A 5-minute podcast conversation with John about his January, 2009 recommendation for a super premium sake.
John’s sake website http://www.sake-world.com/
Fine Premium Sake is available, on-line, from the following companies
A 5-minute podcast conversation with John about his January, 2009 recommendation for a super premium sake.
John’s sake website http://www.sake-world.com/
Fine Premium Sake is available, on-line, from the following companies
I catch the 9:30am train out of Kyoto. En route, I meet up with my friend Robert Yellin, an ex-pat American, ceramics expert and gallery owner from Mishima (near Mt. Fuji.) I have invited Rob to meet my friend, Takemoto Ikuo-san, at his studio in Echizen, located on the Sea of Japan side of Honshu. I had fallen in love with his work many years ago. His unglazed ceramics are reminiscent of that of the Bizen district, where he apprenticed with Fujiwara Kei, a Living National Treasure. I found his pieces to be warmer and more intimate than Bizen ware. Three years ago, long after I “met” his tea bowls, I actually got to meet the man who made those bowls. Since then, I have really wanted to introduce Rob to him. Now, three years later, Rob and I are finally making that trip to Echizen.
Takemoto-san picks us up at the station, and we pass the small town commercial district, rice fields and woods and large timber framed farmhouses before arriving at Takemoto-san’s spacious house, crafted with a light colored wood interior and sitting high on a hill with dynamic views of snow-capped mountains. A blend of traditional minimalist design with modern conveniences.
Takemoto-san is a master of tea and he serves us a couple of rounds of matcha in his tearoom before taking us to his kiln. He begins and ends each work day by thoroughly cleaning his workspace. “He is more of a Zen priest than a Zen priest,” our mutual friend and Kyoto gallery owner, Taji-san, often quips about him. He takes his work very seriously, with classic Japanese one-pointedness and the discipline of a monk. “In the path that I have chosen, there are many points where you could say I could have taken an easier path. Each time, however, I ended up choosing the more difficult one,” he explains. “It always took my work to a better place. The other path would have been easier, but would probably have resulted in something superficial or lacking.”
We view the enormous wood burning kiln. Its design is based on an excavated, 1000-year old kiln from the Heian period. We then enter a room displaying finished work. “These pieces are light, sensuous and poetic,” says an obviously happy Robert as he turns one piece after another in his hands. He decides to show some of Takemoto’s pieces at his gallery in Mishima A relationship is born and I guess that makes me the Cupid, here.
Takemoto-san, with Rob Yellin
Mizusashi (cold water jar) for tea
Rob Yellin’s gallery: http://www.e-yakimono.net
My hands are arguing with my mind as I type this, because I can’t type fast enough—too many experiences in too short a time. At 3:00pm, I arrived at Daitoku-ji Monastery for a monthly tea event. I chatted with the kimono-clad volunteer registration person, a young professional scroll mounter. He invited me to see his workshop. We event participants then entered the tearoom. Like other tea events regularly held at temples or shrines, a tea host brings treasured implements from his/her own collection to share with a group of art-loving tea devotees. This month, the host was Chiba-san, a tea teacher employed by Master Horinouchi, a member of one Japan’s oldest and most illustrious tea family dynasties. As a young Zen monk in black robes ritually prepared the matcha for us, Chiba-san spoke of the implements that he had chosen for us today: the calligraphy scrolls, the black and red raku bowls, the single camellia-bud flower arrangement, the Ko Takatori glaze cold water jar, the iron kettle, the gold makie-trimmed lacquer hearth edge, the white dumplings filled with sweet azuki an, the crisp sesame wafers.
After 40 minutes of warm conversation and two bowls of matcha, we adjourned. I was about to leave when I noticed my friend, Moriya-san, a yuzen artist (hand painted original designs on silk), showing kimono and rolls of silk to some guests. “That’s right! I remember now. Today is your exhibition here at the monastery,” I said to him as I stepped onto the tatami floor. Three years ago, after a 40-year career, Moriya-san moved his yuzen workshop from Kamakura to just west of the Imperial Palace grounds in Kyoto.
I had two more bowls of matcha at the exhibition. I was just about to leave, when the Abbot saw me and invited me to meet the publisher of The Chugai Nippo, a Buddhist newspaper, and have a cup of hojicha tea. Otaka-san spoke fondly of his friend, Donald Keene, the West’s foremost interpreter of Japanese culture and a leading translator of modern Japanese literature. I was, again, just about to leave when I was introduced to the Zen monk who had earlier performed matcha for us. His temple is located in the western part of Kyoto and is affiliated with Tenryuji, one of my favorite places. I was, yet again, just about to leave when I ran into an acquaintance of mine—a taxi driver whom I often coincidentally see around town. I arrived at the bus stop 3 minutes before my departure time. Round trip today took 2 hours and 15 minutes. Just another ordinary day in Paradise.
