Throughout this class, we keep coming back to historicality… what should be preserved, what shouldn’t, how should it be done, etc. In many ways, it seems like a double-edged sword: preserving evidence of the past is something that humans always want to do, but at the same time, it’s a difficult balance between keeping old things and recognizing that sometimes, it’s just too much effort to keep something that is defective. Perhaps defective is a strong word, but in some sense, it is correct. After all, if these places still served the same function that they used to, and served it as well as contemporary buildings and styles, then there would be no need to change. But, unfortunately, things do change, and the people who insist on preserving Kyoto as a living museum are eventually going to end up with something that they didn’t want: a historic district that becomes commercial, merely an amusement park with no significance at all. When that happens, then the very people who fought so valiantly to make the place “historic” and have it protected are going to denounce it, say that it has become a sham, and that the very feeling of place that they were trying to protect is gone, and the only people who come there anymore are tourists. You can’t please everyone. As someone who grew up in a “historical” city, I’ve seen it happen.
In reading the Nitschke article about the strictures that the government has set in place for the preservation of Kyoto, I have to wonder if such things are going to work, in the long run. They seem to do well so far. But it also struck me, how very arbitrary some of the rules that they have in place seem. How do you judge one place’s aesthetic or historic value over another’s? Their guidelines seem rather… subjective, I suppose. Which leads me to think that eventually, preservation will become less a matter of aesthetics and historicity as politics and money. This has already become apparent, I’m sure, in the inability of some owners to afford the upkeep for their buildings. As I learned somewhere, people who specialize in traditional carpentry have become fewer, their services more expensive, and so owners have become unable to continue to repair their properties, making it more economically feasible to just tear down old buildings and put new ones in their places. Preservation is all well and good, but it’s important to remember that money will always be involved, and much of the time, that is the deciding factor, irrespective of any idealistic ideas of preservation.
It seems to me that the city of Kyoto could be roughly divided in half in terms of economics, the part of the city that uses the Takasegawa canal, and the other which utilizes the Biwako Canal and the Incline for shipping products. Or perhaps it has to do with the destination of the products – when we went to the Shimadzu museum, they mentioned that the Takasegawa was used for sending things down to Osaka, which is to the south, while the Biwako Canal would send things to the east of Kyoto. If I remember my geography correctly, Biwako is not far from the sea, which is partly why Kammu chose this spot to build his capital. Thus, between these two canals, Kyoto was effectively connected to the economic centers of Japan.
One of the things that we mentioned in class, and also heard about at the Shimadzu museum, was the economic diversification of the city that occurred when the Emperor moved to Tokyo, and away from the ancient capital. The economy of Kyoto had essentially been built around the Emperor and his court, and when those were gone, the people were forced to find new things to do – new products to produce, ways to keep Kyoto famous. As happened with Shimadzu, companies and artisans began developing new ideas and technologies; the city officials looked in other directions, building on Kyoto’s already famous temples and historical sites to develop a tourist industry, and using projects such as the building of the Biwako Canal to draw attention to the city.
I also went to Nanzenji, to see the way the Canal went through the temple precincts. It was interesting, and slightly odd to see a Roman-style aqueduct in the middle of a Buddhist temple, and I wondered what the motivation had been for having it there. Nanzneji is a huge temple – how did the city officials get the temple to agree to it? Or was it the other way around? I think that sounds like an interesting story… Which ties into the idea of the Canal’s present use – like much of Kyoto, it seems to have become a relic, mostly for tourism. Is the Canal still in use? The Incline is grown over with weeds, a park where obaa-chan and lovers walk.
When I first saw this assignment, and began looking around at the buildings in Kyoto, thought to myself – what architecture? That’s not to say that Kyoto isn’t full of buildings – just that the well-designed ones also happen to be well hidden. Kyoto architecture is an odd mix; machiya and imitation-machiya crouch between insipid mansion and somber salaryman bire.
