June 30, 2012

The Tanabata Festival (July 7)

Tanabata is one of Japan's five traditional festivals, the gosekku, celebrated on auspicious calendar days: 1/1, 3/3, 5/5, 7/7 and 9/9. Tanabata's date is 7/7 in the old moon calendar, but as 8/7 is closer to the old date, some Tanabata festivals are held in August rather than July.

As in other cultures, in Japan, too, seven is a lucky figure, so 7/7 makes Tanabata doubly auspicious. Tanabata aptly combines a romantic Chinese folk legend with the native Japanese custom of exorcising contamination.

[Tanabata in Kitano Tenmangu Shrine, Kyoto. Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

Two stars, the Weaver Star (Vega in the constellation Lyra) and the Cowherd Star (Altair in the constellation Aquila), who are lovers, can only meet once a year on the seventh night of the seventh lunar month. The Vega and Altair stars indeed stand wide apart in the clear summer sky with the whole Milky Way (in Japan seen as a river, the River of Heaven) between them.

Vega was imagined to be a girl working at a loom (and therefore associated with traditional skills for women as weaving and sewing) and the constellation Aquila in which Altair stands was seen as a boy leading two cows. Because their love led them to neglect their respective duties (the lone cows wandering forlorn over the Celestial Pasture), by order of the August Gods, the pair was only allowed to meet on seventh day of the seventh month, when magpies would form a bridge with their bodies and wings they could cross.

But only on clear days: in case of rain, the River of Heaven would rise and make passage impossible so that the lovers would have to wait another whole year...

"But (as Lafcadio Hearn remarks in his version of the legend) their love remains immortally young and eternally patient, and they are happy in their hope of being able to meet on the next seventh night of the next seventh month."

[Tanabata in Fukushima]

In Japan the Weaver Star was fused with the legend of the celestial weaving maiden Tanabatatsume, whose task was to make garments for the Heavenly Deities, working beside the Celestial River.

Her name became the Japanese name of the festival, which was already observed at the Heian court.

The cowherd became a deity, who after visiting the weaving maiden, would the next morning take all evil contamination with him. Therefore he also purifies the world below.

So we have a Chinese legend overlaid with a Japanese one, and a lucky date overlaid with a purification festival.

To further complicate matters, Tanabata also became associated with some of the practices involved in welcoming and seeing off the spirits of the ancestors, since it fell close to the time of the Buddhist Bon Festival.

But there is nothing complicated about today's Tanabata. Since the Edo period, this important festival is just a children's pastime, although a fun one.

A week or so before the festival, bamboo branches decorated with long narrow strips of colored paper and other small ornaments are displayed in front of homes, schools, Shinto shrines, and (increasingly) in shops.

The paper strips (tanzaku) are inscribed with wishes, often of a romantic nature. I once attended a wedding party around this time, where all guests wrote a wish for the newly wedded pair on such a strip and attach it to the bamboo twigs.

The cities of Sendai (on August 7) and Hiratsuka (July 7) are especially known for their elaborate Tanabata festivals.

June 25, 2012

Bach Cantatas (35): St John's Day (June 24)

The feast of the birth John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24 - in 2012 this doubles with Trinity III. John the Baptist was a messianic figure, a forerunner of Jesus and most Biblical scholars agree that he baptized Jesus in the River Jordan. The prediction of the coming of John was very much like the message of Advent.

Readings:
Isaiah 40:1–5, "Prepare the Way"
Luke 1:57–80, The birth of John the Baptist and Prophecy of Zacharias

References:
BCWBDECNLSGJNLVHWPText

Cantatas:
  • Ihr Menschen, rühmet Gottes Liebe, BWV 167, 24 June 1723

    Aria (tenor): Ihr Menschen, rühmet Gottes Liebe
    Recitativo (alto): Gelobet sei der Herr Gott Israel
    Aria (soprano, alto): Gottes Wort, das trüget nicht
    Recitativo (bass): Des Weibes Samen kam
    Chorale: Sei Lob und Preis mit Ehren

    ("You people. glorify God's love") Very compact cantata with memorable melodies. The cantata opens with a joyful, dancing aria for tenor and strings. The alto recitative compares the coming of John with the coming of Jesus. Next comes a densely textured duet for alto and soprano "God's word does not deceive," with oboe da caccia. After a bass recitative follows a surprise: a brilliant and joyous chorale “Nun lob, mein Seel, den Herren.” This is the kind of melody to hum along with! (****)


  • Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam, BWV 7, 24 June 1724

    Chorus: "Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam"
    Aria: "Merkt und hört, ihr Menschenkinder"
    Recitative: "Dies hat Gott klar mit Worten"
    Aria: "Des Vaters Stimme ließ sich hören"
    Recitative: "Als Jesus dort nach seinen Leiden"
    Aria: "Menschen, glaubt doch dieser Gnade"
    Chorale: "Das Aug allein das Wasser sieht" 


    ("Christ our Lord came to the Jordan") About the baptism of Jesus in the waters of the River Jordan, and the meaning of baptism in general. Water images permeate every movement of this cantata. In the solemn opening chorus - based on a Luther chorale - which resembles an Italian violin concerto, the tenors sing the cantus firmus. There is a feeling of ebb and flow in this wonderful movement. The bass aria is only accompanied by the continuo. The descending motif suggest the cleansing effect of baptism. A secco recitative leads to a tenor aria, accompanied by two dueting violins. The triple measure symbolizes the Trinity and in the up-flowing music we hear the dove of the Holy Spirit. The following recitative is given to the bass as Vox Christi and accompanied by strings. The alto aria is graced by two oboes d'amore and the strings. It is the liturgical core of the cantata, stressing that believers can only be saved by faith and baptism and that "human deeds and holiness" matter nothing at all. The closing chorale is a beautiful four-part harmonization. (****)


  • Freue dich, erlöste Schar, BWV 30, 24 June 1738

    Coro: "Freue dich, erlöste Schar" for choir, flauti traversi, oboes, strings, and continuo.
    Recitativo: "Wir haben Rast" for bass and continuo.
    Aria: "Gelobet sei Gott, gelobet sein Name" for bass, strings, and continuo.
    Recitativo: "Der Herold kömmt und meldt den König an" for altus and continuo.
    Aria: "Kommt, ihr angefochtnen Sünder" for altus, flauto traverso, strings, and continuo.
    Chorale: "Eine Stimme lässt sich hören" for choir and orchestral tutti colle parti.
    Recitativo: "So bist du denn, mein Heil, bedacht" for bass, oboes and continuo.
    Aria: "Ich will nun hassen" for bass, oboe d'amore, violino solo, strings, and continuo.
    Recitativo: "Und obwohl sonst der Unbestand" for soprano and continuo.
    Aria: "Eilt, ihr Stunden, kommt herbei" for soprano, violins, and continuo.
    Recitativo: "Geduld, der angenehme Tag" for tenor, and continuo.
    Coro: "Freude dich, geheilgte Schar" for choir, orchestral tutti, and continuo.


    ("Rejoice, redeemed throng") Based on a secular cantata (BWV 30a, Angenehmes Wiederau) composed the previous year. Thematically, this cantata is praise of God for keeping His promise. Starts with a joyful opening chorus with syncopated rhythm. A bass recitative leads into a brilliant aria for bass with strings. The highlight of the cantata is the gentle aria for alto with flute and strings, which is permeated with a feeling of grace. A choral setting ends the first part of the cantata. While the first part zoomed in on God's keeping His promise, the second part gives us the reaction of the individual believers ("I now will hate and leave behind everything, which is contrary to You, my God"). The second half starts with a bass recitative and an aria, which surprisingly is in the gallant style (this a late Bach). In contrast, the following soprano aria is in antique gigue style. The arpeggios in the accompaniment illustrate the hurrying of the hours which soon brings the believer to the pasture of Heaven. A repetition of the opening chorus concludes the cantata. (****)
Bach Cantata Index

    June 24, 2012

    Bach Cantatas (34): Trinity III (BWV 21 & 135)

    The church year from Trinity to Advent is simply numbered as Trinity I, Trinity II, etc. This is the third Sunday after Trinity.

    In this second part of the church year, there are no major feasts of the church. Instead, questions of faith and doctrine are explored. This Sunday explores the theme of the tormented sinner who can only be saved by God's grace.

