Appendix: The Techniques and Materials of Indian Manuscript Painting

Cummins, Joan

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Appendix: The Techniques and Materials of Indian Manuscript Painting

Joan Cummins

Indian Painting from Cave Temples to the Colonial Period

WE DO NOT KNOW MUCH about the royal patrons who commissioned Indian manuscript paintings and we know even less about the artists who made those paintings...

Author

Joan Cummins

PublisherMuseum of Fine Arts, Boston

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Appendix: The Techniques and Materials of Indian Manuscript Painting

We do not know much about the royal patrons who commissioned Indian manuscript paintings and we know even less about the artists who made those paintings. In some situations, so little documentation survives that we can barely hasten a guess about the region or period in which a page was made, let alone attribute that page to a specific hand. What we can know about Indian painters must be pieced together from disparate sources: the occasional reference to painting in historical chronicles, scripture, or literature; oral histories passed down through traditional artist families; brief entries in the registers of temple priests and palace accountants; and the paintings themselves. Those few paintings that are signed or ascribed to an artist are of considerable interest to art historians, but without documented biographies, an artist’s name really serves to describe a particular style rather than a person.

The greatest obstacle to identifying individual masters lies in India’s ages-old attitude toward artists. Most Indian manuscript painters were members of skilled labor castes and therefore did not rank highly in India’s strictly hierarchical social system.1It appears that the majority of Hindu painters were members of the carpenters caste. Like other artisan-tradesmen, painters were expected to work collaboratively and anonymously. Signing manuscript paintings was essentially a Persian practice that first entered India with the sultans and became more prevalent with the Mughals. Although the Mughals were interested in acknowledging and praising the strengths of individual masters—as evidenced by Jahangir’s boast that he could identify the artist of any given page—most Mughal paintings remained unsigned. The Rajputs sometimes emulated the Mughal practice of identifying their greatest masters in manuscript inscriptions, but their paintings are even less likely to bear signatures.

Even after the arrival of the Mughals, most of India’s highly skilled craftsmen—stone carvers, metalsmiths, weavers, even architects—continued to work in almost complete anonymity. The recording of the names of so many Indian painters indicates that they enjoyed special status among artists, at least in certain courts. The only artisans who enjoyed higher status were calligraphers or scribes, most of whom were considered to be scholars rather than artists.2Although the celebration of calligraphers is primarily a Muslim tradition, in some non-Muslim contexts, scribes appear to have enjoyed special status as well. Some early Jain manuscripts name the scribe but not the artists. In Rajput manuscripts, scribes are almost never mentioned, and the lesser degree of respect for their craft is evident: many masterful Rajput paintings bear inscriptions that are remarkably sloppy. Those painters named in inscriptions were probably regarded as great masters in their own time, but it is clear that many of India’s finest miniature painters never signed their work.

Indian artists rarely worked alone, even when creating paintings that reflect their individual styles. Making a traditional miniature painting was a laborious process, and much of the work was beneath a master. In many larger manuscript projects, it is likely that the master barely laid a hand on most pages, especially as he grew older. The master was often more of a manager than an artist, and he, in turn, received instructions from others.

Before painting began, key decisions had to be made, often by people outside of the workshop. The role of the patron should not be overstated, but he or she did maintain control over certain decisions, such as the subject and budget for the manuscript. The budget was important, because it dictated the number of paintings, the size of the pages, the quantity of gold and other expensive materials to be employed, and, in some cases, the quality of finish in the illustrations.3John Seyller has found markings in the margins of some Mughal paintings that indicate that artists were told how much time to spend on each page. The discovery of such guidelines reminds us that many decisions were made by people other than the artists. It also tells us that not every painting represents the apex of an artist’s ability. Less time may have been allotted for those paintings that were intended as gifts to individuals of lesser importance. See John Seyller, “Scribal Notes on Mughal Manuscript Illustrations,” Artibus Asiae 38 (September 1985): 37–66. We do not know to what extent patrons specified the artists they wanted for any given project. In the Mughal court, appreciation for an artist was usually expressed after a project was complete, with fine work rewarded by gifts and possibly a promotion in rank.

