Journal | April 2020

Shadow and Lightness

20 years ago while I was an architecture student, I was lucky enough to travel by 4WD from Kathmandu across the Himalayas to Lhasa in Tibet.
It was right on the edge of winter and due to the lack of tourists management had turned the hot water off in most hotels.
It was cold.*
It was also hot and dusty during the day and the landscape was barren and desolate.Sunlight at 5000m above sea level is extremely white and harsh. 
Shelter was found in the shadow from the harsh light and the construction systems were mainly built around stacking and closed in spaces. This approach to shade is very different to our familiar delicate pavilion structures we have become accustomed to over the last 100 years. 

Before travelling I had read about the Tibetan Buddhist practise of “seclusion”. For the uninitiated this basically means going into a state of meditation in a dark cave for a period of anything between 2-30 years.
Years! 

I’m not Buddhist but felt deeply moved by the traditions and culture of the people.In the buses, in the markets and in the temples there was a constant low hum from the bellies of everyone religious, (everyone) chanting under their breath the continuous prayer “Om mani padme hum”.
“Hale to the jewel in the lotus.” 

Temple interiors were immersed in shadow, a blackness that may even be darker than “Anish Kapoor black”.
Manufacturing the environment of this darkness were the ever-burning yak-butter lamps that give off a sticky, sooty smoke. 
This soot covers everything including the gold leaf coated images of deities that adorn the walls. These golden images reflect the yellow coloured flame in a flicker before the image returns to darkness.
There is a mystical atmosphere conjured by the smell, the sound and the darkness.
Despite this tradition of sanctifying the darkness and solitude, my perception of the culture was one of lightness and spontaneity. People held themselves with sense of inner calm and certainty and would explode into rapturous smiles and laughter. 

I compare this to our situation now and our temporary seclusion.As we emerge from a state of isolation into one of uncertainty, it seems appropriate to idolise Calvino’s image of Perseus leaping into the air with his winged sandals. 

“Whenever humanity seems condemned to heaviness, I think I should fly like Perseus into a different space.
I don’t mean escaping into dreams or the irrational.
I mean that I have to change my approach, look at the world from a different perspective, with a different logic and with fresh methods of cognition and verification. “

― Italo Calvino, Six Memos For The Next Millennium, On Lightness 

We look forward with optimism to the next chapter and a “different space”.  

Tom Rowe

*Post script: despite cold temperatures in the Tibetan winter I would strongly dissuade resorting to fermented yak butter tea. It sounds much more glamourous than it really is. Best to stick with the standard yak butter tea.