Light of Devotion: Oil Lamps of Kerala

In Light of Devotion: Oil Lamps of Kerala, Carol Radcliffe Bolon centers the bell metal oil vilakku (lamp) in a stylistic study of early cast-metal art in Kerala. Case studies present a variety of Hindu oil-lamp types and styles, with explanations provided for identifying dates and stylistic and technical groupings. These discussions, in turn, reinforce an overarching argument in the book that shared stylistic and technical details in the region's figural oil lamps and cast-metal images can aid in establishing a stylistic chronology for the Kerala-style metal image.This proposal to extend the study of regional bronze images to include figural oil lamps presents itself as both a response and a solution to circumstances that have limited scholarship on Kerala's sculptural history. Restrictions on access and loss resulting from the region's climate, spoliation, and temple renovations have determined the limits within which Kerala's temple sculptures have been studied in situ. By suggesting that the figural images contained in Kerala's metal oil lamps share the “style characteristics of sacred bimbas (images) and broaden the surviving and documented body of early work,” Bolon confronts a persistent issue concerning scope, as few early Kerala-style bronzes have been documented (114). Relative to the prolific number of bronzes known from the Chola period (ninth–thirteenth c.) in the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu, for instance, and our robust understanding of the artistic developments of the Chola period as a result, far less is known about the historical and stylistic development of bronze images in Kerala. Kerala's interregional cultural and political history—and, consequently, the presence of styles from adjacent South Indian artistic traditions in Kerala's premodern art history—compounds matters. Mary Beth Heston's influential article on the identifiably Kerala style of bronzes is the rare exception to the general propensity in scholarship for focusing on the import of external influences.1Light of Devotion is an ample demonstration of how much is left unconsidered when functional objects such as oil lamps are contravened in the study of regional art histories. With its abundant photographs and stylistic analyses of several unpublished metal oil lamps in public and private collections, this work is a welcome reminder of the historical significance of functional objects in a study of style. Readers will benefit from Bolon's generous descriptions of the stylistic features, iconographic programs, and casting techniques of metal oil lamps, as well as explanations of their stages of historical development. In a few instances, arguments that foreground the iconography and style of metal lamps to identify their place and period of production refer to abridged spatial and temporal contexts that complicate the stylistic chronology presented. In addition, limited comparisons between lamps and images make the book's proposal of a panoptic approach for determining the date and style of temple bronzes more provisional than established.Chapter 1 (“Art of Devotion”) introduces readers to the cultural and religious symbolism of light, the functional purpose of oil lamps in South Asian culture, the use of oil lamps for Hindu devotion, and the long history of oil lamps as dev danam (gifts given in the sacred context). The difficult task of conclusively dating metal oil lamps from Kerala is made clear early on, as lamps with inscribed dates are described as rare. A tree-shaped oil lamp at the Denver Art Museum (acc. no. 1964.8A-E) dated 1555 ce, for instance, is identified as the earliest known metal oil lamp to have an inscribed date. Still, Bolon anticipates that future paleographic studies of lamp inscriptions will provide a “datable style” (10) and an “important anchor” for “Kerala bronze art where otherwise scholars have been uncertain for decades” (11). This chapter includes a list of the private and public collections consulted and a discussion of the book's thematic approach of situating figural oil lamps in dialogue with temple bronzes.Chapter 2 (“Classification”) lists Kerala and pan-Indian lamp types and their regional terminology, and presents the book's focus on three functional types of oil lamps: suspension, stationary, and portable. Also explained is the emphasis throughout the book on the five specific designs that “embody strong elements of distinct Kerala tradition” (19). While these functional and design types—namely gaja (elephant) lamps, vimana (temple) lamps, vriksha (tree) lamps, vanchi (boat) lamps, and lamps that portray a mythic event—are described in detail, several other impressive examples are discussed in the book. Among them are the changalavatta (handheld lamp with a built-in oil receptacle), the kindi vilakku (lamp in the form of a water pot), and the nagathiri (prayer lamp with snake heads).Chapter 3 (“Suspension Lamps”) discusses hanging lamps in a variety of designs, including those in the shape of elephants and temples, and double-sided lamps that feature mythic scenes. Discussions of provenance and stylistic comparability accompany dates presented for the case studies in this chapter. For example, a date of no later than the early twelfth century is suggested for elephant-shaped oil lamps based on the discovery of an intact lamp in the undisturbed relic chamber of King Parakramabahu I (r. 1153–86) in Dadigama (Sri Lanka), its stylistic resemblance (with minor differences) to an elephant-shaped lamp in the Thrissur State Museum and