Edited by Wang Xing Hao and Danan Lee

As a companion to this piece, we have created a Digital Museum with interactive 3D models of 8 of Asian Civilisations Museums’s most fascinating artefacts. The page also links to virtual tours of the ACM’s Jewellery, Fashion and Textiles, and Ceramics galleries.

Introduction

By: Amberly Yeo and Wang Xing Hao

It is a cliché that we live in an interconnected world. What is less obvious is that, historically, interconnection is not the exception but rather the rule. In our modern urge to demarcate and celebrate ethnic identities and national characters, we often lose sight of the fact that humans have been interacting, creating, and trading across dividing lines since time immemorial. From a Greek-influenced Buddha head of the 4th century to a truly global patchwork of the 18th, we here at The Diacritic have partnered with Singapore’s Asian Civilisations Museum to showcase three artefacts that best exemplify this fact.

The Asian Civilisations Museum (ACM) is uniquely qualified for this showcase because its collection is particularly focused on the historical connections within various parts of Asia as well as between Asia and the rest of the world. The ACM hosts a plethora of beautiful heterogeneous objects with complex histories, ranging from Christian-inspired Islamic Mughal paintings to a Southeast Asian statue of Christ, all of which refuse any single cultural identity. Many of these artefacts were once export commodities for clients located far from their land of manufacture, while raw materials might also have been obtained from yet another location.

 

In addition to sharing the intriguing history of three beautiful objects, we hope that this article offers a hint of what can happen when civilisations meet: that conflict is not a foregone conclusion, and that it is perhaps in dialogue and collaboration that we become best and most human.

Head of a Bodhisattva and Greco-Indian Art

By: Wang Xing Hao

A photo is insufficient to do justice to the superhuman proportions of this terracotta sculpture, with the head alone already a towering 85 centimetres tall.

The sculpture is Buddhist in subject matter. As a member of the Shakya clan, the historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, was called the “Lion of the Shakyas.” As such the presence of lion jewellery probably means that this sculpture is one of the historical Buddha himself. In addition, the presence of the jewellery, beard, and moustache indicates that this figure has yet to reach enlightenment. In early Buddhism, this state is described precisely by the term “bodhisattva,” meaning someone who is as yet unenlightened but is on the path towards enlightenment.[mfn]“Buddha” literally means “enlightened one,” hence the need for an alternative term to describe a Buddha before they become a “Buddha.”[/mfn] The jewellery worn is typical of the Gandharan period. Originally inlaid with a precious stone, the circular indent on his forehead is an urna, a mark of nobility and illumination.

Buddha teaching, another Gandharan sculpture in the ACM’s collection from the same period, but here depicting the Buddha after enlightenment. Notice that the Buddha, as opposed to the bodhisattva, is clean-shaven and has forsaken jewellery for his simple monk’s robes.

What lends historical significance to this bodhisattva head is that Gandhara, alongside the region Mathura, is the birthplace of the first images of the Buddha. Buddhist art certainly existed before that, but depictions of the Buddha were carefully avoided. Nowhere did the figure of the Buddha appear, and even visual depictions of the Buddha’s life story used riderless horses or footprints in place of the Buddha himself, a glaring absence in works that were otherwise densely populated with human forms. For example, works of art from Amaravati depict a crowd of worshippers thronging around a conspicuously empty throne. It was only in the first century C.E. that depictions of the Buddha emerged and became widespread, hundreds of years after the Buddha’s passing.DeCaroli, Robert Daniel. Image Problems: The Origin and Development of the Buddha’s Image in Early South Asia. University of Washington Press, 2015.

Kennie Ting, Director of the ACM, unpacks the many cultural influences reflected in this sculpture Buddha teaching.

This aversion appears to have been rooted in a disapproval of image-based worship, a sentiment shared with other religions in the region such as Hinduism and Jainism. Indeed, all three religions generally abstained from the use of images before the first century B.C.E.DeCaroli, Robert Daniel. Image Problems: The Origin and Development of the Buddha’s Image in Early South Asia. University of Washington Press, 2015. Consider the following quotation:

 [The Buddha said:] “What do you think, Kāśyapa, is any […] human or non-human even able to make an image of the Tathāgatas [Buddhas]?”

