Arts and crafts of old Japan by Stewart Dick.

CHAPTER VIII

LANDSCAPE GARDENING AND THE ARRANGEMENT OF FLOWERS

No review of Japanese art, however superficial, can pass over without mention one of the most interesting of all its phases—the application of its conventions to the living and plastic forms of nature in the sister arts of landscape gardening and the arrangement of flowers. And here, as in other departments, the Japanese artist does not seek dully and slavishly to copy nature, but by a frank and dexterous use of these conventions he endeavours to suggest its spirit

By this departure from mere literal truth he attains a wider fidelity to nature. In the limited space at his disposal he knows that he cannot transplant a piece of natural scenery—he must work to scale—but his miniature rocks, trees, hills, and streams are so exquisitely proportioned as to express within the area of a few yards the breadth and expanse of nature.

So, too, in flower arrangement, the master secures the appearance of naturalness by the most careful and daring manipulation. Twigs and stems are twisted and broken, leaves and petals even shaped and cut, to produce the effect apparently so spontaneous, so free from artificiality.

And the reason is obvious. The defect or incongruity that would pass unnoticed amid the wealth and profusion of the living plant, balanced with superb ease by countless other points of interest so that the eye could not dwell on the deformity, when transferred to the narrower field of the flower vase, stands out with awful distinctness, and assumes an importance which formerly it did not possess. The artist dare not take the liberties which Nature allows herself. Her keyboard is limitless, but his harmonies must be built up of a few carefully selected chords.

The rise of both arts dates from that wonderful period of awakening—the coming of the Buddhist priests in the sixth century. The first gardens were those of the old Buddhist temples; the first flower arrangements were placed as offerings before their shrines.

Among the earliest examples of landscape gardening were the temple groves of Byōdō-in (Jap. 平等院) at Uji, and Tōdai-ji (Japanese: 東大寺, literally: ‘Great Temple of the East’) and Kōfuku-ji (jap. 興福寺) at Nara, and this old style of temple garden, simple and severe, was called Shinden-Shiki,*) but little is known regarding the details of its arrangement.

*)The Shinden-zukuri (or Shinden-shiki) style refers to the architectural design of aristocratic residential palaces during Japan’s Heian period (794–1185), which heavily influenced the design of shrines and temple structures. It is characterized by symmetry, openness, and a harmonious, integrated relationship with surrounding nature, particularly large, landscaped ponds.

With the Kamakura period, from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries, we come to more familiar ground. Then the landscapes took a freer form—hills and valleys, lakes, streams, and waterfalls being represented. A curious form was the Kare-sansui*), or dried-up water scenery, where the bed of a stream or the hollow of a lake was shown dry, as if in time of drought, and this style was usually combined with a bare mountain or moorland scene.

*) Kare-san-sui (Japanese: 枯山水, English: ‘dry landscape’ or 涸山水 ‘dry landscape’), also known as Kasansui (仮山水 ‘fake landscape’), Furusansui (故山水, ‘old landscape’) or Arasensui (乾泉水, ‘dry pond’), is a Japanese rock garden, a special type of Japanese garden.

But a great impetus was given to the art when, in the fifteenth century, Yoshimasa,*) retiring from active life, and surrounded by a group of artists and sages, revived the ancient tea ceremony, and made it the nucleus of so many forms of art. The wide-reaching effects of this quaint ceremonial on art generally have already been indicated in a previous chapter. A special form of garden was devoted to its use; while also the art of flower arrangement flourished for long merely as an adjunct of the cha-no-yu **).

*) Ashikaga Yoshimasa (Japanese: 足利 義政, born 20 January 1436 in Kyoto; died 27 January 1490 in Kyoto) was the eighth shōgun of the Ashikaga shogunate and ruled from 1449 to 1473.
**) The Japanese tea ceremony (Japanese: 茶道 sadō, also called chadō, meaning “the way of tea”; also 茶の湯, cha-no-yu, meaning “hot water for tea”), also known as the tea ritual, is closely related to Zen in its underlying philosophy.

