Dissolution/Illumination: images of rDzogs-Rim
The completion stage follows the generation or creation stage/sKye-Rim, in which an image of a buddha, bodhisattva, yidam, or other figure is held in mind. The visualizations may be quite complex or quite simple. They may be generated in steps (first a lotus seat, then a seed syllable atop the seat, and so on) or they simply appear to the mind to be meditated on, in the nature of light and therefore, translucent.
I've had it explained to me that this is the "shamatha" or single-pointed or calm abiding aspect of Vajrayana practice and indeed, there's much to be said of it and for it, but the completion stage is not often remarked on in the literature, nor do many of my teachers wax loquacious about it. The instructions I've received have been pithy, terse, and direct. The completion stage involves in some cases, a sequential dissolution of the visualization, the mantra syllables melting in a set order, etc. and there is the tsa-lung component in experiencing and dissolving the nodes and channels of the parasympathetic nervous system in accordance with Indo-Tibetan physiological theory.
This latter aspect requires guidance from a lama who's accomplished a three-year retreat (at least; better yet is if one can attend such a retreat oneself). The last component or aspect of rDzogs-Rim is dissolving all of this into emptiness (shunyata/sTong-Pa-Nyid). This has several salutary effects. The practitioner experiences the impermanence of form, establishes a clarity of awareness of all as mental fabrication and the process of that mentation, is able to relinquish clinging to appearances, and is able to free oneself of the ego's continual grasping at transient phenomena (the ego itself being a transient phenomenon). Eventually, one realizes enlightenment, about which I'll say nothing; that's a topic for another time, if at all.
The completion stage is a settling; the images dissolve, mind and body fall away and one senses the luminous nature of being. There is awareness but it's neither from center or circumference. But what transpires before that is what inspired this suite of images.
I was in Nepal when I started shoving ink around on paper and really didn't have anything programmatic in mind. As I was messing about with ink and brush, I was in a pretty spontaneous mood and had no desire to paint buddhas or bodhisattvas. Still, the first image was of a buddha figure. I wasn't thinking about anyone in particular, it just sort of manifested!
I didn't sketch the figure inside, just started painting away and again, sortakinda let the materials at hand lead me on the way. I was tempted to leave it as is, but then, because I like textures and layers, I added the white OM at the head, the red AH at the throat, and a blue HUNG at chest level in accordance with a standard visualization, where OM=body, AH=speech, and HUNG=mind.
Then I set it aside, and wondered about another approach.
It occurred to me that in addition to being quite an inspiring exercise, this felt like a way to provide a visual statement of gratitude to this rich tradition in all its variety. The next figure was
Avalokiteshvara/Chenrezig, the Hearer of Cries, the Bodhisattva of Compassion. I wanted to follow the same spontaneity as in the first image and trusted (again, that word) in the manifestation of compassion to help the process along.
This time, I stayed truer to some of the sadhana instructions about dissolving into the seed syllable and then the syllable dissolves from bottom to top. I also realized that I didn't want to be quite so literal or diagrammatic. These images aren't "How to Dissolve" illustrations. They're my crude attempts to communicate the ineffable nature of letting go and allowing the luminous nature of Mind to reveal itself effortlessly.
I was working on another series of paintings and prints for a friend of mine, about which another time; so I set aside this idea for a bit until I returned to the United States in February.
Then we kicked into high gear. I bought quite a few supplies and settled in at my sister's in Houston and set about working on these images. I set myself a couple of rules. One is that there wouldn't be any attempt to detail faces or ornaments (except in one case, I held to that). Another was that each figure's seed syllable would be present. Another was that I'd not force a square peg into a round hole. I tried that on one image and it really didn't work. I redid it and the figure is more true to the task than previously.
In terms of preparation, I only made a couple of preparatory paintings. Padmasambhava/Guru Rinpoche is particularly close to my heart and one of my favorite classical compositions that you'll see in Tibetan thangkas is the "rainbow body"/'jas lus. This is a phenomenon that occurs when an adept has attained enlightenment and the physical body actually dissolves into prismatic dissolve, leaving behind only the clothes worn. There have been records of this throughout the Himalayan region for centuries and into the twentieth century. I'm prone to be skeptical of many things, but oddly (to many, no doubt), not this.
