Abstract
Perhaps few would consider the vast region of Central Asia, stretching from the Taklamakan Desert to the Black Sea, as a promising site to assess the development of the world’s urban and cultural history. Although isolated by huge expanses of wildness, however, a chain of green cities, watered by rivers and springs, emerged as urban centers in an otherwise bleak terrain nearly five thousand years ago. Connected by a network of routes collectively known as “the Silk Road,” a term coined in 1877 by German geographer Ferdinand von Richthofen, these cities and communities became essential hubs of trade and exchange. 1 Merchants and travelers came to these cities to rest themselves and their pack animals, and to buy and sell their goods. From Xi’an in China to Herat in Afghanistan, from Samarkand in Uzbekistan to Istanbul in Turkey, a chain of cities dotted across the spine of the Eurasian continent, creating an extensive system of pathways that linked many trade centers. Over time, these urban centers became splendid cosmopolitan melting pots where intellectual and cultural influences from far-flung places mingled together.
However, the glories of these once-great cities are long gone; many of them have become neglected places, the names of which are all but forgotten by mainstream historians. This is partly due to the prevailing view of the region as a hotbed of sectarian violence and political oppression, but it is also because very few written records, if any, about its history are available today. The harsh physical environment and man-made destruction over the centuries have washed away much of the past. Fortunately, a recent rush of archaeological discoveries in Central Asia, particularly in China’s Xinjiang region, has created a growing body of material evidence that offers vivid and tangible proof of the Silk Road’s urban centers and their civilisations. 2
The five books reviewed here represent a collective scholarly effort to reintroduce us to the cities and lives that once thrived along the Silk Road. What’s more, they also chart the lively story of their rediscovery in modern times, which in itself constitutes “an important chapter in the history of the Silk Roads.” 3 Gaochang gucheng jiqi zhoubian diqu de kaogu gongzuo baogao, 1902-1903 nian dongji by Albert Grünwedel; Niya yizhi yu Yutianshi yanjiu by Meng Fanren; and Suiye by Nurlan Kenzheakhmet are written in Chinese, while The Ruins of Kocho: Traces of Wooden Architecture on the Ancient Silk Road edited by Lilla Russell-Smith and Ines Konczak-Nagel appears in English. Together, they describe the ruins of and archaeological finds at four significant Silk Road cities: Gaochang (also known as Khocho or Qocho) on the northern rim of the Taklamakan, Niya (known in its native language as Cadota) and Khotan (Chin.: Yutian) on the southern edge of the Taklamakan, and Suyab (Chin.: Suiye, modern-day Ak-Beshim) in the Chui River valley. The last one, West and East: Archeological Objects along the Silk Roads, edited by Bruno Genito and Qi Dongfang, relates specific archaeological evidence to the broader history of material and cultural exchange between urban centers along the Silk Road, ranging from Ily (Chin.: Yili) to the north of Tianshan, Turpan (Chin.: Tulufan) in eastern Tarim Basin, to Chang’an (present-day Xi’an) in central China.
Read together, these five books offer fascinating details and compelling evidence of urban cosmopolitanism and cultural exchanges that occurred along the Silk Road. Far from being on the periphery of global affairs, this region had been the “very crossroads of civilisation” since the beginning of history. 4 What emerges from these studies is a picture of economically vibrant and culturally multifaceted ancient urbanism along one of the oldest international trade routes in the world. For two millennia, this was a region where pilgrims and merchants had traveled, products and goods were transported and sold, and ideas and traditions were confronted, exchanged, and evolved. It was a linguistic cauldron that saw different language groups spoken alongside tongues of various dialects. As the cradle of some of the world’s greatest religions, it was here, too, that they contended with and influenced each other in myriad ways. All this and more may be glimpsed through these five books’ detailed examination of the region’s urban configuration, architectural structure, manuscript fragments, as well as wide-ranging objects from geographically distinct parts.
