Intersection of ideas, technique, and water of life

 

Long Island Buddha by Zhang Huan (2010–11) at Meijergardens.org

The traditions of Buddhism take many forms in 2024 and have followed many paths for centuries across the societies where practitioners carry out their lives of service and personal development. This large copper sculpture is located on the grounds of the Japanese-style garden in Grand Rapids, Michigan. With the late morning winter temperature hovering at or above the freezing line, some of the night snow is slowly melting, sending drops of water down the face in the most direct line to the Earth, according to the laws of gravity. So while the face is tilted, the effect is to create lines of meltwater in vertical trajectories across the facial features. 

One way to see this moment captured by camera lens is objectively: snow is melting and moving to the ground. Another way to see this photo is more poetically with supporting interpretation from social science, too: There is a vast literature and organizational culture (religious institutions) and folklore of Buddhism in its various traditions that is signaled by this sculptor's installation in what once had been an apple orchard before being developed as a botanical garden and sculpture park. And while some of those Buddhist things are tangible, there is also much more that is not visible: things like belief, ideals, aspirations, and lessons given by one's teachers. So in the frame of this picture is a hint of that vast iceberg of information, knowledge, and wisdom: a mountain of ideas that is below the surface, huge but intangible.

Turning to the craft of metal-smithing and ways to source, shape, and complete a sculpture in copper, this hearkens back to the time in the human story between the age of stone and the age of bronze (followed by the Iron Age). For a relatively short number of generations, there was a 'copper age' in which all-copper was used for tools and artworks. But by adding tin, then the resulting mix of bronze was stronger and more useful in shaping axes, swords, brooches, and so on. So this photo is not only a reminder of the massive traditions of Buddhism in many parts of the world today and for many generations before (and after), but the picture also points to the forerunner to the Iron Age inventions and innovations; the power of crafting things from hot, liquidy metal. Controlling metal is what much of urban life and hierarchical social life depends on.

Finally, there is the significance of melting snow forming wet streaks on the face of the Buddha represented in copper. On the one hand this religious figure stands for infinite compassion (bodhisattva figures embody this). So the wet streaks could be seen as tears: expressing sadness at the human waste of resources, of time, of goodwill, of trust, of habitats and the many creatures unable to survive when their habitats are spoiled or extracted. Or, more scientifically, the water could be seen as the active ingredient for oxidation, contributing to the breakdown (entropy) of the metal face, a process that will ultimately return the metal to the Earth. Related is the idea that "water is life," since creatures of the planet depend on water to live. By streaking the compassionate one in this life-giving substance the photo expresses the vitality of the Buddha's place in social life and personal growth.

Putting these many viewpoints together, this photo exists as a fraction of a second in the morning temperature rise from the night's snow to the noon melting of most snow coverings. But being meaning-makers by habit and by nature, viewers readily look for or attach meanings to the given facts of melting snow on the sculpted head. Taking a wide-angle view, this scene combines the ideas from Buddhist tradition, the technology history for civilization, and the emotive tears of that most ephemeral life substance - water- that freely moves between solid, liquid, and gas states of being within us and around us. Seen all together, this scene is at the intersection of beliefs, techniques, and impermanence itself: water.  

Making meaning in mind or heart or in the world, indoors or outdoors

 

Boardwalk to wetlands of Meijer Gardens - berries on leaf

Many walking paths and forest hiking routes seem to pass by a cairn, usually less than 1-foot in height. Sometimes it is near a camp site, other times at a river crossing, or by a log where people sit to rest. How this began (from ancient times in mountains of Scotland, Korea, maybe also in Himalaya routes, too) and why it should spread far and wide lately is a puzzle to figure out another day. But when it comes to marking a place (Biblical description of 'ebenezer' stone pile to mark an important event) physically or with a name, people seem predisposed to do so. Attaching language with land makes it convenient to refer to in conversation when others know that name and that location, too. It is a way to make meaning: give it a name, leave a mark. These days with digital devices a person can mark a location with a map pin or by taking a photo. So the many forms of making meaning now expands with each new way of interacting with the surroundings and with each other electronically.

This photo just an arm's length from the boardwalk fencing near the wetland area of Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park shows one person's mark: it could be a bit of artistic expression (all-natural elements; contrasting colors of red+green on a brown background), an act of well-intended kindness to an unknown wild creature to feast upon (or bait for a hunting animal to seize whatever ventures there to dine, or it could be altogether a mystery --somehow the person felt like doing this. Singly or in some combination these and other meanings could be part of the actions leading to this result. Of course, even without imposing human intentions onto the environment, there is preexisting meaning in the cycle of the day and night, the annual pattern of seasons, and the circle of life. A careful observer can see these meanings play out or interpret them indirectly when signs are there, something like reading a book or decoding a riddle.

Whether it is inserting human meanings and purposes into a scene or working to read the preexisting logic and tensions of the natural world on its own terms, people are hungry to make meaning or find it already there for them to discern. The lack of meaning or having no point seems worse than meaning that is misguided or interpretations that are incomplete or simply wrong; at least there is some form of meaning, out of tune though it may be.

More visitors come to see, smell, and record flowers and trees

click for full-size view: panorama, early April 2019 expansion of botanical gardens

With months still to go before completion of the enlarged visitor center and programming areas the Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park continues to draw visitors from the city of Grand Rapids, Michigan and surroundings, as well as the wider state and Midwest region. Informational signage near the ticket counter tells of the current facilities' capacity being overrun, thus the need to accommodate the rising numbers at present and projecting into the future: more parking, more food and gift buying spaces, and toilets enough for everybody.

At a time when portable electronic devices tied into the Internet seem to distract and dissipate the focused activities of children through the elderly, it is heartening to see that some people make an effort to visit and admire the seasonal changes on display in the indoor and outdoor spaces around this piece of ground. There are signs of small increases in public attention and concern about human-caused loss of habitat, the rise in extreme weather events, and the responsibility borne be individuals and governing authorities. Both local and national authorities can curb or incentivize organizations and private companies to reduce the harm caused by their operating practices of sourcing, consuming, producing, distributing, and disposing of unused materials, heat, light, and waste.

The relationships that people develop and sustain with their physical environment and the spaces they inhabit in warm seasons and cold have changed over the generations and in direct consequence of available gear for dressing, getting around, and communicating over long distances. Each time people gain more control, power, and insulation from the physical facts of their surroundings, their own biological facts, and the habits of thinking that follow from the new normal, one consequence is less frequent and shallower connection to the natural world. Projecting this trend a few more decades into the future, it is possible to imagine more and more people who rarely get muddy shoes, are wet from rain, are chilled by falling temperatures, or who are bit by a mosquito or fly. What those future people know of non-human lives and cycles then comes not from direct experience, but is mediated by screens and on-demand reading, hearing, or viewing. Occasional black-outs, accidents, or deliberate expeditions "off the grid" will lead some people, sometimes to encounter places and events with relatively little human interference or administration.

The wide photo, above, stitched from two frames is a record of the new and expanded visitor entrance and related wider facilities to hold larger groups and bigger numbers of attendees. As work wraps up in the months ahead and traces of construction are tidied up, future visitors may come to believe the new, larger layout has always been at that scale. But returning to this photo is one way to remember the dynamic scale of human engagement with the many plants and animals inhabiting these grounds.