Tag Archives: Matsuo Basho

Nagoya Day 18: Japanese Aesthetics (Part 1)

I went to the ‘Creator’s Market’ today, and it was so awesome that I should leave it for another post. On my way there, I had lots of time on the train, so I took the time to do my readings for next week. It was a good idea because the readings were spot on regarding Japanese aesthetics.

“幽玄 (Yūgen), or ‘suggestion’ can be apprehended by the mind, but it cannot be expressed in words. Its quality may be suggested by the sight of a thin cloud veiling the moon or by autumn mist swathing the scarlet leaves on a mountain-side. If one is asked where in these sights lies the yūgen, one cannot say.”

At the heart of Japanese aesthetics are 4 qualities: suggestion (as mentioned above), irregularity, simplicity and perishability. I’ll mention just one, because it is important. Watch out for my future posts where I’ll elaborate a little on each quality of Japanese aesthetics, maybe linking it to my ikebana class.

On ‘suggestion’:

Here’s a poem that elucidates this,

By Fujiwara no Kintō:
Dimly, dimly
The day breaks at Akashi Bay;
And in the morning mist
My heart follows a vanishing ship
As it goes behind an island.

ほのぼのと
あかしのうらの
あさぎりに
しまがくれゆく
ふねをしぞおもう

The ambiguity here is exploited to suggest an atmosphere and an emotional state that isn’t stated. One wonders what it is, but is left to multiple interpretations to imagine of. You don’t quite know why the poet’s heart went behind the island, nor what it really means, but that is the beauty. If the poem was too complete, there’s nothing more to work with.

Here’s another poem to illustrate it, by 松尾場所 (Matsuo Bashō)

On the withered bough
A crow has alighted:
Nightfall in autumn.

枯れ枝に
からすのとまりけり
秋の暮れ

In Japanese, you don’t know whether the crow (からす) is a plural or singular noun, neither do you know whether it is “nightfall in autumn” or “the nightfall of autumn”, so that gives plenty of interpretations. To quote directly from the article:

“If we were to insist on determining which meaning the poet intended, the answer might as well be that both the nightfall or a particular autumn and the end of the autumnal season were intended. If Bashō’s phrase were interpreted as meaning nightfall, regardless of whether it were early or late in autumn, it might suggest that the crow was alighting on a withered branch in a tree otherwise filled with bright leaves, producing a disharmonious impression. If the scene intended had been an unspecified time of day towards the end of autumn, it might mean that the crow was alighting in the full glare of noon, an unequally inappropriate possibility.”

Such ambiguity gives people much more room to contemplate and truly appreciate the amount of work done by the author to create a situation that is full of richness. This wasn’t an ambiguity randomly chosen. The use of words were carefully chosen to create a consistent setting.

A last word on the topic of “suggestion”: Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of spring – these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with faded flowers are worthier of our admiration.      – Kenkō