distant mountains

Last days

2008-12-11T07:50:00.008Z

To close this period of the blog, here are some photos from Kyoto. This is the Golden Pavilion.

This is the famous Zen garden, called Ryoan-ji and surrounding gardens.

This is the budo centre in the centre of Kyoto and I was very pleased to see many people wearing hakama, obviously on their way to training. From the kit bags that were being carried, I suspect naginata training was about to start.

Here are some images from the side streets of Kyoto.

Here is the ryokan I stayed in, which beats a Western hotel any day. There is something quite unique about sleeping on tatami mats and after a long day walking around in the rain and biting wind, the cosiness and austerity of the ryokan was exactly what was needed.

On Sunday I went to Shukoin Temple which is part of Myoshinji Temple. Myoshinji Temple is where Suzuki had many discussions regarding Zen buddhism and is seen as the place Rinzai Zen emerged from. This is Takafumi Kawakami, the vice abbot of the Temple who showed me Rinzai Zen's way of doing zazen. Here he is holding the kaiseki, which is used to strike monks on the shoulders at certain pressure points if they are getting sleepy, or their posture breaks during zazen. I enjoyed my time at Shunkoin as I was the only one there, which made it feel even more special.

Here is the Temple's garden. This garden, as with any proper Zen garden is a direct reflection of something in nature. This particular garden is a reflection of Heian shrine. It also has two bushes within the garden which represent the two Shinto creator gods, Izanami and Izanagi. He also explained how Shinto and Buddhism merged so well; Shinto did not have any standard ethical or moral precepts, whereas Buddhism did. So, when the two 'religions' met, they married together quite easily.

He then showed me a room which was painted about 350-400 years ago, representing the four virtues of Confucianism.

I spoke with him about my interest in wabi sabi and he then led me into a room which was not usually shown to the public. Here we did a very informal tea ceremony, or chado, which was very beautiful and profound. I feel that this time at the Temple has been one of the most personally transformative moments of my time in Japan and seemed to concretise the trip.

So, today is my final day on Awaji island. I sat and watched the sunset and reflected on my experience, both in learning moku hanga and also how philosophically my ideas have shifted since leaving London. I will be sad to leave, but am now part of the 'Nagasawa family' as Keiko-san said earlier today. I have also been invited back in 2010 for a conference on moku hanga, which I am excited about. I am now looking ahead to the future and am excited about the potential for moku hanga in my work. It will be interesting to see how the next year or so unfolds.

There and back again..

2008-12-04T08:43:00.003Z

After a radical re-think of the triptych, I decided that what had been printed so far was too based in representation and in a sense not at all the meditative images I wanted to achieve [not as a triptych anyway]. It was as if I was resolving the work for the viewer. I wanted to remove my 'opinions' from within the work and make it more reflective. So, here are the finished pieces, which I am happy with. I created two more kimonos and then inspired by the tokonoma zen scrolls, which hang in alcoves during the tea ceremony and other places such as ryokans, mounted them on paper with three different, barely visible landscapes sitting at the bottom edge. I like the geometry of the final pieces and look forward to seeing them framed. They will be in a show in Japan next year and then maybe Russia the year after that.

Tomorrow I am going to Kyoto for four days. On Sunday I am going to Shunkoin Temple to do zazen meditation and take part in the tea ceremony. I am really looking forward to this and it will be a nice personal farewell to Japan. I have decided to not plan very much apart from that one trip and instead let Kyoto itself guide me round. I am not going with any expectations and I think this is a good plan. That way, anything can happen and probably will.

My mind is starting to think about home once more and hopefully inspiring people at work and elsewhere to try moku hanga. Out of all the printing techniques I have learnt, this is by far the most challenging, but, I think, the most diverse in terms of end result. The iridori inks I have been using are very different to regular watercolour pigment, so that has provided an extra challenge. It will be interesting to see what happens when I get back to the Royal Academy after Christmas and I look forward to seeing everyone there again.

Autumnal shades

2008-11-29T08:47:00.005Z

Asa and I went for a quiet walk today, to take in the Autumnal shift in colour. It was a reminder that I do not have long left in Japan and the chill in the air reminded me of home.

