Article
Author: Jennifer Purtle (University of Toronto)
Building a pagoda mobilizes durable materials into architectonic form. But a pagoda may also incorporate likenesses of images and objects wrought in ephemeral materials, thus becoming a nexus of textual, pictorial, and formal transfer and intermedial preservation. This essay examines how, in the Zhenguo pagoda 鎮國塔 (lit. “Defender of the State Pagoda”) at the Kaiyuan temple in Quanzhou, Fujian, rock—covered with the imagery of paper (and other fugitive media) by means of scissors (or, more precisely, the carver’s knife)—preserved traces of evanescent forms. Specifically, it: articulates the relationship of paper-based editions of the Buddhist canon to the pagoda’s stone-carved narrative program; asserts the influence of logographic schema of printed-paper primers and locally known, silk-based court painting styles to the pagoda’s imagery; and contends that carved images of small, free-standing bronze (and stone) pagodas link the Zhenguo pagoda to overlapping local (Quanzhou), regional (Min-Yue/Fujian), imperial (Song-dynasty), and maritime (Indian Ocean) object networks. To test the hypothesis that the Zhenguo pagoda serves as a repository of, and lexicon for, now lost forms, this essay concludes by using the imagery of the Zhenguo pagoda to recover the iconography of a type of Quanzhou-specific Buddhist monument, the Stone Shoot (Shisun 石筍).
Keywords: pagoda, Zhenguo, Quanzhou, paper, stone, iconography
How to Cite: Purtle, J. (2024) “Rock, Paper, Scissors: Durable Ephemera and Networks of Stone in Quanzhou’s Zhenguo Pagoda”, Ars Orientalis. 54(0). doi: https://doi.org/10.3998/ars.7030
To build a pagoda is to mobilize durable materials into architectonic form, timber and stone, allowing it to stand and indeed rise stories above ground level, perhaps for several centuries. But pagodas can also be crafted using images and objects wrought in ephemeral materials: fragile printed texts and paintings on silk, indestructible objects fashioned from valuable metals ultimately recycled, and evanescent forms no longer produced. Once these ephemera disappear, they exist only as embodied in the fabric of the pagoda. The pagoda thus becomes a nexus of textual, pictorial, and formal transfer, a site at which artistic and intermedial processes enable imperishable media to preserve others more easily destroyed, thereby creating abiding texts and images able to outlive their models.
This article examines how, in the Zhenguo pagoda 鎮國塔 (lit. “Defender of the State Pagoda”; fig. 1) at the Kaiyuan temple 開元寺 in Quanzhou 泉州 (fig. 2), Fujian 福建, rock—covered with the imagery of paper (and silk, and other fugitive media) by means of scissors (or, more precisely, the carver’s knife)—preserved traces of evanescent forms, sustained their lost networks, and served, in some cases, as a lexicon for decoding the forgotten iconographies of other monuments.1 This article articulates the relationship of paper-based editions of the Buddhist canon, especially printed ones, to the stone-carved narrative program and demonstrates how single reliefs combine content from multiple sutras; it also asserts that artisans employed the logographic schema of printed-paper primers as well as pictorial styles drawn from court painting on silk, known locally, to maximize the intelligibility of the reliefs. Furthermore, this article contends that, by representing small, free-standing bronze (and stone) pagodas—their corpus, like those of their paper- and silk-based counterparts, now largely lost—the reliefs establish links to overlapping local (Quanzhou), regional (Min-Yue/Fujian), imperial, and maritime (Indian Ocean) object networks. Finally, by using the durable images of the Zhenguo pagoda as indices of long-lost monuments, this article recovers the identity of an unusual local type of monument, thereby validating the hypothesis that this pagoda serves as a repository of, and lexicon for, now-lost ephemera.
Paper, especially printed paper, often served as the tool for writing and picturing foundational Buddhist beliefs in stone (and other media). In such cases, portable but potentially destructible imprints—examples of what the media theorist Harold Innis (1894–1952), a founder of the Toronto School of communication theory, in his media ecology termed “space-binding media,” media easily transmitted across space—become fixed and enduring; thus such media are translated into Innis’s “time-binding media,” media able to withstand the ravages of time but less able to move.2 Peculiar to instances of intermediality in the Buddhist tradition are the large number and doctrinal diversity of texts contained within the Buddhist Canon or Tripiṭaka: each text or image translated from the space-binding medium of a paper-based Tripiṭaka to the time-binding medium of a monument indicates a selection of content from one (or several) titles of more than a thousand, as well as the corresponding rejection of content from the balance of available titles.3 This process of selective inclusion therefore sheds light on the degree of textual access and doctrinal diversity in the context in which a monument is made.
