Zen in the Art of Archery (Eugen Herrigel, 1953)
96 pagesA deceptively simple and vital book written in 1953 by German author and Professor of Philosophy Eugen Herrigel, who sought to understand Zen through archery, "Zen in the Art of Archery" has him recounting his six-year training under Master Kenzo Awa in Japan (pre-WW2 period), as he cleverly expounds on not just the Eastern Philosophy of Zen Buddhism, but also the universally applicable techniques to master any art: archery, painting, filmmaking, but not necessarily pornography.
Some of the key ideas explored in this book include the power of concentration and observation and unceasing repetition to perfect an art. Herrigel makes a case for restoring ourselves to “childlikeness” and “not calculating and thinking” if we wish to achieve, as he put it, great works. Like the Meisner technique -- for Herrigel, who was in pursuit of the ‘Great Doctrine’ of art -- the book places great emphasis on actions derived from routine and spontaneity and, usually, years of practice.
What I found particularly useful is how, as he narrated experiences under his tough non-"Kill Bill" Master, Herrigel learned to remove self-consciousness from his art; how he came to depend not on environmental factors such as the appreciation of spectators, but rely rather on potent elements such as presence of mind, vitality and awareness.
For example: the approach in the book demands practice through repetition and a thorough understanding of self and with one’s material before a performance. Page 63 of the book captures this perfectly, and may just be the best advice for an actor feeling anxious before his/her performance:
…we again practiced with bow and arrow, these home exercises proved so fruitful that we were able to slip effortlessly into the state of “presence of mind.” We felt so secure in ourselves that we looked forward to the day of the test and the presence of spectators with equanimity.The percepts in “Zen in the Art of Archery” can be employed by any Artist aspiring to perfect control of his art: not in the least a sportsman or actor or writer (OK, even a porn star) who stands to reap exceptional benefits by allowing inspiration to come through -- as the book purports-- meticulous observation, practice, repetition, and repetition of the repeated with ever increasing intensity.
The prose may seem a little antiquated to some, but fits the high-mindedness of its author (he was a fucking philosopher after all) and the theme of the book.
