This post “Nature’s Calligraphy: The Art of Seeing” features a series of photos of ducks and swans. While it might look like a typical summer update, it illustrates a theme I’ve discussed before: we see how we think. [1]
What occupies our mind shapes our vision. Looking at these photos, you can easily tell what was driving me artistically at the exact moment I pressed the shutter—whether it was a tourist photo, minimalism, calligraphy, or traditional Chinese painting.
The sequence of the pictures also reveals something else: the process of letting go. It traces my development from fullness toward minimalism, the attempt to make do with less. The first photo was taken years ago, back when abundance still seemed important to me.
Lake Hallstatt, Austria: This early photograph reflects my former preference for visual abundance. The detailed landscape and the swans capture a time before my artistic focus shifted toward minimalism.
Nature as ultimate Teacher
No matter how expressionistic or abstract my paintings might get, one thing remains true: nature is the best teacher. How could it be otherwise? This applies to color just as much as to composition.
The fluid ripples and the interplay of light transform the water’s surface into a natural canvas. This scene perfectly mirrors the dynamic brushstrokes and rhythmic energy found in traditional Chinese ink painting.
For many years, I missed out on enjoying the spring. There was always something more important to do. Besides, ever since my youth, I had this nightmare scenario in my head: ending up as an old man sitting in a park feeding pigeons.
Well, it hasn’t come to that yet. But watching ducks and swans in their environment and following the visual dialogue that unfolds is a joy I can no longer resist. So today, it’s all about the birds.
I wish you all a cool, relaxed summer!
Off to see the ducks!
The sharp focus on the foreground duck’s feather patterns provides a strong visual anchor, while its body forms a dynamic diagonal that directs the eye upward. This energy is then seamlessly continued by the graceful curve of the rear duck’s neck as it preens, demonstrating the core principle of guiding ‘qi’ through rhythmic forms and intentional composition.This striking contrast between the dark, textured adults and the light, fluffy cygnets demonstrates the core ‘yin’ and ‘yang’ balances in natural composition. Placed against a wide, uniform ‘void’ of water, the visual dialogue between abundance and simplicity becomes almost tangible.Gliding across the empty expanse of the water, the dark swan and its bright cygnets are perfectly spaced like musical notes on an invisible staff. This visual melody demonstrates how a strong, anchoring form and a delicate, rhythmic sequence can create natural harmony within the void.The hanging willow branches blur the line between physical reality and reflection, resembling a spontaneous web of ink strokes. This scene beautifully illustrates how nature provides the ultimate blueprint for calligraphic rhythm and abstract composition.The swirling reflections transform the water’s surface into a study of abstract expressionism, closely mirroring the dynamic, wet brushstrokes of Chinese ink painting. The duck acts as a solid anchor within this fluid chaos, demonstrating nature’s effortless balance between form and the formless.
Scene Change
Here, nature strips the scene down to pure horizontal lines and contrasting blocks of color. The water’s surface acts as a canvas where deep shadows and bright reflections mirror a strict minimalist approach.The perfectly still water of Hubertussee [2] mirrors the boathouse and forest, effortlessly capturing nature’s quiet balance of yin and yang.A single duck leaves a sharp, horizontal wake across the dark reflections, resembling a solitary, unhesitating brushstroke. This scene perfectly captures the essence of minimalism, demonstrating how one simple focal point can define the vastness of the empty space around it.
Finale Grande
These final two images beautifully capture the core balance of yin and yang, where a bold, vertical reflection cuts through the water like a heavy, deliberate brushstroke. As the birds glide across this stark divide, they serve as a quiet reminder that the most compelling compositions emerge naturally from the simple harmony of opposing forces.
I have been simultaneously working on several projects (one of which is another surprise), so much so that I am finding little time to reply to all of my commenters, let alone reading all of their posts.
Thank you for publishing this photographic essay to explore and convey your artistic sensibility and visual narrative. Through what you conceived as “Nature’s Calligraphy” and construed as “The Art of Seeing”, I for one can sense your aesthetic perspective of (re)presenting or (de)positing a transcultural shift from Western dualistic representation to an Eastern, monistic model of applied philosophy via ink painting, emphasizing the phenomenological distinction between superficial “looking” and profound “seeing”, whilst being highly perceptive towards “Nature as ultimate Teacher”, and towards the appreciation of minimalism as well as the Chinese concept of Wu Wei (無為), rooted in “inexertion”, “inaction” or “effortless action”, from which clarity and subtlety in/of perception and creation may emerge. In addition, your post seems to suggest that artistic praxis, specifically (that pertaining to) the unmediated, irreversible calligraphic stroke, can function as an embodied, Daoist-influenced Gan Ying (感應 resonance) that transforms natural landscape into psychological interiority. In Chinese aesthetics, Gan Ying (感應) defines the artistic act as an energetic resonance rather than imitation, insofar as painters and calligraphers align with cosmic Qi (氣) to produce irreversible brushwork that merges the subject with the landscape. Rooted in Yihua (一畫 single stroke) and concepts from the Huai Nan Zi (淮南子) and Yi Jing (易經), this philosophical framework bridges the gap between material reality and subjective experience, sharing parallels with Western enactivist theories whilst functioning on a broader ontological scale.
