Kizil Caves

Listen first. Under the wind there is the sound of water, a shallow river moving over stones somewhere below. Around you the cliffs are the colour of rust and dry clay, streaked with pale bands where centuries of rain have run down. The air smells of dust and poplar leaves. High in that crumbling rock face you can see dark doorways, one after another, like a row of open mouths. Those doorways lead into one of the oldest Buddhist cave complexes in all of China.

You are standing in Baicheng County, in the far west of China, in the region of Xinjiang. The river below is the Muzat, and the cliffs belong to a ridge that local people have long called Mingwu Tagh. The name Kizil comes from a Turkic word for red. Look at the rock and the name makes sense at once. The caves are cut into this soft, reddish stone, which was easy to carve but also easy to erode. That double nature runs through everything you will see here.

The caves are usually counted at around two hundred and thirty-six numbered grottoes, though not all of them survive in good condition. Monks and craftsmen worked here over several centuries. Scholars generally place the main period of activity between roughly the third and the eighth or ninth centuries of the common era. That makes Kizil older than the more famous caves at Dunhuang, far to the east. Many art historians see Kizil as an early link in the chain of Buddhist cave art that runs across China.

To understand why this place exists, picture the map. This valley lay within the ancient kingdom of Kucha, an oasis state on the northern branch of the Silk Road. Caravans moved between Central Asia and China through these oases, carrying silk, horses, glass and ideas. Buddhism travelled the same roads. Kucha became a major Buddhist centre, with monasteries, scholars and wealthy patrons. The people here spoke a language that modern scholars call Tocharian — an Indo-European tongue, distantly related to the languages of Europe. That is the first surprise many visitors miss.

Before you climb, look for the large seated statue near the entrance. It shows Kumarajiva, a monk born in Kucha in the fourth century. He later travelled to China and became one of the most important translators of Buddhist texts into Chinese. His translations shaped how Buddhism was read in East Asia for many centuries. The statue is modern, but the man was real. In a sense, he carried the world of these caves eastward in words.

Now follow the walkways and stairs that run along the cliff. Many of the caves here follow a design often called the central-pillar cave. A wide front chamber opens into the rock. At the back stands a solid block of stone, left in place during carving. Narrow corridors run around this pillar. Monks walked through these corridors in a circle, always keeping the sacred image on their right. This walking meditation was a form of worship, and the architecture was built to guide the body through it.

The paintings are the real heart of Kizil. Look up at the ceilings where they survive. In many caves, the vault is divided into a pattern of diamond shapes, like scales or overlapping hills. Inside each diamond is a tiny scene. Most of these scenes tell stories from the past lives of the Buddha, known as jataka tales. In them he appears as a monkey, a deer, a king or a merchant, always giving something up for the sake of others. One diamond, one story — repeated across the whole ceiling.

Then there is the colour. Notice the deep, cool blue that appears again and again. Much of that blue came from lapis lazuli, a precious stone that was mined far away in the mountains of what is now Afghanistan. It was ground into powder and carried along the trade routes to this valley. Think about that for a moment. The sky on these ceilings was literally made from a stone that travelled thousands of kilometres by caravan. Greens, ochres and whites fill out the palette.

Some caves show musicians and dancers, figures holding lutes, harps and flutes. Kucha was famous for its music. During the Tang dynasty, Kuchean musicians and melodies became fashionable at the Chinese imperial court, far to the east. So when you see these painted players, you are looking at a real tradition that once filled palace halls. The painted bodies are often slender and graceful, with features that blend Indian, Central Asian and Chinese influences. That mix is exactly what you would expect at a crossroads like this.

As you walk, you will notice damage. Faces scratched away. Blank rectangles of bare plaster where paintings once were. Some of this is from time, earthquakes and water. Some came from later iconoclasm, when images of faces were deliberately defaced. And some has a very specific modern story. In the early twentieth century, German expeditions led by scholars such as Albert Grünwedel and Albert von Le Coq cut large sections of mural from these walls and shipped them to Berlin.

That is the second surprise. Part of Kizil is not in Kizil at all. Many fragments are held in a museum in Berlin, and some were destroyed during bombing in the Second World War. Other pieces ended up in collections elsewhere. Today researchers work to reconnect these scattered fragments, at least on paper and in digital images. So the empty patches on the walls are not simply loss. They are evidence of a long, complicated history of exploration, removal and debate about who should keep the past.

In 2014, the Kizil Caves were included in a UNESCO World Heritage listing that covers sites along the Silk Roads, from the old Chinese capital region through the Tianshan corridor. Protection now shapes the visit. Only a selection of caves is usually open at any time, and photography inside the caves is not allowed. Light, breath and humidity all harm the fragile paint. Your guide may carry a torch. Let your eyes adjust slowly, and the details will come forward from the dark.

When you step back out into daylight, pause on the walkway. Look down at the river and the line of trees along its banks. This green strip is why people came here at all — water, shade and shelter in a dry land. The monks who lived here saw this same view, heard this same water and felt this same wind coming off the desert. As you walk away, glance back at the dark doorways in the red cliff. Behind each one, a small painted world is still waiting quietly in the shade.