Can a Human Be as Transparent as Nature?
Throughout history, as humanity’s perception of nature has evolved, so too has its representation in art. Nature, once viewed with fear and reverence as a powerful force, gradually transformed into a vessel for emotion, memory, and existence. Landscape painting became not merely a depiction of scenery, but a language that records the silent relationship between humans and the world.
In the Western tradition, nature is often presented as a domain to be shaped, organized, and idealized. In contrast, Eastern traditions—particularly the Chinese landscape painting tradition—developed not solely as a means of depicting nature, but as an aesthetic and philosophical exploration of the existential relationship between humans and the natural world. The term shanshui (山水), meaning “mountain and water,” reflects both the formal and conceptual aspects of this tradition. For Chinese artists, nature is not simply a sequence of observable phenomena in the external world; it is an existential realm intertwined with the human spirit. This perspective is rooted in Daoist and Confucian philosophies, which conceive of nature as a totality that embodies the order of the universe—of which humanity is an inseparable part. The aim of shanshui painting is not to replicate nature as it appears, but to grasp and convey its essence—its movement, rhythm, and infinitude—through art. Thus, Chinese landscape painting diverges from the naturalistic representational approach of Western art; it makes visible not what the eye sees, but what the mind and spirit perceive in their communion with nature. From this viewpoint, Chinese landscape painting is not only an art form but a mode of being—aesthetic experience as a means of integrating with nature.
The ink and brush techniques employed to render this existential experience are primary tools for establishing direct spiritual communication with nature. The artist’s objective is not to mimic nature’s forms precisely but to develop a visual language that evokes its inner rhythm and spirit. This approach is embodied in the concept of “spirit resonance,” which occupies the foremost position in Hsieh Ho’s Six Principles of Painting: a successful painting not only describes objects but transmits the inner energy of nature. The variety of ink tones and the fluidity of brushstrokes reflect the ever-changing nature of the landscape, while the vitality of the line invites the viewer into nature’s fluidity. Multiple viewpoints and free perspective further enhance this dynamic interaction.
Within this aesthetic, the human figure appears small and humble in the face of nature’s vastness. Far from asserting dominance over nature, this portrayal affirms humanity’s integration with it. Human figures are often represented as travelers on a path or as modest cottages nestled in the foothills—sometimes appearing only as indirect traces within the natural flow. This principle is directly tied to the belief that humans must live in harmony with nature. The artist does not seek to construct a narrative of human dominance over nature, but rather to make visible the silent and profound harmony established through humanity’s participation in the cosmic order. Nature thus ceases to be a mere backdrop and emerges as a coexistent entity that generates spiritual unity with the human presence.
This sense of unity is also expressed through the use of negative space. In Chinese landscape painting, emptiness is not a visual deficiency but a fundamental narrative element. Through these vacant spaces, the artist evokes nature’s infinity, invisible realms, and the ceaseless transformation of the universe. This intentional use of emptiness strengthens the mental connection with nature, transforming the viewer from a passive observer into an active participant in completing the work. Emptiness in this context creates both aesthetic tranquility and an existential vastness.
Such an aesthetic understanding is not merely formal but grounded in a profound philosophical foundation. The shanshui tradition reflects the fundamental existential dimension of the human-nature relationship. Nature is not merely a stage, but a companion in one’s spiritual journey. The abandonment of fixed perspective in traditional Chinese paintings symbolizes an ongoing flow and transformation with nature. As in Daoist thought, human existence aligns with the cycles of nature—not as a separate entity, but as an integrative element. The viewer does not simply observe nature, but coexists with it. Thus, the artwork becomes not a visual representation, but a space in which being itself is revealed.
Today, contemporary artists also carry traces of this permeable perspective in their relationships with nature, time, and memory. A contemporary reflection of these traces emerges in Filiz Piyale Onat’s exhibition Transparent, where her layered surfaces and silent landscapes deeply explore the fragile and porous relationship between humans, nature, and the self. Onat’s artistic practice builds a tension between small-scale, often man-made three-dimensional elements and landscapes enshrouded in silence. This tension points to the individual’s solitude, silence, and invisible presence within nature. In her works, nature is not a majestic backdrop but a space of memory marked by temporal traces where the self is defined. In Transparent, this existential silence acquires layered depth; nature is reimagined not as an external realm to be observed but as a permeable space in which one is immersed.
Onat’s production process begins with conceptual research, followed by formal experimentation. However, in her practice, this relationship is not bound by strict hierarchy but involves a reciprocal interaction. The materials used in Transparent reflect this flexible approach. Layers of oil paint on canvas are thinned with linseed oil and turpentine, allowing them to seep into one another, creating translucent surfaces that blur the boundaries between figures and space. This technical choice renders nature not as a fixed image, but as an entity in flux—shaped by time and memory.
Her approach to nature is rooted more in intuition than in formal precision. Her images do not become fixed but expand and become fluid. This transforms the act of viewing nature from depiction into experience. These landscapes open not only a geography to the viewer, but also an inner world. Voids and unseen spaces within the paintings play a vital role in their silent structure—like the parts of memory or emotion that are not recalled but felt.
In Transparent, the permeable boundaries between the physical appearance of nature and the inner human experience are explored. The works in the exhibition examine the concept of “transparency” on both material and conceptual levels. The translucent layers on the canvas surface create not only spatial depth but also visualize the layering of time, memory, and emotion. The “Dust” series, comprising small pastel-on-paper mountain images, combines the grandeur and gravity of nature with unexpected fragility. To convey the faint traces of mountains, the artist employs the delicate transparency of pastel dust.
In contrast, the cotton-based installation A Hundred Days—a freer, more experimental work unprecedented in the artist’s practice—reveals the layers beneath the body and identity, suggesting that the erasure of a surface allows another, perhaps more authentic one to emerge.
Onat’s approach to nature and humanity is built upon a permeability that rejects rigid boundaries and fixed forms. Her depictions of nature do not record a specific time or place; rather, they perceive nature and humanity as states of continual becoming. The Transparent exhibition invites the viewer to traverse the subtle layers between visibility and invisibility, past and present, body and memory. As one moves through these layers, one steps not only into a landscape but also into one’s own inner world. Perhaps transparency emerges at the boundary between openness and vulnerability—as a map of traces, like a mutable identity. And perhaps, in becoming a small part of nature, one becomes more authentic, more transparent. Who knows—can a human ever be as transparent as nature?