Kokoro 2

2008-11-27T17:00:00.004Z

Here is the last image in the tryptych. This one is number two. First, I started with a grey square double printed.

I then added a second layer, which had two colours. A strip at the top, two blocks of grey and a bokashi-like element halfway down.

I then added a third layer, which had three colours. Firstly, the gold kanji running down the centre. I also embossed this layer. A blue layer which went over the grey layer, two silver squares which are also embossed and finally a gold line at the top within the blue block of colour.

All very mysterious, until it is folded into a kimono. Then the colours make sense. This was a bit tough to work out technically, but it seems to capture the austerity I was after with this final image. The kanji reads 'mime yori kokoro', or in English, the spirit [or heart] is more important than appearance.

Sunset

2008-11-26T15:30:00.006Z

I have recently been taking pictures of the sunsets here in the mountains for documentary purposes as living in London doesn't provide anywhere near this kind of colour array. The sun is at its most spectacular at 4.30pm, when it starts to sink down over the horizon. The days here pass so quickly that it is important for me to not only notice my progress in printmaking, but also the surrounding environs. Winter has arrived, the nights are drawing in and over on the far mountain a shower of red is emerging as the maple trees start their descent into sleep. Over the last three days I have taken 150 pictures of the sunset. Here are a few of these beautiful, temporal moments that I hope will stay with me for a long time. These are all taken from my view out of the studio window.

Nagasawa festival and Awaji puppet theatre company

2008-11-23T09:09:00.011Z

Today was the Nagasawa Festival. The artists took part in running a workshop organised by Masahiro-san and Keiko san for the children of the local school. We collected leaves from the local temple..

And then had two large scrolls of paper on which the artists drew trees with animals in..

The children then glued the leaves onto the trees. There was a wonderful sense of community about the day which I really enjoyed. I tend to work 12 or so hours a day and the weeks blend into the weekends, so it was nice to do something totally different. It was nice to feel part of the bigger picture of Nagasawa.

Here are the finished images. I like the way that the images were framed against the backdrop of the mountains.

Awaji puppet theatre then came to give some performances and talks for us. The puppet theatre's ethos is very closely linked to that of Noh and Kabuki [traditional Japanese theatre]. During the performances, the puppeteers wear black masks, so the focus is on the puppets. I liked the eeriness of this effect. Like all traditional Japanese arts, it takes years to master, as each body movement can suggest a mood or atmosphere. I am very drawn to the aesthetics and philosophy of Noh, so enjoyed the puppet show tremendously. Like Noh, the puppet performances are seen as a prayer in front of the gods, so at the beginning, wooden sticks are clapped together to attract the attention of the deities.

Here a character is being brought to life.

At the side of the show, sat an orator and an instrumentalist. They both explained their parts in creating the show. The orator demonstrated different voices that he uses to convey different parts that are played. Even though the entire afternoon was in Japanese, I understood quite a bit of what was being said. I seem to be understanding how Japanese sounds and it is not that difficult to ascertain meaning.

The orator reads from a book, which is shown here, alongside the drum.

The puppeteers then showed us their role in the performances, including how the puppets are animated. It takes three people to animate each puppet. The two pictures below show the different states of one mask. He pulled a lever and the face changed completely.

These shoes are used by the actors to elevate themselves if the character needs to be raised into the air, for example if it is walking [as a human], or flying [as an element or spirit].

Here, the performers are demonstrating how the puppet works, showing us different expressions.

We were then very honoured to be invited to experience trying to work one of the puppets.

The puppeteers then put on a short performance for us, to finish the day.

Kokoro 3

2008-11-22T23:35:00.002Z

Here is the next image from the kokoro tryptych. This is going to be number 3. The background was printed with antique green going into antique black. The same pallette as before has been used - the Iridori Holbein colours. On this and the subsequent block, no nori has been used. This is to texturise the image.

Then a blue layer.

Then a gold and yellow layer.

Then a brown layer.

Then a purple layer to bring out detail on the hat.

Finally a grey/black layer, which provides the shadow on the hat and the outline of the face and the front line of the kimono. There is also a small amount of magenta on the lips.

This image is based on a traditional Japanese dance to celebrate the end of Autumn. So far the two images have been the head and the feet. Now to complete the tryptych one final image is required, that of the heart.

