Raven and Sparrow

Banner bits

After many an hour of embroidery and handwork, I have got the components of my lullaby banner almost ready to go. There are nine pink panels with the lyrics to an old song embroidered on them, and six rough unbleached cotton strips that carry the chorus. The lyric panels are backed with the same cotton to make a frame for the pink parts and to give them more substance. I originally meant to fringe the white edges like the chorus strips (not quite finished), but then I decided that would be too much fringe and turned the edges instead. You can see from the one that is showing the back side that I didn't allow enough fabric to make a double turn when I cut and so had to hand overcast all the edges. (It probably would have been too bulky anyway.) I used Jude's (www.spiritcloth.typepad.com) glue stitch to attach the pink to the white. Now I plan to string them along a length of bias tape so they can be hung in the baby's room. I may still need a title strip, but I want to put the baby's name on it and that is still undecided. I will probably put a blank piece in for now.

I am not at all sure about this project ...maybe it will look half-assed and silly, or be annoyingly cumbersome. I do know that it wanted to be made from the moment I thought of it and so I have tried. 

Continuing conversation

In my last post I described the effect of Japanese aesthetics on my own understanding of beauty. Some of the responses (thank you to my thoughtful commenters) sparked a lot of rumination on the politically fraught issues of cultural appropriation and political correctness and this is my response.

When I first encountered the House Beautiful article Download House Beautiful article (written in the '60s but seen by me in the '90s) describing the Japanese aesthetic concepts of shibusa and wabi sabi I felt an immediate thrill of recognition. It was as though my innermost inchoate feelings about beauty were captured, consolidated and displayed....for me. I clearly saw the "Japaneseness" of the ideas and knew from reading and observation that they arose from a long history of which I had only superficial appreciation, but their underlying power struck me very personally. I never thought that they could only be true for Japanese people and my adoption of those ideas was heartfelt and sincere. I have used them ever since as a guide and touchstone for my own work, which is not Japanese.

Now we are in a time of bewildering change and cultural shift in which  many previously marginalized groups are proudly claiming their own histories and expressing dismay at the denigrating use of their cultural symbols, ceremonies and motifs by the dominant, Eurocentric, Christian mainstream culture which reduces them to cliches and jokes. The newly vociferous minority groups complain that they have been undermined and demeaned by the superficial and patronizing way they have been portrayed and demand the right to control their own symbols. Anything else is deemed "cultural appropriation", that is, theft, by people who have been insulated to the point of unconsciousness and have no idea of the meaning and the sometimes extremely painful experiences behind the motifs they use for their own amusement and commercial exploitation. 

Meanwhile, the ubiquity of dominant white culture has made that exploitation of minority cultures, whether ethnic, religious, sexual or gender-related, invisible to most people. It is simply the way in which they have always lived and so they respond to these new criticisms with astonishment and defensiveness. What is the big fuss about blackface when minstrel shows have been an entertainment genre forever? Why can't sports teams use the Native American mascots by which they have always been known? Why must they suddenly be so careful about how they refer to other ethnicities or sexual identities or any of a seemingly endless list of people ready to take offense at what previously passed without comment? "Political correctness" is the derisive and frightened cry of people who feel like their understanding of and place in the world is under attack.

I think we are at a critical crossroad in our evolution. The old order is breaking down and everyone who identified with it is bereft and afraid, while those whom that order excluded feel newly and angrily self-aware. The divisions between people are magnified, sharp and dangerous. We have proved many times in our history how cruel and violent we can be when we are attacked, as every side feels it is. What must we do to navigate this perilous transition?

A pause here, while I evaluate my ability to pronounce sensibly on these weighty and terrifying matters. As someone immersed in my time and culture, I have no confidence in the clarity of my own perceptions, but I do think it boils down to who we can accept as "us". Will we be trapped in our old divisions or will we be able to expand our sense of self to include all humanity, and eventually, all creation? Will we jealously guard our own entitlements, or alternatively, our embattled identities against the entitlement of others? What if all of our contributions are sacred expressions of life and spirit? Can we release enough fear and resentment to allow the cross-pollination of ideas that has always been the key to human advancement and cultural enrichment? I feel sure that our greatest chance for our own continuation and flowering resides in the combined efforts and mutual appreciation of every human being, and our willlingness to imagine what another life might be like. We all have things to teach and learn; we don't have to disown our heritage to accept other ways of being, nor insist defensively that we alone know best and that knowledge can't be shared. We are many, but we are also one, and that is where I place my hope.

P.S. This illustration comes from a 2014 show at Seattle's Frye Art Museum displaying the work that  American sculptor Isamu Noguchi produced after a six-month apprenticeship with Chinese painting master Qi Baishe in 1930. Qi Baishe did not try to indoctrinate Noguchi in the classic Chinese motifs, but allowed him to do Western style figure studies using Chinese brush work.