If there’s one thing to be said about the architecture in Kyoto (and perhaps Japanese architecture in general), it’s that it definitely takes advantage of small spaces. I thought that some of the buildings in Tom Daniell’s portfolio were intensely interesting for that reason – they made so much use of a small space that they had, that it seemed like it wasn’t a small space at all. When I was in high school I took architecture classes, and I remember that my teacher always had that problem with my drawings – they were so small, compared to American standards of building. I designed a museum that was about 3,000 square feet once – for those of you who aren’t aware, that’s the size of a suburban house in America. Perhaps I should have continued my studies, and come to Japan…
As I ride through the city on my bike, I am always struck by the creativity of some of the buildings – they’re very modest, not flashy and drawing attention to themselves like most Western architecture with huge facades and such. Even though you can miss them if you go by too fast, if you pay attention, the details are fascinating. There’s a building on Oike that reminds me of 1920s Art Deco architecture, with a huge glass front and metalwork depicting the sun and moon; mansion that are stepped like South American temples; an apartment building that has what look like London phone booths, red with glass panes, attached to the front of it. So, I think after considering, I have to revise my original thoughts on the subject of Kyoto’s architecture – it’s alive and well.
I first read Tanizaki’s essay a few years ago in a class about Japanese “visual culture”, and to be honest, I thought the man was crazy and not a little snobbish. I had read his novels before, and his condemnation of Western technology in In Praise of Shadows surprised me, especially considering the views espoused in the novel Naomi. It was a relief to hear that the essay was written in sort of a tongue-in-cheek manner – could someone actually think that way? It surprised me, and made me a bit indignant – after all, why hadn’t the Japanese developed their own technology, if people really felt that way. It seemed to me to be looking a gift-horse in the mouth, but perhaps that’s because I’m Western, and seeing things from the other side.
It seems that since coming to Kyoto, all I have heard from critics and scholars is complaints. Complaints about everything: from the lack of greenery to the destruction of the “historical landscape” to that unforgettable onerous sin of the city government: the building of Kyoto Station and Kyoto Tower. Personally, I don’t think either of them is really that bad. Granted, Kyoto Tower is not the most attractive building around, but I actually like the Eki. And, if everyone had such a problem with it, why didn’t they say something before it was built, instead of complaining after the fact? I’m sure if the people of Kyoto actively hated Kyoto Tower as much as critics claim they do, the construction site would have been stormed by an angry mob.
So, to all the people who complain about Kyoto: Lay off. It’s an awesome city, whether or not it fits your ideas of what it should be. If it really bothers you that much, go live in the little Dutch village with Alex Kerr. Although, I’ll tell you a secret – that place isn’t “real” either…
Im sitting here in nick’s apartment and even though I should be working on this paper, I had some thoughts I wanted to put down before I forget them.
I really like my okaasan. She’s a very sweet person, despite being very set in her ideas. (Apparently, liking umeboshi, as Nick does, is hen.) Which is actually, one of the things I have been thinking about lately, that bothers me. Granted, I came to Japan to learn things, and living with a family is part of that. It’s not that she doesn’t treat me like an adult – she fully admits that I am, but in some senses, I get the feeling that I am still very child-like to her, which bothers me, because I’d pretty much gotten over my feeling of how childlike Japan makes me feel, but then something will happen and I will be right back to it.
I’m apparently different from all 14 other students she has had. Which seems strange to me – were they all the same? Normally, I wouldn’t mind being different, but in Japan, being different, even for gaijin, is not generally a good thing. Like, my sleeping schedule. Which, I’ll grant you, is rather odd. I’m not sure why I have slept so much since I have been here, and it is, I’ll admit, different from the Japanese norm, it’s not bad. As my okaasan likes to remind me, I came to Japan to learn, and that means changing, adjusting to living with a Japanese family… but am I the only one who has to adjust? Would it hurt very much if, instead of marking me off as “different” or telling me, as my okaasan does, that I need to つよくなる, they just accepted that maybe all Americans aren’t the same, and perhaps I could teach them something too?
I’m used to being told that I’m strong, and even though sometimes I wish I were not so unreliant on other people, being told I needed to become strong, simply because my sleeping patterns are different, rather irked me. I’m enjoying my time in Kyoto, but as she reminded me tonight, it’s already half over, and I will not be sad to go back to a place where I’m treated as though I know what’s going on.
Not that all this isn’t good for me in some way I’m sure –
learning to be patient, and being taken down a notch every now and then is all
well and good. And, as I pointed out to
Nick last night in a related conversation, probably the reason that her
critique of my sleeping patterns hit home is because I myself am not exactly
pleased with them.
