Dancing on Temple Tops

With temperatures regularly reaching 35°~39°C/95°~100°F and humidity between 60 and 80%, summer in Kyoto can be rough, which makes the archeological textile rooms at local museums a particularly favorable summertime outing. Not only are the rooms temperature and humidity controlled to preserve the ancient fibers, but also the dimmed lighting that protects the ancient dye offers a welcome relief from the summer glare. So of course, when I saw a flyer advertising an exhibition of Noh kimono at Sen-Oku Hakuko Kan, I jumped at the chance to see it. Admittedly, I’m an avid kimono fan who would have jumped at the chance in midwinter as well, but my little museum excursion did make a particularly nice respite from the afternoon’s heat.

Noh is one of several theatrical traditions in Japan and dates back to the Muromachi period (c.1400-1500 AD). It’s thought that Noh evolved from a complex performance of acrobatics, dancing, music and singing that blended both the public performances presented to commoners and the solemn music, dance, and ceremonial performances at the imperial court and aristocrats’ residences. Due to its immense popularity, Noh plays drew large audiences and thus the costumes tended to feature bold graphic designs that helped to distinguish the role being played by reflecting some attribute of the character being represented.

Many of the kimono on exhibit dated from the Momoyama period and as such represent prototypes from which the tradition evolved. Noh robes also tend to be quite voluminous with relatively small sleeves. To some extent that reflects the prevailing structure of garments in the Momoyama period, but presumably this loose fit also facilitates quick costume changes for performers playing multiple roles. And although many of the designs appear to be embroidered, quite often they are the product of an intricate weave that manipulates dozens of shuttles to float variously colored weft threads across the patterned area. Although some of the oldest garments show a loss of pattern on certain sections as these threads have worn away, it’s truly remarkable how carefully these treasures have been preserved in a climate as humid and changeable as Japan.

Another unique feature of Noh robes is the use of color blocking as part of the design. It was the friend I saw the show with that drew my attention to that. Neither of us could recall seeing other types of kimono with such bold blocks of color that seemed to form a large checkerboard underlying the pattern. Though the example shown at left features an overall cherry blossom pattern in the foreground, many of the robes used those color blocks to bridge the seasons by placing a spring/summer pattern on one color block and a fall/winter pattern on the other, allowing greater versatility in the costume’s use throughout the year.

As suggested by all of what I’ve written so far, Noh costumes are among the most elaborate kimono still made. Noh is a living tradition that continues to be well loved by the Japanese people. The fabrics for modern Noh kimono are still woven here in my neighborhood of Nishijin and a new Noh theatre was recently constructed a few blocks down the street near my home. Performers wear not only these elaborate costumes but also intricately carved wooden masks. Painted with pigment and burnished to a pearl-like sheen, it is said that there are 60 basic types of masks, representing specific character types: men and women of various ages, demons, elders, warriors, ghosts and sprits etc.

Despite the elaborate costume and mask, very few stage props are used in telling the story. Thus, the full weight of characterization relies on the actor and costume. Colors and graphic patterns in the kimono and the type of mask worn, signal the nature of the character. From there, the story unfolds in the imagination of each audience member through movement and gesture, acting and singing. Each of the performer’s gestures and movements involves an elaborately ritualized choreography and it is said that the audience’s experience of the performance is dramatically affected by the position of their seating — not just closeness to the stage itself, but also whether the seat is positioned on stage left or stage right. As with so much else in life, each position offers a uniquely individual experience.

And today was that ever-so-exotic feast for the senses known as the Gion Matsuri parade….None of these carts are motorized.  Rather they are pulled forward with ropes by teams of young men, whose efforts are directed by the men holding fans riding at the front of the float.  Those sitting inside the float are musicians playing flutes and cymbals.  I only wish I could have also captured the music and dancing and all the festivities to go along with these few pictures….

With barely time to sweep up the remains of Tanabata, Kyoto has jumped into preparations for one of the largest oldest and most treasured festivals in Japan–Gion Matsuri! On side streets and main streets throughout downtown Kyoto, construction has begun on the 32 massive floats that will comprise the Gion Matsuri parade.

