Hide and Reveal
Once I’ve passed the garden’s visual threshold, the splash of a fountain emerges on the left. I turn my head to discover only a shady corner. My eyes adapt slowly to the darkness: a thin strip of running water becomes distinguishable. As I approach it, I catch a glimpse of another tsukubai (“washbasin”). It is positioned behind a wooden wall, dripping more lightly.This time I see the water but I cannot hear it: its delicate trickle is masked by the noise of the steadier stream. I go around the corner, leaving the first basin behind. Here, the wooden wall separating the two basins creates an acoustic shadow: the soft, high-pitched water jet becomes audible behind the dull and diffuse splash of the bigger one. I turn back and follow a path to the lower garden.The unmasked songs of the crickets grow louder, dragging me deeper into the garden. The audiovisual labyrinth continues. Navigating the garden’s paths, it occurs to me that I am experiencing an audiovisual miegakure (“hide and reveal”): A sound reveals what the vision hides; the vision reveals what a sound hides. In this way, the design of the garden makes productive use of the differences between visual and sonic spatiality. Through visual and acoustic barriers, it creates a distinct rhythm. Eyes and ears alternate in guiding my path through the garden—an infinite route? I never reach an actual end or even a center—only new acoustic or visual branches, which may lead me along new branches: a rhizome par excellence.The entirety of the garden will never be seen or heard.
Shisen-Do, June 2015
Text & Sound: Ludwig Berger
Animation: Matthias Vollmer
