Spotlight on the specialness of Horyuji as Buddhism’s cradle in Japan

The blog Heritage of Japan shares with us today a Japan Times article summarizing the history and importance of Hôryû-ji.

When UNESCO cast its beady, critical eye on Japan 18 years ago to assess the country’s cultural and natural merits with a view — in the agency’s ponderous prose — to “inscription on the World Heritage List,” it settled on four places that became the nation’s first entries to those ranks so adored by tourism associations.

…

It may have come as rather a surprise to some that Horyuji, located 14 km southwest of the city of Nara, should have been selected ahead of obviously much more famous Kyoto — and indeed Nara itself. But Horyuji really is exceptional. As well as being a landmark in Japanese history and the oldest existing Buddhist temple in the land, the complex of Horyuji contains the world’s oldest wooden buildings.

For those interested, you can read the rest at the original post on Heritage of Japan, or at the Japan Times.

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Recent Acquisitions – 京都の古本屋 Edition

I don’t know when I’ll get around to reading any of these – it may be quite some time – but so long as I am in Japan and have access to cheap used books on Japanese history and the like, I just can’t help myself.

Oh, geez. Putting all my newly acquired books into a pile in order to write this post, I realize just how much I’ve bought. I’m going to have a lot of things to ship home.

*名城を歩く mook (magazine-book) series, volumes on Matsue and Matsuyama Castles

I quite enjoyed the Kanazawa Castle volume from this series and so was happy to come across two more volumes on castles I am interested in. Granted, I don’t know much about, for example, Osaka or Himeji Castles, and haven’t been to them, but for whatever reason I am much more interested in the slightly more obscure and more out of the way ones. Matsue (in Shimane) is one of only a few castles remaining today not reconstructed after the end of the Edo period; Iyo-Matsuyama (on Shikoku) is just interesting for being on Shikoku…

In addition to providing details about the individual buildings and distinguishing features of each castle, as well as map/pictures of the castle at its height and fairly solid narrative overviews of the history of the castle’s lords, one feature I quite enjoy is that each book in this series includes very brief descriptions of other castles in the area (generally ruins or even empty sites without even ruins). Where else would you learn anything about Uwajima castle (宇和島城) and Ôzu castle (大洲城)?

(Purchased at a used book store 井上書店 across the street from Kyôdai, for 200 yen each.)

*「琉球と日本・中国」 (Ryukyu and Japan & China) & 「琉球の王権とグスク」 (The Ryukyuan Royalty and Gusuku Fortresses)

Two books from the 日本史リブレット (Japanese History Libretto) series. I haven’t yet read anything from this series, but upon a quick glance, these seem to be relatively easy to read (i.e. not formal, dense academic prose), and at only 100 pages each, they’re not too intimidating, and won’t take too long to read (though it’ll still take some time). They’re published by Yamakawa Shuppansha, a publishing company which specializes in history books, which I think can be taken as a good indication that these are of a certain level of quality and reliability. Each has notes in the margins explaining names of people and places, and other terms one might not be familiar with, and both address topics very directly related to my interests and my research, meaning I’m not wasting my time by reading these, looking for, hoping for, elements that might be relevant. Both should prove to be useful additions to my foundational knowledge of these subjects.

(Purchased new in the Dôshisha Fusôkan bookstore for 800 yen each)

*Three volumes of 再現日本史 mook series, specifically on the years 1863-64; 1867; and 1877-1880

These magazine-books seem quite scattered, devoting only a single page at most to any given topic, but a quick glance would seem to indicate that they cover a fairly broad range of topics, thus providing a good overview of the events of each year; and of course since each volume covers such a short period, the topics addresses are not too general, but actually delve into some degree of detail and to some extent the more obscure events. The last volume devotes a whole page (and a whole other page of just image) to the subject of Shô Tai, last king of Ryûkyû, and to the overthrow and annexation of his kingdom. I am particularly curious to read this section, as well as whatever little bits there may be on Pres. Grant’s visit to Japan in 1879.

