Rob has managed to earn a living in photography as a 'professional' while Eddy has the interest of an 'amateur'. They frequently discuss their shared involvement in this activity.
How extraordinary! How extraordinary!
The insentient express the way! How mysterious!
If you listen with the ears it is incomprehensible
If you hear sounds with the eyes it is truly knowledgeable.
Dongshan
By Way of Introduction
A feature of what is loosely known as Zen art is the image (Zenga) that offers in an inherent calming and contemplative manner an expression of the truth of the universe. Typically following the Japanese painting tradition of a few brief brushstrokes an image tends to be one which captures the essence of nature and in doing so of reality itself. This is very easily translated into photographs where the image of just one moment is presented as the simple picture of the plant or a cloud or a stream flowing through the dappled light of a wood.
Additionally in the traditionally artistic presentation for communicating the ineffable the artist/teacher would offer a few words alongside the image (San) which can be used as a way of deepening the experience of hearing 'sounds with the eyes' and similarly this method has been applied to photography. Here is an example of this approach presented by Eddy:
Neglecting to wonder
sheep
feed in the snow
Of course photography can be used in other ways to 'capture the moment' and not just in a quiet reflective calming context. As Chan practitioners we are interested in the ways in which the process of taking a photograph and contemplating the image is itself practice and in doing this we have been interested in those images which we have captured which express aspects of life other than the calm abiding quality of objects in nature. We have become interested in pictures which capture the active and involved elements of life. We wish to present below two images one taken by each of us. What we present is the thoughts of the photographer and the reflected process of the other person about each image. We hope this inspires others to take photographs and look at them with their ears.
Woman on Bridge
Eddy: Out on one of my photos safaris; just go somewhere, walk around taking photographs of what takes my interest. I walked to Treorchy from Trehebert on a grey wet day. I'm ready to have something for my lunch. As I'm walking over a railway bridge I see a discarded loaf of sliced bread lying in the gutter. It's open and the slices are lying there slowly soaking up the dirty water from the rain. I become interested in the discarded food and the people walking past it. I take photographs as people approach, some looking at the bread some oblivious of the wastefulness. I cross over the road to look at the scene from the other side and I become interested in the people walking across the bridge. I take images of people as they enter the frame and then I wonder if I should capture somebody as they leave the frame. A woman walks by and quickly I take a photograph and instantly forget it as my attention is drawn to something else.
At home, I am surprised by the image. The blurred nature of the way the woman is walking across the bridge. The way her body mirror the angle of the girders. The symmetrical link of the human form with the constructive form. But it is not the form which draws the attention, it is the synchronicity of the form. The way disparate elements naturally hold together and are not held together. In the photograph I see the woman walking across the bridge her body and the girders in sync, out of sync, in sync, out of sync, in sync, out of sync, in sync, out of sync, in sync. Gone!
Rob: My first reaction is to pass over this image. It’s uncomfortable and unattractive. Its edgy composition makes me want to pass it by. Even the woman in the picture is marching out of it. Alone, she is walking fast and purposefully. Her aloneness makes me uncomfortable. It seems that for her – like the viewer – this is a ‘non place’. A discarded moment. It’s wet. Traffic is splashing by. There is little to be gained lingering on an ugly industrial bridge in the South Wales valleys that you can't even see over. She is focussed on getting somewhere more comfortable. She seems unaware of the bridge, and certainly of the strange relationship she has with it, captured here in a fraction of a second: How the uncompromisingly functional symmetry of the bridge’s girders is mirrored by her ephemeral, angular figure! She could have been drawn in, spontaneously, by the bridge’s architect, bored of his ruler, yet not quite able to let go of it.
