Category Archives: Exhibitions

Turquoise Mountain: Jali Woodwork

Scenes from Turquoise Mountain, Kabul, Afghanistan, Monday, September 30, 2013. Photo © by Tina Hager fro TFBSO.

Scenes from Turquoise Mountain, Kabul, Afghanistan, September 30, 2013. Photo © by Tina Hager fro TFBSO.

Jali is the term for a latticed screen, which can be made of wood or stone. This screen usually has an ornamental pattern based on geometric designs. It is a style of work found across the Islamic world. In Morocco and much of the Middle East, this style of work is known as mashrabiyya, while in Afghanistan and South Asia it is known as jali.

Jali screens were used in many elements of traditional domestic and public architecture in Kabul. Areas such as Murad Khani and Asheqan-o-Arefan (restored by the Afgha Khan Trust for Culture) have excellent surviving examples of this work.

Scenes from Turquoise Mountain, Kabul, Afghanistan, Monday, September 30, 2013. Photo © by Tina Hager fro TFBSO.

Scenes from Turquoise Mountain, Kabul, Afghanistan, Monday, September 30, 2013. Photo © by Tina Hager fro TFBSO.

To make jali, a woodworker traces a geometric design onto paper, then cuts thin slivers of walnut or cedar wood with a fine saw. These pieces are matched to the tracing paper to ensure exact sizing before being fixed together with wood glue. The whole piece is then clamped to ensure a strong fit.

Turquoise Mountain has created large-scale jali works for international commissions, including the Museum of Islamic Art in Qatar, the Connaught Hotel in London, and a private house in upstate New York. In Turquoise Mountain: Artists Transforming Afghanistan, master woodworker Nasser Mansouri has his own pieces on display. He explains in the exhibition text, “I started working on the restoration of historic buildings in Murad Khani in 2006. I learned so much by studying those buildings: the beautiful cedar wood carving on window frames; the latticework known as jali above doorways; the subtle method by which joints were put together without a nail in sight. The buildings became my teachers.”

Nasser Mansouri © by Tina Hager for TFBSO.

Nasser Mansouri © by Tina Hager for TFBSO.

#5WomenArtists: Lara Baladi

Oum el Dounia; Lara Baladi (b. 1969, Beirut, Lebanon); 2000–2007; wool and cotton; courtesy the artist

Oum el Dounia; Lara Baladi (b. 1969, Beirut, Lebanon); 2000–2007; wool and cotton; courtesy the artist

Throughout Women’s History Month, we’re joining the National Museum of Women in the Arts in highlighting and celebrating women who are artists. We’ll introduce female artists throughout Asian art history, as well as those who currently grace our galleries with contemporary works. Use the hashtag #5womenartists to join in.

Overwhelming and vibrant, peppered with fairytale characters and archival images, artist Lara Baladi‘s contemporary vision of Egypt currently greets visitors to the Freer|Sackler. Born in 1969 in Beirut, Baladi is an Egyptian-Lebanese photographer and multimedia artist. Now based in Cairo, she created this digital tapestry—titled Oum el Dounia, Arabic for Mother of the World, a common nickname for Egypt—as part of her interest in the global perception of the country, as well as in the way technology affects visual narratives. The monumental piece, which stands nearly 10 feet tall and more than 29 feet wide, also reflects time she spent near the Bahariya Oasis in Egypt’s western desert: “traveling by jeep with friends, picnicking, and camping beneath the stars.”

“In thinking about how to represent my experience of the desert, I looked to fairytales such as Alice in Wonderland and The Little Mermaid, old picture postcards and my own archive,” Baladi recalled. “The resulting collage is a dreamlike journey, turning the stereotypical image of the desert upside down.”

Lara Baladi. Photo courtesy of Arts at MIT

Lara Baladi. Photo courtesy of Arts at MIT

Baladi’s firsthand experience of the events in Tahrir Square in 2011 marked a significant shift in her artistic practice. During the demonstrations, she began amassing a digital archive of videos, photographs, and articles related to the events in Egypt as well as other major occurrences around the world. This effort became an ongoing art and research project titled Vox Populi, through which she explores how technology can enhance access to materials that document revolution and the stories they tell.

Explore Vox Populi and Oum el Dounia online, and visit us to see Baladi’s work in person.

