All Things Japanese – goinggaijin.com

Kamisaka Sekka

Kamisaka Sekka was born into a samurai family in Kyoto in 1866 as Kamisaka Yoshitaka. His artistic talent was recognized early, and he started to study painting within the Shijo school when he was 16. Four years later, he began working as a designer at the Kawashima textile company. Through his father, who had worked at Kyoto’s court, he became a student of Kokei Kishi, an Imperial Household artist, with whom he studied crafts and design. Kishi introduced Sekka to the traditional Rimpa style of painting, and today, Sekka is considered the last great Rimpa artist of Japan.

Thanks to the popularity of his designs, he was employed by the Japanese government to visit Europe in 1901. He was meant to research European crafts before the Glasgow International Exhibition, where it was planned to exhibit contemporary Japanese crafts.

In Europe, Sekka was introduced to Art Nouveau, which heavily influenced his later style. He also wanted to get to the bottom of the Western infatuation with Japonism at the time, and in turn, tried to incorporate Western styles and design ideas into his own work.

When he was back in Kyoto, he revisited his teachings in the Rimpa style. By now, traditional Japanese art styles had become unfashionable – Japan was just as infatuated with everything Western as vice versa – and was determined to revive it, merging Japanese tradition with (imported) modernity.

By doing so, he created a unique visual language with bold colours and dynamic compositions that make his work easily recognizable. However, the themes of his paintings remained rooted in Japanese tradition: landscapes, animals, and depictions of seasonal flowers or festivals dominate his work.

He also never gave up designing utilitarian pieces like tea bowls, boxes, writing paper and cards and other items for daily use. His works can also be found on folding screens, fusuma doors in shrines and temples; and he created many pieces suitable for kakemono (hanging scrolls).

However, a series of 60 woodblock prints called Momoyogusa (A World of Things) is considered Sekka’s masterpiece. It was commissioned in 1909/10 by Unsōdō, a publishing company based in Kyoto that focuses on art books (and still exists today). His prints depict a variety of landscapes, flowers, and classical scenes from literature as well as Sekka’s own unique ideas.

Kamisaka Sekka worked in many fields throughout his life, and in 1905 he started teaching at the Kyoto City School of Arts and Crafts. He also set up the forerunners of what would later become the Kyoto Arts and Crafts Institute. In 1913, he became involved in the Koetsu-kai, a tea ceremony created in honour of Hon’ami Koetsu, who is considered the founder of the Rimpa style of painting. Kamisaka Sekka died in 1942, aged 77.

Taisai Festival at Go’o Shrine

Last Friday, I visited a shrine festival for the first time in ages (thanks, depression…) It was Go’o shrine’s main festival which is held in honor of one of their enshrined deities, Go’o Daimyojin. Go’o shrine lies west of the Imperial Palace, and while the name literally means protect king shrine, it is better known as Kyoto’s pig or boar shrine, thanks to the ubiquitous pig statues on the grounds.

Go’o Daimyojin has his origins in Wake no Kiyomaro, a court official who, with the help of an oracle, settled a dispute concerning the imperial succession all the way back in 769. In return, he was deified as “Gracious Protecting Deity of the Emperor” and a festival in his honor has been held every year on April 4 since the Meiji era.

Unfortunately, there is not much I can say about the festival, as it is held behind closed doors in the shrine’s prayer hall. Court music could be heard and the customary chant of prayers, but that’s all I can report from this part of the ceremony, which lasted a bit more than one hour.

Afterwards, priests and guests gathered in a procession to the palace’s Kenreimon gate. There, the head priest recited a short prayer and read a document, and then everybody returned to the shrine.

Taisai - main festival - at Go'o Shrine.

That’s all I can say about the ceremony itself, but I will write more about Go’o Shrine in due course. However, I didn’t go home empty-handed (headed?): I learned last Friday that the guests wearing the brown happi above, who may take part in the ceremonies, are members of the Go’o Shrine Association, which membership most likely comes with a steep fee, sorry: donation every year.