I'll say it now: I LOVE WATERCOLOR! I really do. There's a freedom and leeway for chance to come in and take you places you didn't know existed and at the same time, I find watercolor a very calming, meditative medium.
Once this piece was finished, I was still at an impasse. It is a sedate image and one of the points of the larger works, is that we're attempting to look at a dynamic process. I also didn't want to lock Padmasambhava into a formua. With Manjusri and Tara, I was happy to hint at the composite nature of their figures and the dissolution of their milieux using linear constructs and lots of metallic pigment; for Padmasambhava, I wanted something more organic and I found it right in front of me. Watercolor came to my aid; this is the only work that is a hundred percent watercolor. The rest are varying mixtures of acrylic, watercolor, and ink. I also wanted a sense of effervescence as the figure radiates outward to dissolve.
But again, I wanted a more organic approach to the image and turned again to watercolor, this time with an understanding that the two figures are not-two. They're one. The issue with the way many westerners come to the Yab-Yum imagery in Tibetan art is loaded with a lot of prurient baggage and a sense that two humans in congress is naughty or outside the realm of "proper" religion. This was more understandable when the first missionaries came to South Asia and brought with them a colonialist, Christian, and imperial project all rolled into one, and it's taken much of the last decades in the twentieth and into this century to get the point across that said imagery isn't solely sensual nor is it intended to be erotic, though it might be natural component. There is a case to be made that the sensual is part of being human and is a manifestation of something more than desire. The erotic aspect of the imagery, when it appears (and you see this more in North Indian iconography), can be a charged energy at the service of the kind of ardent feeling for achieving enlightenment for the benefit of all sentient beings.
Returning to Avalokiteshvara, I realized I'd be working with color as opposed to black and white and Avalokiteshvara's syllable is white, with a lot of roseate shade around it. The syllable is acrylic gloss medium allowed to dry and then painted over and wiped, painted around to play on the relief, and so on.this presented a different challenge. I also wanted to preserve the framing of the figure within the square box and I realized that since the bodhisattva is white in color with a pink tint, there was a good chance that the equally white HRI syllabe would not be visible. I setteled on a compromise of sorts. The center of the figure is certainly more pink than the outer limbs, but on closer inspection, the syllable is thrown into relief by the roseate pigment surrounding it.
The udumbara flower held in the outer left hand is meant to echo the five crown points and as a counterpoint to the fiery lotus leaves below. Typically, the udumbara is represented by rounded petals and not quite so flame-like.
Vajrayogini broke all molds. She is afire with non-duality and the feminine power that vanquishes all illusion. I set a limit on color here: gold, red. That simple. Both primal, striking colors ablaze with - one hopes - wisdom that reveals truth and provides the basis for enlightened activity. Thus, I wanted her to be perhaps the most spontaneous and off-the-cuff. To that end, I almost went full abstract expressionist, except that I'm still dealing with the human form and I do have a need for thematic continuity (hence the gold lines reappear signifying the dynamism of the moment). I wanted the white space to encroach more on the ball of flame not so much as though it were coming from without as the image was dissolving into space.
As you can see, there's a lot of gold in the Vajrayogini image. There's a fair amount of reflective pigment in most of these and it's made for a difficult approach to photographing the pieces. The light changes and shifts and with it, emphasis and shade and tonal values. To give an example, compare this image of Samantabhadra with the one below.
This series is the beginning of what will be a longer term project. When I return to Nepal, I'll hopefully be able to work on a larger canvas and explore these images and themes more thoroughly. While I'm here in the states, I'll be returning to them and I think I'll be taking a more minimalist approach. It's been fun bringing a certain amount of bombast and dynamism to the proceedings, but there's another stage in this, as we cling less and less to phenomena.
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| Manjusri |
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| Tara |
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Padmasambhava
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