The IAFOR
Academic Review
Volume 1 | Issue 2

In this edition
Kuki Shūzō’s Temporal Aesthetics:
Finding Japanese Identity in Art andLiterature
The Influence and Remaining
Japanese Cultural Elements in Raku
Artworks of Contemporary NonJapanese Artists/Potters
Ikebana to Contemporary Art:
Rosalie Gascoigne
Imagined Innocence Lost: The
Performance of Post-Indigeneity inEikoh Hosoe and Tatsumi Hijikata’s
Kamaitachi
Common Songs: A Study of the
Saibara Collection and Inquiry into
“Fuzoku” Arts in the Heian Court

Essays in Japanese Arts
& Culture
ISSN: 2188-9570

THE IAFOR ACADEMIC REVIEW

1CONTENTS

8

3

1-2

8-15

Art: Rosalie Gascoigne

Editorial Committee

The Influence andShoso Shimbo

Introduction

Remaining JapaneseMonash University, Australia

An introduction to the

Cultural Elements in Raku

latest edition of The IAFOR

Artworks of Contemporary 21-27

Academic Review by

Non-Japanese Artists/

Imagined Innocence Lost:

Michael Liam Kedzlie

Potters

The Performance of Post-

Khairul Nizan Mohd

Indigeneity in Eikoh Hosoe

3-7Aris, Vaughan Rees andand Tatsumi Hijikata’s

Kuki Shūzō’s Temporal

Jacqueline Clayton

Kamaitachi

Aesthetics: Finding

The University of New South

Michael Sakamoto

Japanese Identity in Art

Wales, Australia

Goddard College, USA

Diogo Cesar Porto da Silva

16-20

28-33

Kyushu University, Japan

Ikebana to Contemporary

Common Songs: A Studyand Literature

THE IAFOR ACADEMIC REVIEW

16

28

21
of the Saibara Collection
and Inquiry into “Fuzoku”
Arts in the Heian Court
James Scalon – Canegata,
University of Hawaii at Manoa,
USA
34-37
Table of References
Cover Image“Sans Titre” (Untitled)
by Vivien Isnard (1987)
Pigment on canvas.
Collection of the MAMAC in
Nice, France.
Image sourced Flickr
Creative Commons
https://www.flickr.com/
photos/9619972@N08/

The IAFOR Academic Review
Volume 1 | Issue 2

Editorial Committee
Rev. Professor Stuart Picken – Chairman of the IAB
Dr. Joseph Haldane – IAFOR Executive Director
Mr. Michael Liam Kedzlie – IAFOR Research andPolicy Manager
IAFOR Asian Studies Conference Chairs andAdvisory Board
Professor Baden Offord – Director and Professor,
Centre for Human Rights Education, Curtin
University, Australia
Professor Donald E. Hall – Herbert J. and Ann L.
Siegel Dean, Lehigh University, USA
Dr. Thomas French - Ritsumeikan University, Japan
IAFOR Publications © Copyright 2015
ISSN: 2188-9570

Editorial Committee Introduction
The International Academic Forum’s (IAFOR) key
mission is to provide avenues for academics andresearchers to be international, intercultural andinterdisciplinary. One of the ways in which we dothis is through our in-house Eye magazine, ourvideo and audio interview presentations, the various
conference proceedings, the IAFOR Journal series,
and now starting in 2015 are our special editions of
the IAFOR Academic Review. In this edition of the
IAFOR Academic Review the editorial committee
brings together a selection of the most interesting
contributions from our recent conferences withrespect to the Japanese Arts and Culture. The
papers selected for this special edition certainlyreflect the international, intercultural andinterdisciplinary approach that lies at the heart ofboth IAFOR and Cultural Studies. The reveal theintense passion of both the researchers for theirsubject but also reveal the artistic soul of Japan as acomplex, enigmatic and evolving visual narrative, thesite of artistic endeavor, journey and discovery. This
Japanese Arts edition provides a taste of the diverse
range of topics covered by our conferences andsubsequent research papers that have a Japanesecontext with the Arts, Culture, and Humanities overthe last two years. We hope you will enjoy reading
and thinking about these selected contributions.

2. The Influence and Remaining Japanese Cultural
Elements in Raku Artworks of Contemporary NonJapanese Artists/Potters
Khairul Nizan Mohd Aris, Vaughan Rees andJacqueline Clayton, of The University of New South
Wales, Australia examine the extent to which
Japanese cultural elements –specifically the ‘spirit’ or
philosophy of traditional Japanese Raku− areretained and evidenced in contemporary artworks by
non-Japanese artists/potters in Australia. Theirresearch is posited within Aris’s own art practice as aceramic artist/potter who was exposed to theWestern/American style of Raku earlier in his
career, but then later experienced the making ofRaku in its traditional form in Japan. Their research
identifies and analyses the extent to which the spirit
and philosophy of original Raku artforms as a traceof cultural interaction, either direct or indirectly
influence artists/potters in their art practice, finishedartworks.
3. Ikebana to Contemporary Art: Rosalie
Gascoigne
Shoso Shimbo, Monash University, Australia
Rosalie Gascoigne is regarded as one of a few artists
for whom Japanese art was “the gateway” to her own
art as opposed to many other Australian artists in
1960s whom were merely influenced. Her career as
an artist and the role of Japanese Art in her artistic
development is the central focus of Shoso Shimbo’s
paper Repositioning Ikebana in Contemporary Art.
Shimbo reveals how Gascoigne who studied Ikebanain the 1960s became frustrated with its limitations,and started making assemblages. Shimbo proposesthat the order of composition within her
assemblages was inherited from Ikebana traditions
and was a bridging between classical Ikebana andcontemporary art and that Gascoigne’s work is acase study of cultural transformation across borders.

Contributors:
1. Kuki Shūzō’s Temporal Aesthetics: Finding
Japanese Identity in Art and Literature
Diogo Cesar Porto da Silva, from Kyushu
University, Japan deals with Kuki's Propor sur letemps and Metaphysics of Literature in his paper
Kuki Shūzō’s Temporal Aesthetics: Finding
Japanese Identity in Art and Literature. Porto da
Silva defines then analyses the notion of Aesthetics
in Kuki's text by focusing mainly on the oriental
time that he characterizes as transmigration as well
as how such a temporality is expressed within
Japanese art. Porto da Silva; considers that with
Kuki’s Metaphysics of Literature the constantconcern is to support a conception of literature as apure intuition of the present.

4. “Imagined Innocence Lost: The Performance ofPost-Indigeneity in Eikoh Hosoe and Tatsumi
Hijikata’s Kamaitachi” by Michael Sakamoto,Goddard College, USA
Created a half century ago by Hijikata Tatsumi,
Butoh was born as a postwar dance form, artistic
1

Heian court. Specifically, it deals with the treatmentof Saibara in Ichijō Kanera’s Ryōjin guanshō and the
Fujiwara and Minamoto manuscript traditions
reveal a distinctly different “handling” of thecollection than that of the major literary works ofthe period. The songs of Saibara grant a uniqueglimpse into cultural practices of the world beyond
the court, and give further insight into the ubiquityof these practices. Many of the songs push theboundaries of (assumed) cultural taboos, but theiradoption and apparent pervasiveness in the court
suggests a strong affinity for these aestheticallydivergent songs. Despite its apparent merit, Saibara
as well as archaic min’yō have received only
moderate attention from Japanese scholars and havebeen all but completely absent in Western literaryscholarship. The adoption and presentation of thesesongs in the literature reflect the seemingly
diametric position of fuzoku as both an exotic andarcane practice and as a primordial native art—vis-avis socio-cultural class distinctions of commoner andnobility. Scalon-Canegata’s paper ultimately seeks toestablish Saibara at the intersection of court
refinement and the raw, unpretentious essence ofmin’yō musical culture.

movement, and cultural opposition to themainstream social order. While numerous iterations
have developed since then, most Butoh-based forms
generally focus on disengaging from oppressive or“over-socialized” behavioral patterns throughdeconstructing movement, speech, thought, andaction. In this essay, Michael Sakamoto of Goddard
College, USA, asserts that Butoh photo-imagery has
contributed to the comprehension, definition, andperceived legitimacy of Butoh-based practices inJapan, and the prime example of this phenomenon
was the photo essay, Kamaitachi. Sakamoto
theorizes
that
Kamaitachi
representedafundamental shift in Hijikata’s artistic identity fromanti-Western to post-indigenous and also came tosymbolize the very essence of Butoh performance forlater generations of both Japanese and transnational
practitioners.
5. Common Songs: A Study of the Saibara
Collection and Inquiry into "Fuzoku" Arts in the
Heian Court
James Scalon–Canegata, University of Hawaii at
Manoa, USA
James Scalon-Canegata, of the University of Hawaii
at Manoa, USA looks at the significance of Saibara
as a fuzoku collection, which reveals theconceptualization of ‘folk’ or ‘commoner’ within the

A full reference list for this paper can be found in
the Table of References section.

2

Kuki Shūzō's Temporal Aesthetics:
Finding Japanese Identity in Art andLiterature
DIOGO CÉSAR PORTO DA SILVAKYUSHU UNIVERSITY, JAPANI believe that the ‘will’ that Kuki talks about as the originof time, is this individual subject that lives and encounter
others in the present temporality of contingence. In thisway, the oriental time is the time of transmigration.
"Transmigration is the indefinite reborn, the everlasting
repetition of the will, the endless return of time. Or, themost remarkable and impressive that we can conceive
about transmigration is that the man become the same
man in everlasting repetition." (Kaki, 1980) Such a
notion of time, necessarily, raises the question of identity.
We know that the well-know idea of Karma works bycausality: good deeds lead to a good Karma that will
make this same person to reborn as a human, evil deeds
lead to a rebirth in the form of an animal or even an
insect. How it is possible to sustain the same identity if
someone reborn as an animal or insect? Kuki's answer isthat if someone reborn as an insect, in her previous life
she already lived an inner life of an insect. In this way,nothing is more consequent that this same person reborn
as an insect that was already her inner life. The identity issustained, since the continuity of the same identity is thegeneral case, the contrary is just the exception.

A Time of Transmigration; An Art of theInfinite
Before talking about time, Kuki has to come all the way
back to the origin of time, just then start to talk about theoriental time. His presupposition is that time is will, thus
consciousness. The discussion that posits ‘will’ as theorigin of time is quite recent inside Western Philosophy,
since from Aristotle's definition of time as the measure of
movement, Philosophy seeks for a transpersonal andobjective concept of time, a time to which all nature is
subjected too. For instance, when was said that thetime/duration of one day is the Sun's trajectory in thesky.

This is the case because the maintenance of identity as
the touchstone of the temporality of transmigration goes
all the way beyond the individuals to the world. In otherwords, one will reborn as the same in a world that is thesame, because this world is ruled by a periodic time.
We can conceive imagetically the temporality that Kuki
describes as a standing spring of which the ends areconnected. Each circle of this spring is identical to theother ones and since they are all connected, including theone in the bottom and the other on the top, we cannot
tell apart neither the first one nor the last one in the
succession. Here, Kuki distinguishes in a very compelling
way to the discussion the occidental and the oriental
notions of time. In the occident we have three kinds of
temporality: past, present and future, they succeed
horizontally progressing from the past through thepresent in direction to the future. According to Kuki thisis the phenomenological temporality. Whereas, theoriental time of transmigration, here called mystic, isvertical meaning that each present, even in the past or
future, has an infinite deepness. Once again using the

Kuki Shuzo (Photo Public Domain)3

image of the spring, we can just imagine a vertical line
passing through all the circles at the same point, thesepoints are identical in every circle and designate the same
present that repeats itself indefinitely. Bearing thesecharacteristics in mind, we can trace the differences
between the mystical and the phenomenological time.
The last one is continuous, whereas the first one is
discontinuous. Moreover, the phenomenological time is apure heterogeneously, thus irreversible, while the mystic
time is a pure homogeneity and reversible. "Assumingthese essential differences, we can say: the horizontal
plane represents the ontological-phenomenologicalecstasy, the vertical plane the metaphysical-mystic
ecstasy." (Kaki, 1980)

The transcendental, intellectual is about a negation of thewill by intellectual means, through knowledge. Kuki
identifies such way of liberation in Buddhism, in which
the nirvana is the abolition of any will and any desire.
Recognizing the self, the source of will, as an illusion,
this self is abolished with the will that is produced by it,time is also negated, since is the will that produces time.
The immanent voluntarist liberation is born from theBushidō as an affirmation of the will, i.e., the negation of
the negation. Even so this will is fated to always been
disillusioned, always failing, the eternal repetition of thesame is taken as a good. Bushidō pursues the ideal of thewill, and even that this ideal is impossible to reach; theeternal and repeated attempt to reach it has an absolutevalue. "Pursue perfection while maintaining a clear
consciousness as to its 'deception.'' Live in perpetualtime, in Endlosigkeit, to use Hegel's terms. Find
Unendlichkeit in Endlosigkeit, infinity in the indefinite,
eternity in succession without end. " (Light, 1987; Kaki,
1980)

Both notions of time have direct consequences to theunderstanding of identity. Kuki claims that the will is theorigin of time. A will that produces the occidental
horizontal temporality resolves the temporal question ofidentity by means of continuity. There is no doubt thatthe person who desire, i.e., the willing person is the "I",in a similar way this "I" that produces time insofar hedesires, he desires along time. Thus, we are leaded toconclude that if the will of this I changes through thetime, the I also change, however we have the clear
conscience that we are the same, our identity is holdtogether even in the ever-changing streams of time. In aheterogeneous temporality, the beginning (past) and theend (future) are clearly delimitated, since time isirreversible, as far its continuity maintain a successive
chain. By this, an identity is a question of the chain that
initiates in past, works in present and ends in future.
On the other hand, in a metaphysical-mystic temporality
the identity is sustained in another way. Given the
periodicity of time, it is impossible to distinguish a before
and an after, i.e., a past and a future, the instant is all thatexist and, beyond that the instant is the same instant that
repeats itself once more, eternally. Therefore, the willthat produces time is condemned to desire always thesame, it is an "instant that possess a deep and infinite
thickness" 1 . The world identity that constructs itself
through endless repetition of the Great Year, get mixed
up with the identity of the individual subjected totransmigration. "A continuity of the self exists here onlyin an imaginary way it is a continuity which reveals itself
only in mystical moments, the profound moments of a'profound enlightenment,' moments in which the self
takes recognition of itself with an astonishing shudder.
'The self exists' at the same time that the 'self does notexist'." (Light, 1987; Kaki, 1980). That is the reason why
together with the metaphysical-mystic we have thequestion of the liberation from time that Kuki identifies
in two forms: the transcendental, intellectual liberationand the immanent voluntarist liberation.

Japanese art also would have its ground on this temporalexperience marked by the attempt of liberation from bothtime and space. The Japanese Bushidō, Kuki claims,
received a double influence and was configured by Indian
Buddhism as a religion, what Kuki calls mysticism, andthe Chinese philosophy of Daoism which is defined as
pantheism. Kuki doesn't go beyond in explaining themysticism in Buddhism as the search for the ideal of

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
1

See Dōgen’s formulation of “existential instant”.

4

Nirvana, in the same way, the pantheism inherent toDaoism is explained through the understanding of Dao
as the essence and beginning of all things.

As we saw above Kuki's aesthetics is based on theexpression of a cultural essence through art. Japanese art
expresses the temporality of transmigration that, throughBushidō, earns the character of the infinity expressed in a
finite artwork. The reason being is the affirmation of thewill, this one is a continuous effort toward the ideal
which in turn would ever be archived. In a temporality,
which its features are reversibility and verticality it is
impossible to put apart past from future, leaving just apresent in an everlasting repetition, which means that
this present has an infinite deep. It is in the creation
technique we observe in Japanese art where Kuki finds
the expression of this infinite present.

The Bushidō would harmonize with these two traditions,deepening them regarding art. As we've saw above,
Bushidō seeks the affirmation of the will until its
absolutization, hence in art instance, Kuki will interpret
this as a search to express the infinity in the finite. In thesame way that a purely Buddhist art would search forliberation from time, and a Daoist art would seek for an
expression of the Dao, Japanese art's claim is to express
the ideal of infinity in the individual and finite artworks.
We see here Kuki conceiving art as a form of expressionof a spiritual reality. This is the point we should stress if
our aim is to grasp Kuki's concept of aesthetics. Then, art
is pervaded with meaning without which it is hard tounderstand it in a correct way2, such meaning, however,is not inputted on the artwork by its creator like weshould expect from a Romantic Aesthetics of the genius.
Quite the opposite, it is given from culture. We canclearly notice a certain Hegelian influence for whom art
is an already overcame expression of the Spirit. Spirit
seems like to be understood by Kuki as culture or, if wewish a closest designation, as a world-view. It is not acoincidence that Kuki claims, following closely Okakura
Tenshin, that it is the Japanese art that deepen the
Oriental ideal of art. "Its [Bushidō's] ideal consists only inliving and dying as the 'cherry blossom, exhaling its
perfume in the morning light.' It is from this triple
source that the 'inward art' of Yamato is born. It is in thisspiritual atmosphere that it attains its full flowering."(Light, 1987; Kuki, 1980).

