Recent works

Central arrangement of dry garden, Warwickshire, England

 More and more as I work to create gardens do I realise what a privilege it is to have the opportunity to devote oneself to manifesting Beauty. Having trained in traditional gardens in Japan in the early 1980's it was my goal to find a way of integrating what I learned into other cultures. Instinct told me the fundamental principles were universal truths. There could with the right application be found ways of integrating these ideas in places outside of Japan. Not necessarily to copy what was done in Japan, but to embody those principles and blend them with the local culture.

Dry garden, Warwickshire, England

 In this garden, still not quite finished! The planting is 'non-Japanese', that is the plant palette I chose are not plants normally used in the gardens I visit in Japan. But then the outlook is not Japan either. The garden overlooks the greater part of the garden area which is full of shrubs and herbaceous planting familiar in England. Beyond the confines of the garden is a grass paddock with horses grazing, and beyond the paddock hedgerow trees of oak, sycamore, hazel and hawthorn, beyond that the infinity of the sky. I saw the location as a series of layers which could be viewed as a whole from inside the home. In Japan they will often use a narrowly defined range of plants. Here in this garden Thyme 'Doone Valley' and Sagina subulata ('Irish Moss') was used to create sweeps of low ground cover textural planting. To segregate the dry landscape garden from its more English cousin, a low hedge of Escallonia 'Donard's Seedling' has been planted. The garden is very young and will take a season or two for the ground cover to grow into a continuous carpet.

Garden in an orchard, Kent, England

To create gardens that  have a quality of peaceful harmony there needs to be a fusion of the garden creator with the space and the materials. The garden creator is really an orchestrator or a conductor bringing different materials together in space. In this particular garden there are a number of very old cherry trees. They once formed an orchard, but have long been undisturbed except by the birds that enjoy the fruit.

Stream between ancient cherry trees. Kent, England

 A stream now winds its way among the trees, three ponds allow the water to gather before moving on. A variety of treatments to the streams creates a range of sounds that a visitor will discover as they walk through the garden. There are no defined paths so everyone can find their own way through the space.

Moon gate opening to pavilion. Kent, England

 Having walked down through the garden, perhaps for some of the way having followed the stream, the visitor has to walk around the pavilion to find a way to enter. Rising up a series of steps built out of very large slabs of stone, the 'Moon gate' opening frames a view back up the garden. A pavilion is a destination, but also a place to rest. A place to gather one's thoughts and experiences, to allow them to become embodied. The architecture defines a view, focuses a way of seeing again something that has already been experienced, and in this way revealing the garden in a new way. Hide and reveal, opening and closing, ever being drawn on to discover anew.

Leaf shaped roof of pavilion. Kent, England

Water garden. Gloucestershire, England

This garden actually contains four ponds and two streams. the landscape element of the work took nearly a year to complete. It transformed of what was a large grass slope into a stroll garden. Yet to be completed are two buildings, one will be a tea house that will sit out over the largest of the ponds, and the other will be a covered seat in a contemporary style. The covered seat will also act as a focal point in the far distance for the view across the garden from the tea house.

Water garden..Gloustershire, England

In this garden the planting chosen has been carefully considered to develop as a series of flowing shapes that drift across the site. The plantings are mainly Buxus (English Box) and Prunus laureoceracus (small leaved laurel), both can be pruned and clipped into low mounds. Over 100 tons of boulders (the largest of which weighed over 6 tons) were carefully selected and placed in the composition.  There is an interesting contrast in feeling between the soft fluid shapes of the plantings and the rounded forms of the boulders. The impact of the stones is immediate, the planting will take a few years to fill out and will require tender care to guide them and then maintain them into the forms that the garden asks for.

Arrangement of large boulders. Gloucestershire, England

So often it becomes apparent how close the creation of a garden and the creation of music is. In both arts the composer is working with patterns of energy. Rocks have their individual energy, as do plants, as do notes. Everything vibrates to its own song. The task of the garden creator and the composer is the same, to draw the different patterns into a harmonious whole. What is also important for the garden creator is to embody the qualities he or she desires to project through the garden. It is this energy flow that the viewer of the garden interacts with, absorbs through experience of what is felt. Beyond music the garden invokes the qualities of time, change and the seasons, even from day to day change happens, from one moment to the next.

