Introduction

 

Silence suggests mindfulness – a sentiment of desolation and solitude; living with a sense of engagement with life as it happens, rather than being caught up in unnecessary noise. In the rush and crush of modern life, the rarities are what we value most, such as space, quiet and time. Space to breathe, time to dream. What is it like to achieve full silence? What is it like to be within silence? In cities, everything is in your face – noise, architecture, billboards, odours, and colours. There is nothing subtle in cities and as a result of this relentless sensory attack, we intuitively develop a tolerance as a defence mechanism, numbing our senses and subsequently we disconnect (Behuniak, 2005).

I have gone out and explored the impact deep inner and outer silence might have on a person, and which place or space will induce ‘true' silence. In our industrial-technological-urban environments, we insert sounds called ‘white noise' to simulate silence. So over the years we’ve become so desensitised to sound, we had to create more complex sound effects and louder soundtracks for movies to have an actual impact on the audience; we walk around with music and chattering phone calls in our ears to distract us – there's never a quiet moment. True, deep silence exists within us – we just need to listen to it, and I've found the best place to start my search is in nature. It's not the wind, the rustling of leaves, or the crunching of sand underfoot that makes the excess sounds fade away; silence is around us and within our bodily fibres. One must delve deep into nature with an empty mind and you might be surprised to find: the ultimate ‘no sound’ space (Bays, 2008). It is not something you hear, it is something you feel –the air is thick with silence, pulsating on its own; a silent heartbeat experienced in your internal ear drum and cosmos. There is a correlation between the noise in your head and your need for silence.

 

Background and Theory of Phenomenology

 

In the late 19th century early 20th century there was a shift from Rene Descartes' Cartesian perspective: where the mind and body were seen as separate from each other, objectively looking outwards at the world; towards a phenomenological view inwards, within the world (Wylie, 2007). The goal was to analyse, interpret and deal with ‘everyday lived experience’ (Wylie, 2007, p. 140) through phenomenological theories inspired by the writings of Martin Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty of ‘vision, knowledge and embodiment’ (Wylie, 2007, p. 147). Artists started to practically apply Phenomenology by rearranging landscapes and creating immense sculptures on and with the earth; known as Land Art or Earth Works. I would like to take these ideas further, and analyse how one can see and experience Earth Art only when in silence.

 

 The Disconnect

 

There has been a type of disconnect within society – a disconnection from nature and each other. We all might think we are in permanent technological connection with each other but how much substance does this ‘connection’ withhold; it can't possibly be as valuable as an organic engagement between two live bodies – but, unfortunately, this is where our ‘real’ human socialisation, interactions and bonds start to disintegrate; and it eventually gets completely lost amongst the constant imagery and artificial discourses that society is built upon.  Therefore, this landscape art of mine hopes to mobilise society/our world community towards re-building a reciprocal relationship between humans and our natural surroundings. It isn't about the placed human; it's about placing the reader within and taking the viewer to the space/moment of silence and enlightenment. The photography attempts to recreate/evoke a feeling of awakening / trance / cleanse / absolute freedom – within the viewer when they look into the images.

Photography might be seen as taking an ocular-centric position, where sight is raised to a dominant cultural position (Macpherson, 2005). The viewer observes in silence, the silent image – if one takes an image in silence, does the viewing of the photograph not take the viewer a step or two closer to the true moment the image was taken? Could it be possible the viewer has a closer experience to what the photographer had than if there were sound at the immediate moment the photo was taken? This position sets the viewer up ‘to engage with the world from a participating consciousness rather than an observing one’ (Gablik, 1991, p. 177) and to look outwards upon the landscape, through the artist’s framed point of view; but not as a passive audience member, rather as an active participant of your own personal meaning making. ‘He who sees cannot possess the visible unless he is possessed by it unless he is of it… he is one of the visibles’ (Wylie, 2007, p. 151). In other words, one must not simply be in the world but be of it. One must attain full embodiment ‘which, for Ingold as for Merleau-Ponty, is viewed as an ongoing generative process of acting in and with the world’ (Wylie, 2007, p. 160).

