Sukiya Living

Japanese Gardens, Residential Space and Tea

"Sukiya Living" may be characterized as a systematic approach to constructing the "good life." It is "systematic" in that it addresses those dimensions of life that are fundamentally important. The discussion moves from the particulars of Japanese gardens, their residences and the Tea Ceremony to more general considerations applicable to life. Sukiya Living elevates ordinary experiences and their related phenomena to being valuable, aesthetic endeavors.

The "good life" component is an investigation into applied philosophy. Since the dawn of Western culture, philosophers have inquired into all matters "human." What are the qualities for living a better, more fulfilled life? This is the objective of Sukiya Living. This term has been applied to the Japanese garden and its related architectural space. The conviction is that addressing the Japanese garden in isolation is incomplete; the garden needs to be understood in the context of its architectural counterpart. Historically, Sukiya Living is intimately connected to the Tea Ceremony. The garden and it residence are interdependent and when successful, create a positive gestalt.

Humans order their lives hierarchically — we expend energy on things that we care about, reflection upon which contributes to a more productive life. In a Darwinian or Freudian sense, we exist to survive and to procreate. From the beginning of our time on earth, thinkers have asked the question, "What does it mean to be human?" Through the millennia few have missed the opportunity to include "living well" as an aspect of our humanity. Applying the Sukiya Living model beyond Japanese gardens and residences, will support this objective.

Having introduced the concept, in this initial set of six essays on Sukiya Living, I address the following: 1) Japanese gardens/Residential space/Tea; 2) Some fundamental aspects of Aesthetics; 3) Tea, 4) Food, Nutrition, Exercise; 5) Education, and 6) the Sukiya Living Artist.

Roots and Origins of Sukiya Living

Sen no Rikyu

To the Western observer, the concept Sukiya Living may be opaque, which may be clarified with some history and background. The presumptive father of Sukiya Living was Sen no Rikyu, who introduced the concept toward the end of the 16^th century. Rikyu, was both popular and powerful as a player at this crucial time of Japan's national unification. With his introduction of wabi-cha (Way of Tea), he created the ritualistic practice of Tea; the impact of this upon Japanese culture was revolutionary. Sen no Rikyu was not only active in the arts, but to his peril he had a finger in politics as well—his patron was the powerful shogun Toyotomi Hideyoshi. In the final decade of the 16^th century, following some internal-palace drama, Hideyoshi invited Rikyu to commit ritual suicide. Unfortunately, this invitation was not to be denied; however, Rikyu's impact was permanently established and continues to this day.

When first used in the 16^th century, the core meaning of Sukiya Living was "artlessness," which was central for Rikyu's reconstitution of Japan's aesthetics by way of Tea. Under the complex of Tea, the meaning of Sukiya Living virtually exploded: this included the multi-dimensional aspects of Tea—its garden, the roji (path) to the Tea House, all of the elements of the interior space (interior design and all tea accouterments) and finally the Tea Ceremony itself. Thus was born the wedding of inside/outside space, which has become the standard connotation of "Sukiya Living." The next logical step in this process is to inquire into those other aspects and dimensions of life that can be seen to follow from this Sukiya-Tea context.

While the physical environment is central to Sukiya Living, of equal importance is the state of the individual's mind for the Sukiya experience. Rikyu was acutely aware of this—the complete Tea setting was conspicuously "mind-oriented" — his attention to the transition from the outer world of ordinary experience to the inner world of Tea, the waiting area, the roji, the low entry opening in the tea house. The prohibiting of swords in the Tea house extended well beyond anti-militarism, the conscious democratization of the Tea Ceremony and its ritual all collude toward the acquisition of Sukiya Mind.

Inside/Outside

Following these extended introductory comments, I might turn to the consideration of my particular Sukiya Living environment. Appealing to a physical metaphor as a point of departure, this discussion of Sukiya Living might begin with the engawa (Japanese porch) as the experiential fulcrum, balancing inside and outside space. The "engawa" is relevant logically, psychologically and pragmatically, because it functions with the interior architecture and also with the exterior garden—when sitting on the engawa, one feels both "inside the house" and "outside in the garden." As part of the residential and garden space, the engawa should melt from calling attention to either—on the one hand the engawa seems to be "growing" from the garden, and on the other, it is a natural element of the building. While sitting on the engawa, one feels as though s/he is not distinctly in either the residence or in the garden.

Under the Sukiya Living concept, how are the building and garden conjoined? There must be no visual or psychological barrier between the inside room and the garden. My Japanese room has a "glass wall," between the building and garden consisting of a double set (12 feet) of sliding glass doors; thus, 80 square feet of glass which, given the 1500 sq. ft. garden is appropriate connecting inside and out. Psychologically, the glass seems to melt away; the engawa holds this together. The Japanese solve this inside/outside challenge with their removable wooden panels; this is neither practical nor cost effective in this country.

