CHA no YU no CHA no YU no CHA no YU no CHA no YU ...yes!

The Source of the Water. The Source of the Practice.

"Sensei," the novice monk asked his teacher in the heat of summer, "Which really came first? The tea or the water?"

 "OY! It's getting cold," was the wise reply.

What is commonly referred to as the “Japanese Tea Ceremony”, is literally, “tea’s hot water”. Sen no Rikyu (1522-1592), the founder of our Way of Tea, admonished practitioners to pay strict attention to the source of water for tea, to draw it from a pure source at an auspicious time of day.

For the "Water Pavilion" Project of CURRENT:LA the first Los Angeles Public Art Biennial, we practitioners of chado (the Way of Tea), have been invited by Rirkrit Tiravanija to perform demonstrations in the structure (below) being built over the LA River in Sepulveda Basin Park near Lake Balboa. We will source precious water from the Los Angeles River that has been purified on site through modern methods and is potable, another of the important aspects of his presentation.

As our water is from the many streams feeding the L.A. River, the sources of the practice are the many streams of Zen Buddhism. As if to fortell Los Angeles’ unique cultural diversity, the great teacher Eihei Dogen Zenji (1200 – 1253) wrote in the Sansui-Kyo (Mountains and Rivers Sutra), “Ikken Shisui” (One View, Four [Different kinds of] Water). This can be interpreted as not only is there is water in the world, but there is a world in water. It is not just in water.

Presentation on July 16 (2-3pm) and July 17 (3 - 4pm), 6300 Balboa Ave., Van Nuys

In addition to its practical use in the host’s making a bowl of green tea for a guest, the notion of “water” will be reflected in the thematic aspects of today’s presentation of two distinct procedures appropriate to the summer season and auspicious occasion.

Meisuidate 名水点 Koichademae: The formal preparation of matcha (powdered green tea) utilizing water drawn from a famous source. Upon entering the space, the guest notices the tsurube, an unfinished well bucket made of hinoki cypress with special paper decorations to denote the purity of the water. This prompts a request to taste the water from the well bucket before the hot water is added from the kettle to make a bowl of tea.

Araijakin 洗茶巾 Usuchademae: As it is summertime, we will do an informal preparation utilizing a rather shallow tea bowl that is brought into the preparation area filled with water. A broad leaf (habuta), with dew drops, stands in for the lid on the fresh water container, all done to evoke a sense of coolness.

Additionally, poetic names of utensils will reflect the greater understanding and realization of the purpose of the gathering ... just that the host makes a bowl of tea for the guest. The guest receives the bowl of tea from the host.

Thus, the fundamental embodiment of tea preparation, Wa. Kei. Sei. Jaku. (Harmony. Respect. Purity. Tranquility.), we hope will be realized.

2016 Chanoyu Demonstrations in Los Angeles

I am getting inquiries about where people can see chanoyu demonstrations. Many Buddhist temples with chado clubs had demonstrations during obon. There are a few other ways to see tea practiced as a demonstration.

I'll begin the list here and continue to add to it. All will expect a donation (usually $5/person for a bowl of tea and sweet. Free to observe; Chasenkuyo includes a service and meal @ $50/person)

2016

• July 9, 10 @ Zenshuji Soto Mission (Buddhist Temple) Obon Carnival  http://www.zenshuji.org/images/ZenshujiObon2016.jpg

• July 9, 10 @ Nishi Hongwanji (Buddhist Temple) Obon Carnival http://www.japanese-city.com/calendar/events/index.php?eID=33329

• July 26, 27 @ Higashi Hongwanji (Buddhist Temple) Obon Carnival http://hhbt-la.org/?p=1587

• August 13 – 21 (weekends only) Nisei Week  http://www.niseiweek.org/2016-nisei-week-dates/

• Varies (check calendar) Hunting Gardens Seifuan Tea House (not usually open to the public) http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/2483193 (spring 2016)

• November 6, @ Zenshuji Chasenkuyo (advance reservations required) www.zenshuji.org

Turning Japanese? I Hardly Think そ: Review: Making Tea, Making Japan Kristin Surak

Review: Making Tea, Making Japan: Cultural Nationalism Practice

by Kristin Surak (Stanford CA, Stanford University Press, 2013)

What’s all this fuss about Japanese tea anyway?” begins a quiz I give to students after I do a demonstration in conjunction with their Japanese culture curriculum. I usually don’t don kimono, not only because there’s not lots of prep time, but also because it sends a different message than what I hope they will experience. 