The idea of my landscape photography is to pull the viewers into the image, spark intrigue and contemplative debates amongst one another; it must leave the viewer questioning their own position on and within this earth. Every line, shape, and colour of the landscape carries complex messages of the earth (or not) – either way one must contemplate, listen, and silence our minds so we can deeply appreciate and absorb more of the life around us; it is truly magical, and it would be a shame for it to go unnoticed (Rajski, 2003). There is a need for healing, there is a need to listen to the earth's pulses, through silence; allow the earth to heal us and bring us inner peace and serenity.

Only by physically detaching yourself from the walled city-life we call home, the internet and cellular connections, can we have the opportunity to experience deep silence within and see the world around us – you observe what usually goes unnoticed (Bays, 2008). Disconnect to connect, because a journey in silence, within landscapes as sacred spaces, becomes ‘a quest of significance, towards wholeness and correctness with the cosmos’ (Matthews, 2000, p. 34).

 

 Eco-Art

 

The point of Eco-Art was to protest against commercialisation of art in galleries, perceived artificiality of art and environmental concerns. With the emergence Eco-Art, art became a multi-sensory experience (Macpherson, 2005). Eco-artists are concerned with local and global environmental issues, varying from shallow to deep ecology. Deep ecologists believe separate parts of the eco-system function as a whole, the earth is damaged and in need of healing. The only way any form of healing could take place is if there is a deep level of ‘understanding, trust, respect, and help […] – choosing to feel compassion instead of detachment’ (Gablik, 1991, p. 178) to the environment. There is an opportunity now, through art and spirituality, to restore and renew our dialogue with nature; which is also the primary goal of a deep ecologist (Matthews, 2000). We have become so removed from our perception of our place in the natural order of the world (Macpherson, 2005).

Through African Eco-Art I have gained insight into how South African artists attempt to address this healing and immersive process between the earth and humanity; there's a need for balance in the relationship between humans and nature (Wylie, 2007). The physical artwork itself, the creation process thereof as well as the effects of its presence after construction, all play a critical part in the overall effect it has on society and the surrounding landscape. According to Mathews, ‘the ecological and spiritual crises are related’ (Matthews, 2000, p. 9); and it is vital that, through environmental art, we ‘can contribute to a re-evaluation of the relationship between humanity, the environment and spirituality’ (Matthews, 2000, p. 8).

 

I would like my photography and the captured landscapes express the ‘folding and unfolding of space, as well as the crisscrossing of interiority and exteriority’ (Wylie, 2007, p. 158).  According to Ingold, ‘[landscape] has both transparency and depth: transparency because one can see it, and depth because the more one looks, the further one sees’ (Wylie, 2007, p. 161). Just like Hannelie Coetzee's Land Art exhibition called: Buigkrag (2010-2012), my photography is ‘intended as a meditation on the relationship between industrialisation and the natural/aesthetic world’ (Breytenbach, 2012, p. 2). The created artwork ‘prompts a reconsideration of whether physical manifestation of contemporary life in nature should necessarily be seen as evidence of humans’ intrusion on the ideals of natural and aesthetic beauty, or whether it could serve as a reminder that co-habitation, when accepted and honoured, will have better prospects for averting the abuse of natural resources’ (Breytenbach, 2012, p. 2).

These photographs are intended to give land agency and subjectivity. In silence, the relationship between human and the natural landscape become reciprocal. Landscape or earth art is temporary (Massey, 1992, p. 68); one captures an impermanent moment, the landscape and life is constantly changing. The waves constantly move and change shape; the captured grasslands and rock surfaces are vulnerable to erosion and natural elements. Observing landscape when you and the world around are silent it becomes a form of art that allows you to gain access to all of your senses. This earth art has been created to address and add to Elaine Matthews' concern with humanities attitude towards the environment.

