The Zen of Art

The 11th-century Zen master, Dōgen, is reported to have said:

“Before one studies Zen, mountains are mountains and waters are waters; after a first glimpse into the truth of Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and waters are no longer waters; after enlightenment, mountains are once again mountains and waters once again waters.”

This saying describes the arc of human growth as we move through the experiences of life. Here is how I see it reflected in our experience of art.

As children, when we draw a house with mountains, clouds, and a sun in the background, we do so without intention of meaning. The drawing itself, and the joy of coloring it in, is the purpose. Over time, however, we grow clever. Our drawings become tight, our rendering laborious. For many, this is the stage where art ceases to be enjoyable, and so it is abandoned.

Those who persist often discover that mere realism is not enough. “So what?” we begin to ask. At this stage, art becomes a vehicle for meaning — for social commentary, cultural critique, or emotional expression. In modern terms, we call this “self-expression.” The artist finds purpose in conveying a deeply held belief, while the audience takes delight in speculating what the artist is trying to say.

This stage is alluring, and many remain here. Yet a sincere artist, continuing to grow through life, eventually sees the limits of belief. Every conviction — social, cultural, or personal — is only partially true. One person may insist it is night, another may argue it is day. From their individual vantage points, both are correct. But from the moon, one sees that the Earth holds day and night at once — and from a greater perspective still, “day” and “night” dissolve altogether outside this small planet.

With this realization, the need to hold on to cleverness fades. What remains is the same quiet urge that moved us as children and did not need a reason to justify creativity. Once more we draw flowers, or a house with hills and clouds in the background. And once again, we have nothing particular to say through the art. The act of creation, once again, is the delightful end all in itself.