This large-format book of wonderful photographs by Jon Kolkin, an American doctor and artist who has spent many years in Asia practicing both his avocations, takes readers away from the purely visual impact of the subject matter to something beyond. 

The sacred can, of course, be experienced in various sensory ways; there is the sound of bells or chanting and singing, the smell of incense, and the visual effect, outside and inside, of the places where people gather to worship or express their spirituality. In a cathedral this might be a huge stained-glass window, and in a temple a massive bronze statue of Buddha. All the sensory experiences are present, but there is also the silence of what Kolkin terms “inner harmony.” This beautiful and magnificently produced book gives us a visual rendering of what actually cannot be “seen” in the same way as solid objects can be seen, but captures, through Kolkin’s revealing photography, the intangible expression of a quality we’d all like to be able to tap into these days, namely the serenity of internal peace and harmony. Kolkin notes that “true happiness arises in an atmosphere of harmonious equilibrium.” And, as the Dalai Lama puts it in his foreword,

 

The images, distillations of monastic activity, convey the essence of a  life devoted to calming and focusing the mind so that it can dwell upon developing compassion and wisdom.

 

Exactly how does a photographer convey inner harmony or “show” harmonious equilibrium? It’s done here through faces, gestures and body language, the phenomenon, that which we can see, drawing our attention to the noumenon, that non-sensory essence which we can’t see. To capture the silent, invisible essence, one must photograph its momentary physical manifestation. The expressions of a boy’s face as he intently studies an ancient Buddhist text are almost identical to those of the boys having a kick-about with a football, both demonstrating total concentration on the task at hand to the exclusion of any outward distractions which could divert attention away from either text or football. Whether the action is one of work or play doesn’t matter; you can see, through Kolkin’s art, the mindfulness in the faces of both boys. “Seldom using a tripod,” he tells us, “I rely on one camera, one lens, and natural light.” Kolkin, wearing dark clothes, makes sure he blends into the background so that whatever he captures on camera is naturally unfolding, and that the human subjects remain quite unselfconscious as he works, their concentration undisturbed. “I learned to be quick and invisible,” he says, “discovering that true spirits can only be captured that way.”

The result is photographs that make readers think they are actually there; there’s an immediacy in the presentation of the subjects which renders them somehow free of temporal and regional constraint. Location doesn’t really matter at all. The majority of them were taken in Bhutan and China, but there are also photographs from Japan, Cambodia, India, Myanmar, Nepal, Taiwan, Vietnam and even a couple from the United States, demonstrating the universality of Kolkin’s subject-matter. He rarely uses color; black-and-white seems to capture all that we need to see, but words are somehow inadequate to state exactly what this might be. Perhaps that is why textual explanations are kept to a bare minimum—words would simply place limits on what can be seen and understood.

Each of the eighteen chapters in this book illustrates a different aspect of life in Buddhist communities, ranging from “Seeking Balance” to “Living Enlightenment”, prefaced by Kolkin’s thoughts on the chapter’s subject-matter. He has had personal contact with many of the people in the photographs and immerses himself in the communities; he does not simply examine them from the outside but seeks to communicate the inner meaning of their life. A simple photograph of a prostrate monk’s bare feet is captioned “Committed to the Path”. Vegetable oil being poured into a lamp is entitled “Feeding the Sacred”. There are so many more images which stay with us: the young monk lovingly cradling a dog, the stupa with eyes painted on its base, the many depictions of joy and laughter.

The objective is to show readers what contemplation actually looks like as it is taking place, and how it’s reflected in movement and gesture as well as in stillness and silence. For example, Kolkin includes a section on “Sounding the Sacred”, where we can see monks playing

 

Deep-throated horns

Tuned to the cosmos

 

as the poem specially written by Paula Arai puts it. If you’ve ever heard that sound, you won’t soon forget it; as Kolkin says, “Ethereal sounds allure you into depths of being, infusing you with sublime emotions.” Towards the end of the book Kolkin includes two striking photographs highlighting the presence of the Dalai Lama, the “Being of Peace”, as the caption states, but equally interesting is the study of those who are in his presence, which Kolkin simply labels “Inspired”. Kolkin has produced a book that is simply inspirational in its own right.

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John Butler recently retired as Associate Professor of Humanities at the University College of the North in The Pas, Manitoba, Canada, and has taught at universities in Canada, Nigeria and Japan. He specializes in early modern travel-literature (especially Asian travel) and seventeenth-century intellectual history. His books include an edition of Sir Thomas Herbert’s Travels in Africa, Persia and Asia the Great (2012) and most recently an edition of Sir Paul Rycaut's Present State of the Ottoman Empire (1667) and a book of essays, Off the Beaten Track: Essays on Unknown Travel Writers.