Additional reporting and photos: Anton L. Delgado.
Hundreds of headless deities huddle in rows within a Siem Reap warehouse, illuminated by the hum of fluorescent lights and slivers of sunlight peeking through small windows. The largest statue, nearly five meters tall, surveys the others. Or perhaps he would be looking down, if he still had a head. In this case, five heads.
For over a decade, a dedicated team of Cambodian and French archaeologists and conservators have toiled to reassemble a monumental statue of the Hindu god Shiva, looted from the Koh Ker temple complex in northern Cambodia. This UNESCO World Heritage Site work, a seven-ton depiction of a ten-armed Shiva in a dancing pose, dates back to the 10th century. However, during the turmoil of Cambodia’s civil conflict in the 1980s and 1990s, looters relentlessly smashed the stone deity into over 10,000 fragments.
Some larger pieces, including two heads, were preserved in Phnom Penh before the 1970s. A third head met its demise before looters reached it, and the final two faces remain missing.
This year, the world witnessed a glimmer of hope with the return of looted Cambodian artifacts from the United States, including pieces from the Denver Art Museum and private collectors like Netscape founder Jim Clark. These arrivals were met with jubilation, but the fanfare faded after repatriation.
However, even intact objects demand deep historical research to fully understand their place in Khmer history. The quiet restoration of the dancing Shiva by a combined French-Cambodian team sheds light on the painstaking and often difficult process of piecing together the country’s looted past.
A Sanctuary for Broken Gods
The shattered statue now resides outside the gates of Angkor Conservation, the Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts office within Siem Reap’s temple tourist hub. This facility houses thousands of ancient statues in various stages of repair, its grounds closed to the public and adorned with “No Photography” signs.
Hang Chansophea, Angkor Conservation’s collection manager, meticulously inventories and documents the project. She meticulously labels and stores digital records of each fragment, creating a personal identification card for every piece. On a sweltering April day, she meticulously sifted through a Styrofoam tray holding fragments mere millimeters wide, searching for connections. She confessed that focusing on these tiny pieces helps her endure the eight-hour days.
“Sometimes I get angry at the robbers,” she said. “Why did they try to break [the statues]? Because this is the heritage of the nation, the heritage of all.”
At the top of the Angkorian period within the 14th century, the statue also collapsed, breaking into several large fragments.
A History of Destruction and Neglect
The statue also suffered a collapse during the peak of the Angkorian period in the 14th century, fracturing into several large pieces. Éric Bourdonneau, an archaeologist and historian with the French School of the Far East, explains that the fallen statue remained relatively intact until the 20th century. He leads the restoration project in collaboration with Cambodian authorities.
“Ninety percent of the fragments were still inside [Kraham Temple] tower,” Bourdonneau said. “Of course, you could have hands, some fragments that, at various times in history, have been moved outside the tower because some peasant or some child played with them. No wonder some parts moved around.”
French archaeologists relocated some large fragments, like hands and heads, to the National Museum in Phnom Penh during the 1920s and 1960s. Bourdonneau views the colonial-era movement of these elements as problematic, with past historians and archaeologists in France and abroad believing themselves to be “the very best people to inform other people’s stories.”
Fuelling the Black Market
It’s unlikely that the Koh Ker statues were targeted during the Khmer Rouge rule of 1975-1979. However, looters ravaged Koh Ker temples in the late 1960s and early 1970s, and again in the 1980s and 1990s. Their expeditions were fuelled by the demands of wealthy Western art dealers and curators, capitalizing on the chaos gripping Cambodia at the time.
Unlike previous eras, late 20th-century looters sought to sever the connection between objects and their origins to evade legal repercussions. Antiquities dealers like the late Douglas Latchford, a notorious collector of Cambodian artefacts accused of smuggling looted objects before his death, employed this tactic of misrepresentation. Latchford claimed a massive three-ton Ganesha statue he sold was not the original, but merely a replica.
Dancing Shiva was one of the last Koh Ker statues to be looted. While vandals absconded with other nearby pieces, the Shiva remained, possibly due to its large size and the poor condition of its other two faces. However, in the early 1990s, looters finally severed these remaining faces. Scientists believe looters drove their chisels deeper into the statue’s body, fracturing the torso to break off the heads intact.
For years after this final blow, oblivious crowds of local and foreign tourists walked through the archaeological site, likely trampling on fragments of stone and broken pieces of history. This systematic destruction of the dancing Shiva continued until restoration efforts began in 2012.
A Monumental Puzzle
Bourdonneau emphasizes the project’s unique complexity. “It’s extremely unusual,” he said. “Of course, it’s not uncommon to have projects where you work with dozens or even hundreds of fragments. But here we have collected… over 10,000 fragments.”
Restoration is further complicated by the fact that roughly 80% of the statue’s surface is smooth and lacks any defining patterns to aid assembly. Following extensive excavation and examination of recovered fragments, the team spent 2019 piecing together the largest torso sections.
“In the beginning, when we put all the pieces on the table and looked around, it was difficult to get started. From what way? From what point on?” said Chhan Chamroeun, deputy director for monument protection and conservation at the Ministry of Culture.
A Labor of Love and Expertise
Chhan Chamroeun, who works in conservation for the Ministry of Culture, explains the meticulous restoration process at Angkor Conservation headquarters. In the initial phase, the team used digital scans of the design to create a 3D model. A university in Germany even used it for a study involving an interactive puzzle.
However, the monumental task of physically reassembling the pieces remains largely manual. Bourdonneau acknowledges that technology, including artificial intelligence, simply isn’t advanced enough to assist with reassembly due to the lack of uniformity in how the pieces were broken apart. “I won’t say that perhaps in the longer term it won’t be possible,” he said, “but for now there may be nothing better than the human brain.”
While some pieces remain missing, the basic form is taking shape around an internal scaffolding. This skeleton of a dancing Shiva may be the key to putting him back on his feet, just as he was in the 10th century.
“Because it is broken into so many pieces and is so huge and heavy, the real challenge with this type of restoration is designing the metal structure so that the statue can stand,” Bourdonneau said.
The team aims to complete most of the renovations by early 2025 and eventually hopes to display the statue on Koh Ker in a new pavilion north of the original site. Bourdonneau is committed to keeping the local community connected to the monument and has invited residents to view the progress throughout the restoration.
The story of the dancing Shiva is a poignant reminder of the devastating impact of looting and conflict on cultural heritage. However, it’s also a testament to the enduring human spirit and the unwavering dedication of those working to restore Cambodia’s shattered past. As the fragments slowly come together, so too does a symbol of resilience, cultural pride, and the enduring power of art.
Despite the enormity of the duty, the stone conservators and archaeologists working on the project seem unfazed by what could seem from the surface to be a gruelling process. They see their work, largely invisible to the general public, as part of a bigger mission in Cambodia.
When asked about his response to recently finding an appropriate location for a vital missing item, Chamroeun said he felt happier than if he had received a “box of beer” as a present.
However, amongst his muted responses, one could see his sincere commitment to his work.
“If we only have experience or knowledge that we gain from various fields to revive this object – it is just not enough if we do not need the guts,” he said. “It’s not just about us, this generation, it’s about our country and our next generation.”
