Painting the Palace Walls: Artists of the Potala
Captured by Xing Delong, the photograph "Suspended in mid-air, painters at the Potala Palace" shows workers hanging in the air at the site. The Potala Palace rises along the crimson mountain crest, its structures built in red and white. The white walls, as pure as milk, are a tribute to that radiant edifice. For the faithful, this sanctuary stands like a mound of white rice atop the peak, made even more striking by golden sunlight gleaming across its rooftops. May King Songtsen Gampo's might endure without end.
Lhasa folk song Volunteers Photographed by Xing Delong Volunteers brought their own buckets Photographed by Basang Each year, as autumn gives way to winter, residents begin the Potala Palace's customary "changing new clothes" ritual, making its white walls gleam with striking brightness. In classical Tibetan literature, the phrase "the bright moonlight pours over the white walls" serves as a common metaphor, typically evoking cleanliness and virtue.
As the important Tibetan cultural festival "Lhabab Düchen" (Buddha's Descent Day, which falls on November 22nd in 2024) draws near, new paint will be applied not only to the Potala Palace but also to many traditional temples such as the Jokhang Temple, and even to ordinary people's homes, symbolizing the farewell to the old and the welcome of the new.
Basang photographed volunteers. In earlier times, the people who painted the Potala Palace in Tibet were called “moikaw a,” meaning “the ones who make clean.” Those who performed this task often dwelled at the base of the palace, a region that in Tibetan is called “xue,” which means “below.” The residents of that area were known as “xueba.” Each year, the “moikawa” carried the red earth and white lime used for painting to a pool near a stone tablet at the foot of the Potala Palace.
At that location, voluntary offerings from believers, including rock sugar and milk, were added to the white lime bucket, which was then crushed, sifted, mixed, and diluted. The red powder, meanwhile, was combined with red sugar, medicinal powder, and a juice made from tree bark. Once the mixture was ready, it was transported to the Potala Palace by manual labor. Some of the young and strong workers, barefoot and energetic, would almost sprint up the stairs with it.
Volunteering these days isn't limited to monks; residents of Lhasa and tourists also have the chance to join in. Every morning, people line up beneath the Potala Palace clutching assorted plastic buckets, while the palace staff, already on hand, distribute paint to them. Midway through each delivery, a person would wait to imprint a mark on the workers' faces, almost like recording their presence. "Volunteers Photographed by Xing Delong
Basang, who is Han Chinese and arrived in Lhasa last year to work, took this photo; his Tibetan name is Basang. Around this season, phrases such as "the sweetest palace" and "licking the Potala Palace" become prominent, since milk, honey, and saffron are frequently included in the paint to boost adhesion. However, thanks to advances in modern technology, that approach is slowly disappearing—today, more bone glue is being mixed into the materials so they better resist pests and decay.
“I participated in this year's Potala Palace painting volunteer event. Early in the morning, we lined up at the foot of the Potala Palace.” This year, for the first time, he volunteered for the Potala Palace painting project and also recorded with his camera the Lhasa volunteers splashing paint between the white and red walls. Aside from his work, he writes articles about Tibet and is a photography enthusiast.
The age range of the volunteers was remarkably broad, spanning from sixty-year-olds to children of six or seven brought along by their parents to take part. I was taken aback by how many local residents had chosen to join the wall-painting effort of their own accord. What truly pleased me was that young people constituted a significant share of the volunteers, a sign that the youth of Tibet hold their heritage in high regard and are eager to engage with it directly. Young volunteers Photographed by Basang Spider-Man on the red and white wall.
The base colors of the Potala Palace are red and white, as is widely recognized. In the context of the palace's construction history and Tibetan history, these two hues represent the local political authority (white palace) and the Gelugpa religious authority (red palace). From a cultural standpoint, the red and white colors also signify the profound beliefs of the Tibetan people, with origins that can be traced back as early as BC.
The 'doma' (red, also known as 'tso') employed in Tibetan folk ceremonies is, according to some scholars, divided into white and red—white for benevolent deities and red for wrathful ones. In ancient times, it is said, the red was colored with the blood of livestock, which mirrored the underlying attitude people held toward these hues. Far from fading, this color concept kept evolving as history moved forward.
At the Rubens Museum, an 18th-century piece titled "The White Lotus Seat in the Altar City" uses white among five colors to represent both the Great Sun Buddha from the "Five Buddhas" and the immaculate round lotus disk. In later eras, people adopted various hues to differentiate philosophical schools and to express more abstract, recondite ideas. Meanwhile, during the Potala Palace's annual repainting, those who scale walls and dart across rooftops also capture considerable public attention.