    Readings:
    1 Peter 5:6–11, "Cast thy burden upon the Lord"
    Luke 15:1–10, Parable of the Lost Sheep

    Cantata Studies:
    Bach Cantatas Website | Simon Crouch | Emmanuel Music | Julian Mincham | Wikipedia | Eduard van Hengel (in Dutch) | Bach Companion (Oxford U.P.) | Bach: The Learned Musician (Wolff) | Music in the Castle of Heaven (Gardiner)


    [Schlosskirche Weimar]


    Cantatas:
    • Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis, BWV 21, 17 June 1714, revised 1723

      Sinfonia
      Coro: Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis in meinem Herzen
      Aria (soprano): Seufzer, Tränen, Kummer, Not
      Recitativo (tenor): Wie hast du dich, mein Gott
      Aria (tenor): Bäche von gesalznen Zähren
      Coro: Was betrübst du dich

      Recitativo (Dialogus soprano, bass): Ach Jesu, meine Ruh
      Aria (soprano, bass): Komm, mein Jesu, und erquicke/Ja, ich komme und erquicke
      Coro: Sei nun wieder zufrieden, meine Seele
      Aria (tenor): Erfreue dich, Seele, erfreue dich, Herze
      Coro: Das Lamm, das erwürget ist


      "I had much affliction"
      Text & translation

      Scored for three vocal soloists (soprano, tenor and bass), a four-part choir SATB, three trumpets and timpani only in the final movement, four trombones (only in Movement 9 and only in the 5th version to double voices in the fifth stanza of the chorale), oboe, two violins, viola, and basso continuo, with bassoon and organ) explicitly indicated.

      Originally composed in Weimar, this cantata has a complex history. The most detailed explanation comes from Eduard van Hengel, part of which I'll translate and paraphrase here:

      "The cantata (parts 2 - 6 and 9) probably originates from a funeral service held on October 8, 1713, for the widow of a Weimar dignitary. The surviving memorial sermon discusses various biblical texts incorporated into the cantata, which explains the abundance of biblical quotations compared to other cantatas. It's likely that the lyricist was the Weimar court poet Salomon Franck. Presented as an eleven-part double cantata, before and after the sermon, Bach performed it again in Weimar on June 17, 1714, the third Sunday after Trinity. It also served as a farewell to the eighteen-year-old Prince Johann Ernst IV, who was musically talented and deeply devoted to Bach, before he left Weimar. Sadly, he would die the following year in Frankfurt".

      Bach incorporates a Vivaldi melody, known to be a favorite of the prince, into the first chorus. According to the website of the Netherlands Bach Society, the prince returned from a long trip to the Netherlands in 1713, bringing with him new music, including Vivaldi's L'estro armonico, which had been printed in Amsterdam. These violin concertos and Vivaldi's Italian style were enthusiastically performed and arranged by Bach and Johann Ernst himself.

      We continue with Eduard van Hengel: "Bach later performed the cantata in Hamburg in November 1720 when he applied for the position of organist at the Jacobikirche. This choice is significant not only because of its place among the 25 cantatas Bach composed, but also because it was the first cantata he performed after moving to Calvinist Köthen, where there was no church music. And less than three weeks after Bach's arrival in Leipzig on June 13, 1723, BWV 21 was the first of the cantatas already composed in Weimar that he performed, probably after some revision or expansion, to fulfill his weekly composition obligations. The cantata must have been performed several times in Leipzig".

      As noted above, the text of the cantata has little to do with the Gospel reading for the third Sunday after Trinity (which focuses on the joy over the return of the lost sheep). It does, however, correspond to verse 6 of the Epistle reading (1 Peter 5:6-11): "Cast all your cares on him, for he cares for you." The inherent contrast between worry and trust also structures the cantata: the worrisome parts (1)-(6) are in minor keys, followed by the liberating parts (7)-(11) in major keys.

      Stylistically and structurally, BWV 21 should be considered unbalanced: Bach is clearly at a historical crossroads. The arias and recitatives with free texts (3, 4, 5, 7, 8, and 10) are distinctly modern, while the large number of biblical texts reminiscent of the seventeenth-century motet tradition, the significant role of the chorus, and the structure of part six also reflects an older motet structure. There is also a certain imbalance, such as the presence of two arias for the tenor and none for the alto, and sudden the introduction of trumpets and timpani only at the end. None of these circumstances, however, diminish the cantata’s rigor and persuasive power.

      The opening Sinfonia for violin and oboe features a sighing motif that sets the tone for the composition. The fugal opening chorus is followed by a poignant soprano aria with sighing motifs, followed by the tenor aria "Streams of salty tears," in which the swelling music evokes a flood of tears and a sense of hopeless loneliness. The first part ends, however, with a chorus that introduces a glimmer of hope.

      The uplifting second part begins with a dialogue between the soul and Jesus, incorporating material from the Gospel reading - a common didactic device in Lutheran theology. Marked by a tripartite rhythm and a charming melody reminiscent of Mozart's "La ci darem la mano," this section evolves into a mood of joy and praise through trust in God's grace.

      This transformation is reinforced by a magnificent chorus, "Be at peace again, my soul," in which the soloists intertwine their voices around the main melody. A lively tenor aria follows, leading to the final chorus, now augmented by trumpets and percussion, which exudes a powerful energy reminiscent of passages in Handel's "Messiah".

      Video: J.S. Bach Foundation (St. Gallen) - Workshop (in German) - Contemplation (in German) / Netherlands Bach Society


    • Ach Herr, mich armen Sünder, BWV 135, 25 June 1724

      Coro: Ach Herr, mich armen Sünder
      Recitativo (tenor): Ach heile mich, du Arzt der Seelen
      Aria (tenor): Tröste mir, Jesu, meine Gemüte
      Recitativo (alto): Ich bin von Seufzen müde
      Aria (bass): Weicht, all ihr Übeltäter
      Chorale: Ehr sei ins Himmels Throne


      "Ah Lord, me a poor sinner"
      Text & translation

      Scored for alto, tenor and bass, a four-part choir, cornett (to reinforce the soprano chorale tune in the last movement), trombone (to reinforce the bass chorale tune in the first movement), two oboes, two violins, viola, and basso continuo.

      A chorale cantata based on the chorale "Ach Herr, mich armen Sünder" by Cyriakus Schneegass (1597), a rewriting of the 6th (penitential) psalm. The unknown librettist took the first and last verses of the chorale unchanged and transformed the verses in between into recitatives and arias, sticking as closely as possible to the chorale text and retaining one original verse in each movement. Each of the eight lines of the chorale is first presented instrumentally by two oboes and strings and then taken over by the voice. The reference to Sunday's biblical texts is found in the reading from the Gospel of Luke, the parable of the lost sheep, which concludes with the words: "I tell you, there is joy among the angels of God over a sinner who repents (Luke 15:10) - just as a shepherd rejoices when he finds his lost sheep". The repentance of the sinner is also the theme of the cantata.

      The work begins with an impressive harmonization of Hans Leo Hassler's hymn "Herzlich tut mich verlangen" (1597 - originally a secular love song "My heart is confused, that makes a virgin tender"), the melody sung slowly by the basses to symbolize the "humbling" under the hand of God. This establishes a sense of desolation from the very beginning. The melody of this hymn will be familiar from "O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden" from the St. Matthew Passion. The melody is first heard in violin/viola unison, and to this beautiful foundation are added lines in the middle register - while the bass voices lay a foundation of longer lines below.

      In the first cantata of the cycle, Bach placed the cantus firmus of the chorale melody in the soprano; in this fourth work, after the alto and tenor, it is the bass' turn. Christoph Wolff sees the opening choirs of the first four cantatas of the cycle as a group that consciously performs various forms of chorale fantasy. A French overture (BWV 20), a motet (BWV 2) and an Italian concerto (BWV 7) are followed by a web of vocal and instrumental polyphony, with all parts containing motifs from the chorale melody.

      The first secco recitative by the tenor sketches the state of mind of the penitent sinner. Sin and sickness are interchangeable terms here. Rapid sequences of notes illustrate the “quick floods” of the repentant sinner’s tears. It ends with a line from the chorale that has been retained verbatim, “Oh, you Lord, how long?”

      In the tenor aria, which is accompanied by two oboes, falling sevenths depict the sinking into death. The text “For in death everything is silent” is made clear by long pauses. All the same, this aria is a prayer for comfort which offers some relief from tension.

