Pink Latte: a fashion temple

Yesterday I was wandering around in the back streets near Shingyoku-dori when I stumbled on quite an incredible sight. A new shop has opened (in fact it only opened yesterday) called Pink Latte. It stocks a range of ultra girly clothes and accessories with a predominantly pink theme as is no doubt obvious by the name. The staff member told me it was aimed at the junior high school market. The extraordinary thing about the shop is the building. The overall image is of a Japanese temple – a pink Japanese temple. It has the pagoda-style roof, the temple posts and lanterns. Then, inside the wallpaper, a cool goth black, sports an outrageously eye-burning pink mon motif. I wandered around with my jaw on the floor. Plus I’m sure the whole building didn’t exist a week ago – they seem to have constructed it in record time.

Art flower workshop

Yesterday I did an art flower workshop at my favourite Kyoto clothing designer, Pagong. There were only three of us in the class. I arrived early, having cycled across Kyoto to get to Pagong’s head office in the southern part of the Nishijin quarter, so I had time to shop – dangerous! The two other women for the class came slightly early too, and when one of them found out I was intending to do the class she said, ‘Kowai’ (she was scared). I’m not exactly sure what she was scared of – perhaps I have more of a presence than I think.

We were shown upstairs and greeted by Endou-sensei, a glamorous woman with carefully curled locks, perfect make-up and decorated nails. She told me her husband makes lacquerware for the temples.

My classmates had obviously done workshops there before as they got into selecting their fabric straight away. Nishimura-san calls herself a ‘wa-designer’ (‘wa’ means Japanese-style or peace and harmony). She was the more vocal of the two, asking me questions and arguing with the sensei. In fact, Nishimura-san was such a chatterbox that I never discovered the other woman’s name.

After selecting our fabric, in this case silk printed by Pagong, we started bending our wires into our desired petal shapes. Then we chose a centre bobble and glued it together. Using a little glue, we had to stick the wire petals onto the fabric and cut them out, leaving a 5mm trim to be folded under and glued. The gluing and cutting took the better part of the lesson. Once that was all done we had to arrange the petals in a desired configuration, glue them altogether, cut off the stem and hot glue it to the corsage pin. They all praised me on my good taste and told me I had a Japanese sense but I think they were just being polite. Still, if you see me wearing a large flower, be kind.

HeadSpace

Newly formed Studio HeadSpace held a one-night arts and music festival in Osaka on Saturday night. Studio HeadSpace is an artist-run non-profit gallery in Nara whose mission is to ‘promote and support artists based in Kansai.’ Saturday night boasted no less than six bands, eight DJs and the involvement of over 30 artists and performers. Cafe Absinthe hosted the event in their Yotsubashi premises. The event involved art installations and artworks in progress – the artists adding to their works as the night progressed. There were projections on the walls, live music, drums, jugglers, saxophonists and dancers walking through the crowd. Diane Orrett, well known in Kansai for her rakugo (Japanese story-telling) and other event performances, danced through the rooms announcing each event. Takeshi Araki, of Design Festa Gallery in Harajuku, came from Tokyo especially for the event. He appeared surprised at the size of the event and asked if this kind of thing happened often in Osaka. By all accounts the evening was extremely successful with all proceeds going to the participating artists and musicians.

Dancer in an art installation at the art and music festival

Studio HeadSpace has also just initiated its international residency programme, hosting David Shillinglaw from the UK. I caught up with Shillinglaw at the festival and asked him how the past two weeks had been. ‘I’ve been treated very well,’ he said, delighted. He is well-versed in the international residency scene, having already completed residencies in China and Turkey. His artwork at the event covered one wall, a large face painted on cardboard boxes, its huge eyes watching over the whole event.

Shillinglaw, a friend of Jamie Goodenough (Director of Studio HeadSpace), was clearly an obvious choice as first artist-in-residence. He runs Nowhere North gallery in London and had been discussing a collaboration with Goodenough for a while. He was a good choice in that his charismatic personality added to Saturday night’s event. He flitted through the crowd talking to strangers about his work with ease, exuding energy,  joking with people and handing out hand-sewn booklets of his work.

