Provenance:
Alice and Nasli M. Heeramaneck, New York
Christian Humann (Pan-Asian Collection), 1974-1982
Robert Hatfield Ellsworth, New York, 1982-1990
Sotheby's, New York, October 5, 1990, no. 23
Collection of Joel Shapiro
Published:
Pratapaditya Pal, The Sensuous Immortals. A Selection of Sculptures from the Pan-Asian Collection, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles, 1977, cat. no. 38
Alice N. Heeramaneck, Masterpieces of Indian Sculpture from the Former Collections of Nasli M. Heeramaneck, Verona, 1979, cat. no. 89
Vishakha N. Desai and Darielle Mason, Gods, Guardians, and Lovers: Temple Sculptures from North India A.D. 700-1200, The Asia Society Galleries in association with Mapin Publishing,1993) pp. 255-256, cat. no. 66.
Exhibited:
“The Sensuous Immortals. A Selection of Sculptures from the Pan-Asian Collection,” Los Angeles County Museum of Art, October 25, 1977-January 15, 1978
"Gods, Guardians, and Lovers: Temple Sculptures from North India A.D. 700-1200," Asia Society Galleries, New York, March 31–August 15, 1993; Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, October 10–November 28, 1993
Marichi, the Buddhist goddess of dawn and light, rises above a lively procession of animals and diminutive figures. Her name derives from the Sanskrit word for a ray of light, and her associations with the sun, protection, and martial power give her a distinctive place within Buddhist imagery.
The goddess stands with one foot planted firmly on the base and the other resting on a small lotus, her right knee bent in alidhasana, the martial stance of an archer. This posture has a particular resonance in the sculpture of central and western India, where it was also used for images of Durga as Mahishasuramardini, the goddess who destroys the buffalo demon. The connection is suggestive: although Marichi is a Buddhist deity, her imposing stance and commanding presence belong to a wider visual language shared by the region’s Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain traditions.
Marichi has three faces and probably eight arms, although the hands and their attributes are now lost. Her central face has slightly contracted brows that convey her protective and martial nature; to either side are a serene female face and the head of a sow. The three crowns rise almost as one, their forms unified by the worn kirtimukha, or “face of glory,” at the center. The softness of the animal face is carefully integrated with the treatment of the two human faces.
The base is the source of one of the sculpture's most unusual features. Marichi is shown riding a team of seven boars, the animals traditionally associated with her solar nature. Here, however, an eighth creature appears at the far right. Its elongated neck and forward-turned head suggest a lion, the vehicle of Durga. If this identification is correct, the additional animal may have been introduced to balance the composition without altering Marichi’s canonical seven boars. Beneath them, small male figures writhe or lunge forward, several apparently armed with swords. Earlier scholarship interpreted these figures as demons of darkness, but their poses and attributes are also consistent with the warrior figures commonly placed beneath lions and mythical leonine creatures in central Indian sculpture.
At the center of the team is the enormous head of Rahu, the celestial being associated with eclipses. His tiny hands are spread wide, while a spoked cakra rises above his head. The wheel can be read simultaneously as a solar emblem and as the Buddhist wheel of the law, bringing together Marichi’s identity as a goddess of light and her Buddhist role. Four female attendants flank the goddess. The outer pair carry long jeweled garlands, while the two closer to Marichi hold fly whisks. One may also carry a small mirror, perhaps intended to reflect the goddess’s radiance. Their scale emphasizes Marichi’s commanding presence.
The sculpture’s solid proportions, full rectangular faces, heavy limbs, coiffures, ornaments, and architectural frame point to central Madhya Pradesh, and comparison with monuments whose dates are more securely anchored places the sculpture most comfortably in the second half of the tenth century, although no single feature is conclusive. The image belongs to a period when Buddhist imagery was still being produced in central India, even as Buddhist activity had become more concentrated farther east. Rather than representing an isolated survival, the sculpture suggests an active exchange of religious and artistic ideas across the subcontinent.
What makes this Marichi especially compelling is the way these traditions meet within a single image. Her Buddhist identity is unmistakable, yet her stance, attendant figures, animal imagery, and visual vocabulary belong to the broader sculptural culture of central India. Her iconography participates in a transregional Buddhist tradition, while the sculpture itself is expressed through the visual language of central India. The result is an image that conveys not only the power of Marichi herself, but also the transmission and transformation of religious knowledge in 10th-century India.
