On seeing a tiger skin at Powis Castle
I was totally unaware of the Clive Museum at Powis Castle until I attended a series of seminars at the Glynn Vivian Art Gallery. Amassed during the British colonisation of India, ‘the collection of artefacts from India displayed in the Clive Museum is the largest private collection of this type in the UK’. ‘The museum includes ivories, textiles, statues of Hindu gods, ornamental silver and gold, weapons and ceremonial armour’. However, on visiting Powis Castle it was the tiger skin hanging high up on a wall that drew my immediate attention. For me, I find the display of tiger skins to be highly problematic; they are an anachronism, an uncomfortable relic of a bygone era.
On seeing the tiger skin at Powis Castle, I was immediately caught by the awkward articulation of the full taxidermied head against the flattened and flayed body. Perhaps the most unnerving element was the fully alert glass eyes that sat in contrast to the dead body. Without any meaningful interpretation on display, I felt that this apex predator had simply been relegated to a decorative object.
But what else does this tiger skin represent?
On seeing the tiger skin at Powis Castle, I was immediately caught by the awkward articulation of the full taxidermied head against the flattened and flayed body. Perhaps the most unnerving element was the fully alert glass eyes that sat in contrast to the dead body. Without any meaningful interpretation on display, I felt that this apex predator had simply been relegated to a decorative object.
But what else does this tiger skin represent?
Perhaps the easiest and most obvious answer would be the preservation of a kill, or a mere hunting trophy. If this is the case - I’m curious to know who killed this particular animal, and in what circumstances; perhaps the castle have this information on record.
Another insight is given in a book published in association with the National Trust called Treasures from India: The Clive Collection at Powis Castle (1987). In the chapter entitled The British as Collectors and Patrons in India, it explains that ‘collecting’ was regarded as a highly serious activity in 16th and 17th century Europe; an essential part of a learned and cultivated life. Ostensibly, it was an intellectual attempt to understand the nature of the universe by assembling ‘natural’ and ‘artificial’ objects, a model of universal nature made private.
For me the tiger skin takes on a greater meaning when considered within the context of the colonial collection at Powis Castle. The Clive Museum is named after two generations of the Clive family.
For those who may be unaware (or like me were not taught colonial history at school), Robert Clive was a key figure in the East India Company (EIC). Primarily through force, the EIC financially profited from the wealth and natural resources of India and ultimately laid the foundation for the formal colonisation of India by the British in 1858.
The following journal entry offers a potential reading of the tiger skin within a colonial context. In 1864, the British Army Officer Walter Campbell wrote ‘Never attack a tiger on foot—if you can help it. There are cases in which you must do so. Then face him like a Briton, and kill him if you can; for if you fail to kill him, he will certainly kill you’. By mimicking the exploits of Mughal emperors, the British were seeking to position themselves as the new Mughals. Tigers represented for the British all that was wild and untamed in the Indian natural world. Sramek (2006) postulates ‘Precisely because tigers were dangerous and powerful beasts, tiger hunting represented a struggle with fearsome nature that needed to be resolutely faced "like a Briton," as Campbell put it. Only by successfully vanquishing tigers would Britons prove their manliness and their fitness to rule over Indians’.
One of the greatest adversaries of British rule in India was Tipu Sultan whose personal emblem was the tiger. Many of Tipu’s personal possessions are decorated with a tiger motif, including one of the finials from his throne which can be found within the Clive Museum (there is another one in the V&A museum in London).
Symbolically, does the tiger skin at Powis Castle represent the defeat of a key enemy, the defeat of a nation, and a fitness to rule over Indians?
Another insight is given in a book published in association with the National Trust called Treasures from India: The Clive Collection at Powis Castle (1987). In the chapter entitled The British as Collectors and Patrons in India, it explains that ‘collecting’ was regarded as a highly serious activity in 16th and 17th century Europe; an essential part of a learned and cultivated life. Ostensibly, it was an intellectual attempt to understand the nature of the universe by assembling ‘natural’ and ‘artificial’ objects, a model of universal nature made private.
For me the tiger skin takes on a greater meaning when considered within the context of the colonial collection at Powis Castle. The Clive Museum is named after two generations of the Clive family.
For those who may be unaware (or like me were not taught colonial history at school), Robert Clive was a key figure in the East India Company (EIC). Primarily through force, the EIC financially profited from the wealth and natural resources of India and ultimately laid the foundation for the formal colonisation of India by the British in 1858.
