Sukiya Living—Aesthetics

The Aesthetics of the Japanese Garden
Japanese Gardens and Bonsai

Initially, Japanese gardens were taken to be a symbolic representation of "nature," interpreted by Japan's indigenous Shinto religion. Their gardens were created with simplicity and elegance. Through the centuries, these gardens have included—stone work, plants, water elements (koi), ground cover, enclosure fence and occasionally modest accessories such as a path, small water basin or Japanese lantern. The garden in its context of Sukiya Living, promotes reflection and meditation as well as the experience of a natural work of art in progress. Further, it provides a crucial experience beyond perception—one of the ways that we process meaning from sensory experience is by channeling it into a sense of calm tranquility. As the focal object of Sukiya Living aesthetics, the garden is an invitingly comfortable, peaceful place to be.

As part of the "elegant simplicity" the garden's appearance was intended to be "natural," which is a challenging concept. This suggests the "naturalness" of bonsai, which if we are honest might be identified as a kind of "meta-naturalism." Bonsai's "naturalness" is both more and less than one would find in nature, which certainly holds true for Japanese gardens as well. While the nominal criterion for successful bonsai may be said to be "the natural," this is hardly the case on any normal understanding of the term, "natural." In fact, there is a set of formalized rules determining all aspects of the bonsai; it is in virtue of these rules that we use bonsai to create our ideal concept of "tree" which we take to nature in order to evaluate trees found there; finally, we measure the "trees in nature" against this "bonsai" ideal. In truth, it is the bonsai determining the criterion for "the natural," not the other way around.

The situation is more of a challenge applied to Japanese gardens and their corresponding "nature." For both bonsai and gardens, the crucial relationship is that between object and its referent (bonsai-tree in nature; garden-nature). In both cases, this may be similar to Andy Warhol's early work with Campbell Soup cans—the work of art and its referent, especially in those cases where there is neither physical nor perceptual difference between the two. The Japanese garden is hardly closer to "nature" than the Warhol piece is to soup. As suggested above with regard to bonsai, the garden might be categorized as "meta-nature." Maintaining the logical distinction between reference and the referent is crucial here. In the way that bonsai is the manipulation of its natural-tree-object, so too is the case with the garden and its elements from nature.

Because of its history and evolution, the rules applying to the creation of Japanese gardens were not formalized to the extent they were for bonsai. Part of this has to do with diversity and complexity; there is not a consistent base of elements as there is for bonsai. Interestingly, there is a bonsai connection with the gardens, because the latter has adopted bonsai rules to be applied to the trees in the gardens; similarly, the same could be said regarding stone setting—the two ancient texts of which are: Sakuteiki (Notes on Garden Making), Tachibana no Toshitsuna's 11th century text; and Illustrations for Designing Mountain, Water, and Hillside Field Landscapes, complied by the priest Zoen in the 15th century. These became classics and have been regarded as the "bible" for setting stones in the Japanese garden through the centuries. In virtue of the oral tradition, the same could also be said for water treatment, ground cover and paths in the garden. While this is helpful, it falls short at the crucial juncture—putting these elements together and creating the complex piece of "The Garden." The aesthetics applied to its parts is not necessarily transferable from the critical properties of the elements to those of the whole.

Another complication is introduced by the fact that the basic principles of Japanese aesthetics are not quite in sync with those in the West. One option here is to consider a Wittgensteinian-type criterion whereby we identify a set of Japanese gardens we regard as successful, extrapolate relevant aesthetic properties, and proceed from there. Historical longevity and general popularity can be given some credibility here. Another complicating factor is that our aesthetic criteria can never be closed, as might be said for bonsai, i.e., not only is every garden different, but each new instance must be provided aesthetic latitude.

Wabi/Sabi and Mono no Aware

What aesthetics criteria may be brought to bear regarding Japanese gardening? There are three concepts from traditional Japanese aesthetics that are applicable. We are not seeking extensive explication of the concepts applied to Japanese gardens; rather, only that they are applicable and hopefully useful.