First image of tryptych..

2008-11-19T01:09:00.022Z

This is the first is a series of three images called 'kokoro' or in kanji, 心. I am using Holbein 'Iridori' pigment for this image. Iridori is a type of Japanese painting and all the colours are sampled from the pallet used for this type of work. This is the first layer, which is yellow followed by gold.

Then the second layer which is light blue followed by dark blue whilst it was still wet. This starts to give the appearance of material. There are bokashi [gradient] layers on both the blue and yellow, to suggest a slightly ethereal mood.

I then put a bokashi with no nori on the bottom of the image. I used a Sumi baren [a baren for detailed lines; there is another baren called a be-ta, which is for more solid areas] with a horizontal movement instead of the usual circular motion, which gives a flat colour, to create the texture. On this layer in particular the grooves of the bamboo skin covering the baren can be seen. I deliberately rotated the skin so it would create this effect. This block also had the shadows cut on, to begin to give the hakama folds some depth.

Then, another bokashi on a seperate layer to build up the background. Again, two passes, one with light brown and then one with gold.

I then printed a solid colour onto the background to make the entire image pop forward. I then overprinted a white band to illuminate the image. I then printed the shadows underneath the feet on a separate layer, first with silver and then grey. I didn't like the way the background looked like an abstract shape, so the image was then cropped down to create the impression of space either side. This also focuses in on the hakama patterning and the movement of the feet, instead of the positioning on a stage.

Residency..

2008-11-16T14:16:00.005Z

As promised a couple of days ago, here are some pictures of the residency studio. This is the view over Awaji from where my desk is.

This is the studio.

And finally my desk. Here all my brushes and carving implements are laid out ready for work.

And finally, this is one of the new blocks I have been working on since we moved studio on Monday. I am creating three images, based on some of the patterns within Noh theatre. By patterns I mean both of the costumes that are worn during the performances and the patterns of movement that the actors use. This is a five block print which will be built up in twelve passes. This is the keyblock, or to use laymans terms, the block that is printed first and every other block aligned to.

Underneath the pond

2008-11-16T02:42:00.010Z

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.

Monasticism and the moon.

2008-11-12T15:07:00.007Z

Here in Japan there have been many special moments. They are fleeting, somewhat poetic and difficult to describe. On Monday we moved into the studio at the residency to continue our work. It took a day to get into a new routine but now I have everything where I need it to be and am pretty settled. My most enjoyable moments are in the evenings at around 10.30pm when everyone else has headed off to bed or are in their rooms catching up with family and friends back home by email. I use this time to be in the studio and for an hour or so, it feels very meditative. I am able to gather my thoughts from the day, sift them and focus on my woodcuts. I switch all the lights off apart from my overhead lamp and for that period of time, it seems that there is nothing but the wood, the image and whatever I am doing to the image. I'm not even really aware of myself whilst it is happening. I seem to be producing very precise work at this time of night, so will be using this time in the future for delicate work that needs the correct mindset.

I took this picture of the moon tonight. It seemed particularly bright. Living in a big city back home, there is too much light to get a moon shadow. Tonight everything was lit up by its delicate rays and I saw my own silhouette on the ground. It was one of those nights when everything was as it should be; timeless and yet rooted very firmly in the present.

Repairing the baren

2008-11-09T02:27:00.009Z

Today was Ueba sensei's last day.

So, we had a lesson in repairing the baren, which is the piece of equipment used to press the ink into the paper. The baren cover is made from bamboo.

First, warm water is added to a bucket and then the bamboo skin is soaked for one minute. This is to loosen the fibres and stop it breaking when it is stretched over the baren.

The skin is then stretched with the back of a spoon and then the baren is placed on the bamboo.

Then, each side of the skin is twisted round and onto the top of the baren.

The skin is then held in place with a piece of string.

The two long end bits you can see here are then snipped off. I shall come back to this in a minute.

Then we were showed some different types of woodblock prints by Ueba sensei.

I thought I would take one final picture of the landscape outside of the studio. The mist was swirling round the hills and looked particularly wonderful.