In painting, Kuki will first of all analyze the perspective.
While in Occidental art we find a geometric perspective,
in Oriental art we encounter a perspective that destroys aspatial perspective, replacing it with a spiritual
perspective in which it's measures are left for the one
before the painting to decide. This perspective is called
Metaphysical. The second aspect is an arbitrarycomposition. The represented in the paint is left
incomplete and, hence, according to Kuki, alive, a kindof "form for the form's sake." Such a kind of arbitrarycomposition, again leave to the spirit of the gazer the taskof exercising her spirit to follow the suggestive values
there represented, suggestive value that come to replace
the aesthetical value. The next point is the line. We areaware that calligraphy became a form of art in the
Orient, this because the line, per se, can express
movement. According to Kuki, the absolute is dynamic,
because what moves do this movement in the present, ina present that doesn't fade away inasmuch there is
movement. The forth feature is color. In Oriental art,
especially in the ink painting (Sumie) tradition we findthe black and white, here what Kuki emphasizes is thesimplicity and fluidity came "from the nostalgia of theinfinity and from the effort to exclude the differences intime" (Kuki, 1980). Hisamatsu Shin'ichi in his study on
Zen and Fine arts also stresses the dynamics between
color and simplicity (this last one he calls No
Complexity): "While No Form is thus the simplest form,
no color is, likewise, the simplest color; an what is simple
in the sense of having no color cannot be anything else
but the Formless Self" (Hisamatsu, 1982). Kuki
concludes with considerations about the subject inpainting. Beauty is painting's main motif, whereas theinfinity pervades all that exists, without any exception,and it is the beauty. It is art that expresses and teaches us
to see such beauty in that of most "aesthetical" and evenin what is morally reprehensible3.

If our interpretation is correct, inasmuch we grasp
Bushidō as a world-view, it becomes the very essence ofthe culture in which it was born, in other words, Bushidō
becomes the essence of Japanese culture. Kuki's
philosophy, then incur in two problems: 1) the
correctness of the concept of Bushidō we find in Kuki's
thought; and 2) if it is possible to attribute to just one
trait all the essence of the art of a specific culture.

Kuki Shuzo's Aesthetics
	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
2

Kuki stresses very strongly this point as we can notice in thefollowing statement. "It is from this triple source that the "inward art"of Yamato is born. It is in this spiritual atmosphere that it attains its
full flowering. Consequently, without knowing something of theseconceptions of life and world it becomes almost impossible tounderstand Japanese art. Its meaning, the idealist expression of theinfinite in the finite, will go unexplained. Therefore, there are inEurope very few people who truly understand Japanese art. Does not
Japanese art for most Europeans consist in woodblock prints ofwomen and landscapes, or in the tea ceremony with its multicoloredporcelain. Yet for the most part these things are rather insignificant.
The truly great works of art habitually remain unknown". (Kaki, 1980;
Light, 1987)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
3

5

It is noteworthy to point out here that Kuki borrows from Aristotle’s
philosophy his claim that regarding painting mimesis cannot be
condemn, by the contrary, it is admirable, since we humans are beings
that take pleasure from knowledge we can learn something from an art
that mimics something abominable that normally we cannot look at.
However, through the mimesis performed by painting this same thing
became somewhat pleasant and by looking at it we can learn

point of view. Kuki understand metaphysics by a mere
contraposition to aesthetics, which means, a search for
Literature's philosophical meaning beyond its aestheticalvalue. It behooves us to ask if he really accomplished his
intention.

Kuki classifies Japanese poetry as a temporal art, thus,
distinguishing itself from spatial arts like painting andarchitecture. Temporal arts have the aim to release notfrom space, instead to release from time. To argue infavor of this interpretation, Kuki lists sevencharacteristics of Japanese poetry that provides liberationfrom time. The smallest thing as well the biggest one
contains the infinity. This is the first trace described by
Kuki concerning Japanese poetry, here referring to the
traditional forms of the Tanka and Haiku. The second
one is said from the asymmetric character we find inthese poetic forms, since, according to Kuki, the absolutewould be impossible to be contained in a rigid form, only
in "a form for the form's sake." Turning again to Tanka
and Haiku, Kuki emphasizes the first one five-sevenfive-seven-seven's and the last one five-seven-five,syllabic structure. Suggestion is the third trace. Japanese
poetry leave something of vague about its whereabouts,
just suggesting its meaning, "keeping in silence, a silence
more eloquent than eloquence itself." We could also add
to Japanese poetry suggestive feature its poeticaltechniques as makura-kotoba (pillow word) and kire (cut).
The forth one is "the pantheist thought (Daoism), theidea that the essence of Totality is identical." Kuki
identifies this in Basho's Haiku. What is said here is thattwo distinct poetical images reflect each other, one is
identified with the small and daily, the other one with
the immensurable and transcendent, however both of itends up mixing themselves in one and same image4. The
fifth feature reflects the simplicity of color and theme,
which is the same case we have saw before when dealing
with painting. Such simplicity intermingles with theinfinity overcoming multiplicity. The sixth one talks
about the negative aspect that is transformed into a
positive one, since, like the case of painting, Daoism's
pantheism see Dao in everything that exists. Finally, thelast one deals with the repetition of time. Clearly, Kuki
alludes to the representation of the instant, with which
we are used to face when we read a Haiku. Kuki
interprets the instant as the temporality of contingence,of the chance or failure, an encounter that constitutes the
only real time: the present time.

Following the same line of argumentation that we have
saw in the previous section, Kuki attributes to art ingeneral the temporality of present, whereas "When we
ask what kind of temporal quality art possess, we can saythat so long as it takes intuition as its specific character,art holds a temporal place in the present" (Kuki, 2004).
We find here a clear reference to the intuition describedby Bergson. In spite of in his philosophy the privileged
temporality be the past, Kuki uses Bergson's intuition
concept focusing in the idea of inner continuity. Basing
his aesthetic in the notion of expression, Kuki cannot
avoid giving a place in his thought to the one to whom
expression is directed to: the receiver. Art expresses aworld-view, the artist seeks to express the infinite in itspurest form, insofar the receiver internalizes such
expression and elevates her spirit until the point of aliberation of time and/or space5. Such spiritualization ofart expression in the form of a liberation from time orspace it is only possible if art has the temporal quality of
intuition as Bergson describes it: "The intuition we aretalking about bears, before all, the inner duration [...]
Intuition means firstly consciousness, but immediate
consciousness, vision that scarcely distinguishes itself
from the object saw, knowledge which is contact andeven coincidence. [...] The intuition is that that reaches
the spirit, the duration and the pure changing" (Bergson,1946).
Using Bergson's quotation as a basis, we can claim thatthe present Kuki affirms we find in Literature is not thepresent of a dot, rather the present understood as
duration and extension. In other words, the present ofqualitative time. Kuki proves his point taking as an
example the syllabic cut in poetry, unit of metrical verse
and rhyme, all of them, rather than implying
homogeneity similar to that of the quantitative time of
the clock, implies a particular fluidity hold by each poem.
The poetical accent and rhyme create in the verse achanging and unpredictable temporal impression,
howsoever we can count the cuts, poetic syllables andidentifies the rhymes, this always happens at a particularduration imposed by the poem's own structure.

Literature: An Art of the Present
The temporality of art as the present that repeats itself
eternally and vertically reappears in the moment Kuki
deals exclusively with Literature from a metaphysical

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
something about the theme represented. In a similar line ofargumentation, the “art for the art’s sake” theory claims that art
should not be morally or legally condemned, because what is there
represented should be aesthetically judge, a sphere apart from moral
and law. Following this, Kuki will affirm, in a very enigmatic fashionthat “the art for the art’s sake theory is a theory of the absoluteidealism in art.” (Kuki, 1980)
4
The most paradigmatic of Basho's Haiku is an example of this: An
octopus pot –inside, a short-lived dream under the summer moon
(Trans. Ueda)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
5

6

"Doubtless it is his divine hand which unveils eternal beauty and,
thereby, gives the spectators vertigo, but the task of the spectators
remains intact: it is incumbent upon them to make the great leap, toenter into depthless metaphysical abysses and to be overwhelmed
there. Thus, twice is art liberated from time: once in the artist who
creates infinity, once in the spectators who participate, as it were, inthis creation by their contemplation of works of art" (Light, pp. 6263).

To admit that Literature possesses a qualitative
temporality implies distinguishes it from music, anotherart in which the qualitative time is evident. Kuki
distinguishes them through a classification that places
literature as a linguistic art and music as an acoustic art.
Which means that the realm of music is the sound: amusical piece is represented in a given duration, which is,
by turn, filled entirely by its own temporality. However,in the case of literature, because its realm is imagination
and representation, besides filling the duration of thereading of a poem or a romance, for example, it also
creates another conceptual temporality. We could read apoem about the entire spring just in thirty seconds, in thesame way, take us three days to read a romance about anentire life. The conceptual and meaningful character oflanguage adds to literature's perceptive temporality (i.e.,the duration of reading) another temporal layer that Kuki
calls conceptual temporality. Thus, literature as a
linguistic art's temporality is found in the fact that it
possesses a multilayered temporality. Music holds a onelayered qualitative temporality, while literature holds a
multilayered qualitative temporality; this is the main
distinction between these two forms of art.

temporality of Japanese art and enlarges it to all poetic
forms8.

In this way, Kuki's aesthetics consists of thepresupposition that the temporality of art is the present;
it acquires the form of an eternal present or a deep
present through the repetitions we find in poeticaltechniques. "For this he [Don Juan, the paradigmatic
esthete] has no time; for him everything is merely anaffair of the moment. In a certain sense it can be said of
psychical love that to see her and to love her are thesame, but this only suggests a beginning. [...] To see her
and to love her are the same; this is in the moment. In
the same moment everything is over, and the same thing
repeats itself indefinitely". (Kierkegaard, 1987)

We need to make a last observation concerning thedivision of styles in literature: prose, drama and poetry6.
Here we will deal only with poetry because it isparadigmatic inside Kuki's aesthetics. Poetry's temporalnature is the present. Thus, by being a form of art its
temporality belongs to present, as a linguistic art it also
possesses a multilayered temporality and, finally, forbeing poetry it also has a tendency to present. This
happens, because it concentrates in itself the same featurein two ways: as expression of feelings and intuitions of
the present7 and using its poetical techniques. In short,both the meaningful content as well as the form conducts
poetry toward the present. The intensity of feelings withwhich we are used before the reading of a poem and its
short form, almost momentary, like the repetition of theform in rhymes and the alliteration are emphasized by
Kuki to prove his argumentation that poetry is an"eternal now." This strengths Kuki's definition of theFull references of this research paper are found in the
Table of References section.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
6

Kuki classifies the literary forms of prose, drama and poetry
regarding the temporal tendency that each one of them possesses.
Prose would has a tendency towards past, because Kuki conceives it
based in the Japanese term Monogatari. Kataru, to talk, evokes
noberu, to tell, that in turn is homophonic with another verb, noberu,
to stretch. Therefore, to tell a story is to stretch it from its beginning,from the past. In the case of drama, the fact that it is played puts inplay human actions. These actions are directed by will, will that isalways directed to a future purpose. The most appropriate examples
are comedy and tragedy, these classified due the ending that each plot
incurs; comedy an unusual ending and tragedy a regrettable ending. In
this way, Kuki comes to the conclusion that drama possesses anorientation toward future.
7Here, Kuki evokes Motoori Norinaga's mono no aware theory.
(Kuki, 2004)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
8

7

We have to make a remark, albeit Kuki talks about poetry ingeneral, all of his examples that he uses to base his theory came fromJapanese literature, with one exception; to illustrate alliteration inthyme Kuki uses a poem from the Wei dynasty's Emperor Wen.

The Influence and Remaining Japanese
Cultural Elements in Raku Artworks ofContemporary Non Japanese
Artists/Potters
KHAIRUL NIZAN MOHD ARIS,
UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES, AUSTRALIA
intention.1 Raku ceramics supported the notion that thesimplest object posses great beauty and great significance.

Introduction
This research examines the extent to which Japanesecultural elements −specifically the ‘spirit’ or philosophy of
traditional Japanese Raku− are retained and evidenced incontemporary artworks by non-Japanese artists/potters inAustralia. This research is conducted in reflection of myown art practice as a ceramic artist/potter who was
exposed to the Western/American style of Raku in the
beginning of my career, but later experienced the makingof Raku in its traditional form in Japan. Through analysis
and reflection of contemporary Raku artworks together
with my own art practice, this research will identify theextent to which the spirit and philosophy of original
Raku either direct or indirectly influences artists/pottersin their art practices and remains in the artworks. In thisapproach, the artists’/potters’ artworks will be analyzed as
the trace of cultural interaction. This line of criticalenquiry develops in relation to a body of creative work,
which serves as a practice – led method of research.

Figure 1: The traditional Raku firing in Japan2
For four hundreds years, Japanese people have seen Raku
as being both simultaneously utilitarian and aesthetic.
According to John Dickerson, any attempt to divorce theobject from its practical purpose (for instance, by placing
it in museum) is inevitably detrimental to both the bowl
itself and to its appreciation.3 Such appreciation of thefunction of Raku ware is very important to the Japaneseconnoisseurs. The current head of the Raku family inJapan, Raku Kichizaemon XV,4 believes that the tea bowl
is a ‘living thing’ and should be handled and used
continuously, indeed, has been able to reclaim several
Raku tea bowls from museums, claiming the gallery case

Unlike conventional ceramic firing approaches, which
may take several days to complete, Raku is a method
where work is rapidly (often under an hour in duration)
fired and removed from the kiln when glowing hot. Raku
hasbecomepopularamongstcontemporary
artists/potters internationally since it was introduced to
the West in 1940s. Historically, Raku referred to thespiritual, religious, philosophical, ceremonial andfunctional characteristics of a specific style of ceramics.
First developed in the city of Kyoto, Japan in the late
Sixteenth Century during the Momoyama period (15731615), in its traditional form, Raku was used to produce
ceramic ware for the tea ceremony.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
1	
  Margot Osborne,Jeff Mincham : Ceramics, Living Treasure:

The tradition of Raku in Japan was surrounded bycultural concern that strongly affected the end product.
The aesthetic of original Raku is exemplified in the Zenconcept of wabi-sabi: the idea of an intrinsic humble
beauty and ‘thusness’ that transcends individual human8

Masters of Australian Craft. Craftman House, 2009 pg. 13.
2	
  Image taken fromhttp://article.wn.com/view/2012/05/12/46000_teacup/3	
  John Dickerson, Raku Handbook- A practical approach tothe ceramic art, Studio Vista, London, 1972, pg. 5.
4	
  The 14th generation of Raku family and the modern
representative of his family, his opinions carry a great deal ofweight. And he is certainly the closest thing there is today to an"orthodox" Raku voice, as conversation with Morgan Pitelka,
27th June 2012.

to be a ‘dusty glass coffin’. 5 In this sense, the Raku
tradition in Japan is rooted in the beauty of utility, not instyle or a specific technique or glaze.

Korean migrant, was selected by the tea master Sen no
Rikyu (1522-1591) from a group of ceramic tile
producers to collaborate on the production of ultimate
rustic, wabi8, teabowls.9 Raku wares were popular with asmall group of tea practitioners in and around Kyoto,
Japan’s capital city at that time. The tea ceremony proved
to be the vehicle that stimulated the highest level ofattainment in many aspects of Japanese culture and Raku
certainly owed its development and prestige to the cult of
tea.10Figure 2: The Tea Ceremony (chanoyu)6
For contemporary non-Japanese artists/potters, Raku is a
rapid firing ceramic process that is usually appreciated for
its aesthetic, tactile, sensory qualities and non-functional,
sculptural application. The ‘non-functional’ here stands
in opposition to ‘function’ understood as that which isusable (utilitarian).

Figure 3: Chojiro’s black Raku tea bowl named ‘Koto’,
16th Century, collection of Mr. Raku Kichizaemon XV,Japan.11

Non-Japanese/Western artists/potters such as Paul
Soldner, Rick Hirsch, and Robert Pipenburg in the 50s
and 60s encountered Raku and through their practices
have developed alternative approaches that maybe said togive a variety of ‘new’ meanings and most agreed thatindeed, an appraisal of their work indicates thatsuperficially at least, contemporary (American) Raku has
been distanced in terms of style, technique and purpose
from its traditional form. This research seeks toinvestigate the extend to which any residue of original,
traditional Raku sensibilities have been passed down to
non-Japanese artists/potters and still remain/resonate
in/with the work of contemporary artists/potters andtheir practices.