Matsuri actually just means “festival”, and Gion is a goryo-e, or protective festival meant to fend off medieval plagues and epidemics 1200 years ago, but it soon grew into a way for craft guilds and merchant families to compete in showing off their wealth and taste. Music, dance, comic plays, and artistic treasures had all become part of the celebrations by the close of the 10th century, creating a true feast for the senses. And in order to parade their accomplishments through the city, each group constructed huge wheeled carts decorated as sumptuously as their means and skills allowed. That tradition along with all of the accumulated artifacts have been carefully preserved and handed down so that once a year, each year these beautiful relics of the past can be brought out and reconstructed for the continuing celebration of Gion Matsuri.

Over these last few days since July tenth, the various groups have swarmed with activity in the sweltering July heat to begin putting these floats together. Although the floats can be several stories high, no nails are used in the construction. The enormous beams are simply lashed together with ropes as shown below. And at right, you can see the skeletal structures beginning to take form. Small streets are entirely blocked off, while major streets become restricted to a single lane that allows traffic to slowly crawl around the float during these festival days.

And of course we Kyotoites take a keen interest in the progress of the construction. As the floats grow, so does the festival atmosphere. Sight-seeing increases with each day as does the number of vendors selling cold drinks and a variety of souvenirs. Members of the “team” involved with each float can be recognized in the crowd because of their distinct summer kimono. At this particular float, the team members sport an indigo blue with a white carp design.

Within a building near each float, the float committee displays the fabulous artifacts that will eventually be used to decorate the completed float. From the late 16th century onwards, as a result of the growing prosperity of Kyoto’s merchants, artwork from China, Persia, and even Europe were transmitted eastward along the Silk Road until they found their way to the capital of Japan.

Many of the floats are decorated with Gobelin tapestries that are thought to have come from Holland in the early 17th century. I have been told that these remain the best preserved Gobelin tapestries in the world with European scholars frequently seeking a chance to examine them. Below is a photo of the “treasury” of the Koiyama (Carp Float) Preservation Society. Note the large carved wooden carp on the left of the photo. This carp, placed on top of the float, is the obvious source of the float’s name. Behind the carp is a section of Gobelin tapestry. The orange torii gate in the center of the picture, the candles on the altar and the folded paper streamers on the right are symbols of the purification ritual that preceded the beginning of construction for this year’s festival.

Preparations will continue for another several days, and then the grand parade itself takes place on July 17th.

It’s hot and humid and typically summer in Kyoto. The mountains that surround the city hold in a stagnant cloud of heat that settles over everything. Children and families and friends try to cool off by wading in the the Kamogawa river that runs down the east side of the city. Those who can try to excape the summer’s heat with foreign travel and since many of my friends are English teachers and college professors, I’ve had a week of good-byes as I see them off on their travels. They’ll be back in September when school starts up and the weather begins to cool.

For those of us who stay, summer holds a series of holidays beginning with Tanabata, the Star Festival. Occuring on July 7th, it is one of the five double-fortune days: January 1st (01/01) is the solar new year, February 2nd (02/02) is the lunar new year, March 3rd (03/03) is girls’ day, May 5th (05/05) boys’ day and July 7th (07/07) is Tanabata.

Tanabata celebrates two stars that appear to meet in the mid-summer night sky, although they normally remain quite distant through most of the year. According to mythological tradition, these stars represent Ori-hime (the weaving princess) and Hiko-boshi (the farmer), archetypes of skills needed by society. Through most of the year they busy themselves with their work, but take a summer break from their labors to enjoy each other’s company, then return refreshed and renewed, and re-doubled in their skills. To celebrate this holiday, Japanese adorn bamboo branches with colorful paper streamers and make wishes for acquiring or improving some personal skill. Traditionally, boys wish to improve their farming skills, while girls wish for better sewing skills, making it one of my favorite holidays all year.

For about a week before the 7th, there are bamboo branches set up throughout the city. The photo above was taken at my local shopping arcade and the wishes were probably written by local school children, who appear to have adorned their streamers with self-portraits.
The photo at left was snapped in front of the Kyoto police department. One can but wonder what skills they wished to improve…

As for me, I celebrated Tanabata with another Kyoto tradition – Tea ceremony. Tea was served in Koko-an, the tea room on the top floor of the Hosomi Museum. The lovely okashi sweets were served by Nishimura-san, while the elegant tea preparations were performed by Sakano-san.
As always the case with Tea, the preparations and utensils reflect and rejoice in the present moment. The utensils were carried into the room in a chabako, typical of the season and the bowl in which tea was served is decorated with bamboo fronds and Tanabata streamers. It was a beautiful way to enjoy a summer’s afternoon.

