Daigoji (醍醐寺)

A temple is a quiet place by design.  Add to that quietness the dimension of snow and you have entered a world so incredibly peaceful you have to check your pulse to make sure you are still alive, that you haven't somehow crossed into the next life.

I knew it was going to snow.  I saw it in the clouds the evening before.  When I opened the drapes in the morning there was already a thin blanket over my garden.  I'd seen photos of the temples and gardens of Kyoto covered in snow, but so far this winter the snowfall had only been light dustings, disappearing a few hours later.  This was a proper snow.  It was not aggressive accompanied by blustery winds.  No.  As one would expect in Japan it was delicate, elegant.  It was however rather wet, unlike the snow in the Alps or even the Sierras.

While most people prepared for a day indoors, warm and cozy, I set out for Daigoji Temple which is not too far from my home in Uji.  I was hoping for something gorgeous and otherworldly and that is exactly what I got.  The faded orange of this 10th Century temple against the white of the fresh snow and the wet, almost black branches of the trees was a study in contrasts.  I was almost completely alone in this tranquil environment.

The crunch of the snow beneath my feet.
My warm breath hanging in the air.
The damp cold biting my toes through two layers of socks.
Tree branches sagging with the weight of a million snow flakes, then dropping them all at once when it is too much to bear.

There is something meditative about falling snow.  Your perception of depth is challenged as your eyes focus and refocus on the flakes falling near your face and at a distance.  There is a weightlessness too.  As you stare at the snow falling you get the sense you are rising, that the snow is not coming down, but you are going up.  Strange, hypnotic.

Wabi-sabi

"Wabi-sabi suggests sentiments of desolation and solitude, positive characteristics in Mahayana Buddhism representing liberation from a material world and transcendence to a simpler life."

Wabi-sabi is a concept I've been obsessed with since Ito-san casually introduced me to it a few months ago.  Like many words, phrases and concepts in Japanese it is nearly impossible to explain or define, even in Japanese.  Part of the mystique, I suppose.  Ask any Japanese person about wabi-sabi and they will invariably say, "Ah, muzukashii desu."  (Ah, that is difficult).  For me, with my limited understanding of it, wabi-sabi is Japan.  It is the very essence of all things Japanese.  It is that je ne sais quoi that I love about this country and its ways.  What's odd is I feel I've known wabi-sabi my whole life; I just didn't know there was a term for it, and that the term was Japanese.

Author Leonard Koren wrote a thin volume on the subject in 1994 which I purchased.  He describes it thusly:

"Wabi-sabi is the quintessential Japanese aesthetic.  It is a beauty of things imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete.  It is a beauty of things modest and humble.  It is a beauty of things unconventional."

Nihon no eigakan

About this time every year I go on a movie binge, trying to catch all the films nominated for an Academy Award.  Well, all the ones that sound interesting anyway.  This task, which I never complete, and sometimes never even start, is especially difficult when living in Japan.  Many films are never released here, others have a delayed release of up to 6 months.

Tonight I went to see my first American film in Japan.  I have already seen several Japanese films here.  While the Japanese cineplex may appear on the surface to be very similar to their American counterpart, there are some subtle differences.

I went to Toho Cinemas which is a big chain with theaters across the country.  The first thing that struck me was the total absence of a box office.  Tickets are purchased at a kiosk not unlike something you'd find at an airport self-check-in.  I hate these machines in any venue in any country.  It removes the humanity from whatever transaction you are making.  In a country that still has uniformed elevator drivers and crossing guards this was disappointing.

Tickets seem to be a little more expensive than the US: ¥1,800 ($17.50).

The concessions are a bit more elaborate. No, there is not sushi.  There are however hotdogs and beer.  I haven't had a beer in a movie theatre since I was 16 (?) in Germany.  I think there are some cool movie theaters in Brooklyn that now serve beer and wine.  I love the idea, and of course I drank a beer tonight, but it's like watching a live soccer match after drinking a few beers: you have to use the toilet, but don't dare leave for fear of missing something.  Popcorn here comes in a variety of flavors including barbecue (?!).  I went with the traditional salt (no butter), of course.

I was hoping for something less than the advertising assault that one now gets in any American big chain movie theatre.  No.  There were a good 20 minutes of advertisements and trailers.  The ads are more focused and self-promoting.  So, if there were 10 minutes of ads and 10 minutes of trailers, 90% of the ads were for or about Toho Cinemas.  Maybe because the ads were in Japanese and I couldn't understand what was being flogged it didn't bother me so much.  A few of the trailers for American films were preceded by 30 second spots by the director introducing their latest film and hoping everyone in Japan would go see it.  Interesting.  Ben Stiller even spoke a bit of Japanese.  A good 75% of the film trailers, American or Japanese, were Action/Thriller films with insane visual effects, including a new "Godzilla" and a new "Robocop".  Really?  Yes, Hollywood has completely run out of ideas.

