Dawa Drolma (ཟླ་བ་སྒྲོལ་མ) is the co-founder of Khyenle Arts Center, where lima bronze statues are still produced according to traditional methods, and where every product carries a centuries-long heritage. The name itself holds history: Khyenle(མཁྱེན་ལི) derives from Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo Rinpoche (1820-1892), founder of the Rimé movement and the first incarnation of Dzongsar Khyentse. He refined an existing bronze-casting technique and established a new alloy composition, initiating the bronze style known as Khyenle. The name of the Arts Center is a tribute to this lineage, which continues through Dawa’s family. Indeed, through five generations of transmission from Khyenle Rinpoche, the master Tashi Dorji eventually passed this knowledge to Nyi Ma, Dawa’s father, who then taught his son Dawa Dakpa, now one of the key figures of Khyenle Arts Center.
So, belonging to a seventh-generation family of metalsmiths, Dawa Drolma grew up surrounded by artisans. Naturally, art and craftsmanship found their way into her life: not through hands, but mind. Even though she did not feel especially skilled at making objects herself, from an early age she discovered that she had the ability to connect with artisans and understand their work. This attitude accompanied her throughout a long and inspiring journey.
She began school at 10 years old, attending primary and middle school in Dege. After years of dedication and preparation, she was admitted to the selective ETP program in Xining (Qinghai), where she spent two years mastering the English language and studying English-taught subjects. Soon after, she became a researcher in a world oral literature project, a role she held for three years. This experience led to the publication of her first book, Silence in the Valley of Songs, a work in which the working songs of nomads and farmers were collected and explained, revealing their deep cultural meaning.
During those years she worked with determination toward another goal: studying business in the United States. In 2012 she was accepted and received offers from three different American universities. She eventually chose Bay Path University, where she completed a bachelor’s degree in Business with a double major in Marketing and Small Businesses Development.
Alongside acquiring the skills needed to become an entrepreneur, she also gave space to her creative mind. During this time, she produced her first film about the making of clay statues, Dzongsar Clay, winning the First Award, by International Crafts Film Contest for International Students in 2012 and the Best Undergraduate Film by Society of Visual Anthropology in 2015. It was the first recognition in what would later become a long list of films and documentaries acknowledged for their cultural value.
This educational path strengthened her conviction that her mind could contribute to the heritage of her family and, more broadly, to the entire community of Menshod. Indeed, despite the opening of China and the artisan renaissance that began in the 1980s, the challenges of an increasingly industrialized world were beginning to affect the local market of Menshod. All of a sudden, the handmade world of artisans found itself overwhelmed by a commodified economy, where objects produced by machines seemed able to replace handmade ones; faster, cheaper, in larger quantities, and, apparently, without flaws.
Even before leaving, she had witnessed her own family, like many other artisans, struggling under this pressure. Competing with machine-made products often seemed impossible. Gradually, a sense of discouragement spread among the artisans of Menshod. The subtle but growing feeling that “there is no market for us anymore” began to take root. When asked about the future, the children of these artisans rarely answered, “I want to be like my father”. Continuing this long-standing heritage no longer seemed a viable path.
Yet Dawa believed otherwise. Through her studies and experiences, she strengthened the idea that a market for handmade crafts still existed: a niche market, perhaps, but one with real potential. There were still people in the world capable of appreciating the unique skills of the Valley. What Menshod needed was connection with the outside world.
In building this confidence, an important role was played by Karpu (སྐལ་བུ།), director of the Dzongsar Tibetan Hospital, who has long been (and still is) a fundamental pillar of the community. At that time, Karpu was the mind behind Ziwu, a brand that introduced innovation and new perspectives to the artisans of the area.
Dawa returned home in 2017, and from that moment her life entered a period of full-time work. “I can change the world” was the attitude she carried when she came back. Yet that enthusiasm soon had to meet reality: the challenging task of finding a balance between tradition and innovation, and the responsibility of taking care of the family’s center, which was not in the best condition. Despite the hardships, however, her father, Nyi Ma, remained deeply committed to handmade craftsmanship. Stubborn in the best sense of the word, he refused numerous offers from factories. No matter the difficulties, he could not abandon the craft. For him, this art carried a meaning far beyond economic profit.
Work needed to be done, and it was done: within a few years, Khyenle Arts Center flourished again. This flourishing did not simply mean returning to economic stability. Rather, it meant becoming once again a cornestone of the community. This transformation also meant confronting the sentiment that had slowly spread among artisans: the feeling that “the world does not need us anymore”. As the work of the artisans began to be valued again, this perception gradually faded. When their creations started to be appreciated, when they received a fair income from their work, and when admiration arrived from visitors and collectors from around the world, confidence returned. It became clear that the human touch still holds value, an extremely high value. The change soon became visible even among the younger generations: today, children say that they want to become artisans.