The play of angles draws my attention to the extraordinary relationship between woman and bridge. What is it saying to me? I get ‘permanence’ and ‘impermanence’. Clearly this white haired woman is impermanent. She's barely in the picture. Like the space in the picture, most of her life is behind her. Yet, the bridge too is ageing. They are not so different. But for me that's not quite it. That’s too neat. It doesn't seem to be what the picture is saying. Yet the bridge still says “Permanence” to me. I find myself with permanence of another kind: The constancy of the bridge's insentience, an endless patience, a ‘waiting for nothing’, a silent offering to the vulnerability of the woman's sentience. Unaware, she rushes on. The fragility of her human form. She too is rusting away. This picture speaks of the relationship between ‘Sentience and Insentience’, of the suffering inherent to human life, because, unlike the insentience of the bridge, we care to live, and live more comfortably. We mind going rusty! Seemingly unaware of her relationship with the bridge, and therefore of her own insentience, she marches swiftly on to the next place where she wants to be, like we do so easily in our own non places, such as walking to and from the car, missing what is happening, cut off from the wider context of our relationship with the world around us.
Yet there is a clue here, a way in, for her foot offers a moment of un-blurred stillness, an opportunity for integration. Place your attention on her foot, and she's present! Her foot's contact with the ground brings her into the picture, bridging sentience and insentience. She’s still moving, but there is also an opportunity for relationship with the insentient, for connection on a glum day in the Valleys. It’s never too late, because the only time to notice is now. The moment your foot hits the ground!
I like to imagine she went on to enjoy the company of an old friend in a warm cafe, where hot cups of tea are condensing up the windows. Of course, she may rushing to catch a bus so she can join Samye Ling in Caerphilly, just down the road. We’ll never know.
A Verse
Rain raining
Cars Swishing
Bridge walking
Bridge Jumping
Rob: As a 'professional' photographer, this has given me an opportunity to re-visit photography through the ‘Beginners Eyes.’ Working to the tight deadlines of daily newspapers, I’ve learnt to make swift, uncompromising choices when selecting the best image to send the picture desk. I took this picture on a walk in the park a few years ago. Kids jumping off a bridge? Can't walk past that. I’ll stand here so the jumper stands out against the water. Click! I know it works, but I’ve long got used to it. I have to see past the familiar to give it a fresh attention. I’ve never tried to listen to it before. I wonder if this idea of Eddy’s is going to work. I’ve no idea what it’s going to say…
Looking at it now there is something spiritual about the boy’s jump from the bridge. For a moment, he is flying. In this instant, he could be rising out of the Taff, not falling into it! (Falling downwards and upwards!) Of course, like Icarus, his flight is doomed. In a moment he will plunge into the Taff, water and bubbles rushing by. It’s gone so fast, yet for this moment he is free. He’s done the hardest part,
letting go! A death defying moment, or perhaps death embracing – of fear and exhilaration as he surrenders to the leap. Yet, just now, he has surrendered to the void and is liberated. His flight and death’s proximity makes him feel very alive. This is a moment of exhilarating presence. Fear is transformed. Now it does it for him, and he falls, the moment of falling full of excitement, of raw experience, the rushing void so close. (You can’ t jump off a bridge and worry about your homework at the same time.) Soon he will crash, water rushing, into the Taff, scream and holler as he rushes round to do it again. Perhaps he will cross this bridge again in many years to come, rushing by in the rain, and remember. I guess we're always falling. Sometimes I can fall like the boy in the picture. Sometimes, fearful of what is going to happen next, I fall like Icarus. In sync, out of sync, in sync, out of sync, in sync, out of sync, in sync. Splash!
Eddy: At first I am unable to see what is happening. Are those cages? Certainly a child walking in the air away from me. And then I know this location and the elements of the image quickly fall into place. I have been there, walked the bridge and watched the naughty boys daring each other to jump into the water even though there is the official sign saying “Danger. Deep water. No swimming”. And the girls giggling nearby. Move from the memory to the image. A boy running in the air held in space, just by himself.
As always someone misses the point directing us elsewhere; attention taken away from the step into space. Is the dog looking? Will his “Mu-ness” take in the jump/walk. The man looks not concerned or interested. Even though the eyes in the picture are occupied elsewhere all are held together in this moment of moving in space. Hold it and let it go as you wonder at the moment of space.
A Verse
standing on the gate between heaven and hell
jump!
But not when you’re told!
