In dark, saturated ink, the Zen monk Nishigaki Sōkō wrote an impressive, solitary character with a bold and a vigorous brush stroke on the paper. The strong contrast between ink and paper as well as the massive character that was set without any trace of pause give a clue of its importance. Though the calligraphy was written in jet black ink, some parts within the brush strokes give the look free on the paper. The so called “flying white” speaks of the moment when the brush’s hair is not touching the paper as if flying over the ground. The ink captures a dynamic process and irretrievable writing gesture in time. Its vibrant impression invites the viewer to follow the movement of the brush and its “ink trace” (bokuseki 墨跡) – as calligraphies of eminent Zen monks were called since 13th century. Nishigaki Sōkō started with a thin horizontal line that is then crossed from the left to the right with three vertical, bold brush strokes. The last one is a bit longer and continuous in a loop followed by a narrow, downward zigzag that keenly abbreviates the four tiny dots of the normed character “wu” 無. The single Chinese word – that is spelled “mu” in Japanese – means “no” or “nothing” and hints as an abbreviated quotation to several stories of the Zen Buddhist canon.
In his famous poem for succeeding the dharma transmission, the sixth patriarch Huineng (638–713) is said to use the word in the quintessential line: “Originally, [there is] not a single thing” (本来無一物, J.: honrai muichi butsu). The single poem line grasps the very essence of the Zen Buddhist teaching in five Chinese characters. It states that basically there do not exist any concepts of the world or of our self by nature. They are a construction of our own mind. According to the Buddhist conviction of emptiness (Skr. śunyatā, Jap. kū 空) the world does not consist of permanent, unalterable things or substances. The world is rather an everlasting becoming that cannot be expressed in its wholeness by discriminating and thus limiting words or concepts.
The same idea is expressed in a more humorous way a bit later in form of an kōan that was published 1229 in the Wumen guan 無門關 (Jap. Mumonkan, “Gateless Checkpoint”). According to that case, a monk came to master Zhaozhou Congshen 趙州從諗 (778–897, Jap. Jōshū Jūshin) and asked him: “Does a dog has the Buddha nature?” Zhaozhou just replied, possibly in a barking like tone: “Wu!” (“No [such thing]!”). Here, Zhaozhou does not directly answers the question by just saying that a dog has no Buddha nature. Rather, he replies on the concept that underlies the question of the monk, which is a dualistic distinction between the enlightened and the unenlightened mind. What he says is: Stop speculative thinking! If one realizes that there is “no single thing” in the world we can stick on, one frees himself from suffering and abides in the peaceful serenity of nonassertion. That is what the calligraphy reminds of.
Want to buy this scroll? Have a look here: http://galeriekommoss.com/
Tsujimura Shirō, born 1947 in Gosei, Nara prefecture, is one of the most innovative and all-round talents in Japanese pottery scene. Since the late 70’s his works are exhibited in countless solo- and group shows and became part of numerous international collections. Exceptional is, that he not only works in many different traditional pottery styles like Shigaraki-Stil, Iga, Shino, Kohiki, Ido, Kuro-Oribe, Setoguro, but presents with his unrivaled grasp for glazes and shapes outstanding results in all of them. The example shown above is a flower vase made of sandy clay with natural ash glaze (shizenyû 自然釉), partly melted to clear, emerald green “dragonfly eyes” (tonbo no me 蜻蛉の目). It is available at http://www.galeriekommoss.com
Chaire are Japanese small lidded ceramic containers for carrying tea (cha means „tea“ and ire is a word for „put sth. in“). Originally they came from 12th century China where this kind of container was used for holding medicine or valuable oils. But at least at the end of Muromachi period (1336–1573) they were used as exquisite tea caddies to contain the green tea powder during the tea ceremony. It is said that for some members of the ruling warrior class they were even more valuable than the own sword. Due to high demand and exclusive prices for the Chinese items and a change of taste, the first Japanese production was just a matter of time. Potters from the six old kilns, the oldest Japanese pottery production sites, developed soon an own language of forms according to their traditional technics. Since then a distinction was made between karamono – objects in a Chinese manner – and wamono – the Chaire in a Japanese style.