As for the theme of “we see how we think”, I would like to resonate with you as follows:
Thank you so much, dear SoundEagle 🦅ೋღஜஇ! Your explanation perfectly captures the essence of my post! I didn’t want to go into too much detail to avoid causing too much confusion.
Yes, Gan Ying (感應 resonance), or Qiyun shengdong (气韵生动 spiritual resonance), which I’ve written about several times before, are essential elements, not only in Chinese painting. So many things are interconnected. And as you rightly say: “We don’t see things as they are; we see them as we are.” Perhaps one only truly becomes aware of this with age.
Best of luck with your projects! Enjoy what I hope will be a beautiful summer!
Sincerely, 狐胡
PS: The meaning of 狐胡 is fox beard (a little Chinese boy who could only speak a few syllables called me that because I had a reddish beard).
Xuhu (also written as “Guhu”) was one of the thirty-six kingdoms of the Western Regions. Its historical sites are located in the area south of Dabancheng and Bogda Mountain in the northwest of Turpan City, Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, China. According to the precise records in the “Book of Han, Records of the Western Regions,” the historical geographical coordinates and population background of this kingdom are as follows: Geographical location: The king’s administrative centre was located in Liugu, Cheshi (approximately north of present-day Turpan City, Xinjiang, near Dabancheng, Urumqi). Spatial distance: In the Han Dynasty, this place was 8,200 li from the capital Chang’an, and 1,147 li southwest of the Protectorate General of the Western Regions. Size of the kingdom: Xuhu was a very small nomadic regime with 55 registered households, 264 people, and 45 archers. Historical fate: It was under the jurisdiction of the Protectorate General of the Western Regions and the Chief Administrator of the Western Regions, and was one of the “Six Kingdoms of Cheshi.” Later, due to geopolitical conflicts, it was annexed by the powerful neighboring Cheshi. To delve deeper into the geopolitical value of the Huhu Kingdom within the Western Regions along the Silk Road, we can advance our research from the following dimensions: We can retrieve a geopolitical distribution map of the six kingdoms of Cheshi to analyse how the Huhu Kingdom survived amidst the combined forces of Cheshi, the Xiongnu, and the Han Dynasty. We can examine the modern archaeological excavation report of Dabancheng (Liugu) to search for tangible artifacts evidence of nomadic culture during the Han Dynasty. We can conduct a cross-cultural comparative study of the micro-nomadic city-states of the Western Regions and the city-state politics (Polis) of ancient Greece.
Therefore, I have now included both English translations of your art name in my post entitled “👁️ Visualizing 🎼🎹—THE—🎹—LAST—🎹—RAG—🎹🎵🎶 with SoundEagle🦅 音鷹 and Friedrich Zettl 狐胡 🎨“. By the way, please be informed that I have made another reply to you in the said post a day or two ago.
We do have another thing in common — that our art names are homonyms (同音異義字), namely, 音鷹 (SoundEagleyīn yīng) and 狐胡 (Fox Beard or Foxi Kingdomhú hú). Strictly speaking, the two Chinese characters of mine are nearly the same but not identical in pronunciation.
Does it in any way mean or imply that my being 音鷹 makes me 陰, and your being 狐胡 makes you 陽? Are we a 陰陽 pair?
Thank you so much, SoundEagle🦅, yes, I’m aware of the other meaning of “Hu Hu” and I think it’s quite fitting. Yes, we both use homonyms. That’s not the only thing that connects us.
A fabulous post, Friedrich. Thank you. I love that you take an everyday scene (feeding ducks in the park; it could be anyone, young or old) and using it to think about art, philosophy and more! I agree with Soundeagle’s note that we see as we are! So, when we go to an exhibition of painting (and more) every individual might see something very different and that is just amazing to consider!
👏🙏👏🙏
Thank you so much, Ashley! Yes, isn’t it fascinating that we often see something completely different and assume others see the same as we? Even more so, that we perceive, for example, a painting from 20 years ago completely differently than we do today? I wish you a relaxing and joyful summer!🙏
The photograph, “hanging willow branches … resembling a spontaneous web” seems to hold stillness as it reflects back upon itself, and yet it is so full of movement and sound for me. It invites my eye to wander rather than being told where to look, all within a curtain of various shades of green. But it’s also something else: it’s peering through to somewhere, somewhere hidden from sight. A doorway. An arch. A threshold that’s also a mirror. Interestingly, the frame is full (unlike the others) but it is singular in its subject so it is minimalism, too (I think).
