The stone garden of Ryoanji

 

Kim Bong-ryeol
The author is an architect and a former president of the Korea National University of Arts.
 
 
A rectangular courtyard bordered by an old earthen wall, streaked with dried moss, frames a sparse composition of gravel and stone. Across the raked surface, stones sit in small clusters of two or three, each surrounded by soft patches of rounded moss. Visitors fill the raised wooden platform along one side of the yard, watching the simple garden in near silence as if waiting for something to emerge from its restraint.
 

Ryoanji’s karesansui garden (Japanese dry garden) in Kyoto, Japan [WIKIPEDIA]

 
Viewed closely, the gravel reveals faint patterns shaped by a rake, creating the impression of waves moving across an open sea. The stones appear like islands before fading back into their own material simplicity. This is the stone garden of Ryoanji in Kyoto, a landmark of Japanese Zen aesthetics.
 
Traditional Japanese gardens fall broadly into two categories. The chisenkaiyu style uses a large pond and artificial hills to form a landscaped path for strolling, often developed as leisure grounds for the aristocracy. The karesansui style, by contrast, removes water and relies on gravel, sand and stone to shape a garden meant for viewing rather than walking. These dry landscapes were usually created at Zen temples as spaces for meditation. Ryoanji’s stone garden is one of the most noted examples, attached to the quarters of a senior monk.
 
The grounds once served as an estate for the Fujiwara clan, the most powerful aristocratic family of the 11th century. A pond from that earlier chisenkaiyu layout remains within the temple precincts. During the Muromachi shogunate, Hosokawa Katsumoto founded Ryoanji in 1450, and the stone garden was created around the same time. Today, fifteen stones are arranged in five irregular groups of two, three and five. The placement is intentional: From no single vantage point can all fifteen be seen at once, a design that adds to the garden’s quiet sense of mystery.
 
 
A 17th-century text describes the larger stones as representing a tiger and her cubs crossing water. Other interpretations imagine mountain peaks rising from the ocean, or read the layout as a mathematical expression of odd-numbered symmetry. Some argue the arrangement is simply an abstract composition of natural objects. The garden invites such openness. A viewer may see tigers, islands, peaks or nothing beyond stone itself. If Zen practice aims to clear distraction through concentration, this garden offers an ideal setting for that discipline.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.