In Japan Raku has been mainly restricted to the
traditional forms of those articles used in the tea
ceremony, primarily tea bowls, incense boxes anddishes.12 Tea masters specified certain dictates in design
and function in accordance with the Zen ideal for the tea
bowl; the qualities admired were the unique,unrepeatable marks and imperfections imparted throughhand forming and the consequent irregular, asymmetrical
vessel forms. Japanese Raku was made in response tonature and natural forms.
The Raku tradition was transmitted to the West firstthrough the lectures and writings of Bernard Leach(1887–1979) and later through the popularizing or‘fusing’ efforts of artists/potters such as Paul Soldner(1921-2011). During the 1960s, Soldner adapted the
Raku technique, modifying many aspects including thestyle, process and even glaze formulae.

Research Background
From the beginning of the fifteenth century, the practiceof drinking tea had assumed an important role in the lifeof Japanese warrior leaders and the elites. At that timethey began holding gatherings at which tea was preparedand drunk in a ritualized, performative fashion. 7
Performative tea practice had gained popularity by thesixteenth century and potters developed the Raku
technique to meet the demands of the tea practitioners
for objects to be used in the tea ceremony (chanoyu).
One of these potters, Sasaki Chojiro (1516-1595), a

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
8	
  Loosely translated as austerity or simplicity, Wabi is the

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
5	
  Rick Hirch, The Raku Family Tradition, Studio Potter 7 (2),pg. 28-33.
6	
  Image taken fromhttp://www.singlestravel.com.au/Japan_2013_home.htm
7	
  Morgan Pitelka, Handmade Culture, University of Hawaii
Press, 2005 pg 5.	
  9natural expression of feelings that are neither ostentatious nor
imposing, and its spirit is the essence of the tea ceremony.
9	
  Morgan Pitelka, Flame, Smoke, Clay, Glaze, Ceramic Review
230 March/ April 2008, pg 38.	
  10	  John Dickerson, Raku Handbook- A practical approach tothe ceramic art, Studio Vista, London, 1972, pg. 31.	
  11	  Image taken from http://www.rakuyaki.or.jp/e/kichizaemon/index.html
12	
  John Dickerson, Raku Handbook- A practical approach tothe ceramic art, Studio Vista, London, 1972, pg. 5.

Figure 4: Paul Soldner, Padestal piece, Raku.13
Contemporary Raku can be described as encompassing
five layers or groups. The first is the Kyoto Raku lineage,
early exponents of the Raku process, which continues tooperate the wealthiest14 and most powerful kiln in the
Raku tradition. A second layer is made up of a handful ofother traditional groups such as Ohi ceramics 15 that
operate Raku kilns and are accepted as having some
legitimacy within the Japanese tea community. Followingthat is a group of Raku potters who serve the lesssophisticated ceramic consumer in Japan- the potters
who make the cheaper, somewhat fake-looking 16 Raku
tea bowls that can be bought for a low price. Then we
have Western potters who are interested in the tea
ceremony and Japanese traditions and make a version of
Raku that is close that which is made in Japan. Finally,
we have the layer of Western potters who do a version of
the so-called American/Soldner style of fusion Raku,
which has much less in common, technically speaking,with Japanese Raku.

Figure 5: Rick Hirch, ‘Mortar and Pestle’, Raku.18
According to Jones, because Raku is always associatedwith the chanoyu or ‘the way of tea’, that it is informed by
the Zen Buddhist and Taoist attitudes of life and implies
an emphasis on a state of being or a state of mind thatthe words ‘ceremony’ or ‘ritual’ do not. He further
explained that this refinement of a difficult translation of
a foreign cultural concept, which has occurred in theWest, is a process that has also informed Rick Hirch’s
own recent thinking.
In 2001 I had the opportunity to travel from mybirthplace of Malaysia to study ceramics for an extended
period in Japan. When I first encountered Raku in Japan,
I was instructed in making tea bowls without using amechanized pottery wheel – the traditional method ofcrafting tea bowls for the tea ceremony – that were thenfast fired in a process unique to Raku. In many ways it
was the opposite of what I had known of Raku in theWestern context.

Raku is not merely a practical technique that involves
fire, speed and performance. In the work of Rick Hirsch(one of the first Western/non Japanese potters use Raku
in his practice) that was reviewed by David Jones had astrong symbolic and metaphoric resonance that in a way
it parallels what happens in chanoyu.17

Before coming to Japan, I also learned the technique in a
way that involved post-reduction19 in the firing process,and assumed it had been always practised in this way.
Later, I discovered that post-reduction was never used in
the old tradition of Raku; American potter Paul Soldner,
firing in America, introduced this aspect of the process in
the 1960s. It should not be assumed, however, that suchchanges in traditional Raku through culture and timediminish the significance of contemporary Raku. Rather
contemporary Raku should be appreciated with respect tothe impact of cultural interaction and different
understanding towards Japanese culture.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
13	
  Image taken fromhttp://artfortheblogofit.blogspot.com.au/2011/01/paul-soldnerthis-his-his-technique.html
14	
  The workshop was sponsored by the warlord for gala Raku
performances on their estate and is still supported by the tea
masters who traced their lineage back to Sen no Rikyu. In the
post-war period (world war II), the potters from the Raku
family established a non-profit museum in Kyoto and became
involved in organizing exhibitions and writing books about
Raku.
15	
  Ohi Ceramics (Ohi yaki) is a pottery with a style unique toKanazawa, a branch kiln (waki gama) that was developed in
the Raku tradition founded by the Raku family members or
potters.	
  16	
  The design and technique of making the bowl does notexactly follow original Raku bowls.
17	
  David Jones, Raku Alchemy, Ceramic Review 230
March/April 2008, pg 27-29.	
  

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
18	
  Image taken from http://cias.rit.edu/faculty-staff/110
19	
  Post-reduction is a process where the fired pieces are placed

10

in a container filled with combustible material for reduction. In
the traditional Japanese process, the fired Raku piece isremoved from the hot kiln and is allowed to cool in the open
air. 	  

My experience in Japan elicited a deep interest in
exploring Japanese aesthetics. Although I was exposed tomany other Japanese traditional techniques, the aestheticof Raku and its tradition has always fascinated me. I
noticed that after 400 years of continuous practice inJapan, Raku has been given a variety of ‘meanings’ andinterpretations among contemporary artists/potters
especially when it has been transferred to the West. It is
one art form that, I believe, has not suffered in its revivalrather it has been strengthened.20 The strengthening ofRaku has involved beyond its technical context. To acertain extent, the spirit and philosophy of original Raku
has somehow influenced the way of thinking in makingof artworks by the contemporary artists/potters of nonJapanese and ultimately has become the main factor for
attracting towards an appreciation.

philosophy of wabi sabi. Zen practitioners incorporated asense of appreciation of these concepts and experiences
into their life and for some time into their work andteaching. 23 Tea masters of the Momoyama period
developed the simple custom of tea drinking into the tea
ceremony by synthesizing other artistic activities such asarchitecture, garden design, crafts, painting andcalligraphy, as well as through the cultivation of a religiophilosophical awareness transcending ordinary reality. 24
This emphasis on spirituality has continued to be felt inmany aspects of Japanese life and culture. It was this art
that inspired the appreciation of wabi sabi as an aesthetic.
The inspiration for wabi sabi metaphysical, spiritual, andmore principles came from ideas on simplicity,
naturalness, harmony with nature and the acceptance ofreality found within Zen, which is a philosophy thatdeveloped from Mahayana Buddhisme (Koren 1994).
According to Leonard Koren, one of the first author who
introduced the concept of wabi sabi to the West, wabi
sabi is essentially a nature-based aesthetic paradigm thatis central to Japanese culture (Koren 1994). It is a notionof beauty that is linked with the traditional Japanese tea
ceremony and also associated with Zen Buddhism.25 In
Zen , essential knowledge must be transmitted frommind to mind, and not spoken or written, because its
meaning would be both diminished and possibly be
misunderstood.26

For some time, I wondered how contemporary nonJapanese artists/potters actually respond to aesthetic
elements from foreign cultures. Having been brought up
in the multi cultural society in Malaysia, I have had toaccept and adapt to elements from other cultures. It is
important to understand the ‘meaning’ behind every
aesthetic element that is brought into our own culture.
Raku artwork has to be appreciated together with the‘spirit’ and philosophy that accompanies it.

1.2 Raku – The Spiritual Aesthetic
In this section I will discuss the concept of wabi sabi,
understood from the idea of spirit in aesthetic, while
attempting to define them along with Buddhist concept.
I consider these as the key elements that compose the“spiritual” meaning in Raku production. To do this I will
focus on perhaps the most important of Japanese
aesthetic concept – the wabi sabi; which consists of twowords; wabi a concept of beauty found in austerity andsimplicity; and sabi which also denotes a concept ofbeauty of antiquity. As defined in a most reliable
Japanese English dictionary, wabi is “taste for the simple
and quiet” and sabi is “patina” and “an antique look”.21

Zen principles of simplicity, naturalness, harmony withnature and the acceptance of Zen’s notion of reality, allfound within the philosophy of wabi sabi,
weresynthesized by the Japanese and fully realized within thecontext of the tea ceremony (Koren 1994). Koren
Suggests wabi sabi as the “most conspicuous andcharacteristic feature of what we think of as traditional
Japanese beauty”, comparing its importance in Japanese
aesthetics to the “Greek ideals of beauty and perfection in
the West”.27
Traditional beauty in Japanese culture is composed ofvarious experiences or states of beauty that range from‘lower levels’ with elaborate ornamentation and vivid
colour usage, to the ‘higher levels’ of a simple andWabi sabi is essentially a nature-based aesthetic paradigm
that is central to Japanese culture.22 (pg 9) It is a notionof beauty that is linked to the chanoyu or the tea
ceremony, and it is also associated with the Zen
Buddhism. The tea masters, priests and monks whopractised Zen were the first people in the Japanesetradition to became involved with the development of the

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
23

Maxwell, C. Wabi- Sabi: The Essentials of Japanese
Aesthetics. Omusubi, The Japan Foundation, Sydney.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
20

24

Christopher Tyler and Richard Hirsch, Raku, Techniques forContemporary Potters, (Watson-Guptill Publications), 1975,
pg 11.

Raku, K. (1997). "Raku: A Dynasty of Japanese Ceramists."
Ceramic: Art and Perception(22).
25

Koren, L. (1994). Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets &Philosophers. Berkeley Calfornia, Stone Bridge Press.

21

Masuda, K. (1974). New Japanse-English Dictionary. New
Japanse-English Dictionary. Tokyo, Kenkyusha Tokyo.

26

Ibid.

27

Ibid.

22

Koren, L. (1994). Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets &Philosophers. Berkeley Calfornia, Stone Bridge Press.
11subdued elegance that is known in Japanese as shibumi.28
The adjective form of the word shibumi, that is shibui, is abeauty that is represented by the notion of ‘less is more’.
This is a beauty that, in a simple word is characterized by
the greatly reserved, astringent, sober and quiet. 29 It isalso a beauty that is in harmony with nature and it has acalming effect on the viewer. When the highest state of
the whole beauty is achived, it becomes wabi-sabi.30

meant chill. In the 14th century the meaning evolved tomore positive connotations. According to De Mente(2006), wabi derived from the Japanese verb wabu andthe adjective is wabishii.35 (pg 33) Wabu literally meaning“to languish”, represents a feeling of loneliness and its
adjectival form, wabishii represents being lonely andcomfortless.36
According to De Mente, the notion of sabi is related to
aspects of the Japanese philosophy of Shinto pertaining
to the reverence of nature with its seasonal changes, andespecially within the weathering and aging process.37 (pg31) In comparison to wabi, sabi is more objective and it
generally refers to material things. Put simply, wabi sabi
can be understand as a way of thinking and living and it
is a state of being which needs to be felt, to be evokedrather than to be explained.

While a modern work of art is a finished result, wabi sabi
is incomplete and imperfect. We are forced to realizedthat it as a work in progress – not just a finished productfor us to look at, but something that we can engage inourselves. The concept of wabi sabi artwork often point
to this process. Koren writes “corrosion andcontamination make its expressive richer”.31
The art of wabi sabi is not flamboyant, colourful orspectacular but relatively quiet and assimilated into
nature or circumstance. The wabi aesthetic is charged
with philosophical and religious spiritual unique in thehistory of Japanese art. Central to the philosophy of wabi
cha are notions of ‘nothingness’ deriving from Zen
Buddhism and the ‘ isness’ of Taoism. 32 The notion
symbolized by the term ‘wabi’ lay at the heart of Japanese
medieval aesthetics and pervaded literary as well astheatrical fields such as waka (31 syllable poetry) renga(linked-verse poetry) and Noh theatre.33
Wabi sabi was systemized and established as an aestheticof Japan in the Meiji era (1868-1912) and the modern
period, the post Meiji era to the present.34 (pg 49) But
the word “wabi” and “sabi” first appeared in Heian period(794-1192) and had been used in Kamakura period(1192-1333) and the following period. Wabi sabi iscomposed of two words. “Wabi” originally meant themisery of living alone in nature and “Sabi” originally

Wabi sabi received its artistic and philosophic value in the
16th century when Rikyu established wabi cha, a tea
ceremony in a simple and austere manner. Rikyu did thewabi cha as the countermeasure to the trend of the tea
ceremony of the 16th century, which was sponsored by
the samurai lords and was completely tawdry. Since
Rikyu was deeply steeped in Zen Buddhisme, theostentatious and pretentious display of wealth by
Hideyoshi and his aristocratic vassals had always been
distasteful to him and was totally contrary to the wabi
concept of tea teaching. Wabi can also mean ‘poverty’,though in this context not lack of food or possession, but
state of mind that voluntarily accepts an austereexistence. According to Lester (2006), as meritorious wayof life, Rikyu advocated man’s return to and living inharmony with nature and finding beauty not in flawless“artificialities” but in the unpretentious, the inspired
spontaneity of imperfection.38 For Rikyu the refined tea
bowls and thrown to perfection on the potters wheel andtightly controlled glaze were inconsistent with theconcept of wabi. Instead, explained Lester, he envisioned
rustic shapes a man could cradle in his palms to relish thefeel of the weight, the undisguised marks left by the
potter, the texture of the fired clay and the sensous flowof the glaze.39 These ideas that were brought to life in

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
28

Crowley, J. S. (2001). Wabi Sabi Style. Salt Lake City,
Gibbs Smith.

29

Tierney, L. (1999). Wabi sabi: A new look at Japanesedesign. Layton, Utah, Gibbs Smith.

30

Crowley, J. S. (2001). Wabi Sabi Style. Salt Lake City,
Gibbs Smith.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  

	
  

31

35

Koren, L. (1994). Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets &Philosophers. Berkeley Calfornia, Stone Bridge Press.

De Mente, B. (2006). Elements of Japanese Design.
Vermont, Tuttle Publishing.

32

36

Raku, K. (1997). "Raku: A Dynasty of Japanese Ceramists."
Ceramic: Art and Perception(22).

Maxwell, C. Wabi- Sabi: The Essentials of Japanese
Aesthetics. Omusubi, The Japan Foundation, Sydney.

33

37

De Mente, B. (2006). Elements of Japanese Design.
Vermont, Tuttle Publishing.

Ibid.

	
  

34

Yoshimatsu, J. (2011). The art in the everyday: A spiritualjourney of aesthetic experience within Western and JapaneseContext. Teachers College. ProQuest Dissertations and Theses;
2011; ProQuest Dissertations & Theses (PQDT), Columbia
University. PhD.

38

Lester, G. (2006). "Raku The Beauty of Imperfection." Artsof Asia 21(4): 90-96.
39

12

Ibid.

Japanese sensibility." 41 Rhodes honoured the Raku
family and their genius for investing a simple object withan inner mystical spirit.

Raku tradition that played a very significant role in his
reform in the tea ceremony.
Apart from the concept of spirit/spiritual in theaesthetics that I have explained before, it is difficult toreally define the meaning of spirit/spiritual in traditional
Raku in Japan. Looking at its history, it is hard todescribe how the different generations of Raku family,
say Chojiro, Nonko, and Sanyu- understood the ‘spirit’ ofRaku. To overcome this dilemma, I would rely on thewritings of Raku Kichizaemon XV, the current head of
the Raku family, who has written extensively about his
perspective on the family tradition. Since he is themodern representative of his Raku family, his opinions
carry a great deal of weight and certainly the closest
things there is today to an “orthodox” Raku voice.

