Back to Thanguan

Once I got checked into my room here in Boudhanath, I went off to the market to do a bit of shopping and along the way ran into my old friend and classmate Phuntsok, a monk from Bhutan. He told me Jiwan had been asking about when I was arriving, that Jiwan was going to Kavre to start painting work on the temple where all three of us, plus another monk, had done sketching work in February.

While waiting for my dinner to be served, I called Jiwan and found to my regret that he was leaving the next day. Having just unpacked and being worn out from the long trip to Kathmandu, I wished him well. I didn't want to have to repack and make the less than relaxing trip out to the village of Thanguan. But as I ate my dinner I began to reconsider. Here was an excellent opportunity to spend a week doing intensive painting practice under the personal guidance of a skilled painter, an opportunity that is perhaps not granted often or to many. I would, I thought, be very foolish to pass it up. And so after dinner I called and told Jiwan that if he wouldn't mind having me along, I would very much like to go with him. We agreed to put off our departure for one day and left the following afternoon after lunch at Jiwan's home in Bhaktapur.

Assuming Jiwan would have finished the painting during the six months since I had left Nepal, I never imagined I'd see Thanguan again. Returning felt like something of a homecoming, seeing again the place where I established some small confidence in my drawing abilities. I will always remember that week of work, that small country temple, and my colleagues very fondly.

The Himalayas from Thanguan

Everything was much the same as I had left it, except that at the end of summer life was evident in the plants, flowers, and abundant insect population. There was much more color than in February, and much more sound, from the buzzing of bees, the humming of flies and dragonflies, the chirping of cicadas and crickets, and the clicking and clacking of geckos. Heavy showers and cold winds blew in on short notice, and the precipitation left more than one rainbow and some incredible sunsets.














In the temple, Jiwan had finished most of the sketching and was now ready to start painting. In fact he had already started and our first task was completing the banner of protective deities that circled the uppermost part of the three walls that we were to work on. We began by finishing the clouds at the very top of the banner. Using a stencil and black chalk, we outlined the clouds, penciled on top of and then wiped off the chalk, and afterwards painted on top of the pencil in a shade lighter than the background. This was then outlined in white. We next went around all three walls and added a shiny gold paint to the deities, filled in their eyes, and completed a few other finishing touches before covering the whole thing in varnish, which would seal the paint and provide a cleanable finish. This occupied two days.

Jiwan painting clouds (note deities' eyes not yet painted)

On the third we set out to paint the sky wrapping around all three walls, the background to the large deities and mandalas. This is, as Jiwan said, one of the most difficult jobs of the entire project. It requires not only that the painter be able to skillfully blend shades, but also to do so quickly, as the blending process takes place while the paint is still wet through short bursts of rapid arm movement. The work has to be completed in segments, which adds the additional difficulty of matching each segment to the previous. I've done a little bit of this on paper, but the scale involved is a completely different experience. Jiwan allowed me to do the first coat, after which he applied a much more refined finish.

Wetting the wall

Finished second coat (completed guardian deity visible above)

This was finished by lunch, after which we started working on individual deities. I began by painting the landscape, a process similar to the sky but much simpler as it requires only two colors, light green and white. I got this far before I was overtaken by a fit of sneezing. My throat became raw and I could no longer breath through my nose. Jiwan had throughout the past three days been sneezing now and then, was also having trouble breathing and had a scratchy throat. This was, he said, a reaction to the paint, one he previously experienced. It finally caught up with me on this third day. I sat outside for a while to relax and recuperate and during that time a couple of other painters from the village stopped by to lend a hand. Both were, Jiwan said, thangka painters with little experience painting temples, explaining perhaps why they didn't stay long. Once they left I went back in and started working on shading rocks and lining leaves in the trees, but was again overcome by sneezing and so left off work for the rest of the afternoon.

Village painters (with landscape visible)

That night I slept poorly. I couldn't breathe except through my mouth, my throat was raw, and I developed a hacking cough. Most mornings I am up before sunrise, but this morning I wanted nothing more than to sleep. There also something of a dilemma about what to do. It seems my reaction was caused by the paint. I couldn't be 100% sure of that. Thanguan, like most of Nepal, is a dusty place and that could just as easily have set me off. But usually sneezing caused by dust is intermittent, passes quickly and doesn't cause a sore throat. As Jiwan was experiencing much the same and has had similar experiences he attributes to paint, the best guess is that it was in fact the paint. And if that was so, I didn't see how I could go back to painting without some serious protective gear. It would be like roulette, waiting for the same thing to happen again, with possibly worse results than the first episode. But calling off the work so soon after we had arrived seemed so disappointing, especially as Jiwan had rearranged his schedule and as it is not so easy getting to Thanguan.

