ART AND SOUL
Tapestries, past and present
B.N. Goswamy

Tapestry: a fabric formed of threads, inserted by hand, passing alternately in and out on the parallel strings of a warp stretched upon a frame or loom. The weft threads are not thrown completely across the loom, but are introduced to cover short spaces with various colours and tints as required by the design. This is a simple, and technical, description of what a tapestry is. But it gives one no idea of the magic that has been woven with, and into, tapestries over the centuries. Especially in Europe to which Corbusier—the neglected state of whose Chandigarh tapestries is now the subject of great concern and much controversy—belonged. There was hardly a castle or a church in the late medieval and renaissance era which tapestries did not adorn at one time. For at least two functions were associated with them: they served as a form of insulation against all those cold, stone walls of medieval structures; and with their colours and their figurative designs they could liven up massive interiors like little else could.

One could of course make statements through them: ostentation, display of power and wealth, celebratory or propaganda purposes, could thus always be tagged on. But, as ‘woven pictures’, they were essentially part of a grand decorative scheme, in which a thousand flowers could bloom on the walls, angels could descend to the earth, unicorns could be captured, and warriors ride into merciless battle.

Workshops producing simple, small-scale figurative tapestries existed at least from the early 11^th century onwards in Europe, the most skilled of weavers and dyers turning towards their manufacture and trade. Towns in northern France, in the Netherlands, and in the Flemish region, was, however, where the making of complex, unbelievably sophisticated tapestries remained concentrated for long, truly long, periods of time,
with Brussels and Bruges emerging as the most significant centres. The greatest of artists were sometimes pressed into service for producing designs that weavers could work on. Like when Raphael was commissioned by Pope Leo X to prepare designs for the famous Acts of the Apostles tapestry (1516-21), long celebrated as a vast woven fresco incorporating life-size figures in illusionistic settings. That great set of tapestries was eventually woven in Brussels.But there was activity everywhere, and famous factories, like the one founded by Jean Gobelin—the ‘Gobelin Tapestries’ are named after him— had sprung up by the 17^th century, with the great French monarch, Louis XIV, eventually taking the manufactory over and making its products serve his grandiose style.

In the tapestries woven for him, it was the ‘Sun King’ that shone everywhere, much as the Pope had appeared in the Raphael Tapestries as Christ’s true representative on earth. Weavers and designers served their patrons in much the same manner as the painters did.
It is not that tapestries did not wear out, or never required maintenance. But a countless number of them still stand in castles and churches and museums, many of them going back to more than 500 years in time. And pride in them, and their incomparable workmanship, has kept interest in them fiercely alive. The case of the celebrated Bayeux tapestry in France, which has survived wars, revolution, theft and neglect, reads like crime fiction. But this great object still stands. Nearly 1000 years old and the length of a football field, the tapestry remains one of the most important historical documents of all time, seen by thousands of visitors every year. It has not been easy to keep it, or keep it in good shape. Enormous effort has gone into doing it, but it has been done. And here at home? The Chandigarh tapestries of le Corbusier? There is confusion and contradiction. Statements made about them carry a smoke-and-mirrors air. Anywhere else in the world, they would have been treated as priceless heritage. But, truly speaking, in this land of ours, do we really care?

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