David Shillinglaw adding to his artwork

Shillinglaw’s initial response to what influence Japan has had on his work was slightly disappointing. ‘I’d be doing the same thing wherever I was,’ he said. ‘ But I can’t get the paints I usually use so I have to use what is locally available.’ Then he pointed to a corner of his painting where some of the unpainted cardboard showed through, revealing a word. ‘That says cabbage.’ It was written in katakana. Obviously, he initially didn’t know the meaning and, after people mentioned it, he said it started to make him think. He feels his inability to read Japanese has been an advantage because it has made him see things differently. ‘Everything is a graphic to me.’ He feels that in Japan the commercial graphics are of a higher quality, that even the images on the side of trucks are interesting. ‘The lines are so clean.’ His artworks are graphic representations of Picasso-like faces with words inserted, labels of face parts, arrows, blocks of colour, stripes and patterns. Words and wordplay appear integral to his artwork so his inability to read Japanese must have a significant effect. To give Shillinglaw his due, he has only been in the country for two weeks. Perhaps he needs time to digest the experience before it comes out in his work.

Artwork by David Shillinglaw

Ippodo

On Friday afternoon I visited the famous Kaboku tearoom run by the Ippodo Tea Company on Teramachi-dori in Kyoto. I had to wait for about 20 minutes just to be seated as it is peak season in Japan at the moment. Ippodo has been around for about three centuries so I decided it must be worth the wait. Most foreign visitors won’t be able to experience true tea ceremony in Japan as it requires many years of study, but there are some options that give a glimpse of chado (the way of tea). Some temples and gardens serve tea in a tea ceremony style. Teashops offer a more relaxed way to experience Japanese tea.

I decided to order koicha as it was listed under matcha (green tea made of powdered tea leaves) on the menu. The young waitress, Sakata-san, asked me, ‘Are you sure you want to order koicha?’ Her question made me nervous so I asked for her recommendation. She said, ‘After you have koicha, we will serve you usucha. Would you like me to make it for you?’ I nodded vigorously.

Sakata-san brought a tray with a tea bowl, tea whisk, wagashi (a sweet), hot towel, and a thermos with hot water. She used a small porcelain bowl to add water to the matcha powder, explaining, ‘Koicha uses 4 grams of matcha powder. Usual matcha uses 2 grams.’

I’d always thought matcha was fairly strong but koicha (literally ‘thick tea’) turns out to be the espresso-version of matcha. I noticed that the whisk is used just to stir rather than whisk the koicha because it is so thick. Sakata-san expertly picked up the bowl and rolled it around so the bright grass-green tea coated the sides of the bowl. It was then ready to drink. The day’s wagashi was sakura-mochi (a cherry blossom sweet), as is fitting for the season. As is usual with green tea, the wagashi serves to complement the bitterness of the tea. However, the more expensive the tea, the less bitter it is. Koicha is so thick that you can’t actually drink it all because it sticks to the bowl, which is why they make usucha (literally ‘thin tea’) from the remaining tea. By adding more water, Sakata-san whisked it into the usual matcha froth. I asked her if most Japanese people know about koicha and she said no, that really only the people with an interest in tea know how to make it.

Kyo Odori

Yesterday I was lucky enough to be given a ticket to one of the annual spring dances, Kyo Odori. The Gion geiko and maiko perform these every year at five different theatres in Kyoto. I had seen the Miyako Dori before but the Kyo Dori was a little different. It is performed by maiko and geiko of Miyagawa-cho Kabu-kai. It is held at the Miyagawa-cho Kaburen-jo Theater and the dancers perform some short skits taken from places and things in Kyoto, as well as dances about the coming of the spring. Of course, the kimono were incredibly beautiful – in particular a rich teal furisode (long-sleeved kimono) with flowing water patterns down the sleeves. The geiko wore black kimono with waves lapping around their feet. The poses they struck during the dances, and the shapes they created were stunning. They made quick little running steps, kicking the length of their kimono out of the way with their tabi-encased feet, coyly hiding behind fans or slowly wafting them to depict the warm spring air. It was enchanting.

Before the dance, geiko and maiko served us matcha and a sweet. I was surprised that we could take the little porcelain plate home with us as a souvenir.

