In December 1967, during the cold of winter, Brian arrived in Korea for the first time as a public health volunteer. He was assigned to a health sub-center located in Byeonsan, Buan, Jeollabuk-do Province. At that time, Korea was still an underdeveloped country, yet to embark on its modernization process. Furthermore, in the countryside at the time, facilities were minimal. Coming from an industrial society, however, Brian was immediately attracted to Byeonsan’s natural beauty, untouched by modern development, and the genuineness and kindness of country people and an agricultural society. His love for Korea continued to deepen as a result of his interaction with local residents while working at both the Byeonsan Health Sub-center and the Buan-gun County Health Center, mainly in tuberculosis control.
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Introduction to Buddhism
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In Byeonsan, Brian stayed in a home of a large farming family (“one of the many great blessings of my life”), where he came to learn that his landlady was called a “Great Bodhisattva,” an enlightened Buddhist who endeavors to alleviate the suffering of all beings. The elderly woman treated him like her youngest son, providing meals, teaching him the language one word at a time, doing his laundry and everything else she could to make his adjustment as easy as possible.
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“She was so warmhearted and so caring. She never refused anyone who asked for help. She would bring in hungry people from the road and feed them. She was a real practicing Buddhist. The monks of Wolmyeongam Hermitage, up on the mountain behind the village, often came by to visit, and would call her ‘Great Bodhisattva.’ Of course at first I had no idea what that meant.”
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His “Korean mother” would have a profound impact on the direction of Brian’s life. Thanks to her, he came to learn about Buddha and Buddhism. Ultimately, his involvement with Buddhism would be a life-changing influence.
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Brian returned to the United States after completing his two-and-a-half year assignment in Korea, including six months at the North Cheju Health Center. However, at home Korea kept tugging at his heartstrings, and he returned. People often ask him why he decided to return. To this, he responds with a wry smile: “The clanging of kkwaenggwari [small hand-held gong] stuck with me. I couldn’t get away from it. It was that sound in my head that lured me to come back!”
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Of course, other factors played a part as well, including the close bonds, warm affection, and community-mindedness of the Buan residents, which could not be so readily experienced at home; his passion for Jeollado food; and his love of farmers’ band music, which never failed to uplift his spirits. Indeed, Brian Barry, whether aware of it or not, had become a true Korean at heart.
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Naturally, the longer that he remained in Korea, the more attached he became to the people and culture. One day he went to a samulnori (traditional percussion quartet) performance. Fascinated by its vibrant spontaneity, he decided to learn how to play farmers’ band music. He joined an Udogut farmers band in Seoul from Jeollabuk-do Province and started to play kkwaenggwari with mirthful delight. He also studied Chinese characters so that he could read Buddhist scriptures, which led him to study calligraphy as well. Over time, he became more knowledgeable about Korea’s culture than even most Koreans, through a kind of natural transformation process, or as he calls it, “osmosis.”
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In his everyday life, he was constantly on the move. In the morning, he learned and practiced kkwaenggwari with his music teacher, and practiced Chinese characters and calligraphy; in the afternoon, he worked as a corporate international PR consultant and translator “to keep kimchi on the table”; and in the evening, he studied Buddhism. Moreover, as his understanding of Korean culture deepened, he became more passionate about its introduction to the outside world, and thus spent an increasing amount of time on its global promotion through translations and art work. Eventually, people came to refer to Brian as an “international public relations specialist,” “Buddhist translator,” and “advocate of Korean culture.”
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Several decades elapsed during the course of his immersion in things Korean. Brian says that a good part of his adult life has passed by without him hardly noticing. He often meets people who ask him why he keeps himself so busy. However, he does not see it as “busy,” just as doing what comes naturally. In Korea, he has met people from various walks of life, learned about Korea, and delved into numerous aspects of Korean culture, but all of this resulted from a natural flow of his life. “The other day it occurred to me that life is like a puzzle. You’re born with all the pieces, but it takes time to put them all together!” To friends who complain about their hectic lives, he says with a bemused expression: “Where’s the fire? Do you think you’re going to live a thousand years, ten thousand years? Take some time to enjoy life!”
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Path to Buddhist Painting
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In 1986, Brian visited Bongwonsa Temple as an interpreter for an American architect who was interested in viewing the eaves of a Buddhist temple painted with dancheong (colorful cosmic design patterns). As it turned out, this proved to be a turning point in Brian’s life. At that time, he was already quite well versed in Buddhism, but he had not paid much attention to dancheong or Buddhist paintings. Nevertheless, upon viewing the dancheong patterns on the eaves and the paintings in the temple, he was so overwhelmed that he felt like his heart had stopped and his entire body was frozen.
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The decorative patterns were resplendent as a whole, while not a single element stood out to disrupt the balance; the details were extremely intricate but also radiant with a harmonious elegance. Moreover, the Buddhist paintings that he came across in the temple, although somewhat faded due to exposure, further added to the dignified atmosphere. While standing in front of the paintings, he experienced an epiphany that all the time he had spent in Korea was so that he would eventually come to this propitious moment at Bongwonsa Temple. Enthralled, he set out on yet another new journey.