      The alto recitative begins with a line of the chorale, “I am tired of sighing,” which is presented as a variation of the first line of the chorale melody.

      The second aria is for bass and is a stirring, militaristic affair that would have fit in an opera by Handel. Like a believer who has regained his strength, the angry bass drives away the forces of evil: "Resist the devil that walketh about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour".

      The final chorus is a more conventional harmonization than the opening of the cantata (you'll recognize the melody now if you didn't at first!), with the soprano being reinforced by the brass.

      Video: J.S. Bach-Foundation (St. Gallen) - Workshop (in German) - Contemplation (in German) /
      Netherlands Bach Society

    Bach Cantata Index

    June 22, 2012

    Basho’s Journey: Bleached bones on the Narrow Road (Book Review)

    Basho is by far the most popular Japanese author. Strangely enough, there still is no annotated scholarly translation of his complete work. The Narrow Road has been translated tens of times, and a few hundred of his most popular haiku exist in countless versions (there is even a whole book dedicated to different versions of the famous frog haiku), but too much remains neglected.

    This is not fair: why, for example, a complete Shakepeare translation in Japanese and only popular anthologies of Basho in English? It is all the more strange as Basho's work is not particularly extensive and easily fits into two volumes in Japanese.

    As much as the Narrow Road has received the attention of translators (not always in a positive way, it has been mangled badly by some "translators" who didn't know Japanese), so little attention has been paid to Basho's other prose.

    Along comes David Landis Barnhill's Basho's Journey: The Literary Prose of Matsuo Basho (State University of New York Press, 2005). Still not a complete translation of Basho's prose (no letters, for example), but thanks to the high level of the translation and the sensitivity of the translator to Basho's nuances the best we have now.

    Barnhill has translated Basho’s five travelogues (Journey of Bleached Bones in a Field, Kashima Journal, Knapsack Notebook, Sarashima Journal and Narrow Road to the Deep North) as well as his only literary diary, the Saga Diary. In addition, there is selection of more than 80 haibun, short poetic prose sketches that often contain a haiku.

    In fact, these haibun often relate the circumstances under which a certain haiku was written. Although Basho can sometimes shift the truth a bit for literary effect as he did in the Narrow Road, in principle these pieces are not fiction. One could see the longer travelogues as a series of haibun strung together.

    This all goes back to the East-Asian theory and practice of poetry where the lyrical poem (including the haiku) is seen as a sincere response to a situation in which the poet finds himself. This situation can be social, political, or even just a beautiful landscape, but is always grounded in the biography of the author.

    This is contrary to modern Western poetical theories, of which there is of course a whole variety, but what they have in common is the separation of poem and poet. In one theory, the poem is a conscious artifact that stands on itself.

    Basho’s haibun demonstrate that East-Asian poets themselves (the same tradition exists in China and Korea) saw this differently - and we should take that into consideration when we read their work.

    Another point is that much of Basho’s hokku and haibun had a social function, that is they were written as memorials or farewell gifts – in other words, they functioned as occasional poetry.

    Haruo Shirane in Traces of Dreams: Landscape, Cultural Memory, and the Poetry of Basho has admirably called our attention to the fact that this is also the case for the hokku, which as opening of a renga session, often were meant to praise the host of the occasion, or the genus loci of the place.

    So far my own ruminations, now back to the book.

    Barnhill offers the most comprehensive collection of Basho's prose available and the texts have been beautifully translated into English. Therefore they supplant older translations, such as the renderings by Nobuyuki Yuasa in Penguin Books.

    There is only one exception: in the case of the Narrow Road I still prefer Hiroaki Sato's Basho's Narrow Road, with its full apparatus of notes.

    In the introduction, Barnhill has an interesting discussion of Basho's nature view and the influence of his haibun on American contemporary nature writing and environmental thought.

    To conclude, we are grateful that Barnhill has made these important pieces available in excellent and accessible translations, but that scholarly translation of the Complete Works of Basho still remains a dream...

    June 20, 2012

    Basho Museum, Iga-Ueno (Museums)

    The Basho Memorial Museum in Iga-Ueno was built in 1959 as a tribute to the haiku master by the town where he was born in 1644 and where he returned several times in later life, both for family visits and to have haikai sessions with local poets. For the haiku enthusiast, it is a small, but fine museum.


    [Basho Museum, Iga-Ueno]

    In the exhibition room are displays of haiku and haiga, the first in beautiful calligraphies by Basho himself or later followers. Copies of early editions of Basho's printed works are also on display. If one does not read Japanese, only the haiga may be of interest. In fact, to fully enjoy this museum, one must be able to read the haiku, even if only in the modern transcriptions provided on the labels. The museum provides an excellent bilingual pamphlet introducing the many other sites associated with Basho in this atmospheric old town.
    Address: 117-13 Maru-no-uchi Ueno-shi, Mie pref. Tel. 0595-21-2219
    Admission: 10:00-17:00; Cl. Monday, year-end and New Year period.
    Access: 5 min. walk from Iga-Ueno-shi Station on the Kintetsu Line, or the bus center in the Sangyo Kaikan.

    June 19, 2012

    Mukai Junkichi: Painter of Minka

    Traditional Japanese houses, or minka, are something I am very fond of. My dream is to live in one in the future! For now, I have to do with open-air museums, and that is not so bad, as there are beautiful traditional houses in parks like the Japan Open-Air Folk-house Museum in Kawasaki, the Shikoku Minka Museum or the Hida Folk Village in Takayama.

    [Japan Open-Air Folk-house Museum. Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    Another option for minka lovers who have to still there longing somehow is to look at minka paintings. Here oil painter Mukai Junkichi (1901-1995) comes in. His work is shown in his former studio, which is now an Annex of the Setagaya Museum of Art. The only subject Mukai was interested in during the major part of his career were the traditional thatched-roof farmhouses of Japan.

    Before the war, Mukai Junkichi had experimented with a variety of styles and also made a visit to Europe where he copied famous paintings in the Louvre. But he came into his own when after the war he realized that Japan’s folk-houses were a fast disappearing breed, as a result of economic development. Mukai felt sad at the loss of these beautiful structures, and traveled to all parts of the country to catch them on his canvasses.

    He painted them standing lonely in the fields, with a background of magnificent snowy mountains, or huddled together in a small hamlet. The changing seasons figure prominently in all his works. Above all, Mukai depicted his thatched-roof houses with realism and vividness. In an age of abstract painting and experimentation, Mukai’s style is very traditional. What makes his paintings interesting are the folk-houses dominating them. They are in fact like living persons, all with their own character.


    Since 1933 Mukai Junkichi lived in the area of Tsurumaki in the Setagaya ward, which until about 30 years ago managed to keep its rural character. Mukai’s own traditional house stood on an elevation among the fields.

    When you come now, you will find a residential area where the houses have been squashed so closely together that even a blade of grass will not fit between them. The small garden of the Mukai residence with its oak and zelkova is the only spot of nature in the wide surroundings.

    [Hida Folk Village. Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    Unfortunately, the original house was destroyed by fire in 1961 (taking with it many drawings, documents, photos and the like) and the house with studio you find now was put up again in 1962. Inside, however, it succeeds in keeping a pleasant folk-art atmosphere. The house was already turned into a museum in 1993, when Mukai was still alive.

    The small museum organizes about four exhibitions a year, showing of course the folk house paintings, but also drawings, sketches and photos. You will also find the easels on which Mukai worked, including the small one he carried with him on his travels, now with the paint dried up.

    The museum forms an elegant and engaging environment, an temporary escape from the city just as the paintings themselves. Today you will find the real folk-houses only in museums or specially preserved areas, but their spirit lives on in the paintings of Mukai Junkichi.
    Tel. 03-5450-9581
    Hrs: 10:00-18:00; CL Mon (next day if NH), NY.
    Access: 10-min. on foot from W exit of Komazawa Daigaku Station on the Tokyu Denentoshi Line (the route is clearly indicated, also in English); 18-min. walk from Shoin Jinja Station on the Tokyu Setagaya Line; bus 5 from Shibuya Station (bound for Tsurumaki Eigyosho) to Komazawa Chugakko bus stop, then 5-min. on foot. Here is a map.