The Beauty of Afghanistan

steve mccurry

Photographer Steve McCurry shared the beauty of Afghanistan with the world more than thirty years ago, when his captivating photo Afghan Girl stared out from the cover of National Geographic magazine. A few weeks ago on Instagram, he asked the public to post their own interpretations of Afghanistan’s beauty for the opening of our exhibition Turquoise Mountain: Artists Transforming Afghanistan. We’ve been following the responses using the #turquoisemountain hashtag, which are also featured in the exhibition itself. Below are a few of our favorite shots that you’ve posted of Afghanistan and of your experiences in the Turquoise Mountain galleries.

 

jprobertson

scott.liddle

shaghaye

sirensenyook

 

karonf

 

lagoarthurstudio

 

livbowen

Remembering A Memorial

Left: the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC (Joe Ravi, CC-BY-SA 3.0). Right: Mausoleum of Cyrus, Ernst Herzfeld, Iran, 1905–28.

Left: the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC (Joe Ravi, CC-BY-SA 3.0). Right: Mausoleum of Cyrus, Ernst Herzfeld, Iran, 1905–28.

Imagine Washington, DC, abandoned and half-submerged into the Atlantic. The rounded dome of the Jefferson Memorial is visible like a little white island, but no one remembers the structure or its origins. Imagine New York covered with layers and layers of sands, the Chrysler Building in ruins, and the identity of the Statue of Liberty forgotten.

A doomsday scenario? The plot for a science fiction movie? A little far fetched? Maybe, but not when compared to the fate of Pasargadae, the magnificent capital of the Achaemenids (550–330 BCE), the first empire of the ancient world. It was built by the empire’s founder, Cyrus the Great (reigned 550–530 BCE), who conquered much of the Near East within a twenty-year period. He was known for his military skills as well as his tolerance: in 539, when he conquered Babylon, Cyrus allowed the Jews and other prisoners to return to their homeland.

Pasargadae was located in southwestern Iran, in the so-called “plain of the water bird.” Introducing a new architectural plan that would be widely emulated, the palace complex was centered on a large garden and included striking columnar palaces and pavilions, as well as Cyrus’s tomb. It was a pivotal site of the ancient world. Even when the Greeks conquered the Achaemenids in 330 BCE, Alexander the Great visited Pasargadae and paid his respects to Cyrus.

View of dasht-i murghab, or "plain of the water bird"

Over the years, however, Pasargadae gradually fell into neglect and was largely forgotten in favor of nearby Persepolis, built by Darius I (522–486 BCE). In the thirteenth century, a local ruler transformed Cyrus’s tomb into a mosque using stones and columns from the nearby palace. According to fifteenth-century Western travelers to the area, very little of the capital and the palace grounds remained, and the tomb was believed to be a woman’s resting-place. Although some scholars had speculated that the site was that of ancient Pasargadae, it was only in 1908 that the celebrated German archaeologist Ernst Herzfeld identified it beyond any reasonable doubt as the royal capital of the Achaemenid Empire.

Even if not much of the once-magnificent capital still stands, thanks to Herzfeld’s efforts, Pasargadae and the tomb are once again linked to Cyrus the Great. The story is a poignant reminder of the passage of time and the power of our collective memory. Experience it in person in Heart of an Empire: Herzfeld’s Discovery of Pasargadae, on view through July 31.

#5WomenArtists: Sughra Hussainy

Sughra Hussainy

Sughra Hussainy

Throughout Women’s History Month, we’re joining the National Museum of Women in the Arts in highlighting and celebrating women who are artists. We’ll introduce female artists throughout Asian art history, as well as those who currently grace our galleries with contemporary works. Use the hashtag #5womenartists to join in.

This Saturday, we debut Turquoise Mountain: Artists Transforming Afghanistan, an exhibition on the eponymous organization that is reviving traditional Afghan crafts. Artisans from Afghanistan will visit us throughout the show’s run, sharing their stories and their creations.

The first artisan to make her way to DC is Sughra Hussainy. At the age of fifteen, Hussainy was orphaned and left to care for her siblings by herself. Hoping to generate income to support her family, she began studying calligraphy and miniature painting at the Turquoise Mountain Institute.

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Hussainy, who is now studying fine art at Kabul University, is regarded as one of Afghanistan’s most promising young artists. She has received a number of international commissions and has showcased her work at several exhibitions in Kabul and the United Kingdom.

Meet Hussainy and see her work when Turquoise Mountain debuts on March 5. Have questions? Share them with us, and we’ll pass them on to our artisans.