Kāśyapa said: “No, Blessed One. Since a Tathāgata is unexpressible, his body inconceivable, because of that it is not easy to make an image of them.”DeCaroli, Robert Daniel. Image Problems: The Origin and Development of the Buddha’s Image in Early South Asia. University of Washington Press, 2015.

Maitreyasiṃhanāda Sūtra

Similarly, in the Kāliṅgabodhi Jātaka, when asked what lay people should direct their offerings to when the Buddha himself is not present, the Buddha approves only the use of a Bodhi tree as his substitute. Yet, we can also find opposing viewpoints from other scriptures, with stories from the Divyāvadāna describing how the mere sight of a copy of the Buddha’s bodily form lifted monks to advanced spiritual states. Overall, Buddhist scholar Robert DeCaroli sums up the range of views as “an uneasy relationship between the Buddhist authors and depictions of their Teacher, whose form is sometimes rejected entirely, frequently tolerated, and rarely embraced unconditionally.”DeCaroli, Robert Daniel. Image Problems: The Origin and Development of the Buddha’s Image in Early South Asia. University of Washington Press, 2015.

Of course, a consensus has developed—any Buddhist devotee today would have seen and prayed to this “inconceivable” and “unexpressible” figure, as conceived and expressed in countless sculptures and paintings depicting the Buddha. What led to this drastic break from a belief so widely-accepted in the region? Many experts believe that this development is precisely a result of foreign ideas, specifically those from ancient Greece.Stoneman, Richard. The Greek Experience of India: From Alexander to the Indo-Greeks. Princeton University Press, 2021.

Your initial response may be one of disbelief. Greece is indeed a long way off from where the historical Buddha lived and taught, which are areas in present-day Nepal and north India. Mathura, the other birthplace of Buddha sculptures and best known as one of the seven holy cities of Hinduism and the birthplace of Krishna, is located in north-central India. Gandhara, while located to their west and occupying areas of present-day Pakistan and Afghanistan, is still not that much closer to Athens.

This perplexity is resolved when we remember that this vast geographical distance was traversed by a singular historical figure, Alexander the Great, in his eastward conquests. Upon his ascension to the throne of Macedon in 336 B.C.E., Alexander built a vast empire from his home base in present-day northern Greece down to Egypt, across central Asia all the way east to Bactria. Geographically, Bactria was in what is now present-day Afghanistan along with parts of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, and was hence in close proximity to Gandhara.Nehru, Lolita. “Origins of the Gandharan style: a study of contributory influences.” PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 1982.

While Alexander’s reign was short-lived, there were many Greeks who stayed behind in colonies and garrison cities in Central Asia and on the Indus, including not only veteran soldiers but also writers, historians, philosophers, dancers, and artists.Stoneman, Richard. The Greek Experience of India: From Alexander to the Indo-Greeks. Princeton University Press, 2021. Bactria became a stronghold of Greek people and culture, and eventually established itself as the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom. The Greco-Bactrian king Demetrius then went on to conquer parts of India, founding there the Indo-Greek Kingdom. All this led to a profound infusion of Greek culture in the region, with both Gandhara and Mathura being under Greek rule as part of the Indo-Greek Kingdom.

Short documentary on the Indo-Greek Kingdom and the resulting cultural syncretism centred around Buddhism. The prequel on the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom, from which the Indo-Greek Kingdom sprung, is here.

The intersection of cultures led to both Mathura and Gandhara becoming fiercely cosmopolitan, issuing edicts and coinage in multiple languages.DeCaroli, Robert Daniel. Image Problems: The Origin and Development of the Buddha’s Image in Early South Asia. University of Washington Press, 2015. While the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom and the Indo-Greek Kingdom both fell by the time of the Buddha sculptures, Gandharan art continued to reflect this cosmopolitanism, with Indian, Bactrian, Parthian, Greek, and Roman influences, and out of which emerged a unique Gandharan style.Nehru, Lolita. “Origins of the Gandharan style: a study of contributory influences.” PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 1982.

With respect to Head of a bodhisattva, the South Asian influence is obvious considering the Buddhist subject matter. Meanwhile, the curly hair and depiction of the face demonstrate Central Asian and Greco-Roman influence.

Compare the curly hair and naturalistic features of the Head of a bodhisattva and a head of Apollo, sculpted in Rome in imitation of a Greek original (Source).