Why are we studying the culture of other people? I my youth it was because it was out of my regular “ordinary” experience; it seemed exotic and either made my own daily existence look better or different. Since beginning my study of chanoyu in 1985, and being one of only a few Occidental people who has stuck it out, I can now say that it is within my regular “ordinary” experience. 

My friends seem to think that I’ve turned Japanese, but that is categorically impossible as Kristin Surak’s new book that explores how chanoyu has molded and been molded by the core essence of Japanese-ness: 

The tea practice – the preparation procedures and modes interaction at lessons – 
began to mold my foreign body into forms regarded as distinctively Japanese.

Turning Japanese? I Hardly Think そ

As a left-handed, cross-country skiing Jewish feminist, such a transformation is not likely, but something has happened and for some reason it has made its impact.

Perhaps the best test has been during numerous subsequent visits to Japan. When I mention upon first encounter with a Japanese native that I have been studying chanoyu since that time with a distinguished tea master, people stop what they are doing, inhale slightly through the teeth and a type of relief mixed with fear comes over the person with whom I am conversing: Relief that I may understand them at their core. Fear that I may ask them a questions or, perhaps worse, that I may invite them to participate in a tea gathering, an activity about which they in fact never cared too much for or about which they may know very little.

When I would be invited to join other tea folks to do a demonstration at the annual Japan Expo in Los Angeles, I am usually stopped during my break time walking around to see the other exhibitions / demonstrations by an arguably Japanese (language accent) ...

 
"You wear kimono yourself?"

To which I usually replied, pulling the neckline out a bit in the front and peering down into the chasm of my décolletage that has been stuffed into the coquettishly kokeshi tubular form, much like those devices that produce perfectly round hard boiled eggs that are then sliced and served in airplane salads ...

 "I'm the only one in there."

Of course, this questions is literally a translation from Japanese into English, as "mono" means "thing/object" and "ki" refers to the verb "to wear", so a kimono is a thing to wear, but it has tremendous cultural implications.

A sister tea practitioner social anthropologist Kristin Surak has written an important and essential book that will help the curious place the impact of chanoyu where it belongs in Japan, smack dab in the middle of the culture. While the finger that points to the moon is “only” the finger, tea is absolutely tea and the ritual is reasonably identified as and of Japan (even though it is also of China and Korea). Like a horse with a wandering soul, it takes a strong trainer to keep it on course. This has been the work of many aficionados for more than 450 years. 

Likewise, there is a Zen Buddhist parable that states the taste of Tea and Zen are one ... or maybe it's One. There are many tea practitioners who can't possibly practice the forms without kimono. The garb does support the torso while sitting seiza, and the temae gestures do specifically accommodate and even enable the long sleeves -- doing double duty as pockets -- to be seen as a type of prop. The folds become essential "pockets" for various cloths and papers used by both host and guest.

Coquettish Kokeshi

Some might call me an "Orientalist" to the extent that I still find many aspects of Asian cultures, especially Japanese, very attractive. As I have some beautiful kimono to okeiko and tea events, even  kotohjime at the JACCC, but as I've aged my body type just is not made for this cut of cloth. I stick to haori for formal Western wear and samue for informal gatherings where I wish to show cultural symbiosis.
 

When I began practicing chanoyu, I had lost quite a bit of weight and, for my first public demonstration, several of the Japanese ladies who were helping me dress, were muttering about how many towels it was going to take to fill up waistline. From them on I learned how to dress myself so I could avoid that stuffy feeling. Anything to avoid The Vapors!

As my body filled itself out naturally over time, I know now why the obijime is worn low on the obi if one is of middle age and older. While it may be a sign that one is young and available for marriage if it sits mid-way, the lower position is more likely practical to hold fast to the extra material when more of the long sash is need to circumnavigate the midriff, leaving much less "extra" flap to tuck upward behind the "pillow".

And there is the matter of the various useful, however unglamorous strings that I have inherited from various kind women who took pity on my not having an appropriate kimono trousseau, including koshihimo, strings, usually pink or white but mine is light blue and purple wave pattern, are a formal description of these unsung heroes. I can also measure my girth and have had to resort to pretty serious knots. 

There is nothing useful to be said about zori, except that if there are puddles, get high ones, but otherwise one really doesn't need them most of the time for tea ceremony events in a home. I usually wear men's varieties to accommodate the essential tabi, or use Birkenstock sandals so I can drive my car.