We could take photographs in the theatre before the performance but not during it. As always, when asked not to take photographs I respect the wishes of those that ask. Unfortunately the group of foreigners in front of me did not. They were asked to stop taking photographs at least three times during the performance, and still tried to sneakily take shots whilst looking over their shoulders for the attendants. Not only did this disturb other patrons, it is deeply disrespectful. They were so busy trying to take photographs it seemed they couldn’t even enjoy the performance anyway. When visitors behave this way it is hardly surprising Japanese hesitate to open their traditional culture to those from outside.

Sakura fever

Yesterday the cherry blossoms were at their peak and sakura fever definitely had its grip on Kyoto. The streets were packed with people and there were traffic jams throughout the city. It’s hard not to get caught up in it all so here is a photographic essay for just a taste of it.

Cherry blossom along the Kamo River, with the northern hills in the distance.

Along the Kamo River, Sunday 4th April.

Full bloom, Kamo River, Kyoto

Tetsugaku no michi (the Philosopher's Path)

Shirakawa Gion

Lights up at Maruyama Park

Hanami, Maruyama Park

Sumo

March 2010 Osaka Basho

Sadanofuji

Last Friday I managed to catch some sumo at the Osaka Basho. In order to get a ticket, I got up at 6am and caught the train down to Osaka. The Basho is held at the Prefectural Gymnasium in Namba. The tickets for the day go on sale from 8am and I wanted to buy a general admission ticket. It’s only 2,000yen – cheap for a whole day of entertainment.

The tournament starts at 10:45am and goes on until 6pm. Many people only show up for the last couple of hours when the makuuchi (top division of professionals) are on, so the crowd was thin for most of the day. This was great for me because I sat up the front until then. The officials actually let you sit anywhere until the ticket-holder of the seats arrive.

The juryo division enter the fray

From the start of the day until about 3pm it is the amateur divisions, the makushita (literally ‘under the curtain’) who have all of their bouts. Things are often over in the blink of an eye and the amateurs don’t play up to the crowd as much as the pros. They are more perfunctory and get on with it. I was surprised that even some of them seemed to have some avid supporters amongst the crowd, and the big guys always get extra cheers.

Yokozuna Hakuho throws salt into the air

Yokozuna Hakuho put up a nail-biting fight against Harumafuji. He’s strong and the crowd seem to love him. He won all of his 15 bouts for this tournament.

Full gallery of images can be seen here.

Dances of the grotesque

Last night I went to see a Butoh performance by Ima-Tenko. It was my first (and possibly last) time to see Butoh. Before the performance I had a vague idea about Butoh dance – that it is esoteric, avant garde, surreal. I imagined something like Dadaism for the dance world – I wasn’t far wrong.

The performance was in the Gojo Rakuen Kaburenjo, a Taisho-period theatre tucked away in the back streets of Gojo that is famous in Kyoto for being the training venue of geiko and maiko. We were seated on zabuton on the floor and the proscenium-arch stage had additional stages running down each side of the room. I was seated on the right. The band, a traditional Japanese accompaniment of shamisen and percussion, began playing on the left. Suddenly, I realised that the dancers were all posed down the right side, whitened faces grimacing, eyes rolling, pretending to eat fruit in over-exaggerated actions. I hadn’t heard them appear and the intended dramatic result was effective. They slowly crawled off, still eating, twisting their arms and legs in grasping motions.

Next came a tall dancer in a long ragged gown holding golden balls in each hand that appeared to be magnetic forces, pushing and pulling her up, down, lifting her, dragging her body while she fought it. Then three large red pomegranates sat on stage. Heads started to peep out of the tops, and white hands pulled and ripped the pods until they emerged, the pod peeling down and becoming the lower part of the costume. Each dancer had red and orange balls sewn to their backs, perhaps supposed to be the seeds of a pomegranate but they reminded me of pustules. The dancers then began to eat, gorging themselves on imaginary things from the air and their own bodies. A dancer in a red fishtail dress fluttered a large black feather fan. Two other dancers joined her and they performed a semi-erotic mechanical wiggle. These were the only Western-style clothes; the rest of the costumes were based on kimono in royal blues and purples or tunics in oranges and greens.