I really do love this photo, and I hope it inspires your brush. May your summer be a joy, Friedrich.
Thank you so much, dear Marilyn! Your analysis is spot on, as always! I was almost going to show an example of how I created the willow branches scene before I even saw it nature :):
Leaving here on Wednesday, just as another heatwave starts, and driving north for Denmark and Sweden. Family; friends; beach, and proper rye bread for three weeks.
Thanks a bunch! Although I am aware of the low quality of my photos. I do have a better camera and still use an old one…Hope it’s cool over there ☃️🏖️🍷
You’re so very welcome, my friend! I’m glad to know that… they left for 10 days on vacation and I miss my little cozy cat (still no name 😂) but I need the time and prep time for my mums big bd bash… thanks a lot and take good care of you!
❤️❣️
Hallo lieber Friedrich, dein Gedanke, dass wir sehen, wie wir denken, hat mir besonders gefallen. Vielleicht ist Fotografieren tatsächlich weniger ein Festhalten der Wirklichkeit als eine Momentaufnahme der eigenen Aufmerksamkeit. Das Motiv bleibt dasselbe – und doch verändert sich mit dem Blick plötzlich die ganze Welt.
Spannend finde ich auch deinen Weg vom „Mehr“ zum „Weniger“. Minimalismus wirkt oft einfacher, ist aber in Wahrheit anspruchsvoller: Weglassen verlangt meist mehr Vertrauen als Hinzufügen. Und wenn am Ende ein einzelner Schwan oder ein paar kalligrafische Linien auf dem Wasser genügen, um ein Bild zu tragen, dann ist das keine Reduktion, sondern Konzentration.
Und ganz nebenbei sind deine Fotos wieder einmal großartig – nicht nur technisch, sondern vor allem, weil sie den Betrachter dazu einladen, etwas länger hinzusehen. Das ist heute vielleicht die seltenste Kunst überhaupt. 😉
Entschuldige bitte die verspätete Antwort, liebe Rosie! (Ich habe versucht, der Hitze zu entfliehen). Vielen Dank für Deine freundlichen Worte. Ja, ich sehe es genauso. Für einige, wie mich, ist das Fotografieren oft eine Momentaufnahme der Achtsamkeit. Meine Fotos taugen nicht viel, also solche, da ich kein Fotograf bin, aber vielleicht gelingt es mir manchmal, etwas einzufangen, das “daneben” existiert. Ja, Minimalsimus muss man sich erarbeiten – wobei “arbeiten” nicht der richtige Term ist. Bei mir ging es vor allem über die Musik: Hören, was zwischen 2 Tönen passiert. Wo ist ein Ton zu Ende? Wie verändert er sich? Und derlei Spinnereien.
Auch Dir herzliche Sommergruesse! Ich hoffe, die Hitze ist freundlich zu Dir! LG f
Hi Friedrich. I had to come back to read the post again. Thoughts jangled after reading first time, because it left a massive impression. I went away thinking of photography experiences and the way we pick up the camera and subsequently choose what is in front of our eyes. Then I got that horrible tooth abscess which knocked the well being out to touch and all day to day intentions kind of evaporated.
You take a view on the first photograph. Most of my views captures were taken thinking I could catch the splendour of what is being seen in the broader experience. All this expanse of wonder and beauty in front of my eyes. But regularly became disappointed on getting the photographic prints back. Close up imagery of reindeer moss on rocks, mushrooms or toadstools climbing bark, the specific isolated journey of a ripple of water, etc. These were the ‘keepers’. The broader photograph themes? They could work, but in the consistency of a unique theme catch. Dune grass that wove its interactive wind dance, caught en masse, across a large area. The sea on a day of calm with just the view of its silvery light.
And back to your words here. Spot on. They truly resonated more with the second read and are even more delightful.
I can see you feeding pigeons holding a ‘tuppence a bag’ of seeds. But never as your only choice in life. Once the seeds scattered ? You’d see intentional shapes resulting from the chaos born from your good intentions, return home and realise a subsequently related piece of art.
Thanks Gray, for your kind words! Yes, panoramic photos are more difficult than one might think. In the moment of taking the picture, you’re usually too caught up in the overall beauty, in what we’re experiencing right now. Later, for others and for ourselves, that appeal isn’t so strong anymore.
I hope your tooth abscess has cleared up. Have a wonderful summer! Warmly, f 🙏🏽🍁🍂
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