In the planning phases of a lengthy narrative manuscript sometimes a specialist, such as a Brahmin priest or literary expert, consulted on which episodes to illustrate, and how each episode should be depicted. Hindu scripture is full of instructions about the proper way to create images of the gods, including not only lists of attributes, but also guidelines for body proportions, all designed to ensure that an icon taught the proper lesson and presented the proper demeanor.4Such guidelines can be found in the Vishnudharmottara and the Agni Purana and in numerous other texts. The painters of narrative illustrations were probably less careful about following these guidelines than were sculptors of temple icons, because images made for storytelling were not used for darshan (see Chapter 4, pp. 116–19).

If a manuscript mixed illustrations with lengthy passages of text, the pacing and placement of images needed to be determined ahead of time, usually by someone highly literate. Scribes provided the text and most other inscriptions. Painters and scribes were two entirely different groups that belonged to different castes and that received very different training. Unfinished manuscript paintings often contain finished text, which suggests that scribes worked first, leaving designated blank areas where paintings were to be added later. We have seen evidence of the communication between manager, scribe, and artist in the marginal drawings and notes of the Jain manuscript illustrated in plate 4. In later periods, when text did not play a large part in illustrated manuscripts, decisions about where to put the images may have been made by the artists themselves.

While managers and masters determined the subject matter and layout of the manuscript, younger and less skilled members of a workshop prepared materials. We have seen that early Indian manuscripts were made on palm leaves, which were dried, flattened, cut to shape and polished, possibly with the addition of a starchy primer to lessen the absorbency of the surface. After 1400, all but the most conservative manuscript-makers used paper. Papermaking was a specialized skill, and in the first centuries of paper use, Indians imported their paper from points west. When India began to make its own paper, it was created from shredded textile and grass fibers rather than from wood pulp.

Most miniature paintings are on relatively thick, stiff, composite sheets called wasli, which is a sort of cardboard made by gluing multiple thin sheets of paper on top of one another. Usually, the interior of the wasli was composed of recycled pages from ledger books or scratch pads, and only the very outer layers were new, clean sheets. In some unfortunate situations, the ink from those inner layers seeped through and discolored the paintings and drawings that were made on top. We do not know if painting workshops were typically responsible for making their own wasli, but sometimes random sketches appear on the reverse of paintings, which suggests that artists did recycle their own paper. To create a smooth, nonporous painting surface, artists usually polished their paper pages by rubbing them with large, smooth stones. Polishing was also an important part of the painting process, repeated at several intervals.

One of the most time-consuming tasks assigned to apprentices and other lesser members of the atelier was the making of pigments. Most Indian pigments originated in solid form, and had to be ground into powders before they were added to a painting medium. Grinding pigment is tedious work, especially because miniature painters require their paints to be extremely fine. If we compare the smooth delicacy of the Jahangir-period portrait of an imam (plate 26) with the grainier surface of the early Central Indian Rasikapriya page (plate 65), we can see the difference between finely and roughly ground pigment.

Paints were usually prepared in small batches according to need. Ground pigments were added to a liquid mixture of gum arabic or animal glue that was then thinned with water. Oil was not used as a medium in either manuscript or wall paintings in India. We usually refer to the paint of Indian manuscripts as opaque watercolor; in texture and handling, it is similar to what Western artists call gouache.

Most of the pigments in Indian miniature paintings are mineral based and will be familiar to modern painters. White is usually from lead; black from various carbons; blue from ultramarine, azurite, and indigo; red from iron oxide, lead, vermilion, or lac.5For a full discussion of Indian painting pigments, see Nancy Purinton and Richard Newman, “A Technical Analysis of Indian Painting Materials,” in Ellen S. Smart and Daniel S. Walker, Pride of the Princes: Indian Art of the Mughal Era in the Cincinnati Art Museum (Cincinnati: Cincinnati Art Museum, 1985), 107–12. One pigment, called Indian yellow (peon), is usually cited as the most distinctive element of the Indian palette. Made from the dried urine of cows that have been fed nothing but mango leaves, Indian yellow provides the bright, orange-yellow often found in Rajput paintings.6Conservators have found that this pigment fluoresces when viewed under ultraviolet light. No other yellow pigment behaves that way, so looking for Indian yellow pigment can sometimes be used as a way of attributing or authenticating Indian paintings. Persian artists used little or no Indian yellow, so its presence can indicate Indian manufacture for those Sultanate, Deccani, and Mughal paintings that might be mistaken for Persian. Also, manufacture of Indian yellow is now banned in India, so those attempting to determine the age or authenticity of a painting can point to the presence of the pigment as indication that it was made prior to the ban. However, it is rumored that forgers make and keep small supplies of the pigment.

