Thai Ways

Jing is a native of Bangkok, we know each other for 25 years. And, she still surprises me. We are on our way to lunch and almost there when all of a sudden she stops and asks: Do you want something from 7/11? No, I say. She opens the door, looks at me and says: No? I want air condition and in she goes ...

The timetable says that the train ride from Lat Krabang to Chachoengsao takes 43 minutes. The ticket counter opens ten minutes before departure. The ticket costs 7 Baht. My 100 Baht note seems to cause problems and so I look for change but all I have is a 5 Baht coin. Okay, okay, says the guy behind the counter and grabs my 5 Baht. That was most definitely my cheapest train ride ever ...

I felt truly excited that the breakfast buffet in my hotel included sushi ... and slightly less excited that the guy in front of me seemed determined to finish it off ...

At the bus station. One look and I knew this was the typical reckless driver. I was wrong, he proved to be considerate and really easy-going. For about ten minutes, that is. From then on he behaved exactly like the reckless driver I had imagined him to be. Sometimes, appearances do not deceive ...

In Bangsaen, I would like to inquire about the room rates but the middle-aged lady at the reception is busy on the phone. After eyeing me for a considerable while, she hands me what she seems to have decided were my room keys ...

"Hap acciden" is an expression often heard in Thailand and among the things that cause accidents motorbikes figure prominently. So I somewhat reluctantly chose one day to give it yet another try. That was in Pattaya. I was given a helmet that did not exactly fit my head but I nevertheless felt sort of reassured. And, it must be said, the young female driver also rode, as I had clearly demanded (that much Thai I know), rather slowly and so I felt considerably safe ... until her mobile phone rang which of course she answered ...

Pattaya is very probably the craziest place on earth. Literally every thing is for sale here, capitalism running riot. To me, it is the ideal place for having tailor-made pants and shirts at bargain prices. And, for the best and cheapest Thai food I can think of. It is however also a place that makes me rather often feel irritated, sad, and depressed.

Zora del Buonos Reisen zu alten Bäumen

Als Kind glaubte ich, dass wenn man einem Baum einen Ast abreisst, dem Baum damit weh tut, ihn verletzt, ihm eine Wunde zufügt. Ich hatte das von den Indianern, die glauben, dass alles belebt ist. Ob die Indianer das wirklich glauben, weiss ich nicht, doch ich glaubte es und glaube auch heute noch, dass, was wir als unbelebt bezeichnen, lebt – nicht so wie wir, aber irgendwie eben doch.

Daran fühlte ich mich erinnert, als ich in Zora del Buonos Reisen zu alten Bäumen von dem Seminolen Sam Thommie las, der meinte: "Everything is connected". Und das meint: nichts geschieht zufällig. Die Autorin legt sich diesbezüglich nicht fest. "... was unter der Erdoberfläche vor sich geht, kann man nur erahnen, Bäume derselben Art kooperieren oft durch ihre Wurzeln, kränkelt einer, unterstützt ihn der Nachbar mit Glukose und anderen Nährstoffen."

Die 1962 geborene Zora del Buono wuchs in Bari und Zürich auf und lebt seit 1987 in Berlin. Auch wenn man nicht weiss, dass sie Architektur studiert hat, dass sie vom exakten Gestalten geprägt worden ist, zeigt sich in ihrem Schreiben. Was ich von ihr gelesen habe, hat mich zum Fan werden lassen, am allerliebsten sind mir ihre Reiseerzählungen.

Das Leben der Mächtigen ist mit Reisen zu alten Bäumen untertitelt. Die Autorin hat Bäume aufgesucht, in Europa und Nordamerika. Zum Beispiel den Old Tjiko im Nationalpark Fulufjället, Provinz Dalarna, Schweden, 850 Meter ü.M. Mit neuneinhalbtausend Jahren ist diese Fichte der älteste Baum der Welt. Die Schilderung des beschwerlichen Marsches dorthin liest sich höchst aufschlussreich und gipfelt in einem Satz, der bei mir lautes Schmunzeln auslöst. "... es interessieren sich nicht viele Menschen für den alten Baum, der so gar nichts Imposantes an sich hat; wer einmal ein Bild von der mageren Fichte gesehen hat, ist meist enttäuscht, jede Dorfeiche ist beeindruckender, zudem dauert allein die Anfahrt aus Stockholm fünf Stunden, und so sind es meist Botaniker oder Freaks oder treehunter, die den Weg mit einem wenig Ortskundigen gehen, denn alleine findet man die Fichte nicht, was gut ist für den Baum, wer weiss, welcher Vandalismus ihn sonst ereilte, gefällt ist so ein dünner Geselle schnell."

Dem dreitausend und sechshundert Jahre alten Senator (einer Sumpfzypresse) im Big Tree Park, Longwood, Florida ist Crystal Meth zum Verhängnis geworden. Die junge, völlig zugedröhnte Sara Barnes ist in das teilweise hohle Innere des Stammes gekrochen, hantierte darin mit einem Feuerzeug, um das Tütchen mit Drogen zu betrachten ... der Rest ist Geschichte.