There are more decisive instances of Greek culture in Gandharan art. For example, dressed in the iconic Nemean lion’s skin, Herakles (or Hercules, as he is more widely known) frequently appears next to the Buddha. The Herculean figure is in fact meant to be Vajrapāṇi, a companion of the Buddha, and since “vajrapāṇi” means “holder of the thunderbolt,” a thunderbolt replaces Herakles’ usual club.Galinsky, Karl. “Herakles Vajrapani, the companion of Buddha.” In Herakles Inside and Outside the Church, pp. 315-332. Brill, 2020. Meanwhile, in Mathuran depictions, the Heraklean club is carried by the god Lakulīśa. Finally, there is even a 2nd to 3rd century C.E. carving from Gandhara that depicts men in Greek clothing dragging a horse on wheels towards a gateway, an unmistakable reference to the story of the Trojan horse.Stoneman, Richard. The Greek Experience of India: From Alexander to the Indo-Greeks. Princeton University Press, 2021.

Source.

The cultural influence went both ways. According to historian of ancient Greece Richard Stoneman, “it is probable that the mysterious Zarmonochegas, who burnt himself to death in Athens in the reign of Augustus […] was a Buddhist, perhaps a missionary.”Stoneman, Richard. The Greek Experience of India: From Alexander to the Indo-Greeks. Princeton University Press, 2021.

More successful conversions of Greeks to Buddhism include Indo-Greek king Menander I, who also studied the Hindu teachings of “Sāṅkhya, Yoga, Nyāya, and Vaiśeṣika systems of philosophy; […] the four Vedas, the Purāṇas, and the Itihāsas.”Davids, Thomas William Rhys, ed. The questions of king Milinda. Vol. 35. Clarendon Press, 1890. I have updated the updated the spellings in accordance with more modern transliteration systems. Menander was converted to Buddhism by the Buddhist sage Nāgasena, and their philosophically-rich discussion was recorded in the Pali text Milinda Pañha. (The title translates to “Questions of King Milinda,” with Milinda being the Pali transliteration of the name Menander.)

One final example is the Greek philosopher Pyrrho of Elis, who travelled as part of Alexander’s court. He met and learnt from Indian thinkers and religious practitioners, and even visited Gandhara. Upon returning to Greece, he taught the attainment of tranquility through the renouncing of views and not moving for extended periods of time, a clear echo of Buddhist teaching and yoga respectively.Beckwith, Christopher I. Greek Buddha. Princeton University Press, 2015.

The meeting of the East and West has long been discussed in the modern context, yet here we see that East and West have already met a long time ago, all the way back in antiquity. In fact, much of what we consider quintessentially Eastern can trace its roots to the West, and vice versa. At this level of analysis, then, the distinction between East and West breaks down, and we are left with the vital realisation that, sometimes, dividing lines are better not drawn.

China and the Abbasid Caliphate, Blue-and-white Dish and Blue-and-white Dish

By: Amberly Yeo

In the ACM’s Khoo Teck Puat Gallery, we see two ceramic dishes dated to the 9th century, both of which are given the descriptive title “Blue-and-white dish.” Although the blue paint is slightly more vibrant on the left dish, they look similar enough to have come from the same workshop. The shape and size of both dishes are practically the same, and a blue-painted plant motif occupies the centre of both dishes.

The repeated images of fanned-out radial leaves resemble those of palm trees found across the deserts of the Middle East, a possible reference to its geographical origin. While common around the world, the use of plant motifs here also signals Islamic influence. Plant motifs are common to Islamic art and have been used to symbolise concepts from both pre-Islamic traditions and Islamic theology. In the Islamic mystic tradition, natural forms (zahir) can represent the divine essence (batin) of God.Aamir, Naela and Amjad Pervaiz. 2018. “The Symbolic Significance of Sarv Motif in Islamic Art: An Inquiry into its Mystical Underpinnings.” Majallah-e-Tahqiq 39, no. 112: 3-18. The design of lozenges with flowers or leaves at the corners could have been spiritual or decorative. 

Indeed, the right dish was made in the Islamic Abbasid empire, which spanned modern-day Iran and Iraq. However, the left dish was in fact not made in the Middle East, and instead originated much farther east, all the way in Tang-dynasty China. And the reason why the left dish looks a little worn out? It was lost under the Java sea for over 1,000 years. 