The structural history of the Zhenguo pagoda is one of iterative intermediality, multiple rebuildings in different materials. This occurred in a changing temple environment, and against the development of the city of Quanzhou from nothing to one of the most important ports in the medieval world system.4 The temple in which the Zhenguo pagoda would subsequently be built, originally named Lotus Flower temple 蓮花寺, was founded ca. 685 when the closest walled city was Wurongzhou 武榮州 (located in present-day Fengzhou township 豐州鎮, Nan’an county 南安縣), founded ca. 622 CE.5 Circa 711 Wurongzhou relocated from present-day Fengzhou to the current site of Quanzhou, with city walls built ca. 700–718; at this time, the Lotus Flower temple was located just outside the Xiaoqing (West) gate 肅清門 of the walled city.6 An imperial proclamation of 738 changed the name of the Lotus Flower temple to the Kaiyuan temple, or Kaiyuan si 開元寺.7 It is not until 865—two centuries after the founding of Lotus Flower temple, and a century after its renaming—that artisans working under the direction of the monk Wencheng 文偁 (798–877) completed work on a five-story wooden pagoda on which the Tang dynasty (618–907) emperor Yizong 懿宗 (833–873, r. 859–873) bestowed the name Zhenguo. The following year, 866, an official dispatched from the capital of Chang’an (modern Xi’an) brought relics of the Buddha to be enshrined within this new pagoda.8
Even as the morphology of Quanzhou’s city walls changed across the course of the Tang and Song dynasties (standard dates: 960–1279; Quanzhou-specific dates: 978–1276), including in response to growing and ethnically diversifying populations, the form of the Zhenguo pagoda also changed, adding height that increased its visibility on the urban skyline, replacing iterations lost to fire, rebuilding in brick and stone for durability. First the Zhenguo pagoda was rebuilt during the Tianxi era (1017–1021) of the Song dynasty, its height extended to thirteen stories. Having burned in 1155, it was restored by the monk Liaoxing 了性 (fl. twelfth century) in 1186. Burning again in 1227, the pagoda was rebuilt by the monk Shouchun 守淳 (fl. thirteenth century) in brick, its height limited to seven stories. The monk Benhong 本洪 (fl. early–mid-thirteenth century, also known as Bengong 本拱) began to replace the brick with stone in 1238, completing only a single story; the monk Faquan 法權 (fl. thirteenth century) completed the next three stories; and finally, the monk Tianxi 天錫 (1209–1263), who hailed from a local family, completed the fifth story and spire ca. 1248.9 Built well before the rise of Quanzhou as an important port in an extended maritime network, yet following the enclosure of the Kaiyuan si by the expansion of the city walls after 804, the walls and the Zhenguo pagoda—together with its pendant, the Renshou pagoda 仁壽塔 (lit. “Benevolence and Longevity Pagoda”)—functioned as the most visible, defining civic markers of Song-dynasty Quanzhou.10
The visibility of the pagoda and its twin, and the fame of its relief-carved imagery, are not matched by clarity on the sources of its architectonic and pictorial forms, problems that prompted this dual investigation of iconography and intermediality. In the local context of Quanzhou, various features of the pagoda resemble the constituent forms of other monuments, their chronological relationship sometimes clear and other times not, indeed, unable to be determined.11 More difficult are the questions of iconographic program and pictorial sources. The forty reliefs on the base of the Zhenguo pagoda neither follow a program established elsewhere nor do they resemble in composition or pictorial form Buddhist pictorial prints contemporaneous with the making of the reliefs, which have been brought into scholarly focus by colleagues working on Buddhist printing.12 Not studied systematically since the 1930s, the iconographic program and its sources have been clarified by digital access to the Tripiṭaka, expanding on the groundbreaking work of Paul Demiéville and Gustav Ecke published in their seminal book, The Twin Pagodas of Zayton (1935).13 In other words, the impetus to this article is the intersection of the problem of form in one of the most cosmopolitan cities of the medieval world (also inhabited by a large group of imperial family members) with the problem of iconography in what was concurrently one of the most vibrant centers of Buddhist learning (supported by proximate access to printed text) in this and other monuments from Quanzhou.14
To picture foundational Buddhist beliefs in durable form, the base of the Zhenguo pagoda presents thirty-nine carved-stone narrative reliefs drawn from no fewer than 65 titles (and perhaps as many as 146 titles) of various genres anthologized in the Buddhist canon, as well as 4 titles outside it, to viewers at ground level (fig. 3).15 Each has a four-character inscription; eleven are taken verbatim from standard printed editions of the Tripiṭaka (one from a single text; ten using text found in more than eighty titles).16 The fortieth relief either represents the void of nirvana or is a blank placeholder for a lost image. The narrative program encircles the pagoda base beginning on its southeast face. The program is read right-to-left like Classical Chinese texts and handscroll paintings: the directionality of this reading moves the viewer across each image and on to the next, the programmatic sequence guiding the viewer to the clockwise circumambulation of the pagoda, a standard practice in Buddhist worship.17 At present, staircases and stone bridges prevent continuous circumambulation of the pagoda (see fig. 1).18 But how these current structural features relate to the original stone structure of ca. 1238, when the monk Benhong rebuilt the pagoda for the fifth time since its founding ca. 865, is unclear.
The selective translation of content from printed paper to carved stone and its resultant programmatic communication is evident when the Zhenguo pagoda base reliefs are parsed into ten thematic groups, a parsing that supercedes prior approaches to the iconographic program.19 The first four of these cover four of the eight façades of the pagoda (see fig. 3) and address Buddhist history and practice. The first group narrates Buddhist prehistory (reliefs 1, 2), that is, the Jātaka Tales (stories of the past lives of the future Buddha), exemplified by the first relief, “The boy asking for the verse (gāthā)” (Tongzi qiu ji 童子求偈), a tale from the Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra (Great Parinirvana Sutra) (fig. 4).20 The second group (reliefs 3–12) illustrates scenes from the Life of the Historical Buddha, exemplified by the fifth relief, “The Prince’s outing” (Taizi chu you 太子出遊; fig. 5). This relief depicts the moment when Prince Siddhārtha (ca. 480–ca. 400 BCE), who would become the Historical Buddha Śākyamuni, left the confines of the palace in which he had been raised to encounter age (depicted in this relief by the figure with a staff at the left of the composition), illness, death, and asceticism (a palliative for human suffering).21
