UEDA, JAPAN

Koizumi Kotaro

TEXT: KYOKO ISHIZAKA TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA ILLUSTRATION: HIROKO TAKAHAMA

Long, long ago, there was a small Buddhist temple on top of Mt. Tetsuji in the south of Nishishioda. There lived a chief monk and a young monk. One night, a beautiful girl came to see the young monk and her visit continued night after night. They became close to each other; but she never told him where she came from. Finding it strange, he consulted his senior monk. The old monk suggested that he pin a needle with thread to the girl’s kimono. After she left the temple, the young monk followed the thread and it led him to Kurabuchi’s cave. He looked in and found a big snake, who seemed to be in pain, giving birth to a human baby. Terrified, he ran away. The snake was saddened and embarrassed to be seen in its true form. After three days, she died of iron poison from the needle. She caused a great storm that swept her serpent body downstream until it broke into pieces. These were known as snake bone stones. The river became known as Sangawa or the birthing river. An old man from Junin found a baby floating by the swollen river. He prayed for the baby’s safety and it magically floated towards him. The baby had snake scales-like bruises on his side. He named the baby Kotaro and raised him with his wife. When the old man passed away, his wife moved with Kotaro to Koizumi. Then he came to be known as Koizumi Kotaro. He grew up doing nothing but eat and sleep. When he reached the age of 15, the old woman nagged him for the first time to help with housework. He volunteered to get firewood and off he went to Mt. Koizumi. By late afternoon, he had cleared the mountain of bush clovers, tied them tightly into two bundles and took them home. He proudly told his grandma that she would not need to worry about firewood for a while. Kotaro also warned her not to cut the rope but to pull the sticks one by one. Doubtful that Kotaro was really able to gather all the bush clovers in a day, she carelessly cut the rope that held the bundles. The twigs violently popped reaching the ceiling then all fell down crushing her.

The descendants of Kotaro are still in Koizumi and all the boys have snake scale-like bruises.

Deidarabotchi and a Widow

TEXT: KYOKO ISHIZAKA TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA ILLUSTRATION: HIROKO TAKAHAMA

This is a story from a long time ago. There was a giant called “Deidarabotchi” who was so huge that he could pierce the clouds. Deidarabotchi came from the west, carrying Mt. Ogami on his back and holding Mt. Megami in his arms. When he reached the border between Bessho and Aoki-mura, he put down Mt. Ogami from his back, roughly placed it there and gently put Mt. Megami next to it Then he left for the south.

Once upon a time, there was a poor woman in a rural village beyond one mountain north of Bessho. She lived alone and decided to cultivate a barren land at the border. One morning, she went to the barren land early and plowed the hard soil all day to sow buckwheat seeds. The following morning, she went there with seeds, but the soil had become hard like before. She was disappointed, but worked hard again to loosen the soil. The following day, she thought,“It should be all right today” and returned to the field but the soil had become hard again. This continued for 15 days. Any ordinary person would give up if such a situation continues, but she desperately wanted to work this land. So she visited a shrine of Fudo-san (Buddhist deity) of O-ne to worship day and night for 21 days. On the 21st night, Deidarabotchi appeared in her dream and told her, “The land you have been cultivating is my left footprint, so it is mine. But because you are a hard-working poor widow and you are kind and faithful, I will give it to you. But in return, when you harvest buckwheat, make sure to give me buckwheat noodles. This is a promise. If you break the promise, I will immediately turn your land hard again.” Believing that it was a blessing from Fudo-san, she plowed the land and sowed buckwheat seeds. In autumn, she abundantly harvested beautiful buckwheat. She made buckwheat noodles using flour from her first harvest and offered it to Deidarabotchi. Ever since then, her life became easier and easier.

INTRODUCTION OF PARTICIPANTS

YUKO ANTOKU (RINKO HIME)

By expressing the folktales through the workshop, I imagined that human beings are also a part of nature. As the satoyama landscapes increasingly disappear, bears and deer come to the fields cultivated by humans to look for food, creating dangerous situations for both. Paving the land with concrete stops the flow of water, degrades the soil, and causes the fields to become unproductive. When humans alter the circulation of nature, we will be affected. I became keenly aware of this. Convenience brings inconvenience in return.

