The shakuhachi is a five-holed bamboo flute, with a historical connection to a sub-sect of Zen Buddhism called Fukeshū. The traditional pieces for shakuhachi are called honkyoku - 'fundamental pieces'. 

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My first experience of hearing shakuhachi honkyoku was profound, and it absolutely broke my musical world apart. The music I was familiar with up until that point was like a wall made of bricks. Each brick had even dimensions, nice straight lines of rhythm and melody, which fit together neatly to create a solid wall.

 

Honkyoku, on the other hand, seemed to use rough-hewn stones that did not fit together well at all. However, creating a neat wall was not the objective. Instead, gaps were intentionally allowed to exist between the stones. Through those gaps, I caught a glimpse of the void, and was awed.

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I recognise that same quality now in many Japanese practices and objects: the way light and shadow arise together, how sound and silence co-constitute each other, and how natural forms take shape through relationship rather than separation. These are relations that are not one, not two, not both, not neither—a sensibility that continues to guide my performance and research.