All pieces selected for the exhibition are from the last category of wamono made by masters from Bizen and Shigaraki in Japan. One is a rare work by the higly talented and far too early passed Bizen artist Masamune Moriyasu (Satoru) (1954-2006). Like Ueda Naokata IV. (1898-1975) from Shigaraki, Masamune was orientating on the old, rather simple pieces made in the Momoyama period (1573-1603) – the golden age of tea ceramics. The Ueda family is along with the Takahashi family, the oldest potter family in Shigaraki and largely responsible for preserving traditions, especially after the second world war. Ueda Naokata IV. was designated as Shigaraki’s first „Intangible Cultural Property“. Takahashi Rakusai IV. (*1925) – presented here with two exceptional pieces – is probably the most famous Shigaraki potter. He succeeded his father the third Takahashi who was designated as „Intangible Cultural Property“ by government. But also Bizen artist Kimura Tōhō (*1928) arose from a familiy traditon with a long history. The Kimuras were designated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537-1598) himself as o-sakunin (honorable craftsmen).
For more informations about the objects visit: http://www.galeriekommoss.com
Some time ago a Zen Buddhist calligraphy was exhibited in the tea room of Berlin’s East Asian Art Museum. In a carefully selected and beautifully arranged composition, paired with a big, round vase of contemporary potter Tsujimura Shiro (*1947), the lightly swung characters of the hanging scroll were charming mind and eyes. The colours of the mounting matched perfectly with those of the tea room’s walls and floor and resonated harmonically in the natural ash glace of the vase. However, next to the heavy piece of stoneware the calligraphy comes along with easiness and a certain kind of carefreeness, expressed in the big dynamically roundly brushed characters. It seems here, that the style of the script makes evident itself what the meaning of the sentence speaks of. The five character with the spelling Heijōshin kore dō 平常心是道 are saying: “A well balanced heart, always calm and quite – that’s the way.”
The single line was written by Daitoku-ji’s Zen master Kobayashi Taigen (*1938). In his playfull handwriting he offers the viewer a complex and sophisticated game of meanings, which is typical for Zen Buddhist art. The first term heijō means “normality” or “everyday”, but consists of the two characters which literally mean “calm, quite or peacefull” and “always”. Together with the third character shin (“heart”) it gets the literal meaning “self control” and “readiness of mind” and is offen a bit misleadingly translated as “the every day mind”. The best explanation, however, is given in the historical Chinese book, this short quotation refers to: the Wumenguan 無門関 (“The gateless gate”, Jap. Mumonkan) that was published in year 1229 by the Zen master Wumen Huikai 無門慧開 (1183–1260). In the collections of commented texts, the publisher Wumen offered in the 19. chapter following episode:
Zhaozhou asked Nanquan: “What is the way?” Nanquan answered: “A well balanced heart, that is the way.” Zhaozhou asked: “Should I try to direct myself toward it or not?” Nanquan said: “If you try to do so, you betray your own practice.” Zhaozhou asked “How can i know the way if I don’t direct myself?” Nanquan said: “The way is not subject to knowing or not knowing. Knowing is delusion, not knowing is blankness. If you truly reach the genuine way, you will find it as vast and boundless as outer space. How can this be discussed at the level or affirmation and negation?” With these words Zhaozhou had sudden realization.
Wumen commented the story with following poem: “Spring has its flowers, autumn the moon. Summer a fresh breeze and winter the snow. When idle concerns don’t hang in your mind – that’s the men’s best season.”
Kobayashi Taigen 小林太玄 was born 1938 in Shenyang and lost his parents at the age of six. At this time he was given to monastery, where he was raised up. In 1961 he completed a degree at Hanazono University in Kyōto where he thereafter trained under Ōtsu Rekidō, the 130th abbot of Shōkoku-ji. He then succeeded Ōbai-in’s abbot Miyanishi Genshō at Kyōto’s famous Daitoku-ji.
Galerie Kommoss is currently offering a calligraphy and a brushed and inscribed Ensō circle by Kobayashi Taigen. Have a look on www.galeriekommoss.com. We look forward to your visit!
Currently visiting Japan for conducting research and spotting new interesting works of art, I don’t want to hold back one of the gallery’s new arrivals. In Japan autumn is still in its full bloom and so it is on this beautiful Meiji period (1868–1912) lacquer table. Finely carried out in gold and silver on black lacquer, a magnificent flower bouquet is depicted that is typical for Japan’s autumn season–as the nature is still presenting us right now due to the relatively mild climate. The about 30 centimeter high and 30 cm width one-foot table (or takatsugi 高坏) for serving food is allover covered by a masterful composition of flowers reminding us of the passing summer: peony, morning glory (asagao 朝顔) and lily (yuri 百合) or representing the autumn: chrysanthemum (kiku 菊), clover (hagi 萩), pink (nadeshiko 撫子) and bell flower (kikyô 桔梗). When the temperature drops outside and we are getting close to Christmas the glow of Japanese golden lacquer gives the home a cozy touch.