The house lights do not come up even half way until the very last credit has run by.

Oh, and the film - "American Hustle" - was sugoi!  Go see it.

Robert no uchi (reprise)

Winter at Nanzenji (南禅寺)

You may have wondered if Kyoto was as beautiful in winter as it is in autumn.  While the tourists, Japanese included, flock to Kyoto in the autumn for the changing leaves and again in the spring for the sakura (cherry blossoms), I think most would agree that each season has its own unique beauty and charm.  I think to say one is more beautiful than the other is really to miss something.

There is a lovely quietness to winter.  There is something solemn about it.  There is weight.  There is clarity in winter, everything exposed, the bare trees cutting up the silver sky.  With snow everything becomes high-contrast, like a black-and-white film, sharp, clean.  But it is also soft and slightly out of focus, your breath and low clouds clinging to the day.

Winter is something to celebrate as much as autumn or any season.  Listen to it speak.

Summer, Saisho-in

The evening bell, solemn and bronze

in the grandfather temple down the hill,

sounds dimly here.

Slow beat of the mountain's heart, perhaps,

or determined pulse of pine tree (gift of the birds)

growing out of the crotch of the slippery monkey tree.

All one, perhaps--

bell, mountain, tree

and steady cicada vibrato

and little white dog

and quiet artist-priest, carver of Noh masks,

fashioning a bamboo crutch for the ancient peach tree--

symbol of strength, symbol of concern.

All cool under nodding crowns of the vertical forest.

all seeking in this place,

all finding in this place--

hidden yet open to all--

the spirit in the cedar's heart.

- Unknown

ありがとう ございます / Thank you very much

この度はbe京都にて行われた私の個展”First Impressions”に沢山の方にお越し頂き、心よりお礼申し上げます。皆様の温かいご支援、ご関心やご高配を賜り誠に有難うございました。私にとってアメリカ以外の国で行う初めての個展がどのようなものになるのか想像もできず不安もありましたが、この度の個展は今まで行った私の個展の中でも最高のものになったと思っています。

このような経験ができた事に心より感謝しています。

有難うございました。

また今回の個展を開くにあたり、私の作品を披露する機会を与えてくださったギャラリー、be京都のディレクターである岡元さんとそれ実現する為に力を貸してくれた友人である西村 絵美子さん、また友人を紹介してくれたブルックリンにいる春日亜希さんにこの場を借りてお礼を申し上げます。

ありがとう ございます.  すぐに あいましょぅ.

I wanted to thank everyone that came by be-kyoto gallery this last week to see my exhibition "First Impressions".  I was really touched by the support, the interest and the respect.  I didn't quite know what to expect as it was my first exhibition outside of the US.  I can honestly say without any sentimentality that this was the best exhibition I have had.  I am so grateful for the experience.

A special thanks to gallery director Okamoto-san for giving me the opportunity to share my art, my friend Emiko Nishimura for her help organizing everything and Aki Kasuga all the way in Brooklyn for the introduction.

Thank you.  See you soon.

The reason

A young Japanese student, not more than 19, came by the gallery today.  He was visiting from Kanagawa, outside of Tokyo.  He had come to Kyoto alone for a few days to explore the art and culture of the city.  That morning he had been to a museum and seen some Picasso paintings.  He had read about my exhibition on-line somewhere and wanted to see it before heading back to Kanagawa that evening.  It was the last day of the exhibition and he arrived a couple of hours before closing.

He spoke very good English, despite having never lived or even traveled outside of Japan.  He had some seriously intelligent, probing questions for me, the kind academics or maybe Barbara Walters might ask.  "What are you thinking when you paint these pictures?"  "What does art mean?"  When I realized he wasn't taking the piss, and had a real grasp of the English language I tried to answer.  These are the kinds of questions an artist stumbles around, the kinds of questions that we often ask ourselves.

He listened and was grateful for my time.  Not in an ingratiating way.  I could see it in his eyes; he had a real yearning to understand art even though (or maybe because) he was studying English and computers.  As he told me, he did not have the opportunities to meet or talk with artists.  This was his first such experience.  Later I got an e-mail from him in which he thanked me for "a great memory".

I remember years ago my old friend, the painter Daniel Joseph, responded to the question, "why do you make art?" by saying, I do it for the kids.  At the time I thought it was a bit corny.  But yeah, that's it.  If today's 30 minute conversation with this kid from Kanagawa didn't validate everything I do, if it wasn't a reason to keep making art, well I probably shouldn't be making art.