Over time, some of the pigments used in the traditional Indian palette have proven unstable and have led to major changes in the appearance of paintings. The most obvious instance of this change is silver paint, which tarnished soon after it was applied but probably looked shiny when a manuscript was first presented to a patron. White paint made from lead can also darken, especially where it comes into contact with other pigments. Other forms of white pigment are particularly susceptible to flaking.7This type of damage is somewhat apparent in the early Bhagavata Purana page (plate 11) and in the Kota Gita Govinda page (plate 56). Far more troubling are problems caused by caustic pigments. Green made from oxidized copper (verdigris) tends to weaken paper fibers, eating away whole areas of a painting.

Before any color touched paper, artists made several drawings. The vast majority of extant Indian drawings were not made for the eyes of patrons, but served the artist as part of his training or planning processes. We have seen two drawings that appear to be finished works of art—the image of Majnun with the animals, attributed to the Mughal artist Miskin (plate 17), and the Birth of the Virgin, also made for a Mughal patron (plate 14)—but most Indian drawings are unfinished paintings, early drafts, or rough sketches.

It is easy to ignore the important role of outline in the look and quality of finished Indian paintings because their saturated colors are so dazzling, but Indian painters trained first and foremost in draftsmanship. Because drawings were created much more quickly than finished paintings, and because one can often see the hand of the artist in the brushstrokes that define outlines and contours, they offer a more immediate or unmediated view of the master’s vision. They can also reveal useful information about the artist’s techniques.

Western viewers are often surprised to see how smooth and confident most Indian drawings are (plate 63, is a good example); even the most preliminary studies do not contain the building-up of short, jagged lines that characterizes most sketches by European and American artists. The long, clean outlines are the product of years of repeating basic forms. Paper was relatively expensive prior to the twentieth century, so workshops tended to save even scraps, and numerous sheets survive in which artists have filled every available square inch with training sketches.

Some preliminary drawings are remarkable works of art, such as the portraits of Inayat Khan and Darab Khan illustrated in Chapter Two (plates 29 and 36, pp. 66 and 75). Particularly for portraits, artists often made studies from life that then served as references and models for future paintings. The studies could be kept in the workshops for generations, and proved useful when patrons requested likenesses of their deceased ancestors. They were carefully finished in focal areas, such as the face, so as to capture every detail and nuance of the subject’s appearance. Other areas, such as costume and setting, were left unfinished or barely sketched in, since the same portrait sketch could be used as the model for numerous finished paintings, some of which might show the subject in different attire or as part of a larger group.8The identifiable crowd of courtiers in the Jahangiri darbar image was almost certainly modeled on numerous individual portrait sketches made on separate occasions (see plate 24). Although initially made for the artist’s use, occasionally these highly refined drawings were given elaborate borders and mounted in albums for royal collections.

Other types of drawings helped to map out the overall composition of a painting, and in some cases it appears that artists made several studies while trying to perfect their images. A Mughal drawing of a darbar scene made for the Padshah Nama (Shah Jahan’s illustrated biography) shows that the artist changed his mind about a number of features before settling on a final composition (plate 117). Two ghost figures were drawn in the foreground and then erased, probably by abrading the surface of the paper.9The head of one figure appears in the darkened area at the left staff-holder’s arm. Another figure appears under the flag; he is turned left with his back to us, holding a jar or drum. It is unusual for both the drawing and the finished painting of the same subject to have survived so that we can compare the two.10The drawing depicts Emperor Jahangir receiving his son, Prince Khurram (the future Emperor Shah Jahan), upon Khurram’s return from the defeat of the Mewaris in 1615. The finished painting is signed by Murar and dates to about 1640. See Milo C. Beach, King of the World: The Padshahnama, an Imperial Manuscript from the Royal Library, Windsor Castle (London: Azimuth Editions, 1997), 94–95 and 200–201. Later copies of the Padshah Nama paintings were made in several areas of India, apparently for Rajput patrons. We believe that unlike most extant drawings that depict scenes from the Padshah Nama, the MFA drawing predates the original because it is not a precise copy. Beach illustrates two more drawings of Murar’s Padshah Nama paintings, also probable preliminary studies, in King of the World, 166. The final version (now in the Royal Library Collection of Windsor Castle) is more elaborate, with some added figures and architectural elements, but most of the figures from the drawing reappear, albeit in slightly different poses and positions. The artist’s puzzling-out of the foreground did not end with the changes he made in the drawing: the figure standing behind the elephant’s trunk is removed entirely from the finished composition. The artist most likely used this drawing as a sort of rough draft, and then created a new drawing on a clean page that mapped out the final composition.