In the first group of Cha-jin, or tea professors, were Shuko (the teacher of Yoshimasa), Showo, and the famous artists No-ami and Oguri Sotan; while a little later we have the names of Gei-ami, So-ami, and later still Senno Rikiu and Enshiu. So-ami was one of the greatest masters of landscape gardening, and in his quiet and dignified compositions one sees the hand that produced the delicate landscape paintings of misty hill and lake. Examples of his gardens exist to this day, the best known being that of the Silver Pavilion at Ginkakuji, which was laid out about the year 1480.

A hundred years later Enshiu was the founder of a new school, which afterwards became very popular. One of his greatest works was a palace garden near Kioto, through which flowed the river Katsura, and so highly esteemed was this garden that for one hundred and fifty years after his death not a stone or shrub was altered.

During the luxurious Tokugawa period it became the custom for the wealthy Daimios to have their gardens laid out by well-known artists; and the art grew still more in importance, a modern style being introduced by Asagori Shimanosuke of Fushimi in the early part of the nineteenth century.

The training of the landscape gardener was long and arduous, for it was by no means the same thing to compose an actual landscape as to paint one. The novice was sent direct to nature to sketch and study natural forms, not, as in painting, from one point of view only, but so as to realize how a scene would appear from all sides.

In designing a garden the first step was a careful survey of the site; it’s drainage, levels, size, and shape had all to be taken into consideration. The aspect then was chosen, and this was generally south or south-east, so as to be sheltered from the cold west wind, though near Tokio a vista to the west was always left open commanding a view of Mount Fuji.

Then the style of the garden had to be decided. Was it to be a hill garden or flat plain land? Was it to follow the “Rocky Ocean,” the “Wide River,” the “Mountain Torrent” or the “Lake Wave” style? The character of the surrounding country would largely determine the answer to this question, for a garden was designed to fill harmoniously its place in the natural scene. The artist also, while endeavoring to obtain a result that would look well from any point, had to bear in mind that the best view of all should be from the house itself.

A striking characteristic of Japanese gardens is that water, in the form of cascade, lake, or stream, is almost universally present, its cool and refreshing properties being considered well-nigh indispensable.

The main levels fixed, the hills and valleys modeled, the next important feature consisted of the rocks and stones which represent the crags and precipices of nature. Great care is taken in the selection of these, which are termed the bones of the garden. Certain stones, which are highly valued are often brought great distances, the larger ones sometimes carefully split to render carriage more easy, and pieced together again on their arrival. Fancy prices were paid for such stones; and, indeed, to such a height did this form of extravagance attain, that early in the nineteenth century an edict was issued limiting the price to a certain sum.

The size of the garden, which varied from about fifty square yards to a few acres, gave the scale of the stones, and these again in their turn fixed the size of the shrubs, the trees, the fences, and other furnishings of the garden. In a large garden there were no less than one hundred and thirty-eight of these stones, each with its
special name and purpose assigned to it.

In the arrangement of the trees, shrubs, and flowers a regular or symmetrical arrangement was avoided, the growths and forms of nature were carefully followed, and the result made to appear as free and unstudied as possible. Contrasts of form and line, and of colour in the foliage, were sought after. No garden was deemed complete without maple-trees, so placed that the light of the setting sun would enhance the richness of its crimson leaves.

Deciduous trees were not so largely used as evergreens on account of their bareness in winter; but exceptions were made in the case of the plum and the cherry, so highly prized for the beauty of their blossom.

Flowers were chiefly grouped round the house, and were sparingly distributed among the foliage; but here again we have exceptions in the case of the iris and the lotus, which were used in large masses with gorgeous effect.

Miniature pagodas appeared among the trees in the larger gardens, little bridges crossed the streams, and large stone lanterns cast a dim and mysterious light over the scene when darkness had fallen.

But now let us turn to the sister art. The love of flowers has long been a characteristic of the Japanese people. As long ago as the ninth century the Emperor Saga held garden parties during the flowering of the cherry blossom, at which the literati of the day composed verses in honour of the flowers; and now, after the lapse of ten centuries, the transient glory of the cherry blossom is still a national festival, observed alike by the rich and the poor.

