The Play Of Water Birds

Papers in the river

Some float, others do not –

Out breath spirals into the world.

Do not bring the darkness

Past the stone set there,

Here its only light and air.

An exchange of kisses,

Only two –

It holds a balance

At the place when they meet.

A Coot cutting through glass water

Light patterns arcing light and dark –

Slanting October sun in it all.

There is no one here

Other than the bank side poet  

No one at all.

The reeds bending to the right

The song of the young Alder

The layering of light and sound.

Nothing held still

Blue sky, white clouds, broken water skin

The Moorhen seeing it all as food.

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On Chinese Landscape Painting and Japanese Gardens. Part 3/5

Technique and its application

‘Correspondence with the object’ in painting, was not interpreted by the painters as a call for absolute realism, that is, for landscapes to be reproduced in rigid exactitude. Rather as the painting tradition developed in China the tendency was to move toward placing spiritual values above realistic expression. The way of recreating landscape in a painting was to find a way of allowing the landscape to unfold itself in a manner that to allowed the viewer to participate in the process. In a single picture we can be presented with a multiple of viewpoints as there is no adherence to a rigid system of a singular point of view with a corresponding vanishing point as one would find in Western perspective. The painting unfolds before us because we are moving about within that landscape seeing it first from one position and then from another. This movement, the shifting of perspective, is what allows us to participate in a journey amidst the landscape being presented. The landscape we experience is created layer upon layer, each layer superimposing experience over experience, until we are saturated in the landscape. At that point we then belong to the landscape and the landscape belongs to us

Joei-ji, designed by Sesshu.

Both painters and garden creators are concerned with the representation of depth in a composition.  Garden creators have an advantage in that they are working in three dimensions, whereas painters have a flat, two dimensional, space to work in. Depth is the key to allow the eye and mind of the viewer to roam, to move about in a composition. For the garden creator this may be physical as well as purely visually.

Guo Xi - Level Distance

With the garden our experience is nuanced and layered, and because the garden is a three-dimensional creation its relationship to the viewer becomes spatially more complex. If in a painting the ability of the viewer to ‘move’ through the landscape is an interiorized capacity, in the garden it becomes exteriorized and interiorized by body and mind as a whole. Even with those gardens that are viewed from a building the viewer is able to register depth in a garden composition in a more visceral manner.

Guo Xi - 'observing from above'

When we look at the paintings it is clear that there is a strong underlying organisation of the constituent parts of a composition. The most obvious manner in which this is done is by the use of triadic, asymmetrical, composition. That is, through the organisation of the principal elements according to triangular relationships between them. Very often in a painting the particular components elements of the painting are broken down into groups of three. Within the group of three, one element stands out as being the primary and the other two parts play a supportive role. This relationship is often expressed as ‘Host and Guest”. Li Cheng 李成 (919–967) a Sung dynasty painter puts it this way: “In painting landscapes, one should decide first upon the positions of the host and guest mountains and then on the relative distance of objects. After that he (the painter) can mark out the scenery and the objects, and arrange the high and low.”

           

In East Asian art perspective is not expressed in the linear (straight line) manner in which it is normally expressed in Western art., where perspective lines extend towards a notional horizon where they are swallowed by a vanishing point. In nature, in wildness, there are no straight lines. Rivers meander and forests are not composed of trees growing in regimented order equidistant from one another. There is a more subtle, flexible organisation, which speaks a language of interrelation and interaction between elements. It is an organisation that is organic, dynamic, ever shifting and developing according to constantly varying environmental conditions; the path of the sun, the shape of the landscape itself. Chinese painting reflects this quality very well.

Looking Up From Below.

Observing Landscape From Above.

Painters used what has been called the ‘three perspectives’[1]. This was first formulated by the painter Guo Xi 郭熙 (1020-1090), and he referred to it as ‘floating perspective’. In his method the viewer is looking at the landscape from three different places: in the first he/she is looking up into the landscape from below. In the second the viewer observes the landscape as if floating some way above it all. In the third view (‘level distance’) the viewer regards the landscape from a high vantage point with the landscape stretching away into the far distance. These perspective effects can be found in the rock composition of the Daisen-in garden. In most cases the painters would evoke one or two of these forms of perspective, though in some cases all three were used in the same painting. In the paintings and gardens vertical lines suggest the relative position of forms and imply a sense of depth.  Horizontal lines establish stability and give balance to the composition, while transitions and connections in the various elements of the composition are indicated by diagonal movement. Outlines soften with increasing distance from the source, detail is lost, and shape begins to dissolve in air and space. Both painter and garden creator practice the arts of illusion, as both seek to capture and express the mystery of essence.