(Purchased at a BookOff for 105 yen each)

*Power of Okinawa

Presumably the only book out there in English on Okinawan music (especially on more contemporary music, not just traditional/classical music), the book, I must admit (sorry, sir) seems less academic, less dense than I might have hoped (Academic language is good in English; not good for my Japanese language level). Just judging from the size of the text, the feel and look of it, I get this impression. And, yes, I know I’m jumping to conclusions, but I am very much hoping that the content of the text proves me wrong.

I grew interested in Okinawa largely through the music, and am particularly eager and interested to read this, and learn more about this wonderful phenomenon that creates lively, contemporary, fun, entrancing music that incorporates traditional instruments (sanshin), themes and lyrics, and conveys the feel, the atmosphere of the islands. Perhaps I am too quick to use the word “perfect,” but I feel that much of the Okinawan popular music I have heard is an excellent combination of traditional elements and new, contemporary influences, conveying the traditional culture, identity, and atmosphere/feel, not tossing it away, while remaining quite current.

I am also eager to start learning sanshin myself, and so, reading up on Okinawan music is essentially a must. Can’t play the music without a fuller appreciation and understanding of the background, the culture, etc.

(Purchased directly from the author, through his website, for 2300 yen incl. shipping within Japan)

*Three volumes of 別冊太陽 (“The Sun”) from the 1970s, each a sort of mini-encyclopedia, 100 Merchants, 100 Daimyo Houses, and 100 House Elders (karô) respectively

This seems an amazingly good series. They’re still putting them out, and if you look at the website, you’ll see they cover a wide range of topics, one topic per volume, presumably in amazing detail. Each of the volumes I bought is a nice solid 200 pages, and sold originally, in the 1970s, for 1500-1600 yen.

They don’t devote a particularly great amount of text to any one topic – most get only a paragraph, sadly. But there are lots of pictures, and I am hoping these will prove quite useful for my exploits in compiling encyclopedia entries for the Samurai-Archives Wiki of Japanese History. I’ve never seen any book in English that devoted more than a passing reference to Suminokura Ryôi, one of the most prominent merchants of Edo period Kyoto, let alone to any of the 90+ lesser-known merchants included in this volume.

(Purchased for 500 yen each at the Kitano Tenmangû Flea Market)

*Four volumes of 古寺をゆく mook series, on Eiheiji; Kanzeonji; Byôdôin; and Kenchôji & Engakuji respectively.

Like the castles series listed at the top of this post, I think that these volumes could be quite interesting, and useful for the Samurai Wiki. Each focuses on a single temple (or two), providing good details on the history of the temple, its individual buildings, and famous or important Buddhist sculptures and other artifacts and art objects in the collection, as well as (like the castle mooks) providing smaller, brief descriptions of other major temples in the area.

The shop had an entire box of them, quite possibly the whole series. I wish I might have bought them all, especially at this price, since they go for 560 cover price, but I had to stick to picking just a few. As with the castles, I could have picked up volumes on Kiyomizudera, Honganji, Sensôji, Daitokuji, Hôryûji, but I decided to go with slightly less major temples of particular interest to me. Eiheiji is a Zen temple founded by Dôgen, whose story is told in the 2009 film ZEN, which I quite enjoyed. Byôdôin, of course, is the former villa of Fujiwara no Michinaga, one of the few surviving examples of something hinting at a fuller shinden-zukuri compound, and related therefore, though today a temple, to the exciting political intrigues of the late Heian period. Kenchôji and Engakuji, of course, are major Zen temples in Kamakura, a bit off the beaten path when it comes to the Kinkakuji/Ginkakuji-going masses. I’ve always liked Kamakura, and though I’ve only visited a handful of times and never lived there, I do feel something of a special connection to the place, and a desire to expound upon its temples, informing others who might only be aware of the big name ones in Kyoto and Tokyo. Kanzeonji, finally, was once the chief temple in Kyushu, and is connected to the history of the Dazaifu, and to that period and atmosphere. Despite its ancient importance, the temple is today quite obscure and largely unknown. Even a friend specializing in that period who once lived in Fukuoka told me he’d never heard of it.