The main body of Gaochang gucheng, a translation of Albert Grünwedel’s original work Bericht über archaeologische Arbeiten in Idikutschari und Umgebung, im Winter 1902-1903 (Verlag der K. B. Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1905), is devoted to informative descriptions of Grünwedel’s discoveries in Gaochang during his first Turpan expedition from November 1902 to March 1903, covering forty-seven sites in the city of Gaochang and three nearby sites. Although the sites were of different sizes and scale, and the objects found varied in their quantity and quality, Grünwedel documented all his findings in meticulous detail. He followed the same set of procedures at each site: first, he recorded the measurement and building material of the whole site and its major components, then he would describe the important architectural pieces and mural paintings (if available), and finally he would briefly analyze the objects’ practical usage and artistic representation. These descriptions were accompanied by about two hundred line-drawings (164 appear with relevant entries and others in appendix) and forty excavation photos, making reading this book a real joy even over a century after its initial publication. 5
The current edition of Grünwedel’s masterpiece makes one of the earliest, and the most detailed, archaeological account of Gaochang more accessible to a broader readership. To its further credit, the extensive footnotes added by the translator and the editors also provide new information from archaeological works conducted since 2005. 6 In particular, a useful table of personal and place names in English/German and their Chinese translations enables both Western and Chinese readers to make quick references, and it is accompanied by two tables of Buddhist terms in Sanskrit and Chinese. The appendix also contains a geo-reference digital map of the sites marked in Grünwedel’s map, making it possible for scholars to juxtapose the older map with the present one. It is easy to see how the structures Grünwedel visited, still visible over a century ago, have survived, deteriorated, or altogether disappeared.
As one of most important political and military outpost of the Tang dynasty (618-907) in the region, ancient Gaochang is commonly considered by Chinese historians as a “Chinese colony.” Yet the wealth of evidence in Grünwedel’s elaborate records point to an ancient urban center which was not typically Chinese but one with unique architectural, religious, and linguistic diversity. 7 Buddhist stupas and Indian chaitja prayer-rooms existed alongside flat-roofed chapels with Sassanian terraces (p. 44, 95, 172). Gandhara-style bodhisattva statues stood next to murals of Manichaean patrons (pp. 57, 100, 122), and more than a few paintings showed the Buddha against a Zoroastrian background of flaming fire (p. 131, 156). While all stone inscriptions were in Chinese, a large number of murals bore prefaces or postscripts written in Brahmi and Uighur scripts. A remarkable collection of numerous manuscript fragments, either dug up or bought from the local people, featured Uighur, Sogdian, Manichaean, Brahmi, and Chinese scripts. Despite a succession of different dominant faiths in the region—Buddhism, Nestorian Christianity, Manichaeism, back to Buddhism, and finally Islam—the evidence clearly shows that for the most part, the intellectual and theological spaces in and around Gaochang were crowded; deities and cults of different origins interacted with and influenced each other, creating a distinct sphere of religious cosmopolitanism.
In this regard, however, one may wonder why religious constructions stood out as the most predominant category of architecture in Gaochang: according to Grünwedel, at least thirty one of the sites were either Buddhist monasteries or stupas, and they spread randomly throughout the city (a map of excavated sites is inserted between p. 4 and p. 5). Architectural remains and objects with close connection to Buddhism were certainly found in the sites, but it might be less than prudent to suggest that they were monasteries or temples. Considering that Buddhism was among the most dominant religions in Gaochang for an extended period, it is reasonable to speculate that Buddhist motifs may had been popular for secular buildings in Gaochang, as was the case of Panjikent near Samarkand in Tajikistan. 8
Grünwedel was not the first researcher to work in Gaochang. He was preceded by Russian expeditions led by, among others, Johann Albert Regel (in 1879), Vsevolod Ivanovich Roborovskiy (in 1893), and Dmitriy A. Klements (in 1898). 9 Following Grünwedel’s success, a series of archaeological expeditions headed for Gaochang from the early 1900s to the 1930s, including another one led by Grünwedel (1905-1907), two by Albert von Le Coq (1904-1905, 1913-1914), two by Sergey Fedorovich Oldenburg (1909-1910, 1914-1915), plus one each by Ōtani Kōzui (1905-1907) and Tachibana Zuicho (1908-1909). Out of all of these, the German ones were the most successful, as their leaders published the most detailed reports and acquired the largest collection of Turfan antiquities. The gains of the first expedition alone, brought by Grünwedel back to Berlin in early 1903, included forty-four crates filled with wooden objects and thirteen crates of zoological objects. 10 Recent criticisms and accusations leveled against the first generation of Silk Road explorers such as Grünwedel, especially from the Chinese side, focus on the removal of architectural objects and wall paintings as well as the occasionally flawed documentation of their historical contexts. In the case of Grünwedel’s acquisitions, along with those brought back by Le Coq, they also suffered damage during the Second World War. However, one should not forget that since their relocation to Berlin, the majority of these objects have been kept under adequate preservation, when otherwise they would have been inevitably exposed to natural decay and human destruction. As Grünwedel had noticed during his stay in Gaochang, local residents were mining wooden components for fuel and peeling murals to produce soil fertilizer (pp. 10-11), and grave-rubbers were recklessly plundering the tombs (p. 109).
