| Commissioner: | DanZeng |
| Dimensions: | 20 x 30 inches (Custom-Made Work) |
| Medium: | Natural Mineral Pigments and 24K Gold |
| Production Time: | Around 6 Months |
If you could brush your fingertips across the backdrop of this thangka, the first thing you’d feel is the rough texture of German iron-black pigment mingled with the scent of Tibetan butter lamp oil — this inky black isn’t a lifeless darkness, but a “realm of ignorance” kneaded with snowmelt from sacred peaks and Tibetan herbs, waiting for a streak of golden glow to pierce through. When your gaze settles, the entire thangka blooms like a waking light in the dark: Vairocana Buddha’s form rises from gilded patterns, every curve of the golden threads wrapped in the warmth of the artisan’s palm.
I. The Main Deity: The Warmth of the Dharmadhatu in Three Faces
This is the manifestation of the Dharmakaya of Vairocana — as the core of the Five Dhyani Buddhas in Tibetan Vajrayana Buddhism, it is never a cold symbol, but a “breathing embodiment of wisdom”:
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The subtle radiance of three faces: The central face has lowered lids and a softly pressed lip line, like a half-bloomed lotus petal — it embodies the inherent state of “innate purity”. The left face has slightly lifted brows, with a touch of softness at the corner of the eye, as if it can cradle the cries of all beings, corresponding to the vow to liberate. The right face has a faint curve at the lip, with relaxed brow ridges holding the ease of seeing karmic truth. The three faces share one body, even the cascading hair behind the ears draped in the same golden glow — a gentle annotation of “the Dharmakaya embraces all forms; every sentient being’s nature holds buddhahood”.
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The secret language of the Dharma Wheel and mudra: Hands form the Dhyana Mudra, cupping a Dharma Wheel with eight gilded spokes, each edge dotted with rice-grain-sized pearl powder — the eight spokes correspond to the Eightfold Path, while the pearl glow is “the wisdom that wakes in ignorance”. If you trace the curve of the spokes with your fingertips, you might almost feel the tangible weight of “using the Dharma as a boat to cross the maze of delusion”.
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The gifts of heaven and earth in adornments: The necklace is a scrollwork pattern rolled from gold foil, every curve wrapped in the deep blue of lapis lazuli powder; the lotus vines on the armlets are tinted with turquoise powder mixed with butter — the luster of natural minerals is never a harsh glare, but a warmth steeped in snowmelt. Stare long enough, and you’ll feel the deity isn’t painted on the cloth, but grown from the inky backdrop.
II. Black-and-Gold Craftsmanship: Glow Forged by Time
This isn’t a “painted” thangka — it’s a work of devotion, every step wrapped in Tibetan rituals and匠心 (artisan’s devotion):
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Inky backdrop: Warmth in ignorance
When mixing the iron-black base color, the artisan first goes to a monastery to scoop a spoonful of oil from a butter lamp, then grinds the iron-black mineral powder with the juices of saffron and gentian. After three rounds of pounding and straining, the base hue holds a faint warm dark brown, never cold enough to repel people — as the old artisans say: “Ignorance isn’t a dead end; it’s soft earth waiting for light.”
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Gold use: Light warmed by palm heat
Grinding gold powder starts in the Yin hour (3–5 a.m.): a solid gold nugget is placed in an antelope horn mortar, then ground with a yak bone pestle for three hours — rush it, and the gold powder clumps; take too long, and it loses its luster. When painting the golden lines, the artisan chants scriptures, and the warmth of their fingertips seeps into the gold powder through the tip of a wolf-hair brush — look at the swirling cloud patterns in Vairocana’s nimbus: every curve is unbroken, for that’s the artisan’s breath, woven into the golden threads as they held their own.
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Mineral colors: Gifts of heaven and earth
The skin tone is mixed from pearl powder and milk — not a stark white, but the hue of just-peeled lotus seed flesh. The blues in the adornments are sifted lapis lazuli powder: the deep shades like the floor of Nam Co Lake, the light ones like the sky above snow-capped peaks. These colors never fade; even centuries later, the gold will still hold warmth, the blue still stay moist — as if the lifespan of snow mountains and lakes has been borrowed into the thangka.
III. More Than a Painting: Breath Before the Shrine
Before Tibetan shrines, this thangka is never just a “hanging decoration”:
When the butter lamps light up at dawn, the golden patterns steep in warm glow, and Vairocana’s face softens like moonlight steeped in honey. When practitioners meditate, they first count the eight spokes of the Dharma Wheel, then settle their breath along the curve of the golden threads — the moment their breathing slows, the inky darkness seems kneaded open by the golden glow, and their own thoughts soften along with the deity’s gentle bearing.
When an old阿妈 dusts the thangka, she gently brushes the golden patterns with a cashmere cloth, murmuring, “May this light also fall on my grandson’s textbooks” — this isn’t just a painting; it’s “wisdom” and “longing” stitched into the ink and gold.