Making the Buddha Head from Merv Whole Again

I first saw the large head of a Buddha, resting on an earthen pedestal, in historic black-and-white photographs in 2020.

The images were taken some 60 years ago, when the head had just been discovered during excavations by the South Turkmenistan Archaeological Inter-disciplinary Expedition (YuTAKE) of the Academy of Sciences of the Turkmen Soviet Socialist Republic in the ancient oasis town of Merv. Located in the Karakum Desert of Turkmenistan, the Silk Road city had been occupied since the third millennium BCE and served as a vibrant urban center of enormous wealth (it’s said to have counted one million inhabitants in the 12th century).

Sculpted originally from unfired clay around a skeletal framework of wood, straw, and rope, the head once belonged to a much larger sculpture—likely a seated Buddha. This construction method was not merely technical but imbued with ritual meaning, conceived to endow the divine image with body and life.

That figure is lost today, and the head appears to have been separated in antiquity, but what exactly happened remains unknown. It was unearthed in the stupa of a Buddhist monastery within the Gyaur Kala at Merv, an ancient fortress known as the “castle of infidels” because its inhabitants adhered to different faiths—Zoroastrian, Christian, Jewish, and Buddhist—at the time of the Arab conquest. Dated to the fifth–sixth century CE, this Buddha is the westernmost example of its kind and is crucial for understanding Buddhism’s spread.

Measuring nearly 35½ inches (90 cm) in height, the head dwarfed the archaeologists in the excavation photographs. Little is known about its modern history. It survived almost intact, although with damage on the proper left front and side. The unfired clay made it heavy yet fragile, and moving it would have been difficult. Other images show that decades ago it was cut into four major sections.

The head’s elegantly curved brow and heavy, lidded eye caught my attention five years ago, when the Getty Museum was invited to collaborate with the State Museum of Turkmenistan on the object’s conservation. I recognized both the challenge and promise of this unusual task, as well as the privilege of being invited to build a partnership with Turkmenistan. As the principal investigator, I was responsible for shaping the project’s narrative, defining its technical scope, and developing its timeline and budget. In 2021, Getty was awarded the 30th U.S. Ambassadors Fund for Cultural Preservation grant, supported by the U.S. Embassy in Turkmenistan—an affirmation of the venture’s significance and potential to strengthen cultural ties.

Examination and cleaning begin

Fast forward to the beginning of our project. We formed a team with conservators Fabio Colombo from Rome, Elisa Pannunzio from Venice, and Giuseppe Salemi from Padua University—a specialist in 3D technology and heritage preservation. All brought deep experience in the preservation of Buddhist sculpture in Central and South Asia. So far, we have completed five missions in Ashgabat and expect three more to finalize the conservation. Work also continues remotely.

When we first examined the four surviving head fragments in Ashgabat, only thin outer shells of painted clay remained—like remnants of a giant egg.

The interior matrix had been removed and partially replaced with unsuitable modern materials, such as resin coatings, gauze, and foamed synthetic polymers. The process started with careful examination, documentation, archival research, and discussion with museum staff, scholars, and international colleagues. The head sections were recorded using photogrammetry (with high- and very high–resolution sensors and structured light scanning), allowing 3D visualization and the creation of mathematically accurate models.

After surveying the external surfaces, we digitally modeled their shape (below left) to create 3D- printed shells (below right) that would lend support during treatment.

The conservation intervention began with the meticulous reversal of inappropriate materials applied during earlier restoration campaigns, and we carefully removed the old repairs mechanically from the interior of the head sections. Carried out over several weeks, this proved to be particularly difficult due to the fragility of the inner surfaces and the tenacity of the aged compounds.

Next, the inner surfaces were cleaned, consolidated, and lined with modern stable materials for support.

Then, the sections could be flipped, and work on the front surfaces began. Among the most delicate operations was the detachment of multiple gauze layers adhered previously with starch paste and intended as temporary protection. Carefully lifting the overlapping gauze patches gradually exposed the original surface, revealing for the first time the flesh tones and the vivid blue eye of the largest fragment of the face, previously entirely concealed.

The surface and edges of the sections remain soft and brittle, requiring thorough cleaning, consolidation, and the application of suitable backing supports. Notably, the earlier repair had failed to adequately reinforce the thin edges of the sections, which are now warped and deformed, complicating the reassembly of the four main components.

Unifying the head

In our ongoing project, Giuseppe continues to develop 3D models based on the data he has been acquiring.

Slowly we have been developing a concept for unifying the main four parts into the fully sculpted head. The work involves again utilizing 3D-printed supports for the individual sections, this time to line their interiors for structural stability, and building a larger structure on which the head fragments will be reunited.

A major challenge will be the final 3D reconstruction and loss compensation to create a modern interpretation of the head and prepare it for display at the museum.

We also have begun to study the material history of the head, how it was made, how it changed over ancient and modern times, and how it relates to other Buddhist images in the larger region. The face bears layers of red and yellow pigments, with a large blue eye. Multiple color patches suggest ancient repairs and repainting, a common practice, while the molded blue curls of hair appear not to have been retouched. Tiny paint samples analyzed by the Getty Conservation Institute have revealed the multilayered paint and pigment composition. Our goal is to compare our results to other clay sculptures of the era and cultural milieu.

This project extends far beyond its technical scope. Supported by the U.S. Embassy in Turkmenistan and the State Museum of Turkmenistan, it fosters cultural diplomacy and opens avenues for future collaborations. Traveling to archaeological sites—including Merv and the place where the Buddha’s head once lay buried—gave us a vivid sense of context. Encountering even a fragment of Central Asia’s immensity stirred my imagination: millennia of cultural exchange, shifting borders, and layered histories suddenly felt present and alive. Working on the ground, immersed in local rhythms and hospitality, allowed us not only to understand the culture more deeply but also to form the kinds of personal relationships that make this work meaningful.

The result of our efforts will open the door to a new narrative within the museum’s galleries—one that weaves together religion, technical study, conservation methods, and public engagement. Although the original Buddha figure will never be whole again, its restored head will stand as an emblem of Turkmenistan’s heritage and of the role that technology can play in safeguarding the past. When we first arrived, we had no clear sense of what we would find. Yet as the sculpture slowly regains its form, our delight has grown in equal measure. Contributing to its resurrection has been professionally rewarding, yet also demanding, and deeply joyful—an experience made all the richer by sharing it with our colleagues in Ashgabat.