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Description: Jahangir in Darbar, Receives Prince Khurram at Ajmer Upon His Return from the...

PLATE 117. Attributed to Murar (active mid-17th century), Jahangir Receives Prince Khurram at Ajmer, Northern India (Mughal school), about 1640. Ink on paper, 25.6 × 18.1 cm (10 1/16 × 7⅛ in.). Ross-Coomaraswamy Collection [17.2696]

In many cases, artists drew their compositions directly onto the pages that were to be painted. These underdrawings served as skeletons, defining basic forms onto which color was applied. They are visible when paint chips away from the surface of a finished work or when we use technology such as infrared radiography to view them, but we know these drawings best from the unfinished paintings that have survived. Interrupted projects, such as Manaku’s The Siege of Lanka (which consists of some finished paintings, a few half-colored pages, and some drawings; see plates 61, 62, and 63, pp. 114–16), offer evidence for the work habits of Indian artists.11The MFA has one partly colored page, not illustrated here. See Coomaraswamy, Catalogue of the Indian Collections in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, part 5, Rajput Painting (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1926), plate XIII. We do not know why these projects were left unfinished, but particularly in later Punjab Hills painting workshops, entire manuscripts were sometimes abandoned after artists had made all of the drawings but before they had added any color.12A large number of lengthy narrative manuscripts in the Kangra style survive in unfinished form. It is likely that a patron initiated the projects and was then unable or disinclined to pay for their completion. Two of the most celebrated and intact unfinished manuscripts depict the romance of Nala and Damayanti. The MFA houses most of the drawings from one series, published by Alvin Clark Eastman, The Nala-Damayanti Drawings (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1959). Other lengthy narrative drawings series in the MFA include pages from a Hamir Hath, a Devi Mahatmya, and an Usha-Aniruddha, some of which are reproduced by Coomaraswamy, Catalogue of the Indian Collections, part 5, plates LV, LXII, and LXXXVI–LXXXVIII. In some other cases, artists began to add paint, but stopped before all areas were colored.

An unfinished painting from the Punjab Hills shows two layers of drawing: light-red lines that are barely visible, and darker gray-black lines that are more readily apparent (plate 118).13The painting is a fragment, cut off at the left side. Originally, it would have depicted Krishna as a boy, riding a swing on the outskirts of Vrindavan while the gopis play music to entertain him. The ropes of the swing have not been painted in, and the lower half of the child god is missing, so he appears enigmatically gesturing from above. The use of red or orange ink to form the very first image on the page appears to have been a distinctly Pahari practice. Surviving examples of red underdrawings are usually very loose, mapping out the basic elements of the composition with little or no detail added. In other regions, these early underdrawings were made in thin black ink. Artists in later periods sometimes used graphite or lead pencil. After the composition was determined, artists drew on top of the light-colored sketch in a darker ink, often making subtle changes and adding more details. In some cases, a light wash of white paint (one might call it a primer) was applied over the preliminary sketch, and the second drawing was added on top of that wash. In other cases, that wash was added over the second drawing, presumably to lessen the risk of dark lines bleeding through to the surface of the finished painting. No wash is visible in the unfinished painting shown here.

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Description: Young Krishna on a Swing Accompanied by Female Musicians by The Family of Nainsukh

PLATE 118. Young Krishna on a Swing Accompanied by Female Musicians, Northern India (Punjab Hills, possibly Kangra), about 1800. Ink and opaque watercolor on paper, 19 × 8.7 cm (7¾ × 3 7/16 in.). Ross-Coomaraswamy Collection [17.2618]

The drawing in plate 118, like the sketch for the Mughal darbar scene, is surely in the hand of one of the workshop’s senior artists. After completing the drawing to whatever extent he saw fit (and some underdrawings are extremely detailed, even including passages of modeling), the master passed the page to junior colorists, who began the laborious process of adding pigment to the paper. At this point, the master assumed a more managerial role. Most colorists did not have a choice in the colors they used; they simply followed instructions. On some drawings, tiny notations indicate the type of pigment to be used on each element. Where such notations were not applied, we can assume that the master offered oral instructions.

