On the Kora Path: Faith, Images and the Journey of Practice
Within Tibetan culture, an invisible thread binds the spirits of devotees—their shared reverence for nature and devotion to the divine—even though the customs of Tibetan compatriots in the four regions of Amdo, Kham, Ü-Tsang, and Ngari vary. My work "On the Kora Path: Faith, Images, and the Journey of Practice" features these devotees. As representative subjects to photograph, I chose full-body shots of Khampa men to convey their bold spirit, and close-up details of Ngari compatriots to glimpse the light in their eyes.
My standing intention was to make use of the environment. At Ngari's Tashilhunpo Monastery, a locked crimson door served as a reliable companion for my lens. At the Xinzha Mani Stone City in Yushu, Qinghai, spinning prayer wheels functioned as backdrops for my compositions. In Amdo, I captured devotees looking through windows at distant mountains, turning the peaks into wordless captions. Behind the Potala's kora path, a mantra-carved stone wall accompanied my portraits.
To me, these photographs serve as mirrors. From that experience, I understood that photography goes beyond just capturing 'images'; it involves fortunate encounters with these loyal individuals—older people unsteady on their feet and those with mobility difficulties, who, though it was hard for them to move, willingly posed for my camera. They spoke little, merely smiling or gesturing at the lens.
Just as spiritual practice employs illusory images to cultivate true intention, the act of pressing the shutter arrests the present 'form,' and subsequently assembling albums or staging exhibitions uncovers that layer. Yet a lingering question remains: how can one create beautiful images without encroaching on their devotion? Perhaps this is something I shall continue to ponder.
My connection with Tibetan Land began fifteen years ago on my first visit to Tibet. Back then, my heart was full of worries—altitude sickness, the possibility of not being able to talk with locals, and even a secret search for 'what to pay attention to'. Yet these concerns vanished the instant I entered a Tibetan home: the hostess served butter tea, her fingers brushing the rim of the bowl, and the children's curious eyes were fixed on my camera.
Instead of letting me take many photos, they pulled me down to sit with them that day, while they spun wool and turned prayer wheels. Pressing a prayer wheel into my hands, the old man said, 'Follow its turn, and your heart will grow calm.' When I felt that cool copper cylinder, I realized Tibet was not merely a dot on the map but a place that could warm your soul. From then on, I constantly desired to capture such moments with my camera, and before I knew it, this had become the most important aspect of my photography.
I began taking photos as part of my office documentation work in my early years, which provided me with a basic foundation. It was in 2005 that I started pursuing photography seriously, eventually becoming a member of the Jiangsu Photographers Association and later the China Photographers Association. Yet neither of these achievements compares to the appeal Tibet holds for me—its landscapes, its people, and the faith that is interwoven into everyday life continually draw me back. Geographical Folds on the Kora Path As I traveled more, the differences became apparent to me over time. The Khampa people of Yushu stand out for their genuine audacity.
The people of Tongren in Amdo are truly warm-hearted. When they learned I wanted to take photos, they would adjust their Tibetan robes themselves, and some would even tighten the knives at their waists, saying, "This way, the photo looks spirited." After the shoot, they'd urge me to add them on WeChat—to this day, I see them posting about ripe barley or growing children, just like old friends. There's no distance in the way they regard me; even passersby would smile and nod.
The most genuine herders live in Shigatse. Their devotion to Buddha is carved into their very beings; every step of the kora is taken with absolute sincerity, never cutting corners. Because most could not speak Mandarin, they would get young villagers fluent in Putonghua to act as interpreters. Whether or not we were acquainted, after I took photos they would stuff pieces of wind-dried meat into my bag—too tough to chew, yet heartwarming. It was only in Lhasa that photography presented a slight challenge.
Perhaps the fast growth of the city has made inhabitants more cautious around unknown people. Occasionally, when I pointed my camera at them, they just waved me away and left. Over time, I came to see that in this place, faith is interwoven with the rush of daily existence, and they simply prefer not to be interrupted—which is entirely acceptable. Nevertheless, the most striking memory occurred in winter 2024 along Amdo's kora path. On that day, while a violent snowstorm blew and pilgrims drew their Tibetan robes tight, a group of young women carried on with their full-body prostrations.
Most wore expressions of quiet resolve, as if guided by an inner compass. One girl looked up, caught my eye, and greeted me with a smiling wave. In that moment, I understood that faith is not an oppressive burden but a mysterious strength that lets people keep smiling through a snowstorm. Snow pellets lashed their faces, their robes were encrusted with mud and ice, and their foreheads were raw from pressing the ground—yet none voiced any weariness. Everywhere I traveled, these people shared one thing in common: a solemn devotion to their faith.
Practice Beyond the Lens. After so many years of photographing Tibet, I now understand that these images are not meant only for others—they are my own spiritual practice. I truly believe the Tibetan saying, "reverence prevents arrogance, practice cultivates wisdom." The people who walk the kora and the ones who perform prostrations may not know grand philosophies, but an unshakable certainty lives in their hearts. Especially the nomads, whose eyes were utterly clear, like a moon that nothing obscures.
I plan to visit Tibet many more times in the days ahead, walking the kora path with my camera exactly as I did at the beginning, and carefully recording what I see and feel. Through my work, I hope to let more people witness this steadfastness—not to convince anyone into holding a belief, but to show that there truly are people in this world who live out their days as spiritual practice, grounded in simplicity and devotion. Transmitted through my lens, that certainty has become the light guiding my photographic journey.
Born in Yangzhong City, Jiangsu Province, Ge Hengyang is a photographer and member of the China Photographers Association. He mainly captures scenes from the Yangtze River basin and the cultural landscapes of the Tibetan Plateau. As he puts it, "If I can save just a few more remnants of Tibetan culture, that will suffice.
At the 6th China Fenghuang Folk Photography Biennale, 2023 *Risking Death to Eat Pufferfish* was among the group exhibitions; at the Wuhan Image Art Center in Hubei, *Khampa Appearances* was shown under 'Representative Works Exhibition Project'; and at the 15th China Photography Art Festival in Sanmenxia City, Henan, *Beautiful Encounters* appeared in 'AI New Creativity'.