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Written on Stone
Theme magazine, Summer 2006
(words and images)
In the shadow of the 36-meter White Dagoba, a temple originally built in 1651 to honor a visit by the Dalai Lama, two calligraphers take turns practicing their craft. They share only the most basic kit—a sponge-tipped brush, a plastic container of water, and the stone-laid sidewalk at their feet—yet each man exhibits his own distinctive style of writing.
The first to go is a man with freshly trimmed white hair and a plaid jacket. He looks down at the sidewalk through his metal-framed glasses and begins to “paint” the stones with broad, swift strokes of the water-dipped brush. Working from memory, he moves quickly, completing his statement before the first characters have evaporated into the midday air. He takes little note of the onlookers who have gathered to puzzle out the ephemeral poetry on display, and simply hands off the brush with a smile.
His sparring partner demonstrates a much more deliberate, refined technique. He moves slowly, pausing to consult his book of poems, then modulates each stroke with a precise turn of the wrist, forming compact, artful characters. Within minutes, the words begin to fade, and soon become illegible.
Equally difficult to read are the calligraphers themselves. When asked why they do what they do, the white-haired man answers, “It’s a cheap way to practice calligraphy in the warmth of the sun, surrounded by friends”—but refuses to elaborate. It’s not difficult to imagine, however, that these wizened men are asking us to consider something more complex than they're letting on. Perhaps it is the temporary nature of life, or happiness—or maybe it’s the weather.
© 2007 Joseph Magliaro