Replicating
by Takuma Ono
There’s much to be said for gardens that touch and transform lives. Then, there are the myriad of zen gardens that exist throughout the world that feel like, well, replicas.
Zen dry gardens (karesansui) of Kyoto first emerged during the 13th century alongside the practice of Zen. Today, these gardens are quintessential landmarks; a visit to Kyoto would not be complete without a visit to one of its renown gardens. Some associate the gardens with minimalism—and this seems to generate a more secular, aesthetic reverence of the gardens. Nonetheless, for centuries, these austere gardens have been transforming minds by aiding the practice of meditation. The deliberate spareness is deemed essential to those who strive for oneness with the universe. For many passing visitors, these grounds are a humble reminder of the grandness of the human spirit.
When the maker of a famous garden leaves no record or explanation of the design, the garden becomes shrouded in myth. Replication is employed to capture and package the myth—but replication has its drawbacks.
Ryōan-ji, arguably the most renown of Kyoto’s dry gardens, is frequented by busloads of middle school students on field trips and by visitors that arrive from around the globe to experience it in person. Of the hoards of patrons that are herded through the grounds of Ryōan-ji, many cannot help but to intellectualize and rationalize the sparsely arranged composition of stones—in hushed exchange. Curiously, there are a few tourists that appear to be fully present in this space without intellectualizing their experience at all. Are these few able to mentally block out the hoards of people around them? Clearly, in the moment, I found myself way too distracted by the crowds to fully appreciate the grounds of Ryōan-ji.
What I have observed over the years is that the Japanese dry garden, exported to sites outside of Japan, are all too often replicated and reproduced wholeheartedly. In the 1960s, a replica of Ryōan-ji was constructed at the New York Botanical Gardens. While a Japanese dry garden constructed outside of Japan may retain its ability to evoke and incite, my experiences of such gardens are often disrupted by its strong association with Japan. That being said, to my own admission, my aversion does not always stop me from being moved by a well-executed Japanese dry garden (e.g. Portland Japanese Garden).
As a person who has designed, constructed, and examined many different types of gardens over the past two decades, I can’t help but see the many possible ways a zen dry garden can be better adapted to contemporary cultures and environments outside of Japan.
Read my post on how seeing can be altered by breathing.
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