    Hyogo Prefectural Museum of History (Museums)

    Hyogo’s history museum stands fittingly in Himeji, on a plot of land behind the soaring walls of the castle and close to the Museum of Modern Art. It was designed by Tange Kenzo. On the first floor are two large rooms for the permanent exhibition. The first one is dedicated to the “Primitive Ages” (some interesting items are the bronze mirrors found in the Akura-Takatsu burial mound dating from the 3rd c.), the second one to the “Ancient Ages”, the “Medieval Ages” (about the spread of Buddhism and with models of important temples in Hyogo) and the “Early Modern Ages.” On the second floor is also a gallery dedicated to the “The Modern Age.” Here is also a large room for temporary exhibitions.


    [Himeji Castle]

    Galleries Four and Five are again for the permanent exhibition and these are perhaps the most interesting part of the museum, as they have displays about Himeji Castle and other castles in Japan. Himeji is one of the only twelve castle keeps (or donjons) that survive in their original state. Others are, for example, Inuyama (built in 1537), Matsumoto (1596), Hikone (1606), Matsue (1611) and Kochi (1745). Himeji castle itself dates from 1609. There is also a model of the now destroyed Edo Castle, which used to be the largest in the country. Most castles were destroyed in a wave of anti-feudal feelings after the start of the Meiji period, and the resulting open spaces were often used for building the new prefectural offices. After seeing all the models, from one of the northern windows of the museum you can get a view of Himeji Castle, majestically rising up like a white heron taking off in flight.
    0792-88-9011
    68 Honmachi, Himeji-shi, Hyogo-ken 670-0012
    10:00 - 17:00; CL Mon (next day if NH), NY
    5 min by Shinki bus (no. 3, 4, 5 or 64) from N side of Himeji St to Bijutsukan-mae bus stop, then walk a few min; or 20 min on foot from Himeji St

    Kokoen Garden, Himeji (Gardens)

    Kokoen, 'The Garden of Love for Antiquity' is not very antique itself as it was only built in 1992. It is, however, a pleasant group of gardens (in fact there are nine), laid out on the spot where once the Nishi-Oyashiki (the West Mansion) of Himeji Castle stood. The gardens are enclosed in white washed walls and one enters each one via a gate, whereby the fiction of visiting an old mansion is created.



    The largest and most interesting among the nine gardens is the first one, the Oyashiki no Niwa or Garden of the Lord's House. This is a 9,200 sq. m. large pond garden with a natural spring, located against the background of the trees growing on Himeyama, the hill on which Himeji castle stands. In the southern part of the carp filled pond is a large waterfall and the rushing sound of water (also heard when one enters over a long roofed corridor) is one of the major pleasures of this garden. A restaurant and guest house in traditional style, sitting at the edge of the pond, recreate the fiction of the lord's mansion. There are crooked pine trees, bright red azaleas and a stone bridge, this all against the distant view of the castle.

    The Nae no Niwa (Garden of Seedlings) is less interesting, having as the name indicates seedlings in wooden plant beds. Cha no Niwa, a small tea garden with tea house, does not create a spark either, also because the tea house is hermetically closed and can not even be approached. Better again are the Nagare no Niwa, a flat landscape garden intended to recall the countryside; the Natsuki no Niwa or Garden of Summer Trees; the Matsu no Niwa or Garden of Pine Trees (that also contains many large rocks) and the Hana no Niwa, the Garden of Flowers.



    These are again surpassed by the traditional Tsukiyama Chisen no Niwa or Garden with Hill and Pond (also fitted out with arched bridge and tortoise shaped rock) and the Take no Niwa, a garden containing fifteen varieties of bamboo.

    These gardens lie right in the middle of Himeji, but only occasionally, near the outer edges, can the traffic be heard or other buildings be seen. The idea of having differently colored, tiled mud walls enclosing the gardens makes wandering around something of an adventure, as you do not know what will be behind the next wall.

    Address: (Himeji Castle Nishi-Oyashiki-ato Garden) Tel. 0792-89-4120 Access: 15-min. walk from Himeji Station; 5-min. walk from Himeji Castle. Admission: 8:00-17:00 (July-August: till 18:00).

    Basho Museum, Tokyo

    In 1680, the haiku poet Basho moved from Nihonbashi - right in the bustling center of Edo - to a small country house in Fukagawa. Here he started new haikai activities. Away from the city with its endless rounds of linked verse (renga) sessions where he acted as referee (which brought a reasonable income), now he was free to concentrate on his art and bring it to new heights. Most famous haiku date from this period.

    The same holds true for the poetical name that finally stuck with him: he named himself Basho after the plantain (some call it a banana plant) that disciples had planted in the garden of the cottage. The Koto City Basho Museum was built on what is believed to have been a place very close to Basho's hut.


    [Basho Museum, Tokyo]

    The original hut did not survive (in fact, there were three different 'Basho huts,' because fire once took its toll and another time Basho himself moved out on the faraway journey to northern Japan); the area was included in a samurai estate. When in 1917, after a tsunami hit a stone frog was found here that people believed to have been in Basho's possession (I do not know why, except the fact that he wrote a famous frog haiku! The frog stone can be seen in the museum), it was decided that this must have been the location of Basho's hut. Now a small Inari shrine occupies the spot just south of the museum. Opposite the shrine is a small rooftop park with a statue of Basho.


    [Rooftop display near Basho Museum, Tokyo]

    The museum's exhibits include calligraphies of Basho's haiku (amongst others by Buson); portraits of the poet; and an example of the clothes he may have worn when traveling, as well as an ingenious small writing brush with ink pot for use on the road. In the garden stand a few haiku stones as well as a miniature copy of Basho's hut. To remain wholly in style, the museum also has plantains growing against its walls.
    Address: 1-6-3 Tokiwa, Koto-ku, Tokyo Tel. 03-3631-1448
    Access: 7 min. from Morishita Station on the Shinjuku Subway line; 25 min. from Monzen-nakamachi on the Tozai Subway line; 20 min. from Ryogoku Station on the JR Sobu line.
    Admission: 10:00-17:00; Cl. Monday, year-end and New Year period.
    Facilities: Counter selling pamphlets (all J); meeting rooms and library; garden; separate roof garden with Basho statue.

    June 18, 2012

    Irises in the rain (Horikiri Park, Tokyo)

    One year in June I wanted to see irises in bloom - Japan's famous shobu, sung about in poetry and depicted in paintings and ukiyo-e. I opted for Horikiri Shobuen in the northern part of Tokyo, in what proved to be an eyesore neighborhood, but when I finally reached the garden, I felt happy seeing irises in the rain...

    [Horikiri Park, Tokyo]

    My first acquaintance with the Horikiri Iris Garden was via the famous blockprint by Hiroshige, in his Hundred Views of Edo, where one large iris, seen from a low perspective, rises up against a wide sky and distant river. I knew reality would be different, but had not foreseen how much.

    It was my own fault: on a rainy day in late June, I went by way of Horikiri Station on the Tobu Line, which means you have to walk over a bleak dike, cross the Arakawa River over an interminably long bridge, walk again over an even bleaker dike, and then find your way through the small town of Horikiri.

    It was pouring and on the open bridge the wind teased my umbrella. It was pretty useless, anyway. On the opposite side of the river was a huge highway structure, several roads one above the other, rearing its ugly head on high concrete pillars. The distant thunder of rows upon rows of heavy trucks grumbled through the rain.

    After the river I passed a canal with murky water, in which the highway pillars rested. A bunch of flowers was attached to a post, usually a sign someone has died in a traffic accident. I surmised somebody had jumped into the murky canal as a way out of all misery. It were that kind of surroundings.

    The garden, when I finally found it, was a total contrast. It was beautiful. Of course one had to keep the gaze low to avert the surrounding high-rises and the above mentioned highway (standing between garden and river, in what in Hiroshige's print had been an open landscape). But with that small concession, one could enjoy the pleasures of the small garden. Now I was happy with the rain, especially when it changed into a light drizzle. The light drops stuck to the leaves and flowers and dropped into the pools in which the irises stood, adding to an atmosphere of watery softness.

    Irises were cultivated in this area at least since the 17th century and local cultivators strove the improve the flowers. Horikiri has a valuable name in irises. They are still cultivated one by one, by people who make it their vocation. Therefore all flowers have names, written on small boards put next to them. I saw hundreds and hundreds of names, all of a poetical bent, borrowed from literature or history. All these irises were works of love and that showed. I forgot the hideous highway structure and generally ugly surroundings, and just enjoyed the soft and poetical beauty of Horikiri's irises.