Den höchsten Baum der Welt, den hundertfünfzehn Meter hohen Küstenmammutbaum Hyperion in einem kalifornischen Wald (sein Standort wird geheim gehalten) hat sie nur auf Luftaufnahmen gesehen, dafür ist sie vor der "geradezu sagenhaft mythenfreien" Arve Muottas da Schlarigna im Engadin gestanden. Und wenn wir schon in der Schweiz sind, dann soll auch gerade noch auf die Linde von Linn in Bözberg, Kanton Aargau hingewiesen werden, nicht zuletzt, weil der Einstieg in die Schilderung dieser Sommer-Linde mich in einem Krimi wähnen liess:

"Als im September 1974 ein Helikopter in Heinrich Kohlers Garten landete, molk er gerade eine Kuh. Aus dem Stall sei er gerannt und rasch wieder zurück, um zu Ende zu melken, dann habe er die Überhose ausgezogen und sei in den Helikopter gestiegen. Den Piloten kannte er noch vom Militär, er war mit zwei Ärzten der Rettungsflugwacht unterwegs ...". Mehr soll hier nicht verraten werden, nur, dass der Kohler Heiri nie geheiratet hat, "obwohl es viele Ehemöglichkeitä gegeben habe, aber die Mutter hatte es jedes Mal zu verhindern gewusst; in vier Jahren wird er neunzig."

Fazit: Clever, witzig und auf vielfältige Art lehrreich. Intelligente Unterhaltung vom Feinsten!

Zora del Buono

Das Leben der Mächtigen

Reisen zu alten Bäumen

Naturkunden No. 22

Verlag Matthes & Seitz, Berlin 2015

Michael Kenna: Forms of Japan

"If someone says to you: 'I want to go to Japan because I've never been there', then this is a lie. For, of course, he has been there, otherwise he wouldn't know that he wants to go there. He has been in Japan because he knows pictures from Japan, and he wants to travel to the pictures that he knows", wrote German author Rainer Fabian in his highly recommendable novel Das Rauschen der Welt.

Yvonne Meyer-Lohr, who contributed the introduction to Michael Kenna's Forms of Japan, phrases it similarly: "I believe that I can recognise something typically Japanese at first glance. Unlike on my travels to most other countries, I already carried my pictures of Japan in my mind when I arrived there."

To me (I've so far been there only in my mind), Japan stands for Zen gardens, meditation, cherry blossom trees, tranquillity, clarity, and simplicity.

Fifteen years ago, when I started to develop a keen interest in photography, I routinely approached pictures by asking questions: what is this, what is that, why I'm shown this, why I'm shown that, what was on the photographer's mind, was there really something on his mind? And so on. I'm still asking myself such questions, especially when looking at press photographs for they routinely transport an often hidden agenda. When, however, I'm shown landscape pictures in a photo book I'm putting my questioning mind to rest (as best as I can) in favour of acknowledging the sensations I experience. There's basically just one question that then interests me: What is this picture doing to me?

Michael Kenna's photographs help me to contemplate things as they are. To me, they radiate a meditative quality. I can easily identify with what Yvonne Meyer-Lohr penned. "I first saw Michael Kenna's photographs of Hokkaido, snowy landscapes with individual trees, line drawings of fence posts and clouds in the sky above still waters that peter out in the distance. I looked at the photographs and discovered more. Expansiveness. Stillness. Emptiness. Space. Development. Change. Generosity. Reduction. Simplicity. Form."

One can feel that. Just look and see.

Given that I imagine the Japanese to be restless and efficient, riding tirelessly on bullet trains through the country, it seems strange and intriguing that I should think of these photographs as typically Japanese. Yet I do. For they bring me back to my younger years when I was flirting with Zen. And, they instill in me a longing for the kind of simplicity that calms the mind.

This isn't a book about Japan, it is a book about Forms of Japan. To me, these forms could be found anywhere yet for some reason I happily accept that they should be distinctly Japanese. It goes without saying that we do see in photographs what we bring to them.

"The belief that gods are an integrated part of the landscape is very meaningful to me", writes Michael Kenna and I strongly sympathise with him. "The land itself becomes a place of worship, in which to rest and meditate, and perhaps escape to, from the complications and noise of our fast-paced modern lives."

Michael Kenna / Yvonne Meyer-Lohr

Forms of Japan

Prestel; Munich, London, New York 2015

David Batchelder: Tideland

"David Batchelder made these photographs between 2010 and 2015 in the tidal zone on the beaches that fringe Isle of Palms, a small barrier island off Charleston, on the eastern coast of the United States. Unless you are an expert in geology or marine biology, you would not know this from looking at the images. Like much of our surroundings, these beaches could be many places in the world, and many more places in the mind", writes David Campany in his essay. 

The images in this tome were taken by a hand-held camera that David Batchelder pointed downwards. "The camera records and makes permanent a world in flux", as David Campany states, and one might wonder what exactly the role of the photographer is? I mean, does holding a camera make you a photographer?

Yes, it does. If you are doing it regularly (and not just occasionally). As a Finnish photography student once said to me: I can bake but that doesn't make me a baker. Baking for a living is making me a baker. In other words, if what you are doing most of the time revolves around taking pictures then you are a photographer.

For more, see my review on http://www.fstopmagazine.com/