From The Japanese Way of the Artist (Including The Japanese Way of the Flower)

Excerpt from The Japanese Way of the Flower: Ikebana as Moving Meditation by Ann Kameoka and H. E. Davey

Flower arrangement by Ann Kameoka
Artwork by L. J. C. Shimoda

The Japanese Way of the Flower: Ikebana as Moving Meditation (Stone Bridge), ISBN 1-880656-47-7, $16.95, paper, 152 pages, by Ann Kameoka and H. E. Davey

Fundamental Principles of Kado

rom the martial arts to dance to kado, particular philosophical and artistic codes are historically held in common by all traditional Japanese cultural arts. These aesthetic codes have had a deep influence on the evolution of kado. It is not an exaggeration to say that if these aesthetic principles are not understood, no great awareness of any Japanese cultural art, whether it be kado, aikido, tea, dance, or calligraphy, is possible.

A vast number of terms and concepts are associated with Japanese art, and a detailed explanation of such concepts is beyond the scope of this book. Besides, a true grasp of many of these ideas comes only through personal, hands-on experience in one of the arts of Japan. Nonetheless, the following sections describe some of the more important principles of Japanese aesthetics. Each one relates to the others to form a single, harmonious whole that is Japanese art. In fact, perhaps the most central concept in kado and other related arts is the principle of harmony itself.

Harmony
In kado, it is essential that you understand the attributes and growth patterns of the plants you are working with. Yet a mere understanding of the characteristics of a given flower is not enough to arrive at wa (harmony) in kado.

The serenity and openness of a chrysanthemum blossom is reflected in the eye of the artist, as soon as he surrenders himself without reservation to the flower. The curved line of the mountains on the horizon outside the window of a Japanese home is in unison with the movement of the pine branch of an ikebana composition inside the house. Autumn outside, autumn in ikebana, and maturity of the artist, this would be a completely harmonious triad. Form and color, flowers and branches, blossoms and leaves unite harmoniously with the container and room, with the season and the sentiments of the artist. Only in modern ikebana may we forget the principle of wa. Here dissonance appears. The harmony of nature is, however, underscored through this principle.

