Seasonal Knowledge and the Traditional Arts
In her opinion, Mrs Iwaii gained her exceptional seasonal skills through working for many years alongside her mother-in-law in the family’s kimono shop. Patterns, colours and the materials kimono are made of have to be in tune with the seasons, but also the particular occasion and the age (and the gender) of the wearer. In her extensive research about Japanese-style dress, Liza Dalby, an American anthropologist-cumgeisha, repeatedly discusses the complex relationship between kimono and the awareness of the seasons (Dalby 2001 [1993]). Seasonal kimono codes change almost monthly with the appearance of new plants and flowers, as the following list of appropriate motifs for each season illustrates: January–February: pine, plum, bamboo; March–April: cherry, butterflies, wisteria; May–June: iris, willow, birds; July–August: plovers, waves, shells; September–October: plumed grass, maple, chrysanthemum; November– December: bamboo in snow, pine needles and gingko (Dalby 2001 [1993]: 237). In post-war Japan, kimono ceased to be worn on an everyday basis, and this kind of knowledge has, therefore, become the prerequisite of professionals. The large body of advice literature as well as specialized magazines that target women who want to wear kimono illustrates this shift.
The fact that Mrs Iwaii is a keen student of the Japanese tea ceremony also contributes to her seasonal proficiency. The Iwaiis’ house was the only one in my sample with a special room dedicated to the formal Japanese tea ceremony. In this ceremony seasonality based on performative knowledge (Moeran and Skov 1997: 199) is, firstly, demonstrated by the choice of the decorations placed in the decorative alcove, the focal point of the otherwise sparse Japanese-style room. Mrs Iwaii’s tearoom was immaculate, and in June 2003 an ink painting of a blooming pomegranate tree decorated the scroll, while a lone iris was placed in a vase. A second way in which students of the tea ceremony can show seasonal proficiency is through their selection of traditional Japanese sweets served to guests. In her study of traditional sweet shops, the Japanese folklorist Oshima summarizes the yearly cycle of seasonal sweet ingredients as follows: January: narcissi or daffodils; February: plums; March: peaches; April: cherry blossoms; May: azaleas; September: balloon flowers or bell flowers; October: Japanese bush flowers; November: chrysanthemums (Oshima 2000: 71).
It should be clear by now that the production and selection of appropriate representations linked with seasonal change requires knowledge of and practical skills grounded in traditional Japanese aesthetics. Within this context it is interesting to refer to Ackermann’s (1997) argument that the concept of the four seasons is used to visualize universal principles of cosmic order that should be obeyed in order to avoid calamities. Throughout Japanese history the ruling elite has drawn on these natural representations linked with correct social behaviour in order to establish their authority. Ackermann calls this phenomenon ‘authoritarianism behind the veil of aesthetics’ and singles out masters of the tea ceremony as well as presidents of large companies as those who continue to successfully exploit this ideology (1997: 40–42). Indeed, in contemporary Japan seasonality is also employed to create social distinctions. Indeed more than half the married women in my sample, all over 45 years old, had at some point in their lives practised the tea ceremony or another of the traditional Japanese arts such as calligraphy or flower arrangement.
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Inge Daniels