The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven (12 page)

Things progressed, and when it came time to mount the exhibition, I went to many of the lenders, picked up the pieces, and drove them to Cambridge. The staff at the Hayden mounted the exhibition and Karl and I made our comments as to placement, sequence, etc. The opening was in the spring of 1975. The Boston Dharmadhatu presented a “Dharma Festival”—a week of various events. The opening was delightful, to my memory. Bruce McDonald, the curator from the Hayden, was totally great as was his assistant.

For me, it was the beginning of my education in Asian art. I had never really looked at a thangka before, and I became very interested in the art, particularly from the viewpoint of iconography. In retrospect, we now know a lot more about Tibetan painting and sculpture. Rinpoche knew what he was looking at but he was not an art historian. Nevertheless, his introduction remains an important document on the relation of the art of spirituality and practice.
⁶²

As in so many other areas of his artistic involvement, Chögyam Trungpa used this artistic undertaking as an opportunity to create a learning environment for a group of students. Jean Thies’s description of the group energy involved in working with him is reminiscent of other times described by his students in this introduction: Ludwik Turzanski talking about the Explorers of the Phenomenal World creating dharma art installations with him, Lee Worley and Jean-Claude van Itallie describing the theater conference, and Johanna Demetrakas and Baird Bryant speaking about the Milarepa Film Project. Rinpoche was often unwilling to describe himself or focus the attention on himself as “the artist.” This was not because he lacked confidence in his abilities but because he regarded the identification of oneself in that way as limiting and somewhat ego-enhancing. In relationship to these group undertakings, he also hesitated to emphasize his role as the artist. In discussing the dharma art installation at the LAICA Gallery, Rinpoche commented, “I don’t consider myself as an artist, per se, at all. I don’t regard myself as the author of this exhibition, obviously, but I feel very good about it, nonetheless. I am more proud of and pleased with the people around me, who have created the environment, than I am with myself.” Clearly, this ability to delight in including others in the artistic enterprise was part of this man’s genius. When one reads the memoirs of the students who worked closely with him, one gets the impression that he created huge artistic “happenings” for people—events where people’s perceptions and frameworks were immeasurably enlarged.

As we conclude Volume Seven, dealing with art and artistic process, and move to Volume Eight, which presents Chögyam Trungpa’s teachings on the Shambhala path of warriorship, we will also see a progression in Rinpoche’s life and thought, as he became more and more interested in linking art with culture and society. One can easily see this in the movement from creating individual works of art, such as calligraphies and flower arrangements, to the interest in creating larger environmental installations. Beyond that, however, Rinpoche was interested in a much bigger project: he was interested in dharma art as a force in the creation of culture and society—and not just any society but an enlightened society. In a sense, he was taking the Japanese idea of
do,
or art as a way, beyond even its understanding in Japanese culture. He was essentially saying that art can create a world.

I asked one of the main designers who worked with Chögyam Trungpa over many years, Gina Etra Stick, quoted already above, to write about their design work together, to give some flavor of the broader implications and the scope of his design work.
⁶³
Gina’s remarks help to tie together the various elements in Volume Seven and point us to the journey that lies beyond, in the Shambhala teachings:

. . . the Vidyadhara [Chögyam Trungpa] set about designing a world. In my opinion, this activity of design was not just limited to art in the conventional sense. This activity was absolutely pervasive: there was nothing outside of this umbrella. Like the peeling of an onion to reveal essence, the intrinsic goodness within every situation can be revealed, and everything is included in sacredness. Like a thangka, there is no shadow for dirty laundry: everything is illuminated. So, in other words,
any
and
every
embodiment of the sacred
is
dharma art: dharma art is the language of sacredness.

The Vidyadhara designed anything and everything, according to the structure and boundaries of sacred world, embodying what I think of as patterns of enlightenment, patterns of awake, patterns liberating the power inherent in conventional life. We designed heraldry, flags, banners, and brocade. We designed environments: shrines, buildings, gardens, parties. We designed ourselves from the inside (meditation) and out: uniforms, pins, precious jewelry, and clothing. The Vidyadhara devised events and rituals to bring mindfulness-awareness practice, or meditation in action, to how we move, walk, talk, sing, socialize: a ritual is the attitude of sacredness brought to events.

He designed institutions, businesses, and our “corporate structure” into embodiments of his sadhana—his song of realization—flipping conventional structures into vehicles for spiritual practice and awakening. As exhilarating as this was, it was also totally claustrophobic: the Vidyadhara’s message was that there is no time off from sacred view. All situations of gathering, meeting, and socializing were demanding opportunities for invocation, transformation, practice, and waking up.

The design activity of the Vidyadhara was a major thread of his skillful means, teaching, and tireless effort to share with us his unique perception. . . . The goal of the Vidyadhara was not to create a perfect world. The goal was to create an environment that could accommodate and nurture the waking state of mind of the student warrior. The goal, as has been said, was the path: to include everything we usually discard as “not spiritual” into the practice. Dharma art is an ongoing journey to recover our ability to see the extraordinary beauty and meaning
within
ordinary life.
⁶⁴

I think of Volume Seven as a beacon, drawing people to an appreciation of Rinpoche as an artist. Many people who know him as a Buddhist teacher have no idea that he was involved in the arts at all. Yet this is a singularly important part of his contribution to dharma in America.
The Art of Calligraphy
is a wonderful showcase for his calligraphy, and
Dharma Art
brings together his ideas on art, artistic process, and aesthetics, but there is as yet no publication or other vehicle that fully captures and conveys the visual power and full expanse of his artistry. A coffee table book with full-color reproductions of his design work and dharma art installations would be a great step, along with quality color reproductions of his photographs. The completion of a film based on the principles of the Milarepa Film Project would also convey much more about Chögyam the artist, and further exhibits of his work and dharma art installations would both inform and provoke us to look further, not just at his work but more deeply into our own perception. For it is not purely to honor Rinpoche or to enshrine him as a great artist that additional offerings are called for. Rather, his work was intended to challenge us, to cheer us up, and to enliven our path through the world. It would be a great gift to many to see that his work is fully documented, so that it can be passed on, appreciated, and practiced in the future. In this regard, the work of his students is also extremely important. Those who studied closely with him need to be encouraged to discuss and show in greater depth what they learned from him and how they are now applying this in their own work.