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

Merging your creative ideas with the nature of the plant you're working with is vital as well. You must respect the ki of its foliage as much as you understand its growth tendencies. Skillful kado makes use of harmony in the form of a refined combination of understanding and respect. This state is reflected in the expert's relaxed and gentle handling of flowers even when he or she is bending and shaping the stems. Likewise, the more proficient one becomes in traditional Japanese budo, the more it is possible to sense and understand an opponent's intentions. Through correct and rigorous training, the martial artist should, ideally, arrive at a heightened state of calm alertness that allows him or her to accurately comprehend the opponent's mind. But this enhanced condition of sensitivity is meaningless unless it is accompanied by an attitude of respect toward the opponent's intentions. Forcing people rarely equals an effective or efficient use of ki in budo--and the same can be said of forcing plants in kado. When both understanding and respect combine, harmony is realized in budo, and in this harmonious condition a martial arts expert can freely lead and control an attacker. Harmony is a central aspect of shodo as well. In that art, the condition of harmony is frequently expressed through a state of dynamic balance. Balance in shodo is asymmetrical, which produces an active feeling of movement within the characters. One could liken it to a picture of a sprinter whose inclined running posture has been frozen in time by the camera. Seeing such a picture, you instantly have a sensation of movement, but this sensation is different from what you experience when viewing a photo taken of a runner at the moment he or she trips and is falling forward. Both photos show bodies inclined in the direction in which they are moving; the difference between the two is balance. Balance in shodo can also be witnessed through a natural alternation of heavy and light brush pressure, which in turn produces an oscillation of thick and thin lines of ink. If all the brush strokes are of equal thickness the work looks stilted, unnatural, and dead. Kado, likewise, requires a natural state of asymmetrical balance. The principle of harmony is a constant factor in all the Ways, though each art expresses it in its own unique manner. Asymmetrical Balance Asymmetrical balance is used in kado to evoke a feeling of naturalness. Since nature involves the motion of continuous change, kado should not have a static feeling--exactly what is created by using a rigid, symmetrical balance. Instead, the utilization of unevenness is endlessly variable and calls forth a dynamic feeling of movement. Kado makes use of an unequal triangular balance that you will explore more completely in this and the following chapters. As discussed in Chapter 1, balance in kado has to do with the ten-chi-jin (heaven-earth-humanity) principle in which the three elements jin (humanity), ten (heaven), and chi (earth) are all represented. Not attempting to fill up all of the space in a composition is another form of asymmetry commonly found in Japanese art. Kado makes liberal use of empty space, which invites the imagination to complete the arrangement, thus drawing the viewer into the work of art. In other words, the unfinished asks to be finished. That which is unfinished is in harmony with life's dynamics of constant change and evolution. Again, asymmetry does not necessarily indicate a lack of balance. Just the opposite is true in kado, an art based upon a unification of opposites (in/yo, as discussed in Chapter 1) in the form of a balanced imbalance. Arriving at "unbalanced balance" can be thought of as a kado version of a Zen koan, a metaphysical question that transcends the limitations of logical thought. The use of asymmetry, incompleteness, and unevenness can also be witnessed in Japanese minimalist ink painting, brush writing, and even classical architecture. In Japanese flower arrangement, if an overly long branch is used on one side, some shorter plant material must be used on the opposite side to create balance. In Western flower arrangement, an equally long branch might be placed on the opposite side, which would negate asymmetrical balance and evoke a rigid, static, symmetrical feeling. Kado's irregular balance makes use of combinations of contrasting elements that are in keeping with the spirit of in and yo. Basic in/yo patterns of proportion are made up of the concepts of "few vs. many" along with "large vs. small," and the fundamental number of materials utilized is odd (seven or five or three), which promotes asymmetrical balance. The viewer's eyes move from the "few-small" element of the arrangement to the "large-many" aspect, which draws him or her into the work more fully. Kado's basic proportions and number of materials are also tied into the heaven-earth-humanity trinity, or triangular balance, which you will have a chance to understand through hands-on experience later in this book. <><><><><><><> <><><><><><><> <><><><><><><> Artlessness  Kado has been influenced by a number of the Japanese philosophies and religions that make up the traditional Japanese cultural matrix. These sources of inspiration include Zen and other forms of Buddhism, Shinto, and Dokyo. Dokyo, also known as Taoism, is not always mentioned as an influence on many Japanese arts, since its origins are in China with Lao Tsu. However, direct and indirect influence (via Zen, which originated in China through a combination of native Taoism and Indian Buddhism) on the concept of artlessness is clear. In kado and Taoism, less is more, and noninterference with nature allows the creative process of the universe to flow through the artist. Lao Tsu wrote: In the pursuit of learning, every day something is acquired. In the pursuit of Tao, every day something is dropped. Less and less is done Until non-action is achieved. When nothing is done, nothing is left undone. The world is ruled by letting things take their course. It cannot be ruled by interfering. [from Tao Te Ching, trans. Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English. Vintage Books, 1972.] To understand what we have termed "artlessness," you will need to become familiar with several Japanese aesthetic concepts, including wabi and sabi. "Wabi" means "poverty." Dave Lowry, author of Persimmon Wind, wrote about the term: Its connotation was as negative as the English translation implies. Rikyu [founder of the tea ceremony] imbued the term with a wholly different flavor, though. He used wabi to mean a poverty of materialism, of superficial appearances. Wabi he defined as the minimizing of things, the better to gain a spiritual insight into oneself and the world around. [from Persimmon Wind: A Martial Artist's Journey in Japan. Charles E. Tuttle, 1998] Wabi hints at a sort of beauty perhaps best exemplified by nature or natural surroundings. Imagine a rustic lodge, standing alone in the wilderness. It is constructed of unpainted wood that has faded and aged to a soft warm color, the beauty of its grain clearly visible. Surrounding the cabin are weathered rocks covered with moss and lichens. The sense of humbleness, quiet solitude, and aged patina evoked by such an image may approach wabi. However, wabi is not to be mistaken for that which is merely soberly sedate, reserved, dull, and without character. When artists strive for wabi, but achieve only commonplace dullness, this is called jimi in Japanese art. Wabi transcends intellectual entanglement, all forms of self-importance and pretense, and uncovers the simple truths of nature, which underlie the diversity of relative phenomenon. Since nature is asymmetrical, uneven, even "imperfect," wabi is the impeccability of natural imperfection. <><><><><><><><><><> <><><><><><><><><><> <><><><><><><><><><> In a manner of speaking, wabi is the dignity of artlessness and even deformity. When this artless, undeveloped elegance is coupled with a certain uncultured antiquity or even the illusion of this ancient attribute, Japanese artists use the term "sabi" (literally "solitude" or "lonesomeness") to describe it. In particular instances, it can also indicate an effortless quality. (Like the term "wabi," it is impossible to characterize "sabi" directly. It can only be found through genuine training in one of Japan's cultural arts.) Despite difficulties of definition, we offer the following working interpretation of sabi: it is not merely "aloneness." It is an embracing of solitariness, a relaxed and serene satisfaction in being solitary. An evening spent trapped by a torrential rain, alone in a cottage in the woods, enjoying the charged stillness and a favorite book by a woodstove--that verges upon the sensation of sabi. Balanced imbalance, simplicity, artlessness, solitude, great age--all of these relate to wabi and sabi, which in turn are associated with the word shibumi (elegance) and the related term shibui (elegant). Shibumi connotes something astringent in taste, while shibui hints at that which is natural or dignified. In kado, a flower arrangement possesess the quality of shibumi when it creates a sensation of coolness during a scorching summer and warmth on a frigid day. Shibumi is quiet in elegance, gentle and satisfying in a manner that is not shaped exclusively by reasoning. It is the condition of being "not too much," and exemplifies artistic restraint in the highest sense. Shibui describes the condition of being not gaudy (in color, for instance), but ample in quality. Unpolished silver or gold and the hue of ashes or bran can bring about a restrained yet finished and peaceful shibui effect. The subdued color scheme of an older woman's kimono, the spare arrangement of a Japanese guestroom, the simple clothing and implements in the tea ceremony--all can be described as shibui. Wabi, sabi, shibumi, and shibui are traditional Japanese aesthetic concepts that we have combined for the sake of convenience under the general heading of artlessness. These ideas are most definitely presented in this book in a Japanese framework, but at their deepest level they touch something universal in the human heart that can relate to people of all cultures. Impermanence  Sabi not only indicates a sense of aloneness, effortless action, and/or uncultured antiquity, it also relates to the universal quality of impermanence in life as well as Japanese art. Returning again to Dave Lowry's Persimmon Wind, we can find a clear explanation of the correlation between sabi and the ephemeral nature of existence: To appreciate sabi is to discover contentment in solitude. To integrate sabi into daily life is to recognize that all our relationships with others, even those we cherish and love most deeply, are limited and fleeting. Even the woman or man whose spouse has been at his or her side for fifty years feels it was but an instant when that partner dies. For Rikyu, this sensation of ephemerality was at the heart of the experience of chado [tea ceremony]. No matter how beautiful the flowers arranged at the tokonoma or how delightful the season of the tea garden surrounding the hut, these will pass in an eyeblink, as will the moments we share with others in the hut. The snow outside the cabin door will melt in the morning, the book we savored by the fireplace will be finished. [from Persimmon Wind: A Martial Artist's Journey in Japan. Charles E. Tuttle, 1998] The sabi state of impermanence has been summed up frequently by exponents of tea ceremony and other Japanese cultural arts as ichigo, ichi-e (one encounter, one chance). In essence, when we view another's flower arrangement, or when we create our own arrangements, the mind must be in the present, as if we might never have another chance to encounter that moment--which, of course, we never do. To live the moment fully is to unify mind and body and be totally alive as opposed to merely existing. This is the spirit of muga ichi-nen discussed in the last chapter. Muga