(Purchased from a used book store across the street from Kyôdai, for 100 yen each.)

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Byôdô-in’s Colorful Past

The Heritage of Japan blog shares with us today interesting news about CG recreations of what the famous Byôdô-in at Uji, just outside Kyoto, may have originally looked like.

I’m not sure how often or how recently the Byôdô-in may have been repainted or renovated, but to some extent it is Japanese practice (unlike the practice in many parts of mainland Asia) to allow temple buildings, Buddhist sculptures, and the like to show their age. Thus, while a great many temples, statues, etc throughout Japan have a wonderfully aged, romantically historic look to them, at the same time, the original appearance is lost. These CG images are one way to regain that old look, and to share it with the public, without actually repainting or renovating (which some might argue to be a form of defacing, perhaps) the actual object or structure.

Thanks much to Heritage of Japan for this info!

Photo my own. Taken May 2008.

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Review: Dogs & Demons

I have finally finished reading Alex Kerr’s “Dogs and Demons: Tales from the Dark Side of Japan.” Though in the course of reading the book I was constantly coming across concepts, arguments, assertions, or quotes I wanted to share and discuss, I put off writing about it until I completed the whole text. After all, you never know what is going to come up next, and how that might complement or detract from one’s impression or understanding.

I had been eager for quite some time to read this book, as I have heard Kerr speak, and read elsewhere about his ideas on the construction state in Japan, the country’s failure to appreciate or protect its traditional architecture, and the traditional character of its cities. These topics form the core of the book, though only two chapters are explicitly directly related to “Old Cities” and “New Cities”; only about half the book is really devoted to these topics at all, the rest describing the social, educational, political, economic, and financial structures which enable and perpetuate what Kerr identifies as systemic problems in Japan.

Alternatively, one can see the book as one which addresses a wide range of systemic issues, issues of construction, architecture, and the character of cities being just one of them.

In any case, it is an excellent, informative, and sobering read, scary and depressing at times. Is this really the Japan I fell in love with? Is that really what’s going on behind the scenes? I always knew that the multitude of writers on how wonderful Japan’s corporate culture is (or other similar topics) were not getting the whole picture – finance/business experts, they wouldn’t know Ashikaga from Minamoto, Hiroshige from Hokusai, or Gainax from Madhouse – in short, they don’t really know Japan, but only one small sliver, one aspect, of modern Japanese “culture”. But Kerr really drives it home that these writers, who extol Japanese corporate culture, robotics technologies, bureaucratic efficiency, or what have you, really have no idea what is going on behind the scenes (or know but are choosing to not represent the darker sides), and thus present to the Western world, either intentionally or unknowingly, an extremely distorted view of Japan, which cultivates an ignorance of Japan’s systemic problems so complete that Kerr’s own arguments teeter on the edge of credibility.

*Think of Kyoto. What do you see? What do you imagine Kyoto to be like? Perhaps you picture cherry blossoms or red maple leaves, geisha walking along cobblestone paths lined with traditional-style wooden buildings with tiled roofs and tatami floors. A city frozen, in some ways, in the 18th century or earlier – a place where, unlike in, for example, New York, there is a long tradition to look back upon, to appreciate, protect, and preserve.

*Think of Tokyo. What do you see? What do you imagine Tokyo to be like? Perhaps you imagine sleek, white, ultramodern architecture, the kind of beautiful, futuristic structures you normally associate with sci-fi movies. A city not frozen at all, but forward-looking, progressing beyond anything we see in the West, as if arriving in Tokyo means stepping into the future.