    There is even a haiku stone in the garden, with a poem by Matsuno Jitoku (1890-1975), a pupil of Takahama Kiyoshi, who seems to have been something of an "iris poet:"
    in sunshine
    the whiteness of irises
    bedazzles me

    tenjitsu ni | shobu no hana no | shiro mabushi

    Dazzling whiteness, sunshine... that is at least a problem I do not have with my irises in the rain.
    Address: 2-19-1 Horikiri, Katsushika-ku, Tokyo. Tel. 03-3697-5237
    Access: A 10-min. walk from Horikiri Shobuen Station on the Keisei Line.
    Hours: 9:00-16:30 (in June: 8:00-18:00). Cl. Monday, Tuesday, 4th Sunday of the month, Year-end and New Year period. NOTE: Open every day during June (iris season).


    June 17, 2012

    Incline and Lake Biwa Canal Museum, Kyoto

    Kyoto is often seen as purely a historical city for tourists. Indeed, when you sit in a quiet Zen garden you tend to forget that it is also a hothouse of advanced research and industry.

    That was already so in the past. In the last 30 years of the 19th century, after the capital was transferred to Tokyo, the city was indeed in danger of becoming an oddity for tourists. But despite the loss of economic power and status, Kyoto's citizens fought back and realized a stunning number of modern "firsts." Kyoto became the first city to found a system of modern elementary schools, already in 1869, at the initiative of its citizens (the bangumi schools). In 1891, it realized the first hydroelectric power generation project (remember, the 90s of the 19th c. were still an age of gas lights and candles!) and in 1895 the first electric streetcar of Japan started to run in Kyoto. The first Japanese Nobel Prize was won in 1949 by Yugara Hideki, a physicist of Kyoto University.


    [The Biwa Lake Canal coming out of the last tunnel at Keage - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    The hydroelectric power project mentioned above is linked to the construction of a canal between Kyoto and Lake Biwa, seven kilometres to the east, to provide waterpower to modernise the city's textile industry, supply drinking water, provide water for fire fighting and irrigation, and, finally, make transport between Lake Biwa and Kyoto easier (mainly for the transport of rice from Shiga and Fukui Prefectures to Kyoto).

    Such a canal had already been the dream of leaders as Hideyoshi, but it would take modern technology to realize it in the Meiji-period, on the strong promotion by the then Governor of Kyoto Prefecture, Kitagaki Kunimichi. The canal starts from Lake Biwa and runs through Yamashina and Keage before reaching the eastern part of Kyoto. The most difficult part of the construction was building three tunnels through the mountains - the longest measures 2.4 kilometres. Engineer of this difficult project was the Tanabe Sakuro, a "young genius" who had just graduated in 1883. Starting in 1885, it took five years to complete the whole canal. A second, almost parallel canal purely for drinking water was added in 1912.


    [The boat cradle at the place where the boats were loaded unto it - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    One problem was how to bring the flat-bottomed wooden canal boats down the sharp drop of 36 meters at the pass of Keage (near the Westin Miyako Hotel), leading from central Kyoto to the suburb of Yamashina. Finally, an inclined slope with rails was laid out here, over which flat railroad cars moved onto which the boats were hoisted out of the water (and in it again at the other end). These "boat cradles" moved down the slope of half a kilometre in about 15 minutes - one up and one down at the same time, connected by a steel cable.


    [The Incline at Keage - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    Interestingly, these railway carts were moved by electric power - the other innovation introduced by Tanabe Sakuro was building a hydroelectric plant at Keage which could use the same steep drop of 36 metres to direct the canal water through steel pipes and have it drive the wheels of two turbines. Tanabe Sakuro traveled expressly to the United States to see the first hydroelectric power plant built there, in Aspen, Colorado. Later, the electricity generated by the Keage plant was used for Kyoto's first streetcars as well as for streetlamps.


    [The "boat cradle" on the Incline at Keage - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    It is - by the way - surprising that there was still the need for such a canal for shipping, considering the fact that the first railway line between Kyoto and Otsu had already been opened in 1880!

    I do not know when shipping through the canal stopped, but the incline is still there with a boat cradle and model of a flat bottomed boat - and what is more, the canal still brings drinking water to Kyoto and the power plant is also still in operation. It has been joined at Keage by a water purification plant.

    The Lake Biwa Canal Museum of Kyoto is a free facility set up to commemorate the canal, the Incline and hydroelectric power plant. You will find ample photo's and materials here on the large project, as well as a power generator.


    [Statue of Tanabe Sakuro at Keage - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

    From the courtyard of the museum there is a good view of the Incline, which is now a popular cherry blossom viewing spot (as are parts along the canal in Yamashina). When you follow the incline east from the museum, you come to a small park graced by a statue of Tanabe Sakuro and a memorial to workers who lost there lives when building the canal.

    A branch of the canal goes east and north for irrigation purposes and passes through the grounds of Nanzenji temple via a redbrick aqueduct - a modern piece of architecture that blends remarkably well into the temple grounds and is now a popular landmark.


    [The aqueduct in the grounds of Nanzenji - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]
    Museum Tel: 075-752-2530
    Museum Hrs: 9:00-17:00 (Dec-Feb: 16:30); CL Mon (next day if NH), NY
    Free
    Access (both to museum and incline): 5 min walk from Keage St on the Tozai subway line
    Materials: There are several interesting articles on the Lake Biwa Canal project on the web:

    Shinto cat (Photo Moment)

    The greying of Japan is also hitting temples and shrines. Where aged priests (or their wives) used to sit and chat with neighborhood visitors, now an empty window radically demonstrates the dramatic fall in the birthrate and resulting gap in the population.


    This shrine in Kyoto has found a solution to the lack of humans and enlisted the services of one of its many cats to sell amulets, a duty taken very seriously as you see...

    Bach Cantatas (33): Trinity II (BWV 76 & 2)

    The church year from Trinity to Advent is simply numbered as Trinity I, Trinity II, and so on. This is the second Sunday after Trinity.

    There are no major church festivals in this second part of the church year. Instead, questions of faith and doctrine are explored.

    This Sunday continues the previous Sunday's injunction to give charity to the hungry (BWV 75) by demonstrating brotherly love in action (BWV 76).

    Readings:
    1 John 3:13–18, "Whoever doesn't love, remains in Death" (of brotherly love)
    Luke 14:16–24, Parable of the great supper

    Cantata Studies:
    Bach Cantatas Website | Simon Crouch | Emmanuel Music | Julian Mincham | Wikipedia | Eduard van Hengel (in Dutch) | Bach Companion (Oxford U.P.) | Bach: The Learned Musician (Wolff) | Music in the Castle of Heaven (Gardiner)

    [The Invitation to the Great Banquet, Jan Luyken]


    Cantatas:
    • Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes, BWV 76, 6 June 1723

      Part I
      1. Coro: Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes
      2. Recitativo (tenor): So lässt sich Gott nicht unbezeuget!
      3. Aria (soprano): Hört, ihr Völker, Gottes Stimme
      4. Recitativo (bass): Wer aber hört, da sich der größte Haufen
      5. Aria (bass): Fahr hin, abgöttische Zunft!
      6. Recitativo (alto): Du hast uns, Herr, von allen Straßen
      7. Chorale: Es woll uns Gott genädig sein

      Part II
      8. Sinfonia
      9. Recitativo (bass): Gott segne noch die treue Schar
      10. Aria (tenor): Hasse nur, hasse mich recht
      11. Recitativo (alto): Ich fühle schon im Geist
      12. Aria (alto): Liebt, ihr Christen, in der Tat!
      13. Recitativo (tenor): So soll die Christenheit
      14. Chorale: Es danke, Gott, und lobe dich


      "The Heavens declare the Glory of God"
      Text & translation

      Scored for soprano, alto, tenor and bass, a four-part choir SATB, trumpet, two oboes, oboe d'amore, two violins, viola, viola da gamba and basso continuo.

      A long piece in two symmetrical parts, the second cantata Bach wrote in Leipzig was obviously intended to impress the congregation and his employers. The cantata opens with a brilliant fugal chorus based on the words of Psalm 19: "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his handiwork".

      In movements 2 (recitative) and 3 (a sweet aria for soprano), the text develops the idea of the universe praising God's creation. The soprano aria is a graceful movement in gavotte rhythm toward God's throne.

