Japanese Art: Kanazawa and DC

The Art of Japan: Kanazawa is a beautiful new website which has emerged recently. It includes numerous pages about a myriad of aspects of traditional and contemporary arts and culture in and around Kanazawa, the capital city of Japan’s Ishikawa prefecture, and is constantly being updated.

Above: The tsutsumi-mon, or “drum gate”, outside Kanazawa Station. A beautiful example of traditional lacquer arts combining with contemporary architectural creativity & innovation to represent a city as wholly modern, but drawing upon a rich past. Something Kyoto Station entirely fails to do. Photo taken myself, during my one brief visit to Kanazawa, in January 2008.

Back in February, the Art of Japan Kanazawa staff collaborated with Japan Society in New York to produce what looks like an exquisite evening of traditional and contemporary culture – including displays of Ishikawa crafts (pottery, lacquerware, etc.), a butoh performance, and saké served by a professional geisha from Kanazawa, one of the few cities which still has an active geisha district. How I would have loved to be there for such an event.

Other posts focus on beautiful and interesting places in the city, local events, and arts.

Boy, I so wish I could be in Kanazawa (or Kyoto, or Naha, or half a dozen other places) right now, to have the opportunities to explore such a city, to attend these events, to be surrounded by and immersed in these arts and goings-on. But more than that, I wish I could work for a project like Arts of Japan Kanazawa. It may not be the most prestigious thing (like being a professor or a curator at a major institution), but who cares? How I would love to be constantly immersed, engaged, with a vibrant Japanese arts & culture community, and to make a living at it. I wonder how many other cities have similar projects, similar websites.

….

Meanwhile, for sadly only a very short time, an incredibly major Japanese artwork is on display at the National Gallery in Washington DC. The “Colorful Realm of Living Beings” (動植綵絵, dôshoku sai-e), a National Treasure of Japan, is a series of thirty hanging scroll paintings by Itô Jakuchû (1716-1800), completed over the course of ten years. They are accompanied at the National Gallery by a triptych of hanging scrolls depicting Buddhas, on loan from Shôkoku-ji, a major Zen temple in Kyoto. The works are easily among the most famous of Japanese artworks, included in many if not all survey textbooks of Japanese art history; I don’t think it’s absurd to compare them to being a Japanese equivalent of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night,” but multiplied times 33, filling a room, and creating their own atmosphere.

Just seeing pictures of the installation, I can imagine the setting Jakuchû is said to have aimed to create – of the Buddha presiding before all the living beings of the world, and preaching to them. Standing in this room, you are surrounded by incredible images of a myriad of living beings, from roosters and peacocks described in exquisite detail, sketched from life, to fish, insects, and lizards in a variety of undersea and overland environments, and you feel that you too are in the presence of the Buddha.

One could easily write pages and pages about Jakuchû, his life, his art, but I’ll leave it for now. Check out my Samurai-Archives Wiki article on the artist, and the following:

As usual, embedding doesn’t seem to be working properly, but here is a link to a PBS has a wonderful brief video about the exhibition, including snippets of an interview with guest curator, Harvard professor Yukio Lippit: 18th Century Japanese Scrolls Make Rare U.S. Appearance.

I had no idea that a National Treasure could ever leave Japan – this is the first time that these works are on display, all together, anywhere outside of Japan, and it is incredible that this is happening. I wish I could be there.

The “Colorful World of Living Beings” is on display until April 29, in conjunction with the 100th anniversary Washington DC Cherry Blossom Festival.

Murakami Haruki speaks at the University of Hawai’i

Last week was a good week for super high-profile visitors to our campus. Murakami Haruki, quite possibly the most popular living Japanese author the world over, has been here this term (or this whole school year?) as a “writer-in-residence” with the East Asian Languages & Literatures department. I’ve read and very much enjoyed several of his novels, but I cannot say that I really know that much about him. I guess, I’ve gathered over the last several months, that he seems to be somewhat reclusive. There are rumors that he has something against the Japanese media, and for that reason does not do many (or any) public appearances in Japan, book signings, or the like, and that he tends to avoid the limelight in general. He has been quietly visiting Japanese language and literature classes on campus all year, but up until a few weeks ago, I had not heard anything about any larger public talk, and was given the impression that he most likely would not do one, since it wasn’t something he tends to do. Even at the talk, once he did agree to do it, he seemed quite strict about his personal request – not the venue’s policy, but Murakami’s direct request – that there be no photography or recording of any kind. I was amazed that he was willing to take time to sign books afterwards. I hear that he doesn’t do booksignings in Japan, hardly ever. Huge thanks to Miz Yvette for sharing with me one of her books to get signed – I didn’t bring one, as I didn’t have one to bring (I don’t read fiction during the school year) and didn’t expect there to be a book signing.