Later on in the day, Ueba sensei taught us how to make our own brushes for carrying the ink and nori [rice paste]. When one repairs a baren, the two end bits that are left from twisting the skin onto the baren can be made into small brushes. First, the bamboo pieces are left with one end dipped in water for a week. Then, these ends are hit with a hammer. The whole thing is threaded onto a cut-down chopstick and tied tightly with string. This saves a lot of money on small brushes and shows that nothing is wasted.

Ueba sensei wa sutajio ni kimashita.

2008-11-05T09:37:00.011Z

Today, Ueba sensei from Kyoto arrived to teach us the basics of printing. First, nori [rice paste which carries the ink] and the ink are spread onto the image with a brush as you can see from the image. These blocks which are being used to demonstrate the process are the images I have been cutting over the last couple of days.

The ink is then tested on the paper to see if it is the right colour.

The paper is then placed onto the paper. On the left hand side of the wood a 'kento' line has been cut. This is an L shaped cut which enables the printer to align the paper with the image. A similar line is cut on all the blocks of wood, so each colour will match up with the previous one. This takes careful planning and is not as simple as it sounds. There is also a second kento line on the bottom of the piece of wood, which aligns the bottom edge of the paper. Here, sensei is aligning the left hand kento, showing the correct position of the hands when holding the paper.

Now sensei aligns the bottom kento line. This is shown quite clearly in the following image.

A baren is then used to rub over the back of the paper, making the image cling to the paper.

This is the finished keyline [outline] print.

Now the second colour is prepared. The block is wetted with a mizubake [waterbrush] and then dabbed with a cloth.

Nori paste is being applied here. Sensei gave us some brushes today which are made out of crushed bamboo. The yellow colour can also be seen on the block. The nori paste which carries the pigment, and the pigment are then brushed over the block to provide an even layer.

Here is the second colour.

Now the third colour is applied in exactly the same way as the previous blocks.

The paper is placed on the kento lines and the baren rubbed over the surface.

Here is the third colour finished. Then I got to have a go with the final colour.

Here is my attempt at printing in the same way that sensei did. Not ideal, but better than I have been. My attitude now is that every time I cut a new line, or print a new colour, it is a little better than the one before.

Then sensei showed us some woodblock prints, to give us some inspiration as to what our work could look like. These are some Japanese dolls.

Here the class are enjoying green tea, whilst looking over the wonderful array of images that sensei brought for us to see.

Here is a close up of one of the images, with a process called 'itabo-kashi' exemplified. Itabo-kashi is a technique where colours can fade into one another, or fade out completely. This is done by varying the amount of ink on the wood, so it is not evenly spread out. For example, it could just be put along the top of the wood, so when it is printed, it creates a gradient effect. Itabo-kashi basically means gradient. This effect makes prints look more like paintings and I am having to start to think in this way. My old ideas about printmaking [and many other things] are slowly being thrown out of the metaphorical window.

Here is a woodblock print of the Buddha.

Here, Asa tries to understand the complexities of itabo-kashi and how she could use it in her work.

Folklore and Noh..

2008-11-03T11:51:00.007Z

Sunday 2nd November. Today we were taken further afield on Awaji island. We went to the local folk museum where we were shown an example of an authentic Edo period house. The image below is taken from inside the house.

Awaji was ravaged by an earthquake and this picture below is from a museum, which was built over the site of the fault line. Here, scientists can study how earthquakes operate. In the picture it can be seen how the tectonic plates had shifted during the quake.

These are some pictures taken from the City Hall, where we had met the mayor a couple of weeks ago. The bonsai exhibition is part of a wider cultural festival that took place over the weekend.

This is a view taken from outside the local onsen.

Sunday evening. At sunset, we went to see a Noh play at Izanagi shrine. Here is the entrance to the Noh play.

This photo was taken inside the shrine, where the play was being performed.

Here a Shinto blessing is being performed on stage. In Noh, the stage is the place where the seen and unseen worlds meet. Dramas are played out where human actors try and resolve obstacles before the gods. Usually, there is only one piece of scenery, which is a pine tree painted on the back wall. This tree is the place where the gods 'descend' to and the play is performed as an offering to the gods.

On Wednesday the master printer comes to teach us until Friday. We then move all our equipment to the residency for the five remaining weeks.

Awaji island walk..