one in a museum in Mumbai, and the argument for a Thripunitura (central Kerala) provenance of the comparable example in the collection of the Thrissur State Museum.The Dadigama case study, in particular, is identified as “an example of Chera art” in reference to medieval Kerala's Chera kingdom (ca. 800–1124 ce) (23). The suggestion that the lamp was likely “exported to Sri Lanka before 1150 [ce]” is explained as resulting from a “relationship of traditions” that made it probable that an elephant-shaped lamp from Kerala was gifted to a Buddhist king in Sri Lanka (26). The geographical proximity of southern India and Sri Lanka, the use of processional elephants and oil lamps in both regions, a connected history of trade and culture, and a common Buddhist identity are all mentioned in this context. Although Bolon describes Kerala as “predominantly Buddhist” up until the tenth century, it is worth noting that archaeological and inscriptional evidence affirms the presence, rather than the predominance, of Buddhism in Kerala in that period.While the author's discussions of the Dadigama, Thrissur, and Mumbai case studies make for a compelling argument for the shared style of these elephant-shaped lamps, less established is the attribution of these three and other metal oil lamps to a specific workshop in the Kochi area (central Kerala) in the Chera period. A collection of roughly eighty oil lamps given to the Thrissur State Museum from Kochi—including by the administration of the Shri Poornathrayesa temple in Thripunitura, the prime minister of Kochi, and the Kochi royal family—is mentioned apropos the suggestion that a metal workshop existed for lamps and other objects given to the Shri Poornathrayesa temple. However, as the temple's history in the Chera period is not discussed, and as the Shri Poornathrayesa temple is described in the context of the Kochi kingdom whose rulers arrived in Kochi in ca. 1405 ce, the twelfth-century or earlier date proposed for a workshop in Thripunitura is left unclear. This, in turn, makes related arguments equivocal, such as that one metal workshop or one artisan was responsible for several oil lamps discussed and that elephant-shaped lamps in Dadigama, the Thrissur State Museum, and one discovered in Jogeshvari “were created in a workshop in Thripunitura no later than the early 12th century” (29).Notwithstanding the discussions of the stylistic features that potentially link these elephant-shaped lamps and the terminus ante quem of the Dadigama lamp, the apparent extrapolation of a detail from a 1924 article by O. C. Gangoly might also complicate their proposed attribution to a workshop in Thripunitura. Gangoly's study of lamps at the Thrissur State Museum included the aforementioned case study of the elephant-shaped lamp dated by Bolon alongside the Dadigama lamp to the twelfth century or earlier. Although Gangoly's article is cited as having recorded that these lamps were “used in the temple adjoining the Maharaja's palace” Gangoly speculated on the point, writing that the lamps “must have formed the ritual paraphernalia of some important temples (most probably of the temple adjoining the Maharaja's Palace)” (29).2 In addition, a later discussion in chapter 3 of a bird-shaped suspension lamp, also at the Thrissur State Museum and gifted by the Maharaja of Kochi, leaves open the possibility that lamps donated to the Thrissur State Museum from Kochi might have included those not associated with a workshop in Thripunitura. Bolon translates an inscription (“Koikkal Mukkal Vattathe”) on this lamp as a reference to the sixteenth-century Koikkal Palace and Mukkal Vattom temple in southern Kerala (62).Chapter 4 (“Stationary Lamps”) introduces mada vilakku (wall-niche lamp), kavara vilakku (branching-tree lamp), nila vilakku (standing lamp), and kindi vilakku, dating from the thirteenth century and after. The kindi vilakku, in particular, is interesting for its resemblance to the distinctively rounded chamber and single spout of the kindi, a vessel commonly used in Kerala to wash one's hands and feet. This footed lamp type is described as retaining the form of the chamber of the kindi, with two additional spouts, the occasional light reflector or windbreaker, a pivot that could be used for hanging the lamp, and a key that allows for the height of the lamp's oil plate to be adjusted. Observing that a lamp of this type is also known as a “Portuguese whale oil lamp,” Bolon theorizes that its “oil chamber was the attraction for the creation of the South Indian kindi vilakku” (89). In the final chapter of the book, an example of a kindi vilakku at the Napier Museum (acc. no. 112) and dated ca. 1800 from chapter 4 is recalled for its congruence with the design instructions given for the commission of a lamp in a twelfth-century letter discovered in the Cairo Geniza (115). Bolon concludes that the contents of the letter and the similarities of the kindi vilakku to Portuguese whale lamps “proves such lamps were made in Kerala or coastal Karnataka on order to a foreign trader,” although their production for local consumption is also acknowledged (117).Chapter 5 (“Portable Lamps”) describes changalavatta (handheld lamps with built-in oil receptacles and spoons), kodi vilakku (handheld lamps that are commonly used for prayer or arti), kuthu vilakku (carrying lamps), and processional torches known as vanchi vilakku (boat-shaped lamps), with examples selected from Kerala, Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, and Cambodia. The lamps discussed in this chapter date primarily from later