The Swayambunath stupa, with the all-seeing eyes of the Buddha, overlooks Katmandu

By Carl Duncan

(Los Angeles Times) -- Mention your itinerary includes the Katmandu Valley, and someone will likely put in a shopping request.

This time I successfully evaded all but a single request: "Bring back one of those beautiful copper Buddhas," my friend said, handing me a $100 bill. "Try and get an original."

Now, I am easing a rented motorbike through the back alleys of Patan near the MahaBouddha Temple, where 99 percent of these copper images are created. Inside the tiny cavelike workshops craftsmen tapped their chisels, carving the finishing details on wise Buddhas and dancing Sivas -- creating stock for a growing, though centuries-old, market.

The lively and intricately detailed images are based on popular Buddhist and Hindu motifs, whose forms are fixed by rules. They represent 1,500 years of artistic tradition.

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Shopping for these lost wax "bronzes" -- a generic term that includes nearly pure copper and even silver images -- is a tourist tradition here. And few people who visit the cities of Katmandu, Bhaktapur or Patan (each within a 20-minute taxi ride of the other) leave without at least a small icon in their bag.

The craftsmen who make these statues are Newars, the ethnic people of the Katmandu Valley, who have made Patan the artistic and cultural center of the Himalayan region for the past 1,000 years. Back in the 13th century, the Mongolian emperor Kublai Khan was so impressed by the famous Newar artist Arniko that he made him head of the metal workers' community in Beijing. For centuries, Tibetans have commissioned bronzes from the Newars.

Bronze images have always been used for worship, both in temples and at home. The Nepalese show their devotion by placing rice, fruit and flower offerings next to their favorite images. Tuesdays in Katmandu are sacred to Ganesh, the Hindu god that is among the most popular in the Nepalese pantheon. And on this day, long lines of people with colorful offerings wait their turn to distribute them at the Ganesh shrine on Durbar (palace) Square.

All Newar bronzes are made by the lost wax process. An image is first fashioned in beeswax, then dipped into a slurry of clay. When the clay has hardened, the wax is melted out and recovered for reuse. (About 25 percent is "lost" to the porous clay, giving the process its name.) Molten metal is poured into the mold cavity and, when cooled, the one-time-only clay mold is broken to release the image: a faithful, if slightly rough, rendition of the wax model. The metal statue is then carefully carved into the finished statue.

Two Buddah statues stand side by side. The one on the left is a copy and the one on the right is an original by Asha Kaji

The art of such statue making, as well as precise diagrams and strict rules governing the shapes of Buddhist and Hindu icons, have been handed down through the centuries.

Only those with sufficient skills and artistic imagination, however, can successfully create in three dimensions from two-dimensional drawings. These gifted few are considered original artists. Only a handful are now left in Patan.

"The vast majority of craftsmen make copies," says Tara Shakya of the Monumental Craft Gallery in Thamel. Though they also hand carve every wax form and copper image, he explains that, "They must work from other statues, copying what they see."

Often that other statue is itself a copy, and each step away from the original vision blurs the image. But many copies are finely executed.

"It takes experience to recognize an original," says Shakya.

Strolling down Katmandu's New Road, from the parade grounds toward the Hanuman Dhoka Palace, we pass dozens of shops displaying stunning statues. Though some are monumental crowd-stoppers, most are less than a foot (30 cm) high.

Just south of the palace, a half-dozen bronze shops stand side by side. In one, Handicraft Enterprises, proprietor Purna Dhakwa has a wide selection of statues. Prices start at only $15 for the popular 3-inch (7.6-cm) Buddhas and boddhisatwas (distinguished by their ornate crowns). A fine 4-inch (10-cm) Ganesh is about $50. His crown is gilded and his face is delicately painted, two characteristics of Newar bronzes.

Beautiful as some of these smaller images are, they are all copies. Dhakwa took down two eight-inch (20-cm) copper statues, each depicting the same traditional image called Vajra Satwa ("white thunderbolt" in Sanskrit). One is a middle quality statue (about $85), the other an original (about $220).

"You can tell an original," Dhakwa explains, "in the natural facial expressions and the graceful forms, and in the details -- the little folds in the gowns and the symbolic objects the images hold in their hands."