For more than 400 years the Raku family has preserved aunique ceramic tradition yet the issue of spirituality andartistic consciousness addressed by Chojiro are as valid as
ever. For Kichizaemon XV, this tradition has not been amatter of recycling traditional forms but a “process ofconstant reinvigoration and invention”. 42 For him
tradition is not simply something to be preserved andinherited but how we perceive the tradition andtraditional techniques. It is our viewpoint that
determines what we create and give rise within the realmof the traditional work to something completely new andfresh.43
The issues brought up by Raku Kichizaemon XV on theinheritance of tradition are important in understanding
not only Raku and the culture of tea in Japan, but as
Pitelka said, the “apprehension of cultural change andcontinuity across a broad temporal and geographic
spectrum”.44 It is not understatement to claim that theJapanese culture that includes Raku tradition has survived
by the bestowing of traditional technique through family
legacies. The lineage of Raku potters has remained
basically unbroken for fifteen generations since Chojiro.
Kichizaemon XV is seen on a transcendental path thatawakens not only his own creative energies but also
directly connects him with the cosmic essence of
Chojiro's chawan or tea bowl.45

Photo by Sergio Vox (Creative Commons)
For Raku Kichizaemon XV, no tea bowl could be madeother that with the same sort of clay and rock as hisancestor Chojiro had dug out of local beds 400 years ago.
The tea bowl also could only be formed by the pinch-pot
method, which Chojiro had evolved and it should not be
shaped other than as a simple functional bowl. The
criteria listed by Kichizaemon IV have made Raku
exclusively to be associated with the tea ceremony.
According to Kichizaemon XV, Chojiro was not satisfied
with the tea bowl as an “embodiment of simple anddirect expression” but elevated it into a “manifestation of
abstract spirituality”. 40 The concept of spiritual andartistic consciousness that was developed by Chojiro isstill relevant and valid in the contemporary world. The
piece is removed from the kiln while glowing hot has
been the significance characteristic of Raku wares all over
the world. The interaction of the technique and suchspirit led to the preserving of Raku tradition. The
admiration for the work of the Raku family is manifold.
The late potter and writer Daniel Rhodes, in his bookPottery Form, respectfully called Raku tea bowls"unassuming forms that represent the quintessence ofLike I have described earlier on, the aesthetics of a Raku
tea bowl is centered around the foundation of wabi andsabi. Wabi forms are quiet, simple, imperfect yet
absolutely suitable for their function and accordance withnature, while sabi represents the quality of mellowing
with age. To Kichizaemon IV, Raku bowls in their mostaesthetic sense, must be judged and ultimately appreciate
through use. The following aesthetic preferences arefound in Dickerson’s, A Raku Handbook.46

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
41

Rhodes, D.-. (1976). Pottery form, Radnor, Pa. : Chilton
Book Co.
42

Raku, K. (1997). "Raku: A Dynasty of Japanese Ceramists."
Ceramic: Art and Perception(22).
43

Ibid.

44

Pitelka, M. (2005). Handmade Culture, University of Hawaii
Press.
45

Yellin, R. (2005). Raku's Hand-Held Universes, Unseen Potsof Kamoda Shoji, & Kiln Firing by Mori Togaku. The Japan
Times. Tokyo, Japan.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  

46

40

Raku, K. (1997). "Raku: A Dynasty of Japanese Ceramists."
Ceramic: Art and Perception(22).
13

Dickerson, J. (1972). Raku Handbook- A Practical Approach
to The Ceramic art. London, Studio Vista.
	  A suitable tea bowl, or the chawan, should have thequality of keshiki, a slight dampness that remains during
and right after use. The material used to create chawan isporous and poor conductor of heat. Its slight roughnesszangurishita, produce a soft sensation to the touch. The
sound the chawan conducts is dull and natural due to its
crackle glaze and porous composition. Its form should
include slight irregularities that offer tactile and visual‘happening’. The visual aesthetic is a direct relationshipbetween what the chawan appears to be and what
qualities it actually has. It means if it appears heavy it
should be heavy. A chawan should feel comfortable whenheld in the palm of the hands and when tilted for
drinking. The undulating lip contains five to seven hills
or waves, known as gaku. A drinking point is placed
opposite the front of the chawan. The inside of the bowl
contains a spiral cha-damari, or tea pool representing thedepressions in rock that collect rainwater.
In Japanese ceramics particularly within the Raku
tradition, the idea of ‘spirit’ plays a crucial role inexplaining artistic beauty. The beauty of Raku work andtradition lies in its ‘spirit’. Raku should not be seen as
merely a ceramic technique that has been passed on for
more than 400 years. Beside the complex technical partsof Raku, it is important to underline that if technique is
not linked to an exact idea, or what Claudia Sugliano
terms as an ‘interior preparation’, it may appear
satisfactory but it will always remain superficial.47 In thiscontext I will explain the idea of ‘spirit’ on the basis ofJapanese aesthetics and review concepts of ‘spirit’ in theWestern context.

Photo by Pyromaniac (Creative Commons)
The intimate and spiritual aspect of the tradition of Raku
is the most complex. This aspect forces an intimacy with
the Raku tradition and its philosophy that lies in the Zen
culture and wabi sabi, “a lifesyle, an aesthetic ideal and away of thinking that covers every aspect of existence
itself”.48 The tea bowls created by Rikyu and Chojiro as acollaborative venture for the tea ceremony was designed
to suit the highly sophisticated spirit of wabi. It wasdeveloped on the two Zen aesthetic foundations of wabi
and sabi that has been explained in this chapter. The
hand-formed Raku bowl increases the potential for
sculpting and allows the spirit of the maker to express
through the finished work with particular directness andintimacy. Raku pottery is fired in such a way to leave theobject appearing irregular and rough, its colours simple
and muted, typically shades of brown and cream. The
glaze that is applied on Raku pottery fades and loses its
lustre over time and rather than attempting to retain thecolours and polished sheen of its initial firing, eventuallytransforms into an entirely new set of objects. The
elements of Raku pottery described above participate inboth irregularity and the simple beauty. In this, Raku
pottery and other utensils used in the tea ceremony
become expressive elements that draw the sensitivity ofthe participants heart thus inviting the participants tolook beyond the objects that they used in the tea

Photo by Will Travel (Creative Commons)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  

47

Sugliano, C. (2006). Raku by Fausto Gervasi. Ceramics
Technical. 23.

48

14

Ibid.

ceremony and towards an aesthetic that encapsulates theunlimited potential for an objective feeling to reveal.

Raku ware for the tea ceremony, first we have to look
into the concept of Wabi Sabi. However, in order to havethe appreciation on the concept of wabi sabi , one mayneed cognitive ability, open and flexible mind as well as
spiritual maturity.

The concept of wabi sabi is different from the Westernconcept of beauty that is/was always intended as
something ‘big’, ‘monumental’ and ‘long lasting’. Whileseen as a philosophy in the Western world, the conceptof aesthetic in Japan, in this scope, wabi sabi, is seen as anintegral part of daily life. Thus, the concept of wabi sabi
is a question of not seeking or pursuing the perfect ormaterialistic result but instead, the beauty ofimperfection and the balance to be found in theimperfection that lies behind it. Contemporary
artists/potters can create works with highly technicalquality, but they are not necesserilly understand its
fundamental and inexorable element, which is thespirituality.49 Raku encapsulates a centuries old traditionof spiritual and materiality, creativity and dexterity, rites
and customs.50

The beauty and aesthetic of ancient Raku were based onsymbolic reference to chanoyu. Chanoyu or the tea
ceremony was a reflection of the Zen philosophy andteaching of Rikyu. According to Okakura, the oldsixteenth century Raku tea bowl may be considered crude
to the Western people, but in the eyes of an earlyJapanese elites, the same bowl would be considered a rarework of art to be treasured through use and valued above
a large grant of land as a reward for victory.52
A full reference list for this paper can be found in the Table ofReferences section.

Raku wares invented by Chojiro reflect more directly thanany other kind of ceramics the ideals of Wabi cha, theform of tea ceremony based on the aesthetic of wabi
advocated by Rikyu.51 To understand the aesthetic of

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
49

Ibid.

50

Ibid.

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  

52

Kakuzo, O. (1964). The Book of Tea. New York, Dover
Publications.

51

Raku, K. (1997). "Raku: A Dynasty of Japanese Ceramists."
Ceramic: Art and Perception(22).
15

	
  

Ikebana to Contemporary Art: Rosalie
Gascoigne
SHOSO KUNINORI SHIMBO, MONASH UNIVERSITY, AUSTRALIA
contemporary art, Gascoigne’s work presents an important casestudy. While many critics agree that Ikebana played asignificant part in her training and development as a sculptor(North 1982; MacDonald 1998), there are some disagreements
about how much influence Ikebana had on her art work.

Ikebana in the Expanded Field
Since the Meiji Restoration (1868) Ikebana, the Japanese art offlower arrangement has experienced various transformations
with the influences of the Western art. The influence has been
so strong that the distinction between some current Ikebana
work and the broader arena of contemporary art has become
blurred (Singer 1994: 46). At the centre of the transformations
was the development of a free style Ikebana since 1920’s, which
went against the traditional design principles, sites andmaterial combinations. In advocating the free style Ikebana,the modern and postmodern Ikebana artists have had to deal
with two specific issues.

If her temporary immersion in the modern Sogetsu school of
Ikebana was profoundly influential as her only art training, itsuggests that her vision has a direct source in theprinciplesof this meditative discipline, since in it the process of selection
is as fundamental and as spiritually charged as that ofcontemplation and arrangement. (Edwards 1998, 11)
Although Edwards (1998) suggested the general andconditional influence of Ikebana as above, Gellatly (2008)
pointed out, following Gascoigne’s comments on Ikebana,more specific aspects that Ikebana provided her with:

The one is related to seeing an Ikebana work as a three
dimensional art form, which ultimately stimulated theinvestigation of Ikebana as installation. Hiroshi Teshigahara(1927 - 2001) was one of the artists who investigated this
aspect of Ikebana. The other concern involves the fact that
Ikebana artists now have to rely on their inner sense toorganize their forms. This process has become similar to thelarger processes of assemblage. This direction was explored in
an extreme form by Rosalie Gascoigne (1917-1999). In thiscontext the significance of Gascoigne’s work lies not only incontemporary art but also in contemporary Ikebana.

i.
ii.
iii.
iv.

a sense of discipline
the importance upon line and form (overcolour)a sense of order and strong sculpturalproperties
an affinity to its immersion in and responseto the natural world

More importantly, it is notable that many critics as well as
Gascoigne herself regarded Ikebana as a passing point in her
career. They seem to agree that she graduated from “thelimited realm of flower arrangement and Ikebana” (Kirker
1989, 54) to enter the larger art world. Jacobs (2006) notedthat Gascoigne began to chafe at the restrictions of form in
Ikebana, quoting the following comment.
I knew I had the awareness of nature that is inherent inikebana. My eye was starting totravel — I was using foundobjects in my work. I made a piece out of blue devil weed
and rusted reinforcing wire, but when it was exhibitedit had been sprayed black. That was
all wrong to me —as I’d made it, I spoke of the sun and wind and rain. Finally,
there
were more things that I wanted to explore about theAustralian countryside than I could
say with ikebana.
It also troubled me that it was a foreign art. I thought that wastoolimiting. My work was becoming very Australian.

Gascoigne and Ikebana

Similar perceptions of Ikebana by Gascoigne were also pointed
out by MacDonald (1998), Kirker (1989) and Gellatly (2008).
MacDonald noted that Gascoigne found Ikebana limiting at a
certain stage, quoting her comment, “It was going so far, but
not far enough; the thing that I wanted to say was out in the
middle of the grasslands” (1989, 21). Gellatly stated that
Gascoigne eventually became disillusioned “with its

The Australian artist, Rosalie Gascoigne was not known as asculptor until 1975, when she was aged 58. However, she waswell known in Canberra for her floral skills which were further
refined through her study of Ikebana between 1962 and 1970.
In the investigation of connections between Ikebana and16hierarchical approach and deference to ‘all things Japanese,’particularly with regard to the selection and use of materials”(2008, 11).

exhibition he curated at the New York Museum of Modern
Art in 1961.

i. They are predominantly assembled rather thanIt has to be noted, however, that the dissatisfaction Gascoigne
experienced with Ikebana was historically and culturally
specific. Gascoigne’s Ikebana teacher was Norman Sparnon(1913 - 1995), who was regarded as the best-qualified andleading master of Ikebana in the Western world (MacDonald
1998). It is thought to be Sparnon who sprayed Gascoigne’s
work black at the Ikebana exhibition. Sparnon started teaching
Ikebana in Sydney in 1960 and Gascoigne became his student
in 1962. Sparnon’s attitudes to Ikebana at that time might havebeen limited in terms of the contemporary definitions of
Ikebana, which have been extended by more recent Ikebana
artists including Hiroshi Teshigahara. However judging fromsome of his last Ikebana works in 1990s’ (Fig. 1), Sparnon wasaware of the expanding nature of Ikebana and he contributed
to such a trend rather than preserving the traditional forms of
Ikebana.

ii.

painted, drawn, modeled, or carved.
Entirely or in part, their constituent elements are
preformed natural or manufactured materials, objects,
or fragments not intended as art materials (Seitz
1961, 6).

Another simple definition is given by Waldman (1992). Whilecollage involves “the pasting together of various materials on aflat surface,” assemblage involves “the process of joining twoand three-dimensional organic or prefabricated materials thatproject out from the surface plane” (Waldman 1992, 8).
Obviously one of the most important concerns is what happens
when two conflicting items are juxtaposed in a work ofassemblage. These technical definitions, however, do notprovide us with sufficient insights into those crucial issues ofassemblage as art work. Focusing on how collage can produce
meanings, Waldman (1992) pointed out that collage makes it
possible to layer into a work of art several levels of meaning:“the original identity of the fragment or objects and all of thehistory it brings with it; the new meaning it gains inassociation with other objects or elements; and the meaning it
acquires as the result of its metamorphosis into a new entity”(Waldman 1992, 11).

Despite Gascoigne’s departure from Ikebana, some critics havenoted that there is a certain Japanese taste in her art work
(Eagle 2007; MacDonald 1998). There might have been somelasting influence of Ikebana throughout her aesthetic
development.
Gascoigne’s art practice moved through several phases: ironassemblages (1964 - 74), bone works (1971 - 72), boxed works(early 1970s’ - early 1980s’), and assemblages using segmented
found objects (since early 1980s). It is the last category of her
works that are often pointed out as containing references to
Ikebana or Japanese aesthetics. Gascoigne’s earlier assemblages
were made of recognizable objects that retain their associations
with their earlier lives including Australian icons (beer cans,
dolls, etc.). Since 1984, however, she started to use drink-crate
wood, road signs and building materials. Generally pictorial
imagery ceased in these late works and Gascoigne described
her shift as a switch from “things to materials” (MacDonald
1998, 32).

Based on the three levels specified by Waldman, Gascoigne’s
works will be looked at to analyze how found materials gained
context and became fine art objects. As the following
discussion reveals, however, it is impossible to discuss theselayers separately. When we focus on one layer, our discussion
often involves other layers at the same time. Therefore, thedistinction of the three layers is tentative in nature.

Photo by Mal Booth (Creative Commons)

Photo by Simon (Creative Commons)

Assemblage

The First Layer: The Original Identity of
the Fragments

Before further looking into the assemblage works by
Gascoigne, it is necessary to clarify the general nature ofassemblage. Seitz (1961) pointed out a couple of simple
characteristics of the collages, objects and constructions thatcomprised his book, “The Art of Assemblage” and the

One aspect of Gascoigne’s assemblages as well as in generalarts and science involves the systematic division of a subject
into units. Breaking down of material into units has the effectof “reconfiguring older relations of subject and object, time and17place, inspiration from inside and refraction from outside”(Eagle 2007, 201). In this process, new poetic conjectures weresought.
In addition, Edward precisely described Gascoigne’s process of
slicing, tearing and sawing material into almost identical units
as “a means of intensifying a quality or an essence, ofreferencing the recurring rhythms of nature, of creating newform” (Edward 1998, 13).

(1975)(Fig. 3). It combined painted wood and corrugated iron.
The weathered iron was transformed into a curtain attached to
the window frame. The blown curtain evokes a strong drying
wind due to the red surface and rough edges forcefully cut off.
The work suggests the harsh natural environment of theAustralian countryside.
Piece to walk around (1981) (Fig. 4), Crop 2 (1982) (Fig. 5),
Turn of the tide (1983) (Fig. 6) and Red beach (1984) (Fig. 7)
are situated in her transition from “things to materials.” These
works, in essence, all consist of massed natural materials andgeometrical grid like forms. The contrast is closely related tothe major characteristics of her assemblages including orderand randomness (Gellatly 2008, 20) and massing andrepetition (Gellatly 2008, 15).