The transfer of printed text to images carved in stone followed tales of the past lives of the future Buddha and the Life of the Buddha with reliefs that reveal the possibilities and practices of Buddhism for their viewers. The third group (reliefs 13–16) illustrates Buddhist miracles in the natural world, exemplified by the fifteenth relief, “Bohe (Mint) revealing himself” (Bohe shi ji 薄荷示跡, lit. “Mint shows traces [of himself]”), which pictures a bodhisattva incarnated as a pig named Mint seeking to save his fellow human beings who had been reborn as animals.22 The fourth group (reliefs 17–20) addresses Buddhist practices and parables, exemplified by the seventeenth, “Jalavāhana keeping the fish alive” (Liushui huoyu 流水活魚, lit. “[He who makes] the water flow [keeping] alive the fish”; fig. 6).23 This relief pictures the refilling of a dammed lake to maintain its fish populations, a tale linked to festivals for the release of living beings (fangsheng hui 放生會); this tale also underpinned the practice of making “Ponds for the Release of Living Beings” (fangsheng chi 放生池), one of which existed within the walled city of Quanzhou during the Song dynasty.24
Whereas the first four façades of the pagoda set in stone the historical and practical foundations of Buddhism, the last four façades contain six groups of thematic, text-based images that localize and personalize Buddhism for adherents in Quanzhou. The six reliefs (21–26) of the fifth group cover the northwestern façade of the pagoda in an unbroken sequence addressing cakravartin, or divine Buddhist kingship in India and its Chinese context.25 The twenty-first relief, “King Aśoka impelled to good” (Yu wang qian shan 育王遷善), depicts the conversion of the early Indian King Aśoka (ca. 268–ca. 232 BCE) to Buddhism at the moment when a Buddhist monk he had imprisoned transcended the torture of being boiled alive to cool the water and sit on a lotus on its surface (fig. 7).26 The sixth group (reliefs 27, 28) alludes to Chan masters in southern China.27
Further, to picture in stone the localization of Buddhism in southern China, the seventh and eighth groups of reliefs represent parables illustrated with native beasts and birds and local material culture, thereby localizing Indian Jātakas (tales of the past lives of the future Buddha) and Avadānas (Buddhist tales, often apologues, that correlate past lives’ virtuous acts to subsequent events) in southern China. The seventh group (reliefs 29–32) pictures quadrupeds as protagonists, including the thirty-first, “Jade elephant weeding the stupa” (Yu xiang ti ta 玉象薙塔), in which two elephants clear the ground around—and thus worship—a small stupa of a type widespread in Song-dynasty Quanzhou and its hinterland (fig. 8).28 The eighth group (reliefs 33–36) depicts birds and other winged creatures, exemplified by the thirty-fourth, “The master of the fields releasing orioles” (Tian zhu fang ying 田主放鸎), another tale of the release of living beings.29
To conclude the narrative cycle, the final two groups of reliefs picture asceticism and portray self-sacrifice, practices that may ultimately lead to extinction (nirvāṇa), that is, freedom from the cycle of rebirths, for all Buddhists. The ninth group (reliefs 37, 38) portrays famous ascetics (and the women sent to distract them from their religious practices), exemplified by the thirty-seventh relief, “Patience, the transcendent” (Renru xianren 忍辱仙人), which represents the hermit Patience 忍辱 (Skt: Kṣānti) practicing his eponymous virtue despite the temptations of a king’s consorts.30 Then, the first of the final two reliefs (39, 40) depicts the Mahāsattva jātaka, inscribed “Giving the body to feed the tigress” (She shen si hu 捨身飼虎), a famous Indian tale transferred to and localized in southern China by its adornment with bamboo leaves and its depiction of an indigenous tiger (fig. 9).31
The concluding reliefs segue to the first image, establishing the cyclicality of the narrative program. The final relief of the program, anomalously aniconic, represents a void. Perhaps a placeholder for a lost narrative panel of unknown subject matter, alternatively this relief may represent nirvana or extinction, that is, freedom from the cycle of rebirths evoked by the circumambulatory circuit of the pagoda base. Indeed, the first relief (see fig. 4) visualizes a past life of the future Buddha drawn from a translation of the Da banniepan jing (The Great Parinirvāṇa Sūtra; Skt: Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra), a text that expounds the notion that all sentient beings might attain Enlightenment.32 Read programmatically, the narrative cycle perhaps ends by figuring self-sacrifice and extinction, only to begin anew by manifesting further past incarnations of the future Buddha.
The durable image content of the stone narrative program of the thirty-nine Zhenguo pagoda base reliefs draws from no fewer than 65 (and perhaps as many as 150) discrete titles. Nearly every genre of Buddhist text anthologized in the Tripiṭaka informs the images and their prompts, including Āgamas (early Buddhist sutras); Jātakas and Avadānas; works related to famous sutras, the Vinaya (monastic rules), and sutra commentaries; works that address schisms, histories, biographies, and encyclopedias; as well as noncanonical Buddhist works and secular texts.33 A measure of the tight connection of the monument to Buddhist texts is that reliefs 5, 7, 8, 12, 19, 23, 28, 37, 38, and 39 all bear inscriptions drawn verbatim from their possible textual sources, which number more than eighty titles.34 Together, the reliefs display doctrinal diversity and textual access. Presumably, access to standard, paper-based editions of the Chinese-language Tripiṭaka at the Kaiyuan si, whether manuscript or printed, including by monks institutionalized in the more than one hundred cloisters (yuan 院) surrounding it—whose sectarian affiliations fostered specialization in different texts within the canon—informed the complexity of this project.35
Composite images amalgamate content from multiple sources, simultaneously amplifying details of specific content by condensing varied information into a single image. When this happens in the intermedial transposition of paper-based text to stone, stone becomes a content-binding medium aggregating information of disparate origin. In the Chinese Tripiṭaka, multiple translations of Sanskrit originals produce discrepant information associated with a given tale. The interpolation of varying content drawn from different recensions of a single tale is another form of selective inclusion of printed text on stone relief, for it signals access to and knowledge of the multiple titles that include the same tale, and the privileging of selected content over others correspondingly decentered or disregarded.