The following journal entry offers a potential reading of the tiger skin within a colonial context. In 1864, the British Army Officer Walter Campbell wrote ‘Never attack a tiger on foot—if you can help it. There are cases in which you must do so. Then face him like a Briton, and kill him if you can; for if you fail to kill him, he will certainly kill you’. By mimicking the exploits of Mughal emperors, the British were seeking to position themselves as the new Mughals. Tigers represented for the British all that was wild and untamed in the Indian natural world. Sramek (2006) postulates ‘Precisely because tigers were dangerous and powerful beasts, tiger hunting represented a struggle with fearsome nature that needed to be resolutely faced "like a Briton," as Campbell put it. Only by successfully vanquishing tigers would Britons prove their manliness and their fitness to rule over Indians’.
One of the greatest adversaries of British rule in India was Tipu Sultan whose personal emblem was the tiger. Many of Tipu’s personal possessions are decorated with a tiger motif, including one of the finials from his throne which can be found within the Clive Museum (there is another one in the V&A museum in London).
Symbolically, does the tiger skin at Powis Castle represent the defeat of a key enemy, the defeat of a nation, and a fitness to rule over Indians?
My final reading of the tiger skin is both an economic and ecological one.
During the colonial period there was a commonly held belief that colonisation was primarily a civilising mission - The White Man’s Burden. This was essentially a pretence for what was first and foremost a process of extraction. For me, the following statistic starkly reinforces this fact: at the start of the 18th century India’s share of the world economy was 23%, when Britain left in 1947 it was around 3% (Tharoor 2017).
Under colonisation, British planters forced Indian famers to grow commercial crops on their land, such as tea, poppies (for opium production) and indigo. Cultivation on the scale required to make significant profits required the clearing of wild habitats for agricultural use. Tigers were an animal to be eradicated in order to extend agricultural land. Although tiger hunting began as a sport, it switched to become an economic imperative under colonial rule.
To intensify activity the British declared tigers (as well as lions, cheetahs and leopards) as vermin and offered a bounty for every predator killed. According to one popular estimation, 80,000 tigers were killed between 1875 and 1925 and were nearly hunted to extinction under British colonial rule. According to the last census in 2018, there are only 2967 tigers living in India today.
The exact cost of historic habitat destruction, bio-diversity loss and the introduction of invasive species to India under colonial rule is perhaps impossible to calculate. I feel that the environmental damage caused under colonialism is often overlooked, even though it is readily visible within colonial collections.
As a person of Indian descent living within Wales, my reading of the tiger skin hanging at Powis Castle is likely to differ to others. Within the context of the Clive Museum at Powis Castle, for me, the tiger skin represents a domination over nature, Indians and Otherness - the ramifications of which continue to play out economically, culturally and environmentally to this day.
What does it mean to approach this work as a Welsh artist?
I was asked what does it mean to approach this work as a Welsh artist? This seemed like a curious question to me so I wanted to unravel it a little. I struggle somewhat with the limitations of tying myself to a particular nationality, but for the sake of this post lets just say that I am a Welsh artist of Indian descent.
I moved to Wales shortly after devolution. Although I wasn't involved in the arts at that time, looking back at some key publications (Certain Welsh artists, Here + Now, Imaging Wales) it seems many artists in Wales at the time were addressing concerns relating to politics, language, post-industrialisation, mythology and the land. There seemed to be a general redefining of the Welsh identity, as distinct from a wider British identity. If Wales was England's first colony (as suggested in Imaging Wales) it could perhaps be said that many of the artists at the time were involved in a process of cultural decolonisation.
The following quote by Gwyn A William comes to mind - The Welsh as a people have lived by making and remaking themselves in generation after generation, usually against the odds, usually within a British context. Wales is an artefact which the Welsh produce. If they want to. It requires an act of choice.
However, looking back at these publications, I get a sense that certain artist voices were minoritised (although I'm happy to be proved wrong). Where were the Black, Asian and other ethnically diverse artist voices of Wales? I wonder if these minoritised voices essentially represented the colonised voice within the colonised, and were therefore at a double remove from the table. Perhaps the environment wasn't fertile enough for those voices to emerge, or, that the re-assertion of a unique Welsh identity was too narrow at the time.