Interestingly, this aspect of assemblage resembles Hiroshi
Teshigahara’s creative processing of natural materials, inparticular bamboo. He noted that the initial breaking down ofbamboo was to remove its familiar notions and to gain its
essence. The divided units are free from their old meanings
and contexts and so can be more easily assembled into new
configurations.

In Turn of the tide (1983) (Fig. 6) and Red beach (1984) (Fig.
7), she used shells that she had found. Almost identical organic
segments were gathered and arranged in a grid or near gridformat. In both works, Gascoigne created empty spaces andframe-like lines outside the rectangular forms consisting of themassed shells, suggesting the significance of the contrast
between newly emerged patterns on the shells and weatheredgeometrical orders. In Turn of the tide (1983) putting theshells together in the grid structure makes clear the subtle
differences between them. The random pattern on the surfaceof the shells, when seen together, looks like a part of a larger
whole. This may be Gascoigne’s interpretation of the Ikebana
concept of a second nature, a purified or idealized
representation of nature using natural materials.

Another aspect of Gascoigne’s works that requires special
attention is that from early in her career she preferred using
weathered materials such as wooden boxes rather than freshmaterials. Materials lose their original color and their usage
over time. When they became obsolete, they were matured andwere ready for Gascoigne’s creative process. Her preference foraged materials can be seen as similar to the Japanese aestheticsof Wabi. It is one of the most important aesthetic principles inJapanese culture, but its characteristics have developed andchanged throughout history. Consequently, it is not easy todefine it concisely. In relation to Gascoigne’s works, however,
it would be beneficial to look at the most influential notion of
Wabi proposed by the greatest tea master, Rikyu (1522 1591), who developed it under the influence of Zen Buddhism
and incorporated it into the tea ceremony.

Her assemblages after this period gained greater abstract
strength. Grid or geometrical compositions were frequently
used, and Gascoigne started to work with segmented
weathered materials instead of natural materials. Due to theirweathered nature, however, those materials reveal their sense ofpassing time, in this way Gascoigne treated weathered objects
as if they were natural materials. The contrast between organic
disorder and artificial order that was apparent in her
assemblages in early 1980s became the most profound theme
in Gascoigne’s works.

Haga (1995) pointed out three characteristics of Wabi as
simple, unpretentious beauty, imperfect, irregular beauty andaustere, stark beauty. He argues that these three characteristics
mutually blended to create a single aesthetic sensibility.
Regarding Rikyu’s idea of Wabi, Haga concludes as follow:
Rikyu’s wabi, viewed externally, is impoverished, cold,
and withered. At the same time, internally, it has abeauty, which brims with vitality. While it may appear tobe the faded beauty of the passive recluse, or the remnant
beauty of old age, it has within it the beauty of non-being,latent with unlimited energy and change. (Haga 1995,
250)

The Third Layer: As the Result ofMetamorphosis
The other aspect of Gascoigne’s works that needs to be
discussed is that of unexpected associations. Eagle referred to
the fact that for the Cubists, Futurists, Dadaists and others,
collage and assemblage were devices for disrupting the logic ofpicture making (2007, 201). It is this aspect of assemblage orcollage that fascinated Picasso. He used the fragments ofcollage paradoxically, turning one substance into another andextracting unexpected meaning out of forms by combining
them in new ways (Golding 1994, 63). Golding quoted thefollowing comment by Picasso regarding collage.

Wabi sensibility allows viewers to recognize aesthetic qualities
beyond the weathered surface of objects. Gascoigne’s lateworks such as Earth (1999) consist of segments of suchmaterials (Fig. 2). Each segment potentially has not only theexternal but also, beyond surface, the internal aspects of Wabi.
This effect seems to be further emphasized by her
compositions, which will be looked into in the following
sections.

The Second Layer: In Association with
Other Materials

If a piece of newspaper can become a bottle that gives us
something to think about in connection with both newspapers
and bottles, too. This displaced object has entered a universe
for which it was not made and where it retains, in a measure,its strangeness. And this strangeness was what we wanted tomake people think about because we were quite
aware that

A fragment within an assemblage work gains new meaning inassociation with other objects or elements in the work. This
aspect of assemblage was well exemplified in one of
Gascoigne’s earlier assemblage works, Pink window
18

our world was becoming very strange and not exactly
reassuring (Gilot and Carlton, 1965, 70).

Red beach, 1984, Fig. 6 and 7) and demonstrate a deeper
understanding of the grid.

Also, Eagle (2007) in discussing the third layer of assemblagerefers to Saussure’s dualistic analysis of signs. Saussure statesthat the linguistic sign unites, not a thing and a name, but aconcept and a sound-image (1959, 66). Then, he replaced
concept and sound-image respectively by signified andsignifier. By this renaming he was able to clearly indicate theopposition that separates them from each other and from thewhole (sign) of which they are parts. What appears to happen
in assemblage is that a signifier is transposed from its originalcontext to another but still retains its original features. Eagle
describes a feature of Gascoigne’s assemblages as ‘the jostling
together of displaced signifiers” (2007).

Party piece (1988) (Fig. 10), for instance, consists of about
fourteen square or rectangular units, many of which containsome recognizable parts of letters. Each segment has adifferent visual weight and strength, although their colors are
unified, yellow and black. When they are united into a single
piece of work, however, there is a kind of dynamic harmonythat emerges out of such chaotic unbalance.
Assuming that this harmony, which is the manifestation ofwhat Edward called “will to order” (1998, 13), is similar to theharmony that contemporary Ikebana artists often seek throughusing several different flower materials, it is worth considering
how it is actualized in the art work. Although we have alreadynoted the affinity between assemblage and Ikebana, there
might be more fundamental similarities between them in
Gascoigne’s works.

It is in this aspect that both Lipsey (1988) and O’Brien (2004)
recognized the affinity between assemblage and Ikebana.
Noting that Gascoigne made a number of collages between
1972 and 74, O’Brien (2004) sees the significance of theassociation between assemblage and Ikebana. Her collage
works can be located between her Ikebana study and her
assemblages.

The harmony in Gascoigne’s assemblages seems to be heavily
dependent on the function of the grid. It functions not just as acontrast to the haphazardness that segmented units bring, butalso as an allusion for more profound contradictions. Krauss
argued the mythic power of the grid that could deal with andrepress a contradiction between the values of science and thoseof spiritualism (1985, 13).

Collage is a Western ikebana, an art of arrangement, and like
Japanese flower arrangement its aesthetic impact can go far
beyond the separate impacts of the materials it employs (Lipsey
1988, 358).

In the cultist space of modern art, the grid serves not only asemblem but also as myth. For like all myths, it deals withparadox or contradiction not by dissolving the paradox or
resolving the contradiction, but by covering them over so thatthey seem (but only seem)to go away. The grid’s
mythic power is that it makes us able to think we are dealing
with materialism (or sometimes science, or logic) while at thesame time it provides us with arelease into belief (orillusion, or fiction). (Krauss 1985)

Ikebana generally consists of various plant materials anddisplay containers to hold them. Modern Ikebana artists suchas Sofu Teshigahara (1900 - 79) started to incorporate artificial
materials such as metal and paper into Ikebana (Fig. 8). He
also made Ikebana works without containers or with containers
hidden from the viewers’ gaze. Combinations of different typesof natural materials as well as combinations of natural andartificial materials, including their containers, can be seen as
juxtapositions of displaced objects, or as assemblages. Further,regarding a flower for Ikebana as a displaced object played an
important role for some contemporary Ikebana artists indeveloping their practices. In particular, Hiroshi Teshigaharaemphasized the difference between a cut flower in Ikebana anda flower in the field, as a part of nature (Teshigahara, 1992).
That difference is similar to that between a piece of newspaper
in a collage and newspapers.

If it is possible to see something similar to the grid in Ikebana,which was defined as the symbolic representation of nature in
the 16th century (Shimbo 2013), it would be certain guiding
principles including the basic golden ratio. For instance, thethree main branches used to form a basic style are set in theratio of 7: 5: 3. The Sogetsu School starts teaching beginners
with these principles. Following these principles, Ikebana
artists seek to actualize in their works an internally perceived
natural harmony or sense of order. Like the grid, theseprinciples would have a mythic function to symbolically deal
with contradictions, in this case, between the transient natural
materials and the permanent, the order of nature.

The Grid in Gascoigne

As to Gascoigne’s last series of works, Earth (1999) (Fig. 2),
Gellatly noted the contrast between deviations (the scratches,accretions, pockmarks, wood grain and nail holes) and their
grounds (rough-hewn, irregular grids), and interpreted eachdeviation as “a meditative reflection of an artist in possession of
an innate knowledge of the country in which she travelled andfossicked, developed over a period of some fifty years” (2008,23). Considering the potential function of the grid,
Gascoigne’s meditative reflections in this work may have
involved an awareness of more fundamental contradictions ofbeing and the order of universe. It is, for Edward, thecontradiction between ephemeral and permanent.

Gascoigne’s works such as Flash art (1987) (Fig. 9) and Party
piece (1988) (Fig. 10) reveal strong contrasts between the orderof the grid and the disorder of the found and processedmaterials, the segmented reflective traffic signs. Eagle relates
the contrast to the aesthetic impact of Gascoigne’s works,
stating, “an underlying grid or cell-like structure serves as aground for deviations” (Eagle 2007).
It is notable, however, that the deviations in these works using
letters or words are so much greater than her previous works
using natural materials such as shells (e.g. Turn of tide, 1983;
19

In her ‘will to order’ she uses the techniques of accentuation,
compression, and repetition (the process of mass production
and of nature) with an almost unerring eye, to draw out theallusive potential of materials. The process is one of exactitude,of refining and distilling both ephemeral experience andactively decaying material, into an essential permanent form,
which Gascoigne has described in terms of an aesthetic ‘repossession’ of the land. (Edward 1998)

Conclusion
Through indirect collaboration with nature, Rosalie Gascoigne
pursued its essence symbolically in her works. Although the
influence of Ikebana on Gascoigne’s works is generally
regarded as limited, this study suggests that it is crucial for her
artwork. Unlike factors such as perspective that Monet andother impressionists learned from Japanese prints (Spate 2001),
the sense of order that she inherited from Ikebana is harder torecognize. Seeking an order in her works, Gascoigne
investigated the mythic function of grids that could deal withthe contradiction between ephemeral and permanent. This
attitude is parallel to that of modern Ikebana artists seeking
harmony in their free style works through challenging the
restrictions of traditional rules.

It is evident that Gascoigne inherited some qualities from
Ikebana particularly in her attitudes toward segmented foundobjects, which she treated as quasi-organic materials. Eagle
makes this point powerfully.
The weight Gascoigne gave to the found materials was
uncharacteristic of Western art. She found the endorsement
she needed in ikebana. Japanese art (including ikebana)featured strongly in exhibitions and art reviews inAustralia in the 1960s’ and influenced anumber of artists,though Gascoigne was, I think, the only one for whom
Japanese art was the gateway to her own art. She studied the
Sogetsu school of ikebana for its formal grammar, after she
recognized an appreciation of the visual and a sustained qualityof metaphor that were congruent with her own deeply felt
delight. (Eagle 2007)
The visual and sustained metaphor Gascoigne recognized in
Ikebana places her assemblages at an extreme end of the
expanded field of contemporary Ikebana.

While Gascoigne’s works reveal that some common attitudes
exist between the current practice of Ikebana andcontemporary art, in terms of a historical perspective of
Ikebana it can be seen as extreme example of the investigationof contemporary Ikebana as assemblage. In addition, her work
can be regarded as a unique example of cross-culturaltransformation.
Full references for this article can be found in the Table ofReferences section.

Photo by Twofortokyo (Creative Commons)20

Imagined Innocence Lost: The
Performance of Post-Indigeneity in Eikoh
Hosoe and Tatsumi Hijikata’s Kamaitachi
MICHAEL SAKAMOTO, GODDARD COLLEGE, UNITED STATES
new mode of expressing matter and spirit, butoh wasborn as a postwar dance form, artistic movement,
philosophy, and cultural opposition to the mainstreamsocial order. While developed in numerous forms overthe decades, most butoh-based training in some way
works to disengage the body from oppressive ordomesticatedbehavior
throughdeconstructing
movement, speech, thought, and action. Image-based
exercises are designed to literally “break” such patterns,
offer a wider view on human nature, and empower
practitioners to embody vulnerable, practically “disabled” versions of themselves in order to reclaim theiridentities in a process of cyclical self-destruction andreintegration.
For audiences, these transformed,“broken” beings serve as partially readable signs ofsocialization, assembled from damaged codes andpresented
asdisturbing,semi-unconsumablecommodities, yet somehow remaining knowable andhuman.

Preface
We live in an age where mass media has overwhelmed
our daily lives. Beyond the broadcast saturation andpackaged, audio-visual experiences of the late 20th
Century, dominant ideologies constantly invade our very
bodies through socio-economic dependence on personalcommunication and computing devices. The postindustrial, service-oriented, commodified body literally
consumes its virtual self. We are eating our “selves” alive.

But where do the forms, the structures, the inspirations,for such signs and codes, for such selves, come from?
Throughout the history of butoh, repeated references
have been made to life, death, innate memory, primal
states of being, and spirits. People have also taken
photographs. A lot of them! So many, in fact, that it’salmost impossible to think of butoh without the way it’s
been visually imagined, captured, and expressed. In my
experience, I find that photo-representation is one of themost common yet least-discussed influences on butoh
practice, specifically how early butoh photo-imagery has
contributed to the comprehension, definition, andperceived legitimacy of butoh-based practices.
With this in mind, lets take a flashback to the beginning.
My beginning…
(Creative Commons)

Kinokuniya Bookstore, Downtown Los Angeles. Fall 1991

It is for this reason that, for me, butoh performance is anattempt to save lives. It is a legislative bill put forward ina congress of mind, body, and spirit. It is a call to arms
against our “selves,” the ones that we are not.

All I can think is that this man is in pain. There’s a large
book in my hands with a cover photo that I don’t understand.
An old Japanese man holds a flower, twisted and bent, petals
shriveled. His arms and hands curl inward to his concave
chest. His shoulder droops low, withering. Twisted,asymmetrical, near to chaos, his body struggles to stay upright.
Patchy white makeup covers every inch of his body, as if lived

Created a half-century ago by Hijikata Tatsumi with theaid of Ohno Kazuo, two modern dancers searching for a21

of studium and punctum. Studium is the effect of a photobased on its generalizable criteria, references within its
place and time, and its supposed facts on cultural,political, aesthetic, or otherwise objective levels.
Moreover, because the studium is external, it imposes
itself upon us: “The Photograph is violent: not because itshows violent things, but because on each occasion it fills
the sight by force, and because in it nothing can be refusedor transformed.” (Barthes 1981: 91)

in too long. Bright red lipstick and yellowed teeth, mouth
only half-open but somehow feeling agape, as if he hassomething to say, but instead of coming out through his
tongue, the words are oozing, bleeding through pores all over
his body.
Over the eyelids, smears of sky blue, desperate for attention,
not rooted in attraction, but rather in pity, a long-lost desire
to be someone’s queen for a day, or an hour, a minute even, an
inexorable slide into decay. And those eyes! Surrounded bypure black, thick and messy streaks trailing off to the side,
simultaneously hopeful and despairing. He’s looking upward,
longing, resigned, saintly.

Punctum, however, arises out of the workings of ourimagination:
Nothing surprising, then, if sometimes, despite
its clarity, the punctum should be revealed only
after the fact, when the photograph is no longer
in front of me and I think back on it. I may
know better a photograph I remember than aphotograph I am looking at, as if direct visionoriented its language wrongly, engaging it in aneffort of description which will always miss its
point of effect, the punctum. (Barthes 1981: 53)

It’s obvious. He’s dying. You’re not supposed to watch thiskind of thing happening. I can’t keep my eyes off of him.
Other customers in the store are beginning to stare at me
staring at this book. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful…
That’s what I felt, then. I look at this photo now, and I
notice how staged it is. The curve of the flower petals,
perfectly matching the arc of the lips, the fall of the hair,and the center point in the frame. No tension in thelarge hands. The dancer’s pose seems static, as if tailoredand held for the camera. There is still, however, that
expression.

Punctum relies on an image working within one’s self
over time as a template within memory upon which one
may reflect desires, anxieties, or other emotions. Thispotential for particular effects within particular viewers
makes it idiosyncratic and subjective.

Ohno Kazuo sees something. Heaven or God, since heis a devout Christian, opening wide to take in the breathof angels? Or maybe a ghost, a lost or kindred soul thatfills him with childlike awe and aged exhaustion. Even
after 20 years, I feel a liminal space opening up every
time I see this photo. Ohno appears to me intimidated
by and anxious for what comes next, and its effect isvisceral even now, just as it was when I first stood staring
at it in that bookstore. For me, the photo itself engenders
a sense of liminality. I look at it and have no idea whatjust happened or what is about to happen.

