As the promotional release says, priceless artifacts from the permanent collections of the National Museums of the ten ASEAN nations compose "a pictorial historical and cultural narrative from the perspective of the region."
It reads further:
"The book documents the common cultural heritage of the region and traces the diversity of indigenous traditions that have evolved over the centuries. The story of Southeast Asia is woven around the four basic elements of stone, metal, clay and fiber, from which much of the material culture of the region is derived.
"The artifacts featured in the book are among the prized possessions from the national museums of Brunei Darussalam, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam.
"Accompanied by beautiful photographs of the various museum artifacts, Museum Treasures... reflects the spirit of unity that ASEAN as a group embodies, and demonstrates the kinship ties that Southeast Asia as a region shares."
Thanks to Tina Colayco who produced this collectible, we received an advance copy of the handsome tome that was first launched last November in Cambodia and last month in Singapore.
Colayco it was, too, as head of ArtPostAsia, who assembled the proverbial stellar cast of "old Asia hands" to serve as a creative team in putting the book together.
These include the writer Bronwyn Campbell, an Australian curator now working with the Lao National Museum; the creative director, Leonard Lueras, who’s based in Bali, Indonesia; and photographers Ken Cheong from Singapore and our very own Neal Oshima.
Cheong photographed the artifacts from the national museums of Singapore, Brunei Darussalam, Malaysia, and Indonesia, while Oshima took care of those from the national museums of Cambodia, Myanmar, Laos, the Philippines, Thailand and Vietnam.
To hear Tina tell it, Neal had to be flown out twice, and endure a backbreaking, blitz tour of five neighboring capitals. Thankfully, the preparatory work had all been done, consisting of voluminous correspondence with the directors and personnel of the national museums.
Oshima’s work, always top-class, is further honored with a photo intermezzo that is a 16-page portfolio of formal black-and-white photographs, a sort of mid-book breaker spelling relief from the overwhelming majesty of the full-color photos.
In the first set of color images, our celebrated terra cotta Manunggul jar is magnificently bathed in light and shadow, while set against a black background. Oshima’s B&W rendition brings us closer to the detail of the two quaint figures on the boat headed to the afterlife.
We swell with pride as well over the inclusion of the Maitum anthropomorphic jar from Sarangani, the Tagakaolo jacket of abaca and shell, the death mask of gold from Oton, Iloilo, a kampilan or Maranao sword, the kurab-a-palong or Maranao armor of metal and animal hide, and the paleographs from Butuan and Laguna, in silver and copper, respectively – among many others that cry for wondrous regard in the halls of our National Museum.
We note how our country’s treasures find more representation in the "Clay" and "Fiber" sections, while Stone and Metal appear to find richer fulfillment among our Asian mainland neighbors with an older, perhaps more coherent cultural influence.
The intricate bronze figures from Vietnam are particularly impressive. Krises or kerises, bronze bells, a gold buckle and a Javanese oil lamp are among the worthies of Indonesia and Malaysia, while splendid stone carvings are a veritable cache from Cambodia, Myanmar, Laos and Thailand.
Some examples of wood sculpture trace their provenance to Indonesia and Brunei. Initially we wonder why "Wood" was not added as a thematic section in the book, until we realize that the material is covered under "Fiber."
Another question comes to mind, addressing our own quirk of colonial history. Did we have a nascent bell-making tradition at all before the Spanish came? Enviously regarding the bells cast in Vietnam and Myanmar, we note the distinct elements of orientalia, something that seems lacking in our utterly Castilian belfries.
The profusion of Buddha figures provides a lavish procession; never have we seen such varied representations of Buddha gathered together in a volume, with their impressive multiplicity of positions (from standing and walking to lotus-posed, meditating, earth-touching, in a triad, adorned, or subduing Mara) and materials (Khmer sandstone to Thai, Cambodian and Laotian bronze, or lacquered and gilded as in Myanmar). Ganesha, Devi and Avalokiteshvara are among the other familiar figures in the pan-Asiatic pantheon.
Chinese wares are of course what constitute most of the offerings from the museums of Singapore, Malaysia and Brunei.
Individually and collectively, the photographs are nothing short of stunning, and the design work elegantly enhances their presentation. Credit must be given here to Lueras, an old friend of ours with whom we share curious memories of Manila and Singapore in the ’80s. Evidently, he hasn’t lost his magic touch when it comes to book design and production, despite some fat-cat days luxuriating in a posh resort in Bali (which he manages, oh how he manages).
Editor Shirlene Noordin must also be commended. Hardly any word is loose or misdirected in the superb text, from the Introduction to the running essay on the four sections on "Stone," "Metal," "Clay" and "Fiber," to the "Timeline" and informative captions.
In the section on "Fiber," Campbell writes:
"It is natural to exploit the potential of local products in daily life, and in the embellishment of daily life that is so important to traditional cultures. Wood-carving was a technique used for the glorification of the spiritual life, but also used to great effect in the trappings of power, the courtly items with which royalty surrounded itself and made itself splendid.
"Wood-carvings also often play integral roles in the traditional practice of many religions, as a focus for worship, or as a mediator with the gods. Instructed to do so by the gods, the Ifugao culture of the Philippines carve magnificent male and female binullul figures that are inhabited by deities that protect their granaries and ensure a bountiful rice crop."
In a rare instance of inconsistency, a caption on the same page has it as binullol; these we know as the simpler bulol. Another aside: for local nitpickers who might be inclined to place a sic somewhere in the quote above, it’s British English that’s used in the book, which may explain why "Ifugao culture" turns into a collective plural form, like a football team.
On page 157 is a simple photo, a floating image on the white page, of a Jebak Puyuh or bird cage/trap made of ribu-ribu vine and rattan, from the collection of the Department of Museums and Antiquities of Malaysia. It is perhaps the most eloquent manifestation of the artistry inherent in the human (read: Asean) spirit.
The vine is woven in a herringbone pattern for the soft encasement that stands on a simple wood flooring. But it is not as simple as we would imagine, for its edges are carved in symmetrical design, and above the flimsy-looking bars and mesh trapdoor, arching as high as the woven handstrap for carrying what is otherwise a purely utilitarian object, is an elaborately carved wooden lintel of sorts.
Now why would a carpenter commissioned to produce a simple trapping device have to embellish it, when all it will do is sit in some remote spot of jungle to await a bird? Surely the intricate carvings and weave patterns cannot help in attracting the prey.
The reason is because the carpenter has become a craftsman, no notch lower than an artist. And in our region of Southeast Asia, for centuries this spirit of creativity has produced a continuum of resplendence.
Marvelous and lavish are the art and artifacts herein displayed, while the book, finally, is regally, quietly exultant over our myriad treasures and one common, uncommonly triumphant spirit.