*Those who have lived in Japan, however, will tell you that, in fact, sadly, both cities, like most cities throughout Japan, are composed primarily of a jumble of boxy concrete apartment buildings, electrical wires running every which way. These are cities frozen, not in a quaint, beautiful traditional past, nor progressing as the heralds of the future, but frozen in the 1950s or ’60s, when Japan was very much a developing country, still struggling to recover from the devastation of World War II; a time when so-called “modern” architecture stressed function over form, and yielded truly hideous, grey, depressing concrete cubes.

Kerr relates an anecdote in which a German publisher, visiting Japan on business, “looked out at a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, a typical jumble of concrete boxes and electric wires, and asked innocently, ‘So this is where the poor people live?’ … No, this is where everyone lives.” (p207) This is the result, as Kerr explains, of Japan’s refusal or inability to acknowledge itself as a developed country, to put aside the idea of the people suffering and enduring for the sake of the country, and the misguided idea that concrete, steel, and this kind of cramped (semai) lifestyle are essential parts of what it means to be “modern.” This is also the result of a complex web of political and economic forces which prevent the bureaucracy, construction industry, banks, and other industries from having any motivation whatsoever to allow change, let alone to advocate for it; finally, the educational system and cultural attitudes against speaking out, against thinking idependently, prevent the populace from standing up to the bureaucracy and industry to demand change.

Granted, all of this was written several years ago, before the fateful 2009 election, in which the LDP lost power for only the second time in about 50 years, an election which was surrounded with chatter about dissatisfaction with LDP governance, with bureaucracy, and overall with the way government and bureaucracy operated. I’m not sure if all that much has changed in the last six months, since the DPJ took charge, or whether this cry for change from the masses truly represents a breakthrough in the power of the public, or at least the desire of the public, to actually effect change. Only time will tell whether the Japan of post-2009 truly becomes a different creature from the one Alex Kerr describes so pessimistically in 2001.

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Touring the Forbidden City

I guess it’s not so forbidden anymore. After years of restoration and conservation efforts, parts of the Forbidden City will be opened to the public sometime next year.

Meanwhile, an exhibition of recreated interiors from the Imperial Palace will go on tour, starting with an exhibition at the Peabody-Essex Museum in Salem MA, entitled “Hidden Treasures from the Forbidden City: Unlocking an Emperor’s Private Paradise.”

The exhibition website includes a link to a video with NBC’s Matt Lauer, and Nancy Berliner, PEM curator of Chinese art, sharing with us some of these exquisite spaces.

The exhibit runs at the Peabody Essex from September 11, 2010 to January 9, 2011. I regret I won’t be able to see it myself, but hopefully there will be more treats on the website in months to come. Perhaps we will be able to learn the touring schedule soon…

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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Kashgar: the Next Victim of Chinese Modernization

The New York Times reports today on a plan already underway to raze 85% of the Old City of Kashgar, on the western edge of China, destroying centuries-old homes laden with history, tradition, culture, and memories, and replacing them with 20th century style concrete block apartment buildings.

Kashgar was a major trading hub on the Silk Road, and is today the major center of population of the Uighur people, a Central Asian/Turkic people counted among China’s official minority ethnicities. The Old City represents centuries upon centuries of Uighur culture, lifestyles, and history. Some of the buildings here are said to be as old as 1000 years; many are made from straw and mud, and most have been passed down within a family for generations. The central government claims that they will honor Uighur culture and architectural styles in their rebuilding project, but as can be seen from the photos in the Times’ slideshow report, this is either an out-and-out lie or a self-delusion. Blocky concrete buildings identical to those found throughout China, painted and decorated to imitate Uighur styles, are not what should be meant by “honoring Uighur culture and style.” The city survived both Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, but shall succumb to Han bureaucracy.

As is often the case in China and Japan, because it is such a convenient excuse, the threat of earthquakes and the need for newer, more quake-proof, buildings is being cited as the reason behind this decision.