Comparing the two side by side, the copy appears slightly out of focus, while the original is crisp and sharply detailed.

Neither is gilded or painted, except for the traditional blue hair. Such work can double the price of a statue but can also hide casting and carving flaws.

"The painter does not make the best statue," said Dhakwa, "the carver does."

The hefty, solid original is unsigned. (They never are.)

"This was made by Asha Kaji Shakya in Patan. He uses extreme detail in his designs. It is very difficult to get his work."

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And rather difficult to find his workshop, I am thinking as Sanu and I scour Patan alleys filled with Newar artisans. Finally, we find his private house near the Austrian Embassy. Asha Kaji's wife, Laxmi, swings open the gate, and we roll our muddy motorcycle inside.

The walled compound holds a modern two-story cement block house. A wooden stove and drying sheds for the clay molds are out back near a vegetable garden. We find Asha Kaji, who is in his mid-50s, working upstairs. Filling the shelves and tabletops of his living room are complicated images of Hindu gods -- many multi-armed and multi-headed -- and blissful, simple Buddhas. These statue styles are so dramatically different that it hardly seems possible they were fashioned by the same man -- or family. (He has also taught his three sons to be carvers also, though one has strayed and is working as a schoolteachers.) Asha Kaji laughs when asked about the contrasting images.

"A good carver can do any item," he says through Sanu. "It's no trouble."

But lost wax is a tedious and time-consuming process. Asha Kaji picks up a lovely 10-inch (25.4-cm) copper statue we are admiring.

"This Shakti (female consort of Siva) took three weeks to make."

A consolation is that it already is sold (priced at about $400). Like all his work now, it was done on order, often from the retailers themselves. And everything he makes is strictly tradition.

"I have no new designs just for the tourist."

Nearby is a brilliant silver statue of the bodhisattva White Tara. The Tara's price of $1,000 breaks down as $400 for the metal (95 percent silver, 5 percent copper) and $600 for the labor, he tells us.

Asha Kaji and son, Sagar, work on a wax model of a large Buddha

In a workroom down the hall, spacious and bare as a Georgia O'Keeffe studio, stands a nearly life-size, Touch-the-Earth Buddha (the Buddha at the moment of enlightenment). The wax statue is Asha Kaji's latest work-in-progress. Despite its size, it began just like all the others: as a ball of beeswax. He warms the wax over glowing charcoal and carves it with a spatula. After three months of daily work, the massive wax model is nearly finished.

This work was commissioned by a Tibetan monastery, and will be cast in copper. Copper -- rather than bronze (a copper alloy) -- is commonly used for the better statues in Nepal because the real art, Asha Kaji reminds us, is in the carving, not the casting. "It's what gives life to the statue." Not only does copper carve best, it can also be alloyed into many colors (from a light gold to a dark bronze) and is readily gilded and durable. In fact, finely made 6th-century copper statues have been found in Patan.

After the clay mold is made and the statue cast, the carving ("the most difficult part") will take another three months, Asha Kaji says. He doesn't know how much the copper statue will weigh when finished, but the price has already been agreed upon: "four and a half lakh rupees." A lakh is 100,000 rupees. Translation?

Almost $8,000.

The Buddha will be gilded and painted (work Asha Kaji hires out) and, he says, the monastery will probably have it decorated in precious stones. Obviously, my friend's $100 bill can't buy her a work of that quality. But I haven't given up yet.

In the beautiful town of Bhaktapur -- renovated and regulated to retain its classic Newar character -- we poke along the quiet brick streets, peeking into shrines and temples. Fascinating as they are, they are relatively empty now. As recently as the '50s, photos show such shrines full of Newar bronzes. But the Western world has so coveted them that nearly all unattended images have been spirited away to foreign museums or private collections.

Fine collectible-quality statues are still around however. Browsing the bronze shops near Bhaktapur's Nyatapol Square, I find a few Asha Kajis starting at about $300, and lovely originals by other artists for less.

But I've nearly given up finding one for under $100.

Then, in a quiet little shop near Durbar Square, I chance upon a small, unpainted copper Buddha. Front and back, it bears the crisp look of an original. And the face is perfect.

An old Asha Kaji? I don't ask. But at $80, it fits the bill.