While ostensibly a meditation on photography’s meaning
and function, Camera Lucida is ultimately driven by
Barthes’s nostalgia, loss, and pain around the death of his
mother, making the text an intricately reasoned anddeeply sorrowful exploration of subjective truth as a way todeal with objective reality.
Within the context of the prevalence of subjective formsof expression in the postwar Japanese avant-garde, asimilar tension arose in the formative years of butoh.
The first butoh artists are like the early jazz artists; they
had something to reclaim and a struggle worth fighting
because they had been handed a false liberty. In the
midst of Japan’s rapid postwar westernization, thisreclamation took the form of retooling and reinvention of
the body itself. Hijikata led an archaeological expedition
to excavate and salvage a damaged, broken, dying, yetstill breathing, pre-modern, nativist body and then turn it
into something that, in reality, it already was – a myth.

The image could also be simply a stimulating
composition that the photographer, Ethan Hoffman,
artfully captured, an instant when cosmic vision was
activated in glass, metal, and silver halides.
In
considering whether a photo is acting upon us or we areacting upon it, we might remember that among the first
photographers in history were the competing desires toeither frame or depict reality. Passive or active? After
172 years, we assume it’s a conscious decision made by
every photographer, but, in reality, it’s a existential
question that may never be resolved, just as after threemillennia, most God-fearing worshippers have neverreached consensus on whether to live their lives
submitting to God’s will or doing his bidding.

Kinjiki, Hijikata’s now-legendary, sexually violent, duet
performance with Ohno Yoshito, the declaration of
independence and forbidden fruit of the butoh
movement, premiered in 1959. 1 Legendary not because it

This supposed binary between passive and active in any
engagement with photography is at the core of Roland
Barthes’s final text, Camera Lucida, in which he defines
the experience of viewing a photo in terms of the binary

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
1

22

Titled after the Mishima novel of the same name, Kinjikifeatured a teenage male dancer (Yoshito Ohno, 14 year-old sonof Butoh co-founder, Kazuo Ohno) virtually strangling awas scandalous. Scandal doesn’t reserve a place for you in
the pantheon; it only means you exist. To become alegend, it takes settling into a collective imaginary thatthe members of that collective sooner or later take for
granted. It takes myth.
Notorious for proferring contradictory evidence about
himself, Hijikata spent most of his adult life spinning atale that fed his public persona.2 In the decade following
Kinjiki, he became either who he wanted to be or needed
to be, what others wanted from him, or, perhaps, all of
the above. Hijkata and other trickster figures of theperiod, such as Terayama, Dylan, or Warhol, spent thelate 1950s through mid-1960s dissecting and rejecting
the totalizing authority of their late modernist forefathers
and were finally forced to make a positive statement, toactually say something, by the late 1960s, when, after
exploding onto their respective scenes, they took turns
imploding within a scene of their own making.
(Creative Commons)

Of course, looking back, to a time when I was barelyborn in a culture once removed and a country an ocean
away, is like staring into a magic lantern, or straining
your ear to a broken harmonium, devices forcommunicating with the beyond to find out where andhow the past and future live in the here and now. But
you can only perceive faded colors or faint whispers. In
other words, You weren’t there, Michael. How could you
possibly know what you’re talking about? I don’t. That’s
the point.3

Kamaitachi

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
chicken between his legs and another adult dancer (Hijikata)attempting to molest him.

2

Some stories are told in a line, but myths are spun, i.e.
eternally generated and transformed in a circular process,with no beginning or end point, no highs or lows, noinherent hierarchy. Such stories are also in constant selfreflexive dialogue, turning in on themselves at every
moment, but with an unchanging radius, each at a
uniform distance from itself, never any further or closer,
so never hiding but never revealing, always simply what
it is, has been, and will be.
3”Have you ever dreamed of a place...you don't really
recall ever having been to...a place that probably doesn't
even exist except in your imagination...somewhere far
away, half-remembered when you wake up...but when
you were there you spoke the language, you knew yourway around... That was the 60's. No, it wasn’t. Wasn’t
either. It was ’66…early ’67. That was all.” - Peter
Fonda in the film, The Limey (1998), written by Lem
Dobbs and directed by Stephen Soderbergh
Though I was adopted in 1968, I was born in
1967, which means my birth parents conceived me in
Fall 1966 as living proof of this thesis. I was born in theSummer of Love but after the love had already movedon.

On numerous occasions between 1965 and 1968, twomen made their way from Tokyo to the cold, windswept
farm plains of the Tohoku region of northern Japan
armed with a 35mm Nikon F and black-and-white
Kodak film, distant childhood memories, and a vast,
improvisational
facilityforinvoking
searing,
subconscious imagery. One was Hosoe Eikoh, a young
photographer freshly minted into the upper echelon ofcontemporary visual arts after a now legendary photobook collaboration with novelist Mishima Yukio, in
which the latter was literally wrapped, laid, lifted, andenthralled within a gorgeous and deathly fantasy world
sprung from Hosoe’s mind and Mishima’s soul. 4 The
other was Hijikata, who, in 1959, had resigned in protest
from Japan’s National Dance Association after the uproar
surrounding Kinjiki, and had begun to stake out a career
expressly independent of mainstream legitimacy.
The resulting photo essay came to be called Kamaitachi(Sickle-Weasel), after a mythical, invisible beast that hid
in wind flurries and attacked unsuspecting passersby onlone roads, cutting and quickly sealing them up before
bleeding, so that the injury and pain lay underneath,
mysteriously fomenting, agitating, and eating away fromwithin. Since their first exhibition and publication in thelate 1960s, the photos have become iconic in art history
and served to further shape the careers of bothcollaborators.
But how is Kamaitachi, in Hosoe’s words, a “subjective
documentary?”
How was a sense of both men’schildhoods in Tohoku mined and reconstructed in orderto create a contemporary, visual-performative expression

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
4

23

The photo essay was entitled, Barakei (Ordeal by Roses), andoriginally published in book form by Shueisha in 1963.

of folk mythology that also resulted in propagating an
iconic mythology around Hijikata himself? What might
we say the photos actually show us? Do the photos
themselves possess immanence or does such a quality
reside in the eye of beholder?

new modern Japanese identity, rooted as it was in the
façade and trappings of social commodification and lateModernist individualism. Hijikata came to an upending
ethos, what is dark, grotesque, and death-like (i.e. what is
rejected and marginalized by a psychically-compromisedsociety) is actually beautiful and full of life.6 Among a
new breed of Japanese photographers dedicated topersonalized images, Hosoe also found his aesthetic voicein stark contrasts of light and dark, especially after
witnessing Hijikata’s Kinjiki premiere, whereupon thetwo men became collaborators and lifelong friends. Bothartists delved into the alienation of late capitalism, Hosoe
by forging a visceral style of tenuous self-identity poised
between tradition, modernity, and fetishization of thebody,7 and Hijikata by reveling, vaccine-like, in its tragic
schizophrenia as a form of ritualized affliction and cure.

Looking at the images, we see over three dozen
monochrome photos 5 of Hijikata in various states of
embodiment and action. The first handful are in an
urban setting, and then, except for a short foray into a
photo studio, the images move to an unnamed series ofrural villages and farmlands. In all the photos, Hijikata’s
character lies within the full continuum of the gaze. In
interaction with both villagers and city-dwellers, he isalternately depicted as watching, watched, and in implicit
observational (“othering”) competition with those aroundhim. He is inspected, mocked, kowtowed to, embraced,mourned. He threatens, lurks, ingratiates, seduces,molests, flees, attacks, struggles. He flares devil horns in
broad daylight. He hibernates like a hidden demon, or
incipient plague, on a shelf in an old barn. He marries a
farmgirl child and initiates her eroticism in a field ofzinnias. He chases another bride – older, fat, toothless,drunk – who matches his maddened state, step bydisjunctive step. He repeatedly flies through the air, thepanels of his kimono flaring in every direction, as if
transformed into chaos itself. In one of the final images,
he careens through a rice paddy with a screaming baby inone arm, the other outstretched, as if clawing the very airthat constitutes and conceals his uncontrollable,
unnamable nature.

Hijikata, especially, plied the murky waters on society’s
fringes to find a working method and ready source ofmaterial, coming of age through both avant-garde dance
and a marginalized economic subculture, working
variously as a longshoreman, junk dealer, and other lowly
vocations. Unlike Hosoe, Hijikata had only moved toTokyo full-time in 1952, when he was 24 years old. At
this point, his lack of high-level training andasymmetrical physique (one leg was shorter than theother) prevented him from obtaining the career inmainstream modern dance that he aspired to, thus
driving him to turn inward and forge new aesthetic
criteria. (Kurihara 1996: 17-18) In his early career, he
did not publicly consider his rural background as
inspiration.
In published statements, his surrealreferences were more urban, anti-capitalist, and criminal:

Born in the north, but growing up in Tokyo and only
living in the countryside for one year as a 12 year-old
evacuee during the Tokyo firebombings of 1944-1945,
Hosoe recalled, “I liked the landscapes… but I hated thecountry itself…children playing around the corner would
watch me with old, cold eyes…we from the city werethin from hunger. Their laughing expressions wereawful…The dark, snowy country seemed to be full of
ghosts.” (cited in Viala/Masson-Sekine 1988: 191) His
impetus for the project was also quite personal:

Eyes intervene in the current generation whosesoul too is unable to live merely through thesuccession of property. I eventually arrive at mymaterial by carefully walking around Tokyo
where the generation whose hands made eyes has
not altogether died out. (Hijikata 2000: 41)
My dance…is behavior that explicitly flaunts its
aimlessness in the face of a production-oriented
society. (Hijikata 2000: 44)
I wager reality on a nonsensical vitality that has
purged the echo of logic from my body and I
dream of the day when I am sent to prison.
(Hijikata 2000: 45)“I had the strange feeling…that I should not hatethe land where my mother was born. If I hated
it, I would hate my own mother. Kamaitachi,then, is a very personal record of my own
memory from boyhood, with all the complex
feelings of love and hate from those days in the
countryside.” (cited in Viala/Masson-Sekine
1988: 192)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
6

Starting in the late 50s, both Hosoe and Hijikata hadjoined in the avant-garde zeitgeist of questioning their

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
5

In 2009, Aperture produced a new trade edition in book form
with an additional eight photos never before published. Eikoh
Hosoe, Kamaitachi (New York: Aperture Foundation, 2009).

24

Jean Genet was Hijikata’s favorite writer: “Genet, rejected bysociety, affirms himself as he is, rejecting society in turn, andconstructing his own paradoxical ethos (see Genet [1949]1964). This paradoxical conversion became Hijikata’s guiding
aesthetic throughout his life: the ugly is the beautiful; death islife (Kurihara 2000: 18).”
7
See Barakei, Man and Woman, Kimono, Kamaitachi, andother works from the 1960s.

choreography entitled, Tohoku Kabuki, which ostensibly
combined fantastic childhood memories with the raw
aesthetic of pre-Meiji kabuki, a working classentertainment until appropriation by the government as alate 19th Century, bourgeois reconstruction.

Hijikata created an urban-centric, mental landscape
representative of the clash between the dual images of apre-war, intuitive corporeality and a postwar,
industrialized, domesticated body. He spent the period
from 1959 to 1968 performing themes of socio-cultural
marginalization, with Western-style modernization on
one side and, on the other, a dissipating, indigenous,“Japanese” body, newly defined as obsolete at best andcriminal at worst.
Just as Crapanzano speaks of“imaginative horizons” that feed liminal, dialectic statesof being that act as “determinants of…social imaginaries”(Crapanzano 2004: 1-15), so Hijikata’s imagined Tokyo
was redolent with subliminal, embodied conflict in all
directions, upon which he cast his insecurity, hatred,
obsession, and desire, a kind of perfect imperfection, lushwith rich metaphors for subverting social norms ofbeauty, quality, and morality.

Hijkata’s gendered duality may have been foreshadowed
in 1960 by his first collaborations with Hosoe, the photoessay, Man and Woman. High-contrast, monochrome
photos of Hijikata and two female dancers show them
mostly in body fragments, with faces, limbs, and torsos
forcibly juxtaposed in order to reveal an instinctive senseof gender-based tensions and harmonies. From theirfirst work together, the two men searched intensely forways to express a wide range of internalized,
domesticated, and intuitive subjectivities. 8 Kamaitachi,
therefore, was a midpoint of sorts in their mutual
progression from rebellion against conventional
typologies of physicality, gender, and sexuality toeventual creation of self-styled cosmologies rooted inhighly subjectivized body vocabularies.9

By the late 1960s, however, Hijikata was reaching theouter limits of this imaginary, which, after all, had been
expressly designed to eventually break down under theweight of its own increasing lack of definition. Thus, 15
years after moving to Tokyo and after three years of workon Kamaitachi, Hijikata began explicitly utilizing Tohoku
references in his work. One might guess that when
Hosoe and Hijkata returned to northern Japan together,
they arrived with varied agendas: ostensibly, nostalgic
excavation and filial reconciliation for Hosoe, and,perhaps, reimagination and re-purposing of visualcorporeal memory for Hijkata.

So is there evidence for these aesthetic shifts in theimages themselves? Or do the photos simply stand on
their own as powerful works of art, the direct efficacy ofwhich is dependent on the viewer? My own opinion isthat both factors are at play. On the one hand, while
there is nothing in the photos that specificallycommunicates the idea that Hosoe and Hijikata areworking through childhood traumas, I believe they also
contain a clear sense of presencing directly influenced by
the environment in each photo. In the city, Hijikata isshown clearly at odds with the other inhabitants andsurroundings: under a microscope, fleeing throughconcrete gardens, alone with children’s toys, a devil in themarketplace. In every image, he is at odds with thepeople and places around him. In the countryside,
however, he transforms into practically an elemental
force: crawling through shadows, hurtling with the wind,melting into the mud. Villagers alternately mock andthen fete him. He eventually joins with two brides inabsurd and obsessive matrimony rituals. He dies in
captivity, appears again in harvested, denuded fields, andbecomes as one with the air and earth, light anddarkness.

Thus, the period around Kamaitachi represented a bodily
shift in Hijikata’s festering and fertile hinterland of social
marginality from external, typed, and male to internal,
biographical, and female.
His seminal 1968
performance, Hijikata Tatsumi to Nihonjin: Nikutai no
Hanran (Hijikata Tatsumi and the Japanese: Revolt of the
Flesh), was his last to depict a predominantly masculine
universe replete with Western dance stereotypes andtransgressive behavior. After this and the publication of
Kamaitachi in 1969, Hijikata moved into an intense
period of many years where he developed a lexicon ofbody imagery and mental states ostensibly inspired by hischildhood and also began choreographing women, one ofwhom, Ashikawa Yoko, became his leading protégé until
his death in 1986. Stories of crawling through rice fields,
playing with deadly farming tools, fearing mythicalbeasts, drunken singing by his father, and alleged sale
into prostitution of his sister all contributed to theeventual formation of a loosely codified Butoh-fu (Butoh
language) inspired by a highly idiosyncratic Tohoku
imaginary. By the premiere in 1972 of 27 Nights for Four
Seasons, a month of new Tohoku-inspired performancesby his dance company, Hijikata was defining himself lessby what he was not and did not have and increasingly bywhat he alleged to have experienced and become. Thisfocus on his indigenous imaginary continued until his
death in 1986, when he had just completed a new

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
8	
  Hosoe,	
  for	
  instance,	
  in	
  working	
  with	  Mishima	
  on	
  the	
  first	  25

photos	  for	  Barakei,	
  wrapped	
  the	
  novelist	
  in	
  a	
  garden	
  hose	  and	
  made	  him	
  stand	  in	
  place	
  while	  he	
  shot	  two	
  entire	
  rolls	  of	
  film	  in	
  order	
  to	
  “destroy	
  the	  preconceived	
  ideas	
  about	
  Mishima’s	
  image	  in	
  order	
  to	
  create	
  a	
  new	  Mishima.”	
  (Hosoe	  2009)	
  Hosoe	
  took	  credit	
  for	  all	  of	
  the	
  image	
  details	
  in	
  the	
  project,	
  which	  he	
  said	  evolved	
  entirely	
  from	  his	
  own	  imagination,	
  and	  he	
  took	  “whole	  responsibility	
  for	  everything	
  that	  is	
  presented	
  in	
  them.”	
  (Hosoe	
  1991:	  25)	  9
For Hosoe, the apotheosis of this work was the photo essay,
Embrace, published in 1970 and featuring the bodies of manyof Hijikata’s dancers.