In presenting thirty-nine Buddhist tales on a corresponding number of reliefs, Benhong or, absent surviving information about possible creators and patrons, unnamed others responsible for designing the program, demonstrated their knowledge of the Tripiṭaka by using more than one textual source to amplify the iconographic details present in a single image. Of thirty-nine extant reliefs, only eight appear to have a single text as their source.36 The remaining reliefs either recount a tale found in multiple titles or combine the imagery of multiple titles containing complementary contents, a phenomenon described (albeit incompletely) but not analyzed by Gustav Ecke and Paul Demiéville, the first scholars to study the reliefs’ iconography. The limitations of Ecke and Demiéville’s study include analyzing the reliefs only individually or in pairs (not programmatically), and noting only canonical sources (despite reliefs based on popular, noncanonical Buddhist texts and secular texts that contain Buddhist content). While their groundbreaking methodology documented the use of multiple textual sources in the completion of most reliefs of the program, they did not explore the larger implications of this phenomenon.37
Keyword searches of the digitized Tripiṭaka and other texts to augment the work of Ecke and Demiéville indicate that abundant source material shaped not only the complexity of the narrative program, described above, but also the iconographic intricacy of individual reliefs. Their study of “The auspicious birth in the Lumbini Garden” (Pi lan dan rui 毗藍誕瑞; fig. 10a) reveals how this, the fourth relief, aggregated iconographic details from multiple sutras (fig. 10b), with their analysis detailed in the sentences that follow.38 The flanking of the newly born Buddha by Indra and Brahma comes from the Guoqu xianzai yinguo jing, which indicates that they stood on either side of him, as in the relief.39 Whereas some texts do not specify which hand the newborn Buddha raised before declaring his status (e.g., Xiuxing benqi jing), others note that he “raised his right hand” (ju you shou 擧右手) to state, per the Taizi rui ying benqi jing, “[In] Heaven above, [and in the world] under Heaven, only I am venerable” 天上天下,唯我爲尊.40 That two nāgarājas (lit. “serpent kings”; longwang 龍王, “dragon kings”) attended the Buddha derives from the Xiuxing benqi jing.41 Both the Fangguang da zhuangyan jing and Guoqu xianzai yinguo jing note that two streams of water came from a dragon or dragons, but neither specifies their number;42 the Pu yao jing makes their number nine.43 As Ecke and Demiéville indicate, no sutra notes the basin, but the Xiuxing benqi jing mentions the swaddling of the Buddha in a celestial garment by Indra and Brahma after his bathing.44
The Birth of the Buddha and other tales from the life of the Historical Buddha are obvious choices for showcasing the iconographic aggregation of discrete textual sources. Other reliefs within the program, for example, the thirty-eighth, “Unicorn the great transcendent” (Du jiao da xian 獨角大僊), differently illustrate a tale with multiple sources: recounted and/or recapped in at least eight texts, including ones not noted by Ecke and Demiéville, the image contains only details common to all textual versions of the narrative, rather than include details specific to one text or another.45 This relief thus pursues an alternative, universalizing strategy of representing all possible source texts in the simplest terms common to all versions of the story contained within the Tripiṭaka.
The number of texts used to compose individual reliefs and the program as a whole, the obscurity of some narratives, and the range of Buddhist textual genres from which they derive, suggest that one or more monks with significant access to sutras and likely a complete edition of the Tripiṭaka, whether printed or in manuscript, conceptualized the narrative program.46 Indeed, the Kaiyuan si had long been a repository of the Buddhist canon: after the warlord Wang Chao 王潮 (846–898) assumed control of Quanzhou in 884, he supported the Kaiyuan si, including by sponsoring the copying of three thousand juan of the Tripiṭaka for its sutra library. However, this edition of the Tripiṭaka was destroyed by fire in 895.47 Then, during the Song dynasty, the flourishing of dozens of independent cloisters of various sects surrounding the temple—the official count is more than one hundred before the Kaiyuan si became an exclusively Chan temple during the Yuan dynasty—meant that thousands of monks of different affiliations, specializing in a wide array of texts, coexisted alongside each other.48
This vibrant environment of Buddhist scholarship at the Kaiyuan si during the Song dynasty presumably supported the production of such a program. Access to manuscript copies and printed editions of the canon likely underpinned local knowledge of the canon. In the case of manuscript sutras, from the time of Wang Shenzhi 王審知 (862–925, r. 909–925), the founding ruler of the Min Kingdom (909–945), Fuzhou-based temples already collected sutras, and Wang himself was connected to the Kaiyuan si through his patronage of the Amitāyus pagoda.49 In the case of printed sutras, multiple editions were produced in Fuzhou, including the Chongning Wanshou Tripiṭaka (Chongning wanshou dazang 崇寧萬壽大藏), the first privately sponsored Tripitika printing project, undertaken by the Dongchan dengjue yuan temple (Dongchansi dengjue yuan 東禪寺 等覺院) ca. 1080–12; the Pilu Tripiṭaka (Pi lu zang 毗盧藏), another privately sponsored project managed by the Fuzhou Kaiyuan si ca. 1112–51; and a second edition of the Pilu Tripiṭaka produced 1164–76, which supplemented the original with Chan and Tiantai sect texts.50 Presumably, the local Quanzhou ecclesiastical population, with its extraordinary access to and knowledge of the Buddhist canon—whether local, and/or linked to Fuzhou, and/or to larger imperial networks of textual circulation—not only supplied the expertise to craft a complicated iconographic program but also served as an audience fully capable of parsing it. Alternatively, it is possible that the reliefs were completed by subscription, with secular patrons or the larger monastic community of Quanzhou contributing a panel (or multiple panels) to the narrative cycle that reflected their sectarian interests.51
Perhaps curiously, under some conditions carved stone, like printed or manually marked paper, may survive only as long as its imagery retains its intelligibility and value. Consequently, the translation of textual content from paper to carved stone presupposes its rendering in a comprehensible visual language that will insure its longevity.52 In the case of complex and/or compound Buddhist iconographies, the appropriation and combination of the pictorial format and representational sensibility transmitted in early Buddhist prints appears to inform some of the narrative reliefs. Additionally, the logographic schema current in paper-printed primers and encyclopedias, and the stylistic language of imperial court painting, likely available locally, also appear to have enhanced the legibility of carved stone. Such visual adaptation simplifies recognition and understanding of selectively included, doctrinally diverse content.
