High Art in Isaan

Isaan art is a medium to help remind locals of their roots.

Manote Tripathi

The Nation

   As a playground for Khmer artistic expressions for a millennium, Isaan - Thailand's Northeast - has a history that brims with creativity. Local life swayed in the currents of the Khmer kingdom's Hindu, then Buddhist, beliefs. But now, what could be considered an indigenous Isaan style is emerging in Nong Khai province.

 For a real dose of genuine Isaan art and culture, Sala Kaeo Koo, close to Nong Khai town, has plenty to offer. The cement giants in this sculpture park depict figures and scenes from Hindu and Buddhist tradition with a quirky mix of the sacred and the kitsch that's unique.

 What began as a sculpture park 32 years ago has been given temple status by it's other name, Wat Kaek (Indian temple), and attracts Buddhists from provinces all over the Northeast.

 The trickle of visitors turns to a flood over public holidays, when people arriving with flower garlands, incense sticks and candles to be placed at whichever familiar image takes their fancy.

 Opened in 1978 by Bunlua Sureerat, formerly a forest monk in Laos, the 44-rai park, three kilometres from the town centre, has grown from a few Buddhist sculptures in its early years to 209 large figures at the last count, the tallest soaring to 33 metres.

 Things slowed down a bit when Bunlua was jailed for two years - the park's brochure says the charges were "grave" but won't tell us what he was found guilty of.

After putting the finishing touches in place with the main pavilion in 1995, Bunlua died a year later. His body, seemingly defying decomposition, is on view in a glass-walled room on the third floor, surrounded by Buddha images Bunlua collected in Laos.

 Things haven't always been so stately though: the whole province was shocked in 2006 when Sala Kaeo Koo became the scene of a gangland-style execution of two members of the remaining Lao royalty, Chao Anouvongse and his wife, who were enjoying a holiday at the park.

 It's hard not to be awestruck by the sheer scale of the sculptures, which illustrate how differences in religious beliefs can bring us together rather than keep us apart. Towering over the park are huge sculptures of Lord Buddha, Shiva, the seven-headed Naga serpent and Quan Yin, the Chinese goddess of mercy. But episodes from the life of the Buddha dominate. The seven-headed serpent that shielded the Buddha during his sermon to his first five disciples looks powerful and intimidating in its coarse cement rendering. It rears as if momentarily hypnotised by the stone vision at its base - Queen Siri Mahayana giving birth to Prince Siddhartha. Next to her is the newborn prince, lotus flowers blooming beneath his first seven steps.

 The queen looks stiff and expressionless, which perhaps has to do with basic cement rendering. The flower motifs on her sarong are reminiscent of the patterns used in locally made, hand-woven textiles like mut mee. As with other sculptures, the queen stands on a tall pedestal so that viewers have to look skyward and feel dwarfed by the towering image. 

 In the next scene, a group of sculptures depict Prince Siddhartha escaping his palace to experience the real world. Then the Buddha is portrayed preaching to Angulamala, the ruthless killer who is redeemed by his conversion to Buddhism. Later we see Siddhartha as a starving ascetic receive milky rice pudding from the maiden Sujata after realising that self-mortification will not lead to enlightenment.

 But anyone studying scenes from the life of the Buddha here is bound to be distracted by the surrealism and flamboyance of the Hindu icons: Ganesh riding his rat like a horse, Shiva the Destroyer fanning out an arsenal of weapons with his 10 arms. The presence of Hinduism adds to the site's solemnity and exoticism, something not lost on the many Buddhist visitors who place garlands at the feet of the Hindu gods.

 There are new discoveries round every corner. Sprinkled among these religious images is a group of sculptures illustrating famous Isaan folklore tales, which will probably be unknown to most Thais. One section of the park is devoted to the story of Naga queen E-Khai, who fell in love with a human. Their relationship, which lasted seven years, seven months and seven days, brought a great drought to the human world because the queen failed to perform her job of bringing rain. The story is a traditional explanation for the scourge of Isaan - its annual seven-month dry season.

 The sculptures are the result of the age-old technique of cement moulding and stuccoing that's been practised in Buddhist temples since the Sukhothai Period. Their lack of refinement then is puzzling, and some of them look unfinished. Apparently the sculptors don't find local sandstone of great use to their artistic pursuits.

 But beyond the coarse surfaces lies a religious devotion that is hard to crack. And through these sculptures, the functionality of Isaan art begins to emerge: it's a medium to help remind locals of their roots, an intertwining of the redemptive power of the Buddha's teaching with mythological images of the two faiths.