This eroded dish is just one of the 60,000 Tang ceramic wares found in an Arab merchant vessel that sank around 826 C.E.  The ceramics found varied from the most utilitarian, to fine ware of the highest quality. The vessel (specifically, an Arab dhow) was discovered in 1998 by an Indonesian sea-cucumber diver on a reef off the coast of Belitung, a small island in the Java sea. The dhow had sunk en route to a Javanese port, where it would have topped up its cargo with spices.Flecker, Michael. 2010. “A Ninth-Century A.D. Arab Shipwreck in Indonesia: The first archaeological evidence of direct trade with China.” In Shipwrecked: Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, edited by Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby, 101-119. Washington DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Singapore: National Heritage Board (NHB); Singapore Tourism Board (STB).

Check out the ACM’s Khoo Teck Puat Gallery dedicated to the Tang Shipwreck.

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This discovery spelled two archaeological achievements: not only was this the oldest Arab dhow to ever be discovered in Southeast-Asian waters, it was also the richest and largest single-site hoard of early 9th century Chinese trade ceramics ever found outside of China.Guy, John S. 2001–2. “Early Asian Ceramic Trade and the Belitung (‘Tang’) Cargo.” The Transactions of the Oriental Ceramic Society 66: 13–27. The size and location of the discovery also emphasised that global connectivity and mass consumption has existed for at least a millennium, far pre-dating the industrialisation of the past few centuries.

This large shipment of ceramics is unsurprising considering the period. The Tang dynasty was well known for embracing diversity and foreign exchange. Tang Emperor Taizong lifted barrier taxes and prohibitions in 626 C.E. to allow all Chinese and foreigners with official travel permits to move freely across China. Between 618-718 C.E., 1.7 million foreigners, including tribesmen, expatriates, and “barbarians”, became Tang subjects. In line with the increased diversity, 43 ethnic non-Han subjects were even able to serve as grand councillors.Holcombe, Charles. 2001. The Genesis of East Asia, 221 B.C.–A.D. 907. Honolulu: Association for Asian Studies and University of Hawai‘i Press.

Transcontinental trade had existed long before the Tang but it was mostly conducted overland via the Silk Road. The fivefold growth in population size throughout the Tang period pressured the empire to turn towards merchant shipping for its survival. Tang rulers converted Guangzhou and Quanzhou into port cities for the first time in Chinese history, and welcomed international sea traders. Such port cities, and the Tang capital, Chang’an, were each metropolises brimming with people and objects from Persia to India, to Tibet and the South Sea. 

Tang-dynasty pottery figure from The Metropolitan Museum of Art. It is of cosmpolitan origin, with parts originating from South Asia and Europe. 3D representation of the figure here.

Tang Chinese maritime expansion was contemporaneous with that of the early Islamic world. The Tang dynasty was established (618 C.E.) during a time of mass Islamification in the Middle East. Following the life of Prophet Muhammad (ca. 570-632), Arab-Muslims won a string of conquests which united the region under one religion. Within the 7th century, Arab-Muslims conquered Iraq (637), the Levant (640), Mesopotamia (641), and Persia (651). The new rulers emphasised commercial policies promoting maritime trade across the Indian Ocean to as far as East Asia. Subsequently, the early Tang period witnessed the most extensive cultural and political contact between the Middle East and China, before the establishment of the Mongol Yuan 500 years later.Finlay, Robert. 2010. “Chapter 3. The Creation of Porcelain China and Eurasia, 2000 B.C.E – 1000 C.E.” In The Pilgrim Art: Cultures of Porcelain in World History. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

In light of the geopolitical climate, potters in China drew inspiration from popular Middle-Eastern art styles, and refashioned their ceramic designs to appeal to their foreign customers. Our particular dish was likely produced in the Gongxian kilns of the non-coastal province of Henan.Flecker, Michael. 2010. “A Ninth-Century A.D. Arab Shipwreck in Indonesia: The first archaeological evidence of direct trade with China.” In Shipwrecked: Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds, edited by Regina Krahl, John Guy, J. Keith Wilson, and Julian Raby, 101-119. Washington DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Singapore: National Heritage Board (NHB); Singapore Tourism Board (STB). Oasis communities on the Silk Road could have conveyed pictorials that were uniquely Indian or Persian to Chinese artists residing there, who then adapted the art into their pottery.Finlay, Robert. 2010. “Chapter 3. The Creation of Porcelain China and Eurasia, 2000 B.C.E – 1000 C.E.” In The Pilgrim Art: Cultures of Porcelain in World History. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Furthermore, the blue glaze of the floral motif was only possible using cobalt from Persia. Cobalt mining was a specialty of the Abbasid empire in the 9th century, and the material was unavailable in China except through import.Wall text, Tang Shipwreck, Asian Civilisations Museum, Singapore. In other words, Tang potters specifically imported foreign cobalt to enhance the aesthetic appeal of their products.