      The following two movements, a recitative and a bass aria, lament those who did not respond to God's invitation, so that He had to invite people "from the streets". It is a direct call to banish the tribe of idolaters. Part I concludes with a haunting version of Martin Luther's chorale, "Es woll uns Gott genädig sein," accompanied by a mournful trumpet.

      Part II begins with an intimate sinfonia based on one of the trio sonatas for organ (BWV 528). The tenor aria illustrates the "masochistic" "Hate me, then, hate me with all your might, o hostile race!" with chromatic leaps and intermittent rests.

      The heavenly alto aria with oboe d'amore and viola da gamba is the musical climax of the cantata. It reminds us of the unifying love that is a consequence of Christ's death and brings a sense of peace and introspection. The third verse of Luther's chorale concludes the work.

      Video: Opening Chorus by Academy Baroque Soloists
      Audio: Ton Koopman



    • Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh darein, BWV 2, 18 June 1724

      Coro: Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh darein
      Recitativo (tenor, continuo): Sie lehren eitel falsche List
      Aria (alto, violin solo): Tilg, o Gott, die Lehren
      Recitativo (bass, strings): Die Armen sind verstört
      Aria (tenor): Durchs Feuer wird das Silber rein
      Chorale: Das wollst du, Gott, bewahren rein


      "O God, look down from Heaven"
      Text & translation

      Scored for three vocal soloists (alto, tenor and bass), a four-part choir, four trombones, two oboes, two violins, viola, and basso continuo.

      Cantata based on Martin Luther's chorale "Ach got vom hymel syhe dareyn," a hymn that deserves its place alongside "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" as one of the most influential hymns of the Reformation. The website of the Netherlands Bach Society (about the organ chorale BWV 741, based on the same hymn) says: “'Oh Lord, have mercy. Your word is doubted everywhere and we, the faithful, are so few!' This is the despondent message of one of the earliest hymns written in German by Luther, in 1524, and adapted from Psalm 12. He took the melody from a love song from the early fifteenth century, Begierlich in dem Herzen mein, which is equally dispirited in mood. A lover yearns silently for his loved one, who has no idea of his suffering. Although the lover does want his loved one to know, a solution to his dilemma does not present itself. The sad key of this song, the long disused Phrygian mode, was ideally suited to Luther’s text."

      When the old Bach Society published the cantata "Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh darein" as BWV 2 in 1851, they knew that this cantata was intended for a second Sunday after Trinity, but they could not yet know that Bach had composed this cantata in 1724, as the second cantata of his second cantata cycle!

      As Eduard van Hengel mentions on his interesting (Dutch-language) Bach-cantatas website: "Bach himself, convinced of the weight of his extensive project, marked its start (= the start of his second, chorale cantata cycle) with several grand gestures, the meaning of which one wonders whether his audience had reached. He uses the first four chorale cantatas to establish stylistic stakes: he successively designs the chorale fantasies with which they begin as a solemn French Overture (first Sunday after Trinity, BWV 20), an old-fashioned motet (second, BWV 2), a concerto in Italian style (third, BWV 7) and a more common chorale fantasy (fourth, BWV 135); in these first four chorale cantatas he assigns the cantus firmus successively to the soprano, alto, tenor and bass. Bach asked his librettist - about whose identity we still have to speculate - to maintain the first and last verse of the chorales used unchanged for an opening choir and a closing chorale, and to paraphrase the 'inner verses' into recitative and aria texts. The lyricist draws the attention of churchgoers to the fact that these 'free' texts are also based on the chorales known to them by regularly quoting several lines from them literally."

      The theme of the text is how false doctrine and evildoers are confronted
      and subjugated by the truth, power, and authority of the word of God. With its lament about man's turning away from God, the cantata was well suited to the Gospel reading, the parable of the Last Supper.

      The cantata is scored for unusual forces: ATB, four-part choir, four trombones, two oboes, strings, and continuo. There are six movements. In the choruses of the first and last movements (which use the original words of the hymn, already 200 years old in Bach's time), the style of the music is deliberately archaic, like an old-fashioned chorale motet, with the trombones doubling the voices - flaunting their traditionally authoritative status. Bach often used such archaic music when he was dealing with a serious subject - and for Bach, nothing was more serious than Luther. There is an austere beauty to the first chorus, which takes the form of a dense chorale motet a la Pachelbel; the altos, doubled by the oboes, sing the chorale melody in long notes as a cantus firmus.

      The text of the tenor recitative laments the teaching of false doctrine, rails against the idolatrous gang, and decries man's futile attempts to base his salvation on his own puny efforts: "They are like the tombs of the dead, which, though outwardly beautiful, contain only decay and stench, and show nothing but filth".

      The alto aria, too, is a condemnation of heresy ("Destroy, O God, the doctrines that pervert Thy Word"), but it is surprisingly benign given the text, perhaps reflecting Bach's generally optimistic outlook (it is the only movement in the major mode in this cantata). With its contemporary concertante style and violin obbligato playing lively figurations, the alto aria also stands in jarring contrast to what has gone before.

      After an accompanied bass recitative that ends in an arioso (in which God responds to the cries of the sinners), there follows a powerful da capo aria for tenor that stresses the need for patience in suffering ("Through fire, silver is purified") - a calm and serene acceptance of circumstances, with fire as a poetic image of purification - signifying the re-conversion of the Christian purified by the cross. Gardiner notes that the instrumental music suggests "fluid movement or the flow of molten metal," recalling Bach's interest in coins and precious metals.

      The final chorale has a dissonant harmonization to represent the separation of heresies from God's truth in tonal terms. As Julian Mincham concludes: "These heresies surround us, but God still looks upon us with pity and has the power to heal us."

      As mentioned above, the anonymous melody of the hymn was also used by Bach for his organ prelude BWV 741 - a disturbing composition by a very young Bach with a wealth of sounds from the deepest regions of the organ (listen also to the interview with organist Leo van Doeselaar).

      By the way, the original hymn melody was used by many composers, such as Schütz, Pachelbel, Sweelinck, Wilhelm Friedemann Bach, Mendelssohn and even Mozart (in his Zauberflöte!) in a variety of compositions.

      Video: J.S. Bach-Foundation (St. Gallen) - Workshop (in German) - Contemplation (in German)


    Bach Cantata Index

      June 16, 2012

      Concrete rocks - Review of Tschumi's "Mirei Shigemori"

      The modern garden of the Tofukuji Hojo, with its characteristic checkerboard pattern of tiles in deep green moss, has always been one of my favorites and I am not alone in this, as it graces countless books about the Japanese garden. I knew that it had been designed by Shigemori Mirei, but I did not know anything else about the designer, who is also not mentioned in the Kodansha Encyclopedia of Japan.

      That gap in my knowledge has now been filled y a beautiful book, Mirei Shigemori, Modernizing the Japanese Garden by Christian Tschumi. Photography is by Markuz Wernli Saito and the book has been beautifully edited. Mr Tschumi is a landscape architect who studied in Japan and wrote his dissertation about Shigemori Mirei, so we could not have a better guide to this subject.


      [Checkerboard pattern in Hojo Garden of Tofukuji - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

      Shigemori Mirei (1896-1975) was a scholar of Japanese traditional culture, trained in Japanese-style painting (nihonga), flower arranging and the tea ceremony. He became a garden designer after having studied all the traditional gardens of Japan, about which he wrote a massive series of books - he was the first to do so in the years before the war.

      Shigemori believed that in the Edo-period garden design had become mired in cliches, a mere copying of famous gardens of the past. In order for an art form to be alive, it has to be vibrantly contemporary, which meant that the "Zen garden" had to go avant-garde. Starting with the gardens of the Tofukuji Hojo in 1939, Shigemori Mirei became a garden designer - the war intervened, but in the last thirty years of his life he created an almost annually increasing number of gardens.

      Shigemori's massive rocks are standing boldly upright, he introduced new materials as colored sand and concrete and made use of modern shapes as wave forms. But there is always a philosophy behind his gardens. Sometimes this even harks back to old Japanese notions of stone groupings as iwakura, places where the kami, the deities, would take their abode when visiting this world. Shigemori's gardens have been compared to the "earth sculptures" by Isamu Noguchi, an artist he knew and with whom he cooperated on the Unesco project in Paris.