YUKINO ISAWA

I played a role without dialogue, but I felt that I could share images with people without using words. What left a strong impression on me was going to Kurabuchi, doing a sound workshop, and taking a walk in the woods. We live in a digital world and we spend most of our time looking at smartphones and computers. I learned that it is very comforting to get away from the hustle and bustle and listen to the sounds of nature.

RYUNOSUKE EGUCHI

Everything about the workshops was fun. I was particularly impressed by the activity where we memorized the other person's pose and recreated it. It made me realize that even though I thought I was looking at people, I wasn't looking at them at all.

TOSHIE IMAI

At the workshop, when I became the snake that was seen by a monk bearing a child, I was able to experience complex emotions such as the embarrassment and shame, and the love for my child in my arms. I was also able to directly experience the passage of days and the changes in Deidarabotchi's state of mind. It was exciting to see how everyone's interpretation of each scene deepened, changed, and resonated. I was also impressed by how elements in nature such as soil, wood, and water, became one character and functioned as a kind of protagonist.

OTO KOBAYASHI

It was my first time acting in a play. I don't usually watch a theatre play so it was a discovery that there are so many different ways to express oneself and that people can move in such a charming and natural way. I also learned that if you don't know about a local area, there are many interesting things to discover.

RINA SAITO

Through the workshop, I discovered that even the smallest things in nature have great power. If we pay close attention to one tree in the large forest, we can observe the lumpy texture and the expressions of each leaf. I realized that a forest is not made up of the same trees, but rather of relationships of trees affecting each other.

WAKANA YUI

During the workshop, I learned how difficult it is to produce a voice consciously. I felt frustrated that I could not control the volume, direction, and texture of my voice as I wished. I became more aware than ever of other people's voices and the state of my body when I speak. I also enjoyed the activity about paying attention to the movements of others while they speak. I realized that I had been moving my body unconsciously.

KODAI NAGASHIMA

I had never done a stage play before, so I was very nervous and excited to see what it would be like. I enjoyed going through the entire process with other members who gathered for the workshop. The process began without discussing anything about a theatrical play. We wove the story together while talking about folktales. I have always loved nature. While working as a member of the "Deidarabotchi" team, I felt the magnitude and grandeur of nature. Of course, I cannot be Deidarabotchi, and I remain who I am. I felt that nature is big, loving, and rich.

ASAKO NAOI YUI MOTOSHIMA KYOKO ISHIZAKA

TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA

Setsu Hanasaki

From the symposium after the performance at Sai no Tsuno on August 9, 2021

First of all, we visited Mr. Inagaki’s house, which was like a mini-theatre of folktales, to listen to the storytelling of folktales. We also visited Kurafuchi (or Kuragafuchi), where Kotaro is said to have been born. It was just after the heavy rain that had caused so much damage in Atami, Shizuoka. The water level in Sangawa (San River) was high, and it was muddy all over. I felt like the nature of present-day Kurafuchi overlapped with the world of the story, and it was a very fresh experience for me partly because I had been having less opportunity for outing due to COVID-19. After we came back from the trip, we started working on the play and were connected with Filipino and Indonesian teams via Zoom. We had an online fellowship yesterday (Aug.8th) and the day of the performance has come today. It took about five days to actually create the play. There is no script for Koizumi Kotaro. We had some direction and practice, but we did not have a fixed script. It was still experimental how the young participants would align their own senses and languages with the world of the folktales. As most of

the participants worked in theatre for the first time, I wanted to respect how they feel about the world of the folktales through fieldworks before they actually create a play. Therefore, I focused on how they express their senses and how they live actively in the folktales.