Thanks to Grünwedel’s and Le Coq’s efforts, a great many medieval wooden objects from Gaochang, together with murals, statuary, and manuscripts, have survived the intervening century and are now accessible to international scholarship. Although it is a rather slim and little-known volume, The Ruins of Kocho, edited by the Berliner curators Lilla Russell-Smith and Ines Konczak-Nagel, takes a close look at the wooden capitals and panels from the Grünwedel and Le Coq expeditions, which had remained in storage and been hitherto largely ignored. It incorporates information from recent archaeological survey and conservation work to shed new light on the cross-cultural history of this major Silk Road city. As the product of an international collaboration between German curators, Chinese and Russian archaeologists, and Japanese scientists, this volume represents the complex effort, as the curator Lilla Russel-Smith says, to determine the specific context of the wooden objects with reference to documented (if no longer preserved) architectural remains in situ and, in the process, “try to understand the role of the wooden pieces in an architecture that to a considerable degree eschewed wood as a construction material” (p. 8-9).
The Ruins of Kocho’s appendix contains a brief history of the collection and a catalog of the wooden objects from Gaochang kept at the Museum für Asiatische Kunst in Berlin, each accompanied by a color photo and appropriate caption. Its main body consists of thirteen essays that present new knowledge about the Gaochang wooden pieces while reminding readers of how crucial it is to critique early archaeological reports in order to maximize their value in gaining a better understanding of the architectural structure and urban life there. The first three essays by Pavel B. Lurje (pp. 17-26), Christina Franken (pp. 27-34), and Burkart Dähne (pp. 35-41), respectively, set a broader comparative context for analyzing “foreign” influences in Gaochang through an examination of wooden architecture and decorations in Sogdiana and Karabalgasun (a former Uighur capital, today known as Ordu-Baliq in Mongolia).
By observing the indigenous Sogdian and Uighur architectural traditions and the “Western” (i.e., Iranian) and Chinese elements in evidence, the essays in The Ruins of Kocho offer a solid foundation for understanding the origin of Gaochang’s distinct architectural style. While wooden slips and paper fragments reveal little about the lives of those who lived there, material evidence supplements the early documents. Through observations of wooden elements and clay sculptures in Ruin Q and Ruin ß, Klaas Ruitenbeek (pp. 103-126), Carer Dreyer and Ines Konczak-Nagel (pp. 69-80), and Guiseppe Vignato (pp. 81-88) collectively argue that the architectural structure and style there correlate closely to the norms described in the Chinese building manual Yingzao fashi (Treatise on Architectural Methods or State Building Standards). However, in contrast to traditional Chinese architectural norms, in Gaochang timber was used in a very limited way because the preferred Iranian techniques did not require it. The eastward transmission of architectural elements from Central Asia to China can also be found in other Silk Road cities. In Niya, for example, the expeditor and archaeologist Aurel Stein discovered several elaborate wooden carvings whose designs matched objects made in Gandhara. In another building, the mural painting contains depictions of cherubs among undulating wreaths, which clearly owe its origin to the eastern edge of the Roman Empire in Syria. 11
Such interplays are also seen in the linguistic realm: as Simone-Christiane Raschmann (pp. 42-48) and Michaël Peyrot (pp. 127-134) aptly show, through their analysis of fragmentary textual material from Gaochang (some of which have been translated in Gaochang gucheng, pp. 180-186), both Chinese and Tocharian B—an ancient Indo-German language once popularly used in Central Asia—were actively used, attesting to Gaochang’s position as one of the most vibrant Silk Road commercial and religious centers.