All the same, I’ll be glad to return to a place where I’m
not gaijin, mentally and physically.
except, this time, the paper is 15-20 pages. and when i get done with it, i get to do a web site (for reichert) and finish up a journal (for kpip).
and i'll be damned if i can't focus worth a damn. i'm making up for it by doing some (semi-)productive things - posting old blog entries in an attempt to clear out my planner and my head; making list of things to do over winter break; organizing my ideas for my other two projects... hopefully it's working. It's 3 am and my okaasan is hopefully going to wake me up at 8 am so i can keep going.
so, i've taken a shower, made my bed, cleaned up a bit... now, if i could just come up with something to write, i'll be doing good... well, i have oreos, red bull, and peanut butter and crackers to keep me company. and after this, the web site and journal will be a snap - i'm going to essentially make a website of my paper, with some extra stuff thrown in. the journal is mostly done - i have about 6 entries to write, but they won't take me that long... i've been turning them over in my head, so i have an idea of what i want to write. if i get stuck on this paper again, i'll start writing them.
well... here goes. i'm off to read about death in buddhism...
Good things about today:
- cleaned my room a bit.
- watched two eps of galileo and 1 of psych. enjoyed them.
- back-posted some blog entries.
- did my laundry - all of it.
- took a shower.
- tomorrow am getting up early and will work all day.
- have some vague ideas for structure of paper.
- organized what I need to do for Kpip
- talked to Lou and Kaylie via Facebook/LJ comments.
- ate some amazing chocolate cake.
- remembered to take my vitamins.
- FINALLY finished Fruits Basket. Yay!!
- couldn't go to Nick's birthday.
- didn't do work on paper.
- have a headache.
On the train home and I have been surrounded by sweet obaasan; they commented on my long legs and good handwriting (I was practicing my kanji). Even though I didn’t get much sleep last might I’m not as tired as i thought I would be – I expected to go straight home after my exam;. Instead I had lunch at rune, and then hung around the kaikan for a bit. The exam went well, I think – a few kanji and a grammar point I didn’t know, but I already aced the oral part (which was not, in fact, oral, and surprised everyone, including 山岡先生.
Yesterday was our last day of classes, so I saw Reichert-sensei for the last time – he’s going back to the States. I really enjoyed his class, and I’ll miss him. He reminds me a bit of Bullock-sensei, so at times it was like having her around.
I was half an hour late to kpip yesterday – I woke up late and then had to take a local train. Then I stopped in front of honganji on karasuma, because the night before I had left a pack of crackers for the man who always sits out front of it. I’m not sure if he got them or note, but while I was trying to ask him (I’m not actually sure he can talk), the man who helped me when my skirt got caught in my bike saw me and stopped me (long story for another post, but has in part led to me being branded as the person who is always late/skips class)- I think his name is Hazukishi-san. He had been showing some people around (from NZ, I think, judging by their accents) and introduced me to them and we talked for a few minutes, but I told him I had to go since I was going to be late for class. He’s a nice person, I hope I see him again.
Wednesday was our last day with 橋本先生… I like the way she teaches, and she was a cool person to talk to. I’ll miss her too.
5:20 pm
Well I have some time to kill before dinner, and since the train interrupted my writing (as usual) I’ll continue this while I’m not doing something else. To get back to today – I was feeling kinda quiet, and needed to find Uemiya- and Smith-sensei, so I went to the Kaikan. Smith was in his office, so I asked him about his translation class next semester. It’s the only one I was really excited about taking, and the syllabus didn’t specify a prereq., but I had heard from someone that A class people can’t take it… When I asked him about it, he all but told me he didn’t want me in the class, because he doesn’t think I can do it. Now, I’ve become used to the idea that I’m in A class, and I’m okay with it; it’s just where I am with my Japanese. But I know for a fact that that is bullshit, because I’ve translated literature before, in a class designed for 4th level students – and a lot of the time, my translations were just as good as, if not better than theirs. The whole thing just annoyed me, this writing off without even having ever seen any of my work. He told me to talk to Nakamura- and Yamaoka-sensei to see what they thought of the idea, and gave me some example readings to try. When I talked to the sensei, they looked skeptical, but they at least looked more supportive than Smith. -sigh- Honestly, the more I interact with him, the more confused I am about Crowley-sensei’s recommendation of him as someone I should know.
I rode back to the Eki down the river, taking pictures for Olga – in her most recent email, she said she wanted pictures of things, so I did some of the Kamogawa. When I got to the Eki, I took some pictures of it too – it’s a very interesting building. I might put them together as a photo essay for my Kyoto journal if I have a chance. There was an interesting craft-fair thing going on, and I watched a guy engraving a lacquer box, which was pretty awesome.