Matthews believes ‘we live in a culture that has little capacity or appreciation for meaningful ritual’ (2000, p. 9). It is important to find the spiritual within the art and let the art bring the same out of you (the participating viewer); nature is sacred, and an awareness of this needs to be re-established (Matthews, 2000). We are currently threatening our ecosystem, according to Matthews, with our ‘manic production and consumption, maximum energy usage, mindless wastage’ (2000, p. 9), and greed. The concept of experiencing ecological art in silence has the potential of opening up space for redefining the self as relational, rather than separate and self-contained (Gablik, 1991).

 

Within absence, you truly see

- Place yourself within a silent world

 

Be silent, and listen. I found Stephen R. Covey's quote very relevant here; stating that “most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply”. A dialogue consists of two or more equally contributing parties – it involves audible and/or inaudible communication in perfect equilibrium. A dialogue with nature could be seen as a transfer of energy between two entities, humans and nature. We just need to learn to listen, because somehow we ‘have convinced ourselves that only humans speak, and, as a result, we no longer hear the other voices that surround us’ (Vogel, 2006, p. 145). ‘Nature appears to us as mute, with no inner life and nothing to communicate, and so we think we can do with it whatever we wish’ (Vogel, 2006, p. 145). Just stop. Take a moment. Listen.

– But how? Is the question. The possible answer: In silence. The idea I had for my photography is for the viewer to become part of, or at least try to understand, ‘the human experience of silence in its communicative fullness’ (Acheson, 2008, p. 552).

 

Silence comes in various forms, and can be defined in many different ways – depending on the receiver. One man's version of silence might be completely different to the next. Silence could be emptiness – an absence of sound, creating peace and serenity within or in contrast could arouse a powerful and vigorous energy deep within your core. Silence may also be completely ‘full’ – full of sound, so much sound everything else in the immediate space falls silent. A rocker, for example, screaming out his coarse lyrics and beating the grungy rhythm out of his guitar – to him, the world is silent and he is at peace within himself. 

 

Capturing coincidental and temporal art

 

Capturing coincidental and temporal art in rustic simplicity, freshness and quietness becomes a search for elegance in your immediate environment. These are quirks and anomalies arising from perspective and place, which add uniqueness and elegance to the photo.  There is beauty in the imperfect qualities and elements of any scene, with respect to unpredictable or changing conditions. My ‘Silent’ photography could be interpreted as an aspect of unrefined or simple style. It is up to the observational ability of the viewer to notice and discern the hidden signs of true excellence in the seemingly ordinary landscape (Roberts, 1991).

An artist grabs onto a moment and wants to claim it as his own. Drawing from Ingold's approach how we perceive landscapes: a moment in nature or the ‘whole-body’ experience of landscape is a unique experience; and will never reoccur again (Macpherson, 2005, p. 99). It is up to the artist to display this moment as accurately as possible – but it's completely personal. One sometimes must manipulate an image, frame an image, and display an image a certain way to emphasise the reality and the truth within and the truth of what was seen, and felt within that place, space, and time.

 

Silencing the noise in your mind – in order to see

 

It was when I read an article written by Alain de Botton that it became evident; to gain genuine benefits from a journey, one must go deeper. He stated; “We need to make sure that the outer journey aligns with, and reinforces, the inner one” (de Botton, 2014). Everyone is involved in what might be called “an inner journey”. The inner journey is a deep-seated force existing within us; it drives and encourages the body to evolve towards a better version of itself – to grow towards qualities of character we admire but do not yet possess – we may, for example, be on a journey towards greater patience or perspective, forgiveness or curiosity, mindfulness or clarity.

When planning an outer journey, ‘we should fix clearly in our minds where we are on this inner journey’ (de Botton, 2014). Then only can you start to think ‘about how you could match the inner destination with a place in the world that would assist us in appropriating it more successfully’ (de Botton, 2014). Go out and find a location in the outer world containing the ‘echoes of qualities that support an inner journey’ (de Botton, 2014).

 

‘To be moved by an image of a destination is, in essence, to recognize a congruence between a place in the world and a destination on our inner map. There is something in the scene we see outside that our inner eye knows we need.’ (de Botton, 2014)

 

The challenge then was to decide on a suitable destination. If you need to escape, where should you go?