In terms of explaining how the incorporation of modern technologies leads to new discoveries and understanding of the lost cities, the three essays by Oliver Hahn (pp. 135-140), Martina Runge (pp. 141-148), and Yoko Nishimura, Erika Forte, and Asanobu Kitamoto (pp. 59-68) are of the most important contributions to the book. By employing noninvasive chemical analysis methods, Hahn and Runge both reveal the material composition of pigments and show the fruits of conservation/cleaning efforts. The third essay makes the forward-looking approach of combining archaeological evidence and geo-reference digital map more accessible to Western readers. Cheng Aifeng also offers a summary (pp. 50-58) of the excavation and conservation work that has been conducted in Gaochang since 1928, to the great benefit for those who cannot otherwise access Chinese archaeological literature. What has been accomplished in The Ruins of Kocho will, hopefully, lead to a fuller investigation of the city and life in Gaochang. In places where only few documents and fragmentary material traces are available, new methods of archaeology offer new venues to extract information about the architectural and social contexts that the hostile environment and the scarcity of sources once concealed.
The collections of essays in Niya yizhi yu Yutianshi yanjiu by Meng Fanren, a prominent Chinese scholar on Silk Road archaeology, focus on scripted wood tablets and coins unearthed in Niya and Khotan, some 250 km away from each other but both once major commercial centers on the southern branch of the Silk Road. Laying on the southern fringe of the Taklamakan, Niya and Khotan command attention from archaeologists and historians alike because of their special status in the urban history of the Silk Road. In particular, the arid climate helps to preserve the paper and other fragile matter, which enable enquiries into the lives and stories of their owners and receivers. By examining seals, coins, and documents written in Chinese and Karoshthi (a modified form of the Aramaic script of the ancient Achaemenid Empire), he offers a valuable glimpse into the economic and social lives in those two cities before they were eventually abandoned toward the end of the fourth century. The first 11 essays are devoted to Niya, the most important city on the southern route of the Silk Road next to Khotan, and they are supplemented by (1) a table of Karoshthi words with their Chinese translations and (2) a complete transliteration and translation of Chinese texts on wooden slips. The second part of the book, comprised of eight essays, surveys the transmission of Khotan’s ruling clan, the location of the capital, the trade routes, as well as the historical context and meaning of selected texts and coins. Carrying distinctive features combining foreign origins and local modifications, the relatively large amount of texts and coins found in Khotan testifies to the extensive contacts its residents had with their neighbors near and far.
Meng’s close examination of surviving texts on different objects succeeds in demonstrating how much they can tell us about the trades and lives in these lost cities. Early Chinese texts, dating from the Han dynasty (206 BC-220 AD), have occasionally mentioned the Chinese’s relations with Niya and Khotan. More information about these two cities, as well as Loulan (also known as Kroraina) near Lake Lop Nur, comes from the Karoshthi wooden documents studied in this book. Discovered by Aurel Stein during his four expeditions from 1901 and 1931, they were, in Valerie Hansen’s words, “the first proof of sustained cultural exchange on the Silk Road in the late second century.” 12
Once the most widely used script along the Silk Road, the Karoshthi script was introduced into Niya by immigrants from the Gandhara region (in present-day Afghanistan and Pakistan) around 200 AD, a time when Buddhism was spreading eastward from Gandhara to central Asia. By examining nearly thousand proper names and one hundred fifty loanwords that appear in the documents, Meng convincingly argues that the local language of Niya was neither Chinese nor Gandharan. Here he challenges John Brough’s widely accepted view that Niya and Khotan were once either a part of the Kushan Empire (ca. 30-375) or indirectly controlled by Gandharan immigrants (though oddly enough, Brough’s work does not appear in the bibliography). Through an analysis of the names of suzerains and scribes, Meng concludes that even though the immigrants introduced their script to the locals and gained employment as scribes and military officers, their social status remained relatively low and they only played a limited role in government (p. 203). 13 The Gandharans also brought Buddhist teachings to the region, but the locals in Niya and Khotan apparently interpreted them in a far more flexible manner, as their early Buddhists married and lived at home instead of in monasteries.