Ephemeral Buddhist printed-paper frontispieces perhaps influenced the horizontal format and compositional logic of the reliefs, their proportions and imagery—transmitted in space-binding media and defying the odds of survival—similar to those of the Zhenguo reliefs.53 Specifically, in pictorial format and representational sensibility, the reliefs resemble a unique extant example of the frontispiece of a miniature Buddhist text scroll printed in 956 under the patronage of Qian Hongchu 錢弘俶 (929–988), ruler of WuYue (907–978), which comprised Zhejiang, parts of Jiangxi, and, from 945 to 978, northeastern Fujian (including Fuzhou) (fig. 11). Presumably, this imprint was housed in one of the multitude of metal pagoda-shaped boxes manufactured for this purpose, which were intended to resemble the 84,000 reliquaries of the Historical Buddha that King Aśoka dispatched to various locations (including China) for the building of 84,000 stupas.54 The formal resonance of these printed frontispieces and the relief sculptures is apt, given the presence of Buddha relics in the Zhenguo pagoda after 866.55
As a frontispiece, this image illustrates a scene from the text it precedes, the Yiqie rulai xin mimi quanshen sheli baoqieyin tuoluoni jing 一切如來心祕密全身舍利寶篋印陀羅尼 (Sutra of the Dhāraṇī of the Precious Casket Seal of the Concealed Complete-Body Relics of the Essence of All Tathāgatas; Skt: Sarvatathāgata-adhiṣṭhāna-hṛdaya-guhyadhātu karaṇḍa-mudrā-dhāraṇī), translated into Chinese by the Indian monk Amoghavajra (705–774, Bukong 不空), who arrived in China ca. 720.56 It pictures an extended moment during which the Buddha encounters a stupa reduced to the form of a rubbish heap (the mound at bottom center of the picture plane); on his approach, the stupa emits rays of light (the lines emanating upward from this central mound) and the sound of praise; and the Buddha’s veneration of this stupa reveals an array of Buddhas. This moment concludes with the Buddha advocating for gaining merit by copying the text contained by the rubbish-heap stupa and for placing the text in stupas and sculptures, noting miraculous and apotropaic outcomes of doing so.57
While the rectangular shape of the Zhenguo pagoda reliefs resembles that of the printed-paper sutra frontispiece, despite differences in proportion and dimensions, the reliefs also resemble the print in their dead-center (or near dead-center) placement of objects in the picture plane.58 This compositional strategy is found in at least eighteen reliefs (e.g., figs. 4, 6, 8, 10a, 12, 16a–c, 19, 26).59 In frontispiece and reliefs alike, the distribution of figures at the left and right edges of the picture planes is distinctive, differing from the composition of pictorial handscrolls. Additionally, in their spareness of detail, the frontispiece and many, but not all, of the reliefs lack the kind of compositional density that characterizes many Buddhist prints of the Southern Song, in which much of the surface of the picture plane is covered with graphic marks.60
Ephemeral printed primers perhaps also shaped the stone-carved form of the reliefs, their logographs—transmitted in space-binding media—broadly intelligible to audiences, including local ones. Notably, the visual vocabulary of printed primers spelled out complex iconographies derived from a large and sophisticated corpus of canonical and noncanonical texts in clearly legible terms. For example, “Cowherding girls offer milk” (Mu nü xian [ru 乳] mi 牧女獻麋), the ninth relief (fig. 12), illustrates the moment at which Prince Siddhārtha ended his six years of austerity, picturing from right to left: a cow, the two cowherd girls, a lotus flower, the Prince, the tree under which he sits, numinous clouds (mingling with the tree branches), and foliage.61
Illustrated, printed primers of the Song dynasty are now lost, but their probable schema are known through Song-dynasty encyclopedias, their Ming-dynasty successors, and Ming-dynasty editions of earlier examples. One of these, the Xinbian duixiang siyan (新編對相四言, New edition of the facing illustrations, Four-Words[-in-a Group Primer]; fig. 13), contains many of the schema used in the Zhenguo pagoda reliefs. “Cowherding girls offer milk,” for example, adapts putative primer logographs to represent clouds, lotus, and cow. The Zhenguo pagoda reliefs thus reproduce established pictorial conventions, the one-to-one correspondence of primer conventions to sculpted element rendering each object intelligible in almost logographic terms.62
The iconographic complexity and schematic clarity of the reliefs, shaped by print, exist within compositions that also appear conversant with the conventions of Southern Song court painting. As I have argued elsewhere, the thirty-fifth relief, “The pheasant putting out the wildfire” (Zhi pu ye shao 雉撲野燒; fig. 14), exhibits strong typological and compositional similarities to the court painter Ma Lin’s 馬麟 (fl. ca. 1225) undated work Listening to the Wind in the Pines (Jing ting songfeng tu 靜聽松風圖), painted not later than 1246 (fig. 15).63 Specifically, the landscape found in the right-hand part of the composition of this relief resembles the lower portion of Listening to the Wind.64 In this relief, the compositional formulae of court painting are adapted to local relief carving, suggesting their transmission from the court at Hangzhou to Quanzhou, home to the largest enclave of Southern Song imperial family members resident outside the capital.65
Beyond their apparent use of compositional formulae found in court paintings, the Zhenguo pagoda reliefs also preserve in stone elements of court painting style. Specifically, depictions of water found in the tenth, eleventh, and nineteenth reliefs—“The Divine King contends for the almsbowl” (Tian wang zheng bo 天王爭鉢), “Bathing in the Nairañjanā” ([Ni 尼] Lian he zao yu 連河澡浴), and “Three beasts fording the river” (San shou du he 三獸渡河; figs. 16a–c)—use different schema for representing its kinetic surface.66 These schema resemble those famously associated with the court artist Ma Yuan 馬遠 (ca. 1160–1225) in the undated album Water (Shui 水)—notably, Stacked Waves and Layered Ripples (Ceng bo die lang 層波疊浪), Light Breeze at [Lake] Dongting (Dongting fengxi 洞庭風細), and Clear, Shallow Water [in a] Cold Pond (Han tang qing qian 寒塘清淺; figs. 16d–f).67 The resemblance of the schema for depicting water in the Zhenguo pagoda reliefs to those used by Ma Yuan underscores the visual relation between these reliefs and the visual culture of the Southern Song court.