The garden is a creation of elements from nature which, in combination possess a simple elegance; the garden is a space that pleases the senses and soothes the soul. The Japanese garden is a primary manifestation of the concept of Sukiya Living, which as was indicated above, was introduced by the revolutionary Tea master Sen no Rikyu at the end of the 16^th century; his primary focus was the notion of wabi-cha, which was grounded in the aesthetic concepts of wabi/sabi and mono-no aware. Unpacking these terms will give as a basic account of the garden's sense, if not its meaning.

The terms wabi and sabi, are untranslatable and even ineffable for native speakers; wabi's usual meaning is of the impoverished, imperfect and homely, which might be modified to—simple elegance, sensitivity to time and age with properties such as earthy colors, strong emotive connotation, natural and pure design, e.g., an abandoned fisherman's shack on a stormy beach; or the moon becoming enshrouded behind a bank of clouds.

The meaning of Sabi may overlap with wabi, but its specific importance goes toward beauty provided as a result of old age, e.g., a worn marble step, the rich patina and variety of greens on weathered copper; here, age itself is an independent criterion for beauty. As will be discussed below, good Bizen pottery looks "old," thus possesses strong sabi from the day it comes from the kiln.

Somewhat less specific in connotation than these two, mono-no-aware refers more to a subjective response regarding the "preciousness of things," which is often expressed in an exclamation of wonder and delight; it applies to precisely those kinds of things rich in wabi/sabi. For me, an accommodating connection between Sen no Rikyu and Sukiya Living are these three terms, especially in their application today.

Rikyu is also admired for insisting upon the use of Raku tea utensils, indigenous to the local area. His concept of "wabi" is clearly seen in the Raku ware; this, in conjunction with his so-an (grass hut) tea house, was the ground for his notion of Sukiya Living. In my estimation, the most exquisite Raku ware is Bizen, an ancient kuni (province), which later was included within Okayama prefecture. The remarkable beauty of Bizen is grounded in a complexity of qualities - the design and structure of the pieces, their delicacy, the gorgeous subtlety of the glazes, their Raku earthiness, and most important of all—their wabi/sabi. The informed experience of Bizen is rich with wabi and sabi, even if the terms cannot be defined. The best of this work is truly breathtaking. Bizen was one of three indigenous potteries which Sen no Rikyu included for use in his Tea Ceremony; the other two being Iga and Shigaraki. Ironically, over the course of the past 400 years, Rikyu's so-an tea houses have become as valuable and expensive as were the luxurious shoin that they replaced. The same is also the case with Bizen: it is far from humble in its price and the respect that it commands today.

Bizen is an interesting phenomenon - it is difficult to find in Japan; I could count on one hand the number of pieces of Bizen that I found in Tokyo and Kyoto. Thus, it is not surprising that it is so scarce in the States. I first experienced Bizen at the little Japanese pottery shop in Japan Town in San Francisco. Also interesting is the fact that of the 30-odd kilns in Bizen, there are approximately 2 that produce first rate pottery. Why is Bizen so significant? If one understands good Bizen, so too will s/he understand wabi and sabi, and thus in this sense, Sukiya Living. This understanding has been crucial for me on my path during the past 20 years, which has culminated in remodeling and furnishing my house, especially the new Japanese room and engawa, and in creating and tending my Japanese garden. In an important sense, I have used this wabi/sabi experience of Bizen as well as my understanding of wabi-cha as guide posts for my garden and the Sukiya Living it entails.

Mon-no-aware is the mind set or attitude that I have toward my Bizen collection and my garden. This is the antithesis of the covetous American attitude toward material possessions. My feeling about these as works of art has nothing to do with their financial cost or value; it has nothing to do with status or anything that anyone else thinks about it. It is an expression and realization of who and what I am. It falls into the category which includes my works of visual art, my house, suiseki and surely most of all, my Japanese garden. The value here is of a transcendent, timeless beauty, while at the same time appreciating the fragile transience of all things. Sukiya Living prescribes a physical and psychic life of simple elegance; crucial to such a life for me is the Japanese garden, which is rich with wabi/sabi. The "simplicity" condition is directed toward the categories and kinds of objects in the garden—flora, stones, water and koi. The "elegance" goes to how these elements are creatively combined, executed and maintained. In a basic formulation—the gestalt resulting from this simple elegance provides the mono-no-aware of the garden.

