There is nothing in the Japanese garden that you cannot see.
That was not the lesson I expected to learn when I moved to Kyoto in search of an apprenticeship. I intended to pursue a brief period of practical study before entering graduate school to study Japanese history, rounding out the research that I had done for an undergraduate thesis on symbolism and literary aesthetics in the gardens of the Heian period. While researching that paper, I had become focused on understanding exactly how master Japanese gardeners imbued a garden with the symbolism and imagery that are so often discussed. I harbored an instinctive feeling that the true nature of these sophisticated gardens lay in learning to understand the language of stones. Had I known how many years would pass before I would feel I had grasped the garden, it’s unlikely that I would have continued. It’s tempting to say that my apprenticeship was the most horrible experience I have ever had, but such a simple statement avoids the complexity of that time, and the insights into the garden that I continue to draw from the experience. I have no doubt that my view of the Japanese garden is profoundly different from any underst...
READ THE WHOLE STORY
Join now to access new headline articles, archives back to 1977, and so much more.
Enjoy this article for FREE:
Articles: Calochortophilia: A Californian’s Love Affair with a Genus by Katherine Renz
If you are already a member, please log in using the form below.