12/11/18 Post Script:









I am reminded of a situation where I was asked if I could help dress in kimono a younger Japanese woman, one of the participants in a new year's tea event held at a large western-style hotel in Los Angeles. I responded with a yes and was told to find her in an anteroom where other women were getting into their kimono. She showed me her official kimono suitcase, with various ties and sections, each for a unique tie or scarf, tabi or board and the  major section that held a beautiful perfectly folded silk kimono and obi. She was quite beautiful, slender and ready for instructions. I excused myself and ran back to the mizuya to find my colleague who had sent me on this mission. "I can help her dress, but I cannot make her look Japanese. Only like an American in a kimono." I suggested that I help out in the kitchen cleaning tea bowls and that someone else should help her!

 

Presto! Everything Up My Sleeve! Tea Performances!

I've always felt that inspecting the fukusa for koicha was like the floating "zombie ball" magic trick. In fact, I've been thinking about substituting one of those special magical cloths for a fukusa.

What do people see in the Japanese tea ceremony that makes them want us to do a demonstration on a stage?

The gestures themselves are so minuscule, mostly happening between the shoulders and waists of two people seated in a 9' square hut.

Chanoyu is not a spectator sport.

Even if eyes could penetrate the walls, nothing much happens ... water boils, steam rises, whisking inside a small bowl, a slurp, bowing. Pretty mundane.

I am of the opinion that it is the kimono that is of greater interest to those who have not seen the procedures.

Our bodies are choreographed through chado practice to accommodate the design of kimono sleeve, trying to naturally not droop our arms and elbows while our posture is erect handling the hishaku, fukusa, etc.

However overtly voluminous, there is nothing up my sleeves, to quote an oft heard phrase in magic acts, but they clearly figure prominently in the attractiveness, dare one say, the mystique, of the presentation. An amateur magician could not get away with such an outfit. S/he would be suspect immediately.

Sleeves are more receptacles for "trash" than repositories for the dieus ex machina of the "trick". That place is reserved in the breast fold of the kimono, in plane view of the guest. Holding kaishi and kobukusa in the flap of one's kimono provides easy access to these objects during the course of the temae, but is not very good magician styling.

In 1986, having been bitten only a year prior by the bug of chado, I was privileged to witness a kencha presented by then Hounsai Oiemoto, Sen Soshitsu XV, onstage at the Japan America Theatre in Los Angeles. From my vantage in the balcony, I saw this rather tall man seated in front of the daisu. While I had only once seen the set up at my sensei's tea room for hatsugama, I knew that there was very little room to remove the hibashi and hishaku from the shakutate under the top shelf. Yet, what I "saw" was the daisu stretching upward to accommodate these long handled utensils in the hand of this hardly diminutive man with long sleeved black haori. When I mentioned my experience to a more senior student, I was advised not to try to copy the oiemoto's temae. That was very good "magician" styling for sure.

In Praise of Chasen

There is such a distinct beauty in a chasen crafted in Japan compared to those mass produced now in China. I can actually make better tea with the former. The material feels good in the hand. (Yet I must admit that having a chasen readily available in Los Angeles -- thank you Co-opportunity Market, Whole Foods, Asian culture museums and gift shops! -- is a blessing these days.)

I have continued to wonder about the history of chasen making. Several years ago I read in Misiko Hane's "Peasants, Rebels, and Outcastes: The Underside of Modern Japan" (New York. Pantheon. 1982) that chasens were made by folks who were considered burakumin. It brought back an odd experience I had when inquiring about wanting to visit a maker of this most beautiful hand tool when I first visited Midorikai as a guest student. Thinking my enthusiasm to know more about the sources of chadogo would be well met, I felt my query was dismissed for some uncomfortable (for them, not me) reason. "Too far away. Out of town."

I recently inquired of Ted Fowler, a retired professor of Japanese culture who has studied caste systems. He confirmed for me that

 "All of the crafts you mention -- low-paying but requiring a goodly amount of skill -- were often associated with
burakumin in the past.  Many of these artifacts are no longer made domestically, and so the current situation is a bit different. It is important, i believe, to stress
the immense contribution made by non-caste groups to Japanese culture -- culture that we look on today as sanctified by the patina of 'tradition' or 'traditional arts.'"

Nonetheless, I am in awe without hesitation at the legacy of craftsmanship shown in this video about the making of chasen today byTango Tanimura, the 20th generation of the fabled family. Situated like 95% of all chasen makers in Japan in Takayama village in Nara, the family's name is recorded as having been patronized by the Tokugawa Shogun, among other notables. Jun Tanimura has a Facebook page.


Studio KotoKoto in San Diego CA has a great English language account about this family's work. Another good source of information about Takayama village chasen making is here.