On a more progressive note, I sense the environment has changed. I feel that books like Welsh Plural (Essays on the Future of Wales) are helping to carve and shape the identity of a far more pluralistic and inclusive Wales than previously envisioned. I also think intersectionality as a framework offers an opportunity to think about how oppressions are linked, and are not necessarily in conflict with each other. Although I may still represent a marginalised voice, I sense a change in the environment, that people are more receptive to the conversation I want to explore. In part, I think there is a contextual understanding because of Wales' historic relationship to England and what it might mean to have your cultural history misrepresented or erased.
I moved to Wales shortly after devolution. Although I wasn't involved in the arts at that time, looking back at some key publications (Certain Welsh artists, Here + Now, Imaging Wales) it seems many artists in Wales at the time were addressing concerns relating to politics, language, post-industrialisation, mythology and the land. There seemed to be a general redefining of the Welsh identity, as distinct from a wider British identity. If Wales was England's first colony (as suggested in Imaging Wales) it could perhaps be said that many of the artists at the time were involved in a process of cultural decolonisation.
The following quote by Gwyn A William comes to mind - The Welsh as a people have lived by making and remaking themselves in generation after generation, usually against the odds, usually within a British context. Wales is an artefact which the Welsh produce. If they want to. It requires an act of choice.
However, looking back at these publications, I get a sense that certain artist voices were minoritised (although I'm happy to be proved wrong). Where were the Black, Asian and other ethnically diverse artist voices of Wales? I wonder if these minoritised voices essentially represented the colonised voice within the colonised, and were therefore at a double remove from the table. Perhaps the environment wasn't fertile enough for those voices to emerge, or, that the re-assertion of a unique Welsh identity was too narrow at the time.
On a more progressive note, I sense the environment has changed. I feel that books like Welsh Plural (Essays on the Future of Wales) are helping to carve and shape the identity of a far more pluralistic and inclusive Wales than previously envisioned. I also think intersectionality as a framework offers an opportunity to think about how oppressions are linked, and are not necessarily in conflict with each other. Although I may still represent a marginalised voice, I sense a change in the environment, that people are more receptive to the conversation I want to explore. In part, I think there is a contextual understanding because of Wales' historic relationship to England and what it might mean to have your cultural history misrepresented or erased.
A re-writing of The Tiger who Came to Tea
This was one of my favourite books when I was young. However, on a recent re-reading of it I couldn't help but think that the tiger in the story stands in for a somewhat exotic 'outsider'. Somehow I managed to relate to the tiger, perhaps because I imagine it to be an Indian tiger - and I do have a big appetite. But in the story the tiger never comes back - and we never find out why. Essentially he is the 'bad immigrant' lol. breaking all the customs, eating all the food and never returning. Somehow, I was prompted to re-write the text from the tigers point of view to explain why he never returns.
Tea at Sophie’s house
It was a strange set of circumstances that bought me to this place, but the people in this place were perhaps stranger still and stories of their peculiarities could fill the many pages of a book.
But I would like to tell you the story of one particular afternoon.
A certain house drew my attention. The front door was painted red. Don’t you know, all the best houses have red doors.
I extended my paw and pressed the bell.
At that moment I wondered who might live inside that house, with its red painted door.
Perhaps a friendly old woman,
or a young couple in love,
or maybe a family with many wild and rambunctious children.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
As the door opened a wonderful smell of food drifted through the air and reached my tender tiger nostrils.
I was reminded of how hungry I was.
It was a polite young girl who had opened the door, wearing a purple dress with a blue ribbon in her hair.
‘Hello, my name’s Sophie’ she said
‘Excuse me, I’m very hungry, do you think I could have tea with you?’ I replied
Sophie’s mummy said
‘Of course, come in’.
I made my way into the house. The house was very small and my head nearly touched the ceiling.
I sat down at the table where Sophie and her mummy were having tea.
Sophie’s mummy said to me ‘Would you like a sandwich?’
I’d never eaten a sandwich before. Nor had I eaten food in the shape of triangle.
But they looked delicious. I was so hungry I swallowed them all in one big mouthful.
Owp!
I was still hungry and luckily Sophie passed me the buns.
I ate the first bun, it was sticky but delicious. I then decided to eat all of the buns, and then I ate all of the biscuits, and then all of the cake – until there was no food left on the table.
Sophie’s mummy then said
‘Would you like a drink?’
She handed me this peculiar little cup. It was too small and dainty for my big furry paws.