A dancer jumped about the stage to music, doing wild leaps like a monkey, her mouth open in a gape of silent anguish and pain, stopping occasionally to pant and watch us. Three black-clad dancers stood in a line, only their white hands lit, disembodied and curled into witch-like claws. A pair of dancers stretched their feet out like vines searching for something, encountering each other and then struggling as if in sibling rivalry, their bodies rolling and thrashing on the floor. There were a few moments of comedy: one dance was followed by a dancer sitting on a squeaky scooter, following the others and laughing maniacally; Ima-Tenko lifted her ruffled skirt and flashed her bottom at the end of another dance, with a sly mocking leer.

The dancers were amazing. They gave the appearance of having out-of-control bodies by maintaining extreme control. They were very fit and the performance was obviously strenuous. What they do takes skill and dynamism. They have to know the capability of their bodies thoroughly and push themselves to the limit. Having said that, I couldn’t bring myself to like or enjoy the performance. When I finished school I did life-drawing classes for a couple of years. Our teacher once asked the model to strike the ugliest pose they could, in order to prove to us that the body is always beautiful. At the time I agreed, but that was before I saw Butoh. These dancers managed to put the human body into the ugliest positions imaginable. They twisted and contorted themselves, convulsing in fits while grimacing as if in pain. The dances were all about emerging, painful births followed by gorging sessions, appetites insatiable as they pretended to shove food into their mouths, bodies spasming and limbs jutting out at odd angles like bones. They rolled and flailed their bodies about the stage in a primordial arrhythmic motion. Their whitened skin, yellowed or blackened teeth and red eyes, seemed to accentuate the deathlike pall. The costumes, although in lovely colours, were ripped and ragged, giving the dancers the air of penniless travelling players. Their hair was teased into wild birds nests, adding to the impoverished impression.

Ima-Tenko’s solo dance left me confused and repulsed. She was wearing only a red fundoshi (the traditional Japanese undergarment for adult males comprising of a strip of cloth), her entire body painted white, her flat chest and prominent ribs accentuated by the lighting. She writhed and stretched, sometimes emitting yelps, staring at the audience like someone unhinged, her face pulled into a kabuki mask of angst. She turned her back on us and jiggled her not-so-young butt cheeks at us – was it supposed to be amusing, erotic, a mockery? I felt that, although an amazing use of the body, Butoh is one long complaint about the human condition, about our failing bodies, our base instincts, our worst fears about our own mortality. I’ve always thought that to dance is to celebrate life, but these performances show the repulsive aspects of human bodies. Butoh is the antithesis of a geisha’s dance. If Butoh celebrates anything, it celebrates the grotesque. Perhaps that is the point but I can’t help feeling that focusing on this is not enjoyable. What is the audience supposed to take away with them? It certainly made me think, made me feel uncomfortable, sometimes revolted me, and I’m glad I went but I can’t say I’d like to see Butoh again.

Pagong Spring Fashion Show

On Saturday I photographed the Pagong spring fashion show. Surprisingly, it is only their second show to date but they are planning more and in other countries, namely Singapore, Thailand and Malaysia (Pagong is available at Isetan Department Store in Singapore, Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur). I have been wearing Pagong clothes and been interested in the company for several years now. I also interviewed Company Director Kameda-san in 2007 for the ‘Kyoto Lives’ issue of Kyoto Journal. At that time, Kameda-san told me that Pagong were not interested in expanding or going international. It seems that things might have changed on that score, perhaps prompted by the economic downturn in the last couple of years. Naturally Kameda-san was a little preoccupied on Saturday so we didn’t have much of a chance to talk to him about his plans. He didn’t even seem to remember me even though I hailed him with, ‘Hisashiburi’, but it might have just been a case of the typical Kyoto reserve.

The last time I spoke with Kameda-san he told me how his inspiration for the company had originally come from aloha shirts. His family has a long history of kimono production but obviously demand for kimono these days isn’t so great. Looking for an alternative, he heard the story of Japanese emigrants to Hawaii who cut up their kimono to create aloha shirts. Kameda-san took the idea and created Pagong, originally producing men’s shirts in cotton or silk. Since the foundation of the company in 2002 it has branched into women’s fashion and women by far make up the majority of Pagong’s clientele. This was clear at the fashion show on Saturday where women outweighed men by about ten to one.