SETSU HANASAKI is a theater practitioner who works as a facilitator, director, actress and teacher. She started her career in Black Tent Theater, one of the leading theater companies of the Japanese Underground Theater Movement. She has been facilitating a variety of projects and workshops not only in Japan but also in many Asian countries and beyond. Her works include: "Minamata ba Ikite (Living in Minamata)"(2006), a collaboration with Minamata Disease patients and multi-generational citizens of Minamata city, “Youth Drama Project in Aceh, Indonesia” (2006-09), a project on peace building. She has been facilitating and directing community theater projects in Setagaya Public Theater for 20 years, including “Kaijo, Kaigo wo Kangaeru (Thinking about Caring)” (2014-15) and "Kazoku wo Meguru Sasayakana Boken (A Small Adventure about Family (2019)" which was a collaboration with Necessary Stage, Singapore. She has been involved as facilitator and director in the Theater Project for Environmental Education in Cordillera, Philippines (2014-21). She teaches at Nihon University, Musashino Art University and Rikkyo University.

Riki Takeda

From the symposium after the performance at Sai no Tsuno on Aug. 9th, 2021

For Deidarabotchi and a Widow, we discussed how we will start a play from Mr. Inagaki’s storytelling. Then, Ms. Toshie Imai wrote a script that became the basis of composing our work. I coordinated and facilitated how the members created the theatre play. How can we retell a folktale through theater? Of course, since each of us lives differently, we would have different images toward the folktale which was told. So when we created a play, I focused on how our performance can contribute to the various images which the audiences might have rather than the performance itself. In that sense, I was very detailed in directing the performance. But the message I delivered was very simple: “to weave a story with care” and “to have an image”. When we tell something or casually move our bodies, what would these movements give to the audiences and what kind of images would these provoke in them? We tried to think of such “devices” together.

Folk performing dance in Furuya, Kutsuki Photo by KOJI TSUJIMURA

RIKI TAKEDA is a theater director and folk arts archiver. He joined chelfitsch Theater Company as an actor and performed extensively in Europe and the US with the company. After the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, he began his career as a director. Takeda invites the audience to consider our contemporary time in a playful manner. Everyday matters form the material for his works such as: reprimands from a police officer, the Japanese street food takoyaki (octopus balls), and elementary education textbooks. He is also involved in the revival and preservation of folk art in depopulated rural villages in Japan. Recent activities include creating and presenting work in Metro Manila and Shanghai, as well as running an art space in Wuhan, China. He was a Yokohama Arts Foundation Creative Children Fellow in 2016 and 2017, and a Japan Foundation Asia Center Fellow in 2019.

FOR INSTANCE

TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA

Yuichi Inagaki

For instance, when I try to narrate a story of Deidarabotchi and a Widow, I cannot do so without empathy for the woman and respect for farmers who turned her into a legend.

Due to poverty, she continued cultivating a piece of barren land, just the size of one field, with simple honesty. Her patience and sweat are surely the manifestation of the fundamental longing for happiness which farmers have. She wondered why the soil returned hard again and again, but she showed no sign of leaving and stayed on. Because she never thought of having awe of the invisible, she repeatedly cultivated the land. This is different from a simple desire for a piece of buckwheat field. Farmers want to own a piece of land, however little, to harvest in reconciliation with nature. It is their instinctive hope. In the folktale, there is a phrase “Any ordinary person would have given up, but the woman did not.” This shows that farmers totally empathize with her and wanted to cheer her up.

For instance, I like the reason why Deidarabotchi wanted to “give” his land to her. The way he talked to her was never arrogant. He says, “You are a poor widow, and are hardworking and patient. You are also faithful. So I will give that land to you.” He uses simple language and talks in a simple manner just like how hardworking farmers usually talk. His feeling was born out of close interaction between human beings and nature before they created gods as religions. At the end of his reason, he lightly adds her faithfulness with a little shyness (Fudo, a Buddhist deity, and Deidarabotchi are a double exposure of the forces of nature). It is heartwarming to us as it overlaps with the mild climate of Japan. Here, we can see how farmers and nature used to interact when they simply and honestly had awe of nature. “For instance, for instance...” I can continue giving more examples just for this story. Folktales are synthesized forms of such examples and symbolic literature which is different from fantasy in quality. I have long been fascinated by them and now my hope is to appreciate them as deeply as possible.

YUICHI INAGAKI

Mr. Inagaki is the Director of Shiodadaira Research Institute of Folktales. He is a book-reading advisor and lecturer on picture books. Born in Ueda-shi, Nagano Prefecture in 1932, he worked as a Japanese teacher in Nagano Prefecture after graduating from the Faculty of Education at Shinshu University. Following his retirement, he started working earnestly on picture books and folktales. He is a member of Nihon Minwa no Kai (Japan Folktale Association), Japan Storytelling Network, Shiodadaira Institute of Folktales, and the Ueda Library Club.

