The Smile of the Stone God
The Smile of the Stone God
This title swirled in my brain for almost a month, like a crazy dervish catalyzing energies. But the narrative failed to coagulate into something that made even remotely sense. And yet it came to me during a kdrama that started funny about the life of celebrities and took a turn in the last episodes with a storyline about a dead friend. Dead friend… Finding dozen missed calls on your phone after you had it on silent for a while. Calling back wishing for an answer. And then being unable to go to the funeral because that would make it real. And it’s not real, is it? There have been years now, but it still is not real.
Do you know what else isn’t real? I cannot joke with you about an incredulous experience of how I got to a dungeon (and not the kind connected to dragons) disguised as an art exhibition with a whole meditation experience added in. You would tell me I’m insane for paying 22 euros for it, and you would be right. But you would also smile. Like it…
Let me introduce you to this, in a very roundabout way, as my brain usually functions: I was leaving the country for the first time in two and a half years, so ART and MUSEUMS were definitely on the list of must-dos. I go to the official website of the city’s tourist office and browse through the collections. This one said Asian art. Cool, I was anyhow on an Asian binge for the past years, so it fits right in. Google the tickets; one said meditation hour, “awesome, I will be able to spend some time with my thoughts and the artwork.” 22 euros later, I am in front of a former telecommunications bunker, looking like a prison waiting in the scorching sun for the door to open. The lovely guide presents the whole “experience.” There are no titles to the artwork; you start by being in the dark for the duration of a piano piece, and you may meditate wherever. Chains are dangling from the ceiling, funnily enough bringing to mind a scene from a very campy series with gaythaimafiahotguys. That was the A-ha moment: this is not your regular art collection. No s**t. It was a dungeon, with a whole submission experience plotted out, not very subtly, if I may say so. Not my cup of tea at all; in a world where women lose their rights more and more, an exhibition with photos of female degradation is not quite in my alley. But the antiques are pretty rad, and, in the end, I took out of it what I wanted: the coolness of the underground in a city that does not believe in A/C and the smile of the stone god.
The sculpture was placed almost at the end of the exhibition’s first part. I think it was Khmer, and I believe it was Jayavarman, or maybe not, but that is beside the point. It was smiling lightly, very “on the nose” with its placement. And it was bathed in light. Afterglow.
I spent a better half an hour next to it, thinking of peace. Of compassion. Of how when you are some feet underground, the noise becomes dull, the heat is no longer tormenting, and life is just snapshots of passion, pain, and grace. What do we take with us after we leave? Is there a smiling god at the end of the journey praising us for making it through, like good submissive pets under the illusion of freedom? Or instead, we become ourselves smiling gods, knowledgeable, praising ourselves for discovering the divinity within. I like this one better. The ego rejoices at the idea of smiling at the end: “I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.”
Half an hour ended, and I was guided through the second part of the exhibition, a more mundane storyline of post-factum shame and penitence, almost as mundane as a list of reforms by King Jayavarman VII. It made sense in the collection’s flow, yet it did not sit right with me. And I realized why a month later, in my own living room, watching a kdrama about movie stars. I would have rather left with just that tiny shard of painful peace: The smile of the stone god.
It followed me through days and borders, because it was a reminder of a utopic wish, linked to you and to others …
“Seeing that his kingdom, which his wisdom had transformed into heaven on earth, was oppressed by death, he produced a divine elixir that brought immortality to all.”