Thawan in pen and ink

THAWAN DUCHANEE, the late great National Artist, once compared himself and business tycoon Boonchai Bencharongkul, his long-time friend and patron, to Leonardo da Vinci and Lorenzo de’Medici. 
Over the course of 20 years Boonchai helped make it possible for Thawan to create at leisure, unhampered by financial worries, and the artist in turn inspired the businessman to give Thailand its biggest private art facility, the Museum of Contemporary Art (MoCA).
“We were like brothers,” says Boonchai. “Ajarn Thawan inspired me 20 years ago to build this museum, saying I could be ‘a drop of water for parched soil’.”
Thawan’s sprawling empire of artwork occupies the entire fourth floor of the 20,000-square-metre, six-storey museum that opened in 2012. It’s all from Boonchai’s personal collection – more than 400 pieces on view, and that just a fraction of what he has in reserve. 
Now Boonchai has brought out 50 more never-before-seen drawings by Thawan for an exhibition entitled simply “The Drawings”, continuing through January 10.

Thawan believed that the accurate depiction of anatomy is the hallmark of great art.

Here in the sketches are the same quick brushstrokes seen in many of the paintings, the swift motion of horses, eagles, tigers, lions and kouprey captured in black ink. Then there are intricate drawings of gods, goddesses and powerful animals rendered surrealistically in black ballpoint pen. The fantastic figures emerge from Buddhist philosophy and the pursuit of spiritual peace. A two-headed horse, for example, might struggle to make up its mind between desirable and undesirable states of being.

“He was the only artist whose work I bought every year for his last eight years – about 10 pieces a year, from small sketches to large oil paintings,” says Boonchai. “He’d allowed me the privilege of being the first person to see his work right after completion. He’d let me go into his studio alone to decide which pieces to buy, and after I’d made my decision I had to explain the reasons why. That was his clever way of finding out whether people who wanted to own his work really loved it or not.”
Boonchai – a telecom millionaire who runs Benchachinda – says he owns in excess of 100 works by Thawan, more than by any other artist. He first read about him in a magazine spread about the artist’s Chiang Rai studio-home. 
“I was amazed by his surrealist work, which really captured the spirit of the East. The first piece I acquired was a quickly rendered ink sketch of a tiger. I bought it from a gallery before I had the chance to meet him.”

Boonchai Bencharongkul shows a portrait of Thawan Duchanee sitting in a chair he fashioned from animal horns.

Thawan was declared a National Artist in 2001, the same year he won the Fukuoka Asian Culture prize. The recognition stemmed from his penchant for traditional Asian motifs and styles, but his flamboyance, his booming voice and his satirical, absurd sense of humour had already made him widely popular. 
Big, bearded Thawan died in 2014, age 75, leaving behind fond recollections of a man as extraordinary in his creativity as he was in his appearance and speech. 
“Drawing,” he once memorably declared, “is the grammar by which we passed on the soul’s inherited feelings and the breath of God before human language was invented. It was the first word, passing from one mind to another, without decoration.”
“The Drawings” on exhibit are mostly untitled and undated. Those made with ballpoint pen are highly detailed and symbolic in meaning. Boonchai points out the four recurring elements – earth, water, air and fire – which constitute all living creatures. 
“And each element is represented by a symbolic figure, the garuda or eagle for air, the naga for water, the tiger for fire and the bodhisattva for earth. 
“He was very skilled with the ballpoint pen in creating very intricate works with full tonal gradation. When working on small drawings he preferred to lie on a floor. If you look closely, there are no ink stains, because he’d constantly wipe the pen nib on his mor hom shirt. If you do see any ink stains, they’re probably fake!” 

Elemental earth, water, air and fire are given metaphorical places among surrealist figures.

The artworks vary in technique, but just as breathtaking as the complex pen drawings are the split-second brushstrokes that capture a darting eagle and the lunge of jungle beasts. Thawan believed that the accurate depiction of anatomy is the hallmark of great art. “If you use an animal symbolically, you should always have the anatomy in mind,” he said. “For example, you should be good on the form of the snake before trying to paint the naga. Otherwise your naga might look like just a red-tailed pipe snake – or your lion might look like a dog.”
Of the quick execution in several drawings, Boonchai notes that “there are no more than four strokes”. 

Thawan had a gift for capturing the swift motion of animals in rapid flourishes of brushwork.

“He said that, if he took any longer, he couldn’t perfectly capture the rapid movement and power of animals. I can usually guess where the stroke starts, but it’s hard to pinpoint the end. He was capable of summing up in one artwork a story that might take three written pages to tell.”
In a politically charged comment on the war in Iraq, he drew an eagle with eyes like those of a poisonous snake and a shark surging out of hiding to attack.

An eagle and shark meet in a critique of the United States’ invasion of Iraq. 

Thawan had an abiding fascination with wildlife and loved observing animal behaviour on his travels around the world. 
“I went to a desert in Arizona to observe the crawling of a snake that’s capable of hopping short distances,” he recalled. “I saw a golden eagle in Arizona, and I spent three months in the Philippines watching an eagle that eats monkey brains, moving so fast that the monkey wasn’t even aware of its existence until it was too late.”

Thawan rendered hundreds of intricately detailed and highly symbolic works in ballpoint pen.

Thawan drew inspiration from many sources – ancient mythology, religious beliefs, great literature and of course raw nature. But he warned people not to ask what any specific artwork meant. 
“We never ask a star for whom it flickers or ask a bird for whom it sings,” he said. “Art should have no boundaries. I want people to feel something, not try to interpret its meaning. It’s that feeling that distinguishes humans from animals.”

CHIANG RAI’S UNSEEN MARVELS 
The exhibition “The Drawings” continues through January 10 at the Museum of Contemporary Art on Vibhavadi-Rangsit Road, next to the Benchachinda Building. 
The museum is open weekdays except Mondays from 10 to 5 and weekends from 11 to 6. 
Admission is Bt250 for adults and Bt100 for students (free for children under 13, seniors, the disabled, monks and novices).
A commemorative book of the drawings can be purchased at the museum for Bt2,500 in paperback and Bt3,500 in hardcover. 
Find out more at (02) 016 5666-7 and www.MoCABangkok.com.