ichi-nen and ichigo, ichi-e are related ideas that are firmly rooted in the nature of impermanence. (In fact, wabi, sabi, shibumi, and shibui, as well as other concepts and principles common to the various Ways, tend to overlap frequently, since they really describe different aspects of what is in the end a single, universal Way.) This, in turn, underscores the value of muga ichi-nen ho as an effective meditative form for proponents of the Japanese arts, which universally regard transience as a valued aesthetic if not an actual spiritual component. Dropping self-consciousness and completely experiencing a single, fleeting moment as "one thought" is certainly comparable to the realization that life only exists at this instant and we will never have another chance to live it again. What better art than kado to lead us to nonattachment as well as a profound awareness of the transient character of life? Flowers that you have painstakingly arranged will wither and die in a short time. Some people even wonder if there's any point in rigorously training in an art that is so impermanent. ("If you can't keep it around for a few years to enjoy and show to your friends, then what's the point? I'd rather paint and produce something lasting.") These individuals have failed to realize that the very fact that flowers do not last is what makes arranging and viewing them special. These same folks suffer from the illusion that some form of permanent art exists. It does not. Beauty is in the moment, and realization of its fleeting nature is what encourages us to live every instant completely, with our whole minds and bodies. Someone once said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making plans"--ichigo, ichi-e indeed. To understand the essence of nonattachment and the impermanent moment is to comprehend the heart of sabi, which, again, is one of the central elements in all Japanese art, including kado. Grasping the description above is, of course, not so difficult. But to truly live in the present, uniting the mind and body in a moment transcending time, goes beyond written and verbal definitions. We therefore included in Chapter 2 forms of meditation--orenai te, muga ichi-nen ho, anjo daza ho--that point to the real ever-changing rhythm of nature that cannot be experienced by a mind caught in either the past or the future. Be sure to try them, and use them in conjunction with your kado practice. This Asian concept of impermanence has also given rise to a particular Japanese aesthetic concept called aware. In Suiseki: The Japanese Art of Miniature Landscape Stones, Felix G. Rivera defined aware as "when a moment, situation, or event evokes a more intense, nostalgic sadness connected with autumn and the vanishing of the world."6 That this is seen as a desirable quality (in contrast to how Westerners sometimes view the transient character of nature) is an indication of the special character of Japanese art. Oneness with the Universe   Humanity is no more separate from the universe than a wave is separate from the ocean. Naturally, each wave is unique and only exists for a brief moment. But every wave also originates in the ocean, flows up from it, and is absorbed by the ocean again. The ocean is the wave; the wave contains the essence of the ocean. They are one. Human beings are, in like manner, one with the universe. We contain the essential quality of the universe, or ki, within us and one could say that each person is a microcosm of the universe. You could also say this is nothing but mere words, which would be equally true. That's why this book offers substantive exercises, meditations, and compositions. Just as you cannot smell the scent of a flower via written description, you cannot deny or verify any of the material in this text merely by reading it. Actually understanding means being able to do what you claim to grasp. Theoretical understanding without firsthand experience only encourages a separation of mind and body--a conflicted condition in which the mind supposedly "knows," but the body cannot do. It leads to the illusion of comprehension instead of harmony (wa) with an absolute universe that is eternal and infinite. In this state of harmony, we directly perceive our similarly infinite and eternal nature. Harmony with the universe is an instant that is everlasting, beyond the shackles of time and beyond duality. Wa in kado is arrived at when you become sensitive to the growth patterns and characteristics of the plants you are working with. Certainly this relates to specific plants and flowers that are commonly used in flower arrangement, but on a deeper level it points toward harmony with the essence, or ki, of nature itself. Wabi and sabi are multifaceted principles that involve an asymmetrical balance that is actually nothing more than a reflection of nature. What's more, while kado does utilize set principles, this "unbalanced balance" assumes a different form in each and every arrangement. You cannot simply memorize it. True understanding of an artless balance that reflects nature comes through unity with the universe. Likewise, the simple, elegant aesthetics that are also associated with wabi are a reflection of nature, as is the sabi concept of aloneness and impermanence. Since these principles are derived from a genuine awareness of humankind's intimate connection with the universe, they should be ultimately true rather than contrived. In other words, they should not amount to an aesthetic based solely upon what was fashionable at a certain point in Japanese history. They never fall out of fashion, since they mirror the eternal aspect of nature. Understanding harmony, artlessness, and impermanence is never-ending, much like the infinite universe itself, and bona fide comprehension comes as we discover and reflect these states in ourselves. The Japanese Way of the Flower is out of print, but the entire book is available in the anthology The Japanese Way of the Artist which can be found at your favorite bookstore and on Amazon.com.