Monday, August 16, 2010

What the pots tell about the past

This article, written by Chris Baker, was published by BTHE MING GAP AND SHIPWRECK CERAMICS IN SOUTHEAST ASIAangkok Post's Outlook section on 16/08/2010.

It is a review of the book, "THE MING GAP AND SHIPWRECK CERAMICS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware" by Roxanna Maude Brown, printed by The Siam Society and River Books, 208pp, 895 baht, ISBN 978-9749863770.

Ceramics have played a rather niche role in the history of Siam. The ceramics trade was not mentioned at all in the royal chronicles, and hardly at all by foreign visitors whose commercial interests lay elsewhere. The study of ceramics has largely been left to art historians who focus on design. Yet anyone who has cycled along the Yom River in Si Satchanalai past the amazing number of old kilns, ranging from burrows in the riverbank to great multi-chambered brick constructions (some now made into splendid museums), must wonder about the larger historical significance of this trade.

Roxanna Brown had begun to probe that significance. This book is her doctoral thesis from UCLA in 2004, accepted for publication by the Siam Society before her sad and senseless death two years ago. The thesis tests the theory that there was a "Ming Gap" - a period from the late 14th to late 16th centuries when a ban on exports from China allowed Southeast Asian production of ceramics to flourish. But the thesis goes far, far beyond answering this single question.

Since 1974, over 120 wrecks have been found with some cargo of Southeast Asian ceramics. A few have been the subject of thorough archaeological studies. Others have been surveyed by private enthusiasts. Many have been looted, with the pots turning up in museums, private collections and flea markets. Brown assembled all the data available on these wrecks, and then devised ingenious methods to organise them into a chronology.

With this data, she offers a precise but complex answer to questions about a Ming Gap. In the last third of the 14th century, when the emperor banned private overseas trade, the proportion of Chinese ceramics in Southeast Asian trade fell from 100 percent to 30-40 percent. It then fell again to only 5 percent through the middle of the 15th century. From 1488 to 1505, there was a sudden flood of Chinese blue-and-white, then another lapse until the export ban was lifted in 1567.

The findings which Brown made along the way to this conclusion are ultimately much more exciting than this exercise in dating. In the past, "experts" dated Siamese ceramics based on design, using a theory that designs became more complex and sophisticated over time. But Brown shows that ceramics of many different types with widely varying complexity of design were found on the very same wrecks. She proposes an outline history of the various kiln sites and their products, and this handful of pages is the highlight of the book.

Vietnamese kilns were the first to move into the gap vacated by the Chinese, but they were soon overtaken by Siamese sites, especially Sawankhalok (Si Satchanalai). In the dying years of the 14th century, potters in Sukhothai and Sawankhalok learned how to paint black designs under a transparent glaze, producing the well-known bowls and plates with fish and floral designs. Then around 1420, Sawankhalok potters discovered much finer clay and learned how to fire at much higher temperatures, resulting in the famous celadon. Sukhothai never replicated these techniques, but continued to churn out products in the old style in much larger quantities than Sawankhalok. For much of the Ming Gap, these products dominated the sea-borne ceramics trade.

In the early 16th century, Sawankalok reverted to the black underglaze, and a new technique combining brown and white glazing. Probably the sources of good clay were in decline, as the ribbon development of kilns along the Yom River suggests. Then in the 1580s, the whole area around Sukhothai and Sawankhalok was depopulated because of the growing conflict with Burma, and the kilns were abandoned. Sing Buri kilns had already established a niche for the production of storage jars, and now widened their repertoire to include many other items. Suphan Buri kilns specialised in large storage jars, often of extraordinary size. One fragment is estimated to have come from a jar with a capacity of 260 litres. A few items come from the Lanna kilns, especially at San Kamphaeng.

Brown's assembly of all the shipwreck data raises a host of new questions. The wrecks are only a random sample of the total maritime shipping, but they hint at the scale of the ceramics trade. Most of the junks were carrying from 5,000 to 15,000 pieces. One European vessel went down in 1751 with 100,000. The total quantities may have been massive. How did the shipments move from the northern kilns? Where were they loaded onto junks? Who controlled or taxed this trade? Who profited? What relationship is there between the rhythms of the ceramics trade and the course of Siam's political history?