How Did Turquoise Mountain Get Its Name?

Since 2006 Turquoise Mountain has worked in partnership with the community of Murad Khani, providing employment, education, healthcare, and a renewed sense of pride. Image courtesy Turquoise Mountain

Since 2006, Turquoise Mountain has worked in partnership with the community of Murad Khani, providing employment, education, healthcare, and a renewed sense of pride. Image courtesy Turquoise Mountain

Turquoise Mountain is named after a fabled lost city, located in what is now central Afghanistan. The city was destroyed in the early 13th century by Ögedei Khan, son of Genghis Khan.

The charity’s name was chosen by its founder, Rory Stewart, who walked across Afghanistan in the winter of early 2002. During his walk, Rory Stewart passed the Minaret of Jam, a two hundred-foot structure built around 1190 CE, located in a remote and largely inaccessible area of Ghor province in central Afghanistan. This minaret is likely one of the last surviving elements of the city of Turquoise Mountain. Stewart decided to name the charity after this lost city as a symbol of the rebirth and revival of Afghanistan’s once-proud cultural heritage.

Read Stewart’s New York Times piece on his travels, and experience the wonders of Afghan art when Turquoise Mountain: Artists Transforming Afghanistan opens March 5.

Behind the Scenes of “Turquoise Mountain”

Dedicated to teaching a new generation of Afghan artisans in woodwork, calligraphy, ceramics, jewelry design, and other crafts, Turquoise Mountain is reviving Afghanistan’s proud cultural legacy. To share this transformative story of people, places, and heritage in Afghanistan, the Freer|Sackler is recreating a visit to Old Kabul for Turquoise Mountain: Artists Transforming Afghanistan, opening March 5. Tommy Wide, director of exhibitions at the organization, takes us behind the scenes of our forthcoming presentation. 

We wanted this show to be an exploration and celebration of Afghan contemporary art and culture. We wanted to capture the voices and ideas of the remarkable team of people in Afghanistan who have regenerated Murad Khani, a district of Old Kabul, and are leading the revival of Afghanistan’s artisan crafts. The exhibition, which is now being installed, features sections dedicated to several of these art forms.

Ceramics
I started planning the show by talking to artisans whom I have worked with for many years at Turquoise Mountain. Abdul Matin Malekzada, whom I first knew as a student at the institute, now runs his own ceramics business and teaches at the Turquoise Mountain Institute.

Left to right: Abdul Matin Malekzada and Tommy Wide

Left to right: Abdul Matin Malekzada and Tommy Wide

Abdul Matin was interested in focusing on the process of ceramic production, the different stages needed to make a traditional bowl, and the sheer work that goes into making a single piece. We decided to make a long film in his village, Istalif, which would show the whole process of making one bowl. Our filmmaker, Lalage Snow, and I drove up to Istalif at 4 am one October morning to film a day of pottery making with Abdul Matin and friends. It was special for me to come back to Istalif, a place where I had worked in 2007 and 2008, and where I had learned to speak Dari, one of the languages of Afghanistan. The weather was beautiful, and we got some lovely photos to go along with our film. Here is Abdul Matin (center) with his friends Abdul Wahab and Masoud, on their way to look for a clay seam in the hills around Istalif.

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We designed a display that will show bowls in different stages of production and includes lots of bowls on the wall—a reference to the bowls lining the famous pottery bazaar in Istalif (below). We’re even hanging the bowls the same way, fastening wire loops around the bases that slip over nails hammered into the wall.

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Woodwork
For the woodwork sections, we relied on the vision and creativity of Ustad Nasser Mansouri, one of the Islamic world’s finest woodworkers. I have worked with Ustad Nasser for many years and have always been in awe of his design ability and technical skills. In cooperation with our head engineer, Hedayat Ahmadzai, we decided to recreate part of one of our favorite buildings, the Double Column Serai, which Ustad Nasser had helped restore in 2007–9. Below are photos of the building and of Ustad Nasser with the columns he made for the exhibition.

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To share our plans with the exhibition team at the Freer|Sackler, we made a model version of the building’s arches out of Himalayan cedar and sent pictures and diagrams to DC.

Exhibition arch in miniature

Exhibition arch in miniature

Seeking inspiration for the rest of the woodwork sections, Ustad Nasser and I walked around Old Kabul looking at buildings. Ustad Nasser had been a refugee in Iran as a young man and always said that Kabul’s historic buildings taught him a great deal about Afghan history and culture. He thus decided to make jali (latticework) panels to reference a historic Afghan design, examples of which he and I photographed last August while visiting a shrine in Asheqan-o-Arefan.