MAP OF CLASSIC KYOTO SWEET SHOPS

I have begun creating a map of classic Kyoto Sweet Shops and would like folks to add to it. I'm not being very fancy at this point, but would like to ultimately have an annotated description (images, history, etc.) of the great sweets that have accompanied chanoyu over time. All submissions are welcome.  Here's the link.
The list to date includes:
Arashiyama Asatsukicho

Chogoro Mochi Hompa

Kaigen

Kamehironaga

Kameya Kiyonaga

Kameya Norikatsu

Kamihoritsumecho

Kanshundo

Kashiwaya Mitsusada

Kawabata Doki

Kogetsu

Kyo Namagashi-shi Matsuya

Kyoukashitsukasa Kameya

Malebranche

Nijo Wakasaya

Oimatsu

Otabe (various locations)

Ryuen

Shiryokan

Shogoin

Suetomi

Surugaya

Tamaruya

Tawaraya Yoshitomi

Tsuboneya

Tsuruya Yoshinobu

Nothing Up My Sleeve: Managing Expectations When Requested to Do a Japanese Tea Ceremony

"We'd love you to do a tea ceremony for us ... "

I recently agreed to do two off-site (i.e. not in a room with tatami) chanoyu demonstrations, each one requiring a lot of imagination to create the intimacy one associates with the post-card ambience: that quiet garden in a Kyoto temple where lovely ladies in gorgeous kimono quietly serve a bowl of tea to guests who are seated seiza on tatami without the pain in their legs rushing up to their faces!

While I appreciate being asked and am more than happy to share what I have learned and enjoy about chado, I really have to stop for a moment and consider what it entails.

I will not take apart my chashitsu to schlep tatami on location; I don't own furniture, such as a misonodana; I don't believe that a simple ryakubon or chabako has the theatrical impact when presenting it to large groups.

Managing expectations, what a great magician can do, seems to be the most difficult aspect of complying with this request. If willing, a magician does the trick several times and then will slowly go through the motions and explain the ruse that her well-honed skills enable her to enact. It also requires the audience to suspend disbelief.

I have in fact told my "audiences" that I am here to manage their expectations.

I have explained the order of the day: I go over what I am about to do; I will do it; and, finally, nothing will happen. 

What do you "want" to see? What do you think "will occur"?  

Temae is a series of choreographed hand gestures that produces something very, very ordinary. One doesn't need to learn the gestures to produce something that everyone can easily take for granted and basically does every day themselves.

For this reason I usually don't put on kimono; I wear a haori for dramatic effect and might remove it; I wear a black turtleneck and black meditation pants, and tabi. The closest my hairdo will come to a geisha wig might be if I wore Mickey Mouse ears with chopstix through them.

Presto!? I only wish that it was so Presto! 

It always feels like car camping: I have to set up a makeshift mizuya, often where there is no potable running water or electricity for the hotplate in the furo; sumi is usually out of the question (no indoor fires, expensive and hard to get in the USA).

But I did them. One of the demonstrations -- with just a demo guest; no tea would be served to the audience -- was moved from a university classroom to an outdoor concrete patio (so that more people could watch and several budgets tapped for the honorarium). The other was in a museum classroom where 25+ audience members would be served tea as well as would the one guest.

In all cases I had one hour to do the presentation, including the set / clean up in the first case. The kama didn't have time to cool down completely before I had to leave. There wasn't a place, except for the bathroom, to clean the bowls if serving tea to "real" guests.

I deeply appreciate my helpers in all cases. When I offered to my assistants the opportunity to not wear kimono, Nobie mentioned that it was the mizuya-cho's responsibility to make the host look good.

I learned a lot from this statement. Thanks! Gassho!

What is most remarkable, however, is that the temae itself seems to draw people into a single mindedness, even if they are seated on chairs and the activity is on the floor. Folks mention it afterwards. I'm humbled.

It seems different when chajin decide to do a chakai in an "experimental" situation. I'll write more about this in a future post.

Post Script

A month later I received a call from an artist whose friends were putting together a tea house in Griffith Park, the city park, in a secret-sort-of place on a hiking trail.

They thought they wanted to have a tea ceremony, but not actually all of it, but sort-of so that about 20 people could share a meditative experience together overlooking Los Angeles from the mountain top. No heating. No hot water.

They wanted to "give back" to the people of Los Angeles. Everything, from the lumber to the hot water would have to be hiked up the hill on the paths.

I suggested that the process of chanoyu involved an intimate relationship of host and guest, and the venue would be unmanageable. I advised them to get some tea bags and sit quietly together. I'm glad I didn't do it, but happy they proceeded with some plans to do what they could (tea bag, thermos). I eventually hiked up to see the venue before it was removed by the park service crew. Lovely hut with an internal bench and several "windows" cut into the walls. It was more "outhouse" but was well respected by those who made the trek.