This empowerment of artisans was made possible largely thanks to Dawa’s approach. Her perspective has always been concrete and grounded, attentive to the real needs of people. As she says: “it is not fair to talk about the duty of continuing tradition without speaking about the food on the table”. Preserving tradition is invaluable and a shared responsibility, but people must also sustain themselves. Finding a balance between this duty and the necessity of a stable livelihood was a difficult challenge, but it proved to be the key.
Today, Khyenle Arts Center counts 39 artisans. It offers apprenticeships to those who genuinely wish to learn, operates a guesthouse, and has become a cultural hub where innovation blends with tradition and the local connects with the global. The center hosts artist residencies and exchanges: Khyenle artisans travel abroad to present their work, such as at the Smithsonian Museum, and at the London Craft Week, while international students and artists come here to learn about lima bronze casting.
In particular, in China and internationally, the center is recognized as the only place in the world where lima bronze statues are produced entirely in one location, from the first step to the final stage. The reason for this uniqueness is clear: the determination of Dawa’s family to remain faithful to tradition and to act as its guardians. It is a path that requires choosing the hard way. Here, that hard way is represented by a complex process of more than ten stages required to create a single statue, carried out along with the strict respect for the requirements from the statue maker.
The process of making a statue begins with an image provided by the customer, often a thangka or another visual reference that defines the iconography of the figure. From this image, the artisan first creates a clay model. At this stage, different types of clay can be used, as the material mainly serves to shape the form and proportions of the statue.
Once the clay model is complete, a mold is built around it through multiple layers: silicone inlayer mold to capture the finest details, while outer layers are reinforced with plaster to stabilize the structure. When the mold is finished, the clay statue is removed, leaving a negative form that will guide the next stage.
The mold is then used to create a wax version of the statue that is refined through a delicate process, where artisans correct small imperfections and sharpen the details.
Once the wax figure is ready, a protective layers of sand and mud mold is built around it. The piece is placed inside a kiln, where the heat hardens the outer shell while melting the wax inside. The wax flows out through prepared channels, leaving an empty cavity in the exact shape of the statue. This is the famous lost-wax method.
This stage is particularly fragile. According to Dawa, the transformation from wax to bronze succeeds only about 20% of the time. For this reason, artisans often prepare several wax versions of the same statue design. Because the wax melts during firing, the mold must be made from fire-resistant materials capable of withstanding extremely high temperatures. At this stage, the piece is carefully inspected. If the result is not satisfactory, the metal is melted down and reused.
Interestingly, when video about the process and frames of melted statues are shared online, some people react negatively, believing that destroying a sacred figure is inappropriate. But in the workshop the reasoning is different: if a statue representing a divine figure is not crafted properly, remelting it is considered an act of respect rather than disrespect. The statue must be as perfect as possible.
The casting itself begins by reheating the mold to prevent thermal shock. It is then placed in sand while molten bronze is poured through channels into the empty cavity. After the metal cools and solidifies, the outer shell is broken away with hammers or sandblasting. What emerges is the rough bronze statue, still attached to the metal channels created during casting.
What follows is the long and meticulous stage known as metal chasing. The statue is heated again and worked with a wide range of specialized tools, sometimes more than 200 for a single piece. The surface is first smoothed, then carefully engraved to refine every detail. The lima bronze of which statues are made is also extremely difficult to work with: once cast, its details cannot easily be corrected. Because of its importance, statues made of lima bronze are especially valued. Dawa explains that in the Potala Palace there is even a room dedicated entirely to statues made with this alloy called Lima Lhakang, meaning “the temple of lima statues”. In earlier times, when correcting flaws was even harder and flawed statues cannot be re-done, small imperfections were sometimes accepted as part of the work and holes, where called the “gates of the Lama” (lisgo).
Statue making remains a fragile craft. Mistakes are common and mastering the entire production cycle requires at least ten years of experience. With such a low success rate, uncertainty and failure are simply part of the work. Yet the making of a statue is not defined only by technique. It also depends on the discipline and conduct of the artist. In this tradition, the quality of a statue is believed to be closely connected to the ethical and spiritual integrity of the person who creates it.
For this reason, statue makers follow a set of rules: no drinking and smoking, and refrain from hunting, fighting, gambling, or harming the environment. Students in the workshop follow the same principles. Moreover, certain empowerment rituals are also required before working on some of the statues.These practices reflect an essential understanding: the statues are not merely objects of art, but are objects for meditation. For many artisans, therefore, statue making is not simply a way to earn a living: it is a form of Buddhist practice.
A story about Dawa’s father clearly illustrates this mindset. He had once been commissioned to create six statues of Guru Rinpoche, a project scheduled to take six months. Yet when the statues were almost finished (only a month before the deadline), he decided to begin the entire process again. From the client’s perspective, the priority was clear: deliver the work on time. For him, however, the priority was the quality of the statue. As he explained, the statues will remain long after the artist is gone: one day he will die, but the statues will continue to exist for generations. Because of this permanence, the statue carries a value greater than the artist himself. It must be as close to perfection as possible.