The fact that Niya and Khotan had extensive contacts with their neighbors can also be proven by the distinctive Sino-Karoshthi coins, with Chinese characters on one face showing the value and, on the other side, Karoshthi script marking the ruler’s name and title. Earlier numismatic experts such as Helen Wang and Hiroshi Kumamoto have placed these coins in the second or early third century. 14 By matching the royal names and titles on these coins with the kings mentioned in Chinese sources, Meng makes the convincing claim that they were probably minted between the 260s and the 290s (pp. 390-91). Different date estimates notwithstanding, numismatic scholars agree that these bilingual coins, combining elements of Kushan and Chinese coinage, demonstrate the extent to which the local rulers absorbed different cultures and adapted them to create their own hybrid civilizations.
Throughout the book, Meng successfully provides detailed information about specific aspects of Niya and Khotan societies by drawing information from both the excavated documents and the official historical writings of China. For instance, due to a lack of information, the date of the famous “Ancient Letters” has long eluded scholars. Unearthed by Aurel Stein near Dunhuang in 1907 inside an abandoned ancient mailbag, they contain one of the only two most important surviving Sogdian-language documents. While several attempts have given their date as 196, 211, or 314, Meng arrives at his own conclusion by comparing the occurrences mentioned in Letter II with Chinese historical records. Citing Sanguo zhi (Records of the Three Kingdoms), Jinshu (Book of the Jin Dynasty), and Zizhi tongjian (Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government), he notes that because the historical events in Letter II happened between 311 and 319, it must had been written sometime after 320 (p. 372). 15
This letter, in connection with the Sogdian architectural evidence found in Gaochang, attests to the particular role of the Sogdians in expanding trade and cultural exchange between east and west. With their homeland in Sogdiana, consisting of Samarkand and the surrounding towns of today’s Uzbekistan, the Sogdians formed the most prominent migrant community which had settlements in almost every city and greenery along the Silk Road. When trade between China and Sogdiana peaked in the sixth and seventh centuries, a large number of Sogdians lived in and outside China and even a stereotype of rich Sogdian merchants took shape in fictional tales. 16 Yet as the archaeological findings have shown, already prior to the Tang period a diasporic group of Sogdians were living peacefully as merchants, farmers, and even servants. They have engaged in long-distance trade at a time when China was in chaos, with one dynasty having just fallen and another struggling to take over. Either fleeing war or seeking commercial benefits, the Sogdians brought technologies and cultural elements with them and exerted their influence on the artistic, religious, architectural, and commercial landscape of the Silk Road.
Taken as a whole, Niya yizhi yu Yutianshi yanjiu is a richly informative book, and its solid philological analyses will doubtlessly inspire future studies on the Silk Road sites’ excavated texts and objects. Yet despite its instructive approach, its focus remains relatively narrow. Given the book’s ambitious title (“Study on the Niya Ruins and the History of Khotan”), its readers might expect it to cover not only studies of Karoshthi texts and coins but also other excavated finds and the sites themselves. However, except for a brief overview of the Niya site and a short examination of the location of the ancient Khotan capital, there is very little information regarding the sites themselves. This is particularly regrettable considering that in both Niya and Khotan, and in nearby sites such as Rawak and Melikawat, numerous wooden architectural elements have been discovered. These range from small pieces of furniture and tools to almost completely preserved square stupas, dwellings, yards, and Buddhist monasteries, some with extensive carved decorations and colored paintings. Had the author extended his scope to include more detailed studies of these objects, the book would have been even more intellectually stimulating. In addition, Meng has missed an opportunity to engage with the more recent literature on the topic, both in global and Chinese terms: Out of the nine pages of references cited, only four of them are published after 2000, and the overwhelming majority are publications of the 1980s and early 1990s.