Also, seeing the head priest in front of the palace gate led to an interesting observation that has eluded me until now: The priests’ clothes look like the dress of aristocrats of the Heian era. Even though I’ve been to many Shinto ceremonies, I’ve never made this connection before, assuming it is even true. I will have to investigate further.

The Inugami Curse

Seishi Yokomizo

Japan, just after WWII. The death of wealthy businessman Sahei Inugami brings his family to his countryside villa. There, they await the return of heir apparent Kiyo from the front, so that Sahei’s will can be read. However, the family lawyer, who knows the testament, senses troubles ahead and engages private detective Kindaichi to try and prevent the worst.

And indeed, when Sahei’s last will is finally revealed, people start to die and the murderer stays one step ahead even of smart Kindaichi. Will he be able to protect the rightful but unexpected heir until he can find the mastermind behind all the killings?

I borrowed this book from the library without knowing that it was a crime novel. But it’s more than that, a deep look into family dynamics where blood runs thick and trumps any other relationship, no matter how entangled the lines. We follow Kindaichi as he slowly (often too late) peels away the layers of secrecy and decorum, and even though there is no ticking clock, once the will is read, there is enough suspense to keep reading. The fact that the book centers on the women of the family – Sahei had three daughters – makes it feel surprisingly modern, even though it was written in 1951.

Seishi Yokomizo (1902 – 1981) was born in Kobe and earned a degree in pharmacy to take over the family business. However, he devoted himself to writing from 1932 onwards, and became one of Japan’s most popular mystery writers, with more than 55 million copies sold. Many of his books were adapted for film and TV. The Inugami Curse featuring his most famous detective Kosuke Kindichi was his first novel to be translated into English.

This is the translation from 2003 (published as The Inugami Clan), but re-issued in 2020. I can definitely recommend this book, I just hope that the new edition doesn’t include the list of characters in the beginning, as it made me guess half of the mystery much too early. In any case, you can get it from amazon.

Mikane Jinja

Kyoto is said to be the city of 1000 temples and shrines. There are the famous temples dating back to the days when Buddhism first arrived in Japan. There are the tiny shrines enshrining only the gods know who, hidden on steep mountain paths. And there are numerous small shrines at the centre of local neighbourhoods. One of these is Mikane Jinja a few streets west of the Manga Museum.

This neighbourhood was once the quarter of Kyoto’s metalworkers. Kamanza dori, for example, was the street of tea kettle makers. In 1588, Hideyoshi started minting gold coins, and when Ieyasu became shogun, he established a Kinza and Ginza (gold and silver mint, respectively) where the Manga Museum stands today.

This led to an influx of skilled artisans who worked at the mints and settled in the area. The mint also attracted money changers (and lenders) as well as people who worked with precious stones and minerals. Over time, the area became very prosperous. People living here could afford expensive clothes and accessories, which gave rise to the term “Ryogaemachi style”, named after one of the local streets.

The main deity of Mikane Jinja is Kanayamahoko-no-Mikoto, the God of metals, minerals, and mining. When exactly the shrine was established is not certain, but it is known, that it started as a small shrine on a private property somewhere in the area. More and more people came to worship at the shrine, and providing access at all times became a burden to the owners of the property. Therefore, in 1883, new land was donated, and the deities were moved to the newly constructed shrine that still stands on the very same spot.

Today, Mikane Shrine attracts people who pray for wealth and prosperity, as well as good fortune in businesses related to metals – mining, steel industry, car manufacturing, electronics etc. – or finance – investments, accounting, banking, real estate etc.

The most striking feature of Mikane Shrine is its golden torii. The shiny paint was especially developed by a local company to withstand outdoor conditions for many years. Gold is also the colour of the bell rope used to ring the bell before prayer, and a goshuin slip with real gold leaf is available at the shrine.

At the back of the precincts is a large ginkgo tree, 22 metres tall and 200 years old. In folklore, ginkgo trees are a symbol of prosperity, growth, and longevity and its leaves especially are a symbol of infinite good fortune. This is why many of the shrines’ omamori and omikuji are shaped like or feature ginkgo leaves, and in autumn, visitors may even ask for real leaves from the sacred tree to take home.