But what’s the real reason? As Michael Wines says in his audio slideshow report, “there’s so much going on in modern China right now, in some ways it’s almost impossible to figure out why someone, somewhere, decided the Old City had to be demolished. Is it China’s drive to modernize everything? … Or is it the need of the central government to make sure that ethnic minorities, like the Uighurs don’t cause them trouble?”

“To Protect an Ancient City, China Moves to Raze It.” Michael Wines, NY Times, 5/28/09.

“A City, and People, at a Crossroads.” Accompanying Audio Slideshow Report.

“An Ancient Culture, Bulldozed Away.” Maureen Fan, Washington Post, 3/24/09.

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Alex Kerr on the Conservation of Traditional and Natural Beauty in Japan

As I mentioned several posts ago, Alex Kerr spoke this Monday at Japan Society. Did anyone who attended tonight learn of the lecture as the result of reading it here? I wonder.

I apologize if the following is rambling. There’s so much I want to say, so much I want to make sure I get in, and I just can’t organize it neatly. Alex inspires that kind of thought process & writing style in me.

Alex can be depressing; he can take a very pessimistic view of Japan, and he can lead others to have a pessimistic, dark view about it as well. It is for that reason that I have been advised against reading Dogs & Demons. But after tonight’s talk, I am quite curious to read it. Because you can’t fix problems you don’t recognize, let alone understand, and because this issue of preserving Japan’s cultural and natural beauty is very important, and intriguing, to me.

I was taken in by the talk most of all because, more than anyone else I have read or met, Alex can be incredibly inspirational about what a wonderful place Japan can be. It is only through his eyes that I can appreciate what he calls 何でもないの魅力, the charm of nothing special. Read “Lost Japan”, and you’ll know what I mean. Alex appreciates the beauty of so many things the Japanese no longer do; sunsets and sunrises, the mist rolling over the mountains, the flickering shadows in candlelight, the elegance of wooden roof beams and basic black ink calligraphy. And he inspires others to see the beauty in the simple as well. The work he does, promoting traditional culture and preserving traditional architecture, is extremely important, not with the aim of freezing Japan in the past, like a city in a bottle, but with the aim of modernizing elegantly, gracefully, in a manner that is true to the country’s rich and beautiful heritage. Alex has not only a deep understanding of all the things that are wrong, but also a vision of what it should be, and what it can be again. I have myself rarely been as inspired to appreciate simple beauty, natural vistas, and certain aspects of traditional culture as I have when reading, listening to, or talking with Alex.

Alex is also an inspiration to be because he is, in some ways, an incredible example of what can be accomplished with hard work, a never give up attitude, and a shitload of luck. Alex is a modern day literati. He doesn’t play by the rules, doesn’t work inside the box of the standard scholar, but makes his own successes. He basically does whatever he wants, whatever grabs his interest, pursues it, and is successful at it. He lives the life of the literati, hosting parties in his machiya art space, where people gather to drink sake, do calligraphy, and perhaps perform a little kyōgen, enjoying a modern version of the life 99% of Japanese have forgotten about and wouldn’t know how to appreciate today. He makes me want to drop everything – grad school, my safe and sure career path here in the US – to pursue the adventure of the literati life in Japan. He makes me feel like I am seriously missing out by not doing this. I want so badly to fall into the right opportunity, the right chance meeting, that will lead me to living a life like his: beautiful traditional style homes, an art collection, a strong involvement with very actively promoting traditional arts and culture, and being immersed in it. But, taking a chance is exactly what it is, a lark, a risk, giving up whatever guarantees I might have from sticking to the path, and relying on pure luck to see me through. I don’t think I can do that.