In most Indian manuscript painting traditions, pigment was applied in thin layers that were allowed to dry before more was added on top. Multiple layers of a single color were built up to create an intense, saturated effect. Only rarely was a coat of one color added on top of a different color; usually colors were mixed before application. The layering of thin coats is absolutely essential to creating the look of an Indian painting; a single, thick layer of opaque paint appears muddy and heavy, while the accumulation of numerous thin coats appears luminous.

Burnishing the page at regular intervals during coloring was another essential and distinctive element of the Indian manuscript painting process. To protect the surface of the page, artists sometimes placed it facedown on a smooth tabletop and then rubbed on the back with a stone. Extra-shiny burnish marks may be seen across the front or back of some pages. The nonporous surface created by burnishing was beneficial, because it allowed artists to create razor-sharp lines without the spidery edges that occur when paint soaks into soft paper. In addition to providing a hard surface, polishing gave completed paintings a jewel-like sheen. Some schools of Rajput painting, particularly Mewar and Kota, were particularly partial to a high-gloss finish on their paintings. Unfortunately, we have found that burnishing can be detrimental to the survival of miniature paintings because it hinders the adhesion of pigment. Just as paint scrapes away easily from a pane of glass, paint on the polished surfaces of Indian miniatures has a tendency to flake.

Apprentice artists in the workshop usually applied the multiple layers of paint. Although laborious, the application of color in Indian paintings was relatively straightforward and flat. After the basic shapes had been fully saturated with color and after the surface had been polished yet again, artists higher in the atelier hierarchy added the details, most of which consisted of colored lines. Hatch marks, rather than glazes or washes of color, provide effects of shadow, volume, and texture in most schools of Indian painting. The modulated color of the hills in the unfinished painting of plate 118, for example, was created by adding multiple thin lines of green on top of a nearly yellow ground. The foliage of the tree was likewise created by drawing different colored leaves on top of solid planes of green. Draftsmanship was critical for making even the most planar of Indian paintings. The masters’ original outlines were obscured by the addition of paint, but those outlines were redrawn on top of the colors, and it is usually those outlines that give the painting its distinctive style.

The outlines are often exceedingly thin. Muslim calligraphers used reed pens, and some Persian-inspired Indian artists may have used pens when making drawings, but the vast majority of Indian painting, including the most microscopically detailed Mughal pages, was painted with brushes. The fur at the tip of the tail of a particular type of squirrel was preferred for paintbrushes because the thin, tapered hairs were remarkably wiry and resilient. Some brushes were composed of a single hair. Artists were careful to monitor the consistency of their paint so they could control the way it flowed onto the paper. They did not use magnification, but a typical artist worked with the painting very, very close to his face. Because a steady hand and sharp eyesight were essential to the craft, we have to assume that many painters were forced to retire at a relatively young age.

Plate 118 indicates that the hierarchy of the workshop did not merely dictate who added color and who added finishing lines; it also dictated which part of the painting one touched. In this example, the background was completely finished before any color was added to the figures. It seems that the figures were reserved for a higher-ranking artist, who might have completed them from start to finish. We do not know if other schools of painting finished backgrounds first and then painted figures (we do not have as many half-finished paintings from other areas), but that method appears to have been standard in later Pahari workshops.

Jahangir’s claim that he could determine which artist had painted any given segment of a painting suggests that it was common practice, at least in the early Mughal workshop, for multiple artists to contribute to the finish of a single page. A specialist in portraiture might complete the faces, while an animal-painter might add the beasts in a hunt scene. Other artists may have excelled in the depiction of drapery or architecture or foliage. We do not know how much this practice extended into Rajput ateliers, but the unfinished painting shown here suggests that there was some division of work according to individual talent.