periods, although a stunning composite handheld lamp from twelfth-century Karnataka is identified (fig. 104). The resemblance of changalavatta to the shape of Greek and Roman lamps is noted alongside the presence of Greek traders in Kerala's early history and the suggestion, following George Woodcock, that the Greeks “brought their skills in construction and metal work” to the region (96).3As so few vanchi vilakku are known, Bolon's discovery of as many as fifteen late examples of boat-shaped lamps in a private collection in Chennai is significant. Vanchi vilakku are described as having a standard number of oil cups (five), and it is explained that despite their classification as lamps, they functioned as torches meant to be carried on wooden staffs in procession in temples and festivals. The earliest vanchi vilakku discussed, in the collection of the Philadelphia Museum of Art (acc. no. 1994-148-109a), is dated to the seventeenth century.Chapter 6 (“Extra Parts”) examines the “disassociated” components, such as the figures, crowning elements, and prabha (framing arch) of oil lamps that have been collected as separate objects. The analysis in this chapter of the images in miniature that originally stood at the center of the oil plates of suspension-type lamps is especially insightful. Bolon identifies a 3.5-inch tall Ardhanarishvara at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (acc. no. 1987.142.348) as one such example and dates the object to the twelfth century as well as to the “high point in the creation of suspension oil lamps” (108). Also of interest is the argument presented for identifying a duo of Kartikeya and his peacock vahana (vehicle) at the Peabody Essex Museum (acc. no. E302038) as a separated part of a suspension oil lamp, and its similarity to another that was auctioned in 2015 (112).The seventh and final chapter (“Conclusion”) reiterates the aim of Light of Devotion to prompt interest in the history of oil lamps and the history of style and iconography of cast-metal images in Kerala. It summarizes several salient points, among them Kerala's limited access to copper for metalwork, the scale and iconography of Kerala's sculptures, and metal casting techniques that suggest a distinctly regional tradition. A proposal that artists who produced images in wood, stone, and metal in Kerala trained in the same workshops reinforces the crux of the book's argument, namely, that the stylistic and technical history preserved in Kerala's metal oil lamps can help to broaden the known corpus of images from Kerala and advance scholarship on the subject.The strengths of Light of Devotion lie in the sheer number of oil lamp types it introduces to the reader and the detailed analyses presented in its case studies. The stylistic chronology for metal oil lamps from Kerala proposed in this work, however, is complicated by seemingly anachronous references to places and periods, like a “Kochi Chera” kingdom in the twelfth century and the conflation of Kochi with Thripunitura. While inscriptions show that the Cheras’ presence extended throughout most of Kerala, including in Thripunitura, there is little to support the specification of a Kochi Chera kingdom. The conflation of Kochi with Thripunithura, presumably because of their proximity, would have similarly benefited from the clarification that Kochi's rise to prominence dates to 1341 ce after a flood that year created what became the port of Kochi.Proposals for identifying streams of potential influence, as implied, for example, in the discussion of Greek traders and changalavatta, remain conjectural in the absence of dated and comparative evidence. The same arguably applies in chapter 3, where the difference between lamps that have hydrostatic reservoirs for dispensing oil and lamps that instead have siphoning devices is briefly discussed, along with the theory that the “idea for [the latter] technology may have entered India from Syria” (63). The mention of Kerala's “Syrian Christians” in this context should also be considered alongside the historical character of Syrian Christianity in Kerala, which was represented by diverse communities of Christians.The specific stylistic chronology for figural oil lamps presented in Light of Devotion and the related argument that this chronology can aid in identifying and dating previously unknown Kerala-style bronzes are arguably unresolved for now. Bolon does acknowledge that more can be known. For example, case studies throughout the book reference the presence of inscriptions where available, including inscriptions that are untranslated. The expectation that the paleographic analysis of lamp inscriptions will be useful for determining the “datable style” of lamps remains linked, however, to the possibility that these dates may also “help solve [the other] puzzle—the dating of individual cast bronze figures of deities made in Kerala” (10).In an all-too-brief section on metal sculptures in a 1978 publication on Kerala's temples, H. Sarkar wrote of the “various restrictions” that had limited his access to temple bronzes.4 In proposing to expand our knowledge of bronze images from what we can learn from the study of figural oil lamps, Light of Devotion responds to circumstances that are essentially unchanged in the forty-six years since Sarkar's survey was published. While it remains to be seen whether these oil lamps will, as Bolon hopes, lead to the recognition of the hand of an artisan or the style of a workshop in the same way that has been made possible for Chola bronzes, this work takes critical steps in that direction.