Murakami spoke briefly about his thoughts on the process of writing, and such. I had hoped for this to be longer, and more insightful – for this to be the main part of the event. I would have loved to be able to come here and share with you new insights into how to interpret and appreciate his books, or into who he is as a writer. But, I’m afraid I couldn’t really follow most of what he was saying. His English is nearly flawless. That was not a problem. But the content of what he was saying was just hard to follow. Something about being fascinated by beautiful yet completely useless, absurd structures such as the idea of a bridge under water? I’d hoped that someday, years from now, I would find myself in a conversation about Murakami, and could be able to say, “oh, I heard him speak once, and I gained this great insight about his work,” or “.. and he had this great quote. He said…” But, alas, there was none of the that.

The main event of the evening was a reading of two of his decades-old short stories, written around the time of his first marathon, the 1983 (I think) Honolulu Marathon. He read each story in Japanese, alternating sections with Prof. Ken Ito, a literature professor here at the University of Hawaii, who read from an English translation. I thought Murakami should have spoken more slowly, and more clearly, but my advisor said he had no trouble understanding him, and that the speed and style of his reading gave it appropriate energy, character, and drama. So, I guess this says more about my waning language skills than anything else…

The first story, “Mirror” (Kagami), is a sort of ghost story, featuring a school security guard who is attacked by his own reflection in a mirror. The story itself was a bit meh, though Murakami, as usual, reveals his brilliant insights into the strangenesses of everyday life, as he talks about the question of which one is real and which is the reflection; the protagonist expresses his anguish and fear as he finds himself following the actions of the man in the mirror, rather than the reverse. I particularly liked the framing device for this story, which reads as though you have broken into the middle of a much longer story or scene of people sitting around each telling different ghost stories. This is the only one written down and published, but it starts out in media res, if I have my usage of that term correctly, with the protagonist talking about how everyone else has already shared their stories, and he himself has never actually seen a ghost, nor had premonitions, but he did have this strange experience this one time…

The second story I found much more interesting and rewarding. Tongariyaki, awkwardly translated as “Sharpie Cakes,” is a story about a fictional commercial brand sweet or pastry, akin, I imagined in my mind, to Twinkies, though perhaps Murakami had something more traditional in mind, like taiyaki. (Tongari means ‘pointy’, and yaki means ‘grilled’, so, it’s a sort of nonsense word that sounds like it could be a real pastry / treat). I definitely suggest reading the story yourself, and I apologize to just summarize and ruin the ending here, but, essentially, it is about a man who proposes a new type of tongariyaki, a new, updated, version of the classic pastry, and while the staff of the tongariyaki company like it very much, they take him and his creation to a secret room in the company compound, which is full of crows. A very particular kind of crow, which only eats tongariyaki, and only “real” tongariyaki. If his creation is not accepted as being a valid variation, a valid type of tongariyaki, the crows will tear him apart. The story being so weird and fantastic, and humorous, I didn’t quite make the connection until after the reading ended, and Murakami added some extra remarks. My friend turned to me and said “I’ve got some crows like that in my life. They’re called my thesis committee.” It’s true. Substitute scholarship for the tongari cakes, her or I for the protagonist, and the thesis committee for the crows. Or substitute fiction writing for the cakes, Murakami for the protagonist, and publishers & critics for the crows. This is how it has to be because this is how it has always been done, and this is the way we have always liked it. And if we don’t like it, we tear you apart. …. Oh, how I wish I could just write what I wanted to write, and not have to worry about it being accepted.

There was a brief Q&A, in which I think the most interesting question was one about Murakami’s opinions on the quality of the published translations of his works. The fellow who asked the question has published his thoughts on the whole event here. Murakami answered something to the effect of that, so long as you enjoy it, it’s a good translation. Everyone laughed. But the next audience member to speak said that she has read several of his stories in both English and Japanese, and that they read as very different. Maybe this is just a function of the texture, the flavor, the atmosphere, the cultural nuance of the language – but maybe the two versions really are that different. I think it doesn’t really address the question to say “so long as you enjoy it, it’s a good translation.” I could read a story by George RR Martin and enjoy it quite thoroughly, but that doesn’t make it a good translation of a Murakami novel – that makes it a very enjoyable story that’s entirely different from what Murakami wrote in Japanese. … I think he was just disinterested in answering questions, and more to the point, disinterested in revealing anything more about himself, his attitudes, his insights. Which was a shame. That’s truly what I came there for – yes, the special opportunity to simply say that I have seen him speak, have shaken his hand, have spoken to him directly, however briefly – but also for the ability to gain some new or different insights into who he is, his attitudes, his thoughts on writing. His thoughts on culture, or on politics.

