December 23, 2009
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Aristos And Monks
Well, this was our last full day in Kyoto today. I can easily see returning here for a) a new experience in a different season b) taking advantage of crafts classes (I've decided I want to learn Ikebana now), and c) visit all the other things I missed! Kyoto is a wonderful city, truly world-class, and I'm so happy to have spent time here.
Today, we successfully went to Nijo-jo, the palatial grounds where the shogun worked and kept an eye on the emperor. As Aaron pointed out, while Europe went toward the opulet and ornate, Japan went for lush but simple. The mansion are those wood-and-paper constructions, with paper screens covered in gold leaf and, most shockingly to my western eyes, painted over by an artist. Yeah, painting on gold, which . . . covers over the gold, which no European aristo, even in the height of decadence, would do. Gold leaf, yes, gold thread, sure, but painting over gold? Louis XIV would swoon.
However, like their French contemporaries, the manion/palace was structred in such a way as to have several heirarchical chambers. You didn't get past a certain point, penetrating further into the palace, unless you had leave or status.
Of course, when the West finally got around to noticing the art of the East, and Art Nouveau took off, it took off using Japanese art as a touchstone. The geometric squares in cloud like atmosphere, the fine feathers of depicted birds, and the sparse backgrounds with very articulated, sharp-lined foregrounds were all features that caught on in imitative trends in the west.
Alas, Nijo-jo does not permit interior photography. Which, yeah, okay, flash=bad, or at least I thought. But they forbid sketching, which just smacks of "buy our postcard," which pisses me off. So I have lots of exterior shots. And, honestly, though lovely, I was not engaged by Nijo-ji as much as Tenryu-ji yesterday. It was a seat of power -- even an expression of power, as the Shogun had it built to remind the Emperor, who was out of power at the time, that he was a player and secondary to the power of the shogun. It was a place of business and intrigue, but it felt like a cheap penis play in my mind.
As a complete contrast to both Nijo-jo and Tenryu-ji, the famous Ryoan-ji Zen Buddhist rock garden we visited afterward was a study of both minimalism and contemplation. The grounds there are lush, but more wild and allowed to range a bit. The shrine building, though obscured by the reconstruction and plaforms, invite a more contemplative air detached from worldly power. The main feature is the garden of raked gravel and placed stones -- the opposite of the planted landscape garden (also on the grounds), following instead the purest essence of a Japanese garden as described in one of the oldest Japanese gardening tomes as "the art of setting stones."
Alas, the rain was coming down, and lingering was becoming an increasingly damp prospect. So we went to the Kyoto handicrafts center, as Aaron wanted to do some gift shopping, which he did in spades. That's where I decided I wanted to take an Ikebana class. Don't ask. Just pass the floral clay.
A detour after that to Kyoto station to get our shinkansen tickets back to Tokyo, another dinner at Popolare, and that's my last evening here in Kyoto. Tomorrow: Shinjuku.
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