What does being present look like? What does it feel like? Taste like? Even sound like?
I recently read a quote by Pierre Soulages that said:
“I am against limitations like perspective. Perspective is illusion, it’s the opposite of presence, and art is presence.”
After reading this, I once again pondered the mere anomaly of art and its difficulty to define. What is art for me? What do I see art as? I see it as a psychoanalysis of its creator—a way to study the being behind it. An artist, when creating art, is centered on oneself. In essence, art is a vain depiction of the subconscious. Only once the artist looks back on their creation can they judge this, can they see themselves.
Their creation is a mirror to their mind. Art is introspection through presence.
This introspection became difficult for me when I traveled abroad to Sumatra, Indonesia. My trip was to consist of a 6-day trek into the Gunung Leuser National Park to observe the people of the forest—the orangutan. But I couldn’t clear my head. I could see, but could not observe. It was as if my brain was firing neurons off of strange photons, captured through someone else’s cornea. For the first few days of the trip, all I could do was pass between moments without expression or mood. I saw an abundance of wildlife—but I didn’t feel the joy I was hoping for.
On the third night of the trek, we settled into our campsite along the banks of the river. There was an area with a fast-moving current where we jumped in and floated downstream. After a few people had their go, I chose to stay in.
I walked into the current, resisting the water pushing me back. I focused my attention on my legs, my core, and the position of my arms, testing where I could move to strengthen my stance. Little by little, I edged my way into the strongest part of the current until it rushed against my chest, throwing me off balance and sending me with the flow of the water. Over and over I did this. While I was determined to win, I never did. And that was comforting. I found a presence there.
Once dislodged and uncontrolled, I then became a settling stone on the bottom of the strong stream.
Presence smells like the trunk of the tea tree. It looks like the burnt orange of an orangutan’s hair. It sounds like frogs warning each other of coming rain. It feels like water flowing over your shoulders.
Presence is identifying with the sum of creation. It’s recognizing your friends in your reflection. It’s joy with every squeak of existence and loving with persistence.
It is what art is.
View from Bridge Looking Up River
Taken in Bukit Lawang. What I saw while crossing the highest and most precarious bridge across the river. From here I received my first grand-scale perspective of the jungle we would enter the following day. The village seemed divided from this vantage point. On one side stood lodges and accommodations for tourists, while scattered concrete shacks with tin roofs were on the outskirts. I felt conflicted seeing the difference between the tourist areas and local areas without knowing the full story of this community.
View from Bridge Looking Down River
Bridges built by locals using various materials connect the communities north and south of the river.
Swallows Perched on the Mossy Tin Roof
Watching the swallows swoop over the river was one of the most captivating sights. The sharp angles of their wings and the v-cut of their tail feathers were shapes I loved to focus on. They paused on this mossy rooftop just long enough for me to compose and expose a shot.
Up River Trail
Walking upriver from our guesthouse, there was a trail that continued into the forest. It was mostly used by locals to carry large black rubber tubes upriver for tourists finishing their treks. They also used the path to haul building materials for the bungalows and eco-lodges being constructed—accommodations devoted to more sustainable tourism in the region. While following that path I came across this tunnel, dug out of the cliff’s edge. For me, being surrounded by the earth is the most comforting feeling. I spent many minutes listening to the river while standing inside this outcrop.
Guesthouse Boys Going for a Swim
On their breaks, these three boys would jump off this rock and ride the river current down to the accommodation. They worked at the front desk and prepared our food, including the best fried bananas I have ever had. They asked me to take their photo and wanted to see it afterward. I showed them the back of my camera which to their surprise did not have a screen. Through the language barrier, I tried to explain the concept of film photography to them, but it didn’t seem they understood.
Cutting Fruit
Beneath the canopy of the rainforest, the air is thick enough to puncture with a knife and drink like a fallen coconut from a tree. Instead, our guides sliced us an assortment of fruit as a mid-hike snack. We chewed and slurped our sweat into sweet submission, as we devoured pineapple, passionfruit, bananas, and oranges.
I had never had passionfruit prior to this hike, and I couldn’t help but sheepishly giggle at the provocative nature of its consumption.
Reconnecting with Her Jungle
One thing I find marvelous about feminine energy is its empathy—its ability to connect. In this moment, I strongly recognized that energy in Hayli and was compelled to capture it. This was the first campsite we came to during our hike. We were surrounded by dense forest broken up momentarily by this river. Dipping our sweat-soaked bodies into the fresh water was more than refreshing.
It was a baptism and reawakening into the present splendor.
Indra Looking for Rocks for Carving
The river bed was made of perfectly rounded and smooth rocks of various shapes and materials. Indra and the other guides would find clay pieces flattened and compressed by the river and carve orangutan faces into them. I also attempted the craft but was not as successful.
Jess Modeling Camp Life Attire
The chosen clothes of a woman after emerging from the treachery of the jungle. We hung our clothes to dry each day, even though they never did. After our river baths, we would slip into something more comfortable and dry while lounging around camp for the remainder of the day. Most often mismatched ensembles were the only available choice.
Indra Tying Up Vines
Indra was one of a few people in our group who brought hammocks. Along with some of the other guides, he tried to use vines and rope to hang it across the river, which was a distance of about 15 yards. While they were not successful, I enjoyed seeing their ingenuity, creativity, and determination, and made a pledge to myself to always pursue a life that would refine these characteristics in me.
Lisa Reading During a Quiet Afternoon Upstream
One afternoon, we had the option to stay at camp or go for a shorter trek. Lisa (pictured), Klohie, and I took the day to ourselves to walk up the river. I took a dip in a deeper spot beneath a small waterfall. We settled here for awhile to take in our surroundings. On the way, back a large orange butterfly swooped in and fluttered around us. I call moments like these blessings. Every time a butterfly comes into my personal space—or that of a friend—I consider this a blessing.
Mother and Child
These two orangutans came into our campsite and hung around for a couple of hours while we ate breakfast and prepared to leave. Our guides had dumped leftover rice at the base of a tree across the river, which inevitably attracted the people of the forest. We were close enough that if orangutan and human reached out, they would have touched one another. At one point in her life, the mother was in human custody for her own safety, so she was acclimated to our presence. Her baby was not, however, and would scamper away as the mama got closer. This is a really good thing as it means the child is retaining its wild instincts.
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