Ah, well. shou-ga-nai, as they say. Nevertheless, I look forward to reading some more of his work this summer.

Pillars of Peace – The Dalai Lama Comes to Hawaiʻi

The Dalai Lama is in Hawaii this weekend, and I was fortunate to get to go to hear him speak earlier today. I am not necessarily particularly a “follower”, and certainly not a devotee. I wish I could say that I felt his presence, that he had some kind of powerful aura, as others often say, that hearing him speak changes their lives. But, as he himself says, he is just a human being, the same as each of us. Still, he is an immensely famous figure, and so to get to see him in person, to get to say that I have seen him in person, is an experience I shall treasure.

His visit is the inaugural event of a new series, called Pillars of Peace, which local organizations here in Hawaii are trying to get started. They hope, in future, to bring more great leaders and speakers, to speak about various subjects, and to promote peace. I wish them luck. If there’s one thing to be said for today’s event, the production values were incredible for a local Hawaiian effort. Very clean, slick graphics, no technical difficulties, and some pretty high profile guest entertainers (incl. Jake Shimabukuro and Jack Johnson) before the show. The emcee could have been just a little more professional, and a little less “local boy”/pidgin/”howzit brah” in his speech patterns, but, still, overall, this event was I think the cleanest, sleekest event I’ve attended in Hawaii. It sets an example that I think a lot of other local efforts could afford to try to follow.

The program began with a series of performances from local entertainers, including a pre-recorded video performance by Jake Shimabukuro, a new composition that he composed specifically for this occasion entitled “Playing with Less,” in which he only uses three of the ukulele’s four strings; it is a beautiful song, and is meant to symbolize our need to find happiness with “less,” i.e. that we don’t need material possessions or monetary wealth to be happy. A beautiful, super cute music video of elementary school kids from Lana’i Island singing an original composition about peace and love was quite touching. Entitled “Singing to the World,” the song contains lyrics apparently written by the 4th graders themselves, and it’s just beautiful.

The pre-show also included quotes about peace from various world leaders and other historical figures, and I was happy to see a few from Israelis or Jews, including Moshe Dayan (“If you want to make peace, you don’t talk to your friends. You talk to your enemies.”) and Yehudi Menuhin. My sincere thanks to the Pillars of Peace organization and the Dalai Lama for the political message this sends, that they would not exclude such figures.

Sadly, we were not allowed to take any photos during the event, and, though I had hoped there might be video available online afterwards, it appears they are only providing a live stream at the time of the event. However, you can still watch two of his talks tomorrow (Sunday, April 15, Hawaii time) here on the Pillars of Peace website.

I hope I am not being too crass to say that the Dalai Lama did not say anything today I have not heard before; what I heard was no amazing insights, no superhuman wisdom. But, it was encouraging, reassuring, and uplifting to hear what he had to say on certain points; I only wish that more people lived by the ideals he espoused in today’s talk.

Despite being a spiritual leader, and a religious icon, educated his entire life in the traditional ways of Buddhist philosophy and Buddhist religious belief, His Holiness spoke out against the idea that “secularism” is in any way an attack on religion. He defended the idea, to the contrary, that secularism, on which the Constitution of India is based (and on which our own “separation of church & state” is based, though many fail to understand it), means respecting those of all religions, as well as those who are non-believers. I don’t know that he said it directly, but you could feel that he was talking to the Christians, Muslims, Orthodox Jews, and others of the world who would insist that their religion is better, or that their government, their society should be organized around their religious beliefs. The Dalai Lama assured us that we are all human beings, that we all share in that, and that morality and ethics comes out of human nature, and not out of religion – that non-believers are no less moral or ethical than those who are religious.

And he went further, decrying those who feign serious, devout religiosity while they are in church, mosque, temple, or synagogue, and who then, in their everyday lives, lie and cheat, exploit and bully. These people, he said quite explicitly, are not truly religious. They are not true to their religions.

His Holiness emphasized the importance of education and science over prayer and meditation, and spoke to how science and education serve to narrow the gap between appearances (illusion, belief, or assumptions) and reality. He spoke of respecting Nature, and not being too prideful to think we can control it or ward it off with our superior engineering. Human beings, after all, are a product of nature. But, without explicitly addressing Evolution (vs creationism) or the debates on climate change, he praised scientific discovery and technological wonders, something that I think many religious leaders around the world, and especially here in the United States, could learn to emulate. Science is not opposed to religion, and religion should not oppose science. Science helps us understand the world around us, and helps us discover technologies that make our lives better. Scientists are not to be disbelieved or distrusted, and we should employ our incredible human capacity for *Reason*, and not purely prayer or meditation, in the way we lead our lives, look towards the future, and look to solve problems.

