Inspired by Kyoto

An Offering to the Immortal Force of Compassion and Mercy

Essay courtesy of Maxine Lu, the wife of Tom Doncourt

Editing support by Daniel Coogan and Lisa Schell, photo courtesy of Chuck Bernklau

“Sanjusangen-do! It is hard to hold on to the beauty of the moments.

Videos, photos, drawings…nothing will really do it.”

“Catching the glimmer in the giant Kannon’s crystal eye

The dust hanging on the elaborate jewelry from the upper ranks of the Bodhisattva army

The weight of the feeling of a thousand years…”

My husband Tom, an artist, poet, and musician, wrote these words in his journal after his last trip to Japan and while creating one of his last works of art, a painting of the Kannon army of bodhisattvas in the Sanjusangen-do Temple in Kyoto, Japan.

Tom was a senior preparator at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. He built and installed many pieces for the museum, some of which he created out of wood, his favorite medium. Before working at the Museum of Natural History, Tom was a carpenter.

Over the last twenty years of his life, Tom visited Kyoto four times but his interest in Japan began as a young man when he came across images of temples and Buddhas at his local public library. He treasured those images and memorized the information about them. He assumed that the temples and their contents were so special that they must be in remote monasteries, closed to the general public. Upon further research, he found that they were in Kyoto, and several of them were open to the public. Many years later, I made arrangements for his first trip to Japan. Long before he finished the painting of the bodhisattva army, Tom had committed himself to make art as an offering to the
Kannon army at the Sanjusangen-do Temple.

“I want to make works as a kind of offering to his immortal force of compassion and mercy. It is a quality that I find most “desirable” in all philosophies, whether Christian, Muslim, or Buddhist. It has to do with the state of sensitivity that also leads me to make art. One must “see” the world, be sensitive to it. When you know how things really are, how they flow together like a great stream, how can you not feel compassion? Making this art will help me personally. It is a good thing to do. Perhaps I will work on it slowly over a course of years.”

In the eighteen years after that commitment, he made several sculptures, created a small garden, wrote songs, made videos, and painted under the influence of his discoveries in Kyoto. One of the many songs Tom wrote is Philosopher’s Path,” a song about a path we walked together during our first trip to Kyoto. He made videos of the running water, finding the sound to his liking. As he often did as a child, he made a leaf boat and watched it travel quickly down the
canal. On the path we discovered the delightful Otoyo-jinja Shrine, a shrine devoted to mice. Unbeknownst to us, the mouse we saw was carrying sacred sake, a symbolic celebration of good harvests and happy childbirth. What a blessing this was, since Wendy, our only child, was on the way. We passed the red bibbed Jizo statues, the Buddhist patron deity of children and travelers.

Three years ago, when Tom was diagnosed

with incurable pulmonary fibrosis from

working in carpentry during his youth and

with substances such as resin and fiberglass,

we immediately made plans to return to Kyoto

while Tom was still able to travel.

At the Sanjusangen-do Temple he not only

saw the many figures at Sanjusangen-do

Temple but also the many hollow wooden

blocks that were carved to create each figure.

He noted the lacquer and the gold leaf. He spent much time contemplating the sacred

space within each figure.

In the cool, dark, reverent hall of the Sanjusangen-do, he stood drawing on a

large cream-colored sketch pad. The window

at that particular spot was open, casting a

light diffused by a white rice paper screen.

The light shone on the nearby Kannons of

 Mercy, enabling him to draw their details.

He said, “These are Bodhisattvas of healing

and compassion.... we can’t have too many of

 them.”

“ I stood in that hall, Sanjusangen-do, for five

or so hours over two visits to capture two

drawings. The drawings are simply to as certain

a composition from my own point of view for

paintings.”

When he returned home from Japan for the

last time, he completed the painting of the Bodhisattva army in two years. He passed

away shortly thereafter.

“I love Japan so much it brings tears to my eyes.”