Time occupies a central position in Zen philosophy, not as an abstract or measurable framework, but as an existential dimension inseparable from lived experience. Within this tradition, time is not understood as linear succession or cumulative duration; rather, it is disclosed through presence, awareness, and embodied practice.
This understanding finds its most systematic articulation in the thought of Eihei Dōgen, the founder of the Sōtō Zen school, particularly in his concept of uji, often translated as the oneness of being and time. For Dōgen, existence does not unfold within time as a neutral container; instead, each being is itself a moment of time, and time becomes manifest only through concrete action.
Such a view challenges modern instrumental conceptions of time as something external, quantifiable, and subject to control. Performance art, as an artistic medium grounded in embodiment, duration, and eventhood, provides a particularly suitable context for engaging with this qualitative understanding of time.
Unlike object-based art forms, performance exists only in its unfolding and depends on the co-presence of body, space, and audience. Meaning emerges through continuity, repetition, and attention rather than through narrative progression or representational imagery. In this sense, performance art foregrounds lived time rather than chronological measurement.
Among contemporary performance artists, Marilyn Arsem occupies a distinctive position through her sustained investigation of duration, minimal action, and bodily presence.
This article focuses on Arsem’s long-term project 100 Ways to Consider Time (2015–2016), a series of one hundred live performances carried out over one hundred consecutive days. Each performance lasted six hours and consisted of a single, often minimal action developed in response to the previous day’s work rather than according to a predetermined plan.
The project constitutes a coherent and extended inquiry into time as an experiential phenomenon. Despite the significance of this body of work, it has not previously been examined through the lens of Zen philosophy, nor has it been analyzed in relation to Dōgen’s conception of time.
The present study addresses this gap by exploring how Zen notions of temporality are reflected in Arsem’s performances and how these notions shape the audience’s experience of time. The primary aim of the research is to analyze time not as a symbolic theme, but as a lived and enacted dimension within the structure of the performances.
Drawing on Zen philosophy, time is approached as a qualitative field realized through bodily endurance, repetition, waiting, and sustained attention. The theoretical framework is grounded in Dōgen’s concept of uji, alongside related Zen principles such as impermanence, non-duality, presence in the moment, and acceptance of incompleteness.
These concepts provide a lens through which the temporal logic of Arsem’s work can be understood beyond formal or aesthetic description.
Methodologically, the study adopts a qualitative, descriptive–analytical approach based on library research, Zen philosophical texts, theoretical writings on performance art, and documentary materials related to 100 Ways to Consider Time.
Rather than imposing Zen as an external interpretive system, the analysis identifies points of resonance between Zen temporality and the experiential structure of the performances themselves. Particular attention is given to actions such as counting aloud, repetitive drawing, prolonged stillness, waiting for physical change, and sustained silence, through which time is enacted rather than represented.
Throughout the project, Arsem consistently avoids spectacle, dramatic climax, and narrative resolution. Instead, she emphasizes slowness, minimalism, and continuity. Actions such as counting numbers for hours, allowing sand to pass through an hourglass, or repeatedly tracing lines do not aim at efficiency or completion.
They invite both performer and audience into an encounter with duration itself. In these moments, time is not something that passes toward an end point, but something that continuously comes into being through presence. This mode of engagement closely parallels Zen practice, in which repetitive actions performed with full awareness become sites of insight rather than obstacles to understanding.
The body functions as the primary site through which time becomes perceptible. Arsem’s body is not a representational image but a field of temporal manifestation. Physical fatigue, altered breathing, muscular tension, and gradual transformation of posture render duration tangible.
Such embodiment reflects Dōgen’s insistence that time exists only insofar as it is enacted. Time, in this sense, is inseparable from action; it is being-time. The audience, witnessing these bodily processes, is drawn into an awareness of time as a shared experiential condition rather than an abstract measure.
Audience participation further extends this temporal field beyond the performer. In several performances, viewers are invited to sit, wait, write, or reflect on their own experiences of time. These moments do not produce a unified collective narrative, but rather generate a plurality of temporal experiences that coexist without hierarchy.
This multiplicity resonates with Zen’s rejection of rigid subject–object distinctions. The audience is no longer positioned as a detached observer, but becomes embedded within the unfolding temporal process of the work.
Repetition plays a crucial role in shaping this experience. While actions recur, they are never identical; subtle variations emerge through bodily condition, spatial context, and audience presence. This repetition-with-difference reflects the Zen understanding of impermanence and continuous becoming.
Each moment is complete in itself, yet none is fixed or final. Meaning thus arises through sustained engagement rather than through closure or resolution.
Silence and waiting are equally significant. Extended periods without overt action disrupt habitual expectations of productivity and entertainment. In these moments, the audience confronts restlessness and the desire for progression. Such confrontation mirrors Zen meditation practices, where stillness exposes attachments to control and efficiency.
By maintaining silence and inactivity, Arsem creates conditions in which time can be experienced as openness rather than pressure. Certain performances evoke a sense of yūgen, a Zen aesthetic quality associated with subtle depth and the presence of the ineffable.
Meaning is suggested rather than stated, and time is felt rather than explained. The audience is invited to remain within ambiguity and incompleteness, relinquishing the impulse to consume the experience quickly. This approach stands in contrast to contemporary regimes of accelerated time and constant productivity.
Ultimately, 100 Ways to Consider Time does not illustrate Zen philosophy, nor does it explicitly reference Zen rituals or symbols. Its affinity with Zen lies in its mode of temporal engagement. By suspending linear progression, emphasizing bodily presence, and foregrounding lived duration, Arsem’s project offers an experiential parallel to Zen teachings on time.
The performances encourage a shift from quantitative measurement to qualitative presence, from representation to experience.
In conclusion, this study demonstrates that Marilyn Arsem’s project can be understood as a contemporary artistic articulation of Zen temporality. By situating 100 Ways to Consider Time in dialogue with Dōgen’s philosophy, the research highlights performance art as a site for phenomenological and existential inquiry into time.
Rather than providing answers, Arsem’s work invites sustained contemplation, aligning artistic practice with Zen’s emphasis on direct experience and embodied awareness.