The Beauty of Bamboo

 

    If I were rich -- filthy rich, I mean -- I wouldn't spend my money on jewelry, designer bags, or fancy cars.  Nope-- my "discretionary spending" would be on bamboo artworks, especially the modern stuff.  I just love it! 

    I love bamboo for its versatility, its resilience (it will literally take over your garden if you let it) and its practicality.  I've read that there are some 1,450 species of bamboo worldwide. Wherever bamboo grows, people have used it in a multitude of different ways -- they eat it, make shelters, utensils and weapons from it, and create works of art out of it.  There's even reputedly a nasty form of torture that takes advantage of the extraordinary speed at which it grows (one species can grow at 1.2 meters a day), but we won't go into unpleasant stuff like that in this friendly blog.  

     They say that high-quality bamboo can have the strength of steel.  Nowadays, people have discovered that bamboo flooring is attractive and ecologically sound.  But such applications  are just the tip of the iceberg.  We modern folks just getting on the band wagon a bit late after this practical and beautiful material has already been in use for millennia. 


     The aspect of bamboo that appeals to me most, however, is its aesthetic rather than practical use.  I have some lovely old bamboo baskets in the "Becky Collection," all of which are now, out of necessity, stored away where I can't appreciate them. Sob, sob!  Among my favorites is one I got for almost nothing at a Japanese recycle shop where the young whippersnapper who priced it had no idea what he was holding -- thank you very much!    
                 

Lovely old artisan bamboo basket

     Don't get me wrong -- if someone were to give me this lovely old Japanese basket, I'd be thrilled to have it.  It would be a great addition to my small-but-beloved basket collection.  How could anyone not appreciate the dark twig that's been incorporated into the handle and body of this work of art?

      However, it's the modern stuff that really appeals to me, like this room-sized installation, a recent work by a trained "bamboo artist" called Shochiku Watanabe, pictured below.  Unfortunately, no abode of mine would ever be big enough to accommodate such a piece, so I'll have to settle for smaller ones like these others (not that I could afford any of them, either!)

Recent Bamboo Art Installation by Shochiku Tanabe

My birthday is coming soon. I want this!

     

Or this.  Either will do.

      












   
                        What amazes me is the amount of training and skill a bamboo craftsman has to have.  For example, this artist, Shochiku Tanabe, comes from a line of craftsmen or should I say "artisans," whose family art name is Chikuunsai.  So far there have been three before him who carried this name and, when the time comes, Shochiku-san will become the fourth.  He's in his early 40s now, I believe.  I saw on a recent NHK World TV show (my favorite channel, by the way) that, after graduating from college with a degree in art, he spent three years simply splitting and preparing bamboo before being allowed to spend another eight years learning how to fashion things out of it.  That takes a lot of patience and forbearance, but that's the Japanese way. 
 

Shochiku Tanabe and his work

      
      The thing is, though, for every skilled, trained artisan like those in the Chikuunsai line, there are millions of simple, ordinary folk scattered around the world, quietly using their skill and experience to produce their own works and products out of bamboo.  They'll never get global recognition, they'll never have their handicrafts on display in museums.  At best they'll get just a small amount of the local currency for their work.  Yet their creations have their own value and charm and perhaps more "justification for their existence" than more "collectible" pieces.  

      Whether it's a room-sized installation created solely for viewers to appreciate on the aesthetic level or simply an item for daily use, it's all art to me (and many others, I hasten to add.  I obviously didn't originate this momentous concept.)  But I respect both because I couldn't do either myself. Perhaps it'd be smarter for me to yearn for what I can afford, like this simple, utilitarian bread basket that can be found online at "housewaresvietnam.com."  

       Whatever craft we love, whatever items we acquire to use or collect, whatever we feel we can afford, we should all keep this pithy quote about all handmade items in mind:

 Purchase from artisans or craftspeople who enjoy creating their wares. The object holds that positive energy and it spreads.

Mt. Fuji -- Part 2 (New Renditions of the Mountain)

You can buy this t.p. online!

I am pretty even if I look! I use it and am interesting! In a present! I use underflow water of print toilet paper ♪ Mount Fuji!

     What's that gibberish above?  It's the English translation of an online sales pitch that probably sounded pretty good in the original Japanese.  I may not understand the explanation, but I know what this is about because I've seen this Mt. Fuji toilet paper with my own eyes.  

A stack of Fuji-san toilet paper

       

        This toilet paper is one of the many new products centered around Mt. Fuji.  Now that it's been designated Japan's 17th UNESCO World Heritage Site, it's all the rage here in Japan.  It's now one of the country's 13 cultural heritage sites, and there are long with its four natural heritage sites. Why a mountain would be considered a "cultural" site rather than a "natural" one is evident when you learn that it's registered as  “Mt. Fuji: Object of Worship, Wellspring of Art.”  

       But why is that?  At first, they went for the logical "natural heritage site" designation.  However the huge amount of garbage and human waste on Japan's magnificent mountain made that designation difficult to get, so they went for the "cultural" one instead.  And, after a number of years and a concerted clean-up effort they finally got it.  These designations are revocable, however, so they must not give up on environmental projection on and around Fuji-san.