2008-11-01T05:38:00.006Z

Today I went out for a walk with Asa, one of the other artists to look round a part of the local area we hadn't seen. Here are some of the local sights.

We have one more week in the Nagasawa studio and then we move all our equipment to the residency to work. At least then we won't have to get up at 6am every morning. I am looking forward to tomorrow when we are going to the Earthquake museum [Awaji was devastated by one a little over 10 years ago] a bonsai museum and then the Noh play.

The eagle in the photograph lives in the trees next door to the house.

day 12 - Sekioka sensei returns home..

2008-10-30T11:19:00.006Z

Today, Sekioka sensei returned home, but not before letting us have a go with cutting 'sakura no ki'..cherry wood. It was very difficult indeed to cut through the wood as it is very tough. This is great for making very detailed images, but our hangi-to knives were too wide to do it. He then allowed me to use one of his knives and it became a lot easier.

He then showed us the correct way to sharpen our knives, using a set of stones that go from very rough to very smooth. These stones have to be soaked in water before use, and then kept wet, otherwise they can damage the blades.

From left to right..back row - Dyan, Keiko-san. Middle row - myself and Michael. Front row, Elettra, Sekioka sensei and Asa. The tatami mats we are sitting on are actually quite comfortable now. We have to sit in seiza for 7 hours of the day [for those who don't know, the people in the front row of the photograph are sitting in seiza - it is the traditional Japanese way and is quite nice once one's legs get used to it], so this is a good thing.

Here sensei shows us the traditional way of sitting to do moku hanga. This is a moku hanga table which is slightly angled. I am going to see if I can get one of these [or make one] for when I get home. I can't really imagine making moku han prints whilst seated at a western style table now, it would seem quite odd to do so.

Regular readers may remember a picture I posted a couple of days ago showing the first cuts from my new block. Since then I abandoned that block [I started cutting it before Sekioka sensei came to teach us] and this is the new block, cut down to the second layer of plywood. I don't think I have done that bad a job.

On Sunday, we are going to a bonsai museum and then to a shrine, where there will be an outdoor Noh theatre performance. I think I might use the photographs from that as part of the work I will be making over the next six weeks.

day 10 - carving instruction

2008-10-28T12:07:00.005Z

Today, we met Sekioka sensei, the carving instructor. He told us that his father had been a printer and his grandfather was also a carver, so it has been in his family for a number of generations. He said that his father's woodblocks were destroyed during the war. But before all that, here is the now obligatory image of the local landscape. We get the local bus at 8.10 am which gets us to the studio at a time of day when the light is beautiful. So, here once more are the fields outside the studio, but this time early in the morning.

Here is Sekioka sensei, who is showing us how the keyline blocks are created. Traditionally, the original artwork is pasted onto the block using nori [rice glue] and then while it is still wet, the drawing is peeled back, leaving the outline on the block. If the drawing is not peeled back, it is difficult to see it on the block, so it must be done carefully to only remove the top layer of paper, otherwise the drawing will be destroyed. Here he holds a print taken from a block, with the area in orange going to be the next colour [in this case red]. So, the artwork is pasted down, the outline cut and then printed for the amount of colours needed. Then, each block is pasted face down and the colour blocks cut ready for printing.

Here is one of the blocks that Sekioka sensei has cut. You can see the detail of the line.

Here, he demonstrates how to cut the block. The hangi-to, or outline knife, is placed at 45* to each side of the line and cut.

Here is a practice sheet, which is given to apprentices to learn how to carve. As you can see, it is very intricate.

Here, sensei is removing the excess wood from either side of the line, leaving the raised area which is printed.

Here, Keiko-san and sensei are discussing the finer points of cutting a grid shaped object on the block. Consider that what they are speaking about is in fact about 1.5cm wide on a block he has just drawn on. You can see the numbers on the grid, which show the correct order of cutting so as not to destroy the line on the block.

Here is an example of sensei's work.

Here are some Edo period woodblock prints that were shown to us.

Here, Keiko-san is showing us the various stages of printing a 14 plate image and there was a very interesting talk about the relationship between publisher, artist, carver and printer. Basically, the more money one has, the more complex prints can be made because of the timescale involved. This was explained as a historical reference, where rich men would get very complex private prints made for them, which they swopped with other people of similar financial position.

