From Chan to Zen in 15 Centuries

Illustration Sirichai

A religion that spawns its own aesthetic is rather like a rock star coming out with a line of fragrances; it’s not what they’re typically known for. Still, no one can deny that Zen Buddhism is associated with an immediately recognizable look, a visual sensibility. How did this come to be?

Chan Buddhism, the progenitor of Zen, was developed in China in the sixth century A.D. While Buddhism was an Indian belief system, Chan was influenced by a local philosophy, the Chinese folk religion of Taoism, which emphasizes simplicity, harmony with nature, and a general sense of go-with-the-flow.

Another distinguishing feature of Chan was that it had a labor component to it, which arose as a result of its Chinese origin. While Buddhist monks in India were mendicants and wanderers, in China it was decided that monks should park their asses in temples and monasteries. These compounds don’t maintain themselves—someone had to sweep the grounds, grow the food in the gardens and take out the trash—and the Chans weren’t exactly in a position to subcontract this stuff out. So it fell on the monks to do the “housework,” as it were, which they then incorporated into the discipline.

Chan Buddhism spread throughout Vietnam and Korea, eventually making its way to Japan by the 13th century, where it was called Zen. Zen Buddhists adopted the gardening habits of their Chinese forebears, and under their evolution, the gardens became aesthetic exercises in themselves, meant to reinforce a sense of tranquility. The karesansui, or dry, style of garden became popular.

Zen monks studying in China often returned with samples of Chinese art. In the 14th century they brought back “ink and wash” paintings, a monochromatic style of landscape paintings popular during the Song Dynasty, that held special appeal for Zen Buddhists. The style was called sumi-e in Japan. Sumi-e drawings use only black ink, and in line with Zen principles, the negative space is as important as the positive, which leads to sparse compositions and suggestions rather than renderings.

Other Zen qualities stemming from its emphasis on meditation were simplicity, naturalness, and purity. With these qualities Zen went on to influence many elements of Japanese life, including poetry, martial arts, calligraphy, ceramics, flower arrangement, and drama.

By the 20th century Zen had made its way to the United States, popularized by scholars like D.T. Suzuki, author of the seminal An Introduction to Zen Buddhism. In 1957 Alan Watts, a sort of academic drifter smitten by Buddhism, published The Way of Zen. Watts was a scholar with a background in theology who had studied Buddhism in London and New York. The Way of Zen sold well and put Watts squarely on the lecture circuit, where he often spoke of the aesthetic qualities of Zen and its potential effect on architecture, art, and even cuisine.

In the 1960s, Zen, or particular aspects of it, caught the attention of American hippies and counterculturals, helped in part by people like Watts and by Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums, which featured a Zen-leaning main character. More books were written on the subject and notions of Zen began to trickle into popular consciousness.

Today, the American marketing machine has turned Zen into a catchphrase that can be attached to health spas, nightclubs, MP3 players, and renegade basketball coaches. It has become terminology for designers seeking to transpose the spartan trappings of a Buddhist monastery onto high-end hotels and chic boutiques, a sort of false minimalism that comes from adding expensive materials rather than subtracting what is ultimately unnecessary.

It is a supreme irony that Zen has become cultural shorthand for an easy-to-grasp aesthetic, when actual Zen Buddhism is renowned for its opacity and elusiveness. A popular Zen fable goes as follows (paraphrased):

A man interested in attaining enlightenment came to a Zen master. “I want to study Zen, I want enlightenment,” he said. “How long will it take me?”

“Ten years,” replied the master.

“No way,” said the man. “Too long. I’ll work hard at it, I’ll really study it. I’ll put in ten hours a day, every day. Then how long will it take me?”

The master thought about it.

“Twenty years,” he said.