Rise above the Water
Lotus grows in ponds, lakes and along the edges of streams. Its roots sit in the mud, its leaves rest on the water; only the flower rises above the water to open. In many places, the lotus has been given meaning. Buddhism takes it as a sign of enlightenment — rising from the mud unstained. In Hindu tradition, the creator god is born from a lotus. In Chinese literature it stands for the gentleman: straight within, unbranched, untangled. What people notice, most often, is that short distance between the muddy water the lotus grows from and the flower it never lets the mud touch. The first visit to the lotus pond came in full season. In one pond, bud, bloom and seed pod stood side by side — the whole life of a plant in a single morning. A flower opening makes no announcement; it simply gives itself, quietly, to the light. Only later did the things beyond the flower come into view: rain settling into the leaf, each drop in its place, while the furled leaf stayed dry; old leaves sheltering a young bud; a flower and its reflection, one facing up, one facing down. The flower is not the whole of the lotus — only the part that is seen first. These ten works record the lotus and its relationship with what surrounds it — mud, water, light, rain — and the place each one takes among them.