The summer line for Pagong is mostly made up of their usual strong colours and bold designs. New apparel for 2010 included: a striking u-shaped top with a pattern of red, black, white and yellow and a different pattern on the back; a 3/4 sleeve white blouse with Chinese neck-line, printed with blue, black and red chrysanthemums; a v-neck hip-length top with side-tying sash in pastel purple, turquoise and glittering silver; a purple v-neck dress with a bold pattern down one side; and a colourful men’s shirt in pink, blue, green and yellow multiple overlaid designs. Pagong now has three shops in Kyoto – their honten (main shop), a Gion shop and a new shop in Kyoto Station. They also have another brand called Sanjo (the shop is on Sanjo) which favours chiffon dresses and blouses in pastel colours. The new summer line for Sanjo is bright and breezy with floaty long-line tops that made me wish I had much longer legs.

After the show we were shown around the factory. It’s incredible that Pagong can produce such a large range of clothing and accessories when they only have five people working in the factory. As we watched the artisan making up dye from the powdered pigments, one of the staff explained that if it is out by a gram or two it can ruin the whole batch. Much of the skill for kyo-yuzen 京友禅 (Kyoto dyeing tradition), is the mixing of the dye and the choice of colours for each pattern. Each colour must be laid down separately so the complexity of the pattern and number of colours determines the number of times it has to be printed. Some pieces take more than 20 different colours.

One of the new designs Kameda-san was keen to show off was an aloha shirt with a design taken from a work in the Tokyo National Museum. Kameda-san explained how he had to obtain special permission to use the image featuring a giant prawn. Having seen his stock of kimono patterns in the factory warehouse, I was surprised at this decision. He literally has hundreds of designs as his disposal but he has an innovative streak, witnessed in his development of a manga about Pagong, and his new haunted house concept. The latter sprang from a collaboration with detective film director Professor Kaizo Hayashi. Part of the Pagong factory has been turned into a haunted house for Pagong members, and apparently features chilling special effects.

Mode Japonism

Tayu 太夫, the hair style of an Edo-period courtesan.

A more modern style with a Japanese feel.

On Monday evening I attended a hair show titled Mode Japonism. The hair show was held by Keiichi Hanada who specialises in Nihongami (日本髪),  traditional Edo-period Japanese coiffure. These days it is rare to find a hair stylist who has the skills or knowledge to create such hairstyles. In fact, Hanada-san told me there are only about five individuals in Kyoto who have these skills and all of them are elderly. Hanada-san was only able to learn the styles by approaching these artists over 100 times before one of them agreed to teach him.

As is usual in the Japanese arts, it takes many years of practice and study to acquire the skills to execute these hairstyles. Hanada-san also studied Ukiyo-e, traditional woodblock prints, to get a better understanding of many of the hairstyles. The list of recorded styles runs to well over 100 for the Edo period, with almost three times as many hair ornaments (kanzashi) for different occasions. Kanzashi were selected depending on season but also on a variety of other factors. Type and location of kanzashi in the hairstyle was used to inform others of an individual’s status in Edo period Japan.

Hanada-san putting the final touches on a Bunkin Taka-shimada, a traditional bridal hair style.

Hanada-san does many types of Western and traditional Japanese hairstyles at his salon, Arms, in Kyoto. He studied Nihongami styles for ten years but does not do maiko or geiko. That world is still a closed one and the patron–client relationship is considered sacred.

Hanada-san does styles for weddings, including the traditional Japanese Bunkin Taka-shimada. This was the style we watched him create on Monday evening. He had already created four other styles for the show, having started the day at 6am. The Bunkin Taka-shimada took him about an hour to do, and he had already prepared the hair a little beforehand, which gives some idea of the complexity of the style. Traditional combs are used along with  a special wax made of soy derivative called bintsuke-abura. The latter is also used by sumo.

The day finished in the studio at Wings Kyoto with a quick photo shoot that Hanada-san invited me to join. The models were tired and needed to go so we did a rapid shutter-clicking whirlwind and then they were gone to have their locks untied and de-waxed.

Full gallery of images can be seen here.

Genroku-shimada style