known first. But that is only partly true, because art is always and everywhere symbolical by itself.
The mere existence of a work of art is of no importance as long as it does not suggest a certain meaning to the spectator. The reality of art consists in its significance. A true work of art is the materialisation of an inner experience visualised by a display of forms and colours. The symbolism of the relation of dimensions and of colours, is immediately suggestive and does not need any explanation of its meaning. One feels subconsciously the harmony of forms and mood to which they correspond. Literary symbolism stands apart from them and figures merely as an external attribute. The literary symbolism is no excuse that one does not understand Indian art. All the literary symbols as, for instance, chakra or trisula, the urnā and other lakshanas have a stereotyped meaning and are not connected with the artistic, but with the religious, imagination. It is not less difficult to understand the literary symbolism of Western mediæval art, and to recognise all the different events and the vast number of saints who have their peculiar attributes too.
Indian art was so long reproached with its lack of anatomy until Abanindro Nath Tagore himself had written a small treatise on artistic anatomy. Anatomy, however, as it is understood in the West, that is to say, the science of structure and situation of bones, tendons and muscles, in India stands apart from art, and the artist can spare this knowledge. Yet his figures have, nevertheless, an organic structure, for the scientific character of Indian art does not belong to