Among the many blessings of my life in Kyoto, my friendship with Judith Clancy, author of Exploring Kyoto is definitely quite high on the list. Aside from the pleasure of her company, her enthusiasm for life and all that it offers has given her a knowledge base that she willingly and readily shares. No matter what I’ve wanted to do, who I’ve wanted to meet or where I’ve wanted to go, Judith always knows the best and most enjoyable way to get there, who I should see and when would be the best time to go.

Having lived in Kyoto since 1970, Judith eagerly embraced the culture, studying a wide range of Japanese arts. And over the years, she’s become certified in Tea ceremony and well-practiced in the art of ikebana as well as interpretor for a number of international culture groups and translator for several books on Japanese textiles.

All of this knowledge and love for Japanese culture and the city of Kyoto has been distilled into a wonderful Kyoto City guidebook called Exploring Kyoto — on foot in the ancient capital. With the recent release of it’s third printing, the book has been newly revised and updated throughout. Exploring Kyoto will not only provide its readers with a walking guide through Kyoto’s streets and neighborhoods but also guide the reader through the exotic history of one of Asia’s most ancient cities. A quick peek at the reviews on Amazon will show you that it’s also the guide that even we Kyoto residents buy and use.

As an avid traveler herself, Judith can truly appreciate the finer points of tourism — those little details that make traveling a joy instead of a hassle — and she brings that perspective to bear in operating Kyoto Workshops, her own Kyoto-based tour business. Always mindful of the varying needs and interests of her clients, she has successfully arranged personalized tours for a wide range of tastes — Chinese dignitaries, martial arts enthusiasts, and art conoisseurs to name a few.

When not busy guiding private tours or writing her next book on Kyoto restaurants, Judith makes herself at home in an old Nishijin weaver’s studio that she remodeled into a beautiful home nestled in a tiny back alley near Myorenji Temple. Preserving the high beamed ceilings of the weaving studio but installing heated flooring to protect against the cold damp of Kyoto winters, she has turned her home into a perfect backdrop not only for her fabulous art collection but also her exquisite flower arrangements, both of which she changes constantly to reflect the season in perfect Kyoto style.

June is the month of Ajisai and their blooms just fill the city everywhere. My grandmother called them “hydrangea”, but that name never seemed to capture their elegance or soft femininity. So I tend to use their Japanese name ajisai (aah-gee-sigh), a softer sound that invokes the warm sighs of a languid summer day. I love the deep purples, rich blues and cherry pinks, the big round pompoms and the disk-like shapes that flower only at the edges.

On a June day the flowers are everywhere — they light my path as I bike around the city. Tall bushes spill their blooms over temple walls. Small bushes of cherry pink that sit at my neighbor’s door step or poke through the chain link fence at the school playground.

Beauty blooms on the street corner in front of the bank and along the edges of the canal by Philosopher’s Path, giving delight to all those passing whether they stop for momentary enjoyment or just savor a quick glance while continuing on their run.

Cherry blossom time may have world-wide fame, but in truth, Kyoto is a city in love with its flowers throughout the whole year round.

Recently my friend and ikebana mentor Kazuko Nishikawa was invited to arrange flowers for an exhibition of maiko kimono at the Some Museum (Museum of Dyed Textiles). Maiko are apprentice geisha and their elaborate kimono are much more ornate and theatrical than those worn by the average Japanese woman. As befitting a young woman, the kimono are furisode style with long sleeves. And as shown at the picture at bottom, the obi also has long trailing ends instead of the more common flat square knot worn by married women.

Since maiko are apprentices and have not yet developed the range of social skills

exercised by fully trained geisha, their duties mostly involve music and dance performances, which accounts for the colorful theatrical style of their kimono.

Maiko kimono are of course frequently decorated with brightly colored flowers and butterflies, but literary motifs are also common as are symbols of a traditional lifestyle. The blue kimono above features decorated clam shells, representing the kai awase game that was popular during the Heian era in the 11th century. Similar to the card game “Concentration”, the game used sets of clamshells rather than cards. Matching scenes were painted on the interior surfaces of each pair of shells, while the exterior surfaces were polished to a smooth blank, making hard to recognize which pairs would go together when all of the clamshells were placed with the painted side down. Some of the older sets contained as many as 360 pairs of shells, though simplified sets of 54 pairs based on scenes from Tale of Genji later became popular.