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Brian sought out Master Manbong (1910-2006), a dancheong specialist who had been designated transmitter of Important Intangible Cultural Property No. 48 of Korea. When he visited the temple again to meet Master Manbong, one of the master’s assistants asked him if he would prostrate himself before the much older monk. Brian immediately lowered himself to the floor and expressed his ardent desire to learn Buddhist painting. Master Manbong was willing to accept this strange blue-eyed foreigner as one of his students since he spoke Korean, had taken the Buddhist Precepts, and was certified as Jogye Order’s first Western Dharma Instructor. However, there was much doubt about the newcomer among the other students, who believed that a foreigner would never be able to endure the hardships and learn the intricate skills of the training regimen.
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Indeed, learning Buddhist painting proved to be extremely demanding. Every day, Brian had to sit on the floor and draw out thousands of siwangcho line drawings. Early on, after each session, his entire body would ache and every joint throbbed with pain. Due to these and other study rigors, he almost gave up several times. But as soon as he left the temple, the vivid siwangcho images remained in his mind and he had to return. He thought to himself: “This must be either some kind of an addiction, or my calling.” In the end, Brian stuck it out for more than 20 years. And while many of the students, who had been skeptical about his commitment, would eventually leave the studio, he continued to learn from and serve Master Manbong until his passing in 2006.
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Traditional and Modern Paintings
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Brian produces two types of Buddhist paintings: traditional temple paintings, and modern interpretations of traditional Buddhist themes. He refers to his work not as “paintings” but as “offerings.” The paintings that he does, whether traditional or modern, are his offerings in gratitude to the Buddha and to the Korean people for everything they have taught him. And in the Buddhist tradition, he always offers the merit from such paintings to the wellness and happiness of all beings throughout the universes.
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Brian has donated his paintings to temples in several other countries as well as in Korea. In 1999, he visited Wat Suthat Thepwararam, a royal temple in Bangkok. While looking over a huge mural of Former Lives of the Buddha that completely absorbed him, the Temple Master approached and asked him about his understanding of Buddhist paintings. Brian then showed the monk photographs of his own paintings. After the monk had gazed at one particular photo, he asked Brian to paint some similar dancheong patterns to the sides of the Buddha in the Preaching Hall. He returned several months later and stayed there in the monastery at Wat Suthat for three months to do the work. “I lived in Paradise for three months,” he says with a wistful smile.
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The fact that a Westerner had been asked to do Buddhist painting for a traditional royal temple was an unprecedented event in the history of Buddhism in Thailand. Moreover, the project was covered by CNN International and aired worldwide. Says Brian, “When I saw the tape later, there was something strange about it, and then I realized that I had been speaking English with a Jeolla-do accent!” Other paintings outside of Korea include the Main Platform Painting at Haeinsa Temple’s Jakarta Dharma Center and at Gobulsa Temple in California; a rendering of “Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara in White” and other paintings at Munsusa Temple, and ink drawings at the Cambridge Zen Center, both in Boston, his hometown; “Bodhidharma” at Dalmasa Temple in Moscow; and recently completed Guardian paintings for Wonmyeongsa Temple in Bangladesh and Buddhanara Temple in St. Louis.
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Brian donates his traditional Buddhist paintings to temples, while he uses his modern-style paintings for the propagation of Buddhism. He also does many Bodhidharma and Oriental Zodiac ink drawings as gifts for friends and neighbors. Whenever someone offers to make a payment for a painting, Brian usually declines, saying that he cannot place a price on a Buddha-related work. Even for a painting that requires several months of work, he never thinks twice about donating it to a new temple or one in need.
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Some people have suggested that he reproduce the Buddhist paintings of the Goryeo Dynasty, which are considered to be of higher artistic value and more advanced in technique than those of the Joseon Dynasty. However, Brian believes that while the Goryeo paintings are quite regal and elegant, the latter tradition appeals more to ordinary people and are thus a more effective means for sparking their interest in Buddhism. And in accordance with his mentor’s teaching, small paintings of Buddha are just as important as large-scale works. “Buddhas are buddhas and bodhisattvas are bodhisattvas.”
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Grateful for Korean Experiences
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Migratory birds will undertake lengthy journeys by relying on their instinct alone. Brian says that, for him as well, it must have been some kind of instinct that led him to Korea. Attracted by an unknown force, he came to Korea from the other side of the world, met a bodhisattva, had a life-changing encounter with Buddhism, and eventually became a Buddhist painter.
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Most people might think of his experience as unusual, but he thinks it has been a natural flow of his life, as part of a journey that he has found to be as enjoyable and rewarding as it has been difficult. He believes that the course of his life, as an international public relations consultant, copywriter, translator of books on Buddhism and Korean culture, founding member of Lotus Lantern International Buddhist Center, and the first certified Western Dharma instructor in Korean Buddhism have all been along a path that led to his calling as a Buddhist painter. So, he is eternally grateful to all the people he has met along the way.
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His home/studio—“Cave of Avalokitesvara”—is nestled in a little valley in northern Seoul and filled with the scents of incense and paints. His balcony looks out across a forested alley to a Buddhist temple which features a huge panel with the Chinese character 心 (sim), which means “heart” or “mind”, at the entrance. On the floor again with brushes in his hand, Brian embarks on his daily journey to the Buddhist Land of Happiness. Of his lifelong journey, all he can say is, “Once you open your heart, anything is possible.”
Brian Barry 선생님의 Koreana 잡지와의 인터뷰기사입니다.
