How Can A New Ryoanji Be Constructed?

|Beside the lake, beneath the trees, |Beside a forsaken hospital, over a glass-strewn street, |

When I first look at Hiroshige’s Plum Garden at Kameido, 1857, I see a grove of flowering trees, with a fence in the background to keep visitors off the lush green grass. The main focal point of this photo is the large tree branch in the foreground. This branch has several offshoots from it with dainty white flowers. Looking past this I see several other trees in the background, all with flowers blooming on them, but none with leaves. In the farthest background, there is a metal fence that is separating several people from the garden of trees. There is also a partial shack in the background on the far most right-hand side of the picture. I also see what appears to be the back of a sign, mostly hidden, in the upper left corner of the foreground. It appears to be sunset during the painting, with the horizon lighter and the higher sky a red color. There are several blocks of oriental writings, a red rectangle in the lower left corner over the body of the tree branch; then two in the top right corner in the sky, one green square and

facilities, residential complexes, office towers, department stores, and high-tech structures are some excellent examples of Japanese Architecture (hkuhist2.hku.hk).

The garden is the vehicle in which the narrator reveals her reluctance to leave behind the imaginary world of childhood and see the realities of the adult world. The evidence supporting this interpretation is the imagery of hiding. The narrator uses the garden to hide from reality and the

Like walking through a barren street in a crumbling ghost town, isolation can feel melancholy and hopeless. Yet, all it takes is an ordinary flower bud amidst the desolation to show life really can exist anywhere. This is similar to Stephen’s journey in The Samurai’s Garden. This novel is about an ailing Chinese boy named Stephen who goes to a Japanese village during a time of war between Japan and China to recover from his disease. By forming bonds with several locals and listening to their stories, he quickly matures into a young adult. Throughout the novel, Gail Tsukiyama shows how disease forces Stephen into isolation; however, Matsu’s garden and Sachi lead him out of solitude.

The gardens of both Matsu and Sachi symbolize them, and this gives the reader an insight on each of their respective personalities. Matsu’s garden turns more riveting and reveals more secrets as one goes deeper through it while Sachi’s garden illustrates that beauty can be in all forms. These descriptions of the garden mirror their owners and give more information about them. One example is that in the later portion of The Samurai Garden, it is revealed that Matsu was one of the primary founders of Yamaguchi. Like his garden, Matsu’s tale only becomes more

When Stephen visits Sachi’s garden for the first time, he finds that “There were no trees, flowers, or water, only a landscape made of sand, stones, rocks, and some pale green moss . . . Sachi had created mountains from arranged rocks, surrounded by gravel and elongated stones flowing down like a rocky stream leading to a lake or the sea” (40). Unlike Matsu’s very green and tree-filled garden, Sachi’s garden is very dry, and simplistic, yet has a peculiarly admirable feeling when one is able to see the subtle details. Although it is very different from a typical garden, its components harmonize to create a new and beautiful pattern. At first, Stephen is overwhelmed by the unfamiliar concept of a dry landscape, but after taking it in, he says it is beautiful. This garden is has a fresh taste to it, leaving Stephen to decide the effect it has on him, whether it be positive or negative. When creating the garden, Sachi insisted that it should not have flowers. However, eventually, “between two large rocks grew a neat cluster of blooming flowers, startlingly beautiful, a splash of blue-purple . . . thriving among the muted, gray stones.” The way that the bright colors contrast against the dull gray shows that something unfamiliar and novel can appear beautiful in its own way. Since Sachi’s garden is filled with pebbles and stones, the dainty flowers stand out comely, and to

"The garden is a world filled with secrets. Slowly, I see more each day. The black pines twist and turn to form graceful shapes, while the moss is a carpet of green that invites you to sit by the pond. Even the stone lanterns, which dimly light the way at night, allow you to see only so much. Matsu 's garden whispers at you, never shouts; it leads you down a path hoping for more, as if everything is seen, yet hidden. There 's a quiet beauty here I only hope I can capture on canvas." - Stephen at the beach house planning to paint Matsu 's garden, page 31

Secrets fill the garden. In Gail Tsukiyama’s novel “The Samurai’s Garden”, she uses metaphors to show the audience the garden and its’ curator in a mysterious light. Tsukiyama’s character Stephen gazes upon Matsu’s garden with wonder and amazement. He compares it to another world, “The garden is a world filled with secrets… Matsu’s garden whispers at you, never shouts; it leads you down a path hoping for more, as if everything is seen, yet hidden” (Samurai 31). Tsukiyama creates another world within the fences of the garden. She integrates the secrets of its’ caretaker into the aura of the garden. The metaphor to another world impacts the reader by allowing the reader to see the mystery and beauty that shrouds it. The cloak of beauty shows

The unusual thing about the garden is where it’s located, because it’s located on top of a building surrounded by a city.

The Japanese garden at the Huntington Library created a beloved feeling. The moon bridge, the koi-fill pond, and the Japanese house brought an iconic feature to the garden. The garden brings inspiration to the people with its unique landscape traditions, the craftsmanship, horticulture, and rituals. The Japanese house was an important element to the Japanese garden. The Japanese house has five rooms and

The role of gardens play a much more important role in Japan than here in the United States. This is due primarily to the fact the Japanese garden embodies native values, cultural beliefs and religious principles. Perhaps this is why there is no one prototype for the Japanese garden, just as there is no one native philosophy or aesthetic. In this way, similar to other forms of Japanese art, landscape design is constantly evolving due to exposure to outside influences, mainly Chinese, that effect not only changing aesthetic tastes but also the values of patrons. In observing a Japanese garden, it is important to remember that the line between the garden and the landscape that surrounds it is not separate. Instead,

One of my favorite pieces by Donald Higby can be found at http://americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/online/higby/ is called Green Terrace Canyon, 1975. This earthenware bowl was made using glazed earthenware and raku-fired. Higby’s creations generate landscape imaginings that is boldly displayed on the interior and the outside of the object, therefor producing the impression of depth. The natural rocks that are incorporated into the bowl are placed in such a way that it forms landscapes of mountains, rivers and other amazing sights that can be found in the world.

When it emerged in the sixties among the crush of several other art movements (Pop Art, Minimalism, among others) Land Art came to be an anti-gallery artistic offshoot that straddled the domain between architecture and sculpture. It had no manifestos nor schools nor leaders and it was not quite a movement; the artists who were involved with it were also involved in other types of arts. Land art was labelled as modern ‘sculpture’ but its versatility and introduction of new concepts and visual materials made it difficult to ascribe it to one field or term. Later on, the term “Earth Works,” coined by Robert Smithson came to use but Earth Works only refers to works that use earth while Land Art is an all-encompassing umbrella that includes works

Both The Narrow Road to Deep North and Japanese No Drama use poetry to depict how Japaneses life and art closely intertwined. In Japan life is portrayed as a work of art and their elegance of communication rooted in poetry. Japanese poets composes poetry related to their culture, religion, traditions, and in appreciation of nature. Basho wrote a soulful poem when he visited Kashima Shrine, “ In the day of the ancient gods/ A mere seedling/ This pine must have been. Let us wipe/ in solemn patience/ Dew-drops gathered/ On the sacred stone. Also, he has a strong passion and feelings for the outside world which enables him to write with exquisiteness. His poetry flows each time he sees a full moon or a delicate flower and he finds a deeper meaning in them asserting, “ It is only a