There was no earthly reason that I should be feeling out of sorts on this sunday. The weather was dreadful, there was an overcast, and a curious gossamer mist hovered over the now sooted snow. But I wouldn't blame it on the weather.
Mom wanted to see the Art of the Yuan exhibit at the Met, and this sunday happened to be the last day of this exhibit. I had seen the exhibit twice, and was at first reluctant to go, but on second thought, how could I possibly turn down anything asked of by mom, she doesn't ask much of me. Besides, how could I say no to a visit to the Met. I never realized it till this sunday that I could traverse a good portion of the Met with such ease as if it were my very own secret garden!
Anyways, I didn't expect this third visit to the special exhibit on the world of Khubilai Khan to turn up anything new, but it certainly did. If it were up to me to name one center piece for this exhibit, I'd unhesitatingly point to the roof-ridge ornament in the shape of a legendary creature, the chiwei or chiwen(dragon's snout, 螭吻).
chiwei - roof-ridge ornament
It was sunday, so naturally, there was a larger crowd. Visitors milled about the gigantic stone sculptures of Yuan officials, bowls and plates made of pure gold and silver, and hand-sewn silk garments for women of the noble class, all securely and squarely placed behind thick plate glasses. There was an unintelligible murmur coming from the crowd, which was made up mostly of middle-aged visitors on events-packed trips from China, and Gandalf-like gray haired locals. The chiwei had always had my attention, from the first time I laid eyes on it. It sat in the center of one of the three exhibit halls. Size-wise, it was gigantic, though in the black-and-white photo next to the real thing, it seemed negligible sitting atop the roof of Yonglegong, the Daoist temple where the chiwei was originally found and rescued. I wondered what had happened to the Daoist temple, and to the other chiwei (the photo showed a pair of creatures, decorating the two protruding tips of the roof respectively). But of course I knew the answer, or rather, I shouldn't be too far off from the right answer if I guessed that the temple had burned down sometimes in the past during one of the timeperiods of turmoil, or that it was destroyed during the cultural revolution, or that the temple was recently demolished to make way for urbanization.
The chiwei's animated features were captivating. The silent wrath which emanated from its ragged teeth and bulging eyes created such a powerful presence that I thought it was too loud for the seemingly spacious exhibit hall. It had not occurred to me during my previous two trips to this exhibit, but it did during this last trip -- I think it was around the time when I was perusing the patina covering the chiwei's glazed surface that a feeling of heaviness began sinking in. The chiwei has always been portrayed as a terrifying looking creature because it is a guardian of a sort. It is a creature that supposedly wards off evil and protects the people that reside in the household on which it sits. But here it was, sitting tamely in the center of an exhibit hall, with no roof to sit on and nothing more to protect. If ever there is something worth protecting or preserving... ... if ever there is something deserving the name of "evil", it is the intangible force sweeping across that ancient land (which inexplicably prides itself in its five millenium of rich history) as it relentlessly tears down, pulls apart, chops off and blows up the last genuine vestiges of the history and past of that land.
As we wandered around the halls from relic to relic, this woman came up to us. I thought she looked like a tourist with one of the tour groups from China. She heard us speaking in Chinese and thought we might be able to answer her question. It turned out that she couldn't for the world recall which ancient Chinese artist with the surname "Yuan" had had such high accomplishment during his lifetime that a whole exhibit was now dedicated to him at the Met. Now it was my turn to look confused. But I immediately realized the lady had a firm grasp of exactly two pieces of information, that she was at an art museum, and that the special exhibit was titled Chinese Art in the "Yuan" Dynasty. Having understood exactly one word from that title, she drew a logical conclusion.
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