Before there were even cities, human beings have set aside special areas considered to be sacred, within which religious ceremonies could take place. In fact, the earliest of these, Göbekli Tepe in what is now Turkey, may have been the very driving force which encouraged our ancestors to settle down, begin farming, and create established sedentary villages. The concept of religious space, then, is almost as old as the concept of society itself. Things which happen within the sacred space are somehow different from the things that happen outside it. This concept has never left us. Think, for example, of the Christian concept of sanctuary, where someone on sacred ground came under the protection of the Church. Given the importance of sacred space, it is no wonder that people of all religions have gone to great lengths in order to demarcate it. Temples have, historically, often been walled, or on platforms, or otherwise set apart in less accessible locations. And outside nearly every religious institution before the Abrahamic religions – and, indeed, even in some rural churches in Britain and Ireland to this day – were guardian figures of some sort. These figures, petrified images of gods, saints, heroes or demons, were supposed to ensure that the negative energies of the outside world were left at the temple door. In both Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism, these guardians are known as dvarapala, literally ‘gate guardians’.

Dvarapala were taken up with special enthusiasm away from the Indian heartland to the places where Hinduism and Buddhism spread. The builders of temple institutions away from the sacred land fed by the Ganges were at pains to present themselves as not only good Hindus or Buddhists, but as better Hindus and Buddhists than even the Indians themselves. The size of dvarapala-figures, and the grotesqueness with which they were presented, was almost competitively expressed in places like Java, Thailand, and Cambodia. This dvarapala originated in Cambodia, and is associated with the style of the temple at Banteay Srei. Dedicated to the gods Shiva and Parvati, Banteay Srei is notable as the only temple of the Khmer Empire not to have been founded by its powerful monarchs, but by (relatively) ordinary courtiers, named Vishnukumara and Yajnavaraha, on a virgin site between the mediaeval capitals of Yasodharapura and Angkor Thom in the Spring of AD 967. Built entirely of red sandstone, the most abundant building stone available to the Khmer, the temple is replete with elaborate wall carvings. Perhaps reflecting its more humble origins, Banteay Srei is smaller than comparable royal foundations like Angkor Wat, the largest religious building in the world. Nonetheless, Banteay Srei is perfectly formed, and contains in miniature all of the features expected of a Khmer Temple. Especially notable are the number of portal guardians which flank the avenues leading to the temple, through the dense jungle.

These temple guardians take a bewildering variety of monstrous forms, many of them derived from the animist beliefs of the Cambodians before the introduction of Hinduism. This particukar figure is of a type of lion-headed guardian figure which is nearly unique to Banteay Srei, and may, therefore, represent a particular local demon. He is usually depicted kneeling, with one knee up, his arm resting on it in a powerful style, his human features stocky and muscular, while his kilt (sampot seng) is taught across his waist. His head is a great grimacing lion, produced in the traditional Cambodian style, with a short closely-cropped mane, wild round eyes which are made all the more frightening by the hypnotic concentric circles which decorate them. While most of the human torso of this particular lion-headed figure is sadly missing, the remains show a well-built, stocky figure, befitting a guardian. The angle of his shoulders dropping to the side seems to indicate his powerful pose, and his large pectorals similarly give a glimpse of his originally immense stature. The join of his leonine neck to his humanoid torso is hidden by a small necklace, which bears a resemblance to the highly decorated sarong kor bejewelled collar worn by temple dancers. The facial features are wild and disconcerting, with the eyes wide and unblinking, the teeth bared, the nostrils flaring, and the eyebrows raised. Yet there is a kind of gentleness which is also evident; he growls, but also seems to smile from certain angles. This may reflect the multipurpose nature of such guardians: to scare away the bad, but to welcome the good.

The remarkable complexity of the sculpture from Banteay Srei is evident in the marvellous locks of his mane, which, though closely cropped to his head, nonetheless frames his head impressively. The short upright fringe is contrasted with the elaborate semi-foliate tendrils of his mane which fall behind each ear, and provide some delicate visual bulk to frame his frightening visage. The features of this remarkable sculpture are exceptionally well-executed, and are comparable to the very best sculpture from the temple at Banteay Srei. A particularly close comparable can be found in Cambodia’s National Angkor Wat Museum (no. 786). These figures, which would have lined one of the sixty metre causeways leading up to the temple itself, would have both guided and welcomed visitors, and been a gruff, aggressive reminder that the sacred space of the temple was inviolable, both by humans and spirits.

References: examples of lion-headed Banteay Srei dvarapala can be found in Siem Riep (National Angkor Wat Museum 786), Phnom Penh (National Museum of Cambodia Ka.786).