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Ustad Nasser started working on pieces in his workshop in western Kabul. I was particularly struck by his jali geodesic dome, made by hand without nails or any industrial machinery. It reminded me of Buckminster Fuller’s designs from the 1960s, and I enjoyed showing Ustad Nasser photos of Fuller’s work. Ustad Nasser’s piece seemed perfect for the show—illustrating the way Afghan artisans are playing with traditional motifs and techniques in their strikingly original creations.

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Ustad Nasser also designed the large walnut jali panels you’ll see when you enter the exhibition. They’re designed to give a glimpse of the show while distinguishing the semicircular entry area from the rest of the gallery. Ustad Nasser made sure the jalis could be packed in small crates and reassembled—without nails—in DC.

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The panels were so beautifully made that they slotted together perfectly once they arrived. The installation team, pictured here installing the pieces, was amazed that they were made entirely by hand.

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Calligraphy
We worked with a team of young calligraphers to realize their vision for the calligraphy section of the show. First stop was Samira Kitman, a young calligraphy business owner whom I’ve worked with for several years. She discussed the need to use natural pigments, and she and I had fun looking at gold leaf and the pigments she used in her work.

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Jewelry
Turquoise Mountain graduate Saeeda Etebari, one of the most talented young jewelers in Afghanistan, created a special piece for the exhibition’s jewelry section. Very excitingly for Saeeda and for us, the United Kingdom-based designer Pippa Small then agreed to work with Saeeda to make a one-off piece. Pippa visited Kabul several times to design with Saeeda, and they established a deep bond. Watching Pippa and Saeeda work together was a joy for us all. Here they are collaborating on the piece with Javid Noori, a jewelry teacher at the Turquoise Mountain Institute.

Left to right: Javid Noori, Saeeda Etebari, Pippa Small

Left to right: Javid Noori, Saeeda Etebari, Pippa Small

Carpet
I wanted something spectacular for the carpet section, so I turned to one of the most exciting carpet designers in the world, Erbil Tezcan. Erbil is based in New Jersey and has been working with Afghan carpet-makers for several years. I gave him a simple task: make something really special that tells a story of Afghanistan. The result, which Erbil is shown working on below, was the Afghan history carpet that you’ll see in the exhibition. It traces the evolution of Afghan carpets by weaving together more than twenty historic designs.

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We wanted the piece made wholly in Afghanistan rather than having it finished in Pakistan, which is often the case with Afghan carpets. It took a team of weavers in Dawlatabad several months to weave the rug. Finally, in September 2015, it was sent to Mazar-e Sharif in northern Afghanistan to be washed.

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The history carpet was then shipped to DC, where it spent several weeks undergoing CO2 treatment to kill off any insects. It was a nerve-wracking moment when Kenny Mitchell of the Roto design firm, who is heading the exhibition’s installation, opened up the carpet for the first time. I’d seen carpets ruined in transit from Afghanistan, so I was holding my breath. Luckily, this one was beautiful and intact.

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Finishing Touches
We wanted the exhibition to involve as many people from Murad Khani as possible. A few of the community’s skilled women tailors made the cushions for the show’s central pavilion—a place to catch your breath, watch the beautiful films, and learn more about Afghanistan through our specially designed interactive map.

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Now that everything has arrived safely in DC, we’ve spent the last week installing the pieces in the exhibition space. Miraculously, none of the several tons of woodwork we shipped was damaged, and everything seems to fit together well. We’ve been very lucky, too, that one of our Afghan engineers, Hedayat Ahmadzai, has been with us, advising the installation team as they get everything set up.

Left to right: Joseph Patterson and Hedayat Ahmadzai

Left to right: Joseph Patterson and Hedayat Ahmadzai

We can’t wait to show you the final result when Turquoise Mountain: Artists Transforming Afghanistan opens in just a few weeks.

The Littlest Tea Man

Chigusa, "with and without clothes," by Leo.

“Chigusa, with and without clothes,” by Leo.

Allison Peck is head of public affairs and marketing at Freer|Sackler.