These gestures, stances, and movements are
manufactured entry points, ways of performing, of being,
in and of an imagined, post-indigenous body that ostensibly
cannot help itself from transcending both its ruralfoundations and urbanized filters to resolve into a tensile,spontaneous lexicon of memory, subjectivity, andpresence. I say this body is imagined because of its semifictional basis and post-indigenous because Hijikata
posited a nativist, essentialist identity off of its mooringsin an early postmodern world not of its own making.
Through Hosoe’s biographical framework and aesthetic,
Hijikata unveiled his own potential for realizing a larger
and fuller artistic vision than he had previously
attempted. Kamaitachi allowed him the freedom torevisualize his roots into a fantastic yet also practicalworking method that would last until his death two
decades later.10

published his butoh-fu himself or publicly defined butoh
in terms of a set and determined training method. Butoh
practice is, by definition, an ever-fluid space ofindividual, idiosyncratic engagement between the psychic
and corporeal selves, between mind and body, typicallymore concerned with the nature of presence and identity
than clear formation of artistic expression. Thus, a few
dozen photos, a handful of short film clips, and a numberof largely oblique public statements are all most butoh
practitioners have ever witnessed of Hijikata in the 24
years since his death. This has made Kamaitachi astandard reference by default for the self-definition of
butoh, mentally repeated by countless students anddancers who accept it as a fundamental part of theircollective definition of who and what Hijikata was.
In analyzing butoh photos, especially seminal 1960s
images, one might surmise that later generation
practitioners often look to these in their desire for gnosis
from the roots of butoh itself represented by its founding
generation of artists.
This desire drives many
practitioners to bestow a proto-spiritual legitimacy onsuch photos as a kind of predominant, sacred text, replete
as all sacred texts are with alluring, obfuscative surfaces,
infinite, undefinable depths, and an aching, unresolving
physicality.

The commercially and critically successful photos also
provided the additional benefit of greater social
validation for Hijikata, raising his profile from enfant
terrible of the Japanese dance world to legitimate cultural
practitioner. From the late 1960s onward, Hijikata
became not only a respected artist, but a cultural icon as
well. His aesthetic principles and choreographic forms
pronounced and practiced within this period became thevisual basis of the stereotypical Butoh style that continues
modishly through the present day, both within much of
the Japanese and international performance communities
and, unfortunately, in the minds of most critics as well.

Returning to Camera Lucida, the act of looking to thepast in this manner sits between Barthes’s contrast of theamateur and professional photographer’s gaze: “…it is
the amateur…who is the assumption of the professional:
for it is he who stands closer to the noeme ofphotography,” (Barthes 1981: 99) which Barthes defines
as “that-has-been,” or “the Intractable” (Barthes 1981:77), a past existential state in a photo, which he equateswith his personal truth. (Barthes 1981: 98) Amateurs
look to the past, what exists apart from and despite
themselves, and are therefore sentimental, subjective.
Professionals look to the future, what can or will exist
because of them, and are therefore rational, objective.
John Berger states:

Hosoe continued onward after Kamaitachi to devise both
highly-stylized, studio-based abstractions as well as
subjective documentaries with other willing subjects.
However, this seminal work with Hijikata continues toinspire butoh-based practitioners around the globe andstands, as one longtime, American student described tome, as “image words that tell me everything I need toknow about dance.”11
For most practitioners, it is primarily their perception of
Hijkata’s Tohoku identity, not Hosoe’s, that defines
Kamaitachi. For them, the photos are not so muchdesigned images with aesthetic immanence, but rather asource of knowledge, full of psychic immanence; awindow into the very roots of butoh practice itself.
While Hijikata did write down a great deal of working
notes, imagery, and poetic, surreal essays, he never

Certainty may be instantaneous; doubt requires
duration; meaning is born of the two. An instantphotographed can only acquire meaning insofar
as the viewer can read into it a duration
extending beyond itself. When we find aphotograph meaningful, we are lending it a past
and a future. (Berger/ Mohr 1982)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
10	
  For	
  example,	
  Natsu	  Nakajima,	
  one	  of	
  Hijikata’s	
  first	  students,	
  stated,	
  “Hijikata	
  would	
  tell	  us:	
  ‘Make	
  the	
  face	
  of	
  
an	
  old	
  devil	
  woman,	
  with	  the	
  right	
  hand	  in	
  the	
  shape	
  of	
  a	
  
horn,	
  and	  the	
  left	  hand	  holding	
  her	
  long	  hair’…then	
  comes	  the	
  light	
  of	
  the	
  sun,	
  and	  the	
  eyes	  become	
  smaller;	
  then	
  comes	  the	
  wind,	  and	  the	
  eyelids	
  quiver;	
  then	
  you	  must	  feel	
  
like	
  a	
  stone.”	
  (cited	
  in	
  Viala/Masson-­‐Sekine	
  1988:	
  135)	
  11Interview with Rosemary Candelario, Los Angeles, CA,
10/23/09.

I believe this is a function of our second nature tendency tointerpret and assign a place in our cosmology to everything
we see. Thus, butoh practitioners often look to the past inorder create their futures, making their relationship withviewed photos a binary between objective and subjective
perception. Further, such a binary in photography isrepresentative of, on the one hand, killing and death and,on the other, birth and life. By perceiving facts (Barthes’s
26

studium), i.e. stasis, we destroy what’s there, by nature
actually mutable and impermanent.
By perceiving
idiosyncratic impressions (Barthes’s punctum), i.e.
ambiguous, unstable reality, we generate meaning and evenimmanence, which arises in the fertile liminal space
between the image and our desires.

our “loving and terrified consciousness,” is “ecstacy.” (Barthes
1981: 119)Thus, without consideration of a source like Kamaitachi as asacred text, from where would practitioners draw essential
and ongoing inspiration for the endless redefinition andrenewal of their practice? As Csordas has postulated,people’s active imagination of the sacred in their lives “isdefined not by the capacity to have such experiences, but by
the human propensity to thematize them as radically other.”(Csordas 1988: 34) In other words, our experience of thesacred is often defined by our desire for it in others. Just as
diasporic Tibetan Buddhist nationals find immanence(Benjamin’s “aura”) in any reproduction of the Dalai Lama’s
photo (Harris 2004: 142), so many butoh-based
practitioners find inherent inspiration in Kamaitachi photos
in books, magazines, museum exhibits, and documentaryfilms. In this way, we “know” Hijikata in the context of ourown imaginary of his life within his memory space andbutoh’s postwar roots. For, if Hijikata did not come fromhis invented, post-indigenous, Tohoku imaginary, how elsemight we know where we come from?

Jay Hirabayashi, Co-Artistic Director of Kokoro Dance in
Vancouver, Canada, recalls such an experience during his
early practice in the 1980s:
I had a book of pictures of butoh stuff, and I readJean Viala, who put out a book, and I read what hesaid butoh was. The first book was in Japanese, so I
couldn’t read the text, but the pictures wereamazing. So we would look at the pictures, and I
had done one workshop. We just decided we would
try to do what we imagined butoh was. So I shaved
my head, we painted ourselves white. I made somedances where I was moving very slowly. And after,
when I finally did get to take Kazuo Ohno’s class,he said don’t imitate me, and don’t use any
technique. So I thought that actually when we
started we were doing the right thing. 12

Full references to this article are available in the Table ofReferences section.

Heyward Bracey, a Los Angeles-based dancer, reveals asimilar connection to early photos of Hijikata after hearing
a story from his teacher about Hijikata’s supposed bodily
epiphanies upon returning to his home village:
In sharing Hijikata's story he managed to include
me somehow in a "lineage" of cultural transmissionthat had begun barely 40 years ago when Hijikata
encountered something more substantial than hehad previously known in his work and training as adancer in the body of his father on the roads of his
village. My teacher's way of framing it was that
Hijikata had "found his own country."…. Having arather direct personal connection to a pivotal
experience of Hijikata's puts the photographs in awhole other category of experience. When viewing
them I'm looking at images that on some level tap
into my connection with Hijikata's epiphany,which has had an impact on my own personal andartistic life.13
In the conclusion to Camera Lucida, Barthes makes a clarion
call for subjective truth as the ultimate mode of knowledge
production and comprehension of reality when he states,“let us abolish the images, let us save immediate
desire…Such are the two ways of the Photograph. The
choice is mine: to subject its spectacle to the civilized codeof perfect illusions, or to confront it in the wakening of
intractable reality.” (Barthes 1981: 119) In other words, if
photos really are what we make of them, then, in Barthes’s
words, what we make, what we produce with the labor of

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
12	
  Hirabayashi,	
  Jay,	
  from	  an	
  interview	
  with	  the	
  author,	  3/21/10.	
  13Bracey, Heyward. Interview with the author, February 2010.

27

Common Songs: A Study of the Saibara
Collection and Inquiry into “Fuzoku” Arts in
the Heian Court
JAMES SCANLON-CANEGATA, UNIVERSITY OF HAWAII AT MANOA, USA
court through tribute and traveling performers (Fujiwara
2011; Konishi 1957; Usuda 2000).

Introduction
Even a cursory glance at the obscure saibara songcollection reveals a deep and prevalent intertextual
relationship with the canonical Nara period poetic
anthologies, the Man’yōshū (万葉集) and Nihon shokikayō (日本書紀歌謡). This intertextuality is, in somecases, near identical duplicates of poems. They offer an
intriguing perspective into the semiotic construction of
the songs, as well as offer insight into what aesthetic
elements separate saibara from the collections that help
construct its subtext.

The history of the songs is illustrated first by GoShirakawa in Ryōjin hishō (梁塵秘抄) “Secret Collectionof Rafter Dust” (ca. 1180) and later by Ichijō Kanera in
Rōjin guanshō (梁塵愚案抄) “Secret Collection of Rafter
Dust Folly” (ca. 15 c.). In Ryōjin hishō: Kudenshū (梁塵秘抄口伝集) “Secret Selections of Rafter Dust: Collectionof Oral Transmissions,” Go-Shirakawa writes,
From ancient times to the present, these songs
have been learned and passed down. These[songs] are known as kagura, saibara, andfuzoku… Saibara was born from the oral
traditions of commoners from various provinces
who came offering tribute in the Ministry of
Finance

Saibara is usually treated as a Heian period text (Konishi
1957, Usuda 2000, Kimura 2006, Ikeda 2006) witharchaic but untenable roots in traditional oral songs ofcommoners and regional ballads from outside the capitol(Fujiwara 2011, 43 - 50; Usuda 2000, 116 - 17). Thiswidely held assertion about saibara’s provenance is themost persistent element in studies and commentaries on
the songs. This paper will look at saibara in the historical
records, as well as at its intertexts, in order to illuminate
elements of its historical construction as a fuzoku (風俗)“folk” text.

古より今にいたるまで、習ひ伝へたるうたあり。これを神楽催馬楽風俗といふ。かぐらは天照おほん神の、天の岩戸をおし開か
せたまひける代に始まり、催馬楽は、大蔵の省の国々の貢物おさめける民の口遊におこれり。(Ryōjin hishō: Kudenshū 1)

Background
Saibara (催馬楽) “horse urging music” refers to a genreof accompanied vocal court songs from the Heian period.
It consists of 61 songs that were ultimately preserved in
the late Heian and early Kamakura periods. These songs
were likely part of a much larger repertoire that was
performed in accompaniment with music and dance inthe Heian court (Konishi 1957, 267). Saibara wasformalized as a genre of gagaku⁠ (雅楽) “elegant music”
during the Engi period (901 – 923), but there are several
early attestations, beginning with the Sandai Jitsuroku (三代実録) “True History of Three Reigns of Japan’ (901CE), Wamyō ruijushō ( 倭 名 類 聚 鈔 ) “AnnotatedClassification of Japanese Taxonomies” (ca. 935),
Makura no sōshi (枕草子) “Pillow Book” (1002), Genjimonogatari ( 源 氏 物 語 ) “Tale of Genji” (1021), andTaiheiki (太平記) “Record of Tranquility” (ca. 1368).

Among the theories of saibara’s origins, this early
description by retired emperor Go-Shirakawa has held
the attention of most modern scholars on the subject. In
a recent study, Fujiwara notes the difficulty in
substantiating this version of saibara’s history, but yields
to the possibility of a refining process that may havetaken place after the early adoption of the songs in the
court (Fujiwara 2001, 47, 45).
Saibara was ultimately preserved in two family
manuscripts, Tenji-bon (天治本) (1125) of the Fujiwara(藤原) family (referred to in the literature as the Tōke 藤
家 manuscript) and Nabeshimake-bon (鍋島家本) (ca. late
12 c.) of the Minamoto family (referred to in theliterature as Genke 源家. Despite the late dates of thesemanuscripts, both are written in man’yōgana, which
would have almost certainly been an obsolete script by
the eleventh or even mid-late tenth century. This, incorroboration with other evidence suggests that the

Almost nothing is known of the provenance of the songs,
however they are frequently attributed to traditional
regional songs of the peasantry that were brought to the28he organized an utagaki at the Suzakumon 朱 雀 門“Vermillion Bird Gate” at the capitol Heijō kyō (平城京)(Nara). In the Shoku nihongi (続日本紀), in the second
month, first day of the thirtieth year of the sexagenary
cycle, Tenpyō (天平) six (734), it is written:

collection itself may be much older than their extant
copies reveal.1 The first appearance of “saibara” in text isthe Sandai Jitsuroku (三代実録) “True History of Three
Reigns of Japan,” part of the Rikkokushi (六国史) Six
National Histories. It is recorded that a lady-in-waiting
who had risen to the rank of Naishi no kami (尚侍) or
Fourth Rank court official, Hiroi no joō (広井女王), wasproficient at and instructed in saibara song and dance:

At the Suzakumon gate, before the imperial
palace of the emperor, an utagaki withmore than 200 men and women inattendance was viewed. Among them weretalented individuals of special distinction.
Lord Nagata of the Lower Fourth rank,4Lord Kurusu5 of the Fourth Rank, Prince
Kadobe,6 Lord Nonaka of the Fifth Rank7
and others were the event leaders.
Everyone sang verses in chorus. And in
this way, they performed in the scales (ne音) of the song Naniwa (難波), the song
Yamatobe (倭部), the song Asaji no hara
(浅茅原), the song Hirose (広瀬), and thesong Ya mo sashi (八裳刺)⁠2. As decreed,
men and women in the capitol were seen
indulging there. They enjoyed thoroughly
until they became fatigued. The men andwomen who (honorably) [performed]
utagaki received a small reward (for theirperformances).

Fourth Rank court official Third Subordinate
Lady Hiroi passed. At the time of her death she
had surpassed eighty years. Hiroi cultivated avirtuous character. She had etiquette. She thusly
was known to be a talented singer. She was
especially perfected in saibara song. (Tenth
month, twenty-third day of Jōgan 1 [859 CE])尚侍従三位広井女王薨。薨時年八十有余。広
井少修徳操。挙動有礼。以能歌見称。特善催
馬楽歌。
Thus, it is clear that as part of a performance tradition,saibara songs were already being enjoyed by the court
aristocracy since at least the ninth century. This allows
for some firm grounding when considering the historicalcontext of saibara being preserved some time in the Nara
period. However, tenuous speculation turns to serious
consideration in light of other textual and historicalconnections, beginning with Hiroi no joō and the Nihon
shoki.

二月癸巳朔。天皇御朱雀門、覧歌垣。
男女二百余人。五品已上有風流者、皆交雑其中。正四位下長田王。従四位下栗栖王。門部王。従五位下野中王等為頭。以本末唱和。為難波曲。倭部曲。
浅茅原曲。広瀬曲。八裳刺曲之音。令都中士女縦観。極歓而罷。賜奉歌垣男
女等禄有差。

While very little is known about Hiroi no Joō, it is likelythat she came from a family with a tradition of some
performative and / or poetic achievement in the Nara
period. In the Sandai jitsuroku it states that Hiroi is thedescendant of Nihin no nagashinnō ( 二 品 長 親 皇 )“Prince Nagashin of the Second Princely rank.” This is
likely Naga no miko (長皇子) “Prince Naga” (ca. 715)
who was the fourth son of Emperor Tenmu (天武天皇)(631-686). Poems authored by Naga no Miko can befound in Man’yōshū volume I and III (Ise to Tsukushi notabi) (MYS 1.60, 1.65, 1.73, 2.130). Additionally,
Nagata no Miko’s 2 father, Kurusu Ō (来栖王) “Lord
Kurusu” 3 (681-758) was charged with the duty ofheading the bureau of court gagaku in 733. Concurrently

Kurusu’s son, Ōhara Ō (大原王 ) (ca. 742), who is also
found in the Man’yōsū (17.3952), would have been
Hiroi’s paternal uncle and elder. Furthermore, thesimilarities between the songs performed at the above
mentioned utagaki and the saibara songs Asamuzu 浅水“shallow water,” Asamidori 浅緑 “shallow (pale) green,”
and Namuba no umi 難波海 “sea of Nanba” cannot beignored. What is clear is that Hiroi and her family had
deep ties with practitioners and offices dealing with Nara
period gagaku, and saibara in particular. Fujiwara suggeststhat Hiroi was the first to learn and pass on the Genkesaibara tradition from Emperor Saga (嵯峨天皇) (r. 809823) (Fujiwara 2011, 131). If this is accurate, it puts into

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
1

Comparative evidence of these manuscripts withearly Chinese music transcriptions suggest a “received
precedent” (Markham 1983, 17). The statistical preservation of
kō-otsu distinctions in the man’yōgana graphs used also point
to scribal conservatism in the orthography, strongly suggestingthat the manuscripts are copies or edits of earlier ones (Fordetails, please refer to Scanlon-Canegata, unpublished MA
thesis, 2014).
2
Nagata no Miko is Prince Naga’s grandson3
For details on the controversial dates and records regarding
Prince Naga and the imperial line, see
http://www7a.biglobe.ne.jp/~kamiya1/mypage441.htm

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
4

29

Nagata Ō Seishi (正四位下長田王) (Nagata-noMiko 長田皇)5Kurusu Ō Jushi (来栖王従四)6
Kadobe-no-Ōkami(門部王)7Nonaka Ō jugo (従五位下野中王)

question the assertion that allusions to poems in the
Man’yōshū and other Nara period texts are in fact
‘allusions.’ These instances would have almost certainly
been viewed as borrowed elements by later literati, but inreality it may be something much more indirect andunintentional. Haruo Shirane reminds us thatintertextuality is a “collective unconscious” that“dispenses with the classical criteria of authorialconsciousness or contact” (Shirane 1990, 76). In line withthis definition, saibara is a prime candidate for this kindof unconscious and authorless ubiquity. What’s more, thecomposite of textual elements present in these songs
speaks to a possible parallelism between folk traditions
and early court poetry.