Gold and silver were usually the last elements added to the painting. Not every school used metallic paint, and where it was used it was mostly added sparingly. An exception can be found in fourteenth-and fifteenth-century Jain paintings, such as plate 5, where artists often applied gold first as the ground onto which they added other pigments. The painters of the early Basohli Rasamanjari pages heightened the effect of their metallic elements by incising either the paper or the painted surface with shallow patterns. We have seen that these Basohli artists added other surface decorations, such as beetle wings and droplets of thick white paint. The artist of the late Jaipur painting of plate 79 created a relief effect on the surface of his painting by building up a plasterlike substance in decorative patterns. A few other Rajput paintings have real pearls adhered to their surfaces.

After a painting was fully finished, a border was painted or glued to the edges of the page. Plate 106 shows a painting that never received a border, but we can see that the artist planned for one. On a practical level, borders provide protection, like the bumpers of a car. On an aesthetic level, they highlight and complement elements of the images they frame, so a painting that has lost its original border sometimes looks weak or incomplete. Most Mughal borders recall the settings for jewels: they feature gold paint and sometimes employ extra decorative elements such as small samples of calligraphy and illuminated inner margins. Rajput borders tend to be a single color, usually red, sometimes with a contrasting inner margin. Some Rajput borders help us to identify a painting’s patronage; for instance, many Kangra paintings have a pink, speckled border with a blue-and-white flowered inner margin. Borders can also contain useful information such as page numbers, painting titles, and owners’ notations. Some paintings, especially Mughal and Deccani, received new margins well after they were made, usually from new collectors. Plate 20 has a later border, probably added in Lucknow in the eighteenth century.

Rajput paintings were generally stored and viewed in unbound stacks that were wrapped for protection when not in use.14The wrappers were sometimes soaked in arsenic in hopes of keeping insects away from the pages. Most of them once had loose covers of thick cardboard covered with cloth, leather, or decorative paper, but very few such Rajput covers survive. Mughal manuscripts and albums were bound using methods similar to those used for Western books, and were often given covers of tooled leather or lacquered wood or paper. The covers were made by a different group of craftsmen, although like the painters they were probably in the permanent employ of the book-making atelier. Again, very few original Mughal bindings survive.

We do not know how often artists were allowed to view their own paintings once they presented a finished manuscript to the patron. Most artists probably never saw their work again. Some workshops kept records of past painting projects, usually in the form of freehand copies of an original painting or tracings. The preferred surface for tracing was made from animal membranes that were stretched out, dried, and cut to create a translucent page.15The MFA houses an unusually large collection of tracings on skin, most of which appear to be from Jaipur. In a late period, very thin paper was also used for tracing. Busy workshops often reused old imagery, copying entire compositions or borrowing one element of a painting, such as a single figure, and inserting it into a new context. Patrons do not seem to have minded this practice, and some probably requested copies to give as gifts.

The most common method of transferring a drawing from one surface to another was a form of stenciling known to Western artists as pouncing. To create a stencil, the artist pierced a series of tiny holes along the outlines of a drawing. The pierced drawing was placed against another surface, and then artists hit (“pounced”) the stencil repeatedly with a small, loosely woven pouch full of charcoal or graphite dust. The dust penetrated the holes, and the page beneath received a slightly broken, fuzzy version of the original drawing, over which the artist could add a painted outline. Numerous pierced drawings survive, as do drawings that bear traces of pouncing powder. The large drawing of a woman from Jaipur (plate 78) is probably the product of a pouncing transfer from a nearly identical drawing that has pierced lines (see note 34, p. 229). Pouncing was also a common method of transferring drawn images onto walls, so extant mural cartoons are usually pierced.

The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, houses an unusually strong collection of drawings and unfinished paintings because Ananda Coomaraswamy purchased entire study collections from artist families in Jaipur, the Punjab Hills, and the city of Patna (in eastern India). These collections reveal that artists saved everything they could, from dirty pouncing stencils to nearly finished paintings. Coomaraswamy recognized that even the smallest scrap of sketch paper offered valuable evidence for the way traditional artists once worked. The sad truth is that these records of past work were no longer needed by the early twentieth-century descendants of their makers because demand for miniature paintings had almost entirely disappeared.