According to a 2004 report, the traditional "Sui Kawa" painting method used in Tibet's snowy regions differed greatly from modern practices back then. These workers, whom netizens have dubbed "Spider-Men," each secure a rope around their waist and suspend themselves from the walls of the Potala Palace, carrying out the demanding painting tasks while keeping the entire city of Lhasa in view. A photograph of the Potala Palace "Spider-Man" was taken by Xing Delong.
In those days, a wooden board was constructed first, with a rope fixed to one end and a piece of woolen fabric attached to the other. During the plastering process, the rope was suspended from the roof, and the mixture was allowed to flow down along it.
The painting process was carried out as follows: the wet cloth was dragged along by the workers above, who shifted the wooden board up and down and side to side, while the mixture moved through the rope and board onto the woolen fabric. Meanwhile, the "Sui Kawa mother" at the base of the mountain shouted directions, which the workers followed closely to guide their movements and complete the work.
The "Spider-Man" at the Potala Palace Photographed by Xing Delong Reborn from the ashes. Because the palace has experienced numerous natural disasters and man-made wars throughout its history, the annual painting work constitutes a critical part of its maintenance project. During the Tubo era, fires and lightning strikes affected the Potala Palace; during the Langdarma period, cultural destruction campaigns and the "Battle of Wu Yu" instigated by Langdarma's two sons brought turmoil and chaos to Lhasa.
The Potala Palace had many of its significant sites damaged, and it is said that only the Phawang Dorje and Holy Avalositesvara halls escaped destruction. Restoration and rebuilding were later undertaken by the forebears of the Tibetan people. Throughout the nineteenth century, both national and local governments kept up their safeguarding of the Potala Palace. Nonetheless, a fire in May 1984 signaled that even greater dedication to preserving the palace was required.
Potala Palace painter Photographed by Xing Delong. As evening fell, a shout from the far side of the wall reached me, unlike the cheerful sounds of temple-goers or the occasional drunken clamor. It escalated into screams, prompting me to dash into the courtyard, where billowing smoke and flames were visible on the Potala Palace's right side.
In the darkness of the hall, which had no electricity, I climbed slowly, reaching out to grip whatever fixed objects stood before me, checking that they were solid before I moved any further. People jostled and pushed one another as they ascended, with butter lamps and flashlights providing the only illumination. Along the way, I noticed elderly individuals with bowed heads murmuring prayers, many clutching containers of water and tilting them upward as an offering. The wooden stairs leading up the platform were somewhat disorderly, adding to the scramble in the pitch-black space.
The stairs were slick with spilled water, and the narrow ascent was already poorly ventilated. On top of the butter-lamp smoke, burning wood and silk now produced a stifling, choking haze so thick that I could barely see ahead, let alone advance with any speed. Upon finally reaching the top floor, I saw what seemed to be someone doubled over on the floor, gasping for air and coughing uncontrollably.
The location where the fire occurred was, as I discovered only years afterward, the Jokhang Buddha Hall. According to the account given by the noted contemporary painter Pei Zhuangxin, it was subsequently determined that the blaze had originated from a short circuit in the lighting circuitry.
In October 1988, following a funding request from the government of the Tibet Autonomous Region for the Potala Palace's upkeep, the State Council approved a central financial allocation of 35 million yuan and mandated that the work be finished by 1993. This moment proved to be a pivotal point in the Potala Palace's recent restoration timeline, since it triggered the very first comprehensive renovation ever undertaken on the structure. (The red scene, 1997 Pei Zhuangxin)
In 2002, the largest undertaking for the preservation and restoration of cultural heritage in Tibet since the PRC was founded got underway. This project centered on the upkeep and conservation of the Potala Palace, Norbulingka, and Sakya Monastery. Earlier, in May 1989, Jiang Huaiying—then the Deputy Chief Engineer of the National Administration of Cultural Heritage—had been tasked with supervising the Potala Palace's first-ever large-scale restoration. By the time that effort concluded, its final expenditure had reached 55 million yuan.
Perched atop "Marpo Ri," the Potala Palace today appears even grander, like an old general quietly watching over the land's history. Its maintenance costs alone have reached 210 million yuan. As in centuries past, the people of this region still contribute "bricks and tiles" to the palace, inscribing their own chapter in its story. This was evident during the 2024 Palace Wall Painting Day. The people tend to the cloth palace, and in return, the cloth palace safeguards them. This piece is adapted from Sorang Wangqing's blog.