Friday, March 02, 2018

Questions

Chanoyu, the tea ceremony, is heavily depended on dogu. The word dogu curiously translates into instruments of the way, or roughly into the tools and utensils necessary to prepare matcha. Of course, it is a difficult task to recreate an entire culture in a foreign land. So sometimes, dogu from foreign lands are used. How to decide if they are appropriate is always a question worth considering.

I attend chanoyu lessons on Tuesdays and I anticipate the unique objects of wood, pottery, or metal I will see and for that matter, use. It can be a chawan (tea bowl), a mizushashi (cold water container), a chashaku (tea scoop), a tana (tea stand), or a natsume (matcha container).

Or it can be a scroll, a kogo (incense container), or ephemeral things such as chabana (flower arrangements) or sumi (charcoal). Many times, it is all of the above. In fact, when preparing to make matcha for guests it is expected that the dogu will be distinctive. The appreciation of the dogu is one of the joys of the practice.

And to add a question, I often wonder how do we in the west with limited means, availability, and knowledge uphold this tradition of appropriate utensils? It is difficult but not for the want of trying, something I know from personal experience.

My approach to this dilemma has been to create objects for chanoyu out of metal and wood. The designing and building helps to control my frustration with not having access to dogu. Each object made and used provides a further understanding of what makes the craft traditions of Japan exceptional.

Think of the subtleties that the tenth or twelfth or fourteenth generation of craft families infuse into the utilitarian objects they make. Each detail on every chawan, chashaku, or natsume, just to name a few, is a conversation piece.

An area of scorched glaze brings visions of ancient wood fired step kilns belching with flames. A swirl of grain on a wide unfinished wooden board envisions a deep forest of monumental trees. A wrought iron kettle’s patina conjures up the many hands that have ladled steaming water over its hot surface. These images make a simple bowl of tea worthy of a lifetime of study.

Of course, we have to be aware of substituting avarice for utility. Last year I was reminded of this at a fellow association’s gathering. The quality of the dogu, even though described only in Japanese, could not be ignored. I could feel several of the seven deadly sins creeping into my psyche.

It reminded me of one of Rikyu’s One Hundred Verses: Keep tea rustic and through your heart, give warm hospitality; always simply put together utensils you already have. Good advice to follow from the founder of wabi tea.

So, after pondering the above, I conclude that I have not asked the correct questions. The only question that matters is when is the time to start studying chanoyu, and that time is now!

February 2018