Two Aspects for Garden Evaluation

For Japanese garden evaluation, we might note two criteria for critical evaluation: 1) every garden should provide its categorical nature for evaluation, i.e., it gives us the criteria for its praise and criticism; and 2) as with all work of art, there is a set of "defeating conditions" that may be applied to Japanese gardens. (1) When someone enters my garden, I want them to have the clear sense of the garden's saying, "Here I am; this is what I am." Every garden must reveal its theme, concept, even the thread running through it. As examples, I appeal to the two most obvious cases in Japan: a) the Moss Garden leaves no one in doubt regarding what it is; and b) Ryoan-ji smacks you between the eyes. Contemporary gardens, especially in America may be more subtle; but if they are successful, they still get their message across. The task of determining the garden-kind may be made more difficult if it does not fit easily into a traditional Japanese-garden category, e.g., my garden does not readily telegraph the fact that it is created using bonsai and suiseki.

(2) Defeating conditions of interest are primarily aesthetic ones. Again, this may not be easy or straightforward—some of the historical traditions of Japanese gardens are at least a bit quirky in terms of what are normally considered standard in Western art, e.g., the Japanese have a funny sense of mixing straight lines with curves; their kind and extent of asymmetry may be difficult to understand and appreciate; even some of their stone work may seem heavy handed. Inevitably, possibly for the better one cannot be a serious critic of Japanese gardens, even and especially in America failing to have been weaned on them in Japan. However this being said, most of the aesthetic standards are in line with those in the West.

Here are some of the aesthetic properties, the absence or violation of which would likely be defeating; these are in no particular order of priority—balance is critical. It is the first thing that one sees, both consciously and unconsciously; if it is off in the slightest, it is a liability. Again, the criterion to which I appeal is that of, "the hole in the canvas" flaw—if there is anything in the visual field that interrupts one's scanning the work, i.e., to which the eye automatically returns, then there is something wrong. Scale may be more important for gardens than it is in other art media. Obviously, good gardens are always sensitive to human scale, which is particularly true of any art that is environmental, such as architecture; and not only must the scale relate to the world appropriately, but it must be consistent within the garden itself. This is at the thematic core of my garden—the tallest specimen tree is less than eight feet tall; and the forests are about 32" tall; and the border material is approximately 20' high; the entire garden is constructed from the perspective of the normal-height adult. All of the basic aesthetic properties apply to Japanese gardens as they do to Western works of art. In addition to those listed above, also relevant to gardens are—figure/ground, perspective (both vanishing point and reverse), color, texture, contrasts, consistencies aesthetic movement, unity and harmony.

Experientially, the visitor to the garden works backwards, even if only subconsciously—the category kind and the aesthetic unity ought to be the initial experiences that strike one entering the garden; next one attends to the elements which yield the unity and finally the specific quality of each of these elements. If this unity is less than overwhelming, there is little hope for the garden's being a success.

What is the problem with most Japanese gardens in America? People have difficulty with many of the concepts we have been discussing—unity, simple elegance, wabi/sabi and mono-no-aware. Can these concepts be taught? Yes, and no. We can take our students by the hand, and say that this is it, and that this is not. Even this is age specific, beyond which the prospects are not good. No, in the sense that we cannot define any of these terms; and once you have "taken the horse to water," the educational prospects have been exhausted. If one does not have the idea, he will be unlikely to grasp it; in which case, teaching is impossible. Interestingly, the experience of these properties realized in a garden are in the main intuitive and unconscious—people can "sense" when they are present, but they probably cannot say what they are. Attempting to teach these and similar concepts for 35 years in the classroom, I realized that prospects of success are a challenge; and indeed this was so. However, one keeps up the effort. My garden itself is of primary interest to me; but following closely behind is my concern to share the garden with my friends and family.

Central to Rikyu's Sukiya Living was his wabi-cha, which is a complex activity consisting of the appropriate combination of the performance directed by the tea master, the tea house, the engawa, the tokonoma and the sensitive participation of the guests. It might be of value for us to work backward toward Sen no Rikyu's original sensibility, in our quest for Sukiya Living in our own lives.