Level Distance.

Sen-no-Rikyu (千利休 1522 - 1591) the great tea master was also a builder of gardens. He taught a system of composition (‘Distance-lowering style’ saki sagari) in gardens in which larger trees were planted in the foreground, and lower ones in the background, thus assisting the effect of perspective distance, a particularly desirable advantage in small gardens. Also he utilised larger leaved planting in foreground areas, and smaller, finer, leaved planting in the background  On the same principle, he also taught that more distant hills should be made lower than the nearer ones, and the level of artificial water made higher in the background than in the foreground. Furuta Oribe (古田 重然, 1544 - 1615) used just the opposite notion (‘Distance Raising style’, saki agari) in his tea gardens to create a sense of depth, though this would not work quite so well in small spaces.

Ryoan-ji

Allied to the three perspectival views a painting was also divided into quite distinct sections representing foreground, middle-ground and background. Again this is a way to order the space, creating and representing the internal logic of the landscape being rendered. It addresses the way a landscape unfolds in relationship to the viewer, the eye being lead on from one plane on towards the next. This is evident in looking at a garden such as at the Tenryu-ji Hõjõ. The scenery unfolds sympathetically in respect of the position of the viewer, enhancing the inclusion of the viewer as being part of the scenery itself, not divorced from it. Looking at a painting or garden we can then subliminally recognise ourselves as being part of the landscape, it (the landscape) becomes an extension of our self. As landscape we stand surrounded by all that is landscape.

Tenryu-ji, Kyoto

We can deal with shakkei (借景) or ‘borrowed scenery’ here too. Shakkei is the incorporation of elements of the landscape beyond the garden perimeter into part of the overall composition which the garden represents. It is a device that the garden creators would have seen used in paintings as a means of rendering far distance and depth. All kinds of landscape features can be captured by some means of framing them; the most frequently used ways are with architectural features such as posts, with hedges, tree trunks or canopies pruned to allow specific views through, or even the sky itself as used in Shugaku-in Rikyu. What is ‘borrowed’ will depend upon the specific location, it may be a single detail, such as a temple roof, a mountain, or hillside or even a range of mountains. Shakkei extends the boundaries of the garden potentially far beyond its physical limitations, it also binds the garden with the surrounding landscape, thereby enhancing the illusion of the garden scenery being an element of the natural landscape itself.

Shugaku-in Rikyu, Kyoto

Miegakure,  or ‘hide and reveal’ is another compositional technique that has been in long use in painting, and can also be found to be employed in Far Eastern architecture. This can be seen in the paintings where paths and rivers for example, appear and disappear in amongst the landscape scenery. Miegakure contributes to creating rhythm as well as enhancing the layering effect in a composition too. It is yet another means by which the viewer is drawn into and so can become engaged with the totality of the experience. In Japanese gardens this is usually used in the setting out of paths. Paths do not have a direct line, but will meander, opening and closing views to the viewer, offering glimpses of scenery, then withdrawing the view, before representing a view from a different perspective. The nature of the path itself will influence how a view is revealed, for example by the use of stepping stones which tend to draw the eyes downwards (so ‘closing’ a view), and then at some point the tension will be relieved bt introducing a broad slab of stone as a resting point from where a view is presented. Most often, miegakure is created by screening with planting, but land shaping can be involved, as can walls or other architectural features. The use of suggestion is a cornerstone of Japanese aesthetics, and miegakure fits with this way of thinking, it is well illustrated in the writings of the Buddhist monk Kenkõ Yoshida (吉田 兼好 1283? – 1350?) who wrote “In everything, no matter what it may be, uniformity is undesirable. Leaving something incomplete makes it interesting, and gives one the feeling that there is room for growth.”[2] The point is that the whole is better revealed incrementally to the viewer, and in so doing the whole experience becomes greater than the sum of its parts.

Okichi Sanso, Arashiyama

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[1] ‘Themes, Scenes and Taste in the History of Japanese Garden Art’. Wybe Kuitert, 1988

[2] Kenko Yoshida. ‘In Praise of Idleness’ (Tsurezuregusa). Translated by Donald Keene. Columbia University Press 1967

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Mandala Poetics

North Song:

Far from shore or expectation

With a plain wind at your back,

Watching the pattern of the waves unfold.

East Song:

“It’s a dance,” she said

slipping gracefully between scent and touch.