In a sense, Chögyam Trungpa’s work as an artist was among the most revolutionary parts of his teaching. He truly believed that art can change the world. In this belief, he was focused not on the content of art but on how art can alter perception. If you can change the way people see the world, he taught, then they will change the world they live in. In essence, this is the premise of enlightened society. As he said in
The Art of Calligraphy:

We would like to organize and create a decent society. We could be slightly, positively arrogant by even saying “enlightened society.” . . . You have a tremendous responsibility: the first is to yourself, to become gentle and genuine; the second is to work for others in that same way. It is very important to realize how powerful all of us are. What we are doing may seem insignificant, but this notion of dharma art will be like an atomic bomb you carry in your mind.

Chögyam Trungpa saw the transformation of society as the means to help others on a much greater scale, never ignoring the individual’s place or responsibility, as he makes clear in the quote above, but joining that with the larger needs of a good human society. Art played, not a tangential, but an absolutely central role in that view.

Having fully incorporated the view of artistic disciplines as a way of awakening, Chögyam Trungpa turned to art as one of the tools in the warrior’s arsenal of wakefulness. Similarly, we turn from the consideration of Chögyam Trungpa as an artist in Volume Seven to his role as great warrior-king in Volume Eight, another extraordinary chapter in an altogether extraordinary life.

One may understand this last chapter of his life and teachings more easily if one keeps in mind, not only his dedication to truth and beauty, but also the sense of play and humor that is so evident throughout his artistic enterprises. Chögyam Trungpa was a man who saw lots to cheer you up in the phenomenal world. One can see how much
joy
he took in the making of movies, the writing of plays, the stroke of calligraphy, the heaven, earth, and man of arranging space. He joined joy and sadness in this dance of delight and was able to share with so many others the self-existing sense of humor he found in everyday life. As an artist, he loved the broad smile of reality. As a Shambhala warrior, he showed that this smile has teeth! To that experience we turn our attention in Volume Eight.

C
AROLYN
R
OSE
G
IMIAN

December 15, 2002

Trident Mountain House

Tatamagouche Mountain,

Nova Scotia

1
. Chögyam Trungpa’s poems in
The Rain of Wisdom,
which appear in Volume Six, are examples of poetry in the traditional Tibetan style.

2
.
Born in Tibet
(1977), p. 87.

3
. In India, he made the acquaintance of Tendzin Rongae, a master thangka painter. Rinpoche became close friends with the entire Rongae family. It may be that his training as a painter came out of this association. One of Tendzin’s sons, Noedup Rongae, has produced many important thangkas that hang in shrine rooms throughout the Shambhala community.

4
. Interview with Ato Rinpoche by Carolyn Rose Gimian for the Shambhala Archives, circa 1991.

5
. Chögyam Trungpa described how he took the photograph of Jamgön Kongtrül Rinpoche: “I was able to acquire a box camera in Tibet, and I got film and chemicals to develop film from China, and I took this very photograph by myself. I asked him, ‘Can I take your photograph?’ He said, ‘You don’t need to do that,’ and I said, I insist,’ and he said, ‘In that case, let me dress up.’ So he got his best brocade gown, shawl, and robe, and he sat in the upstairs of his house on the flat roof, and he said, ‘All right. Ready. Do it.’ . . . I was nervous about whether it was going to come out properly or not. But fortunately it came out. I took this photograph—what year could it be?—it’s probably 1954 or something like that. A friend of mine, another tulku, another rinpoche, showed me how to develop the film. So I took this photograph, and I developed it and printed it in his monastery’s library, which is a rather dark place. We put cloth over the window, and we developed the film by trial and error, and the photograph came out all right.” (
Collected Vajra Assemblies,
vol. 1, edited by Judith L. Lief and Sarah Coleman [Halifax: Vajradhatu Publications, 1990], p. 187.)

6
. This group of photographs is a good visual example of how Trungpa Rinpoche was working with what he later described as seeing and looking. See Dharma Art, “State of Mind,” for the discussion of this principle of dharma art.

7
. See
Kalapa Ikebana Newsletter,
Winter 1984, pp. 1–2.

8
.
Great Eastern Sun
(2001), pp. 152, 154.

9
. E-mail communication from Gina Etra Stick to Carolyn Rose Gimian, 2002.

10
. Written communication from Gina Etra Stick to Carolyn Rose Gimian, January 2002.

11
. I would like to thank Fabrice Midal for pointing out the importance of Chögyam Trungpa’s discussion of symbolism. He sent me a copy of remarks he made at a conference, entitled “Le symbolisme dans le bouddhisme tibétain,” in which he quotes Trungpa Rinpoche’s remarks on symbolism in
Dharma Art
and then comments: “Le symbolisme, montre-t-il, n’existe pas indépendamment de notre expérience. En réalité même elle est notre expérience.” Roughly translated, this comment reads: “He [Chögyam Trungpa] shows us that symbolism does not exist independent of our experience. In reality, it is no other than our experience.”