Underneath the pond

Yesterday we went to the Water Temple built by renowned architect Tadao Ando. He designed the temple to be underground, beneath a 41m wide pond of lilies. Here is the entrance.





Here are the steps down to the temple.



Here is the inner sanctum. The fact that above my head lotus flowers were blossoming in the pond was not lost in the occasion.







Outside there was a small shrine. As usual, I left offerings and a prayer. Making the shrines a way of connecting to what I am doing with my woodblocks is having an effect. The simple stillness and austerity of the places create an inner silence, which feeds into the work. It's nice when the shrines are in places where there is no noise. There are lots of them hidden away at the side of the road and searching them out brings their reward. They also demand a certain respect, such as keeping a low voice and acting in a manner fit for the environment.


I enjoy seeing the seasons change as I visit each shrine. It serves to act as a timely reminder that everything changes and turns into something else. The drawing in of the cold nights of winter reminds me of home and the onset of Christmas, but also the temporality of any problems I may be having with my work, or life in general. For me, shrines are places where the past exists as fleeting memories, rooting me firmly in the presentness of the moment. Places where tradition and the modern world can live harmoniously, as long as one remembers the other.



I will be going to Kyoto in three weeks to spend four days looking round some of the sacred sites in the locale. I will be staying here.
I want to go to Tozando, which is a shop specialising in Japanese swords and Iaido equipment and I have a few things to buy for people from my dojo. I am looking forward to the trip as it will be a nice farewell to a country I am starting to love very deeply. I then get back from Kyoto on the 8th December and fly back to the UK on the 13th in time for Christmas.