From this world to another

                                              Centre Song:

Love’s shades

Spiralling into the infinite,

A circle of empty hands.

West Song:

Mind meeting itself

In landscape emerging of its own will,

Uncovering a becoming in Beauty.

                                        South Song:

A deep pillow of crisp leaves

Walking on air under the trees,

Taking note of the sun’s path.

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On Chinese Landscape Painting and Japanese Gardens. Part 2/5

Composition and Organisation

This pertains to the structure and style of the garden composition before us. In Japan several styles of garden have emerged within the tradition, pond and island stroll gardens of larger estates; the karesansui garden which largely evolved in Zen Buddhist temples; the tea gardens or roji that lead the participants of the tea ceremony to the nigriguchi or ‘crawling in’ entrance of the tea house; and the tsubo niwa or courtyard garden which developed particularly in the homes of the merchant classes. Each of these categories identifies a particular style of garden that is identifiable by various factors such as size, function, location and character. Not that they are necessarily exclusive to one another, indeed they frequently borrow and interchange elements from each other.

The term ‘composition’ implies that a painting, as a garden, both have an underlying skeletal structure. Just as when we look at another human being (or any other form), what we register visually is the surface structure of the object. But the surface structure is entirely dependant on the underlying structure or framework of that object. This is equally true of the skin stretched over a skeleton of bone, as it is of the crystalline organisation of a rock placed in the garden. In Japan it is recognised that the arrangement of stones (ishigumi) forms the skeletal structure of the garden, the planting coming as the ‘flesh on the bones’. A measure of the skill of a garden creator is measured by his skill in arranging rocks, not particularly by the depth of his knowledge of plants. In both painting and the garden this internal and external structure is influenced by the idea or inspiration.

“Although painting is representation of form, it is dominated by idea. If the idea is insufficiently brought out, it may be said, that the picture has no form either. But as the idea is form, it cannot be expressed if the form is neglected. When the form is grasped, the idea will fill it completely; but when form is lost, how can there be either form or idea?”  Wang Li, poet and painter late 13^th C [1].

The painter may be inspired by observing landscape scenery, and then records the impressions of what he sees and feels. He then has the task of rendering his work within the confines of the format on which he records his response to what he sees and feels. The garden creator has a different approach where the form or structure of the garden is dictated by an idea and then overlaid by function. Also in terms of structure the garden creator is deeply influenced by the nature and configuration of the space in which the garden will appear. In this way, a garden set within an area close bounded by architecture will differ from a space characterised by openness and distant views. Also the garden creator often has to respond to the demands made or implied by the client, whereas the painter has perhaps a greater freedom of expression in this respect. In this way both paintings and gardens are subject to limitations that originate from cultural, social and experiential conditions.

Matsuo Taisha, by Shigemori Mirei

We readily accept that a painting expresses a quality that reflects the individual style or identity of the artist, whereas a garden tends not to exhibit this so strongly. It seems that often the individuality of the garden creator is subsumed in the making of the garden. Perhaps this arises from the fact that a garden tends to be the result of a collective effort, whereas a painting owes more to the expression of an individual, Saying that, one cannot easily mistake seeing the individuality in the work of Shigemori Mirei 重森三玲 (1896-1975) with his profound emphasis of the vertical line in the rock arrangements, and bold use of less than traditional materials such as concrete. More often in the Japanese garden the individuality of the creator is hidden under a cloak of naturalism, as for example in the work of Ogawa Jihei 小川治兵衛 (1860-1933). Perhaps it is part of the response to creating gardens that it is more ‘natural’, more fitting somehow that the individuality of expression is shrouded in this way, the garden creator works entirely with materials brought in directly from nature, and they still retain very much their own patterns of energy, and it is through those very energies that the structure of the work is revealed. In the landscape paintings, it is the landscapes themselves that dominate the scene, human figures and activity where they do occur are entirely secondary in scale to the landscapes being depicted. Many gardens, particularly the karesansui  type are viewed from outside of the garden, detached from it, as to allow people into the gardens would over balance the sense of illusion of what is being depicted that the magic so conveyed would lose its force.

Shokuho-en, by Ogawa Jihei

The essential qualities of painting were established, most famously by Xie He 谢赫 (a 5^th C writer, art historian and critic) who codified six principles in the preface to his book The Record of the Classification of Old Painters 古画品录:

1. ‘Spirit resonance’; the most important principle of all, which refers to the expression of energy in the work.