 

Finding beauty in the imperfections

 

The idea of Zen Buddhism supposes that when humans are surrounded by natural, and ever changing objects it helps us, to connect to our so-called real world and escape possible stresses in our immediate environment; as a result of this connection one starts to find the most basic objects intriguing and beautiful (Brown, 2007). The photography becomes an immersive experience - to go where beauty is not obvious, where there is nothing (Behuniak, 2005). The reason why the desert (for example) looks so uniform to the outsider is a function of where we come from. When you come to the desert you still have those defences up. As one spends time here, you realise there is nothing to shut down from. There is no need for any defence and you start to open up. You let your guard down and lift the curtain to your senses and enjoy the sound of silence. This is the reason why, after spending time in the desert for example, your observation mechanisms recalibrate and you have a heightened sense of reality. Perception becomes a meaningful function of being (Macpherson, 2005). As you start to see detail in the nuances, you reconnect and feel recharged.

With this fresh perspective on subtleties, the beauty of the desert becomes obvious. Wabi from the Japanese word Wabi Sabi, today implies rustic simplicity, freshness or quietness, and can be applied to both natural and human-made objects, or understated elegance. Sabi is beauty or serenity that comes with age. In today's Japan, the meaning of wabi-sabi is often condensed to ‘wisdom in natural simplicity’ (Gold, 2004, p. 20). In the arts, it is typically defined as ‘flawed beauty’ (Gold, 2004, p. 21). In addition to the literal meaning, Wabi and Sabi both suggest sentiments of desolation and solitude. In one sense wabi-sabi is a training whereby the student of wabi-sabi learns to find the most basic, natural objects interesting, fascinating and beautiful (Parkes, 2011).  Wabi-sabi can change our perception of the world to the extent that a chip or crack in a vase makes it more interesting and gives the object greater meditative value (Parkes, 2011). Through meditation and trances, it might be possible to ‘reharmonise the out-of-balance relationship with nature’ (Gablik, 1991). I hope my photography foreground the above-mentioned philosophies of aesthetics in nature and foreground the represented ‘flawed’ landscape as beautiful (earth art) in contemplative silence.

 

 

References

 

Acheson, K. (2008). Silence as gesture: Rethinking the nature of communicative   silences. Communication Theory , 18(4), 535-555.

 

Bays, H. (2008). On Silence. Journal of the Institute of Buddhist studies , 10, 3-8.

 

Behuniak, S. (2005). Finding Solitude. THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF      LEARNING , 12 (1), 43-51.

 

Breytenbach, Z. (2012). Works in Stone. Johannesburg: National Arts Council of   South Africa.

 

Brown, S. (2007). Practical Wabi Sabi. Carrol & Brown Publishers Limited.

 

Coetzee, H. Works in Stone. National Arts Council of South Africa. Arts on Main,            South Africa.

 

de Botton, A. (2014, June 29). Identify the inner journey before you pack a suitcase.         Independent Digital News .

 

Gablik, S. (1991). The Reenchanment of Art. New York: Thames and Hudson.

 

Gold, T. (2004). Living Wabi Sabi: The True Beauty of Your Life. Kansas City:     Andrews McMeel Publishing.

 

Macpherson, H. (2006). Landscape's ocular-centrism - and beyond? From Landscape       Research to Landscape Planning: aspects of intergration, education and    application , 12, 95-104.

 

Massey, D. (1992). Politics and Space/Time. New Left Review.

 

Matthews, E. (2000). Environmental Art and its Contribution to Establishing an    Awareness of the Sacred in Nature. Grahamstown: Rhodes University.

 

Parkes, G. (2011). Japanese Aesthetics. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy .

 

Rajski, P. (2003). Finding God in the Silence: Contemplative Prayer and Therapy.            Journal of Religion and Health , 42 (3), 181-190.

 

Roberts, F. (1991). Why We Enjoy Coincidences. New Blackfriars , 72 (850), 290-           295.

 

Vogel, S. (2006). The Silence of Nature. Environmental Values , 15 (2), 145-171.

 

Wylie, J. (2007). Landscape . Abingdon: Routledge.