Switching gears, His Holiness, of course, as we all know, advocates peaceful solutions to disagreements and problems, rather than violence. He speaks of diplomacy, and talking things out. One of the few questions he answered today (selected ahead of time from the internet, or from students in attendance) asked what his advice would be to those living in countries such as Egypt, where the more or less peaceful protests of the Arab Spring have overthrown totalitarian regimes and provided the people with the freedom to set a new path. He advised that they forget about the past, put behind them old differences, and that they unite to work together to forge a new path, looking to practical concerns, and setting forth to first attend to economic development, and to education. He did not explicitly speak of Sunnis vs Shiites or any other specific “differences,” but it is easy to imagine that this is the sort of thing he meant. I hope that we might see such a thing emerge in Egypt, and elsewhere in the Middle East, though, frankly, I am not optimistic.

The event ended with His Holiness being presented with a huge conch shell, a special, very Hawaiian gift. I was disappointed, and truly surprised, that there was no hula, ‘oli, or mele to open or conclude the event, but this touch of native Hawaiian culture, acknowledging the spirit and identity of the land, was beautiful, and more than appropriate. The annual Merrie Monarch hula competition ended today, and there is plenty of hula to be found on YouTube. When I first came here to Hawaii, I must admit, I had very little interest in such things, but now, I know I am going to miss it. I wish we had such rich spiritual traditions to draw from on the mainland, so as to provide our special guests with something as spiritually, culturally, deeply New York as the hula, the conch shell, or the lei is of Hawaii.

It is not easy to fully embody the virtues the Dalai Lama proposes we all should live our lives by. But, I think the key thing is that we try.

Visiting the New Kabuki-za

No, I haven’t visited yet. I wish. It doesn’t open until 2013. Just, watching a very PR-laced video about the plans for the new Kabuki-za. I’m sad to see the old one go, and still sad that I never got to attend the sayonara performances/ceremonies. But, I’m glad at least that I can say that I’ve experienced the old one (whereas my potential former students, for example, will not be able to).

While a video like this certainly makes me feel all dirty and commercialized and advertised-to, at the end of the day, I think the new theatre is going to be nice. There would be no point in ruining it in any way, and I’m sure that the actors, or someone else representing the view of the traditional arts and such, have been consulted extensively. I’m not saying I’m totally onboard, like “woohoo let’s knock everything down and rebuild it all super fancy pretty,” but, given that you and I had no say in it, and it’s been done, I do look forward to going there for shows again, and seeing the new gallery, International Culture Center, and rooftop garden. From what little I’ve read/seen, it sounds like some of the most major changes to the visitor experience are simply the installation of greater handicapped access, more toilets, more direct access into the theatre from the subway (through a new underground basement lobby), and such.

Mainly, the real point of this post, is to say that watching a video like this, or otherwise thinking about Kabuki-za (or other theatres) really makes me feel like I want, someday, to be enough of a bigshot professor or curator or whatever that I will end up spending time backstage or in the offices not as a special guest on a one-time tour (though that would be awesome), but in some more regular way. I wonder if that’s too much to hope for. I wonder how many times James Brandon or Julie Iezzi have been backstage at Kabuki-za.

Being Taikomochi

As my more regular readers known, last year (Spring 2011), I was immensely fortunate to get to take part in a kabuki production here at the University of Hawaii. I played the taikomochi, and also got to serve as dramaturg for the show.

Having never heard the term before, as soon as I found out I was playing a taikomochi, I did a little research, and wrote a blog post explaining my findings. In summary, a taikomochi was the guy at the teahouse who helped facilitate things, helping to make arrangements/appointments, communicating between restaurants (venues) and the teahouses, between clients and courtesans, and sometimes sitting with a party and helping make small-talk, or playing the fool to help provide entertainment.

But I had no idea that the term was still used today, outside of traditional contexts (geisha houses, kabuki), as a regular everyday word. Apparently, it is used today to mean someone who is really good at buttering people up, always knowing the right thing to say to make someone else feel good about themselves. I think the connection to the teahouse context is obvious. A large part of the taikomochi’s job in the teahouse was to make everything go smoothly for the client, to make sure he had a good time, whether that means making sure that arrangements/appointments go smoothly, or making sure that conversation flows nicely at the party.