Going back to the dishes’ designs, we now understand that their striking resemblance is therefore no mere coincidence: despite the vast gulf of geographical distance separating them, Tang China and the Abbasid empire shared in the creation of these ceramics. While one dish was made by Chinese hands, it was made for Abbasid tastes, drawing on Middle Eastern imagery and materials. Contemporary discourse on cultural appropriation often presumes that cultural artefacts are rooted in, and embodiments of, a single culture. Yet these stoneware, by blending art and materials from seemingly disparate civilisations, counter such essentialist conceptions. Indeed, the potters themselves might not even have identified their creations as “Chinese.” Yet, it is also unclear whether they would have consciously recognised these ceramic wares as cultural hybrids. What we can be certain of, however, is that its Abbasid influence is a non-trivial one, and it is this shared heritage that ultimately allowed it to meet its Abbasid-made “spiritual twin” here in sunny Singapore.

Weaving across cultures—Sumatra’s Patchwork Robe

By: Tan Rui Heng

Our final artefact is an over-garment from 18th century Indonesia, known as a kebaya.[mfn]It has also been variously classified as a kawai or a baju.[/mfn] The kebaya is a long-sleeved robe that covers from the neck to the knee, and is usually paired with a bottom known as a sarong. Influenced by Chinese, Middle Eastern, and Portuguese garment styles, the kebaya marks out the history of the 17th and 18th-century historical period from which it emergedLangi, Kezia-Clarissa, and Shinmi Park. “An Analysis of the Characteristics of Balinese Costume-Focus on the Legong Dance Costume.” Journal of the Korean Society of Costume 67, no. 4 (2017): 38-57.—an era of extensive trade relations between the Indonesian archipelago and these particular regions, as we shall examine later.

This particular patchwork kebaya on display is at once a “typical” and an atypical garment. It is typical for its incorporation of the rich admixtures of culture present in 18th century Indonesia, being made from “Javanese batiks and plaids, as well as European wool and silk, Chinese silk, and Indian cottons and damasks.” Yet, it is unique for its especially flamboyant and luxurious material, indicating that its owner must have been a man of means. This was not pointless splurging either, since “Javanese rulers associated such robes with talismanic qualities.”Lingner, Richard, and Clement Onn, eds. ACM Treasures: Collection Highlights. Asian Civilisations Museum, 2020.

While we cannot directly ascertain who exactly owned this robe, what we can do is to begin from a point of (cross-)cultural history, and situate the piece as part of a wider assemblage—a patchwork, even—of elements ranging from cloth’s symbolic importance in the region to trade-induced textile production.

Scholar Barbara Watson Andaya’s historiography on eighteenth-century cloth trade in Sumatra is invaluable for us here. She notes that cloth was an essential object of trade for anyone looking to trade with the various societies of Indonesia of the time, as it was considered equivalent to, and hence easily traded for, the various spices which the East Indies were known for. And what likely drove this perceived importance of cloth was the important symbolic purpose that it played for those in such societies as Palembang: “As part of institutionalized ritual exchanges, the presentation of cloth and clothing was a vital means of affirming the reciprocal relationships between individuals, families, clans, states-relationships which lay at the heart of Indonesian society. It was this cultural role of cloth which enabled the archipelago to absorb so many imported textiles.”Andaya, Barbara Watson. “The cloth trade in Jambi and Palembang society during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.” Indonesia 48 (1989): 27-46. In this view, textile itself takes on an intrinsic value that endows the garment we see above with more than just symbolic qualities for rulers. That the garment should take on a patchwork style, combining textiles from all across the region and beyond, seems fittingly representative of the social situation of the time.

