Buddha Image
Like a mother, like the sacred tree, how this wood has loved him! The improbable logic of awakening echoed in the gracious declension of rigid mass into a harmony of sweeping curves that renders form as an act of consciousness; and the unforced dependence of things and time that adds the supreme delicacy: the gold leaf flaking, the splintered foot with its wormholes, honouring transience. All of this while the wood goes on, authentic, worn naked around the chest, grain muscling through the balanced spheres of cheek and shoulder to speak of subtler forces in the way of things. As if the art and the wood have met to say something that I can barely manage to hear within me in the deep soil where their roots entwine: that, knowing the way I shape myself, he rose from the root of definition (simply standing, simply walking) to be this image: a blossoming in perfection that, with such whole and undying heart, is knowingly, utterly, breaking up. |