Wow. My big thanks to my friend Yasu, for happening by chance to bring up this word in conversation, and for explaining it.

NYT Review of Kabuki Dance at Japan Society

New York Times dance critic Alastair Macaulay shares with us today his review of a series of performances by Bandô Kotoji at Japan Society in New York last week.

I imagine the performances were marketed as “Kabuki Dance” so as to help attract potential audiences, and to help people get a sense of what it was they were going to see. Though this dance form is known in Japan as nihon buyô (lit. “Japan dance”), it seems not uncommon at all in English to refer to it as “kabuki dance.” There is merit in this, as buyô is extremely closely related to kabuki. Many of the dances in buyô come directly from the kabuki theatre – that is to say, many of these dances are taken directly from dance segments in longer plays – and the forms are essentially identical, so far as I know, in the sense that all professional kabuki actors train extensively in nihon buyô and employ buyô movements and style in their movement on stage.

Yet, this application of the term “kabuki dance” can lead to confusion, and in Mr. Macaulay’s review, it seems to have done just that. He writes “Many Westerners assume that Kabuki is an all-male genre, with female roles taken by male players in the onnagata tradition. Mr. Bando’s troupe, however, is not the first I have seen to feature women.” As a specialist (I’m assuming) in Western/modern dance, I cannot blame him for not knowing the intricacies of Japanese art forms, though, then again, as a dance critic with such a prominent paper as the New York Times, and as someone who’s reviewing a “kabuki dance” performance, perhaps we might expect him to do just a little more research. In fact, professional kabuki theatre remains wholly the realm of men, and dance is a separate story. There are all=women kabuki troupes, and regional/local (jishibai) troupes which include women, but the chief professional, official, “core” kabuki, as performed at Kabuki-za and the National Theatre, and as performed on rare occasions on the road (e.g. in New York and Washington DC in 2007), remains an all-male affair, making use of onnagata to play the male roles.

In the remainder of the review, Macaulay offers some fascinating insights into questions behind Westerners’ reception of kabuki. He writes, “So when Westerners find they like some Kabuki, are they admiring something that has been subtly Westernized in unascertainable ways? When a Kabuki performance leaves us cold, is that because we’re seeing something authentic but distanced from our sensibilities, or because we are simply seeing a poor rendition?” Can we ever fully set aside our Western upbringing / identity / cultural background, and appreciate Kabuki as a Japanese would, i.e. as it is meant to be appreciated? Now that I write this out, I realize it sounds like a Nihonjinron argument, albeit phrased by an American. I’d rather not go down that road. Still, I appreciate very much Mr. Macaulay’s investigations, and questioning what it is he enjoys in the kabuki, and how it is that he engages with it, as a Westerner. We must acknowledge our own background, our own biases, and throw objectivity out of the window in order to appreciate how it is that we react to, appreciate, and judge art forms, whether they be “foreign” or from a more familiar source.

I regret that I was not able to be in New York for this performance (or in San Francisco or LA for other performances & workshops which took place recently). You can’t be everywhere at once, of course, but being in a major world city is a start. I hope that those who attended enjoyed it, got a lot out of it, and I hope to be able to see such performances, and take part in nihon buyô / kabuki workshops again myself soon.

For some reason it does not seem to be listed anywhere online, but in fact, our own buyô / kabuki movement teacher, Onoe Kikunobu-sensei, (who I studied under in preparation for the kabuki production last year) will be holding a recital along with her troupe here in Honolulu, on Easter Sunday, at Orvis Auditorium (Univ. of Hawaii at Manoa, Music building).

NCC Guide

The North American Coordinating Council on Japanese Library Resources (NCC) has published a new version of its online “Guide to Research Access in Japan’s major Museums, Libraries and Archives (MLAs) with links to their key Websites.”

There’s tons of stuff in here, and I’m sure that in my random poking around I’ve missed some things that might be of particular usefulness or importance, but the site includes:

*A brief guide to visiting Japanese institutions, including how to plan for your visit, how to find which institutions have the materials you’re looking for, and reminding us to look into whether a letter of introduction is necessary, as well as discussing briefly how to obtain longer-term official affiliation with a Japanese institution.

*A rather extensive list of research resources, including Cultural Organizations, sources of Funding, and Discussion Groups

*A list of institutions in Japan, from Aoyama Gakuin to Waseda.

*A wonderful guide to requesting image use permissions from Japanese institutions, complete with fillable templates for letters or forms asking for permission.

I know this blog post right here doesn’t look all that impressive or anything, but I promise, this NCC website is a majorly useful resource. Go take a look, and add it to your bookmarks. I’ve certainly added it to mine.