I’ll admit, I do feel strange about Alex’s take on the natural and traditional beauty of Japan, and its importance. The way he speaks, it sounds like traditional and natural beauty is not only the goal unto itself, the only goal worth working towards, but he speaks as if everyone should or already does agree with him; as if traditional style is inherently better than modern style and there’s no need to argue his point. Granted, I agree with him completely; I love traditional, cultural, Japanese Japan, and I never signed up for this concrete jungle that “modern” Japan has become. But, while intentionally avoiding the “O” word, is it not true that this is still very much a foreigner’s view? After all these years living in the Far East, isn’t Alex still bringing a very foreign attitude to this? After all, that’s the same thing most of us gaijin Japanophiles want – to have Japan maintain its traditional culture; if we wanted concrete, we’d stay home in the West.

Actually, though, Alex is far from a dumb, naive, or uninformed guy. He does not oppose progress or modernity at all, but rather posits that Japan has gone about it in the wrong way. He has shown, through his machiya renovation projects, his lectures, and his writing, that it is very doable to make an old home livable, with modern appliances and conveniences. He points out that millions and millions of people in the US alone, not to mention Europe, do just that – my own home that I grew up in is over 100 years old and it’s perfectly livable, because it’s been modified over the years to incorporate heating, AC, electricity, modern plumbing, etc.

Hanamikoji, Gion, Kyoto. The atmosphere of a quaint, quiet street in the most famous geisha district in the world is ruined by power lines and a telephone pole.

Cities throughout the world, from London to New York, have learned to place electric wires underground, thus preserving the view of the facades and atmosphere of the streets. Japan has not. Cities outside Japan have learned to build bridges, roads, stations, and other public works projects in such a way as to preserve and fit into the character of a place, while Japanese cities have not (see for example, Tower Bridge. For the wrong way to do it, see Kyoto Station). Cities around the world have learned to build the projects you need and not the ones you don’t. To preserve and protect those things that your community should be proud of, that distinguish it, that attract tourists, and to not sink that money into the excessively large, extravagant, and totally out of place cultural halls, etc that can be found today in all the wrong places in Japan.

I do worry a little about Alex’s renovation projects, in the sense that it is easy to fall into the trap of creating a sort of theme park, a false reproduction of traditional life, rather than actually supporting the traditional life in a given place. Alex talks about revamping a number of homes on the island of Ojika, to make them livable rentable spaces for tourists, and about how he’s going to use the 8th century harbor as the arrival point, transforming one particular structure into, not a “welcome center” per se, but a space for restaurants and the like catering specifically to these tourists… and it all sounds just a little too planned. Still, that said, listening to Alex more, and reading more about the project(s) online, etc, one comes to realize that he does in fact know what he’s doing, and that he will not allow this to become a theme park. In fact, he is the last person I’d expect to have any taste for tacky souveniers or the tacky false-traditional-architecture shops that sell them.

Minato Mirai (“Port of the Future”) in Yokohama. Manga-chiku, or just ultramodern?

I have only two major protests against what Alex had to say yesterday. One, he has little affection for anything related to the manga/anime-aesthetic, and accuses essentially everything post- or ultra-modern in Japan, i.e. the current building boom design trend, of being manga-chiku. I think his hatred of Kyoto Station is well-founded, as is his assertion that Kyoto hates Kyoto (京都は京都が嫌いどいす) – the city hates being seen as traditional, cultural and historical and strives to be modern but, as I have myself argued on numerous occasions, it fails to modernize gracefully or beautifully or even effectively; it refuses to maintain or cultivate its image as a cultural & historical center, instead building the ultra-hideous Kyoto Tower, and Kyoto Station which is essentially a denial in every way possible of Kyoto’s character and identity. But, returning to the point, Kerr accuses everything from Kameoka Station to the proposed highways over the historical bay at Tamanoura, the last remaining Edo-period-style port in the country, of being manga-inspired, and thus anathema to his tastes. This despite the fact that they are not all that manga-esque in style, and that the world of anime, manga, and Japanese pop culture more widely is not something to be reviled; it’s actually quite interesting, exciting, colorful, intriguing in its own way.

Rooftops in Shanghai. Courtesy of the Silk Road Collection.