(Gyōyūshō, Chōkin gyōkō, Eisho 6) (cited in
Fujiwara 2011, 44)
This excerpt dated 1086 and describes the unfixed natureof the songs. Konishi draws a parallel between saibara
and min’yō (民謡) via its relationship to gagaku (Konishi
1957, 167). The term minyō is a calque derived from
German volkslied “folk song.” This is an interesting
parallel considering the character of the songs as
described in the literature. The definition of folk music is
an elusive one. Ronald Cohen defines folk music as amusical tradition with unknown origins (Cohen 2006).
Another definition given by the International Folk Music
Council is based on an evolutionary process of oraltransmission (Latham 2002). Other definitions have folk
music as constituting any musical tradition associatedwith the underclass, or that is culturally and linguisticallyregional in nature (as opposed to central or standard
speech), and being passed through oral tradition. Within
the study of folklore, the folk process is the operation bywhich songs are adapted, re-interpreted, and altered overtime in order to better suit changing environments (ibid).
In consideration of this process, saibara can be viewed inthis way. While it is likely the original melodies were lost
early into its induction into the gagaku repertoire, thesongs likely had considerable dialectal and melodic
variation (Tachibana 1967; Fujiwara 2011). Each songchosen was inevitably representative of whatever region
they hailed from. As is the case in the folk process, lyrics
were altered and adapted to fit the court environment
and the events where they were sung. Moribe asserts thatthe songs were not altered from their original state asregional folk ballads (Tachibana 1967, 102). This
disputable assertion notwithstanding, saibara offers
ample connection with late Nara period courtiers, as seen
above, as well as an intriguing correlation with excerpts
from the Nihon shoki.

On the character and venues where the saibara songs
enjoyed their greatest popularity in the court, the
Gyōyūshō (御遊抄) (1485) documents it in excerpts dated
from 906 to 1200 CE. The context of the songs is further
documented in the Genji monogatari 源氏物語 (1021)
and Saibara ryakufu (催馬楽略譜) (1738). These entries
describe songs from the saibara repertoire as sungtypically with musical accompaniment at various events
through all four seasons. They were especially prevalentat kōen (公宴) “court banquets.” The lyrics were not fixed
and are described as being flexible, with ample room for
spontaneous alterations, without strict rules or guidelines
for performance (Fujiwara 2011, 20 - 21). Lyrics andphrases would often be altered spontaneously and manytimes deliberately in order to adjust the content to aparticular event taking place, i.e. adjusting to appropriateseasonal metaphors or physical locales, etc. (HarichSchneider 1952, 403; Fujiwara 2011, 43). An excerpt
from the Gyōyūshō confirms the casual singing of saibara
songs at a banquet:
On the occasion of the imperial visitation to
Tōhokuin. Record of Minister Sukefusa. At theresidence of the Imperial Consort.
There was no musical performance, however the
adjutant minister who was in attendance at thebanquet initiated the singing of miscellaneoussongs. A certain Saibara [song], a certain
miscellaneous song, and, again, a certain Kusha8
hymn, which were said to be quite unorthodox.

Geography of the songs and Nihon shoki
records
Thirty-five of the saibara songs contain references tospecific geographic locations in Japan. The majority ofsongs indicate provinces in or around the capital Heijōkyō(平城京) modern Kyoto, most in the areas along the
Tōkaidō ( 東 海 道 ) “Eastern Sea Road.” Tōkaidō
encompasses the Goki shichidō (五畿七道) “Five Capital
Provinces and Seven Districts (lit: roads).” Tōsandō (東山道 ) “Eastern Mountain Road” stretches through thecenter of Honshū from as far west as modern day Shiga
prefecture and northeast to modern Ibaraki prefecture.
However, saibara does not indicate anything farther thanmodern day Aichi. Saibara’s geographical distribution can
only be put into perspective when compared with textual
evidence from the Nihon shoki.

幸東北院資房記。女院御在所。無奏音楽。
但於饗座丞相及戸部発雑芸事。或催馬楽。
或雑哥。或又倶舎頌。奇怪云々。

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
8

Kusha (倶舎) (Sanscrit Kośa) is probably referring
to Kushashū (倶舎宗), a sect of Hinayana Buddhism brought
to Japan some time in the Nara period from India via acontinental intermediary. The sign 頌 jō can refer to a gatha orhymn (also those found in the shijing (Jp. shikyō 詩経 “Classicof Poetry”)“With no limitation as to the distance orproximity of their provinces, [they] invited able30

singers.”9
Nihon shoki 124
The above excerpt is from the Ryō no shūge (令集解), aninth century commentary on the yōrō code (養老律令)
originally written in 718 CE. The full excerpt describes
the utamai no tsukasa ( 楽 官 ) the governmental
management system of song and dance under the ritsuryō (律令) system. This early description of the office’s
origins corroborate those of court saibara’s genesis as
fuzoku uta (風俗歌) “folk / commoner song” in Ryōjinhishō and Ryōjin guanshō. In an entry dated 675, an
excerpt from Nihon shoki lists the provinces where song,dance, and other talent were collected under the auspicesof the imperial academy of music, to perform andinstruct within the confines of the court.

于知波志能	
  都梅能阿素弭爾	  伊提摩栖古
utipasi no2 / tume2 no2 / aso1bi1 ni / ide-mase ko2
Come out girls, to the amusement by the bridge(NSK 124)
There are no precisely corresponding full lines, just thephrases fasi ~ pasi “bridge,” and tume “edge; vicinity”
However, the description and context is similar, both are
anticipating the company of young girls at the foot of abridge. In part following Moribe, Usuda suggests thatthe saibara song is a fragment of an old tale involving
sexual temptation of the imperial princess serving at Ise
Shrine (Saigū 斎 宮 ), for which the punishment wasdeath (Usuda 2000, 147). Tsuchihashi views the Nihon
shoki poem as a description of utagaki, which commonly
took place at the foot of a bridge (Tsuchihashi 1957,
206). This saibara song is also compared with thefollowing Man’yōshū poem:

There are a total of 9 corresponding locations out of a
total 12 cited in Tenmuki and 16 in saibara. Furthermore,all 13 locations are referenced in the Engishiki (延喜式)(927) with the exception of Awaji. This evidence is cause
for speculation and is considered by Konishi (1957) andFujiwara (2011) in their assessment of saibara as having
genuine fuzoku origins. With other sources agreeing withthis analysis, it is likely that, at the very least, these were
the areas where many of the saibara songs originated,some time in the Nara period. Fujiwara views thesestatistics as supporting the idea that the songs collected
as saibara were not limited to outlying provincial areas
but also represent fuzoku uta from the capitol (Fujiwara
2011, 53 - 55). Furthermore, he cites the intertextuality
and phrasing that is reflected in poems from theMan’yōshū and the Nihon shoki kayō (日本書紀歌謡)“Archaic songs of the Nihon shoki.”

墨江之 小集樂尓出而 寤尓毛 己妻尚乎 鏡登見津藻SUMI1NO2YE NO2 / WODUME2 ni IDETE /UTUTU ni mo / ONO2-DUMA SURA wo /KAGAMI1 to2 MI1tu moGoing out to the small gathering at Sumiyoshi
It is not a dreamThat my spouse appears as a transient beauty, as
if [looking] in a mirror (MYS 16.3808)
This Man’yōshū poem has a commentary following:

Despite this correlation, there is only one identifiable
textual allusion to the Nihon shoki kayō in saibara. It is
dated Tenchi 9 (ca. 635) and occurs in a song that
contains comparable elements from other intertexts as
well:
Saibara: Takekawa (竹河)太介加波乃	
  波之乃川女名留也	
  波之乃川女名留也	
  波名曾乃尓	  波礼	  波名曾乃尓	 和礼乎波波名天也	  和礼乎波波奈天也	
  女
左之太久戸天take kafa no / fasi no tume naru ya / fasi no tumenaru ya / fanazono ni fare / fanazono ni / ware
woba fanate ya ware woba fanate ya / mezasi
tagufete
By the bridge of Takekawa, [it is] by the bridgeof Takekawa
At that flower garden fare!
Let [me] go at the flower garden, put me withthose girls and let me go! (Saibara: Takekawa)

	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  	
  
9Original	
  excerpt:	
  不限国遠近取能歌人耳。

	
  [Regarding this poem], it is said there was a manfrom outside the capitol. His name is not known.
On an occasion, the townspeople gathered ingreat numbers and for field amusement (utagaki).
Among the people who attended there was a
couple of provincial peasant stock. The woman’scountenance was handsome and supreme toeveryone who gathered there. And thatprovincial peasant felt increasingly endeared
towards his wife. This was when he made thesong and praised her with it.
右傳云 昔者鄙人 姓名未詳也 于時郷里男女衆
集野遊 是會集之中有鄙人 夫婦 其婦容姿端正
秀於衆諸 乃彼鄙人之意弥増愛妻之情 而作斯
歌賛嘆美皃也The commentary identifies this poem as composed by aman of regional peasantry stock (tohito 鄙人) during anutagaki. The above Nihon shoki poem also has a clear
reference to utagaki. These intertexts necessitate a31yamatokoto ( 大 和 琴 ) “songs on the Japanese zither,”
which include songs applied to the kagura and othergagaku repertoires.

revaluation of Usuda’s interpretation of the saibara song
and immediately tie the song into a subtextual theme ofutagaki, romantic encounters and feminine beauty. They
are further tied together by their fuzoku provenance(explicitly in MYS 16.3808) and topic. It is difficult tosay whether these songs were included consciously or as
an unconscious bricolage of poetic elements accessible toanyone within the sphere of oral ballads in this period.
Suffice it to say that the intertextuality between saibara
and Man’yōshū is considerable, and begs many morequestions about the literary or pre-literary relationshipthey reveal.

The majority of poems have anonymous authors.
However, among those attributed to an individual, Book
VII contains a small pool of various authors. The vast
majority of poems, however, are attributed to Kakinomoto
no Hitomaro, 56 in total. These poems are from thecollection Kakinomoto no ason Hitomaro kashū (柿本朝臣
人 麻 呂 歌 集 ) “Kakinomoto no ason Hitomaro Poetry
Collection” (abbr. Hitomaro Collection). This largest
cluster of references in Man’yōshū Books VII, XI, and XIIstatistically reflect the distribution of poems from the
Hitomaro Collection in Man’yōshū. The highest density of
Hitomaro Collection poems is found in Book XI with 161
poems. The full distribution is found on page xx.

Saibara and Man’yōshū
Man’yōshū is the major (known) intertext of saibara.
There are 26 references to the Man’yōshū occurring acrosseight books. This is probably one of the most intriguingand evocative aspects of the saibara songs, an aspect thathas them stand out considerably from the other Heianperiod fuzoku song collections. Interestingly, with the
exception of one poem Manyōshū 11.2362, and saibara:
Yama shiro (山城), all the songs with Man’yōshū-saibara
parallels are from unknown authors (Fujiwara 2011, 41).
While these parallels are not numerous, it is important tokeep in mind the size of the saibara corpus. Furthermore,
the putative origins, venue, content, and composition of
the majority of songs in the Saibara collection are, for themost part, vastly divergent from those selected forinclusion in the Man’yōshū. This makes for a perplexing
qualitative contradiction in the inclusion of Man’yōshū
poems in the collection. In order to better understandwhat these resemblances reveal, it is necessary to briefly
outline the Man’yōshū books wherein they appear.

With the exception of one reference appearing in Book
XIV, the saibara-Man’yōshū intertextual references
correlate exclusively with poems from Hitomaro
Collection. It is clear from the conspicuous appearance of
these poems that they were held in high esteem by thecompilers of Man’yōshū. Commons notes that this isespecially true in Book VII, where the poems are indeed
heading most of the zōka 雑歌 sections, thus reflecting
veneration paid to Hitomaro as one of the great andrespected poets of the age (Commons 2009, 34). There
are 84 poems attributed directly to Hitomaro himself,
but these are distinct from those quoted from the
Hitomaro Collection. The recitation of Hitomaro’s songs
before travel poems in some Man’yōshū books further
suggests that Hitomaro’s name was at least
superstitiously associated with safety in travel (Commons
2009, 1). While this does point to some connection
between Hitomaro and the saibara, or perhaps more
aptly, early oral songs and poetic traditions of travellingentertainers and regional commoners, more investigationis necessary to substantiate this.

It is clear that of all 26 instances, there is particulardensity in Book VII, XII, and XIV. The concentration ofintertextual references to poems in Book XIV isinteresting, considering the association of Azuma uta
with fuzoku artistry in general. The relatively highnumber of occurrences in Book VII and XI is alsointeresting for different reasons, which I will elucidate
below. However, a compositional breakdown of thebooks that have the highest number of poems withintertextual references in saibara is necessary tounderstand what, if any, connections they may have tobetter understand its historical context.

It is not known whether these songs were actuallycomposed by him or not. There is a theory that
Hitomaro did, in fact, not author the bulk of these
poems, but that he collected them in his travels.

Man’yōshū Book VII contains the highest number ofintertextual references in saibara, occurring in six songs(five poems from Book VII). Book VII’s compiler is notknown. It contains 350 poems in the zōka (雑歌), hiyuka(比喩歌), and banka (挽歌) genres. Though the majorityof poems are not dated, they are likely from the lateseventh or early eighth century. Along with the zōka andhiyuka genres are a series of themed poems such as mondō( 問 答 ) “question and answer” poems involving ahypothetical addressee (i.e. MYS 7.1251), and32

These lines of inquiry may bring about more questions
than answers. The connections between saibara and Nara
period poetic collections and its historical provenance,
may turn out to be a phantasm--a construction, of avision of saibara as nostalgic ballads, imbuing them witha certain curiosity and raw flavor that would haveappealed to the bored and isolated court aristocracy. Or
there may be a genuine underlying history threadingthem together. However, the implications for both ofthese scenarios is significant for our understanding of thedevelopment of oracular traditions and literacy in Japan,
as well as the way in which song and poetry and native
traditions of the populace was conceptualized in thespelling with very few exceptions. (2) The generalcomposition of the poems: Books XI and XII havedistinctly folk-style poems reminiscent of some gagaku
and kagura song varieties. (3) Anonymous authorship;
the majority of poems in Book VII, XI, and XII haveanonymous authors. (4) Kakinomoto no Hitomaro;
Kakinomoto no Ason Hitomaro Kashū (柿本朝人麻呂歌集) poems appear frequently in Book VII, XI, and XII.
These three books specifically contain poems from the
Hitomaro Collection. The

minds of early Japanese courtiers.is one of several
collections included throughout the Man’yōshū as kokashū
古歌集 “old song collection” (Commons 2003: 34).
Man’yōshū Book XI contains four poems referenced infour saibara songs. Of these, MYS 11:2362 is identified
as a Hitomaro Collection poem. This book in its entirety isidentified as having a distinctly folk flavor (Takagi 1972:9-11). It is also dominated by logographic writing,especially in the case of the Hitomaro Collection poems.
These Man’yōshū books share a few commonalities: (1)the spelling system; all the books apply semantographic

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Photo by Wally Gobetz (Creative Commons)

33

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Essays in Japanese Arts
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