LHAKPA
"Transformation happens not only in the studio"
Each time when I lead a retreat in Bhutan I include the School of the 13 arts in Thimphu. In 2013, after already leading retreats in Bhutan for several years, I visited the School of the 13 Arts in Thimphu, the traditional Zorig Chusum, where Bhutan’s sacred crafts are preserved and transmitted with devotion and precision.
It was there, in the thangka painting class, that I first noticed Lhakpa. He was in his third year of the rigorous six-year training. Even then, his patience, discipline, and quiet focus revealed a rare gift.
Thangka painting is exacting work, sacred geometry, iconography, mineral pigments, proportion, lineage. Year after year, I observed his growth. In his fifth year, I invited him to collaborate on my Oracle project once he completed his studies.
After graduating, he apprenticed with a master teacher and began painting for the Je Khenpo. Alongside this traditional path, he started working with me. This collaboration required courage. A classically trained thangka painter works within inherited structure and strict proportion. I was asking him to step into contemporary interpretation, to translate themes and emotions into freer artistic expression.
At times, I felt it was like inviting a classical musician to join a jazz ensemble.
The Oracle project unfolded over many years. Life intervened. When his master died unexpectedly, Lhakpa disappeared for nearly two years. No one knew where he had gone. His contact no longer worked.
As the cards were nearing completion in the Year of the Dragon, I quietly began asking about him and posted through the VAST network. Almost miraculously, a new number reached me.
He had returned.
When we met again, I learned he had been working for the government. Seeing him in work clothes, I momentarily thought he had joined a construction crew, only to discover he was painting for the Fourth King. He proudly showed me his work.
Many of the paintings he creates for official commissions remain unsigned. They serve the Kingdom, the lineage, the sacred spaces, but his name is not attached to them. This is part of tradition. The work belongs to something greater than the individual.
And yet, alongside that devotion, I felt it was important that he also be seen, not only as a hand within tradition, but as an artist with his own voice.
Becoming independent does not mean abandoning lineage. It means allowing one’s personal expression to stand beside it.
He re-entered my life at precisely the right moment, in the year of the Dragon. Together, we completed the final stages of the Oracle, and he designed the beautiful box that now holds the cards.
A Turning Point
When I was invited to present the Dragon’s Gift at the Druk Yul Literature and Arts Festival, I asked Lhakpa to join me on stage.
It was his first time stepping into a public space beyond the traditional role of a commissioned painter. He was nervous, yet he stood there, speaking about the creative journey behind the cards, facing the audience as an artist in his own right.
Later, he sent me a message that touched me deeply. He wrote that standing on stage and facing everyone was one of the biggest achievements of his life. He had felt nervous and unsure, but the experience gave him courage and confidence.
That evening became another turning point.
Sharing the stage rekindled something within him. Being seen, not only as a traditional thangka painter, but as an independent creative voice, awakened a new spark. The desire to branch out and develop his own artistic language began to grow stronger.
Sometimes transformation does not happen in the studio.
It happens when someone feels seen.
Galloping Through the Elements
In honor of the King’s anniversary, Lhakpa unveiled a new painting, Galloping Through the Elements, at the Lungta exhibition hosted by VAST, a work filled with movement, strength, and elemental force.
In honor of the King’s anniversary, Lhakpa unveiled a new painting, Galloping Through the Elements, at the Lungta exhibition hosted by VAST, a work filled with movement, strength, and elemental force.
There are moments in an artist’s life that do not appear dramatic from the outside, yet they mark a quiet threshold.
Friday, February 13th, was one of those moments.
He continues to paint official commissions, many of them unseen and unsigned, while his personal body of work is steadily emerging.
Slowly, surely, he is stepping into his own name.
I truly believe Lhakpa stands at the threshold of a larger artistic presence, one that bridges Bhutan’s sacred tradition with contemporary expression.
I am standing beside him as he steps into that future.
During our journeys, you will have the opportunity to meet Lhakpa and witness the quiet strength of a masterful thangka painter finding his own voice.