My second quibble has to do with the way he represented China in tonight’s presentation. He showed the rooftops of a Chinese city, traditional tile roofs as far as the eye could see, no concrete 1960s style towers or even powerlines obscuring the view, a view not too different from what Kyoto would have looked like only a few decades ago. He showed a gorgeous Shanghai street, lined with trees with full, bushy green boughs, and talked about how the Japanese chop off the branches of their trees so they won’t drop leaves all over and mess up the streets. As a representation of what Japan once was, what it should be, and what it could be again, I think it a beautiful and powerful comparison. However, the implication is that he thinks that China is doing something right when it comes to development and modernization; I sincerely hope that Alex does not believe this, because he is dead wrong. I believe that the only reason those traditional style buildings are still there is because the machine of Chinese “modernization” hasn’t reached them yet. A nation which prides itself on its steel production and other such outdated (and filthy, polluting) notions of “modernity”, where cities grow at an incredible, amazing rate, their old traditional, historical, cultural character disappearing overnight, is not where you will find an enlightened post-modernist philosophy of protection or rejuvenation of tradition. In fact, given China’s history when it comes to Cultural Revolutions, the express rejection of tradition, the rewriting and twisting of history, and the borderline maniacal drive to modernize, it is the last place one should expect to find respect for tradition. In many ways, China’s path of progress and attitude regarding it are little different from where Japan was 30-50 years ago. China is behind the curve; not ahead of it.

Moving on, I should like to mention Alex’s newest project before I forget about it. The town of Ojika, which consists of two tiny islands in Nagasaki Prefecture, has apparently approached Alex’s organization to help them organize the rejuvenation and maintenance of their traditional town, in order to bring healthy, sustainable tourism, and to essentially save the town. Ojika is hardly famous, but it is of great historical significance as the home for many centuries of the kakure Christians, or “hidden Christians”, who fled from mainland Japan when Christianity was banned in the 1630s, and continued practicing in secret until the 1870s, when it was legalized again. A beautiful church still remains on the island, and for those willing and able to make the trip (this isn’t exactly a day trip from Kyoto; more like a train to a bus to a ferry or something like that from even Nagasaki City itself), it seems an incredible place to visit. The best news? Unlike the machiya Alex’s organization manages in Kyoto and rents out for upwards of $300/night, there are intentions to make homes in Ojika available for backpacker prices, whatever that means. I definitely look forward to making it out there.

Most photos my own. Thanks to Matsumoto-sensei for the Sankeien interior photo, and to The Silk Road Collection for their Shanghai photo. Portait of Kerr also not taken by me.

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Urban Decay in Japan

A friend of mine from our time in Yokohama turned me on to the aesthetic appeal, and beyond that, the cultural, social, historical curiosity, of abandoned buildings and urban decay.

While much of Japan is sparkling, shining and new, and much of it is traditional, natural, serene and historical, there is also much that is decaying. Not that this goes on any more in Japan than elsewhere; in fact, just looking around at New York City, it is evident every day that New York has a long way to go before it can even begin to rival Tokyo for its cleanliness, newness, and overall state of maintenance and repair.

Today, I came across a website called 「廃墟デフレスパイラル｣ (haikyo defure supairaru, or “Ruins, Deflation Spiral”), which features tons of intriguing, interesting, and beautiful pictures of abandoned buildings and other sites of urban decay and the like across Japan.

I’m entertained by the name – while Japan remains the #2 economy in the world, the Japanese have been agonizing over their situation, using terribly gloomy if not all-out apocalyptic terms like “deflation spiral” for the last 20 years. .. The Land of the Rising Sun needs to stop acting like the Land of the Setting Sun – optimism, i.e. a sunny outlook is needed here, not pessimism, gloom, and a nostalgia for the economically prosperous but fashionably disastrous 1980s.

