A way is a portal with legs.
Entryway. Alleyway. Archway. Pathway. Doorway. Waterway. Gateway. Stairway. Subway. Highway. Street. Trail. Seam.
We like to experience a way as a means to get from place to place. Even when we sit in the cafe or on a park bench and people-watch the path in front of us is a conveyor belt. It's our servant, it provides us with entertainment. Until, that is, someone stops and looks back at us.
Then it becomes theater, a place where important things are revealed or hidden. It's no longer just a way station, a place between events, an escape from events.
In a visual representation a way is not separate from the whole scene. There is no doubt that it is not merely a transit point. Its connections to the events happening around it or on it or perhaps because of it are obvious.
We pass through a portal, past and future are suspended and then, perhaps, past is left behind (perhaps future as well!). A way has a before and after -- a past and future -- as well as a present. We are on it and we are coming from somewhere and we are going somewhere: all time is held in the photograph of a way.
Then, while we're observing the scene and being in the scene, time is splintered and we're left with presence.
Entryway. Alleyway. Archway. Pathway. Doorway. Waterway. Gateway. Stairway. Subway. Highway. Street. Trail. Seam.
We like to experience a way as a means to get from place to place. Even when we sit in the cafe or on a park bench and people-watch the path in front of us is a conveyor belt. It's our servant, it provides us with entertainment. Until, that is, someone stops and looks back at us.
Then it becomes theater, a place where important things are revealed or hidden. It's no longer just a way station, a place between events, an escape from events.
In a visual representation a way is not separate from the whole scene. There is no doubt that it is not merely a transit point. Its connections to the events happening around it or on it or perhaps because of it are obvious.
We pass through a portal, past and future are suspended and then, perhaps, past is left behind (perhaps future as well!). A way has a before and after -- a past and future -- as well as a present. We are on it and we are coming from somewhere and we are going somewhere: all time is held in the photograph of a way.
Then, while we're observing the scene and being in the scene, time is splintered and we're left with presence.