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in the Art of Archery, Eugene Herrigel tells of his efforts to try to comprehend Zen through the study of archery. His teacher patiently helped the German philosophy professor to gradually diminish the role of his intellect when drawing the bow until, after years of earnest practice, he finally managed to loose a shot in the right spirit. The seemingly simple act of letting go of the string without mental deliberation or intention was the first monumental step he had to make before proceeding to even shoot at a target. For his teacher, the hitting of the target was completely irrelevant to the art he was trying to teach, as it was only a physical manifestation of a truth that the archer already knew. If the archer and the bow are in harmony and the ego takes no part in the activity, then the shot will be made in the right spirit and that is all that matters. After many years of effort his master took him aside and showed Herrigel how the forces guided the arrow and how he was merely a conduit for those powers. After hitting the center of the target with the lights on, he then went on to split the first arrow with the lights turned off. Instead of taking any credit for this rationally impossible feat he just humbly explained that “It did it.” The master aimed to teach Herrigel humility and to be indifferent to the final outcome of the shot. Whether he hit the bull’s-eye or missed the target there had to be complete equanimity, for it was not in fact Herrigel that was loosing the shot but the unspoken powers that guide men’s lives. It was only by accepting this that Herrigel could then allow the arrows to be shot through him rather than by him. In other arts, too, the role of the artist is that of a medium rather than an individual. This idea that the artist is not really the creating force is an underlying theme in the arts of Japan, and it is thesupreme achievement of an artist to reach the levels where conscious effort and thought are abandoned to the dictums of the unseen forces that guide our lives. It is therefore the spirit of the artist at the moment of performance that is the criteria by which art is judged in Japan. Calligraphy, for instance, which is one of the most highly respected art forms in the both China and Japan, is said to be a perfect reflection of the state of mind of the artist at the time it was written. When preparing to write, a calligrapher must summon a serene and focused mind that will guide the brush swiftly over the paper. The whole process is meditative, from the opening of the writing set, through the steady grinding of the charcoal stick to make the ink, to the intense concentration of brush on paper. Defining art is as difficult as defining life itself, as the two are inseparable, but art may be better understood in terms of what it has to offer mankind. The Value of Art The importance that the Japanese attach to works of art is sometimes hard to put into context, but the following story may illustrate the strength of feelings that art can arouse. A samurai had been asked to look after a much-prized hanging scroll, but while his master was away a fire took hold of the building. In order to salvage the work of art he bravely reentered the room where the scroll was kept only to find that his exits had been cut off and he had no means of escape. In an act of almost unbelievable bravery and willpower he drew his sword and cut a tract in his abdomen before the flames consumed him. On closer inspection of the charred body the scroll was found unscathed by the fire, safe within the samurai’s abdominal cavity. From a Zen perspective, works of art that are done in moments of enlightenment are indeed mediums for others to grasp the ungraspable. They are imbued with the magic of the moment of creation and are to be accorded the greatest respect. Even Ikkyu, who was a staunch advocator of nonmaterialism, treasured the works of art handed down by his father, the Emperor Go-Komatsu, despite having thrown his certificate of enlightenment back at his teacher. The value of art has been categorized in terms of what it can give to us as humans. The three main functions that art serves fall into one of three categories: emotional expression, communication of ideas, or amusement—and some art may even satisfy all three at once. The Zen monks used the arts as a vehicle for the serious business of communicating their understanding of life to their fellowmen, but within their work there was also humor, satire, and an exquisite sense of beauty. The Daruma (the Japanese term for the Bodhidharma), so often mercilessly caricatured by the Zen monks, was often drawn in a few intense minutes, with little respect accorded to the monk, considering his historical importance. But this intentional lack of deference shows another Zen way of ensuring that nothing becomes sacred or more important than anything else. One monk tore up his master’s scrolls when the master appointed him his successor. The master yelled, “What are you doing,” and the monk replied, “What are you saying.” The idea of lampooning the Christian figurehead has probably not occurred to many ecclesiastic artists, and in days gone by the punishment for such blasphemy would have been severe if not capital. However, for Zen monks, nothing was sacred, and this allowed the dimension of humor to enter much of their work. Despite this humor there was still an incredible veneration for pieces that managed to catch the fleeting spirit of enlightenment. The Japanese actually attribute Buddha Nature to some pieces of art, and this idea of the transference of spirit or kami is also found in their Shinto beliefs. Japanese value art for the wisdom it enshrines and for its ability to transfer this wisdom to others. But for true wabi sabi art, it is the impermanence of the piece that makes it so special, and therefore a large part of the value accorded to it lies in its ephemeral nature and in the fact that the same moment will never come again. Like valuable paintings in the West, highly prized tea bowls may be kept in museums, but the true appreciation of simple and humble crafts, which is the lifeblood of wabi sabi, is too fleeting to stand this testimony, and only the shape of the bowl will remain. An essential element of wabi sabi is innovation and originality and bringing in new challenges for the mind to explore. Creativity is an integral part of the artistic process. It provides the new ideas and inspiration for new arts and seems to be an essential element in developing new types of expressions. It is usually assumed that creativity is something all humans are capable of to some extent, and few would question this—except possibly Zen monks. If, as Zen maintains, we live in a world of consciousness, where our every thought and feeling is compartmentalized to fit the con- structs of our mental grasp of the world, then what we refer to as creativity may just be the rearranging of these constructs in a clever and artful way. The actual creation of something completely new may be a lot rarer than one might have thought. If we wish to be truly creative, then isn’t it necessary to go beyond the rearranging of symbols to produce something that comes from the very source of our being? The answer may be that only those who have transcended the boundaries of dualism, who have succeeded in stopping their internal dialogues, who are able to perceive the world in its “is-ness” are able to be creative in the truest sense of the word. The value accorded to art in the past, particularly in the East, has been the transference of this magical insight into a physical manifestation of the inexplicable world that the enlightened artist perceives. But if the artist has not drunk from this bottomless well, then does his art have any real spiritual value and is his art able to provide anything other than intellectual amusement? This is a crucial point when considering the value of art, and although art for pure amusement may have its place in society, the art of wabi sabi usually has its sights set on the furthering of spiritual awareness and the enhancement of the environments we live in. As the role of religion in Japan and other countries is in decline, it seems that art’s role as a source of amusement has become more predominant in the womb of materialism. As such, its ability to amuse through intellectual stimulation is becoming a dominant factor in its raison d’être. The role of art, its function and therefore its value have all changed radically over the last couple of centuries. The pace of change is greater than at any time in man’s history and it is bringing with it huge social changes that have a considerable effect on our psychological well-being. As the aspirations for life are changing, there is a need to find something that is constant and fulfilling, and it is here that art may be able to provide an invaluable reference point to remind us that life is still an intensely magical experience. It is now that art should be trying to light the way toward a more balanced approach to life in a modern world. As an art based on a philosophy of disciplined nonmaterialism and nonrationalism, wabi sabi may be able to inject some perspective on the unrestrained hedonism of today. What Is Beauty? As suggested earlier, the idea that beauty exists in its own right is untenable not only to Zen theory but also the vast majority of academic opinion. Beauty is probably best defined as the aesthetic pleasure gained from perceiving something that one believes to be physically attractive. That the rough, asymmetric, and modest objects of wabi sabi are considered by some to be the essence of beauty illustrates that a rational or objective approach to understanding beauty will probably yield little.