Avid enthusiasts of Japanese urban decay will already be familiar with Gunkanjima (“Battleship Island”), an abandoned entire island, which once supported a coal mining town, the ruins of which now bear a remarkable resemblance to the towers and contours of a battleship, when the island is viewed from a distance.

The abandoned site via which I was first informed of this site was this one: an abandoned, decaying amusement park somewhere in Tōhoku.

I particularly like this photo of the abandoned Imari Shipyards in Saga Prefecture.

Of course, you don’t have to go far out of your way to these remote sites to discover examples of urban decay in Japan. It’s basically everywhere.

Start near where I lived in Yokohama, and take a look around.

I’ve started you off looking at the concrete elevated highway which runs over the Nakamuragawa, blocking sunlight to the river and creating an overall feeling of darkness, gloom, and urban decay even if the elevated highway itself is not decaying per se. Also, just below the road, in the river, one of the sketchiest things I have ever seen – a decaying, sketchy old boat where you can pay some small fee to “rest” for a “short time”. That’s a euphemism; if you don’t get it, note that we’re not too far from the city’s red light district, another hotbed of urban decay, albeit decay that’s not quite as intriguing or as photogenic as the stuff on that website.

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Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum

A repost from “Quirky Japan Blog“, a blog which can always be counted upon for glimpses into interesting and wacky aspects of Japanese life; written by the author of a guide to Love Hotels. In today’s post, Quirky Japan brings us to the Edo-Tokyo Tatemono-en (Edo-Tokyo Buildings Garden), in Koganei, a large open-air, “park” for lack of a better word, featuring a number of full-size buildings of various styles and periods for visitors to explore.

I’d never heard of this – or the Nihon Minka-en he also mentions, which focuses on older Edo period style buildings – and am quite curious to check it out the next time I should happen to be in Japan.

Apparently, Miyazaki Hayao came here for inspiration while working on Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi (“Spirited Away”). That influence is fully evident in this photo of a corridor in the home of former Prime Minister Takahashi Korekiyo, one of the many buildings on the grounds.

While there are plenty of places one can go to see traditional buildings, starting with Kyoto, Kanazawa, Kamakura, and Kawagoe, and dozens of towns that don’t start with K, it is not particularly common to have such access to buildings, furnished as they might have been in an earlier age, and furnished as well with intricate descriptions of the architecture, the objects within, and the life and activities that would have gone on inside the house. Seems a rather worthwhile thing to check out.

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New Kabukiza will incorporate an office tower

The Yomiuri Shimbun reports today that the rebuilt Kabuki-za, scheduled to be completed in spring 2013, will incorporate a 29-floor, 150 meter office tower. The tower will reflect a simple glass aesthetic, while the four stories of the theatre itself will be reconstructed relatively faithfully to the original 1889 design, heavily inspired by Azuchi-Momoyama era (late 16th century) castles.

The new theatre will have 2000 seats, roughly the same number as the old theatre, and “barrier-free” accommodations are included in the design to make the new building more accessible to elderly and disabled patrons.

Yomiuri Shimbun article original text:
　老朽化のため建て替えが決まっている歌舞伎座（東京都中央区銀座）の改築計画の概要が２８日、明らかになった。

　２０１３年春の完成を目指す新しい歌舞伎座は、地上約１５０メートル、２９階のオフィス棟と、現在の瓦屋根や弓形にそり曲がった唐破風(からはふ)の外観を残した劇場（４階）の複合施設。地下で地下鉄日比谷線の東銀座駅と連絡し、高齢者らに配慮してバリアフリー化する。客席数は今の劇場とほぼ同じ２０００席程度。オフィス棟はガラス張りのシンプルな外観となる。劇場の屋上部分には和風庭園も設ける。

　１８８９年から続く歌舞伎座は、１９５１年に建てられた現在の建物で４代目で２００２年に国の登録有形文化財に指定された。今月から来年４月まで「さよなら公演」が開かれている。
（2009年1月28日11時53分 読売新聞）

I hope I am able to be there for the grand re-opening.

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