There are about 100 to 150 maiko in Kyoto. Most live and work in the Gion or Ponto-cho areas on the east side of town. They are considered professional entertainers and tourists flock to the area to glimpse a “geisha”, just as Hollywood tourists might hope to see a movie star. Maiko dance movements are highly stylized and use the long flowing sleeves to add a graceful flutter. The dance often represents a poem or enacts a literary scene. Click here to view a brief performance.

May is the season of shin-cha or “new tea”, when tender spring leaves are harvested to make tea. And somewhere up in the hills in the southeast of Kyoto prefecture lies the tiny village of Wazuka surrounded by emerald green tea fields. Since tea is one of the quintessential experiences of Japan, the Kyoto Prefectural International Center sponsored a tea-picking tour for foreigners last Saturday. It was a great chance for a whole bus load of us to get away from the city for a day and enjoy the rolling countryside. Most of my fellow tea-pickers were foreign students studying at one of the many universities in Kyoto. From Taiwan and Lithuania, Thailand and Ireland, the Ukraine, Italy and a long list of more places than I can now remember, the two hour ride itself was an experience in internationalism.

For a few of our group, there was the chance to don the traditional fieldworker’s garb made from wonderful indigo-dyed ikat cottons with layers of aprons and scarves and fingerless gloves in bright turquoise. With fewer outfits available than the number of people who wanted to wear them, we played several rounds jyunken (similar to the game of “rock-paper-scissors” played in the US) to whittle that number down. Sadly, I was knocked out in the first round, but one of my friends Kiyomi Yatsuhashi (shown above) was lucky enough to be among the chosen. Only the top two or three leaves of new growth are picked and dropped into the wicker basket at her side.

Even without the delights of the costume, there was a relaxing beauty of being in the tea field. Looking up the hillside, rows of tea bushes criss-cross the slope and electric fans gently whizz away any low-lying fog. Some of the bushes are shielded from sunlight with a loosely stitched mesh of vinyl ribbons. The covered bushes produce a lighter sweeter and more delicate tea, while tea from the exposed bushes is stronger and more astringent.

Sadly our rain-shortened venture into the fields produced only meager tea pickings, but these were battered and fried, then served as tea-leaf tempura with our lunch.

And a little P.S. on 5/17: One of the others on our trip just sent me this photo of the eight lucky people who won the chance to dress up in traditional tea-pickers clothing:
On the far right are my friends, Kiyomi Yatsuhashi and Moya Bligh. Third from the right is Aliona Yefimova from Lithuania, who gave me this picture.

In response to a request for pictures from my shopping spree the other day, may I present a dozen obi.




Of course, this is only a part of the collection….

What can one do with a dozen obi? There are a myriad possibilities. To jumpstart one’s imagination, I can certainly recommend Diane Wiltshire’s fabulous book, Design with Japanese Obi for home decor ideas.

And when it comes to handbags, accessories and wearables, oh my lord!, the sky’s the limit. They look fabulous patchworked with dupioni silk and they REALLY dress up denim…

Today was a glorious day in Kyoto. One of those gorgeous days when you feel spring turning into summer. We’ve had lots of rain this spring, which has turned everything lush and vibrant green, but today was warm and the sky was blue, making you feel summer on its way. And on a beautiful day like today, I had the chance to visit the warehouse of a vingage kimono dealer. I confess I didn’t know quite what to expect, but I did feel it would be a privileged peek into an inner sanctum of fabulous fabrics.

So it was kind of surprising to find the barren walls, metal rung shelving brimming with vintage obi and burgeoning plastic bags, sometimes spilling their colorful contents across the floor. And just stacks and stacks of fabrics everywhere.

Unlike the flea markets, where vendors try to catch the eye of passing shoppers, this was purely warehousing with only narrow passages between the piles and bundles. If there was an order to this chaos, it was known only to the owner, as he confidently moved through his storehouse, pulling out a variety of items for me to swoon over. He seemed so amused as I oo-oohed and awed with each new offering. Although the years I have spent in Kyoto has allowed me to become a somewhat jaded veteran flea-market shopper, the sheer quantity of beauty packed into such a small space overwhelmed even me.

Pictured below is an embroidered wedding kimono.

Click on the image for a closer look at the embroidered details.

I confess that within 30 or 40 minutes, I had spent every last dime in my pocket and on the ride home, my poor bike wobbled under the heavy load of my purchases. It was a glorious day.