The renowned ceramic known as Chigusa recently added another chapter to its long and storied history, and the drawings of a six-year-old boy entered the permanent record of the Smithsonian Institution. Chigusa, a 700-year-old tea-leaf storage jar, is one of the most important objects in chanoyu, the Japanese art of tea. Acquired by the museums in 2009, the jar currently is making its U.S. debut in Chigusa and the Art of Tea, an exhibition that Leo, age six, visited with his mom earlier this year.

As beautiful as Chigusa is, with its weighty simplicity and mottled brown glaze, what truly brings it to life and creates its legacy is the tradition of documentation and decoration that surrounds it: the 500 years of tea diaries, poems, records, and luxury adornments created by generations of Chigusa fans. The men who have paid homage to the jar and form the most human—and, some would argue, the most interesting—part of its story are called, aptly, “tea men.”

Chigusa and the Art of Tea wasn’t designed as an exhibition to appeal to younger audiences, so we were astonished and a little bemused to receive an email (with the charming subject line of “Chigusa, with and without clothes”) containing Leo’s accurate crayon drawings of the tea jar in various states of ceremonial display. His mom, Amy, reported a similar feeling.

“I was surprised by his drawings of Chigusa because he is the kind of boy who usually draws countless pictures of Angry Birds,” Amy wrote. “It was my idea to go see Chigusa with the family, and I wasn’t sure how Leo would respond to it at first. But he seemed to enjoy the exhibit very much. I suspect that the reasons for that include the fact that it is a jar with a name, which gives it a different kind of status among objects, for kids and grown-ups alike.”

In honor of the tradition of documenting encounters with Chigusa, Amy thought we might like to see the drawings and learn how they came to be. (Actually, she sent them twice: the first time, they had been scanned out of order, and Leo—with a rigid attention to detail worthy of both a true tea man and an art historian—requested they be re-sent in the “correct” sequence that he had intended!)

“I asked Leo why he drew the pictures of Chigusa and what gave him the idea, and he said, ‘Love!'” Amy wrote. “He said that he knew that I liked Chigusa a lot, and so he drew the pictures, so that I could remember it. Chigusa obviously made an impression on him.”

Chigusa, dressed in its new mouth cover, secured with an ornamental knot.

Chigusa, dressed in its new mouth cover, secured with an ornamental knot.

“As Leo gets older with a better sense of time,” Amy went on, “he’s interested—just like we are—in old things that have interesting stories.”

With that last sentence in particular, she unknowingly captured one of the Freer|Sackler’s most essential missions—to bring old things that have interesting stories to light, and then to step back and allow them to speak to visitors of all ages.

Andy Watsky, professor of Japanese art history at Princeton University, responded to Amy and Leo with a thank-you note. “My co-curator of the exhibition, Louise Cort, and I, and many other people at the Sackler and in Japan worked long and hard on this exhibition; we all hoped that the results would be meaningful to those who visited,” he wrote. “But I can tell you that I have never seen as fine a response as your son’s drawings. We have the records of how Chigusa has kept people interested over many centuries, including the tea diaries—in fact, sometimes the diarists included drawings of objects they saw. How wonderful that your son’s drawings now join that history as one such personal memory of Chigusa.”

He and Cort, curator of ceramics at Freer|Sackler, are requesting that Leo’s drawings and the story surrounding his trip and inspiration be entered into Chigusa’s permanent record in the Smithsonian database, making them accessible to future generations of researchers and curators. They’ve become the latest entry in that centuries-long tradition of Chigusa fandom, and Leo has become the littlest tea man.

Chigusa and the Art of Tea remains on view in the Sackler through July 27. On October 11, the exhibition will open at the Princeton University Art Museum.

Angry Birds?

Kenzan style tea bowl with design of crane and flowing water; Japan; late 19th century; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1896.100

Kenzan style tea bowl with design of crane and flowing water; late 19th century;
Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1896.100


Lee Glazer is associate curator of American art at Freer|Sackler.

Hardly. When artists evoked avian melodies, as Thomas Dewing did in The Four Sylvan Soundsthey intended to soothe and refresh, to take the viewer out of “the harness of business” and into a more pleasant, “sylvan” realm. The sounds and scents of nature are mentioned with surprising frequency in Freer’s correspondence with artists and friends. Dewing used the sensory pleasures of a woodland ramble to induce Freer to visit him at his summer studio in Cornish, New Hampshire. “I wish you could be here,” Dewing wrote in June 1894, “taking in this cool fresh air filled with bird notes & scents of flowers.”

