Japanese spirit 3: final

While the artist and my mom were into their serious conversation about Mt. Koya and Shingon Buddhism, I was taking a picture of everything in his studio. I was totally like a tourist inside of his house. Right, after having been away from Japan for a long time, I have been missing this kind of Japanese spirit. Or, I have been looking for it even before then. I never liked Tokyo. I was not comfortable with the society and life style, like fully crowded trains, robot-like people in a same type of clothing in a same routine, hierarchy, and so forth. I had been physically, mentally constrained and suffocated. Every time I went back to the city, the feeling of confusion and hatred towards Tokyo became worse. The appearance of the city has been changing radically. New modern architectures, and hundreds of hundreds of new boutiques have been built up. It has been absolutely disgusting to observe. Why do we need so many boutiques? Surely, people seem obsessed with fashion, yet to me, they don't look happy with even a fancy, high-end dresses. Above all, everyone looks the same anyway; men with a cheap looking suit, women with a same style of make-up, hair color and fashion. I hate that almost every women die their hair in brown. I hate the fact that though they are so much in to fashion, too afraid to be individual. Why like this? Since when? Every step I took, this question mark is banging my head and upsetting my stomach. What happened to our beautiful traditions in this country like Shrines, Temples, Kimono, Black hair, sense of beauty, and sensitivity in people? Did we all lose them, as we lost the war? Was the US invasion only the reason? Then, do those Japanese living in Japan who are desperate to be like westerns know about the western culture beside the fashion? I was questioning why our great things were left behind and became something to just view, not to live or cope with. I am not saying that we need to live like in the ancient manner, yet at least; we could take and use some of them in a daily life. A daily life level, yes, which is it. That's exactly what I am missing and exactly what this artist is doing. Though he is not living in a traditional house, or not wearing Kimono, he is accommodating the forgotten traditions to contemporary life. He takes over what his grand father as a Miya-daiku has left in this country, the great spirit of the craftsmanship. Lost his parents in his young age, he had to carry what all his ancestors tried to tell. I assume that it would not have been easy path as an artist or as a human being, yet he found the way. Then, this spirit deeply manifests through his work. Thus, the work becomes genuine, touching one's heart. His work doesn’t need any explanation. After my mom and I left, we are speechless for a while. We didn't need to talk about it. Given some important ritual stuff from Mt. Koya by him, she was grateful. The first thing I did for art in Japan wasn't only about art. It became the most significant event in my entire trip this time. Since I have been in NY, I myself have been ignoring Japan. Now, this event gave me an opportunity to face it again, evaluate it again, and identify myself as Japanese. More importantly, it woke me up to the point where my feeling of passion to bridge the gap between forgotten and now, and west and east became much stronger.

Japanese spirit 2

"My intention for making art is to convey invisible light," he said and continued. " I was once meditating at a full moon night in Mt. Koya and I saw the moon-like light within myself, and that was what I tried to embody in my latest work." Then, he took me to his studio. The first thing that caught my eyes was a household Shinto alter. All the tools and books were in a perfect order as the grandson of Miya-Daiku. " I was taught by him to take special care of the tools as a person who makes something," he explained. The air was sacred and clean. Then, there were 2 huge painting-like wax sculptures, emanating the dim light through the wax. They were absolutely stunning and have a dignified presence. I felt as if I heard the sound of a temple bell. The work was made by wax and oil paint. The size of each work is about 1.2 m x 1.2m and 5cm thick. One has a big full moon-like circle in the middle. The other has a set of small circles, some in full, some in crescent or decrement forms, setting in a symmetrical circle. The moon-like light emerging from the semi-transparent wax looked as if they were alive. The more I saw, the more the light started moving around like the real moon. According to him, wax shrinks or expands, depending on the temperature. My feeling of excitement reached to the point where I needed to ask my mom to come. I felt that she had to experience this. She is a devout Buddhist, who got retired a few years ago after her almost 40 years of career in fashion, who brought me up all by herself. Now, she has been in a transition for life. My instinct was telling me that this artist and she would have something to share with. When she arrived and saw the work, she was speechless for a while. He and I were looking at her back against his work. " Everything disappears," she commented. "Nothing exists," she added. "What do you mean?" I asked. " Light disappears and you will be united into the work. This is the kind of work that I want to view alone," she was really into it. So, we left her alone in his studio....

Japanese spirit 1

The first thing that I did for art in Japan was an artist's studio-visit. On the third day of my arrival in Japan, feeling a bit of jet-lug, I headed to the studio, the studio of Kisho Mukaiayama. (It would be hard to get this, but already his name gave me an impression that he would be someone who has a Japanese spirit. ) He picked me up at the reception of his apartment building. " I heard that you were a grand son of Miya Daiku," I said after greeting him. "Yes, and I was brought up in Koya-San," he replied. “ All Right,” his remark hit me. Miya-daiku are highly skilled wooden builders, who build ancient and traditional architectures like Shrine and Temple. The number of Miya-Daiku gets less and less, so they are considered as a national asset. To become Miya Daiku is like to be a monk, requiring a great deal of training, patience and self-discipline. So, a grandson of Miya-Daiku means something here. Then, Koyasan is a mountain where a great monk," Kukai," was settled down and founded a temple for the study and practice of Esoteric Buddhism twelve centuries ago. This is the very spiritual place where my mom regularly has gone to practice over 3 decades, and I have been for 3 times. Something was clicking my mind. As I expected, his place was absolutely neat and well decorated. A white leather sofa, white coffee table, his painting-like white wax sculptures, Japanese traditional furniture, Joseph Beuys’s posters, all are well fitted into his modern apartment. With my excitement, a tea set that he served knocked me down. In a small Japanese traditional tray, everything from the teacup from some cookies and chocolate was placed in a well-deliberated manner. It was like a Zen garden. At this point, even before seeing his art, I already got a great sense of who he was and I felt that I was meant to get to know him as a person. He had Japanese Spirit, which we are missing or losing now, which I was really longing to see. “My mother needs to see him,” I kept thinking, the moment I met him. My soul, loving to connect people to people, had been banging me....to be continued.

missing home

I came back from Japan last Monday. Besides the fact that I had a good time there, somehow I feel a bit lost now. I cannot still believe that I was in Tokyo... until 2 days ago, I was in the different air, smell, and sound. It is amazing that 13 hours of the flight could put me in such entirely different worlds. One might say, " Come on! You just came back from the trip. It is natural that you feel strange." Right, yet going back to hometown differs from some trips where nothing could be familiar to one's eyes, doesn't it? My base has been in NY, but Tokyo where I was brought up is also my home as well. The moment I opened the door of my house in Tokyo, I could naturally accommodate myself. Without opening my eyes, I, for instance, knew where towels or toothbrushes or cups were. Everything around me in Tokyo hasn't really changed. At the same time, I had to admit again that I could not fit myself in the society of Japan. I was a stranger even in the familiar surroundings. On the contrary, though I belong to NY at the moment, I am not sure if the city is ever my home. Then, the question is raised up. "What defines home? Profession? Family? Friends? Familiar buildings? " "Which city do I really belong to, the city where my dearest mother and my friends live, but I can't find a way to fit in, or the city where I put so much energy on accomplishing my career, but not many close friends live?" I don't know the answer. Perhaps, I may be just missing warmth in my hometown, which I cannot really find here. Home might not necessary be the place where one belongs to. Perhaps, home is in the deep center of oneself where everybody is coming from. The invisible place where we all can share love and nobody will not have to feel lonely or lost. In either case, I am still missing home.