http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2011/10/27/LVH01LK0KF.DTLTry the above link for a short video of the evening at the museum. (Ctrl+C to copy the URL and then Ctrl+V to paste it into your browser line. Then enter and find the video near the bottom of the article.
Peering past the viewer with a gaze at once purposeful and serenely self-possessed, the Maharaja Pratap Singh of Orrcha commands his realm as surely as a great actor holds the stage. His beard and mustache rise on either side of his face in two dramatic upswept waves. A filigreed turban crown sits rakishly across his brow. A mighty cape is parted to reveal his elaborate costume's silks, jewels and embroidered sashes. One white-gloved hand grips the cross-hatched hilt of a sword. The other rests lightly on the swirling scrollwork of a settee.
It's fitting that everything about this 1903 photograph, right down to a painted backdrop, should seem so theatrical. Public performance, celebrity and the power of appearances were a big part of any maharaja's appeal during the centuries these storied figures hovered over Indian life.
But as a major touring show at the Asian Art Museum sets out to demonstrate, maharajas (Sanskrit for "great kings") were anything but showy figureheads. With their political, economic, social and cultural clout, the maharajas exerted far more influence than the reductive stereotypes of conspicuous consumption and irrelevant extravagance, a commonplace of the British colonial era, suggest. Flashy as it might be, their grandeur was very real. Taxation, infrastructure, education, militias and political favors were among the things a maharaja might control in his region.
Reporter Leah Garchik describes the scene:
"At the Asian Art Museum on Wednesday, local maharajas, maharanis and royal Indian wannabes decked themselves in exquisite and bejeweled finery, and gorgeous though they were, thereby demonstrated that even the most elegant modern trappings look understated and casual when compared with the dazzle of the past. The museum was a sea of sequins, gems and brightly colored embroidered silks for the gala opening of "Maharaja: The Splendor of India's Royal Courts," but the exhibition's silver coach - the preferred means of transportation/making a grand entrance in India in 1915, when it was made - far outglittered the fleet of Mercedeses and town cars pulling up at the valet outside.
"I thought we were here to protest Wall Street," said one wisecracker, as 650 dazzling guests - I saw not one black evening gown - sat down to a three-goblet, lined-napkin (so the silk doesn't slide off one's lap) dinner, created by Taste catering and Amber India restaurants. The gala was sold out months ago.
But it's not fair to say the exhibition celebrates the rich. It's more a tribute to the embroiderers, the silversmiths, the gem cutters, sculptors and painters who created all of this, mostly in over-the-top ornamental homage to flora and fauna.
As to the art lovers there to support the museum, director Jay Xu said this, the largest such event in its history, was the beginning of engaging "all the donors," from the most generous to "everyone who comes through our door." The V neckline of Xu's lapel-less and sleek blanc de chine tuxedo echoed his museum's new graphic symbol, an upside-down A. Mathematically, he said, that upside-down A symbol means "for all," and it reflects "our new perspective, bold and confident."
At our table, we boldly and confidently wondered about the gender neutrality of a seven-strand pearl necklace designed for a man."
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