In this sense, the responsibility to the work can outweigh the obligation to a deadline. According to Dawa, it is precisely this uncompromising commitment that makes her father such a remarkable artist. “My duty”, she says, “is to protect my father’s freedom to be an artist”. That is another reason why she took the role of business manager: protect the cultural heritage through protecting artists’ rhythms, discipline, and rituals that guide their work.
At the same time, her perspective along with her brother’s, Dawa Dakpa, creativity, helped introduce innovation into the center, creating new products while remaining rooted in tradition. One example is the jewelry collection: these pieces follow the same casting process used for statues, though with a higher success rate, around 50-60 %. For jewelry, this particular bronze alloy is especially valued because it does not release color onto the skin when worn. This line responded both to market demand and to the needs of artisan training. For many young apprentices, becoming a statue maker takes years; jewelry making offers a way to practice the techniques before approaching sacred statues. At the same time, these pieces allow Buddhist philosophy, the source of inspiration for many designs, to reach a broader audience.
For Dawa, innovation is not separate from tradition; it is the tradition of the future. Culture, after all, is a living process. “We want to define ourselves”, she says firmly. Indeed, Tibetan culture should be made and narrated by Tibetans. When people buy a product from the center, they are not simply buying an object: they are encountering the people behind it, the legacy, the philosophy, and the continuation of a living culture.
Looking ahead, the products will continue to evolve naturally, always in dialogue with tradition. New future jewelry lines may include traditional Tibetan stones, while experimentation is also taking place within the statue-making workshop itself. One recent work in progress, for example, depicts the legendary snow leopard curled up on a rocky mountain surrounded with cans: a symbolic piece intended to raise awareness about environmental protection. In the area, once remote and untouched, waste management is already becoming an issue on the present, and it may become even more urgent in the future. As Dawa explains, the environment is not something separate from us: we are part of it.
More broadly, there is also concern for the future of the fragile ecosystem of Menshod. Until now, the community has been fortunate to preserve traditional making processes, but change can arrive suddenly. One of the greatest fears is that a place might become “viral”, attracting rapid commercialization and mass tourism. In such situations, handcrafted workshops can quickly be replaced by souvenir shops selling mass-produced objects. When that happens, skills disappear, and intangible heritage can be lost in a very short time. No one knows whether this will happen or not, but being prepared is essential. The new generation must have the tools to understand the value of their own culture and to preserve it. In this sense, the energy of younger artisans does not replace tradition: it complements and protects it. This is why Dawa’s attention and care extend beyond her own center to the entire community.
As she had hoped from the beginning, through her work, she has become a pillar not only for Khyenle Arts Center but for Menshod as a whole. She organizes workshops and training sessions on business planning, logo design, marketing strategies, and culture-based product development. She has brought groups of artisans on study tours to different cities in China, visiting museums, antique collections, and contemporary art exhibitions, and discussing together what the concept of art can mean today.
She has also led several community initiatives aimed at strengthening collaboration among artisans. Since 2025, a collective project has brought different artisans’ centers together to produce a single piece each year. In 2026, the product was designed entirely by female-led centers: an initiative that included paper making (Paper Making Center), calligraphy (Yang Lek Shey), pottery (Oldhouse Pottery Center), incense (Yang Lek Shey), lima bronze casting (Khyenle Arts Center), and weaving (Nayo Tsang Weaving Center), together with the collaboration of the Cantonese designer Li Lijun. For Dawa, this project was a powerful sign of women’s empowerment in Menshod: not because gender needed to be emphasized, but because the collaboration itself felt natural and equal.
Another important recent project has been the creation of the Map of Artisan Centers in Menshod (Maisu), the result of years of work. The map lists thirty-three cultural centers across the village and highlights important places such as the hospital, sacred sites, pharmacies, scenic areas, and different types of roads. It is a practical tool for visitors, but also a way for residents themselves to recognize the richness of their own community.
The map expresses a clear vision: protecting together the philosophy of Menshod. What makes this place valuable is not only the number of artisans or the diversity of crafts, but the fact that it is a real community; an ecosystem where culture, craftsmanship, and everyday life exist in harmony.
In the end, the most precious element is not a specific craft or a specialized skill, but the solidarity among people working together. In Dawa’s word, “One person’s influence is very small, but a community working together is powerful”.
Despite the uncertainties of the future, Dawa continues this work with determination. Like the casting of a lima bronze statue, the final result is never guaranteed. The process is fragile, mistakes are frequent, and success is never certain. Yet the only possible path is to keep working with patience, compassion, and a sincere heart, trusting that what is shaped with care today may outlive us and speak to generations to come.
