Beginner’s Mind: Walking a 45-million-year-old path

Óscar Faria

Pedro Vaz’s exhibition Beginner’s Mind began long before he conceived it. One could say its origins trace back thirty-five years, to 1991, when Rui Calçada Bastos, then twenty years old, set out on a trek through the Indian Himalayas—an experience that later gave rise to the photographic series Paisagem para Desaparecidos II (“Landscape for the Disappeared II”, 2018). But its roots stretch even deeper, to the formation of the mountains themselves over 45 million years ago—peaks near Ladakh that have never ceased to shift and evolve.

It’s a long story, that unfolds at the crossroads of geology and art, religion and landscape, humanity and nature. Pedro Vaz is a wanderer. His practice aligns with the tradition of land art, particularly echoing the work of British artists Hamish Fulton and Richard Long, who, since the 1960s, have traversed vast landscapes across the globe, distilling their journeys into works of profound poetic resonance.

After encountering Rui Calçada Bastos’ 1991 photographs in 2018, Pedro Vaz set out to retrace the same path in 2022. His journey, however, covered a shorter distance, as much of the original route had since been overtaken by road infrastructure. This transformation introduced new challenges, with artificial gradients from recent road construction reshaping the terrain.

It is interesting to read what Pedro Vaz wrote in a post in August 2022: “Five days of walking, nearly 60 miles, at altitudes ranging from 11,500 ft to 16,500 ft. A mountain-shaped desert, with stunning landscapes of water, clay, and stones. The intense sun, the rocky path, and the high altitude pushed me to my limits in ways I had not experienced before. Walking with 10 lb felt like carrying 20 lb, and every 5 miles felt like 10 miles.”

In preparing this text, a few moments from my conversations with the artist stood out as insights worth sharing.

Pedro Vaz’s expedition was not a solitary endeavor; he was accompanied by a team that included Sonam Dorje, the “horse man and his four horses”; Stenzing Choszang, the cook; and Balti Raj, the guide. “For the people of the Indian Tibetan Himalayas, giving is far more important than having—a simple way of being that transcends our understanding,” Vaz reflected in a post.

One of the most significant events during those days in 2022 was the Dalai Lama’s visit to the region, where he presided over a ceremony that Vaz had the opportunity to witness up close.

Another defining moment was Pedro Vaz’s visit to the Thiksey Monastery, a sacred site of Tibetan Buddhism (gompa) of the Gelug sect, also known as the “Yellow Hats. ” There, he recorded the sound of the Tibetan trumpets (dungchen), whose deep, resonant tones resemble the call of elephants. Played by two monks, the instrument produces what Lama Tsultrim Allione describes as “a long, deep, whirring, haunting wail that takes you out somewhere beyond the highest Himalaya peaks and at the same time back into your mother’s womb”.1

Beginner’s Mind brings together 108 paintings on Indian cotton paper, a video, and two maps tracing the journeys of Rui Calçada Bastos in 1991 and Pedro Vaz in 2022.

The exhibition title references the eponymous book written in 1970 by Shunryu Suzuki, spiritual heir to the great 13th-century Zen master Dōgen Zenji, founder of the Sōtō school. This work, which compiles a series of lectures given by the creator of the San Francisco Zen Center, underscores the value of approaching the world with openness—as if each moment were a first encounter.

The “beginner’s mind” calls for full presence in the now, untethered from past distractions or future concerns. In the mountains, this means perceiving each step, the texture of the earth, the sound of the wind, the shifting light—without judgment, without the need to define them as “good” or “bad.”

Suzuki compares this state of mind to the practice of zazen (seated meditation), where breath and posture become the focal points. Walking, then, is no longer just a means to reach the summit—it becomes an experience in itself, where every movement is unique, and the journey holds more value than the destination.

He also emphasizes that the beginner’s mind transcends dualities —self versus nature, effort versus relaxation. In the mountains, this means dissolving the boundaries between the walker and the landscape until they become one.

Pedro and the mountain. Pedro and the landscape. Pedro and the map. Pedro and the sound of the trumpets. There is no distinction between the artist and the world around him: seeing, walking, creating, listening—all are part of the same continuum.

In this way, Pedro Vaz and his paintings of Ladakh’s surrounding peaks—Saser Kangri (25,171 ft) and Nun (23,409 ft)—are not separate. Just as these mountains are in constant motion, so too are the images he captures, first through photography and video, and later in their transformation into paintings and video installations.

The number of paintings—108—carries its own significance. In Buddhist tradition, it represents the total number of kleshas (mental impurities) that one must overcome to reach enlightenment. The repetition of a mantra 108 times, counted on a mala (prayer beads), is a meditative act of gradual purification, a step toward spiritual liberation.

The exhibition culminates in a video where layers of mountain imagery slowly dissolve—into absence, into emptiness, into nothingness. The sound of the trumpets, reworked by Hugo Vasco Reis, fills the gallery, immersing us completely. Transported by Pedro Vaz’s work, we return to the womb, carried through the high peaks of the Himalayas.

Pedro Vaz’s journey for this project was made possible with the generous support of Ladakh Tourism, the Camões Institute, and the Portuguese Embassy in New Delhi, India.

1 Alione, Tsultrim. Women of Wisdom. London: Arkana, 1986.