I’m writing this on the train as I stare out at the building s and foggy mountains , wondering what to say about Kpip… it’s definitely been an experience – a good one.
I’m not normally one for tourist spots, raised in a historical city as I was, so if not for this class, I wouldn’t have visited as many places as I did. I learned a lot about Kyoto, not in terms of facts and figures (although I learned some of those), but in just experiencing the city. If left up to my own explorations, I would have learned much less, especially since most of the things we learned, and places we visited, the residents of the city either don’t know about or don’t think about.
Use of the internet was definitely helpful. Having maps available, even if they were in Japanese, made finding things less difficult. As usual, Wikipedia helped immensely with defining random Japanese terms that we talked about in class but were never really explained. And even though there were times when I wanted to throttle Courseworks for deleting a page and a half of writing seemingly at whim, reading the other students’ comments was insightful. We all had different experiences, and their observations often shed light on places I hadn’t visited or clarified points that I had missed.
I’m not sure how the internet is changing Kyoto
itself, so much as the image of Kyoto. I think the internet has made Kyoto more accessible, in
a way – so much information is available for distribution. Not only information about the city itself,
but the net is also an important marketing tool – travel agencies, hotels, even
the city website which makes it easy for tourists to plan a trip here; I’m
pretty sure that it’s done the same for everywhere though; the first thing I
did when I wanted to go to Kobe was look it up on Google.
I enjoyed keeping the journal, and I think it’s better than
papers. For one, it allows you to see
the way observations have changed over time.
Papers – I’m not sure what I would write about, and they have less time
continuity, since I’m not one of those good students who starts on a paper
weeks in advance. I enjoyed both the
readings and the expeditions – I felt that both were necessary. But I would like to see a bit more
organization, especially in terms of the expeditions. There were a few times when an expedition was
just thrown at us at a really inopportune time, and I felt rushed to go do it
when I had already made other plans for that time. Some of the assignments I thought could have
been more interesting and/or relevant – I’m still not sure what we were
supposed to learn from visiting the Shimadzu factory.
When I had finished putting all these posts together, I looked at it and realized – this begins rather abruptly; perhaps I should write and introduction of sorts, which, like all good introductions, will have been written after everything else and thus contain a (hopefully) more enlightened perspective than something written when I began this journal.
Considering this class as a whole, one thing stood out in my mind, and that was the idea of balance. As someone who generally takes the middleground in a discussion, balance is something that is very important to me. Extremes of any kind don’t tend to work out well, in my experience. Perhaps this is why I enjoy Kyoto so much. I can’t claim to have seen all of it, or even most; but from what I have experienced, Kyoto is a city concerned with the idea of balance. Of course, there’s the typical, oft-mentioned division of old and new that is inherently Kyoto: the futuristic Eki and the traditional street plan; the McDonald’s down the street from the ramen shop run by a single ojiisan; the concrete mansion and wooden machiya that together on the back streets – the list goes on. Everywhere in Kyoto there are mixtures, sycretisms, juxtapositions. At times, they can be so obvious as to be almost invisible to the unobservant – or they can surprise you as you round a corner or glance down a side street.
And Kyoto itself is not unaware of this balance that it has achieved. In fact, it seems to have become a point of pride, that Kyoto is known for as much as for relics of ancient Japan as it is for progressive building projects such as the Biwako Canal and diverse industrial powers such as Shimadzu. Throughout the centuries the city has been flexible, changed and adapted to fit the Japan and the world around it. Because of this, Kyoto has remained a place that is relevant – it has not been left behind, stuck in a past that no longer exists, but has continued to move forward, despite the complaints of critics who, for some reason, want Kyoto to continue to be a place that never was: some kind of anachronistic distillation of Japan; of samurai and geisha, tea and poetry, kimono and wooden houses with bathrooms that are places of quiet repose. I for one am grateful that this is an impossibility.
This balance is a tenuous thing, reached only with no small bit of compromise on the sides of both modernity and antiquity. Kyoto as a city of the “past in the present” is not alone; all human things are influenced by the past to some degree, and must deal with it as they change, cities most especially. More than most, however, Kyoto has ties that are strong, and it is careful in its attempts to preserve them. Kyoto, like the rest of us, will continue to maneuver through times that seem about as navigable as the Kamogawa. Hopefully, her canal building skills will serve her well.