Here sensei shows how each block adds another layer to the image of the geisha.

At present we are cutting on plywood. As plywood is made up of a few layers, with alternating grains..ie. the top layer grain goes one way and the next layer down goes the other, we need to be cutting into the second layer. This gives the block more stability. But, we mustn't carve along the grain because it is difficult to do. So, instead of being aware of the top layer of plywood, we must carve in accordance with the second layer down, which we cannot see. The hangi-to must go down to this layer. Otherwise, thin lines will break up and the block will not be strong. I had never heard this information before, so we took some time working out how to carve lines, but being aware of the layer of plywood we could not actually see.

Here, sensei showed us how to cut a line that tapers to a point without destroying it. It is quite delicate work and amply demonstrated why it takes six years just to train as a carver. We all felt quite priviledged to be in his company today and reams of notes were taken by all with complex diagrams to remind us of how we should correctly prepare and carve the wood and how to properly use our tools.

day 9 self-study..

2008-10-27T13:27:00.003Z

Today has been a day of self-study, where we work by ourselves on new work. I think it was yesterday that I mentioned I didn't know what my new work was going to be about, but today it became clear. It is all about systems, forms and a new way of looking at the world. The geometric shapes are based on the local landscape, Shinto architecture and the colours are exactly what I see on a daily basis here on Awaji island. The last picture is the black 'block' being carved. Each colour has its own block which will be printed separately. We are all looking forward to meeting the master printer tomorrow.

a walk round the local area

2008-10-26T11:02:00.006Z

Today was the first day that we have explored the local area. We were all too tired from the week to do very much yesterday, so we rested. Here are some pictures from todays walk.

This image is from a temple, where it is a requirement to wash one's hands before entering. The water must be poured over one's hands and onto the floor, not back into the fount.

This is from the graveyard over the road from the temple. This is a very ornate grave with many tiny graves making up the collection. We took a wild guess and thought it was probably a local family's site.

On Awaji, a lot of the residents are farmers. This grave is marked with the farmers hat and walking shoes, used in the fields with the sticks probably used to demarcate his crops.

Here is the entry to another local temple where we met the monks. I bought a beautiful book of ink drawings that the monks had made.

Here the rice is drying ready to be harvested.

This area was outside the temple. This bridge had many prayer plaques hanging off it.

This is on the walk back home to the residency showing typical Japanese country architecture.

I found the colours on this flower amazing. It looked like it was lit from within.

More rice fields being harvested.

Tomorrow we have a 'self-study' day before the master carver arrives on Tuesday. I decided before the residency not to plan any new work, or bring any of my ideas with me, but instead respond to the locale. I am glad I made this decision. Things in Japan function with what is known as 'katachi', which means form. From bonsai, to greeting people, to making tea to martial arts. They are all governed by strict rules of how things should be. At first they can seem a little strict, but it is gradually becoming clear that these structures and forms are reflections of nature and are actually very natural and make total sense when one knows the reasoning behind them. So, my work in Japan will be an investigation into form and structure. Of what, I do not know as there are so many forms to observe, from the geometry of the landscape to the interiors of houses and everything inbetween, that it is hard to decide. It will become clear when I start drawing tommorow.

Three colour separation.

2008-10-25T01:33:00.006+01:00

Today we learnt how to make a three colour separation image. We first started by drawing an image with three colours. Then, we traced each colour and used carbon paper to transfer this onto three separate blocks of wood. These were then cut out and printed, light colour first, going to darkest colour, one on top of each other. First though, here are some pictures of the local landscape, just outside the studio door.

The rice is being harvested at the moment.

Maiko sensei went back to Kyoto today. She had only come to run a three day workshop. She is in the photo above with the black jumper. Next Tuesday a master carver is coming to start to refine our technique and teach us more traditional methods of printing. Then, the following week we have a master printer coming to spend a week with us, to show us how to print properly. Then we have three weeks of 'self-study' which is where we make the three editions of prints that we have to donate to the Awaji island. Below are the pictures of the woodblock print process.

These spiders are everywhere and are pretty huge.

I have noticed that I am far less wordy recently. I am hoping the photographs speak for themselves and tell a far better story than any words could possibly describe.

First day of printing at Nagasawa studio..

