Bischoff, who in 1976 told Paul Karlstrom: “I’m still supporting myself by teaching,” had only two one man shows before his first New York show at Staempfli Gallery in 1960, including a 1955 show at the Paul Kantor Gallery in Los Angeles from which nothing sold. In contrast, leading artists in New York benefitted from a booming art market. For example, Willem de Kooning’s 1959 New York show sold out on the first day, bringing in about $150,000 (about $1.2 million dollars today, when adjusted for inflation).
Of course, de Kooning was a sensation, but many other New York artists sold well while California artists struggled. In this situation, decently paying teaching jobs were a rare and precious commodity. When it was rumored in 1955 that David Park had been offered $10,000 per year to teach at UC Berkeley, artist Nathan Oliveira – who at the time was earning $2.50 per hour teaching art 18 hours per week – thought that Park had been given “the opportunity of a lifetime.” As it turns out, Park’s actual starting annual salary was $5,300.00.
Elmer Bischoff Seated Figure in Garden 1958 Oil on canvas 47 ¾ × 56 3/4in. Whitney Museum of American Art, New York
Once upon a time, there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day, his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.
“Maybe,” the farmer replied.
The next morning, the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful!” the neighbors exclaimed.
“Maybe,” replied the old man.
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.
“Maybe,” answered the farmer.
The day after that, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.
“Maybe,” said the farmer.
Moral: This story reminds us that opinions and judgments are often hasty and incomplete. What seems good or bad in the moment may shift with time. A Zen attitude invites us to see things without clinging to rigid opinions.
“I write about my own work because I want to speak for myself. I might not be the only authority, nor the best authority, but I want to participate in the writing of my own history. Why should artists be validated by outside authorities. I don’t like being paternalised and colonised by every Tom, Dick or Harry that comes along (male or female).”
Marlene Dumas Miss January 1997 oil on canvas 110 ¼ x 39 3⁄8 in. Price realised USD 13,635,000
Hogen, a Chinese Zen teacher, lived alone in a small temple in the country. One day four traveling monks appeared and asked if they might make a fire in his yard to warm themselves.
While they were building the fire, Hogen heard them arguing about subjectivity and objectivity. He joined them and said: There is a big stone. Do you consider it to be inside or outside your mind?’
One of the monks replied: ‘From the Buddhist viewpoint everything is an objectification of mind, so I would say that the stone is inside my mind.’
‘Your head must feel very heavy’, observed Hogen. ‘if you are carrying around a stone like that in your mind.’
When Bankei was preaching at Ryumon temple, a Shinshu priest, who believed in salvation through repetition of the name of the Buddha of Love, was jealous of his large audience and wanted to debate with him.
Bankei was in the midst of a talk when the priest appeared, but the fellow made such a disturbance that Bankei stopped his discourse and asked about the noise.
“The founder of our sect,” boasted the priest, “had such miraculous powers that he held a brush in his hand on one bank of the river, his attendant held up a paper on the other bank, and the teacher wrote the holy name of Amida through the air. Can you do such a wonderful thing?”
Bankei replied lightly: “Perhaps your fox can perform that trick, but that is not the manner of Zen. My miracle is that when I feel hungry I eat, and when I feel thirsty I drink.”
Bischoff, who in 1976 told Paul Karlstrom: “I’m still supporting myself by teaching,” had only two one man shows before his first New York show at Staempfli Gallery in 1960, including a 1955 show at the Paul Kantor Gallery in Los Angeles from which nothing sold. In contrast, leading artists in New York benefitted from a booming art market. For example, Willem de Kooning’s 1959 New York show sold out on the first day, bringing in about $150,000 (about $1.2 million dollars today, when adjusted for inflation).
Of course, de Kooning was a sensation, but many other New York artists sold well while California artists struggled. In this situation, decently paying teaching jobs were a rare and precious commodity. When it was rumored in 1955 that David Park had been offered $10,000 per year to teach at UC Berkeley, artist Nathan Oliveira – who at the time was earning $2.50 per hour teaching art 18 hours per week – thought that Park had been given “the opportunity of a lifetime.” As it turns out, Park’s actual starting annual salary was $5,300.00.
Elmer Bischoff Orange Sweater 1955 Oil on canvas 48 ½ in. x 57 in. SFMoMA collections
In Zen practice, death is not considered important in the conventional sense because Zen emphasizes direct experience of reality beyond concepts, including life and death. Zen points to the present moment as the only true reality, rather than being attached to the past or future, including concerns about death.
Here are a few key reasons why death is not a central concern in Zen:
No Fixed Self – Zen teaches that the self is not a fixed, separate entity but a fluid, interconnected part of existence. If there is no solid “self,” then who is there to die?
Life and Death Are One – Rather than seeing life and death as opposing forces, Zen regards them as two aspects of the same reality. Dogen Zenji, the founder of Soto Zen, wrote about shoji (life-death) as a seamless flow rather than two separate states.
Impermanence Is Fundamental – Everything is constantly changing, and clinging to permanence creates suffering. By fully accepting impermanence, fear of death loses its grip.
Living Fully in the Present – Zen emphasizes complete presence in each moment. Since death is not happening now, focusing on it distracts from experiencing life completely.
Direct Experience Over Concepts – Zen discourages excessive thinking about abstract concepts like death and instead encourages direct experience of reality as it is.
This doesn’t mean Zen ignores death—it acknowledges it as a natural part of existence. However, instead of fixating on it, Zen practice encourages embracing life fully, letting go of fear, and experiencing each moment completely.
“To better understand and address jealous feelings, we need to look deeper into what causes them. Jealousy is often rooted in insecurities and fears that a person may not even realize they have. These could include fear of oversimplification, fear of inadequacy, fear of abandonment, fear of being replaced, and fear of being judged. By recognizing what lies beneath jealous behaviors, we can look into ways to manage them better.”
Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing in it to steal.
Ryokan returned and caught him. “You may have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you shoud not return emptyhanded. Please take my clothes as a gift.”
The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away.
Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow, ” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
When Bankei was preaching at Ryumon temple, a Shinshu priest, who believed in salvation through repetition of the name of the Buddha of Love, was jealous of his large audience and wanted to debate with him.
Bankei was in the midst of a talk when the priest appeared, but the fellow made such a disturbance that Bankei stopped his discourse and asked about the noise.
“The founder of our sect,” boasted the priest, “had such miraculous powers that he held a brush in his hand on one bank of the river, his attendant held up a paper on the other bank, and the teacher wrote the holy name of Amida through the air. Can you do such a wonderful thing?”
Bankei replied lightly: “Perhaps your fox can perform that trick, but that is not the manner of Zen. My miracle is that when I feel hungry I eat, and when I feel thirsty I drink.”
“People, buying my stuff, can take it wherever they go and can rebuild it if they choose. If they keep it in their heads, that’s fine too. They don’t have to buy it to have it – they can just have it by knowing it.”
Lawrence Weiner PUSH AS IF & LEFT AS IS 2012 language and the materials referred to. Dimensions variable.