The style and subject matter of the Zhenguo pagoda reliefs also link them to the networks of Fujian painters known to and/or summoned to serve at the Southern Song court. The inscription replicates verbatim text found in three Tripiṭaka titles of the period, one of specific significance to Quanzhou.68 Moreover, the pictorial image of the twenty-eighth relief, “Two dragons vie for the pearl” (Er long zheng zhu 二龍爭珠; fig. 17), indicates its imperial connections twice over. First, it loosely echoes a design template for an ornamental panel in Li Jie’s (1065–1110) [Treatise on] State Building Methods (Yingzao fashi 營造法式), first published in 1103.69 More significantly, it resonates with the fifth and sixth dragons depicted in Chen Rong’s 陳容 (ca. 1210–after 1262, jinshi 1235) Nine Dragons (Jiulong tu 九龍圖; fig. 18), dated 1244.70 Chen, a native of Changle county, Fujian, passed through the National University (Taixue 太學), served in office in Jiangxi, near Mount Longhu, and gained recognition from the Song emperor Lizong 理宗 (1205–1264, r. 1224–1264).71 Chen moved fluidly between localities in Fujian and Jiangxi, as well as the capital, his pictorial formulae, schema, styles, and subjects circulating in the network of imperial institutions and administrative outposts in southern China.
Between the documented transfer of imperial icons to imperial scions resident in Fuzhou and the large population of imperial family members resident in Quanzhou after the Move South (Nan du 南渡), this is not surprising, despite the lack of clear evidence for the transfer of ritual or decorative paintings from the court to Quanzhou.72 John Chaffee has shown that the largest enclave of imperial clan members resident anywhere in the empire lived in Quanzhou, and thus this property transfer presumably supported the ritual and decorative needs of the 338 imperial scions resident in Quanzhou in 1131.73 Roughly a century later, ca. 1228–33, 1,427 clan members resided within the Quanzhou Harmonious Lineage Hall (Muzong yuan 睦宗院) that lay catty-corner from the Kaiyuan si; an additional 887 imperial clan members resided outside it; and by the fall of the Song, perhaps as many as 3,000 imperial scions lived in the city.74 It is therefore possible that, through the proximity to or the agency of locally resident members of the imperial clan, Quanzhou-based artists and artisans acquired access to court paintings—or, alternatively, their drawing aids or copies of them—that served as models for carving pictorial images in stone.
Like carved stone, cast bronze—whether gilded or not—served as a durable medium for the making of Buddhist monuments. Yet, despite their durability, the longevity of carved stone and cast bronze is contingent on the continuing importance of their visual form, function, or content; in this respect, they are curiously like printed paper. These seemingly imperishable, time-binding media of Buddhist objects thus share the struggle to survive with ephemeral, space-binding ones. Notably, the properties of time- and space-binding media converge when portable objects are made of hard-wearing materials, that is, when mobility and durability align. Such Buddhist monuments may thus migrate as space-binding media in networks of transmission and communication; but as time-binding media, they do so in lasting ways. However, the possible destruction (or loss in transmission) of such ostensibly indestructible things meant that portable, durable, three-dimensional Buddhist objects also benefited from their reproduction as low-relief images—the sculptural analogue of two-dimensional images—in hard-wearing media.75
So-called Aśoka pagodas, styled to resemble the bronze dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes patronized by Qian Hongchu and their three-dimensional stone copies, were also carved on the Zhenguo pagoda base, rendered in its reliefs and reproduced three-dimensionally in its architectural details.76 In fact, two examples of WuYue dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes excavated from counties adjacent to Fuzhou, ruled by WuYue at that time, indicate their circulation within this state.77 One, found in Lianjiang 连江 county in 1953, to the southeast of Fuzhou, is dated to 955; it was found inside a larger stone pagoda crushed beneath the city wall (fig. 20).78 A nearly identical example was excavated in Minhou 闽侯 county, to the northwest of Fuzhou, in 1971; it did not contain a printed sutra.79
In the narrative program, two reliefs picture such Aśoka pagodas. The twenty-second, “Yaśas manifesting supernatural powers” (Yeshe xian tong 耶舍現通; fig. 19), illustrates the moment at which King Aśoka’s spiritual advisor Yaśas used light rays emanating from his finger to distribute the 84,000 reliquaries containing relics for the building of 84,000 stupas, previously noted, as pictured.80 The twenty-fourth, “Sahe pays homage to the stupa” (Sahe chao ta 薩訶朝塔), illustrates the moment in the fourth century when Liu Sahe 劉薩訶 (345–ca. 436; also known as Huida 慧達) discovered one of King Aśoka’s 84,000 reliquaries of the Historical Buddha, 19 of which Yaśas is said to have dispatched to China, including to Luoyang 洛陽, Jianye 建鄴, Maoyin 鄮陰, Linzi 臨淄, and Chengdu 成都.81
Across the three centuries, from the first appearances of bronze dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes under WuYue rule in eastern Fujian to their rendering as Aśoka pagodas in tales related to Aśoka on the base of the Zhenguo pagoda, this archetypal form morphed from an object made of gilt bronze to low-relief representations of its precursors that function more like two-dimensional images, to elements of architectural detail and to various freestanding stone monuments. While WuYue gilt-bronze examples circulated in greater Fuzhou in the mid-tenth century, as noted above, by the mid-eleventh century their forms—which became inextricably linked to representations of Aśoka pagodas in the Zhenguo pagoda—were replicated three-dimensionally in stone at sites of high visibility in the Quanzhou hinterland. The Stone Shoot Bridge (Shisun qiao 石笋橋), putatively built ca. 1049 at the beginning of the Huangyou era (1049–54), hosted an undated stone example (fig. 21); the Wan’an Bridge 萬安橋 hosted another putatively dated to 1059, the year the bridge was completed (now represented by a Sanskrit-inscribed, reconstructed placeholder).82 Then, nearly a century later, in 1145, two such stone pagodas were installed in the main courtyard of the Kaiyuan si, one of which bears a dedicatory inscription on its base (fig. 22).83