2008-10-23T10:03:00.009+01:00

Today's schedule went something like this..visit Shinto shrine which is next to the studio we are working in, leave offering for a safe and harmonious residency and then work until 5pm learning the basics of Japanese printmaking. On this particular diary entry, I am going to let the images speak for themselves. Here you can see the beautiful landscape surrounding the studio - Autumn has set in here and the mist was rising off the mountains. You can also see Keiko-san and Maiko-sensei teaching us how to print. There are also some pictures of me at the mountain god shrine.

day 2 and 3 - Awaji island

2008-10-21T12:35:00.005+01:00

Awaji is extremely remote. The residency is on a mountainside which makes access somewhat difficult. Today we met the mayor of Awaji who stressed the importance of the residency for international relations. I was suddenly reminded of how honoured we are to have been invited to the island. We had a brief meeting this morning with Keiko-san [the program director], who then presented us with the tools we will need for the residency. I had assumed that we would be borrowing them for the duration, but each of us was given them as a gift in a box. We have to learn all the Japanese names for the tools. You can see them in the pictures below. Just to give a brief idea, collectively they are worth a couple of hundred pounds as a set and will last us a lifetime as they have been made by master craftsmen. It was quite a humbling moment, which the other artists also felt. This afternoon we went to see the residency for the first time, of which there will be pictures tommorow. We then went to a Shinto shrine and left offerings for the mountain gods, for health, harmony and a prosperous time in Japan. To say that nothing can quite prepare one for the impact of Japan is an understatement. Below are pictures of the journey to Awaji, the residence building, the meeting with the mayor and the woodcut tools gift.

Osaka ni imasu!

2008-10-20T00:34:00.010+01:00

Well, I reached Osaka at 3pm yesterday afternoon after a wonderful flight on Japan Airlines. One of the main differences is the hospitality. Outside the airport, men and women wearing pristine white gloves assist your every move. I got into a taxi and as we left the airport, a man in white gloves bowed to the cab. London could learn a lot from the Japanese.

I have attached some pictures of my first little perambulation around the nearby locale. Directly over the road from the hotel is a Zen temple, which of course I had to go and visit. After going in and washing my hands, I took some pictures which capture the serene ambience of the place.

There are also vending machines everywhere. On one of the pictures is a little old woman, who's job it is to clean them with a tiny brush. She then picked out trapped dirt on the machines with chopsticks, which you can see her doing on one of the photos. I have spoken to a few people that have had deep culture shock on arriving in Japan, but for me, there is nothing unusual about the way people are acting. I don't find the bowing at all strange and my Japanese is sufficient to get by, so I feel very much at home.

In a couple of hours, I am off to Awaji shima, where the residency will begin. But for now, please enjoy the photographs. You can click on them to see the larger versions.

Gradings

2008-10-03T08:16:00.012+01:00

There are some whose lives within the martial arts seem to be dominated by 'winning'. I don't mean winning a match, as in Kendo, but winning over others. This is a very strange attitude to have and seems to go against the core tenets of training to develop the self. For example, I have heard people say, 'when I get to 4th Dan...' and then go on to explain something they will be able to do at that level. This strikes me as slightly odd. If the point of training is to get better at the art one has chosen, why worry about 'being 4th Dan'. When one's eyes are focused too far down the path, one will miss the subleties of the present moment which are essential for progress. After all, Japanese martial arts have the word 'Do' tagged onto the end of the word. Ken-do, Jo-do, Iai-do, Aiki-do and so on. 'Do' means 'way', which implies that the martial art is assisting us with our lives in general, it is the path itself we should be walking on and studying. If one trains well, then gradings will occur naturally and in time with one's progress and need not to be worried about.

But what does a grading success actually mean? At 'lower' levels, it is about getting the kata [Iaido forms] in the right order and demonstrating the correct etiquette - there is no point worrying about 'ki-ken-tai-ichi' [spirit, sword, mind as one] at 6th kyu. First things first. For Dan levels, it means that on the day, one has demonstrated satisfactorily that they have been 'present' at all the training times to understand the subtleties of timing, distance and show spirit and vigour amongst a myriad of other things as training gets progressively more difficult. These other developments occur naturally as training progresses and one cannot pretend to have them. If one tries to, they are exposed in the dojo as errors. The qualities of fighting spirit and natural confidence are very different to arrogant posturing and pretension. One interesting observation about training in the dojo is that these errors are exposed as a matter of course and that the iaidoka tends to reveal one's own flaws naturally, rather than the teacher dragging them out and making them public. People's personalities and true motivations really shine through in their Iaido.

