the philosophy of presence

 

NGV - Bushido - Way of the Samurai

 

Bushido: Way of the Samurai

National Gallery of Victoria to November 4

Sadly I won’t view this exhibition as I live too many hundreds of kilometres away. But I’m prompted to share a post about it here after reading a review by Christopher Allen last weekend, in The Australian newspaper. I always enjoy Allen’s reviews; he fleshes out his essays with asides that I’m often not familiar with. I learn much from him.

Japanese art and artisanship is, however, a familiar and deeply loved topic for me, having had the good fortune to spend time studying in Japan and working with extraordinary artisans there. The young Christopher Allen also spent time in Japan, and while I’m not sure whether his understanding of Zen was formed in those early years, it’s a joy to read his wise summation in his review of this exhibition.

To read the entire review please click through to the page at The Australian


 

NGV-Samurai-sword

 

What bows, arrows, swords, calligraphy brushes and teacups have in common … is the philosophy of Zen Buddhism. The word Zen is the Japanese equivalent of the Chinese Chan, in its turn an adaptation of the Sanskrit Dhyana, which means meditation or the meditative state of mind. This variety of Buddhist thought in particular seems to have absorbed much from Taoism, which emphasises stillness, attentiveness and awareness of the life of the natural world, and is the deepest inspiration of classic Chinese painting and calligraphy.

Zen teaches presence above all, inviting us to be in the here and now rather than distracted by memories, anticipations, desires and fears. This state of presence is constantly available to us, yet it is not something that we can want or aspire to, since the very act of desiring separates us from being in the present moment: to look for enlightenment, as a famous Zen saying goes, is like looking for an ox when you are riding on it. We only need to stop wanting and desiring and we will find it.

This philosophy of presence does not require one to live a monastic life; it is rather the spirit one can bring to all aspects of daily life, and for that reason Zen was able to become the spiritual philosophy of the samurai. Its relevance to the art of the bow, for example, was the subject of a book by Eugen HerrigelZen in the Art of Archery, originally published in German in 1948. The secret is in the direction of attention and in the elimination of self-consciousness; the archer must forget himself and think only of the target.

The principle is not hard to understand. You obviously cannot meditate if you are thinking “I am meditating”; the meditation starts when self-consciousness stops. Similarly with almost any craft: a potter, a pianist, a painter or a writer has to forget themselves and be entirely in the act. It is the same with swordsmanship, which superseded archery as the quintessential samurai art of war.

The great swordsman, as Zen writers such as DT Suzuki explain, achieves a state of emptiness, of “no-mind”, which alone permits the rapidity of reaction and the accuracy necessary to preserve one’s life and defeat the opponent. The conscious mind is simply too slow: it would get in the way of action.

Many famous samurai stories are about swordsmanship, two of which are illustrated here: in a triptych of ukiyo-e sheets by Kuniyoshi, the 12-year-old Ushiwaka, a prodigy of the art, overcomes the master warrior-monk Benkei at the Gojo Bridge (1839). And once again in a set of three sheets by Utagawa Yoshitora, Night Attack of Kumasaka (1860), we see the young samurai Yoshitsume single-handedly fighting off a band of brutal thugs.

 

Utagawa YOSHITORA: Kumasaka's night attack on Ushiwaka-maru at the Akasaka Post-station in Mino Province

 

The serenity of his expression and the refinement of his youthful features are contrasted with the grotesque types of the bandits, as he parries an attack from their leader with his fan while beheading one of his henchmen. The ­attackers are in a blind intoxication of rage; ­Yoshitsume is in the stillness of no-mind, so that to him each blow is executed with the slow deliberation of a calligraphy master composing the characters of a poem.

Christopher Allen


Images courtesy of the NGV website.

Top – Upper portion of a suit of Samurai armour.

Middle – Samurai sword

Bottom – Utagawa YOSHITORA
Japanese active 1850s-1880s
Kumasaka’s night attack on Ushiwaka-maru at the
Akasaka Post-station in Mino Province

1860 Edo, Japan
colour woodblock (triptych)


Eugen Herrigel –  Zen in the Art of Archery


a path to stillness and awakening

New at the artisans’ gallery – photographer Dan Dhruva Baumbach

For Dan, art  – and art appreciation – is a path to stillness and awakening.

These days I love to spend my time in nature wandering around with my camera.  I still get very quiet and just respond to the beauty I see in front of me.  Sometimes I’ll take photographs of what I am seeing and sometimes not.

 

Photograph by Dan Dhruva Baumbach

 

What I’m doing in photographs is capturing my experience.  If you look at my photos and are stopped, then I’ve been successful.