    But back to the toilet paper . . . .  I first saw this stuff on display in -- of all places -- the local post office here in Ogawa-machi.  Instantly I knew I had to have some, but they wouldn't sell it to me under any circumstances. I never did understand what you had to do to get a roll from them, but I see that it's available online at about a dollar a roll.  Maybe I don't want it that badly, even though a portion of the proceeds are donated to the Fuji Club, a group of some 6,000 volunteers who do clean-ups on the mountain they love about 60 times a year. 

Cool designer Tomohiro Ikegaya

Mt. Fuji Tissue Holder

Mirrored paper inside makes Mt. Fuji reflection

      Besides toilet paper, many other clever Fuji-themed products have popped up recently.  Among the most interesting are the ones designed by a 32-year-old, Tomohiro Ikegaya, who grew up in the shadow of Fuji-san. 

Mt. Fuji pocket square

       Talk about good design!   He's created a pocket square that, when folded properly shows that familiar scene. There's an envelope with a mirrored piece inside so when the flap is open, you get that same reflection of Mt. Fuji that you see in the lake below -- you know, the one in all the famous tourist attraction photos. Among his super-creative Mt. Fuji products are a mountain-shaped blue guitar pick.  Over time and with hard use, the paint on the end of the pick chips off, revealing a white top, just like Fuji-san. 

Now it's just a cloth

   Then there's this clever washcloth or towel that looks quite simple ordinarily.  But when it's draped over something, voila--it becomes a fabric Mt. Fuji.   Amaze all your friends and family members after your bath!

Presto-change-o, it's Fuji-san!

Fold it right and Fuji-san appears

      I could go on with this stuff forever, but you get the idea.  Suffice it to say that:
     1)  Mt. Fuji is now big business here in Japan.
     2)  Ikegaya-san is a very smart fellow to follow  his heart, stick to something he loves and make money at it. 

Don't we all wish we were doing that?  I do envy those who are!   

Fantastic Fuji-san -- Part 1

   I don't have to to tell you what this is, do I?   One thing I do want to mention for any foreign readers is that "Fuji-san" doesn't mean "Mr. Fuji," as I used to think before I got here a few decades ago.  That "san" is not a title of respect, but rather the Japanese word for "mountain."  So, if you call it "Fuji-san," the Japanese way, you're not saying "Mr. Fuji,"  but rather "Mt. Fuji" or, more accurately, "Fuji Mountain."

     Whatever you call it, this mountain is  one of the most iconic images of Japan, certainly one of the most important places in Japanese history, culture and, of course, Japanese hearts. In that sense, it's right up there with cherry blossoms, and if you've ever seen it sort of hovering like a dream  in the distance, you'd feel its mystery yourself, believe me!

          Geographically speaking, Mt. Fuji is a "stratovolcano" -- a tall, conically-shaped volcano formed from many layers ("strata") of lava, ash and other scientific stuff, all of which piled up to make Fuji-san Japan's highest mountain. Just FYI, its footprint is oval-shaped and it is located precisely where three tectonic plates meet, making it highly likely to erupt sometime soon.  It's been dormant for 300 years now, and it's long overdue, they say.  In fact  one Japanese researcher has written  a book about how it's due to erupt in 2015!   

      Whether he's right or wrong, the Japanese in charge of such things are certainly taking their emergency and evacuation plans very seriously these days.  It would be ironic indeed, if, after it was finally declared a UNESCO site as it was in June of 2013, Fuji-san blew its top and disappeared or caused untold numbers of people to lose their lives and/or property. The last time it erupted, back in 1707, volcanic ash fell on Tokyo.  Do you know what volcanic ash does to things like train lines?  Well, that's a story for another day . . . . . .

       It's not the size or height of Fuji-san that makes it so special -- it's the unusual shape and the fact that it's so, well, solitary.  If it were tucked into one of Japan's many mountain ranges, instead of floating in isolated splendor like a mirage, it surely wouldn't have gotten the recognition and attention it has enjoyed since the 8th century.  

         For the Japanese, Mt. Fuji, like cherry blossoms, has s cultural significance far beyond what they actually are.  Here, cherry blossoms are more than just flowers, and Fuji-san is more than just a mountain.  For one thing, it has a long religious history. It's one of Japan's "Three Holy Mountains," and it's been regarded as a sacred place since people started living around it.  Followers of Shinto, Japan's native religion, believe it's the holy abode of the goddess Sengen-sama, and there's a shrine at the summit dedicated to her.  Some of the summer hikers to the top are actually religious pilgrims and for them, climbing Mt. Fuji is an important religious ritual.  The many tourists, on the other hand, might consider it to be a very challenging and arduous hike.   

    Fuji-san is important for Buddhists, too.  In fact, it's named for their goddess of fire, called Fuchi.  They consider it to be the gateway to another world.  And even for tourists, in a sense that's true.  After you've clawed your way up to the summit, battling crowds, extreme thirst, incredible fatigue and -- worst of all -- altitude sickness, you might have a religious experience despite your original intention.  You'll certainly have a better opinion of yourself and enjoy a sense of pride that stays with you a long time.

    Whatever your reason for ascending Mt. Fuji, you really ought to do it if you visit Japan and are fit enough for a serious hike that requires planning and provisions. (It takes 8 hours and can only be done during the months of July & August, the official climbing season.)  After all, there's wisdom in proverbs, and a famous Japanese one goes like this:

 "He who climbs Mount Fuji once is a wise man, he who climbs twice is a fool."