A Zen Garden ‘Grows’ In Springs

A man in a long black skirt and a white tunic appears at the gate to his garden and rings a gong, saying matter-of-factly, “If he doesn’t like the way I hit the gong, he won’t let me in.”

Who is “he,” and, more important, who is this man wearing such an unusual outfit and looking a bit like a Japanese spiritual leader?

It turns out that “he” is the sentinel who guards the garden, actually a mask hung above the gate. As for the garden’s owner, he’s Peter Gamby, appearing not at all as he typically does in casual clothes. On this sunny Sunday morning, he seems, well, somewhat imposing.

Soon the reasons become apparent. This is the entrance to Mr. Gamby’s oasis, his place of peace and contentment. It is his Zen garden—more specifically, a sand and gravel garden like those found in Zen monasteries, or karesansui in Japanese.

It’s on a fascinating parcel of land overlooking Hog Creek in Springs. The artist Julie Small-Gamby and her husband, a photographer, were drawn to the view—both the creek and its marshland—when they bought their home in 1987. The element of “live scenery” is important, because the kind of Zen that Mr. Gamby practices requires backgrounds.

The garden itself reflects the principles of wabi-sabi, a Japanese aesthetic based on the acceptance of imperfection and transience. Symmetry and color are avoided in favor of simplicity, asymmetry and intimacy.

Large and small stones abound, retrieved by Mr. Gamby from a local quarry. Hinoki cypress and mugo pines are standouts while water streams from a fountain, small but still noticeable.

Barely noticeable are abstract ripples in the sand, so subtle and minimal are the markings. Mr. Gamby explained that he rakes the sand from time to time, especially after it rains, and that the abstract patterns that emerge are spontaneous.

There is one rather large rock he picked up in the neighborhood, marked with a single diagonal cut running through it. This cut establishes a dynamic pattern, sharply defined unlike the shapes in the sand. A Japanese lantern, with different-sized rocks piled on top of each other, comprises another stone formation, shipped by Ms. Small-Gamby, from Japan. The rocks seem fragile and precariously balanced, yet they are also stable and strong, just like the Zen garden.

The stones are not positioned randomly; rather, very deliberately. As Mr. Gamby puts it, “It’s important where you put things. You have to listen to the objects, like the rocks. They will tell you where they go.”

He picked up a 700-year-old Samurai bow and aimed an arrow at a target at the far end of the garden, almost hitting the mark. Smiling, he said, “You may not hit the target, but you cannot miss.”

Ms. Small-Gamby spent a year in Japan teaching children of American Air Force families. It so happens the art she creates art often complements Zen principles. For instance, her earlier sculptures were monochromatic, and her work generally is very tactile, mirroring the textural markings in the sand. Early sculptures of wire screen covered by wax and stained with earth are other potent tactile examples, as are later paintings where material is attached to the canvas. (Such later works appeared in the 2011 Parrish Art Museum’s exhibit “Artists Choose Artists.”) Another painting in her home, “Slicing Through,” proves the continuity of texture and recalls the rocks that predominate in the Zen garden.

More recent paintings, however, go in another direction—her abstract shapes often retain their asymmetry, have lots of color.

“I like to start fresh, to explore the unknown,” Ms. Small-Gamby said.

Mr. Gamby’s photographs also reflect certain aspects of the garden. His landscapes are permeated with an absence of time and place. One image features a car wreck on the beach—the shapes and composition are well defined; but don’t explain the when or where of things. In another ambiguous and placeless photograph, figures dressed in raincoats walk by a waterfall.

In the garden, in the house, and in the views, the concept of Zen permeates one’s experience, “When people go to a restaurant, they shouldn’t read the menu,” Mr. Gamby said. “You have to taste the food.”