Castle Rigg Stone Circle

Immemorial wisdom of the stones

Soft as a lover’s skin

Brilliant lemon-yellow lichen constellations

Scattered over your flanks.

Here at the centre the landscape womb

This point of transformation

Gateway between liminal and subliminal,

The awakened dream reforms eye bright.

Yūgen and the Japanese Garden

幽玄

The Japanese aesthetic language is full of terms that have no direct translation into English, wabi, sabi, iki and fūryū are just a small sample. Yūgen is another such term, which is also one that we (both Japanese and non-Japanese) can encounter at first hand when we experience a Japanese garden. Though we should be aware to capture such terms in the mind is to try and catch fish with our bare hands or with a basket that has no base. They refuse to be simply pinned down by words and rolled neatly into easily graspable concepts.

Ryoan-ji, Kyoto

If we search for dictionary definitions of yūgen, there are many: ‘subtle grace, hidden beauty, mysterious profundity, elegant simplicity, the subtle and profound, rich and mysterious beauty.’ Yūgen can be all these ideas, and yet like the proverbial fish it’s a slippery beast to pin down. The term is usually associated with Noh drama, and is associated with the expression of a quality that an actor expresses through movement and tone. Arthur Waley referred to yūgen as ‘what lies beneath the surface.’ The elusiveness springs from the fact we are dealing with an emotional response that arises in the heart of the one experiencing, rather than directly in the mind. We recognise yūgen as the beginning of an unfolding of an emotional response, rather than a concrete manifestation of an action.

In the garden yūgen arises as part of our emotional response to the scene before us, it is that which holds us there, caught by the desire to remain in the spell we have entered into. A garden such as the dry landscape garden at Ryōan-ji is an example of yūgen, most who have sat and contemplated the scene recognise the quality even if they may not apply the term. The garden is mysterious; it offers us no obvious clue as to how we are to engage with it.  Yet we are aware we have left convention behind. The garden space is complete in itself, only requiring the presence of the viewer to be the experiencer. Bounded with the space is a self-contained universe, where change is subtle and movement shrouded by stillness. Think of the mysterious interplay of light and shade, of time passing yet seemingly being held in quietude. The primary elements of the garden (the stones and their relationships to one another) do not alter, it is us who alters and changes.

Ryoan-ji, Kyoto

Part of the difficulty of a definition of yūgen arises from this notion that it is a state of being that is transformative and not at all fixed in any way. It seems its very intangibility is at least in part because at the moment where we recognise it, it arises from a notion that is a state of being that is esentially transformative and not fixed. It seems its very elusiveness may at least in part be because the moment when we cognitively become aware of yūgen in some way it has already passed, moved on to become something other, an idea or a thought. It is the same as we hear and recognise a note of music the sound has already passed.

Thus yūgen lies in the realm of suggestion, of the unformed, it posits a direction or place we may move toward. I would suggest yūgen is not found in the full bloom of the cherry trees so beloved by the Japanese, or in the fiery blaze of autumnal colours of maple trees in autumn. Rather it is revealed in the buds of the cherry before they open fully, or perhaps in autumn colour momentarily reflected from some unlikely source. It is a quality veiled by a certain sense of mystery, contained in that which is fleeting, ephemeral and not obvious.