This simply wouldn’t do. I had no choice but to drink all of milk in the milk jug and all of the tea in the teapot.
I was still quite hungry, and Sophie and I hunted around the kitchen for something else to eat.
There was some wonderful supper cooking in the saucepans on the stove – which I decided to eat.
I then ate all of the food in the fridge.
And then all of the packets and the tins in the cupboard.
I then drank all the milk,
All of the orange juice,
All of Daddy’s beer
And … all the water in the tap.
Not wishing to out stay my welcome, or to forget my manners
I said ‘ thank you for my nice tea, I think I’d better go now’.
If only all the people in this strange place were as wonderful as Sophie and her mummy I might have decided to stay.
But with trumpet in hand, I decided to move on.
It was a strange set of circumstances that bought me to this place, but the people in this place were perhaps stranger still and stories of their peculiarities could fill the many pages of a book.
But I would like to tell you the story of one particular afternoon.
A certain house drew my attention. The front door was painted red. Don’t you know, all the best houses have red doors.
I extended my paw and pressed the bell.
At that moment I wondered who might live inside that house, with its red painted door.
Perhaps a friendly old woman,
or a young couple in love,
or maybe a family with many wild and rambunctious children.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
As the door opened a wonderful smell of food drifted through the air and reached my tender tiger nostrils.
I was reminded of how hungry I was.
It was a polite young girl who had opened the door, wearing a purple dress with a blue ribbon in her hair.
‘Hello, my name’s Sophie’ she said
‘Excuse me, I’m very hungry, do you think I could have tea with you?’ I replied
Sophie’s mummy said
‘Of course, come in’.
I made my way into the house. The house was very small and my head nearly touched the ceiling.
I sat down at the table where Sophie and her mummy were having tea.
Sophie’s mummy said to me ‘Would you like a sandwich?’
I’d never eaten a sandwich before. Nor had I eaten food in the shape of triangle.
But they looked delicious. I was so hungry I swallowed them all in one big mouthful.
Owp!
I was still hungry and luckily Sophie passed me the buns.
I ate the first bun, it was sticky but delicious. I then decided to eat all of the buns, and then I ate all of the biscuits, and then all of the cake – until there was no food left on the table.
Sophie’s mummy then said
‘Would you like a drink?’
She handed me this peculiar little cup. It was too small and dainty for my big furry paws.
This simply wouldn’t do. I had no choice but to drink all of milk in the milk jug and all of the tea in the teapot.
I was still quite hungry, and Sophie and I hunted around the kitchen for something else to eat.
There was some wonderful supper cooking in the saucepans on the stove – which I decided to eat.
I then ate all of the food in the fridge.
And then all of the packets and the tins in the cupboard.
I then drank all the milk,
All of the orange juice,
All of Daddy’s beer
And … all the water in the tap.
Not wishing to out stay my welcome, or to forget my manners
I said ‘ thank you for my nice tea, I think I’d better go now’.
If only all the people in this strange place were as wonderful as Sophie and her mummy I might have decided to stay.
But with trumpet in hand, I decided to move on.
Partnership with Artes Mundi and the National Trust
I'm happy to say I will be working in partnership with Artes Mundi and the National Trust to explore the South Asian collection at Powis Castle. The partnership will consist of a period of research culminating in a series of works, including an on-site performance in Summer 2023.
The proposed title for the performance A Tiger in the Castle hence the name for the blog page.
This page will articulate some of my research and thinking.
The proposed title for the performance A Tiger in the Castle hence the name for the blog page.
This page will articulate some of my research and thinking.
Links to other work relating to Powis Castle
Nisha Duggal
(993) Artist Talk: Nisha Duggal - YouTube
NISHA DUGGAL - In a Welsh castle, boxed treasures from home /...
Hassan Vawda
https://www.roots-routes.org/%D8%AC%D8%A7-%D9%85%D9%90is-wineglass-the-national-trusts-powis-castle-and-the-clive-of-india-collection-by-hassan-vawda/
(993) Artist Talk: Nisha Duggal - YouTube
NISHA DUGGAL - In a Welsh castle, boxed treasures from home /...
Hassan Vawda
https://www.roots-routes.org/%D8%AC%D8%A7-%D9%85%D9%90is-wineglass-the-national-trusts-powis-castle-and-the-clive-of-india-collection-by-hassan-vawda/