What, then, can we make of the individual elements—those patchwork textiles—which make up the robe itself? It is tempting to associate the historical period of the robe with the presence of colonial-era trade, where the Dutch and British East India Companies were both involved in various parts of Sumatra at the time. However, the reality in Sumatra was the presence of a rich, pre-colonial network of inter-regional trade, especially as it related to textiles. There was already a burgeoning presence of international fabrics in regions such as the eastern province of Jambi. Hence Fiona Kerlogue writes: “From Arab traders it imported cotton fabrics […] from China silk gauzes and thread, the latter possibly used in the manufacture of songket, for which the Malay world later became famous.”Kerlogue, Fiona. “The early English textile trade in South-East Asia: the East India Company factory and the textile trade in Jambi, Sumatra, 1615–1682.” Textile History 28, no. 2 (1997): 149-160. From these trade networks came an admixture of various materials into the very “fabric” of cultural craft and production.

The influence of colonial-era trade, though, cannot be fully divested from the social and physical formation of this garment. Andaya writes of a crucial development in the late seventeenth century in Sumatra: Under the monopoly of the Dutch East India Company (VOC), there was a rise in the cost of textiles, and a coinciding fall in pepper prices. This led to a predictable shift in the focus of local production—farmers who previously abandoned cotton-growing in favour of pepper now switched back to the more valuable crop, and with a rise in the production of cotton came a marked increase in weaving. As the Resident (colonial administrator) of Sumatra at the time noted, “there [were] as many looms as there [were] households.”Andaya, Barbara Watson. “The cloth trade in Jambi and Palembang society during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.” Indonesia 48 (1989): 27-46. From the trade policies under the VOC, there indirectly arose a flourishing, local textile-based production. Such practices eventually found their way into the royal courts—and a corresponding taste for luxurious, imported silks and other threads from India, China, and beyond, with which to weave their fabrics. 

We therefore arrive at the moment of the garment’s production—a rich network of international textile trade and a booming field of textile production, enclosed within a deep cultural appreciation of both the craft and its constituent material. This is to say nothing of the aesthetics of the garment itself—Andaya notes the common use of a red-gold motif within court attire in Palembang as stemming from Chinese influence, as “women of high rank were frequently of Chinese descent.”Andaya, Barbara Watson. “The cloth trade in Jambi and Palembang society during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.” Indonesia 48 (1989): 27-46. Meanwhile, the cultural influence of neighbouring Java accounts for the presence of batik designs within a garment considered to have been highly important to the noble classes.

It seems fitting, then, that a garment with such a distinct mix of origins, and such a design, would have emerged from this region. Everything about this kebaya, from the possible sourcing of its material, to the aesthetic choices present in the robe itself, inscribes a complex history of cultural interchange with India, China, Europe and beyond—not to mention the interconnections between different Sumatran and Indonesian societies. It is from this heady mix of influences that emerges a remarkable and truly global patchwork, symbolic of an interconnected world that only becomes even more so.

Conclusion

By: Wang Xing Hao

In contemporary debates, cultural appreciation can be hard to distinguish from cultural appropriation. Much of this difficulty might stem from how we conceive of culture. In an extreme conception, all cultural borrowing is cultural appropriation, if we are thinking of cultures as isolated bubbles that ought to neither influence, nor be influenced by, one another. Of course, on closer inspection, that stance hardly seems plausible, since it would imply that learning from another culture is somehow more disrespectful than ignoring it altogether.

Another conception could be that there are certain essential or “sacred” aspects of cultures that ought never to be touched by “foreign hands”. However, the problem arises when we realise that there is no good criterion to pick out the “essential parts”. This is because culture is always changing over time, so there is no fixed core of culture to pinpoint as its essence. Also, much of what we might consider central to a culture is in fact of foreign origin. For example, the tomato so central to Italian cuisine originated in the Americas, and so it only reached Italy in the 16th century and only became popular in the 19th century. Similarly in the realm of food, Indians only started drinking chai in the 1930s at the encouragement of the British, whereas the British themselves only picked up the tea-drinking habit from China in the 17th century.

Jenni Avins explains how we can productively learn from and engage with another culture in the realm of fashion. More here.

As these three artefacts convincingly demonstrate, cultures do not develop in isolation, and borrowing from others is not a sin. In a world of growing interconnection, perhaps the most important lesson to keep in mind for fruitful cultural engagement is that we can learn without taking and share without losing. The head, the dish, and the robe are embodiments of this insight, and we as a species are all the better for it.