Monk Photography: The Secular of the Non-Secular

The face behind the wooden-framed glass, separated by a layer of years.

A team carrying banner poles walks on the snow.

Amid the vast green fields, a boy in red holds up a pure passion.

The shuttlecock pauses midair, his one foot supporting the entire afternoon.

The shovel stands on the tip of his nose, blue gloves spread open, like a bird perched in the alley.

The Silent Sun

His name is Qure Taxi.
You can also call him "Still Sun" —
The silent sun.

Qure Taxi

In 1997, he was born in Gande, Golog.

He became a monk as a child and entered Golog Long'en Monastery,

beginning his search for the vision deep within his own heart.

The maroon monk's robe soaks in the light splashed by the stream, a horse's mane swings into an arc.

Now, he is furthering his studies at Longwu Grand Monastery in Amdo Rebgong.

In his spare time after his studies, he uses the narrow path of photography

to find a way to converse with the world.

The red-robed monk strides quickly through the doorway carrying a vermilion long pole, the person under the eaves steps back half a pace.

So, he later also became

a member of the Huangnan Prefecture Photographers Association in Qinghai Province.

His works — about distant mountains and pastoral areas,

the skies above monasteries and villages —

are scattered across social media,

seen by different people.

The autumn gold covers the flagstone path, the monk and the black ox walk on separate sides.

Uncle's Camera

 

Speaking of his fateful connection with photography,

the initial spark came from one of his uncles.

His uncle had a camera,

and in the eyes of the young Qure Taxi,

that was the most wondrous thing.

The photos developed from it

seemed like an entrance to another world.

He said his uncle was probably the earliest

photography artist in his village.

Through the ruined walls of time, gazing at the stillness beyond the mortal world.

From then on, he began using the lens of a basic mobile phone

to see the outside world.

That feeling was like a hazy childhood memory

suddenly awakened — joy and astonishment

becoming one.

The Potala Palace presses against the yellow-toned distance.

Not an aesthetic game

 

Some people understand photographs as

color collages where sorrow and joy intertwine,

spread out before the eyes — a vibrant tapestry that stirs the heart.

Others see them merely as an external aesthetic game,

with no connection to inner feeling,

like a cold corpse.

Two monastic robes, one large and one small, dash along the road against the light.

But for Qure Taxi,

photography is far more than that.

Beyond the external beauty of the subject,

he wants to know even more: What are those experiences touched by the heart,

those joys and sorrows retrieved from the soul,

truly like? It is precisely this intense longing

that has made him hopelessly captivated by photography.

The green-faced wrathful deity stands on the steps, his dance steps rising like startled thunder.

The extraordinary within the ordinary

 

But after falling in love with photography, difficulties followed.

On the path of photography, there are countless hardships.

The greatest difficulty

is procuring equipment and basic gear.

Even harder than that is financial hardship.

The dharma drum and copper cymbals resound, the footsteps of the skeleton dancer raise a wisp of blue smoke.

He grew up in monasteries and pastoral areas.

When he first stepped into a realm he had never entered before,

the rejection and lack of understanding from those around him

was the most disheartening thing.

It was a feeling of walls on all sides.

A masked person stands in the broken doorframe, the light outside pulling his shadow into the muddy ground.

But he always felt that if we don't have enough vision and dedication

even for a small thing,

then our true ideals will ultimately become empty talk.

Amid the floating light and shattered ice, a lone boat ferries through the lonely cold.

Speaking of what photography has brought him, it is simple to say.

In these day-after-day journeys,

those faces that do not belong to the everyday,

those unexposed moments of ease —

extracting them from ordinary life

and turning them into an extraordinary existence —

this itself is a kind of gain.

A handful of tranquility hides among the red robes and the smoke of daily fire.

Light and shadow are a mirror of retrospection.

 

His most intimate feeling is light and shadow.

To taste all things that emerge in light and shadow

with a visionary heart,

to blend the beauty of the environment with human nature —

this is difficult.

The autumn light gilds everything gold, the old and young walk home hand in hand, a dog follows behind.

But he says a photograph is a living memory.
You could also say it is a mirror of retrospection.
It allows you to see again the life of your youth,
and can also unfold and smooth out the feelings of your elder years.

Six faces emerge from the darkness, smiles lighting up one after another.

He wants to use images to construct those

unspeakable languages that hide deep within people's hearts in daily life.

Let them, before the viewers' eyes —

whether crying or laughing —

pour out unexpectedly.

The young monk laughs, showing a whole row of teeth, the plastic bag in his hand running along with him.

In the long river of ethnic tradition

 

He says, in experiencing the joys and sorrows of life,

it is not merely to win applause and cheers.

To give one's own heart to the soul of art.

The ceremonial canopy hangs like a sun above the ocean of monks.

In the long river of ethnic tradition,

to set a patch upon some blank space —

this is perhaps the purest white khata we can offer,

and also the fullest expression of an ordinary person's heart.

The red-robed monk turns his back to the mortal world, gazing at the painting of the cycle of existence.