Most wrecks were carrying a mixture of goods from different kilns in Siam, perhaps also with some Vietnamese ware, some Chinese pieces, and the odd pot from Burma or beyond. This mixture hints at a complex market structure, possibly with some major exchange centres. Where were they?

The book contains hundreds of photos of ceramic pieces. These are not the exquisitely arty pictures found in glossy magazines, but a scholar's records, sometimes snapped in museums, markets, and quaysides. They show the familiar plates and bowls but also a wonderful variety of storage containers and occasional decorative pieces. On the Sawankhalok celadon alone, the range of designs is breathtaking. These pictures attest to the technical and artistic skills of the potters, but also hint at the complexity and sophistication of the markets which demanded such variety.

Although this book seems to be a technical exercise laid out in charts and tables, the findings are much richer - the result of a feel for the subject that Roxanna Brown had developed over 30 years. The book answers one question but throws up many others which she had only just begun to explore. This book is a fitting memorial to a unique scholar, and a great legacy for all interested in the history of Southeast Asia.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Mor Lam and Monks

Mor lam, is a northeastern Thai tradition that is slowly dying due to the influence of pop music. It would be wonderful if a new generation of Isaan youngsters with talent could add new energy to this lyrical art.

An unforgetable talent that had helped keep this artform current was Pumpuang Duangjan, R.I.P. While there are current artists like Jintara PoonlarpSiriporn Ampaipong, and even a Dutch singer Christy Gibson, these studio-produced mor lam pales in comparison to the excitement and appreciation of a spontaneous talent shown in the live sparing of a mor lam contest or performance among the Isaan people.

I was fortunate enough to witness one such performance at a young age.  Maybe multimillion Thai pop music studio businessmen can be tipped to fund these contests in the Isaan country side, in the way that Nelson Mandela did for South African rugby, as shown in the movie, Invictusnot only to promote the goodwill of Luk Tung, a local musical genre not imported from abroad, but to give a sense of pride in cultural identity of the young, as well as to discover new natural talent.

I had always thought that this musical form is in some ways similar to modern rap, only much more traditional. It challenges its performers to dig up the best use of language and rythm on the spot. The best perform from a memory or repertoire of word play, rythm, rhyme and metaphors. It's what I would call a neobaroque form of entertainment because the musical accompaniment is simple and repetitive yet intuitive and spontaneous. It's a whole performance that engages and pulls in its viewers or in this case audience and listeners.



So what does mor lam performances have to do with monks? 

I just recently read the history of Phra Ajaan Mun Bhuridatta Thera (1870-1949), the most venerable founder of Thailand's famous forest monk tradition. Here's what http://www.accesstoinsight.org/ says,
The unusual style of Phra Ajaan Mun's sermons may be explained in part by the fact that in the days before his ordination he was skilled in a popular form of informal village entertainment called maw lam. Maw lam is a contest in extemporaneous rhyming, usually reproducing the war between the sexes, in which the battle of wits can become quite fierce. Much use is made of word play: riddles, puns, innuendoes, metaphors, and simple playing with the sounds of words. The sense of language that Ajaan Mun developed in maw lam he carried over into his teachings after becoming a monk. Often he would teach his students in extemporaneous puns and rhymes. This sort of word play he even applied to the Pali language, ...
The best of buddhist teachings comes from oral traditions, in the forms of rhetorics, whether in the Tibetan debating or in this case the teachings of humble monks of Isaan origins, that towers above the more conventional Thervada style of Thailand's center. The language of mor lam and the language of forest monk tradition is Lao, which is (central Thais would probably love to deny) the true origin of the Thai language. Acharn Mun and other forest tradition monks had so internalized the teaching of the Buddha, which they had learnt in Pali, but it was practice and practice (of meditation) that allowed them to master the knowledge and thereby able to transmit in simple yet enlightening forms (in Lao) to their students and the common people. 

An interesting note to leave, pondering on oral tradition, links to languages, and preservations of cultures.

Acharn Mun passed away in 1940 at Wat Pa Suthawat, Sakon Nakhon. A small museum was built in his honor where there is an exhibit of his personal belongings and a brief account of his life.

Wax image of Pra Acharn Mun Bhuridatto, 
at Wat Pa Suthawat, Sakon Nakhon