In Collaboration with Photographer, Helen Hasenfeld
© Photos by Helen Hasenfeld
One early spring day ten years ago, while strolling through the cedar shaded grounds of a 700-year old Zen monastery in Kyoto’s eastern foothills, I passed through the arch of an old, red brick, Roman-style aquaduct to explore the area behind the head abbot’s quarters. After a few minutes I came upon a black tiled wooden gate that led into the semi-formal entry garden of a sub-temple. Then, inside, while looking at the vermillion, lacquered altar from outside the large sliding doors, an elderly priest appeared from behind me. “What are you doing here?” he asked in the somewhat gruff sounding, no-nonsense voice, so typical of long time monks. Any gruffness that I may have heard was immediately overshadowed by one thing. The man twinkled.
His voice was both sweet and mischievousness. And he really twinkled. “Tourists rarely visit here. We have no famous garden to see.” We chatted for a while, and I was about ready to leave when he said, “Sometimes I invite people here to see the Noh masks that I carve.” I almost gasped. A Noh mask carver! This was almost too exciting. He then told me of some English letters he had received but could not understand. “I will translate your letters for you, and help you to write replies,” I said, almost knocking him over with my enthusiasm to come even a little closer to the rarified world of Noh mask carving. We made an appointment for the next day. I have been visiting him ever since.
12:00am, January 1st, 2009. Bronze temple bells rang throughout the ancient capital. This is our 4th such celebration since moving here. The year 2008 saw meetings with remarkable people, innovative food and architecture, and further exploration by bicycle and on foot of a city that continually reveals itself. Again, here is my annual update of “Life in Kyoto.”
One year ago, January was a very snowy month in our neighborhood in the foothills. Snow fell almost every day but usually melted by noon. Here is the view from my 2nd floor study, with the river below.
I began the month of January at hatsugama, the first Tea of the year. Dozens of my fellow tea students gathered in kimono for contemplation and discussion and a chance to hold in their hands treasures of ceramics, lacquer, bamboo, wood and paper, usually only seen in glass museum cases. Our group includes potters, master chefs, garden masters, authors, tea sweet makers, yuzen kimono artists, a violist, monks, gallery owners, a kimono dealer, architects, a master carpenter and a former woman pro-wrestler.
I took these photos on the first Saturday in December. These people were on an outing to see the last of the autumn color of the year. Most of the images were taken in and around the huge, wooden Sanmon Gate, in the center of the monastery.
A 5-minute podcast conversation with John about his December, 2008 recommendation for a super premium sake.
Since the Miho opened in 1997, it has attracted visitors from all over the world. It is located in a nature preserve, outside of Kyoto. The 180,000 sq. ft. structure, built 80% underground to protect the surrounding environment, is constructed of steel, glass and French limestone. The site consists of three parts: the reception building, a long processional including a tunnel and the museum building, itself. Throughout the site, we can see Asian cultural references, including the modularized tatami-like bridge floor, light fixtures reminiscent of fans, and classic moon window, and Japanese andon lamps. The museum houses an exceptional collection of art and antiquities from Asia and Asia Minor, including 1st Century Gandaran Buddhist statuary from Pakistan and Afganistan, gold Jewelry from Bactria, 2000 year old treasures from the Silk Road, Egyptian art and one of Japan’s finer tea implement collections.
This hall was built in 1995 in Kyoto’s Kitayama district. It is a relatively newly developed part of town and has a several contempory buildings of note. Concert Hall is the city’s principal classical music venue and was designed by Arata Isozaki & Associates. Isozaki also designed M.O.C.A. in Los Angeles. The site contains three principal parts: main building, ensemble hall and foyer. Exterior materials include terracotta panels reminiscent of ceramic roof tiles. Isozaki chose an understated color palette of black and quiet silver, in keeping with the general color tone of Kyoto. The floor of the first floor lobby is imported Italian limestone which supports 12 non-functional columns symbolizing the Asian zodiac in a manner resembling an Escher drawing.
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Charles Bernstein, A.I.A.
This poetically designed church was completed in 1995 on a low budget, and won Ando the Pritzker Award. The relatively small structure is located in a suburb of Osaka. Like most of Ando’s work, the building materials consist of glass, steel and of course, poured-in-place concrete. In addition to evocatively placed windows and irregular angles, the most striking feature is a cruciform window cut into one wall which casts an image of a cross on the opposing wall.