I explained all this to Jiwan and without a second thought he offered to take me back to Kathmandu that very morning. But as I was so tired and worn out from a restless night, I really didn't feel much like the 90 minute hike down the mountain and the crowded, bouncing three-hour bus ride. We agreed that we would stay the day. Jiwan could do a little more work and I could rest up for the journey back. I spent the day sleeping, reading, and listening to music, and the next morning after tea we started off down the mountain.

My sinuses have been fine since. No more sneezing, sore throat or cough. But I have been greatly disappointed in having to give up the work so soon and to have put Jiwan to such inconvenience. It seems that if I ever want to such work again I'm going to have to invest in some protective gear, including a mask, goggles, and gloves. If there are any painters reading this with suggestions for particular types or brand of gear, I'd be very happy to hear from you.


From tomorrow, it's back to the classroom. Though perhaps not for long. On the way to the internet cafe where I am posting this, I ran into a classmate who told me all of next week is a school holiday! When I looked incredulous, he insisted I ask at the office, as if I couldn't believe him. I can. I just don't want to.

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Thanguan 4

Here are a few remaining photos from Tangaun, beginning with a couple of shots of the lama, the 85 year old village priest. The portrait was done one sunny day when nothing much seemed to be happening at the temple. Jiwan was taking some photos for him, but I'm not sure what for.

The other shot of the lama was taken during a puja offered the day after we arrived. My bag of bananas and oranges, that I had brought into the temple for Jiwan and myself, was presumed to be an offering and was afterwards distributed to all the locals that were hanging around the temple.





This woman is carrying firewood. It seems the villagers spend quite a lot of time scavenging for, cutting, and collecting fire wood. Sometimes you'll walk through a stand of trees and notice that all the branches below three meters have been removed. As I mentioned in a previous post, almost all cooking is done on wood stoves.



The village celebrated Losar, the lunar new year, at the school ground. A stage and tent were erected and a lengthy talent show was preceded by interminable speechifying by representatives from a number of political parties, each one of which tried to talk louder and longer than the one preceding him. This photo shows mostly women and children. The mean showed up after dark. So did the cold. I don't think I've been so cold since I lived in Wisconsin.


As soon as kids see your camera, they start posing.



Finally, on our last morning we made a few offerings of our own. Dechen and Phuntsuk made a small puja to dedicate the work we had done and afterwards Jiwan and Phuntsok hung fresh prayer flags.

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Thanguan 3

We spent our days in the temple drawing. After dark there was often no electricity, which came to the village only 5 years ago, so we spent our evenings watching the stars for as long as we could stand the wind that would start to blow at dusk. Otherwise we'd spend the night chatting, huddled under our blankets, the wind whistling around the walls of our small stone and clay building just next to the temple. The structure was a simple rectangular box divided in two, the back half used for sleeping, the front as a kitchen. A small toilet was attached to the outside, and all were covered with logs, thatch, and on top a tin sheet to keep the rain off.

Our home for 5 nights (from the rear of the temple, pictured right)

the artists' suite

Except for electricity, which is in short supply all across Nepal, resources were scarce in Thanguan. There is no natural water source, requiring water to be directed from a neighboring mountain. The morning seems to start with someone from each home brining water containers to the village hose, where one person directs a slow trickle into the buckets. On at least one day, there was no water at all.

On that occasion, grandma, the temple caretaker, slung a bucket in her straw basket and headed off down the mountain to find a spring. At 73 years old, its amazing she can walk up and down the mountain (and in nothing but some flimsy sandals), let alone carry 15 liters of water on her back. But she did. She also did all our cooking and cleaning up, preparing two meals a day (at around noon and again just after dark) as well as morning and afternoon tea. She was a sweet old lady who like most of the villagers spoke only Nepali and Tamang, but who had actually traveled a bit, to India and Bhutan.

granny and the guys

As there are no roads into the village, everything has to be carried up the mountain, which is the most likely explanation for why the villagers don't use LPG for cooking. Instead it seems most homes use wood stoves, like the one you can see in the photo here, taken on the occasion of the New Year's dinner we prepared ourselves. It seems my classmates have lungs of steel. I had to flee the room and otherwise stood outside and fanned the smoke.

