Dunhuang is a name that resonates through the ages as one of the truly great treasure troves of art and culture. The National Museum of History's (NMH) exhibition From the Forgotten Deserts: Centuries of Dazzling Dunhuang Art, which promised so much, is not only a sad disappointment but an object lesson in how sloppy exhibition design can undermine even the most exciting of exhibits.
From the moment I walked into the exhibition area, I was exposed to a series of minor disappointments that marred much of my enjoyment of the exhibition. First there was the semi-literate English introduction posted in large type, with its usual complement of typographic errors. This is hardly the first time that the NMH has been guilty of this sort of carelessness, and for a national museum with international pretensions, carelessness of this kind is simply unforgivable.
Then there is the question of the arrangement of the artifacts. The exhibition is organized by theme, which is fair enough, but no attempt is made in the layout to create a sense of thematic or chronological progression. After your ticket is taken, you find yourself, without preamble, in an area of frescos featuring the theme of clothing, and a few steps further on, the frescos are illustrative of architecture. It all is rather haphazard, without clear focus or progression.
Then, moments later, one is brought to a further realization. The "frescos" that one is looking at are part of a collection of "30 genuine fresco copies" that are on loan from the Dunhuang Academy. While there is nothing wrong with copies being featured in an exhibition, it seemed a little odd that they would constitute such a large proportion of the exhibited materials -- a total of 102 items -- and most aggravating of all, that they are not clearly distinguished from the few original works: 10 very fine paintings on silk from the Musee National des Arts Asiatiques-Guimet.
To add insult to injury, some of the "exhibits" are no more than large-scale computer printouts -- of indifferent quality to boot -- of frescos. With exhibits of this quality, you would be better off with a book of illustrations.
Then there are the 20 "musical instrument replicas" from the Tainan National University of the Arts, most of which would not look out of place in the souvenir shop. As with the "genuine fresco copies," these may serve some purpose in an educational or research context but are certainly out of place as key exhibits.
As if all this wasn't enough, some of the frescos are sloppily tacked or pasted to the wall in a manner that would shame any self-respecting high school art class. By trying to pass this off as an international exhibition, and charging accordingly, the NMH is guilty of the type of skullduggery that can only injure its reputation. Taiwan's art lovers deserve more than this inept slight-of-hand.
Among the original works on display from the Musee National des Arts Asiatiques, there are two pages from the notebook of Paul Pelliot and a letter to Pelliot from his rival, Sir Aurel Stein. These documents are undated and are not given any context outside a timeline on the other side of the room and a brief background on Pelliot. Having placed these items in the show, no effort has been made to provide any context regarding the removal of Dunhuang's artifacts by foreign explorers in the early part of the 20th century.