People like to talk about spiritual art but I don’t like to make differences.  To me the purpose of any art is to stop you and take you out of yourself.

– Dan Dhruva Baumbach


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Dan Dhruva Baumbach at the artisans’ gallery


related:

let your subject find you

wherever the eye falls is the face of creation


master of stillness

Vale, Jeffrey Smart – Master of Stillness
Born Adelaide South Australia 1921
Died Arezzo Italy June 20 2013

 

Words move, music
moves

Only in time; but that
which is only living

Can only die. Words,
after speech, reach

Into the silence. Only
by the form, the
pattern,

Can words or music
reach

The stillness, as a
Chinese jar still

Moves perpetually in its
stillness.

– T S Eliot, Burnt Norton, Four Quartets

 

JeffreySmart: Labyrinth
Labyrinth – Jeffrey Smart’s last painting

 

If a good painting comes off, it has a stillness,
it has a perfection, and that’s as great as anything
that a musician or a poet can do.
– Jeffrey Smart

 

Jeffrey Smart liked to compare himself to an old carpenter working away at his bench, an image that may seem surprisingly humble to those who knew him as an ebullient, witty and outspoken man. But he understood as well as Proust that the man and the artist are different beings; that the man can be garrulous, hilariously silly and take pleasure in superficial distractions, but the artist operates at another level, descending to a solitary and silent depth where the work of the imagination unfolds.

Those who have been to the house near Arezzo in Tuscany know that the short walk across the courtyard to the studio represented this transition from one world to another, from extroversion to introversion, from banter to concentration. “I have to go and paint a whore by the roadside now,” he observed to me as he took his leave from the conversation to resume his meditative labour.

It must have been this that Jeffrey missed most in the past year or two of reduced mobility, for the vocation of an artist is not one from which you can retire; the work at the easel is life itself.

Smart was a great Australian painter, but he was also an example and role model of how to be a great painter. The first lesson he offers us is the absolute necessity of following one’s instinct for what seems true and important, and not allowing oneself to be drawn by fashion into the vacuous and the derivative. The second is to find a subject substantial enough to sustain one’s interest across time, and to allow for development in depth without mere repetition. And the third is to evolve a working method that allows one to progress towards the realisation of inspiration in concrete form, to turn ideas and intuitions into pictures; and this where we must admire the devoted, stubborn, daily work of the old carpenter at his bench.

– Christopher Allen
National art critic for The Australian, and author of Jeffrey Smart: Unpublished Paintings 1940-2007 (Melbourne, 2008)
Read the full version Christopher Allen’s article, published in The Weekend Australian June 22, 2013 HERE

This page has links that will be of interest to those who would like more info on Jeffrey Smart and his work.


awareness and creativity

Author, poet and potter Colin Drake has generously contributed a new piece of writing – Awareness and Creativity.  Here’s a taste…
 

Colin Drake, wood fired bowl

… awareness is endlessly creative, continually creating everything that arises in the universe, and also continually destructive in that every ‘thing’, which is ephemeral, finally returns back into that.  For all motion arises in stillness, exists in stillness, is known by its comparison with stillness, and eventually subsides back into stillness.  For example, if you walk across a room, before you start there is stillness, as you walk the room is still and you know you are moving relative to this stillness, and when you stop once again there is stillness.  In the same way every ‘thing’ (consciousness in motion) arises in awareness (consciousness at rest), exists in awareness, is known in awareness and subsides back into awareness.  Awareness is still, but is the container of all potential energy which is continually bubbling up into manifestation (physical energy) and then subsiding back into stillness. […]

– Colin Drake

The complete article: awareness and creativity


hearing with the eye

How can we hear with the eye and see with the ear?  We must first set down ‘the pack’ – the ideas, notions and positions that separate us from reality.  We must take off the blinkers that limit our vision, and see for ourselves that originally there are no seams, flaws or gaps between us and the whole phenomenal universe.  The 10,000 things are in reality neither sentient nor insentient; the selfish neither sentient nor insentient.  Because of this, the teachings of the insentient cannot be perceived by the senses.

 

John Daido Loori, Wave Echo

John Daido Loori, Wave Echo

 

Many people think the teachings of the insentient are similar if not equivalent to the teachings we receive from sentient beings.  But hearing the teachings of the insentient is not a matter of ordinary consciousness.  How then can they be heard?  When body and mind have fallen away, in the stillness that follows, the teachings are intimately manifested in great profusion.  Whether we are aware of it or not, they are always taking place.  The teachings of the insentient are about intimacy, not words.

– John Daido Loori


Text and image copyright ©  John Daido Loori
 


Hearing with the Eye
John Daido Loori


john daido loori at the artisans’ gallery

let your subject find you