Nowhere but in Japan has the flower motive been so extensively used in art or with such grace and charm. The Japanese flower paintings stand in a class by themselves, beside which all others seem clumsy and coarse, alike in conception and execution, but it is in the applied arts that their fancy is allowed to run riot. In lacquer floral designs are wrought wonderfully

in gold or inlaid in mother-of-pearl; in metal they appear in chasing, embossing, inlaying, and many other forms ; they form the chief decorations of pottery and porcelain; but it is perhaps in the textile fabrics of Japan, in the gorgeous silk brocades, that they are seen in their greatest glory.

This being so, need we be surprised that in Japan the arranging of living flowers has for hundreds of years been recognized as a fine art, has had its schools, its laws, and its traditions, and has numbered among its exponents such great artists as So-ami, Oguri Sotan,) and Korin.*) The flower artist, they say, “must be thoroughly imbued with a sympathetic feeling for the character, habits, virtues, and weaknesses of the members of the floral kingdom from which he seeks his material, till he possesses the same love and tenderness for their qualities as for those of human beings.”

*) Sōtan (Japanese: 宗湛, also known as Oguri Sōtan (小栗 宗湛); born 1413; died 16 April 1481) was a Japanese monk and painter.
**) Ogata Kōrin (Japanese: 尾形 光琳; born 1658 in Kyoto; died 2 June 1716) was a Japanese painter and lacquer artist. Kōrin is considered one of the most important representatives of the Japanese Rinpa art movement, and many of his works have been designated as National Treasures or Important Cultural Properties by the Japanese government.

And so to the arrangement of flowers the Japanese bring an enthusiasm, a delicacy, and a refinement of dainty pedantry that, even in its most stilted and artificial forms, is full of charm, for the spirit underlying the formality and giving life to the most mannered productions is this genuine and reverential love for the beauties of nature.

It is related of Rikiu,*) the famous flower artist and philosopher, that he once observed a fence covered with a beautiful growth of convolvulus. After standing for a while rapt in admiration he plucked one flower and one leaf, which he carefully arranged in a vase. “Why so humble,” asked his friends and pupils, “when the whole plant is there at your disposal.” “Nay,” answered the master; “it is impossible to rival nature in magic of design, and so any artificial arrangement should be marked by modesty and simplicity. But even one leaf and one flower are sufficient to call for admiration.”

*) Sen no Rikyū (Japanese: 千 利休; born 1522 in Sakai; died 21 April 1591) was an important figure in Japan’s Sengoku period and had a significant influence on the development of the Japanese tea ceremony.

The Japanese art of the arrangement of flowers deals not only with blooms but also with many non-flowering plants characterized by a graceful habit of growth. The effects aimed at are pre-eminently those of line and balance, colour being more or less subordinated to these qualities.

The earliest flower studies, placed as offerings before the shrines in the temples, followed a style of erect composition known as the Rikkwa school, and with their vertical central mass and supporting side groups approached more nearly to symmetry than is usual in Japanese art.

In the later styles symmetry was carefully avoided, and, perhaps, to no department of art does the style of asymmetrical yet balanced composition seem more suited than to those delightful arrangements of freely growing natural forms.

The most popular school is that of Enshiu, which groups the essentials under three heads. First, the quality of giving feeling and expression to compositions, for the Japanese artist is no mere copyist of nature; each group must mean something, must convey some idea. Second, truth to nature in the sense of presenting correctly the style of growth of the plants used; and third, truth to nature in the strict observance of the laws of season and locality.

The different parts of the composition have each a special name, as also have many of the faults -into which the novice is liable to fall.

Nagashi, the arrangement of long, streaming sprays on each side of a group, is, as approaching the symmetrical, especially to be avoided.

“Window-making,” the crossing of stalks in such a manner as to give the appearance of loopholes, and “lattice-making,” where the crossing suggests lattice-work, are both grave faults, as is also any suspicion of parallelism in the main lines.

It is not sufficient either that the finished study should look well from the front. It must bear the test of examination from all points of view.