WHAT I FELT: LISTENING TO YUICHI INAGAKI’S RETELLING OF THE FOLKTALE

From the participants' answers to the questionnaires

TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA

I caught a glimpse of how people interacted with nature when the folktales were created. I felt the majesty of nature, including its horror, brutality, kindness, and warmth. I can no longer live in Ueda, a place filled with nature, but it was strange to think that this place once looked like it did in the folktales. I was amazed that some of the place names and things mentioned in the folktales still exist. (Rina Saito)

I felt familiar with the place names and the areas mentioned. Some of the characters' actions and emotions were difficult for those of us living in the modern world to relate to. However, it was interesting to realize the differences from today. It was also interesting to see how differently I, the other participants, and the facilitator imagined the scenes in the story. (Wakana Yui)

I have lived in Nagano for more than ten years, but I have never had a chance to listen to local folktales, so it was very refreshing.The way Mr. Inagaki narrated it made the folktales feel very real.

Especially in the scene where Kotaro Koizumi's grandmother died, I felt as if she was buried alive right in front of me and her life came to an end in the blink of an eye.

I could feel the fragility of life. (Ryunosuke Eguchi)

It gave me a nostalgic impression that I may or may not have vaguely heard somewhere before. No matter what time of the year it is, there is not much difference in the way people think. That's why folktales are good reading material that allows us to feel like life-size people. It would be a shame not to know them because they are interesting even if you just read them. (Oto Kobayashi)

In the course of the workshop, the first thing I discovered in folktales was the diversity of folktales. There is a sense of valuing the individuality of people - that it is okay to live a leisurely life, and that it is okay to be useless. There is also the importance of taking time in today's fast-paced world. (Yuko Antoku)

When I first heard the folk tales of Ueda, I felt the simplicity and nostalgia of the stories and the sincerity with which the storytellers dealt with them. In the process of the workshop, I realized that folktales are not necessarily just

fiction for children. They are not hard-and-fast “lessons” but mere communication of "what happened”. It can be interpreted in many ways, depending on the period and the listener's position. That's what I felt. (Toshie Imai)

When I first heard the Ueda folktale, I could easily accept it even though it was a story that could never happen in reality. There are many references to nature in the stories and I felt that people had a close relationship with nature since ancient times. Participating in this workshop allowed me to research the folktales of my hometown, Saku, and reminded me of the folktales I learned in elementary school. I learned that there are many folktales in Nagano Prefecture. (Yukino Isawa)

HOW EACH OF US FEELS

Wakana Yui

TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA

When we first listened to the folktale “Koizumi Kotaro”, we were left with a bad aftertaste and taken aback. Later, a storyteller, Mr. Inagaki told us an interpretation that the old lady might have been happy when she died, feeling how much Kotaro had grown up. I thought “I see…”, and was convinced by his interpretation, but yet it was difficult for me to empathize with it. Mr. Inagaki explained that he relates facts in a story in a detached manner, and lets the listeners make their own interpretation. As he told us, the story is unintrusive; nor does it force the listeners to empathize. However, it also made me feel abandoned as I am used to modern easy-to-understand stories. After that, we, the participants, shared with each other how we felt about the folktale by talking and reproducing part of it with our own bodies. While sharing the same space and listening to the same story, there were many commonalities in what we felt. At the same time, what left the strongest impression on us and the sceneries we reflected in our minds were more diverse than I had expected. Other participants vividly remembered a sound or scent they felt from the story, which I did not even

pay attention to. By listening to their memories, and visualizing images which were different from those I had in my mind at first, I was able to find new aspects of the folktale and develop new images, and the story gradually penetrated me. “Koizumi Kotaro”, which I acted in, had no script although the general flow and direction were decided. It was performed almost impromptu. It allowed us to perform freely and gave us enough room to make our own interpretations. This helped me to see how I and others had interpreted the story in a new light.