      All gardens have their own fundamental idea: in the garden of Kishiwada-jo Castle (1953) Shigemori built a military encampment as found in Chinese classics; Zuihoin (1961), a subtemple of Daitokuji that was the family temple of the Christian daimyo Otomo Sorin, features a hidden Christian cross in the form of a stone setting; in Sumiyoshi Jinja (1966), a Shinto shrine dedicated to a sea god, he created undulating wave forms of concrete; in Yurin no Niwa (1969), built for an association of kimono manufacturers, he used a noshi, a symbol of good luck that often was woven into kimono, as the central design element. And in the "Prehistoric Garden" of Matsuo Taisha (1975) he used a stone setting alluding to the iwakura that was the origin of this particular shrine.


      [Impressive stone setting in Tofukuji - Photo © Ad Blankestijn]

      Christian Tschumi's book discusses 10 gardens in detail, and also includes visiting information. It is perfect for a start - and if you want more you can of course turn to his dissertation! There is also an other option I found today when visiting Matsuo Taisha with Tschumi's book in hand - the shrine office was selling another recently published book, bilingual, called Shigemori Mirei, Creator of Spiritual Spaces, the first volume in a series of "Great Masters of the Gardens of Kyoto." It is significant that this series starst with Shigemori Mirei, also in Japan a reevaluation is underway.

      Finally this garden master who devised gardens as if making paintings, and insisted on creativity and originality (quite revolutionary in Japan, where it is still the case in traditional crafts that the pupil copies his teacher), is getting the appreciation he deserves. The book just mentioned, introduces several of Shigemori's Kyoto gardens and also includes a list of all his creations.
      Mirei Shigemori, Modernizing the Japanese Garden by Christian Tschumi; photography by Markuz Wernli Saito. Stone Bridge Press, 2005.

      Shigemori Mirei, Creator of Spiritual Spaces, Photographs by Mizobuchi Hiroshi. Kyoto Tsushinsha Press, 2007.

      June 12, 2012

      Don Quixote

      The Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (first published in 1605; part two in 1615) has undergone the sad fate of so many classical novels: everyone has heard about the book and more or less knows what it is about (it has after all given us expressions like "tilting at windmills" and "Quixotic"), so nobody reads it. On top of that, those who have read it did so when children, which means they only know this great book in a shortened, infantilized and badly translated version.

      Especially in the case of Don Quixote that is a shame. This is a first-rate masterwork and the first truly modern, psychological novel. Moreover, it is a story about a protagonist in the progress of losing his illusions and what is the history of modern literature other than a history of coping with "lost illusions?"

      Here are some crucial points why this is such a great book:
      • The Quixote is the classical reflexive parody: the adventures of a mad geriatric "hidalgo," a lover of chivalric literature, who sets forth to realize the purely literary ideal of the "wandering knight." Parody is everywhere, for part 2 of the novel parodies part 1 - here Don Quixote has become a famous man thanks to the publication of the first part of the novel about him! In Part 2, Cervantes also incorporates and reacts to criticism made of Part 1, and deals in a comical way with an apocryphal second part published by a rival author.
      • Don Quixote is very similar to today's otaku and fans of anime and manga, who like our mad hero are "passionate obsessives" engaging in "cosplay" or costumed role play - this is exactly what Don Quixote does when he dresses up like a knight without being one (he is just a member of the petty gentry), and rides around the countryside on his old nag, in full armor and with lance in hand. The only difference is that Don Quixote is not inspired by Sailor Moon, but by Amadis de Gaula and the Arthurian legends of the Round Table.
      • Obsession is something of all times, and can lead to real problems, as when Don Quixote in his delusion attacks others and commits crimes. He is punished by reality with such severe, repeated beatings that Nabokov characterized the novel as "an encyclopedia of cruelty."
      • On the other hand, we all to a certain degree need illusions - we can not live without dreams, just as Don Quixote dies when his illusions are broken. 
      • The Quixote is the start of the "self-conscious" genre in fiction, which continues with Fielding and Sterne in England and Diderot in France, and sees its greatest flourishing in the twentieth century with such authors as Queneau, Borges, Nabokov, Calvino, Pyncheon and Fowles. [The "self-conscious" genre is the opposite of the "illusion of reality" genre, where the author steps back and pretends that the story is a faithful imitation of reality.] 
      • In this genre, writers systematically show-off their artifice and reflexively engage their own procedures and techniques. It is an anti-illusionist art that makes us aware of the author and that finds its sources in the tradition itself. The artist does not imitate nature but other texts. Parody is therefore - as indicated above - an important device. In our novel, the most interesting moment in this respect comes at the end of Chapter Eight, when Cervantes suddenly claims to have run out of text just at the moment that Don Quixote is engaged in a fierce sword battle, leaving him frozen in time with his sword in the air (in Chapter Nine he "finds" the continuation of the story).
      • Cervantes was one of the first professional authors who tried to make a living from their writings. This meant a decrease in social class of authors but it was accompanied by a rise in invention and importance of the author (the higher classes only slavishly imitated older literature). By the way, Cervantes was a contemporary of Shakespeare - both died on almost the same day in 1616.
      • The world of The Quixote was a complex, multi-cultural world. Cervantes gives a realistic description of the Spain of around 1600: a well-ordered, modern state with a strong police force (as Don Quixote will notice) projecting its power to its colonies in South America but with a ruling house that was gradually weakening. As it was only a century after 1492, when the last Muslim state on Iberian soil had been conquered, there was also still a certain Muslim influence felt; and Spain also clashed with the "Moors" in the Mediterranean and North-Africa - Cervantes himself was captured by Algerian corsairs and spent five years in their captivity. In the novel, the story of Don Quixote is ironically attributed to an Arabic source. 
      • Finally, interesting is the multi-perspectivism in the novel: the writer speaks the truth but also engages multiple perspectives and opinions about that truth. In the novel, there even seem to be multiple perspectives within each individual, making them conflictive beings.
      Don Quixote was already translated into English in 1612 and became an international bestseller. There are more than 12 English translations. Which is the best one? When you read the novel on the internet, you have no choice for the only edition available is the one by John Ormsby from 1885. This is an honest translation, with no things left out or added, and it has become the basis for various 20th century reworkings. It is, however rather stiff, and all those "thous" and "dosts" get rather boring. (The same is true for the Jervas translation that went before it, in 1742, and which forms the basis for the Oxford Classics edition). Moreover, these "Puritan" translations don't manage to bring out the fun of the original. That problem has finally been addressed in our century, with translations in truly modern English by John Rutherford (in Penguin Classics) and Edit Grossman (Ecco/Harper Collins). I started with the Ormsby version (also because the Librivox audio recordings are based on that version), but soon switched to the Penguin Classic translation by Rutherford, which I found very stimulating.

      Jizo among hydrangea's - Yatadera Temple, Nara

      Yatadera stands high on a wooded hillside outside the town of Yamato Koriyama, the castle town and governmental center of Nara in the Edo-period (before that, Kofukuji Temple served as both religious and worldly authority in the area). Some of that bygone splendor can still be faintly seen in a beautiful park, Sotobori Ryokuchi, (the Outer Moat of the castle), while also the main shopping street of Koriyama sports a nice old-time atmosphere. One of the traditional town houses, the Hakamotokan is open to visitors. The Yanagisawa clan that ruled here for most of the Edo period seems to have been quite cultured - there were for example contacts with painter Ike no Taiga. Literally colorful is also the fact that in the 18th century Koriyama became a center of goldfish and ornamental carp farming, a position it still holds today. The castle grounds themselves are famous for their cherry blossoms.

      [Jizo statue on the path to Yatadera]

      Yatadera temple, offically known as Kongosenji, sits about half an hour (3.5 kilometres) outside Koriyama, on - how could it be otherwise - the Yata Hills. In fact, it stands just north of Ikaruga, the area famous for Horyuji and other ancient temples, on a path that links Ikaruga with Ryosenji in the north and passes several old temples.

      In the hydrangea season there are special, direct buses available between Koriyama and the temple. The parking lot where the buses drop of their passengers, is still some way from the temple but the locals make the trek pleasant by setting up stalls selling snacks and products from their vegetable gardens. After that, a broad staircase leads among verdant trees up to the temple proper.