2. ‘The Bone (structure) Method’; the various ways of using the brush and the manner of brush strokes depicting elements of the composition. As in calligraphy individual expression and identity was revealed by the mastery in the way a brush was applied

3. ‘Correspondence to the Object’; the expression of forms and shapes corresponding to the subject being depicted.

4. ‘Suitability to Type’; the application of colour, layers and the values of ink to establish the sense of depth in the composition.

5. ‘Division and Planning’; the placement and arrangement of the various elements of the composition thus expressing depth and space.

6. ‘Transmission and Copying’; painting not only from life, but studying and copying the works of past masters.

Whilst it is difficult to extrapolate a direct casual connection between Xie He’s principles and garden making in Japan, the Japanese would have been aware of the importance in which these principles were held on the mainland. Both art forms (painting and gardens) have the relationship of man to landscape as their central concern. Chinese culture was held in a sense of awe and reverence in Japan, and it was the principal source upon which they modelled the development of their society, as well as their approach to the arts. Also we should bear in mind that relatively few Japanese travelled to China. When one considers these points there are several areas which can be identified where there does seem to be a correspondence with garden making as practiced in Japan.

Adach Museum, Matsue.

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[1] Osvald Sirén 

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On Chinese Landscape Painting and Japanese Gardens. Part 1/5

Guo Xi (1020-1090)
Early Spring

If we wish to better understand Japanese gardens we can profit by taking a close look at Chinese paintings. The gardens are in some ways like 3-D visualizations of the paintings. Historically, Chinese paintings were collected in very large numbers by the cultural elite in Japan, they were studied by artists, aesthetes, cultural opinion formers, as well as garden creators. The compositional techniques of painting (such as the use of asymmetry, ‘empty space’, and perspective effects) came to be used in garden creation. Many of these concepts became embedded in the garden tradition, and can be clearly seen in historically important gardens such as Daisen-in and Ryõan-ji , but also appear in more contemporary gardens too.

Daisen-in.Kyoto

The philosophical and aesthetic outlook of the Chinese painters also came to shape the Japanese garden tradition in important ways. For the painters the quality of ‘spirit’ was as vital as the ink they used. A painting may be deemed technically correct, but it would critically ‘fail’ without an infusion of the mystery of ‘spirit’. Through their expression of ‘spirit’ the painters developed an aesthetic language that explored a way of seeing landscape and the relationship of the viewer to that landscape. This way of seeing points us to the heart of gardens too. So whether we are creating a Japanese style garden or simply curious about their apparent simplicity and grace, having some idea of the connections between Chinese landscape paintings and the Japanese garden tradition can open new avenues of understanding and appreciation.

The Japanese garden tradition did not arise out of a vacuum, there have been many influences that have come to contribute to what we can see and understand as the Japanese garden today. The landscape of Japan itself, and the aesthetic tastes and inclinations of Japanese society itself have been important drivers in the development of the garden  tradition over several hundreds of years. Of all those influences one stands out in particular, Chinese landscape paintings. Japan received an immense continental influence from China, nearly every aspect of society was touched upon by this stream. Brought to Japan not only by Japanese who travelled to China on political missions, but also by Chinese and Korean religious figures and craftsmen who journeyed to Japan, some of who settled in Japan for extended periods of time. It is possible that among these people there were those with experience of creating gardens, though there does not seem to be absolute documentary evidence to back up such a supposition.[1]

Ginkaku-ji

Visitors travelling to China from Japan, and those arriving in Japan brought not only abstract knowledge, but they would have also brought artefacts too. Despite periods of isolation and political disassociation there was a steady stream of trade between the two nations. Paintings were highly collectable in Japan by the elite in society, and they were amassed in great numbers. Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa (1436-1490), the founder of Ginkaku-ji (the ‘Silver Pavilion’ in Kyoto) had a collection of over 11,000 paintings. The pavilion itself was created for the Shogun as a location where he would discuss aesthetics and hold tea ceremonies with an entourage of artists and other aesthetes.

Landscape painting by Sõami in Southern School style.

