In Praise of Shadows

In Praise of Shadows, by novelist Jun'ichirō Tanizaki, was first published in Japan in 1933.

I enjoyed this meandering essay on Japanese aesthetics, on light and shadow, looking at architecture, electric lighting, tableware, food, theatre and more. Evocative descriptions and resonating ideas from another time and place.

Some favourite passages:

‘Such is our way of thinking - we find beauty not in the thing itself but in the pattern of shadows, the light and the darkness, that one thing against another creates.’

‘And so it has come to be that the beauty of a Japanese room depends on a variation of shadows, heavy shadows against light shadows - it has nothing else. Westerners are amazed at the simplicity of Japanese rooms, perceiving in them no more than ashes walls bereft of ornament. Their reaction is understandable, but it betrays a failure to comprehend the mystery of shadows.’

‘We do not dislike everything that shines, but we do prefer a pensive luster to a shallow brilliance, a murky light that, whether in a stone or an artifact, bespeaks a sheen of antiquity.
Of course this “sheen of antiquity” of which we hear so much is in fact the glow of grime….Westerners attempt to expose every speck of grime and eradicate it, while we Orientals carefully preserve and even idealize it. Yet for better or for worse we do love things that bear the marks of grime, soot, and weather, and we love the colors and the sheen that call to mind the past that made them. Living in these old houses among these old objects is in some mysterious way a source of peace and repose.’

‘The Westerner uses silver and steel and nickel tableware, and polishes it to a fine brilliance, but we object to the practice. While we do sometimes indeed use silver for teakettles, decanters, or sake cups, we prefer not to polish it. On the contrary, we begin to enjoy it only when the luster has worn off, when it has begun to take on a dark, smoky patina.’

‘So benumbed are we nowadays by electric lights that we have become utterly insensitive to the evils of excessive illumination.’

Read Maria Popova’s thoughtful exploration of the essay in this edition of Brain Pickings

The ‘In-Between’

I recently read: ‘Life Is What Happens In-Between: For More and More Americans, Stability Exists Mostly in Memory’ by essayist and cartoonist Tim Kreider. So much resonates and it is simply a great read. Here are some highlights.

“My friend Robin grew up in an army family, and learned early on that she wasn’t going to live anywhere or know anyone for very long, that houses and schools and best friends were strictly provisional, temporary. Kids like me, with stabler lives, grew up secure in the delusion, fuzzy and comforting as a favorite blanket, that our homes and friends were givens, fixed forever. But, as Robin points out, transience wasn’t just a peculiarity of her own upbringing; it turns out to be the reality of life, for all of us. Everything is contingent, ephemeral; the flimsy little Potemkin villages of permanence and security we rig up for ourselves — real estate, possessions, tenure and retirement plans, circles of friends and long-term relationships — are easily demolished by layoffs, divorce, accidents, and diagnoses, or by non-metaphorical floods and hurricanes.”

“Even those periods we look back on as idylls of stability exist mostly in retrospect: when we’re in the middle of them they feel as blind and confusing as any other interval of our lives. “

“…my friend Harold and I were driving south on I-95 over the Susquehanna River, on our way down to Baltimore. Harold was in between, too, though he had not enough going on in his life, whereas I had too much. It had been a misty morning, but most of the moisture had burned off by then except for a dense fog bank that followed the contours of the river. As we drove out onto the bridge it was like flying into a cloud; we were completely enveloped in dewy gray blankness. Out in the middle of the bridge we could see neither the bank behind us nor the one ahead, only the bridge itself, a road stretched across nothingness, vanishing into obscurity in both directions. Up ahead of us a tattered banner of clarity was streaming out from the bridge’s edge where the mist split and furled around it. The Replacements were playing — “Alex Chilton,” which might, after all, be my favorite song in the world. We couldn’t see where we’d come from or where we were going but I was in the car with my best friend listening to a song we both loved and, inside that moment, everything was all right.“

Thanks to writer and artist Austin Kleon for this - check out his website and subscribe to his newsletter, always good stuff there.

Free play

I recently read 'Free Play - Improvisation in Life and Art' by Stephen Matchnanovitch, an improvisational violinist, author, computer artist and educator. Published in 1991, it's not a new book, but the right book at the right time for me. Much resonated. Two of many sections highlighted: "One of the many catch-22s in the business of creativity is that you can't express inspiration without skill, but if you are too wrapped up in the professionalism of skill you obviate the surrender to accident that is essential to inspiration. You begin to emphasize product at the expense of process." And on patience with one's work and process: "If we operate with a belief in long sweeps of time, we build cathedrals; if we operate from fiscal quarter to fiscal quarter, we build ugly shopping malls."