Since the 13th century writings by Zen Buddhist masters are called bokuseki 墨跡, “ink traces”. The two main aspects of the Zen Buddhist art of writing are expressed in the two Chinese characters: On the one hand, writing is a visible trace of language, that is able to remove meanings from any time-spatial distances. On the other hand, the ink, soaked in the writing ground, refers to the creative act of writing, whose process of movements can be “re-traced” in viewing the art work. According to Chinese art theory the second aspect is, moreover, also considered as a possibility to get an instant impression of the writer’s character and attitude. “Words are the sound of the mind and script is the picture of the mind”, says a quote by Han-time philosopher and poet Yang Xiong (53 b.c. – 18 a.c.), that reminded Chinese Author Guo Ruoxu in his 1080 published work on history and theory of art. Against this background, it was more or less self declared aim of Japanese Zen monks to visually express their serene mind that was liberated over years of meditation and to give this way proof of their “true self”. Due to one reason writing is sought to be one of the preferred instruments to do so: the ink-saturated brush detects seismographically the smallest change of the position of the hand, the pressure or movement and uncorrectably records even the slightest indecision on the writing ground. Thus, writing this way is less to be regarded as an artist’s free expression – and therefor also not to be mistaken as a type of “calligraphy” (the beautiful writing) – but more as a quasi-religious act.
The way of writing as a visual expression of the own inner self was particularly cultivated in the monasteries of the Rinzai school, what centered all modes of Chinese learning in Japan from the 13th to 16th century. Already the Chinese Zen master and founder of this Zen school Linji Yixuan (?–867) stressed the importance and efficiency of actively dynamic exercises as tools on the way to enlightenment. The Rinzai monasteries where thereby creating a context, which enabled the monks to make usage of poetries, painting and writing to legitimately express Buddhist insights. With the usage of writing also the transmission of textual knowledge was ensured as fragments and quotations from the rich canon of Zen Buddhist literature were reproduced as short aphorisms. These mostly own a deeper and often not obvious meaning on which the viewer is stimulated to reflect on. Beyond that, further meanings are often added through the pictorial qualities of the Chinese script and the painting qualities of writing with a brush. This way, most complex and multilayered artworks arise, which successfully detract from a clear categorization like a distinction between script and picture or between pictorial art and literature. As works of high formal and aesthetic standard as well as a medium of religious and epistemic contents, ink traces by Zen Buddhist masters enjoy high recognition since the 13th century not only within sacral circles.
On exhibit are eight works (including two circular ensô paintings) from the 20th century written by six different Zen masters of the Daitoku-ji temple, which can be viewed against this background of the 700-year old tradition described above.
Enjoy to discover further informations about each scroll and the meaning of their content on: http://www.galeriekommoss.com!
During my frequent strolls as a guide through the Museum of Asian Art in Berlin, I always find something new and interesting. This is partly due to the fact that only ten percent or so of the museum’s treasuries are on display. The objects are changed regularly in the exhibition areas. And so was this. A piece, I have never seen (or recognized?) before, suddenly attracted my attention: A wonderful Japanese hand fragment of a colossal buddhist statue from the Heian period (794–1185). The about 30 centimeter long item is depicting the right hand of a Buddha in the gesture of abhaya mudrā (“gesture of fearlessness”), which is presented quite popularly by several Buddha and Bodhisattva pictures as a posture of greeting and protection for those who are taking refuge in the way of Buddhism. The right arm raised, fingers pointing up and the flat palm facing towards the viewers standpoint, it is symbolizing as well the prevention from evil and is also a commonly depiction of Hindu deities.
However, someone might ask, why I claim this a Buddha’s hand, since it has a palm and five fingers like any common hand too? If you watch closely, one can identify a connection between the fingers (broken at the thumb, but obvious between small and ring finger). These ‘webs’ are referring to one of the 32 major “characteristics attributed to a Great Man” (Skt. mahāpuruṣa lakṣaṇa). They are listed and described in the Lakkhaṇa Sutta, thirtieth article of the Buddhist scripture Dīgha Nikāya (“Collection of Long Discourses”, one of three parts that compose the earliest and most complete buddhist literature, the Pali Canon). As quoted there at the sixth position, the toes and fingers of a Great Man are finely webbed. So this small detail, which at first glance appears to be a mere construction help for the dry lacquer made (Jap. kanshitsu-zukuri 乾漆造) and gilded hand, clearly indicates this fragment to be the hand of a Buddha.
With its elegantly and delicately detailed finger position, the hand is giving a glimpse of the former, entire figure’s peace and harmony. Even if it is true, that Buddha has reached parinirvāṇa, the final deathless state, and abandoned his earthly body, it seems here, he left us self-sacrificially a trace leading to enlightment.