I followed the obvious path which had been laid out as it meandered away from the entry. After some twenty yards I discovered the waterfall, a branch off the path led a short distance to a stone bench. A hand sized rock had been placed in the center of the main path ahead of me indicating that I should take this branch instead. The bench was cut and smoothed out of a boulder about the size of a love seat. Upon the seat lay a tray holding an oriental style teapot and cup. I picked up the tray and sat down with the proffered drink to experience the tranquil atmosphere produced by the waterfall.

As I poured the steaming liquid into the cup, I could tell by the aroma and the color I was being served a common style Japanese green leaf tea. I decided to change my sitting position. I set the tray aside and folded my legs under myself. I retrieved the tray, balanced it on my lap, and rested my lower back against the smoothed out indentation of the boulder. I passed the cup under my nose to experience the aroma, blew on the surface of the tea and watched the steam billow away from me towards the small waterfall. I took my first sip. As an odd astringency clamped down upon my salivary glands and the heat began to wound my tongue, I savored the slight bitterness of the leaf.

I couldn't tell you how long I sat enjoying the bouquet of the tea, the floral surroundings, and the low burble of the waterfall. I'd become so relaxed I didn’t notice I had drifted into a meditative state. Within this heightened perception I began to see the character inherent within each and every experience. The colors grew brighter, the sounds were sharper, and the smells became clear and distinct. I could even feel my heart pounding out rhythmic affinity. My thoughts closed off to let my `energy' reach out to the surroundings. With sudden inspiration, the memory of my day reflected back to me that the ugliness which surrounds this inner beauty is in itself a kind of necessary characterization; not just for practical purposes as a kind of ‘cloak of invisibility’ but also for the simple truth that Chaos has its balances, if at last, only in the minds of individuals.

At some point in my reverie I detected a movement off to my right. As I turned my head to get a better look, I noticed a young oriental woman. She motioned that I follow her. She led me upon another path which wound its way under the second story `box' and to a stairway leading up to it. Upon the landing, this mystery figure gestured that I use the simple wooden chair placed just aside of the stairs, then she turned away from me towards a night table nearby. After placing a towel and washcloth over her left shoulder, she picked up a wide shallow basin and returned. She placed the basin to the right of my feet, then knelt upon her knees directly in front of me and proceeded to remove my shoes and socks and place them to my left. Then she rolled up my pant legs to about mid calf. Without a word being spoken, or eye contact ever being made during this whole event, she began to wash my feet. It was very sensual. My heart was pounding by the time she dried my feet, placed silk slippers upon them and motioned that I enter through the door to my right. Darkness was just settling in.

I never saw her again, even to this day, but I will never forget the deep almond color of her skin, the slim shape of her body, the sure gracefulness of her movements, and the sweet delicate aroma of her floral perfume.

The room beyond the door had the qualities of an art museum, but there was a thick aroma of sandalwood incense. The situation created a pattern of associations in my mind which suggested it was a place of contemplation. (This was the moment when I recognized that Gilbert was providing, for me, his version of the Japanese Tea Ceremony. It was his way of purposefully molding my mind for the revelation of his proposal.)

Directly opposite the door was the centerpiece: three paintings hinged together as one, with the two outer paintings set at angles to the center panel, giving the impression that the work as a whole was reaching out to viewers, embracing them within its boundaries.

Describing visual images, especially paintings, is always an exercise in futility. When I was a kid, I had a friend tell me about a variation on the Christian symbol of the fish. He described it to me as a fish with legs and the name `Darwin' written inside the body of it. He said it made him laugh the first time he saw it on the back of a car his mother was following. When he told me about it and described it, I wasn't amused. It didn't seem like such a big deal. Then I saw it myself and it made me laugh too. A good visual image is an experience in itself, beyond words or retelling.

top