Inside Asian Art Week: Christie’s experts preview highlights from Japan, China and India

‘These ceramics come from the Thomas R. Vaughan collection. They were made between 1723–1735 during the Yongzheng period, and each bears the rare Yongzheng yuzhi mark on the base, indicating the highest level of imperial patronage. Ceramics from this time are of exceptionally fine quality, and because the emperor’s reign was brief, they’re also very scare. The enamels are exceptional — the painting, the shading, the application — simply superb. You don’t get better than this in Chinese ceramics. They epitomise the best of the best, and every time I sit with them, I’m amazed.

‘Among the group, one is ruby-ground and the other two are coral-ground, each with a reddish-orange base and decorated with flowers. All are extremely rare. For the ruby-ground cup, only two other examples are known. Made from colloidal gold, a technique first made popular in this period, it’s my favourite: simple in design, small, and wonderfully tactile. You can admire it on a shelf, but its scale invites more intimate reflection — held closely in both hands, you notice the fine shading of the flowers and the delicate potting of the porcelain. It offers both visual and tactile pleasures, which is really special. After 15 years of handling hundreds of enamelled cups, these are the ones I’ll never forget.’

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‘Gaitonde is often regarded as India’s purest and most highly respected abstract artist — though he preferred to call himself a non-objective painter. What’s remarkable about his work is the balance between rigour and accessibility. His method was deeply informed by art history. Drawing on Indian miniature painting traditions, exposure to Abstract Expressionism and his own experiments with rollers, palette knives and paper transfers, he developed the distinctive forms on his canvases. Yet the experience of his paintings is entirely subjective and personal. The difference between seeing a reproduction and encountering the painting in person is remarkable.

He was a fascinating, mercurial, almost nomadic figure — far less prolific than his peers in the Progressive Artists’ Group, producing around five canvases a year. His practice was labour-intensive and largely cerebral: conceptualising and distilling ideas. By the 1980s his style was fully mature, but in 1984 he suffered a serious road accident that left him physically impaired. Given the demands of his process, he could no longer work on a large scale. But he never compromised on the quality of his paintings. After the accident, he produced fewer still, often working on paper. So, a canvas from this period is tremendously rare. The fiery palette of reds, oranges and yellows makes it especially exciting — a statement of resilience, an energetic, optimistic work that rises out of adversity. For me, that makes it particularly powerful.’

‘At Christie’s we handle many Hokusai prints, but his paintings are far rarer — and depictions of beauties are especially uncommon. In more than 20 years of handling Japanese art, I’ve only encountered one other. This example is strikingly different: more colourful, more detailed, and a truly exceptional work.

‘Hokusai is, of course, one of the most famous Japanese artists — best known for The Great Wave and his landscapes — but this painting reveals another, rarely seen side of his artistry. When I first saw it, it felt almost too good to be true; I had never come across a beauty painting in this style before. Further research, however, confirmed that its characteristics are entirely consistent with his work from this period. With only a single publication record from 1944, the painting is essentially a rediscovery. For such a work to reappear today is extraordinarily rare, and very few museums possess comparable examples.’

‘These chairs are the reason I love Chinese furniture. The Ming period was known for its elegant and cultivated lifestyle — and these are the ultimate example of that refinement. From their graceful silhouette to the carving and the jewel-like inlay on the splat, they have everything you would hope to see in a pair of Ming chairs. In Chinese furniture, the taller the chair, the more elevated the sitter. To find a pair with such proportion, height and shape is already incredibly rare, and the inlay makes them even more desirable.

‘They bring together so many aspects of the art form at the highest level. It is not only about design, but also construction and the careful selection of materials — everything working in harmony to create a true masterpiece of the decorative arts. We believe this pair may have belonged to a set of eight representing the four seasons — these, with their bird-and-flower inlay, reference spring. They have a timeless, enduring quality. Though constructed in the 16th–17th century, they could just as easily fit in a modern home. That lasting elegance allows us to experience a vision of the Ming lifestyle that has long since disappeared, yet still speaks powerfully through pieces like these.’

‘This year marks the centenary of Tyeb Mehta, born 26 July 1925, so we’re especially privileged to be offering his 1994 painting, Trussed Bull. Mehta wasn’t a prolific painter — a work would never leave his studio unless he was completely satisfied — which makes the appearance of any painting by him a rare opportunity for us and for collectors. Trussed Bull was acquired by an important corporate collection the year after it was created and has remained there ever since — unseen on the market and known only through a reproduction in the artist’s monograph. For us to be able to present it now, at a moment of renewed interest in his work, is an honour.

‘The trussed bull is one of Mehta’s most powerful and enduring subjects. First conceived in the 1950s after he encountered an Egyptian bas relief at the British Museum, it became a touchstone he revisited across painting, sculpture, printmaking and even film. The bull — virile yet helpless — embodied both universal human suffering and Mehta’s own experience of violence during Partition. It is a symbol that stayed with him throughout his career, and one that continued to define his vision nearly four decades later.’

‘Rabindranath Tagore’s The Tame Bird Was in a Cage is a masterful poetic allegory, rich in symbolism that explores themes of freedom, love, loss, fear, and the tragedy of human limitation. Through simple imagery of birds and cages, forests and songs, Tagore captures the emotional and spiritual chasm that can exist between beings — even those bound by love. The poem reminds us that for true connection to happen, there must be not only affection, but also an alignment of freedom, understanding, and courage. It is fitting that this work is being offered by Dr Pratapaditya Pal, who held it with great pride as a fellow Bengali. It is the key lot in The Last Dance of the Peacock: Selections from the Pal Family Collection.’

‘We always say ceramics are meant to be handled — which can be a little jarring for those who aren’t used to it. But when you hold a piece of porcelain, you feel the weight, see how the glaze catches the light, and begin to understand so much about it. This dish, just under eight inches in diameter, is the perfect size to behold in your hand.

‘It is so delicately potted, with a beautifully foliated edge that is wonderfully elegant. The glaze is known as tianbai, or “sweet white” — a lustrous, clear white that emulates jade. In person it appears soft and luminous. Beneath the surface lies anhua, or “secret” decoration, a technique that uses faintly impressed or incised designs that is almost invisible from a distance. When you look closely, grapevines emerge — drawn organically with a natural sense of movement. Unlike an artwork that hangs on the wall, it begs to be turned, studied, and experienced physically.

‘The dish is incredibly rare and dates to the Ming dynasty, during the reign of the Yongle Emperor — a golden age for ceramics. Deeply devoted to Tibetan Buddhism, the emperor’s beliefs shaped both the aesthetics and the function of porcelain, much of it made for ritual use. White symbolised purity, and the tianbai glaze perfected under his rule epitomised that spiritual aspiration.’