1 It appears that the majority of Hindu painters were members of the carpenters caste. »

2 Although the celebration of calligraphers is primarily a Muslim tradition, in some non-Muslim contexts, scribes appear to have enjoyed special status as well. Some early Jain manuscripts name the scribe but not the artists. In Rajput manuscripts, scribes are almost never mentioned, and the lesser degree of respect for their craft is evident: many masterful Rajput paintings bear inscriptions that are remarkably sloppy. »

3 John Seyller has found markings in the margins of some Mughal paintings that indicate that artists were told how much time to spend on each page. The discovery of such guidelines reminds us that many decisions were made by people other than the artists. It also tells us that not every painting represents the apex of an artist’s ability. Less time may have been allotted for those paintings that were intended as gifts to individuals of lesser importance. See John Seyller, “Scribal Notes on Mughal Manuscript Illustrations,” Artibus Asiae 38 (September 1985): 37–66. »

4 Such guidelines can be found in the Vishnudharmottara and the Agni Purana and in numerous other texts. »

5 For a full discussion of Indian painting pigments, see Nancy Purinton and Richard Newman, “A Technical Analysis of Indian Painting Materials,” in Ellen S. Smart and Daniel S. Walker, Pride of the Princes: Indian Art of the Mughal Era in the Cincinnati Art Museum (Cincinnati: Cincinnati Art Museum, 1985), 107–12. »

6 Conservators have found that this pigment fluoresces when viewed under ultraviolet light. No other yellow pigment behaves that way, so looking for Indian yellow pigment can sometimes be used as a way of attributing or authenticating Indian paintings. Persian artists used little or no Indian yellow, so its presence can indicate Indian manufacture for those Sultanate, Deccani, and Mughal paintings that might be mistaken for Persian. Also, manufacture of Indian yellow is now banned in India, so those attempting to determine the age or authenticity of a painting can point to the presence of the pigment as indication that it was made prior to the ban. However, it is rumored that forgers make and keep small supplies of the pigment. »

7 This type of damage is somewhat apparent in the early Bhagavata Purana page (plate 11) and in the Kota Gita Govinda page (plate 56). »

8 The identifiable crowd of courtiers in the Jahangiri darbar image was almost certainly modeled on numerous individual portrait sketches made on separate occasions (see plate 24). »

9 The head of one figure appears in the darkened area at the left staff-holder’s arm. Another figure appears under the flag; he is turned left with his back to us, holding a jar or drum. »

10 The drawing depicts Emperor Jahangir receiving his son, Prince Khurram (the future Emperor Shah Jahan), upon Khurram’s return from the defeat of the Mewaris in 1615. The finished painting is signed by Murar and dates to about 1640. See Milo C. Beach, King of the World: The Padshahnama, an Imperial Manuscript from the Royal Library, Windsor Castle (London: Azimuth Editions, 1997), 94–95 and 200–201. Later copies of the Padshah Nama paintings were made in several areas of India, apparently for Rajput patrons. We believe that unlike most extant drawings that depict scenes from the Padshah Nama, the MFA drawing predates the original because it is not a precise copy. Beach illustrates two more drawings of Murar’s Padshah Nama paintings, also probable preliminary studies, in King of the World, 166. »

11 The MFA has one partly colored page, not illustrated here. See Coomaraswamy, Catalogue of the Indian Collections in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, part 5, Rajput Painting (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1926), plate XIII. »

12 A large number of lengthy narrative manuscripts in the Kangra style survive in unfinished form. It is likely that a patron initiated the projects and was then unable or disinclined to pay for their completion. Two of the most celebrated and intact unfinished manuscripts depict the romance of Nala and Damayanti. The MFA houses most of the drawings from one series, published by Alvin Clark Eastman, The Nala-Damayanti Drawings (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1959). Other lengthy narrative drawings series in the MFA include pages from a Hamir Hath, a Devi Mahatmya, and an Usha-Aniruddha, some of which are reproduced by Coomaraswamy, Catalogue of the Indian Collections, part 5, plates LV, LXII, and LXXXVI–LXXXVIII. »

13 The painting is a fragment, cut off at the left side. Originally, it would have depicted Krishna as a boy, riding a swing on the outskirts of Vrindavan while the gopis play music to entertain him. The ropes of the swing have not been painted in, and the lower half of the child god is missing, so he appears enigmatically gesturing from above. »

14 The wrappers were sometimes soaked in arsenic in hopes of keeping insects away from the pages. »

15 The MFA houses an unusually large collection of tracings on skin, most of which appear to be from Jaipur. In a late period, very thin paper was also used for tracing. »

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