One of the connecting visual/architectural features between in and out is the overall floor treatment—there is a sequence of floor surfaces from the old original oak flooring in the house, to the bamboo flooring surrounding the tatami, which opens to the stained cedar-deck of the engawa. The strongest Japanese flooring feature is the tatami mat, which is not only the symbolic epitome of the nature in the garden, but it is indeed made of grass; and thus it is nature itself. Possibly even more important is the simplicity of the tatami; it anticipates the engawa which carries us directly into the garden. This sequence is as natural and inevitable as is the line in a familiar melody.

The original size of the bedroom, that I converted into the Japanese room, is a 6 2/3 mat-size room; five mats fit along the length of the room, the side exposed to the garden. The remaining space is a 2' X 15' strip along the wall away from the glass. I mounted the tokonoma directly on the floor itself (eliminating one mat). The tokonoma dimensions are 64" X 25", 9' high. This leaves 11" at the other end of the room beyond the glass; this, plus the two feet opposite the glass is bamboo flooring, level with the tatami.

Other than the tokonoma, the Japanese room is empty, save the futon at night and a small light stand. Construction sequencing is important in creating Sukiya Living—I purchased the quaint, 19^th century bungalow primarily for the Japanese-garden potential, and secondarily for the character and charm of the house. I began the garden immediately as I did the gut-rehabilitation of the house. In six months the house was finishing sufficiently to move in; then, over the next three years I brought the garden to timely maturity. Only then did I turn my attention to the Japanese room. On the basis of its simplicity, one might ask, "How did the garden impact this room?" This goes to the essence of the concept of Sukiya Living—the inside/outside elements of Sukiya Living are but aspects of a single phenomenon—each is an integral element of the other. The answer to the question above likely goes toward attitude or even spirit, rather than something more concrete or physical. The general effect is akin to the ripples emanating outward from a stone dropped into a calm pond. The garden is visible through the entire house even outside in the front yard, which impacts not only on the garden itself, but upon all of the intervening rooms.

Crucial in these considerations is the fact that the garden may be regarded as the most important space in the house. Now we have arrived at Sukiya Living—a living environment created by way of the Japanese garden. A standard comment regarding my garden is that it is cleaner than most people's houses; people find it to be surreal, more and better tended than "Western interior design" can provide. It is as though there is a unity, a singularity between inside and out, house and garden; there is no distinction between the two. This could not be done if the two were not conceived together, and then executed in the appropriate manner and sequence.

How Far the Garden Extends

Having finished painting, landscaping and photographing the front of my house, I suggested to my daughter and son-in-law that I include one of these shots on my Japanese Garden web-site. I was struck by their comment that the front had nothing to do with the garden. This initiated some reflection on the parameters of this Sukiya Living space, which brought me to the current project. Psychologically, the Sukiya space spreads outward from its core at the engawa, the two most prominent areas being the garden itself and the Japanese room; next are the periphery of the garden and my art gallery adjacent to the Japanese bedroom. On the "garden side" this is pretty much the end of it—it is really incredible that and to what extent the bamboo, willow and birch, all rising beyond 20' from the ground provide a predominating enclosure for the garden. However, within the interior, the Sukiya space qua garden continues to remains strong into the living room, and beyond. While the garden is visible in at least half of the living room, this is not essential for it to retain its Sukiya impact. My argument above regarding the dynamic, organic interdependent unity of the Sukiya elements may be relevant here—the Sukiya Living energy is not dependent upon any immediate or direct sensory experience.

It is my conviction that one of the most important aspects of perception is experiencing something when it is not being directly perceived. This applies in the current situation—we may make the distinction between those aspects of the garden which facilitate direct empirical experience, and those which do not. Of the former—we can get glimpses of the garden all of the way through the house; outside the house, we see the fence, the tall silver maple, the tops of the willows, the birches and hints of the bamboo; listening carefully, one can hear the sound of the water from the bamboo fountain; often the sound of the birds and frogs emanate from the garden.

Indirect evidence in front of the house is provided by the bamboo growing in front of the picture window and along the side of the house; the hinoki false cyprus reference the garden, as do the Austrian pine, the weeping larch, the crab apple, the dogwood and the flowering quince. Important here is the fact that this provides a "sense" of the garden's being back there, without that being directly perceived. In other words, a sensitive person coming to the front door for the first time, should "get a feeling" for the garden, prior to having experienced any of it directly.

For me as its creator, or for anyone else interested in experiencing my latest and likely most substantial artistic effort, this is Sukiya Living, via the Japanese garden and its environs.