Mikane Shrine is accessible to worshippers 24/7, but its main festival is the reitai-sai festival in autumn. Held every year on the last weekend in September, it features a children’s procession and mikoshi parade as its main attractions. Food stalls and games for kids as well as a lucky draw add to the festive atmosphere.

If you are in town at this time, it’s a great way to experience a real neighbourhood festival in Kyoto and to mingle with the locals.

How to Make Zori

Zori are a type of Japanese-style flip flops. Traditionally, farmers made them during winter using rice straw from their fields. They were meant as footwear for outdoors and pretty much everybody wore them when walking short distances.

Interestingly, they are fairly durable. Remember that in the olden days of Edo, the streets were not paved, so little stones would get stuck in the gaps between the straw and over time create a durable sole. On wood surfaces or even tatami this would be disastrous, hence, they were always taken off before entering a home or temple.

Zori are still quite popular, and nowadays, they are also made from fabric, but this version is meant for indoors. They can be very colorful, and they are very comfortable in summer when it’s too hot for socks or slippers and you still don’t fancy walking barefoot.

Below is a video (in Japanese with subtitles) that teaches the process of making zori from old t-shirts step-by-step. It’s quite a way to go until summer, but it’s good to get a head start.

Concert

I’m busy today getting ready for this year’s very first BATI-HOLIC solo concert (aka in Japanese: one-man show). The place is fairly small and they sold out last week, and since I’m planning to stand in the first row, thank you, I’ll better be there before the doors open. I’ll check in later!

Later: This was so much fun! It’s great when the people are all fans of the band and go with the music. I didn’t quite make it to the first row, but I could secure a seat on a platform with tatami and small tables, and it’s easy to get up and dance there. It was perfect!

One thing I find always very interesting at such concerts is how quickly people tend to leave when everything is over. Some 15 minutes after the last encore, the place was half empty already. I stuck around with some friends, and I enjoy this part of chatting and drinking and having fun with them and the band members just as much as the music itself.

Goodness, I’m not turning into an extrovert, am I?

Hina Matsuri

Tomorrow is hina matsuri, the doll or girl festival. Traditionally, it was meant as a purification rite / blessing for girls, and to this day, there are religious ceremonies in many shrines in the country.

During the Edo period, the custom of setting up so-called hinadan with dolls in homes with girls started – ideally, one for each girl. The most elaborate hinadan have seven tiers, starting at the top with a pair of dairi-bina, which are accompanied on lower tiers by ladies-in-waiting, musicians, guards, and gardeners. Other tiers showcase miniature household goods that a young lady of means could not do without.

Growing up in a small house with lots of stuff that I wasn’t allowed to touch, I don’t usually put up seasonal decorations. However, there is something about hina matsuri that makes me give in, and I bought a very modern dairi-bina pair a few years ago. And then, last year, a friend of mine gave me a super cute pair of dairi-bina in the shapes of my zodiac animal, so…

The Meiji Guillotine Murders

Futaro Yamada

Tokyo, 1869. Two years after the Meiji Emperor took the throne, the country still reels from the aftermath of the Boshin Civil War. Yet, the government, now relocated to Tokyo (formerly known as Edo) tries to regain control and establishes an executive and judicial system after Western examples. The newly established Imperial Prosecuting Office is tasked with tackling the rampant corruption within the government itself.

Chief inspectors Kawaji and Kazuki are two brilliant detectives who are just the right people for this task. Together, and with the help of a shrine maiden who can summon the dead, they solve five impossible seeming murders of minor officials. However, are these murders as unconnected as they seem – or is there somebody pulling the strings from behind?

This historical crime novel is a fairly slow book. The first 100 pages or so only set the scene and introduce us to minor and major characters. The five cases are independent of each other and are solved as such. The puzzles are interesting and fun to solve, but there is no indication that there may be a mastermind behind all the murders; when his identity is revealed, it comes as a shock.

The introduction of the miko-medium to solve the murders seemed strange to me (Shinto doesn’t really deal with death), but since Yamada makes her a foreigner (who may have her own powers), I’ll forgive him for this.