As we influenced each other with our expression and communicated our

feelings, it was gradually formed into one artwork. In addition, when we exchanged our thoughts and feelings, my attention was drawn to striking parts only. However, by transforming them into a play, I felt like I was able to face what I used to ignore. By discussing with other participants, I was able to immerse myself deeper in the world of the folktale. In the final on-line presentation, I watched the works of Indonesian and Filipino teams. Not only did I enjoy the folktales from their places, I also found it interesting how their senses were incorporated in their ways of expression and direction. In the Filipino play, the phrase “Let’s go and ask the elder” was used as a matter of course. In the Indonesian play, music was used in various scenes. They were fresh to me although they

might have been so natural for the participants from these countries. On the other hand, I found many commonalities in how we perceive nature and human relationship, and became aware of universality in human beings.

Each step left me with a remarkable impression, and it is not easy to organize them in writing. However, throughout the process of listening, dialogue, expression and sharing, I repeatedly reflected on how each of us feels: the senses of people who had passed down the folktales, those who joined this workshop, and those who live across the sea. Some were similar to mine, and some were not, and both of them surprised me many times. Being influenced by nature and society around us,

we live in the world which we perceive in our own way. Through this workshop, I slowly gained new insight by trying to understand others’ senses which I did not empathize with at first. We all have different senses, yet we created

a new form of artwork by influencing each other. We became aware that there were many commonalities in things which appeared to be totally different. This workshop gave me an opportunity to think about how I and others feel. I felt comfortable in the environment where we enjoyed the differences and said “Both are interesting” instead of judging which one was right. I truly hope that such an atmosphere would extend beyond this workshop.

MY EXPERIENCE AS AN NGO INTERN IN THE PHILIPPINES AND AS PARTICIPANT AT A THEATER WORKSHOP IN UEDA

Yukino Isawa

TRANSLATED BY AKARI NAKAMURA

I would like to write about how I felt when I joined the theatre workshop in Ueda, Japan. My reflection is from both global and local points of view and is based on my experience as an intern of Cordillera Green Network (CGN), an environmental NGO based in Baguio City, the Philippines.

The Cordillera Region, where I stayed as an intern, is located in North Luzon in the Philippines. It is rich in nature with magnificent mountains and beautiful rice terraces. This is where indigenous mountain tribes called Igorots have been living since ancient times in harmony with great nature, nurturing their unique culture. However, the wave of capitalism has crept up their communities in the mountains compelling them to shift to a new way of life to earn cash. They started deforesting their land to create vegetable fields to grow cash crops. In order to prevent environmental destruction and preserve diversity in the forest, CGN has been training farmers to grow coffee through agroforestry.

During my internship, I reflected on “economic development” and “nature”. In Baguio City, where CGN is located, I felt the rapid advancement of economic development in my bones. During my 3.5-month stay there, Uniqlo and H&M opened in a big shopping mall, and many new hotels were under construction. I saw this happen in Baguio, a city surrounded by beautiful nature, during my internship, and it made me think what sustainable society really meant. With this experience, I was impressed to see that “nature” was featured in folktales from all three countries when I joined this theatre project and saw the online presentations by teams from three countries. Respect for, appreciation for and awe of nature are common to all human beings in spite of the differences in our languages and cultures. I think that folktales have proven the inseparable relation between our lives and nature since ancient times.

On the other hand, in the plays by the Filipino and Indonesian teams, there were scenes in which social issues associated with economic development were highlighted. In “Ambakbak”, performed by the Filipino team, the spring was landfilled and turned into a vegetable field. In “Kite”, the play by the Indonesian team, people were no longer able to talk with the white elephant from the forest because of the road construction. In Japan, while our lives have become more convenient due to increasing digitalization, we have less interaction with nature and have even become disconnected from nature. In the Japanese team, we also talked about a lack of folktale-storytellers and young people who are interested in folktales. I felt that economic development was the common factor that had influenced these three countries.

From a global point of view, while the economy connects the world and promotes standardization, social issues such as environmental destruction have become a global issue shared by all human beings. From a local point of view, each community has its unique culture and nature. Folktales are a living part of every culture. How can we succeed and preserve nature and our local culture/ tradition? When we face this issue and achieve this task, we will be able to realize a sustainable society where diversity is celebrated.