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Thanguan 2

Jiwan surprised me on our first working day when he said he would like me to draw a set of 35 Buddhas on a wall space about 2.5 meters high and 2 meters wide.

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Our workspace: Jiwan to the left of the window, me to the right

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I was expecting to paint simple things, like vines of flowers along the borders of the walls. I wasn't expecting to compose such a large piece of work. But as I've had lots of practice drawing Buddhas, it wasn't such a huge departure. All I had to do was draw larger than I've been accustomed.

the central figure, first drawn

Once I completed the central figure, Dechen and Phuntsok arrived and the three of us together completed the other 34 smaller Buddhas, using a stenciling technique to quickly reproduce identical images. Once the Buddhas were completed, we then added in a similar fashion the seats and then using hand-made compasses the sun and moon.

stenciling in charcoal dust

pencilling over the charcoal

Jiwan, meanwhile, was composing a painting of Guru Rimpoche and his 26 disciples.

In the same amount of time, he completed 27 different figures while the three of us completed only two originals and 33 copies.

(almost) completed 35 Buddhas

Jiwan's Guru Rinpoche & 26 Disciples (minus one, I believe)

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Thanguan 1

Last week I lived for six days in a Tamang village in a remote mountain area. I did my first real art work there, saw a shooting star, bathed in a mountain spring, and attended the village New Year festivities.

It was an amazing week.

And it was made possible by Jiwan, an upper classman at art school who comes from a Tamang family of painters, including his father, who operates a thangka studio in Bhaktapur. His ancestral village in Kavre recently completed construction of a new temple and was in search of a painter to do the interior walls, typically painted in the style and form employed in thangka. Jiwan was asked to do the work as a kind of professional coming-out project. In turn, he invited some of his classmates to help with the work and I was grateful to be included among them.

Grateful because I'm still a first year student who until now has done all his art work in the classroom on slate and paper. It's all been practice work. But here was an opportunity to put lines and color on a wall, art that will remain for perhaps decades, that will be a part of the religious life of the community for two or three generations. I saw this as a very rare opportunity, a fortuitous culmination of the practice I've done over the past seven months. And while at first I was worried I might not have much to do, I returned with greater confidence in my art.

The village of Thanguan is at 60 kilometers not all that far from Kathmandu. But in Nepal that's the equivalent of a couple hundred in countries that have roads. Getting there is on a good day a half-day journey requiring a taxi ride to the city bus station, two bus rides, and a three hour hike up the mountains.

The view along the road to Thanguan

Once there it is stunningly beautiful. As there are no roads, there are no cars or motorcycles. The air and water are crisp and clean. There is none of the garbage piles so common in Kathmandu. There are no neon signs or bright lights and the night sky is alive with stars. It was a pleasure each evening to simply sit and watch the sky; one evening we were rewarded with the site of a streaking meteor. The views during the day were equally spectacular. The temple sits on the highest rise of the mountain and commands a view of a river valley on one side and the Himalayas on the other.

The temple front

From the village below, the temple at the top of the rise

The river valley on one side

And the Himalaya on the other

Jiwan and I arrived on Wednesday and on Friday two more classmates arrived. Phuntsok and Dechen are monks from Bhutan and together with Jiwan were wonderful companions for the week. They repeatedly surprised me with their solicitousness. I suppose as the old man I was afforded special consideration; or perhaps it was because I was the outsider; or perhaps simply that my friends are such lovely people. I was given choice of beds and number of blankets; I was allowed to use the scaffolding when drawing; no one entered the temple while I was doing my morning meditation, even though they were up and would otherwise have started working; when riding the bus,

Jeff, Jiwan, Phuntsok, Dechen

they were concerned about my comfort, even though we were all freezing by the last leg of the journey; both going up and coming down the mountain, all three offered at different times to carry my bag; and perhaps most touchingly, I was treated as a fellow artist and never made to feel that my skills were less developed or my contribution worth less.

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