In contrast, in Suyab the archaeologist Nurlan Kenzheakhmet has made an important contribution to the field by attempting to bridge the various bodies of scholarship on history, religion, and archaeology to present a vivid portrayal of a commercial and cultural cosmopolis on the Silk Road. In particular, its extensive use of archaeological records and relevant surveys by Soviet and Russian scholars, which might have slipped under the radar otherwise, deserves special recognition. In this well-researched and eloquently written book, Nurlan Kenzheakhmet delves into Russian archaeological reports as well as Arabian and Chinese historical writings. From his base in Kazakhstan, he has compiled the most detailed and comprehensive study to date on one of the most cosmopolitan Silk Road cities.
Bracketed by a short preface and a conclusion, Kenzheakhmet’s main body of narrative is divided into six chapters, each covering a specific aspect of Suyab. Chap. 1 describes the region’s natural environment and other known ancient cities’ locations and historical background. Chap. 2 recounts the history of archaeological works in Suyab and their finds since the late 1890s, especially those by V. V. Bartold, A. N. Bernshtam, and L. R. Kyzlasov. Chap. 3 focuses on different parts of the site, including the inner city (shahristan), the outer city (rabad), and the fortress (citadel), and briefly examines the site of some constructions and their remaining architectural elements. Chap. 4 arrives at an accurate periodization of the city through an analysis of the transmission of construction methods identified in the ruins. Chap. 5 turns to architectural traces from the Tang period to explore various cultural elements contained there. Chap. 6 is dedicated to the ruins of religious institutions, including Buddhist monasteries, Christian (Nestorian) churches, and Zoroastrian ossuaries.
Supplemented by sixteen tables plus 138 drawings and images, Suyab raises the important and often overlooked role of the transmission of intangible cultural heritage on the Silk Road. As the birthplace of the renowned Chinese poet Li Bai (701-762) (whom Kenzheakhmet considers a sinicized Turk instead of an ethnic Chinese, p. 200), Suyab reached its zenith during the Tang dynasty as first the principal capital of the Western Turkic Khaganate and then one of the Four Garrisons of Anxi. This period was marked by remarkable growth in both culture and religion, partly due to the expansion of the Umayyad Arabs in Central Asia in the seventh and eighth centuries. Driven off their lands, the Sogdians migrated eastward from the region around Samarkand to the Chui river valley, introducing Manichaeism, Zoroastrianism, and Nestorian Christianity to Suyab (pp. 152-53). Of particular interest is the excavation of 18 tombs dated to the early eighth century in the backyard of the Nestorian Church I. As “the earliest known Christian cemetery in Central Asia” (p. 118), they attest to the long-forgotten success of Christianity in the east. In fact, by the mid-sixth century, there were already archdioceses deep within Asia, and cities like Merv (Turkmenistan), Suyab, and Kashgar had archbishops long before Canterbury did. As Peter Frankopan reminds us, there were major Christian centers “many centuries before the first missionaries reached Poland or Scandinavia” and in the Middle Ages “there were more Christians in Asia than were in Europe.” 17
During the same time period, Buddhism prospered alongside other religions. In contrast to the general eastward pattern transmission of Buddhist teachings from Central Asia to China, however, the discovery of many Tang-style tiles with lotus motifs points to the westward transmission of sinicized Buddhism from China. Such decorative elements did not exist in Han times but were very popular during the Tang dynasty (p. 113, pp. 176-77). Regardless of the extent of influence from the east, local adaptions were evident. For instance, though all three Buddhist monasteries had Tang-style Buddha statues, their corridors retained the typical Sogdian rectangular shape (p. 201). Next to Sassanian and Tang coins, a group of coins were found with Turkish scripts but in Chinese shape, a clear sign of their outside origin with local numismatic modification (p. 160, 164). All these elements point to Suyab’s special position as a melting pot where different cultural experiences met and mingled.
The proliferation of commercial activities and religious diversity also altered the structure of the city. Despite their status as the major Tang outposts in the region, Suyab and Gaochang together present an urban paradigm which in many respects differs with other Tang cities in Central China, such as Chang’an and Luoyang. 18 The distinction and location of the different urban tissues typical of administrative, commercial, and residential functions so definite in the Tang city was not as clear in Gaochang and Suyab. In contrast, though a rough division of areas of religious, commercial, and military properties existed, land lots and premises of various shapes and sizes lined the main streets and side alleys; gates and compound walls often lined the alleys, distant from the thoroughfares; a series of adjoining shops along a street may be interrupted here and there by monasteries, churches, or even government buildings.