      [Staircase leading to Yatadera]

      Yatadera claims to have been founded in 679, after Emperor Tenmu (who is closely connected with Yakushiji temple, elsewhere in Nara) fled here during the Jinshin Disturbance and had prayers said for victory in battle on the mountain. Founding priest was Chitsu, a man who had studied in China and would become the second transmitter of the Hosso School of the Chinese priest Xuanzang in Japan.

      Reputedly, the original Yatadera was a large temple, with seven halls and 48 residences for priests. An Eleven-headed Kannon and Kishoten served as its main statues. The temple afterwards fell in ruins and was founded anew in the period 810-823 by the holy priest Manmai and this time a Jizo became the main sculpture.

      Jizo is a Bodhisattva entrusted with the task of saving us, helpless human beings, in the endlessly long period until the advent of the next Buddha, Miroku. In Japan, the cult of Jizo was as popular as that of Kannon, especially among the common people.


      [Main Hall of Yatadera]

      Jizo was already worshipped in the Nara period (8th c.), but the earliest extant image of him can be found in Koryuji temple in Kyoto, dating from the early 9th c. The "Yata Jizo" holds a gem in his left hand and displays the "mudra for bestowing fearlessness" with his right hand, in contrast to the usual Jizo statues which carry a monk's staff in the right hand. Unfortunately, the altar section of the temple is closed off and the Jizo resides in a closed cabinet, so it is not possible for visitors to see this important statue.

      Luckily, there are many stone statues and reliefs of Jizo outside the temple, along the path, and among the hydrangea's. Interestingly, one of these stone Jizo's is also in the above mentioned "Yata style."


      [Jizo statue on the path to Yatadera]

      There is a beautiful story how Jizo became the main object of devotion in Yatadera. Priest Manmai had been invited to the Underworld to give the Boddhisattva Precepts to its Lord, King Enma. Out of gratitude, Enma took him on a tour through hell, proudly showing off his Kingdom of Fear. There Manmai saw innumerable human beings suffering in terrible fires, being cooked in boiling hot water, or pierced with stakes by hideously green devils. But Manmai also saw a priest going around, busy saving humans from the raging flames. That young priest was non other than the Jizo Bodhisattva in disguise.

      The Jizo spoke to Manmai and asked him to sculpt an image of him after returning to his temple, so that those still living in the human world might be saved by looking upon him. Manmai returned and dutifully started to execute the Jizo's wish. But the carving of the Jizo statue proved unexpectedly difficult... until Manmai received help from four old sages, who also brought him a large paulownia tree. These four sages were in fact an apparition of the Kasuga deities, from the well-known shrine in Nara... and thanks to their help finally a beatifully Jizo statue was carved.

      Jizo looks like a young, smart priest, and he has a friendly, soft smile, so it is no wonder that in the course of history countless generations of women fell in devotion before his feet.


      [Hydrangea's of Yatadera]

      Yatadera is known as "Hydrangea Temple," and not for nothing. There are about 10,000 hydrangea's (called "ajisai" in Japanese), in all 60 varieties. They line the path leading to the temple and stand clustered in a garden laid out on a slope to the left of the path. Hydrangea's are not native to Europe and were first described in the 18th c. by European travelers to China. Later, Von Siebold, the famous German doctor who worked on Deshima for the Dutch, would play a large role in introducing the flowers to Europe's gardens.

      The hydrangea (also called hortensia) with its soft shades of blue and purple is beautiful in its reticence. It is always subdued, best seen on an overcast day, under the shade of large trees, or even in a light drizzle. Although the flower heads are large, there is nothing ostentatious about them. They are full of quiet, subtle beauty.


      [Jizo statues and hydrangea's in Yatadera]

      As the temple mentions on its website, in a survey by the Nikkei Newspaper in 2005, Yatadera was selected as the second best spot to see hydrangea's in western Japan (No 1 was Kobe's Shinrin Botanical Garden, No 3 was Mimurotoji Temple in Uji).

      There are many small paths, up and down, leading through bushes and clusters with different kinds of flowers. Walking here is like being immersed in a green aquarium, floating as large goldfish among the colorful flowers and shady leaves.

      And finally visitors meet Jizo again, squinting from among the leaves, his face just as soft and modest as the hydrangea's...
      Yatadera (Kongosenji)
      Address: 3549 Yatacho, Koriyama City, Yamato-gun, Nara Prefecture
      Tel. 0743-53-1445
      Access: 20 min by bus from Koriyama Station on the Kintetsu line. Frequent buses in June (hydrangea season), also from Horyuji station on the JR line. The Hydrangea Garden is open from June 1 to July 10.

      June 11, 2012

      Kayama Yuzo (actor, singer)

      Kayama Yuzo (born 1937, 加山雄三) was the son of the likable Uehara Ken, Japan's biggest male star of the 1930s. So father so son: the handsome Kayama Yuzo achieved the same for the 1960s. He became symbolic of postwar Japanese affluence and confidence, most famously in his title role in the 17 "Young Guy" (Wakadaisho) movies he made for Toho.

      Kayama Yuzo was born in Yokohama and went to Keio University in Tokyo. After graduation, he joined the Toho studios, like his father before him. He debuted in 1960 in Otoko Tai Otoko ("Man against Man"), a sort of gangster movie with Mifune Toshiro. In 1961, he also started a career as singer-songwriter, and took part in the famous New Year's Eve NHK show Kohaku Uta Gassen. His most famous song, that also features in several of his films, was "Kimi to itsu made mo," ("For Ever With You") - the single sold more than 3 million copies.


      Kayama specialized in romantic comedies where he would often sing his own songs. But he was also asked for serious films, such as Kurasawa's Red Beard (Akahige, 1965) in which he played one of the major roles, that of the young doctor Yasumoto Noboru.  He also played in Kurosawa's earlier Sanjuro (1962) as Izaka Iori. Other important serious roles were that of Lord Asano in Inagaki's Chushingura (1962), that of the male protagonist Morita Koji in Naruse's Midareru (opposite Takamine Hideko) and Utsuki Hyoma in Okamoto's Sword of Doom (1966).

      But the role with which Kayama Yuzo became identified was that of Wakadaisho, the "Young Guy" (literally, young captain, the team leader of a sports team). Wakadaisho ran from 1961 to 1971 and was one of the four comedy series and money cows of Toho in the 1960s (the others were the Shacho and the Ekimae series with Morishige Hisaya, and the "Crazy" series with Ueki Hitoshi). All films are in color and CinemaScope and feature broadly filmed sports events (it was no coincident that the series started a few years before Japan played host to the Olympics).

      The series took its inspiration from a 1933 film by Shimizu Hiroshi, Daigaku no Wakadanna ("The Young Master of the University"). Kayama plays Tanuma Yuichi, the son of a traditional sukiyaki restaurant and at university the leader of a sports club - a different sports in each film. He lives with his father Kyutaro (a rather irascible person, played by Arishima Ichiro) and a cute and comic granny Riki (a great performance by Iida Choko). Tanuma's counterpart at the same university (Kyonan Daigaku) is the "Aodaisho," Ishiyama Shinjiro, played by Tanaka Kunie. "Aodaisho" in fact is the Japanese Rat Snake and in the film is a spoiled rich kid (looking unattractive and funny) with a yacht and a sports car, who uses his money power to compete with the Wakadaisho for girls. But that happens all in a good mood. The roles of the girl friends are usually played by Hoshi Yuriko, Sakai Wakako and Sakaguchi Ryoko. Kayama's father, Uehara Ken, would also have brief roles in various of the films.

      The films all follow the same pattern. The Wakadaisho happens to meet a nice young woman and they fall in love. The Aodaisho in some way or another obstructs the course of their courtship, while the fact that Tanuma is very popular with other women, causes the new face to have fits of jealousy. Then Tanuma wins first place in an important sports event as representative of Kyonan University, and the young lovers make up their differences.

      The sports featured are: swimming, boxing, marathon running, yacht racing, American football, skiing, soccer, judo, motor sport, fencing, skating, tennis and skydiving. All films have scenes where Kayama Yuzo sings and plays the guitar. Several films were made partly at locations outside Japan, such as Switzerland, New Zealand and Hawai'i.

      In the late sixties Kayama got too old to play a student, so in the 12th film ("The Wakadaisho of Rio", 1968) he is allowed to graduate, and from the next film on plays a salaryman. Instead of winning sports events, he now clinches deals for his company.

      Kayama has maintained his romantic appeal for nostalgic audiences in Japan and still often appears on the stage and on television.