Japanese influences

When Dee (www.deemallon.wordpress.com) posted on her blog about visiting the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston I was reminded of my unsuccessful effort to visit there on a day when it was closed. I wanted to go because I had read The Book of Tea, written in 1906 by Kakuzo Okakura to explain Japanese ways to Mrs. Gardner and her Western friends. Thinking of that prompted me to read it again and this is what came of it:

I have never been to Japan or studied the Japanese language. I have never attended a tea ceremony. My house and garden have no overtly Japanese decorative items and I only rarely use their motifs in my textile work. Still, there is something about Japanese aesthetics that calls to me strongly and I now recognize their influence on my tablesettings and general appreciation of beauty.

To even say this much is to call down derision from true adepts who would say that my appreciation comes from a shallow and ignorant place. The Japanese have been honing their aesthetic arts for centuries to an exquisite refinement that takes a lifetime to master. I am certainly missing a whole world of technical expertise, symbolic meaning and historical reference when I admire a beautiful kimono, graceful calligraphy or serene garden. Nonetheless, in my Western fashion I maintain the right to be moved by whatever appeals to me and take what I can from my own experience.

There are several things I especially like about Japanese art. One of the most important is their appreciation of domestic forms and daily life. Flower arrangements, gardens, ceramics and textiles are treated as artistic outlets as important and valuable as painting, sculpture and architecture. No facet of life is unworthy of consideration and care. They allow the sacred to shine through every moment, even the most mundane, and celebrate beauty in every endeavor.

Another touchstone is the Japanese affinity to nature. They refer to it constantly in art and ceremony, keeping natural motifs and themes in the forefront of their artistic vocabulary. The seasons are especially resonant for them and figure prominently in their poetry and symbolism, playing innumerable variations on the universal experience of change, death and renewal. Their acute appreciation of the power of the seasonal round always strikes a feeling of melancholy gratitude in me for the ephemeral, reliable gifts of earth. We all participate in the eternal becoming and dissolution of life, and the use of seasons as shorthand for that experience takes us straight into the heart of our own being.

A third appealing element of Japanese culture is the Zen-based concept of mindfulness. To me that means heightening my awareness of the moment and all that it entails. I don't think I will ever be able or want to lay aside past and future completely, but stopping as often as I can to savor what is happening now helps me connect to my own existence in a deeper way. Also, when I tune into the details around me I am motivated to make that moment as beautiful and satisfying as I can, although accepting what is no matter how messy is satisfying too and probably more Zen.

Table setting helps me translate these Japanese gleanings into my own life. As our culture becomes unmoored from traditional forms of community I think we need to pause occasionally, step out of our rush into the future and join with each other for the time it takes to eat a meal. This is a small, domestic act within the power of most people, not monumental but worthy of such attention as we can bring. Making an oasis for this to occur, invoking the natural world from which we and our sustenance come and concentrating our attention upon being together is the easiest formula I know to make people (including myself) feel secure, valuable and loved. Thanks Japan.

P.S. Marti's comment reminds me of an old article about the Japanese aesthetic of shibusa, published in House Beautiful magazine many years ago. There was no attribution to any author, but it is taken from an interview with the famous father of the Japanese craft movement, Soetsu Yanagi. I copied it and offer it here for you. Download House Beautiful article

 

 

Winter's table

Unlike so many in this country who have been braving arctic cold, our winter so far has been unusually warm. We got enough of a frost to kill the nasturtiums, but most of the other annuals in the garden, like geraniums, are still alive and trying to bloom. Thus we were quite surprised to see it begin to snow this morning. It isn't sticking much, but it has fallen non-stop all day, making my winter table setting much more appropriate. 

There are only four of us sharing this dinner so I set us up in the middle of the table to maintain intimacy. As usual, I put the larger flower arrangement at the far end to stop the eye and kept the centerpiece very small. I was looking for something quiet and dark so I turned to the woolen scarf I bought for Lynne's winter table. She had given it back to me and I often find it very useful for evoking a wintery feeling. It's circular patterns and subdued colors remind me of the way ice forms in puddles when the frost is heavy.

I have a dark blue cloth that covers the whole table, but the rough linen square (left over from Joel and Becca's wedding) looks better with the scarf, and the shiny corners of the bare table add more life to the setting. Off-white gray banded plates, white chrysanthemums, and silver accents keep it from being too heavy. I especially like the way the little vase in the empty space of the clear glass tray makes a quiet interlude that feels like winter night to me.

It's good to gather with friends when winter makes the warmth of their companionship especially welcome.