Two years later, the artist translated this experience into the visual language of painting, telling Freer he had begun work on a pair of screens representing “the four forest notes—the Hermit Thrush, the sound of running water, the woodpecker, and the wind through the pine trees.” These screens, now on view in Sylvan Sounds: Freer, Dewing, and Japan, incorporate a number of influences, the most direct being the natural beauty of the New England countryside. The figures were inspired by ancient Greek Tanagra figurines, and the theme came from a poem called “Wood Notes” by the American transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson. Dewing’s debt to Japanese art is evident in the bifold format of the screens and the simplicity of the unframed panels. The flowers and forest leaves, some painted with a stencil, resemble the elegant, stylized patterns of many screens in Freer’s Japanese collection, along with the multisensory imagery denoting bird songs and rustling grasses.

Rectangular Dish, Japan, stoneware with white slip and iron pigment under white glaze; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1896.53

Rectangular dish; Japan; stoneware with white slip and iron pigment under white glaze;
19th century; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1896.53

Freer had purchased his first two Japanese folding screens early in 1896, just after returning from his first visit to Japan. Later that same year, Dewing began to paint The Four Sylvan Sounds. During the two years that Dewing worked on these panels, Freer acquired sixteen Japanese screens, twelve of which are now in the museum’s collection. After promising his art collection to the Smithsonian Institution in 1906, Freer stipulated that his Japanese screens had to be displayed in a special gallery in a proposed new museum. He envisioned the space as a link between galleries devoted to Dewing and other American artists and those featuring the art of Whistler. This early arrangement underscored Freer’s belief in cross-cultural aesthetic connections between East and West—a principle theme in the current exhibition as well.

Sylvan Sounds: Freer, Dewing, and Japan remains on view through May 18, 2014.

The Power of Koringa

Koringa, a magicienne of the 1930s, creatively reimagined yogic referents to enhance the allure of her act

Koringa, a magicienne of the 1930s, creatively reimagined yogic referents to enhance the allure of her act.

Hetty Lipscomb is development writer and stewardship manager at Freer|Sackler.

It takes some kind of woman to take on a crocodile. Look magazine’s cover from September 1937 shows Koringa, the beautiful mystic, crouched low, staring down her adversary. She positions her arms like the jaws of the croc, only wider to intimidate him. A caste mark on her forehead glows red like a third eye, suggesting hypnotic powers.

She claimed to be from India, orphaned at the age of three and raised by fakirs who taught her magic so that she could charm snakes, read minds, or walk on beds of shattered glass. In truth, she was Renée Bernard (1913–1976) a dancer from Bordeaux, who was a member of a traveling circus, a popular entertainment in France from the 19th century on. Bernard’s main act was a quick-footed dance on a ladder made of sword blades. Her performance impressed the Mills Brothers of England, who immediately engaged her as a star attraction of Bertram Mills‘ Circus and Menagerie.

Reflecting the public’s romanticized fascination with India, Bernard and the Mills Brothers created the persona of Koringa, “The Only Female Fakir in the World.” A striking woman, Bernard heightened her exotic look with “Orientalist” costumes—short leopard-print dresses (via dresshead) or pantaloons with sequined tops—and a dramatic, auerole hairstyle. She dusted her body with a green-tinged powder before performances to give her a glowing, otherworldly appearance. A poster for Mills Circus in the Sackler’s upcoming exhibition Yoga: The Art of Transformation shows Koringa in green, posed like the Look cover only surrounded by snakes as well as crocodiles. Koringa remained with the Mills Brothers through the 1960s, touring England, France, and South Africa.

A fierce, 10th century yogini goddess in the collection of the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, S1987.905

A fierce, 10th-century yogini goddess in the collection of the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, S1987.905

Today, we may see Koringa as a product of a colonialist fantasy of India and “the exotic woman.” But Koringa’s attributes of the crocodile and snake also appear on a 10th-century sculpture of a yogini goddess in the Sackler’s collections. One of a cult of goddesses worshiped in a temple at Tamil Nadu in Kaveripakkam, south India, the yogini came to the aid of the faithful and helped them achieve worldly powers and success. Renée Bernard’s Koringa can be interpreted as an homage to these ancient goddesses, who in turn helped her achieve fame and fortune.

Want to contribute to the Yoga exhibition? Donate to our “Together We’re One” crowdfunding campaign or email us at yoga@si.edu to see how you can get involved.