Futaro Yamada was born 1922 in Hyogo Prefecture and studied medicine at Tokyo University. His first short story “The Incident at the Dharma Pass” was published in 1947, and he went on to write more than 100 novels and short stories in his lifetime. In Japan, his best-loved works are historical crime and ninja novels, and many of his books have been adapted for film or manga and anime. He died in 2001.

If you’re ready for something different with a long lead-in to set the scene, give this a try. You can get the book on amazon.

Hyakunin Isshu

For you,
I came out to the fields
to pick the first spring greens.
All the while, on my sleeves
a light snow falling.
Emperor Koko, 9th cent.

This is a poem from the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu, probably the most famous of all collections of Japanese poetry. The name can be translated as “One hundred people, one poem each” and this anthology of waka poetry was collected in Kyoto’s Arashiyama district. There, at Mt. Ogura, was the home of Fujiwara no Teika (1162-1241), himself considered one of Japan’s greatest poets.

He selected many poems by his contemporaries, but also by famous older poets whose work had been handed down for many years, among them 20 women. While there are many other anthologies of waka poetry, it is believed that this one became so famous because of the fame of Fujiwara no Teika – and because he had just the right connections to the Imperial court.

Writing waka poetry was one of the courtiers’ favourite pastimes, and to this day, the emperor himself gives out the prize for the best new year’s poetry. Most of the poems contained in the Hyakunin Isshu are love poems, and many of them allude to a time of the year using words like “cherry blossoms”, “full moon”, “crimson mountains” and others.

The poems and their writers have garnered lots of attention over the years; both feature prominently in woodblock prints or are alluded to in other Japanese works of literature. Since the Edo period, they also have a connection to the New Year in the form of the karuta game.

Karuta is a game of memory, where, when hearing the first half of a poem, the players must find the card with the second half as quickly as possible. There are karuta clubs throughout the country, and therefore, the poems of the Hyakunin Isshu are known by practically every Japanese. At home, it’s usually played as a team of three people – one who reads the beginning of the poem, and two who are trying to find the other half of the card as quickly as possible.

Since 1904, there is also competitive karuta, with the main tournament being held at Omi shrine in January, and roughly 50 other tournaments being held throughout the year. In Japan, there are more than 10,000 competitive players, and the game is even considered a sport.

The Hyakunin Isshu has been translated numerous times into a number of languages. Each translation brings a new aspect to the poetry, yet, there are many hidden meanings that are not only hard to translate, but may fly over the head of the unsuspecting foreign reader. For example, would you have guessed that the “first spring greens” in the above poem (translated by Peter MacMillan) are the nanakusa – seven herbs that are gathered and eaten on January 7 for a healthy winter?

A Death in Tokyo

Keigo Higashino

On a typical evening in Tokyo, a man staggers onto Nihonbashi Bridge and collapses in front of a policeman. However, he isn’t just drunk, he had been stabbed to death. Not long afterwards, a young man called Yashima is hit by a car nearby. In his possession he has the wallet of the dead man on the bridge.

When eventually a connection between the two men is found and Yashima dies from his injuries, the police close the case. But inspector Kaga is not so easily satisfied, and when he digs deeper into the murder victim’s life, the unearths a motive tied to the man’s strong belief in justice and taking responsibility.

An enjoyable read about two good men who have to pay the ultimate price – one for sticking to his principles and the other for letting go of them in a moment of weakness. Even though I felt that the mystery element wasn’t as strong as what I have come to expect from Higashino, I liked that there was a larger team involved in the investigation. This is closer to reality than the usual lone wolf detective of fiction.

Keigo Higashino, born 1958 in Osaka, started writing while still working as an engineer for a Japanese automotive company. His first novel won the prestigious Edogawa Rampo Award for crime fiction, which led him to become a professional author. Since then, he has written more than 65 novels and 20 short story collections, many of which have won awards or have been turned into films or TV series. About 20 of his books have been translated into English.

At the end of this book, there is an unexpected moral lesson that is timeless and transcends the boundaries of culture and language. Find out what it is and get the book on amazon.