White, Silence, Tree
I recently read Kenya Hara's exceptionally interesting book White, in which he explores the simplicity, the subtlety, and, ultimately, the emptiness of white (an emptiness that seems to invite one to fill it). In particular, I was struck by the following words:
I recently read Kenya Hara's exceptionally interesting book White, in which he explores the simplicity, the subtlety, and, ultimately, the emptiness of white (an emptiness that seems to invite one to fill it). In particular, I was struck by the following words:
There is no such thing as “white.” Rather, “white” exists solely in our perception. Therefore, we must not attempt to search for “white.” Instead, we must search for a way to feel the whiteness. Through this process, we gain an awareness of a white that is slightly whiter than the white we experience normally. This in turn makes us aware of the diversity of whiteness found in Japanese culture; we come to understand words such as silence and empty space, and distinguish the hidden meanings contained in them. As we achieve this rapport with white, our world glows more brightly, and its shadows deepen.
As I read the book, my thoughts often wandered to the ink and wash paintings of Sesshū Tōyō (1420-1506) as well as the many paintings and calligraphy created by many Zen masters over the centuries.
And, as a result of such thoughts, these images came to be.
The Images