Matsuo Taisha shrine, Kyoto

Any opinion on yūgen is bound to be ultimately subjective, which is also what makes it interesting. For myself, the hillside stone arrangement at Matsuo Taisha shrine created by Shigemori Mirei towards the end of his life has this quality. It is powerful and deeply ‘mysterious’, modern in some ways perhaps but it also exudes a sense of the ancient. The hand of the creator is entirely hidden, yet one also senses an underlying order or logic to the stone placements. There is a freedom from the intellect. Idea does not dominate the scene, this is the work of someone drawing up water from a deep, dark wellspring. Much of Shigemori’s earlier work does seem to be dominated by a conscious intent to ‘create something’, to give the viewer an idea or symbolic content to relate to. In contrast to the arrangement at Matsuo Taisha, the karesansui garden at Raikyū-ji in Bitchu Takahasi (Okayama Prefecture) feels mannered and lacking in a certain subtlety. This garden was created around the early part of the 17^th century and is attributed to Kobori Enshu. It is not to say the garden lacks beauty and repose, it has both those qualities, but on viewing the garden we are aware of what Enshu is representing in the garden scenery, namely the Crane and Turtle motifs. Where the garden scenery moves us too quickly towards an idea then we become fixed on the idea, and see and respond to the garden through the prism of idea, and less through the medium of pure feeling.

Raikyu-ji, Okayama prefecture

Zeami Motokiyo世阿弥 元清 (c.1363 – 1443), often cited as the originator of Noh drama, also wrote on aesthetics, and he described yūgen as ‘contemplating the flight of geese seen and lost among the clouds’. This reveals another aspect to aesthetics in Japan in general in that a quality also can be said to contain an element of wistfulness, or perhaps a longing for the concrete. But as we have noted above yūgen implies change and movement, emotionally we might well wish for things to remain as they are, but the very essence of being alive is that things are in a constant process of change and development. A garden exemplifies this process of transformation; it is one of the very qualities that snags our attention, and draws us into awareness. The Japanese garden is capable of a highly refined expression of this mysterious process, change within seemingly changelessness.

Sleight of Hand

Through ancient woodland

With its call of time past

Echoing the woodpecker.

It’s almost sleight of hand

This profusion of spring

And now the pasture

Carpeted with buttercups too. 

Along this scarce trodden path

Wild orchids,

Sentinels of this moment.

 Folded into the forms of land

Time smoothed yet never stilled,

The last of the bluebells

Glow soft in the shadows.

 Pin pricks of light

A firmament distilled

This shower of space dust

Falling here and now
This moment this place.

Slip now any tenuous grip 

Let go the trembling reeds

Step from the mud of the shallows,

Into the light gathering form,

So to dream on and on.

Bridges - book project

I was very pleased to be a part of the Bridges project, a book conceived and produced by Suzanne Perrin and Jeremy Hoare. It is out in print now.

Here is a taster link to a promotional clip on You Tube: https://youtu.be/Jgd9eqoIaeI

And on Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/16533188

The Bridges book project was conceived by Jeremy Hoare after attending a book launch at Daiwa Foundation Japan House in London in May 2011, two months after the devastating Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami in March of that year. Thinking about the close relationship between Japan and the UK that was there at Daiwa the evening of the book launch, Jeremy got together with Japan specialist and historian Suzanne Perrin to create the Bridges book as a series of interviews, to utilise the wealth of knowledge that people had about Japan in Britain. The aim of Bridges is to celebrate the work of a diverse range of people who have made a significant contribution to the understanding of Japan in the UK, and who continue to provide insights into cross-cultural relations that are so important in today’s globalised world. The contributors are all UK-based professionals and work in a wide range of areas including academic, diplomatic, creative media, business and humanitarian work. Their wealth of experience provides a deep insight into the development of Anglo-Japanese relations from the beginning of the Post War period to the present day. ​ For copies contact: Suzanne Perrin Japan Interlink London t/f:  +44 20 8579 9404 www.japaninterlink.com info@japaninterlink.com

The Scent of Mosses

The wandering stream

Finding its own way

From mountain rain to sea –

The scent of mosses.

Holding the line

As breath flows

Effortless the beginning

Pause

So, the unfolding into next.

Rhythm of the between

Spring sprung sprang,

In this unfolding is a return

To a place of the heart.

That’s all.

Passing by the same places

But now with different mind-sight,

Seeing not just points of arrival

But the spaces between,

This bridge of dreams

A point of transition.

 

If I sit quiet enough

The light unfolds itself.

No effort required

Grasping emptiness.

Stones hold their stories

Enshrined stillness in flow.