There are also distinct rules regarding the vessels employed to hold the compositions. Sometimes beautifully wrought bowls of bronze are used, sometimes vessels of wood or porcelain, sometimes a simple wicker basket.

The shallow bronze bowl is the most usual, as in it little vices of wood may be conveniently fixed across to hold together the stems, and metal crabs, dragons, tortoises, and frogs are often used to hold the cuttings in position, and at the same time form part of the design. Sometimes the vessel is made in the shape of a boat, a style said to be first inaugurated by So-ami, and since forming a class of composition by itself.

A favorite combination is a rough wooden tub used for horses to drink from and a bronze horse’s bit. Its use dates back to a time when a famous general of old, during one of the duller intervals of a campaign, employed his leisure in composing- a flower study, using as vessel and vice the only articles at his disposal.

Holders of bamboo are used in various forms, as many as forty-two different methods of cutting and notching the hollow stem being recognised. Some of the names of these are delightfully expressive such as “lion’s mouth,” “singing mouth,” “flute,” “stork’s neck,” “conch shell,” and, most imposing of all, “cascade-climbing- dragon’s form.”

The plants themselves are grouped in many grades. Seven—the chrysanthemum, the narcissus, the maple, the wisteria, and the evergreen rhodea — are of princely rank, and form a veritable aristocracy of flowers. The iris, also, is of equal rank with the foregoing, but, owing to its purple colour, must never be used at a wedding.

Then, again, within the same species, the flowers take rank according to their colour, in most cases the white bloom ranking highest. Among chrysanthemums, however, the yellow takes precedence, with the peach and cherry pale pink, and with the camellia and peony red.

Certain plants, also, must never be used, and this “Index Expurgatorius” includes all strong-smelling or poisonous plants, and a long list comprising the aster, the poppy, the orchid, the rhododendron, and many others.

Male and female attributes are also applied to plants in many ways. The front of leaves is male, the back female; red, purple, pink, or variegated flowers are male; blue, yellow, and white female. So that a flower composition in Japan, apart from its intrinsic beauty, bears a wealth of symbolic meaning.

In all important rooms there is an ornamental alcove or recess, called the toko-no-ma, with raised floor polished and lacquered, and a handsome corner pillar of rare wood. On the back wall is hung the kakemono, or in some cases a pair, or set of three, and on the dais before it, or suspended from above, is placed the flower study. In this recess are displayed, one at a time, the choicest art treasures of the house, and in front of it is the place of the honored guest.

There is an etiquette even in looking at flower studies, and in praising them only appropriate epithets should be used, always softly expressed. White flowers are “elegant,” blue “fine,” red “charming,” yellow “splendid,” and purple “modest.”

But the greatest compliment that can be paid to a guest on such an occasion is to ask him to make an extempore arrangement himself. And here the ceremonial is delightful in its graceful formality. The host brings a tray with vase, cut blooms and sprays, scissors, knife, and a little saw. If the vessel brought be a very valuable one the guest modestly protests that he can produce nothing worthy of so fine a setting, but, on being pressed by his host, should comply with his wishes.

The host then removes the kakemono,*) for to allow it to remain would impose upon the artist the task of designing his group in harmony with it, and with the rest of the company withdraws to an adjoining room until, the work being completed, the guest summons them, having placed the scissors beside his com- position as a silent request for the correction of its faults. When his host enters he apologizes for the imperfections of his work, and begs that the whole may be removed. The host in his turn assures him that in beauty it is all that could be desired, and so the delicate interchange of compliments goes on.

*) A kakemono (Japanese: 掛け物) or kakejiku (Japanese: 掛け軸) is a Japanese vertical hanging scroll.

Not the least attractive feature of this gentle art is the evanescent nature of its charms. The painter, the sculptor, the artist in lacquer or in metal, works for posterity: hundreds of years hence his fame may be greater far than it is to- day. But the artist in flowers can hope for no such permanence in his work, its creations are verily but “the lilies of a day,” his modest task but to give sweetness and beauty to the passing hour.

Source: Arts and crafts of old Japan by Stewart Dick. Edinburgh, London: T. N. Foulis, 1906.