By 1238, when the putatively Indian forms of the dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes were reproduced in the stonework framing of the Zhenguo pagoda base and used as models for Aśoka pagodas in its pictorial reliefs, their possible sources were multiplex. The formal relationships of the various objects noted above are self-evident, but absent clear dates for all related examples, their sequence cannot be determined definitively. Consequently, it is impossible to know whether the cloud-footed apron (yunjiao zhuan 雲腳磚) and the lotus-leaf framing (yanglian zhuan, helian zhuan 仰蓮磚, 合蓮磚) of the Aśoka pagoda depicted in “Yaśas manifesting supernatural powers” (see fig. 19) and that reproduced three-dimensionally in the cladding of the Zhenguo pagoda Sumeru-style base (Xumi zuo 须弥座) derive from bronze examples perhaps available locally, such as the WuYue dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes (see fig. 20); small, stone-built pagodas such as those of the Stone Shoot (see fig. 21) and Wan’an Bridges; or both.84 The local presence of the Song imperial family from 1131, its Harmonious Lineage Hall presumably built using the conventions of imperial architectural style and located mere meters from the Kaiyuan si, establishes the context in which the makers of the Zhenguo pagoda may have appropriated for their design archetypal imperial architectural models, such as a stepped-and-stacked-base square column (Jieji diese zuo jiaozhu 階基疊澀坐角柱) from the Yingzao fashi (fig. 23), or local buildings related to it.85 The builders of the Zhenguo pagoda may also have reprised Indian forms imported to China more recently than those of Aśoka pagodas, forms such as those exemplified by a kaṇṭha (fig. 24), a recessed panel with plank moldings, an example of which from Ramasvamy Temple, Cheranmadevi, Tirunelveli district, Tamil Nadu, of ca. 995–1010, indicates an architectural form perhaps transferred to Quanzhou by its substantial expatriate Tamil population or vice versa.86
The unexpected alignment of durable and mobile media fashioned the Zhenguo pagoda base as a nexus for local, imperial, and Indian Ocean networks. Absent clear textual documentation, it is impossible to know if its makers intended the Zhenguo pagoda to evoke some, all, or none of the monuments noted above. Nonetheless, the formal properties of the pagoda resonated with those transmitted in each of these circuits. Thus, the Zhenguo pagoda enabled these object networks and their intersections to remain visible well past the historical moment when the portable bronze dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes made in WuYue, and their stone replications, were largely lost.
The Zhenguo pagoda base served as a nexus of diverse iconographic and stylistic networks, ideas and places connected to Quanzhou by print, painting, bronze, and stone. These networks were as narrow as those linking the Zhenguo pagoda from its site just to the east of the main courtyard of the Kaiyuan si to the main courtyard and to the local Song imperial family members housed just outside the west walls of the temple precinct; as extensive within China as their connections to Hangzhou, site of the former WuYue and contemporaneous Southern Song courts; and as expansive as those of the Indian Ocean world of Chinese merchants, resident non-Chinese aliens, imperial scions, and Buddhist clergy. But if, as this article proposes, the reliefs of the Zhenguo pagoda base preserve ephemera, then it should also be possible to invert this relationship: the content that fleetingly circulated in the various networks linked to Quanzhou, pictured—and thus preserved—in the Zhenguo pagoda base reliefs, should be able to serve as a lexicon with which to decode monuments imbricated in these networks, their iconography obscured by the loss of their short-lived sources.
To test this proposition, this article concludes with an example of a monument fabricated in these Quanzhou networks, the source and iconography of which have long been lost. Perhaps the most peculiar objects “native” to Quanzhou are its “stone shoots” (shisun 石笋; fig. 25). These conical pillars, at least one surviving example of which was ostensibly built in the eleventh century when Quanzhou had an Indian Buddhist temple and perhaps a significant Tamil population, are identified by some scholars as possible Śiva “linga” (linjia 林加) or “male genitalia” (nanxing shengzhiqi 男性生殖器).87 Two examples (of at least three that survived to the twentieth century), one at the Stone Shoot Bridge (see fig. 25) and another at the Wan’an Bridge of 1059 (likely a recent placeholder for a lost work), suggest a consistency of form, scale, and context. Neither possesses a documented relationship to local Brahmanic institutions, but both were located in proximity to Aśoka-style pagodas located on these bridges, noted above.88
The unknown, now-lost forms represented by the “stone shoots” resemble clearly labeled—and putatively lexical—imagery found on a Zhenguo pagoda base relief. Specifically, the “stone shoots” appear to be three-dimensional doppelgängers of the form pictured in two dimensions at the center of the twenty-third relief, “Boys heaping sand” (Tongzi ju sha 童子聚沙; fig. 26). Differing by one character from lines in the Lotus Sutra, the inscription makes clear that the unusual conical form pictured is a sand heap:
Then [when it] comes to boys playing, heaping sand to make Buddha-stupas, So, all of them [and] more, every one [has] already completed the Path to Buddhahood [i.e., attained Enlightenment].89
乃至童子戲, 聚沙爲佛塔, 如是諸人等,皆已成佛道。
Further Buddhist texts that describe similar practices support the identification of the conical form pictured in the twenty-third relief—and by extension, its architectonic, stone-built analogues—as sand heaps.90
Here, the twenty-third relief functions like an illustrated primer: it uses inscribed text to correlate logographic schema (conical form) and its object (sand heap), thereby making other images and/or objects of this type intelligible absent corroborative text.91 Used thus, the relief subsequently serves as a decoder key for recognizing and/or naming the objects later described as stone shoots, suggesting that they represent, in durable form, sand heaps, objects both ephemeral and immobile, their medium binding neither time nor space. Buddhist texts indicate that sand heaps were proxies for Buddha-stupas, often associated with boys and riverbanks.92 The location of the “stone shoots”—built near water and atop bridges—replicates those of sand heaps at river’s edge described in sutras; their proximity to Aśoka-style pagodas adorning Quanzhou bridges perhaps underscores the sand heaps’ function as pagoda surrogates.
