The struggle between nature and artifice

This honbo garden is in the building called hojo abbot’s quarters at Tofukuji temple, a large temple of the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism. It is in the style of a karesansui, or dry garden, a type said to have existed since the Asuka period (550-710 CE), which, while using no water, expresses water. The karesansui style had developed along with Zen Buddhism, which was introduced to Japan in the Kamakura period (1185-1333), and combined with the wabi aesthetic that arose in the middle of the Muromachi period (1336-1573), it enhanced the sophistication of abstraction that attracted people's attention. Mirei Shigemori was a garden designer/landscape architect who was active all the way back in the Showa era (1926-1989). Although it may not have been his intention, I cannot help but feel a marvelous sense of humor (and creative pranks) in his work.

It seems that Mirei Shigemori had mainly undertaken gardens for private residences, but at the age of 43, he was asked to create a garden for a temple for the first time. It was the honbo garden at Tofukuji. The south garden, which is the main part of the garden, is also worth seeing, but I would like to say that the north garden, with its square stones and moss jostling with each other, is one of the most impressive of all Japanese gardens. It is said that the stones used in this garden are scrap material from the stones that once blanketed the temple grounds. The mosses thrive as if gushing through the checkerboard of stones.

The exuberant moss seems to be bursting with the will to grow. In contrast, the square stones settle as a cold plane stifling this growth. Humans sense the vibrancy of life in that which gushes forth. On the other hand, we also feel the nobility in that which is strictly ordered. This garden splendidly expresses the antagonism between that which constantly overflows and that which suppresses it, and it is wonderful that this representation is not as a fixed object but as a living garden in perpetual motion.

A garden is a struggle between artifice and nature. No matter what kind of aesthetic sense is at work, manipulation or artifice is a provocation to nature. If I may use the word (without fear of misunderstanding), it is nothing but trickery. However, if people have empathy for this trickery, they will tend to it in order to maintain it. Meanwhile, nature simply tends towards chaos in order to annihilate any and all artifice. Plants and trees grow, dead leaves pile up and stones become covered in moss. In order to control this situation, humans clean. The end result of this cycle is a garden.

As original as this checkered garden is the east garden, said to represent the Big Dipper. It is made from the recycled round corner stones of the tosu hand-washing facilities used by Zen monks, from when the temple was dismantled and repaired. The raked gravel waves that spread out like ripples around the stones are like the aura emitted by stars, creating a very real image of the universe. The seven stones precisely simulate the array of constellations in the night sky. The heights of the cylindrical stones vary slightly, but apparently this was achieved by embedding stones of the same height at different depths in order to create a sense of subtlety and variation.

The pruning of the satsuki azaleas in the west garden is also unusual. A plant that grows organically has been pruned into an unnatural and extreme rectangle. Just as the square stones constrain the growing moss, this too is a symbolic form of artifice in which the gardener's shears forcefully constrain plants that are developing into an organic form into an artificial one. In the spring, satsuki flowers bloom from these square, geometric forms, as if overflowing. It is a beautiful garden, but somehow also funny.

The garden known as Hashintei, at Komyoin, a subordinate temple of Tofukuji, is also interesting. Created concurrently with the honbo garden (surrounding the hojo), it is a delightful garden that makes you feel as if you are floating in a universe of stones. According to the classic gardening text, Sakuteiki, said to have been written in the Heian period (794-1185), the first important thing to do with stones is to make them stand up. Rather than laying them down, one must stand them up. When a stone stands alone on the ground of a garden, it indeed imparts a mysterious presence and life force to its surroundings. In this garden, there are 75 stones. They stand tall, clamoring together in silence.

Mirei Shigemori's former residence in Kyoto’s Sakyo Ward is now the "Mirei Shigemori Garden Museum". The museum's garden was created in 1970, when Shigemori was 74 years old. I was told that the garden’s viewpoint was in the center of the guest room, where a hibachi was located, and certainly the view of the garden stones appears well balanced from here. This stone garden is thought to represent the ideals of the world such as the island of Horai where the Eight immortals live, ships sailing on the sea and the Three Buddhas. These bristling stands of stones certainly have the power to inspire such visions.

2021.3.1