Many visitors to Japan have probably heard the term “tea ceremony” at some point, but have you ever heard of the Japanese art of 盆石, bonseki? Despite their differences, these two cultural practices have been around since the earliest formation of Japan, have strong ties to Zen Buddhism, and were revolutionized by Sen-no-Rikyu. Today, let’s learn about what bonseki is, why it is a valuable window into Japanese artistic culture, and how it’s connected to Kumamoto!
What is Bonseki?
盆石, bonseki, literally meaning tray rocks, has a history that goes back to the 7th century, which is when Japan as we know it began to form. Back then, there were no cameras, so if you wanted to describe what a landscape looked like, you’d have to find another medium. While this might seem a little whimsical, silly, and approximate, there are records of people creating bonseki scenes to use as a reference when constructing Japanese gardens (they meant business). Although the rules about rock sizes and such came later, the items and tools used have remained largely the same, i.e., rocks ranging from pebbles to sand, spoons, feathers, sieves, chopsticks, etc. Can you imagine traveling to Mt. Fuji and then having to recreate it for your lord with rocks and sand?
Although bonseki may have served a utilitarian role with artistic aspects, over time, cultural motifs and techniques developed, and it began to take shape as a burgeoning art form. However, it wouldn’t be until the 14th century that the aesthetics of bonseki would be codified by Zen Buddhist monks. Besides the obvious overlap with rock gardens and bonseki, bonseki embodies many Zen principles. For one, the tools are not precise. According to the master I spoke with, an important part of bonseki is accepting and working around these “natural” and uncontrollable aspects. Nature has patterns, but not any that are easily recognizable or replicable. So, when you use the little rake on the stones or the feather on the sand, the point is not to put things in a specific place but to imitate natural forces like wind and rain to imitate nature.
If you have ever seen Tibet’s sand mandalas, you may also note that the transient nature of bonseki is in line with Buddhist principles. Monks in Tibet train for years to learn how to make these magnificent mandalas out of sand, but once completed, the monks blow them away. Bonseki scenes, too, are notoriously hard to preserve, as a breeze could be enough to move the sand and distort the image. Even in the short term, there are some bonseki scenes that craftsmen change to represent the four seasons. In the bonseki class I took, we started by doing Mt. Fuji reflected in a pond as it appears in spring, then we shifted things to represent summer, then fall, and finally winter. In this way, bonseki construction is both meditative in practice and instructive in Zen philosophy.
My Bonseki Experience
The other day, I had the chance to try bonseki for myself as research for an upcoming interpretation on the topic. I know, I have the coolest job ever.
I found the process fascinating because things are constantly added but never removed. The mountain has more snow in spring, so when you shift to summer, you can make clouds using the sand you take away from the mountain. Then, in the fall, one motif is the elongation of the mountain silhouette, so the clouds are regrouped into the mountain. However, it was easy to get lost in the weeds of realism, and so the master . Some people drew birds instead of clouds. Looking back, I could have made ripples on the pond. I learned how to draw in school by trying to depict shadows, etc., realistically, but bonseki encourages you to depict how the scene makes you feel and what you associate the reality with.
Another point that caught my attention was the difference in how I see the seasons. In my defense, I’m from East Texas, so I am not familiar with mountains. In my mind, summer has thick puffy clouds, fall has thin clouds, and winter often has clear skies. When I lived in Minnesota, there were a lot of snowy days, but the coldest days were in January when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. However, during the experience, we only made clouds in summer and winter. We also didn’t add the moon until winter; perhaps because the moon alone in the sky is a symbol of loneliness? As you can tell, I was a little lost about the aesthetics, but my coworker did an amazing job that I completely understood.
The still water, the stalwart mountain that stands against the dark, endless skies, and the new moon that makes you wonder if spring will ever come? Oh my gosh. Chills. It reminded me of the Mulan quote in which the Emperor is threatened and says, “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it.” This perfectly encapsulated winter to me, but the master came over and made the mountain much bigger, added clouds, added birds. He did a beautiful job, but it didn’t strike the same. In that moment, I really understood the magic of this art form in my own way. My coworker’s piece could never be remade in the same way, and the picture truly does not do it justice. But it will live on in my head forever as a moment and a piece of art that only ever existed within it.
The Kumamoto Connection
Bonseki first came to prominence when the Ashikaga Shogunate pushed bonseki into aristocratic circles in the 15th century. (rare Ashikaga Shogunate W). However, it became a cultural treasure with the cultural movement ushered in by Sen-no-Rikyu. If you know tea ceremony, you know Sen-no-Rikyu. Prior to Sen-no-Rikyu, tea houses were grand and extravagant. Think Kyoto’s famous Golden Pavilion, Kinkakuji Temple. Most tea ceremony participants were rich nobles who enjoyed every opportunity to flex their wealth and status. Sen-no-Rikyu, however, flipped the concept on its head with the wabi-sabi aesthetic.
Wabi-sabi is a combination of two related concepts, 侘 wabi and 寂 sabi. Sabi is the more simple of the two as it refers to a rustic patina or elegant simplicity. If you have ever seen the ware used for tea ceremony, I think you understand it better than I can describe. The bowls and cups are not flashy; instead, they are usually simple, antique-looking, and always seem like they have seen better days. 侘, on the other hand, is a taste for the simple, an enjoyment of a quiet life, a recognition and acceptance of impermanence and imperfection. In Japanese aesthetics, imperfection is not exemplified by mistakes, but by nature; in the same way that the Grand Canyon is majestic for its bends and idiosyncrasies, Sen-no-Rikyu appreciated the unique aspects of wabi, perfect in their imperfection, a reminder of intransigence. This can be seen in Kyoto’s Ginkakuji, which is meant to be covered in silver as an homage to the designer’s grandfather, the Kinkakuji architect. It remains in the unfinished form it was at when the designer passed to exemplify the beauty of simplicity and impermanence. Through his contributions to tea ceremony, Sen-no-Rikyu taught people to appreciate every tea ceremony as a once-in-a-lifetime event; even if you sat at the same table drinking the same tea with the same people, no two events in life are ever the same.
Regardless of its similarities with tea ceremony, Sen-no-Rikyu practiced bonseki and introduced it to his pupils. One of whom, Hosokawa Tadaoki, the first head of the Hosokawa clan to rule the Kumamoto domain, took a special interest and developed new techniques and scenes beyond what anyone else had accomplished up to that point. This led Rikyu to acknowledge his mastery, and the Hosokawa Sansai (Hosokawa Tadaoki’s tea master name) bonseki school was established.
The Hosokawa clan would enjoy a long tenure in Kumamoto domain that saw further expansion on Kumamoto Castle and the construction of Suizenji Jojuen, the traditional stroll garden founded by Tadaoki’s son Tadatoshi for the practice of tea ceremony, bonseki, and other high arts.
In the Modern Era
Unfortunately, bonseki and other traditional art forms were discouraged after the Meiji Restoration. This led many treasured traditions to be abandoned in the pursuit of modernity and left bonseki in relative obscurity. However, thankfully, practitioners did not abandon the art and have preserved the Hosokawa school and its techniques. Thanks to renewed interest in Japanese tradition, bonseki is making a comeback and can occasionally be seen in traditional settings. However, if you would like to learn more or try bonseki for yourself, come down to its home here in Kumamoto! There is a place right around the corner from Suizenji Jojuen where I’m sure they would be happy to share their art and its rich culture with you. Check it out here (information and classes are conducted in Japanese):