Poised at the intersection of interregional Buddhist textual culture and local artisanal fabrication, the stone sand heaps embodied impermanence more permanently than they indexed the textual source of their iconography. Presumably for locals in Song-dynasty Quanzhou, the imagery of relief 23 unsurprisingly confirmed the identity and iconography of the stone shoots that proliferated in and around the city.93 Indeed, other reliefs also simply captured the things of everyday life in Quanzhou ca. 1238: its banyan trees, with their distinctive leaf-clusters (see fig. 4); its local tigers and bamboo (see fig. 9); its gates of princely residences (see fig. 5), exemplified by the Harmonious Lineage Hall; its well-stocked urban ponds (see fig. 6), like its Pond for the Release of Living Beings; and even its wellheads, as found in the eighteenth relief, “The empty well and the crazed elephant” (Qiu jing kuang xiang 丘井狂象), which resembles surviving local examples from the Ming dynasty.94
Built from rock, and through the agency of the carver’s knife, the Zhenguo pagoda reliefs transmit in time and fix in space content once represented in paper (manuscript texts and images, printed sutras and primers) and other transitory media (silk, bronze, and even sand), as this article has argued. Their form, their imagery, and their process thus evoke—and invert—the iterative intermediality of WuYue dharani sutra-style pagoda-boxes: whereas Qian Hongchu translated an ideal pagoda into an immense corpus of interdependent bronze and paper artifacts (i.e., time- and space-binding media), the more durable medium (bronze) housing the more perishable (paper), at the Kaiyuan si, representations of various forms in space-binding media, such as paper and small bronze objects, provided the imagery and forms rendered in the time-binding medium of carved stone.
The gazeteer of the Kaiyuan temple indicates that its late-Ming compiler (or perhaps popular audiences) found the reliefs to be extraordinary, explaining their exceptional nature in colloquial, not art historical, terms:
Below, [on the] base [of the pagoda, are] repeated [examples of] carved green stone [i.e., green granite], together [and] variously, [they are] completely out of this world. [At once] durable [yet] finely detailed, magnificent [and] handsome, all [are fashioned with] devilish skill, [namely, the work of] divine chisels. [They are] not [something] that human labor is able [to realize].95
下座復鐫青石。具諸化境。堅緻偉麗。皆鬼工神斧。非人力所能也。
This passage emphasizes the materiality of the reliefs, namely, their execution in “green stone” (qing shi 青石). Perhaps a reference to the green granite used in Quanzhou buildings, it may not be a coincidence that “green stone” is exactly the term used in the Fozu tongji (Comprehensive history of Buddhist patriarchs) to describe the color of the Aśoka pagoda discovered by Liu Sahe in Kuaiji (near Hangzhou, Zhejiang), this term linking the Zhenguo pagoda to the tradition of these reliquaries.96 The passage also emphasizes the strength of this stone as a medium in which to fix images, its robustness and its precision (堅緻 jianzhi) for doing so noteworthy. Furthermore, by using the term jianzhi, also applicable to metalwork, the passage indicates concerns shared across media; this is not intermediality per se, but might be understood as a hint toward it.97 Despite their differences, the interests of the premodern commentator and the twenty-first-century art historian thus share some common ground.
For the contemporary viewer, the Zhengguo pagoda reliefs, on account of their seemingly imperishable medium, preserve evidence of the overlapping networks of paper, silk, bronze, and stone in which Quanzhou was imbricated, as this article has shown. Moreover, as this article has also demonstrated, the texts inscribed on these reliefs enable this substantial networked repository of ephemera to serve as a lexicon of the local artistic and pictorial forms found in thirteenth-century Quanzhou, establishing it as a nexus of iconographic meaning. Overall, this article has argued that an iterative intermediality, the repeated reproduction of forms between media, enabled durable traces of ephemera—of which surviving examples exist by accident, and against all odds—to materialize, and thereby substantiate, the iconographic circuits and artifact networks of the Zhenguo pagoda, revealing forgotten histories, fugitive forms, and traces of objects all but forgotten.
Thanks are due to many who have supported the research, development, and writing of this article. These include: Eugene Wang, who invited me to present a paper on the Zhenguo pagoda at Harvard; Profs. Antoine Gournay and Roslyn Hammers, who, respectively, invited me to present drafts of this essay at the Sorbonne’s Salon Asiatique and at Hong Kong University; colleagues in Fuzhou and Quanzhou, whose knowledge and advice support my work; and the anonymous peer reviewers, whose comments also improved the text. I am also grateful to Risha Lee, Lora Miki, and Ryan Whyte for their images; without them, there would be much less to see.
Jennifer Purtle, PhD (Yale), 2001, is associate professor of Chinese and East Asian art history in the Department of Art History at the University of Toronto. Currently completing two manuscripts, Placing Local Painting in Late Imperial Fujian and Forms of Cosmopolitanism in Sino-Mongol Quanzhou, she is the author of Reading Revolution: Art and Literacy during China’s Cultural Revolution (2016); and articles and essays published in journals including Art History, Journal of Asian Studies, Medieval Encounters, Orientations, and The Medieval Globe as well as in volumes edited by James Elkins, Thomas daCosta Kaufmann, Jerome Silbergeld, Eugene Wang, and Wu Hung, among others. With Hans Thomsen, she co-edited Looking Modern: East Asian Visual Culture from the Treaty Ports to World War II (2009). She served as principal investigator of the Getty Foundation Connecting Art Histories Project “Global and Postglobal Perspectives on Medieval Art and Art History” (2014–17). E-mail: jenny.purtle@utoronto.ca