At higher levels still, one's Iaido should be a demonstration of one's character. By this point, training should be solidly manifesting itself in life outside of the dojo. For me, this is what true training is; a refinement of the character by relentless practice and repetition. If one's mind is located in the next grading 'success' then one surely cannot be living in the present enough to be able to apply the principles learned to what needs to be attended to right now. If one is 'competing' with others to get to a certain grade, to me this seemed flawed thinking. It has been taught to me that when one walks out onto the floor for an examination, one should already be at that level. It is then just a process of demonstrating that to the examining board. It then follows that speaking of 'when I am [X]th Dan', is meaningless because the individual has to change into a person with those particular qualities by hard work. If one does not have those qualities now, one cannot make such a statement.

To me, this seems to go much deeper than just wanting to be [X]th Dan. This seems to be a symptom of a desperate need to attach oneself to a particular label and to feel superior to others. Outside of the dojo, to people who do not understand martial arts, grades mean very little [at least in the West anyway]. People are far more likely to judge one's character and manner. These are the things that should be developed within the dojo and then demonstrated in the 'outside world'. To turn to an employer and say ,'well as a 4th Dan...', this would seem slightly arrogant and inconsequential. And yet, grading chasers seem to attach their personality to the next certificate or competition win as if this somehow gives them a general edge over others.

For me, gradings are about an objective measure of where the martial artist has arrived at by natural, slow progression. People I know who are at the higher levels of training, on the whole, tend to be very gracious and do not laud their grade status over others. They tend to be teachers and enjoy working with new people. They tend to be calm, reacting correctly in situations by 'seeing the bigger picture' rather than putting their own progression first. They tend to 'group-think' rather than 'self-think'. They tend to not be dominated by their emotions and have the ability of critical self-analysis without beating themselves up about things they have no control over. They tend towards a warm and giving character and all these characteristics have arisen naturally as a result of putting one's heart as well as one's mind into dojo life. Surely these are the qualities one should be working towards and trying to emulate, as opposed to training just to collect certificates.

There is a Zen story of a group of students who asked a Zen roshi what the moon was. So the roshi pointed at the moon and said 'There it is'. The students looked at the end of the roshi's pointing finger, mistaking it for the moon. To some, certificates and a misdirected notion of status look very like the end of a finger if viewed with rose tinted spectacles. After all, Iaido is about being natural, rather than being bogged down by thinking errors, unnecessary concerns about the future and one's competitive position in relation to others. I have a very good 7th Dan teacher who tends to point the finger back at myself, revealing my strengths as well as weaknesses and keeps me on the 'path'.

"The hard and strong gives way to the soft and yielding".

遠山の目付

2008-10-01T12:02:00.005+01:00

The title of this post means 'gazing at distant mountains'. An Iaido term which means 'looking everywhere but nowhere in particular'. It is the state of mind that is desirable, meaning one is not distracted by, or attached to, one particular thing. The mind is not gripped by fear, the eyes are not blocking out what they do not want to see and as a result, the Iaido practitioner is free to move in whichever way is appropriate to defeat the 'attacker'. It means that the mind is calm and relaxed but simultaneously poised for movement should the need arise. Personally, I would describe this state as one of 'openess'.

This blog has arisen by the need to document an upcoming journey to Japan in two weeks. As an artist, I have been very lucky to be invited to Awaji island, off the coast of Osaka, to learn traditional Japanese woodblock printmaking techniques. The environment I am going to is very remote, far away from the perils of modernism that befall London where I presently live. So, these pages will be used to try and communicate, from both a personal and professional point of view, the process of going to, and returning from, Japan. It will also be used to discuss some of the ideas that have arisen from within my own practice of Iaido - without which, it would have never crossed my mind to go on the residency. Iaido opened up a new way of seeing the world which influenced my decision to go to Japan to explore more of the origins of the mindset that Iaido emerged from.