The painter Sesshū Tōyō (雪舟 等楊 (1420 -1506) is one of the most renown painters in Japan and he was also recognised as a major artist in China during his day when he travelled there, and it is known that he also took a keen interest in garden building. Another example of a painter/garden creator is Sõami (相阿弥, d.1525) associated with the Ginkaku-ji temple garden. He was part of the Shogun’s circle of artistic advisers and was well known as a painter of Japanese landscapes in the Chinese ‘Southern School’ style (kanga). Sõami is also often cited as the designer of the gardens at Ryõan-ji and Daisen-in, but there is no defining evidence linking him with either garden. Kanō Motonobu 狩野 元信 (1476 – 1559 founder of the Motonobu school in Kyoto was also reputably another painter who tried his hand at garden creation, the karesansui garden to the rear of the hōjō, or main hall at Taizō-in (Myōshin-ji, Kyoto) is attributed to him and is known today as the ‘Motonobu garden’ (Motonobu no niwa). There were presumably others but the attribution of specific gardens has been lost in time. Generally one has to be wary of accepting associations of painters with gardens from the pre modern period, as there is usually scant evidence to qualify this, and it is more often enough based on hearsay.

In China landscape painting was regarded as the highest form of art, superseding even that of portraiture. Paintings were created on paper or silk and usually mounted as scrolls, they were painted with Indian ink in a wide range of tones or washes. Both painting and the appreciation of paintings were seen as cultural ambition, something that the elite in society engaged with very seriously. Similarly, prowess in calligraphy was seen as a mark and a measure of an educated person. In much of East Asia the natural landscape was viewed as being the setting of the ultimate source of leadership and authority. It was in landscape that humans sought to communicate directly with the deities at sites thus designated as being sacred places. In China, it was in, and through the landscape that emperors derived their political, moral and spiritual authority by identification with the divine. There has been a centuries old practice of retiring to remote regions in the landscape; this is not exclusively an Asian practice, witness also the establishment of many early Christian religious centres in remote and places difficult of access such as Iona, Lindisfarne etc.

“In much of East Asian elite culture the landscape was traditionally an image of spiritual freedom, religious power and moral transcendence of the ambitions and avarice of ordinary life in the capital or the various regional centres.” [2]

The creation of gardens was an extension of the notion of sacred landscape, by creating ‘landscape gardens’ the intention was to provide a place to attract the deities to, and to create a space in which people could communicate with the deities. In time this idea became secularised, but that does nothing to fundamentally undermine the link between gardens and the notion of the sacred. Painting was another means of encapsulating the same desire for identification with the divine, to participate in the transcendence of mundane existence. To view a painting, as to view a garden, was to seek to participate in the landscape being depicted, to internalise and identify with that landscape, and in so doing break down any intellectual division between self and object.

Hoshun-in, Kyoto

Continued in Part 2.

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[1] In ‘Themes, Scenes and Taste in the History of Japanese Garden Art’ (1988), Wybe Kuitert rasies a hypothetical connection between the Chinese Zen priest Lanqi Daolong (Jap. Rankei Dõryū) as a possible source of direct continental influence particularly in connection with the waterfall construction at Tenryū-ji.

[2] Joseph D. Parker, ‘Zen Buddhist Landscape Arts of Early Muromachi Japan’. State University of New York. 1999

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Coming Soon!

Coming very soon:

Guo Xi (1020-1090) - Early Spring

New essay on the influence of Chinese landscape paintings on the Japanese garden tradition. An essay to be posted in five parts.


"If we wish to better understand Japanese gardens we can profit by taking a close look at Chinese paintings. The gardens are in some ways like 3-D visualizations of the paintings. Historically, Chinese paintings were collected in very large numbers by the cultural elite in Japan, they were studied by artists, aesthetes, cultural opinion formers, as well as garden creators. The compositional techniques of painting (such as the use of asymmetry, ‘empty space’, and perspective effects) came to be used in garden creation. Many of these concepts became embedded in the garden tradition, and can be clearly seen in historically important gardens such as Daisen-in and Ryõan-ji , but also appear in more contemporary gardens too."

Norwich Cathedral

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Elemental Songs

Water Song:

It seems the flood

the over-flowingness

Is not to be contained,

Fixed and predictable by boundary.

“I am she.”

The river running.

And so she is.

Wood Song:

It has the song of water

&

The song of water flowing .

Wind

&

Next door’s Poplar tree.

Earth Song:

Stepping closer to the edge

So the heart runs faster,

Solace and empty hands.

The gradient arcs outward

Tight stretching the muscles,

Transforming in the unfolding.

Fire Song:

Stone Being giving birth to the new

Twist from one to other

Separate to expectation,

Then burn the barns

Trash the crops

Make your new home, home.

Air song:

Wherein the tenderness,

The grace of person

When no divide exists?

Slow standing, still breathing

Counting the pinpricks of light-

Winter’s unwinding tokens fall.

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