The two great passions of Nicholas Vreeland’s life can, in a superficial sense, be termed contradictory. His love for photography (requiring one to look outward) and pull towards spirituality (the basis of which is to look inward) developed almost simultaneously, and in his collection, Photos for Rato — on display at the ICIA Gallery, Kala Ghoda, until January 26 — the two are married in a beautiful way. A selection of Nicholas’ photos taken across 26 years (13 of them spent as a monk at the Rato Dratsang in India), the Rato Collection is a stark, stunning essay of an extraordinary way of life, and one man’s vision of it.
Nicholas says he’s never thought of his two passions as contradictory. “In photography, there are two schools of thought: One that believes in photographing what’s out there, and one that talks about bringing out what’s within us. I’m a firm believer in photographing what’s out there. And I believe in doing that with as much honesty and respect (for your subject) as possible. Spiritual behaviour is also about respect, about being more concerned with others, and a little less concerned with yourself,” he says.
In previous interviews, Nicholas has shrugged off the notion that his spiritual calling has influenced his photography. But considering the subject matter of Photos for Rato, one is tempted to think otherwise. “Oh, but these are photos that have been selected specifically to raise funds for the monastery,” Nicholas says. “I photograph whatever is around me, wherever I happen to be. I don’t think of it as seeking out spiritual subjects. These images (pointing to one of two young monks practising their writing) could very well have been taken anywhere in Mumbai… I’m very interested in the relationships between form and the harmony between the subjects. I think one can go through that process of harmonising no matter what you’re shooting.”
Looking at Nicholas’ work, it’s impossible to escape the juxtaposition between the mundane activities the monks are engaged in (shelling beans, dining, carrying milk, studying) and their rather non-mundane calling. That juxtaposition isn’t deliberate, Nicholas says: “I was photographing what was happening around me and the fact is that a lot of the activities monks engage in, are mundane. I was merely photographing what was out there…I don’t go very far from my world.” Nicholas then demonstrates how the same whitewashed wall that serves as a backdrop in a portrait of the Dalai Lama serves as a frame in another image, how the verandah adjoining the wall is the site of another photo, and a room adjoining the same verandah, the setting of another image.
Speaking of the portrait of the Dalai Lama, a previous attempt at photographing His Holiness had ended with the spiritual leader asking Nicholas to be “satisfied with what you have”. So when Nicholas next had a chance (which resulted in the striking portrait included in Photos for Rato), he was “determined to be satisfied”. “I prepared myself a day earlier, I set up my tripod at the height I wanted, got a crate to stand on because I was going to look down through a twin reflex camera, got a monk to stand at the spot where I wanted His Holiness to pose, set the exposure I would want for 2 in the afternoon. But all this happened in the peace and quiet of the monastery. When His Holiness arrived, there were hundreds of people everywhere: His entourage, all the monks in the monastery, his security guards pushing the people back so that I could get my photo. But I was ready. So I took my picture, and then I moved in closer and took another. Then I asked him to look sideways so I could get one of his profile, and he said, ‘You want to take one of my nose? It’ll never be as big as yours’. It was a beautiful picture…then he looked at me and said, ‘Okay?’ and I said, ‘Thank you’. I felt I had learnt my lesson.”
All the photos on display are shot in black and white (“A product of my age,” Nicholas says. “These are unedited, silver and gelatine prints.”) and despite the photographer’s attempt to paint them as very much based in the here-and-now, there is an ethereal quality that’s hard to miss. That’s probably because the lesson Nicholas has taken away from photography and spiritualism has been the same: Honesty. “A camera never cheats,” Nicholas says simply. “There are no shortcuts to taking a good picture. On the spiritual path too, there are no shortcuts. But with both photography and spiritualism, after a while, if you’ve taken the requisite steps, then it all becomes more natural.”
Proceeds from sales of the collection will be donated to the Rato Dratsang monastery. For more information, log on to www.ratodratsangfoundation.org