The last book under review here, West and East, edited by Bruno Genito and Qi Dongfang, is not explicitly about cities, but it is about urban life. It contains detailed bilingual (Chinese and English) descriptions of 49 daily-life objects excavated from different urban sites along the Silk Road, all with color photos of excellent quality, which together weave a vivid picture of the cosmopolitan urbanism shared by these cities. This engrossing book is the culmination of a Chinese–Italian project that studies the artistic and cultural aspects of objects excavated from different sites along the Silk Road. Although most of these objects are far from obscure, this project aims to provide “a documentary and original interpretative framework” for these artifacts (p. 235), and it does so by incorporating different methodologies and perspectives of Chinese and Italian (European) archaeological findings. Bruno Genito and Qi Dongfang, two leading archaeologists and co-leaders of the project, challenge the predominant approach of examining the objects on a purely stylistic and iconographic ground. Instead, they focus more on the artifacts’ transmission and provenance to explore their own stories and to reveal the cross-cultural urban environment in which they were produced, transported, and consumed.
The book’s 49 objects are certainly not chosen at random. They are selected because the overwhelming majority of them were obtained through scientific archaeological excavation, which means that explicit information about the location of their discovery is available and many of them have clear terminus post quem. With the dates of their production and places of provenance available, this enables both archaeologists and urban historians to better understand their historical and artistic origin, thereby offering more detailed information about their geographical and social contexts. To illustrate, consider the case of a carnelian rhyton (a horn shaped drinking vessel) that was unearthed in the Hejia village outside the Tang capital Chang’an (modern Xi’an): its style of carving show Hellenistic influence, but its material and technique matches another rhyton from Coptos in Egypt, while its motif of Persian gazelle links it to rhytons found in Ziwiye (Iran). The result is an unquestionably unique artifact combining various cultural elements of different regions (pp. 218-21). Similarly, a fragment of cotton cloth with stamped batik design, discovered in a tomb in Niya, shows a female figure identical to the goddess Ardokhsho known from Kushan coinage and Gandharan sculptures, thus directly relating it to the Greek goddess Tyche (pp. 100-02). Many of such objects were considered to be “foreign” or “exotic,” and they were obtained and used to heighten the status and cosmopolitanism of the owner. This would suggest, in turn, that multiculturalism and cosmopolitanism was positively welcomed and celebrated in the owners’ societies.
The objects examined in West and East have significantly broadened our conventional understanding of material and cultural transmissions on the Silk Road. In particular, they provide modern scholars with tangible materials to assess the impact of the trade on different societies and the livelihood of the peoples. As earlier pioneering studies by Edward Hetzel Schafer and by Matteo Compareti have demonstrated, the Tang has exerted immense visual and artistic influence on the western part of the Silk Road. 19 By studying “exotic” objects found along the same route, West and East demonstrates that there was considerable exchange happening via the opposite direction as well. No matter in which direction they traveled, the objects and items had transmitted the material and design from their origin to far-flung regions and at the same time also developed their own characteristics.
The Silk Road has commonly been understood in terms of luxurious artifacts and commodities that moved great distances, and the above books do contain their fair share of them. By taking a closer look at the cultural and historical elements embodied in the ruins and their objects, however, we may reconstruct a more complete and nuanced picture of the vibrant urbanism that defined urban centers of the time. Throughout both times of peace and of war, goods and ideas flowed concurrently eastward and westward along the Silk Road. Migrating peoples, such as the Sogdians and Gandharans, brought with them not only their materials and technologies but also intangible heritage of arts, beliefs, and identities, thus acting as the fibers of social networks and agents of cross-cultural exchanges. The interaction of objects with the cultures they encountered—those that made them, traded them, received them, consumed them—provides new insights of the pattern of a Silk Road urban paradigm marked by multiculturalism and cosmopolitanism. In a similar pattern, various religions coexisted and thrived and they were transmitted, translated, and modified by peoples along the Silk Road as they passed from one civilization to another. We often think of globalization as a uniquely modern phenomenon, but the cities along the Silk Road have shown that two millennia ago, globalism was already flourishing deep inside Central Asia.