THE WATER IN KURAGAFUCHI OVERFLOWS

Thinking about the power of nature and the human condition through the expression of folktales

SETSU HANASAKI TRANSLATED BY MAYUMI HIRANO

ENCOUNTER WITH MR. INAGAKI

I cannot talk about the theater workshop based on folktales in Ueda without mentioning my encounter with Mr. Inagaki of the Shiodadaira Research Institute of Folktales. I met him for the first time in the spring of 2020, just barely before the explosion of a new Coronavirus infection. I visited him at his home, where a tunnel-like path lit by constellation lamps led me to a tatami room where people sit around a sunken hearth for folk storytelling. There I had the chance to listen to the folktales of "Shitagui-ike" and "Koizumi Kotaro." I was overwhelmed by the storyteller's expression and the possibilities of various interpretations and social functions that the folktales could play. I vividly remember discussing excitedly with Mr. Arai of Sai no Tsuno Guesthouse and Theatre, and the coordinator Ms. Naoi that this program would be complete if we could have Mr. Inagaki tell the folktales.

After some postponement due to the pandemic, we invited Mr. Inagaki to the first day of the workshop. In the two-hour session, Mr. Inagaki told the folktales of "Koizumi Kotaro" and "Deidarabotchi and a Widow" and discussed his interpretations of the tales. Most of the participants, ranging from junior high school students to adults, had never had the chance to hear the folktales told orally before. They were stunned by Mr. Inagaki's mastery of storytelling, passion, and the depth and breadth of his thoughts. In addition, we had the opportunity to touch a piece of jakotsuseki (a type of Zeolite), which is said to be the bones of the snake that gave birth to Koizumi Kotaro. Touching the stone evoked the mysterious sensation where I felt the world of folktales and the real world overlapped beyond time and space. In the following day's reflections, the participants shared various feedbacks about the content of the folktales and their interpretation, but also about the nature of folktales that stories may slightly change from teller to teller (oral literature). They also shared their realization that folktales have specific links to actual places and their impressions of Mr. Inagaki's room of folktales.

A FIELD TRIP TO KURAFUCHI (KURAGAFUCHI)

On the fourth day of the workshop, Mr. Inagaki's friends from Shiodadaira Research Institute of Folktales, Mr. and Mrs. Sakai, guided us to Kuragafuchi in Sangawa, or "Kurafuchi" as called by the locals, supposedly the birthplace of Kotaro. First, we looked at the large map in front of our meeting place Tokkokan, to identify the locations of various sites mentioned in "Koizumi Kotaro" and visualized the overall size of the area covered by the story. We were amazed that the area was quite large. Finally, we started our trip to Kurafuchi. It was just after a heavy rain, and the water level in the Sangawa River was high, and the road was muddy. Water dripped from the soft moss and greenery of the trees, and the sounds of birds echoed in the air. Feeling the humidity and the

presence of invisible forces of nature, I simultaneously experienced the beauty

and menace of nature. I felt my senses as a living creature were reviving. It felt even more so since the pandemic had made everyday life suffocating, as wearing masks was mandatory as practically speaking.

I led the Ear Cleaning that I had facilitated the day before. It is an activity of sound education, which examines the environment through sound, proposed by Raymond Murray

Schafer, a contemporary musician, and educator. For about three minutes, the participants meditate and focus on listening to the sounds. Then they make a sound map by writing down the description of the sounds they heard on pieces of paper. Schafer proposed the concept of the "soundscape" and proffered the need to reconsider the changes in the sound environment due to urbanization, especially the environment surrounded by machine noise. By concentrating on sound, we, too, could freshly reimagine our environment that we could not perceive by sight alone.

When we returned to our workshop venue Sai no Tsuno, each of us selected three sounds that left strong impressions on us from the sound map and tried to express them with our voices. We also wrote down the sounds chosen on cards and combined them to create musical improvisation. Finally, we glued the cards onto a large piece of paper to create a "musical score." The sounds of Kurafuchi made at this time were later recorded and inserted into the play as a sound representing Kuragafuchi. In addition, each of us wrote a five-line poem about what we felt at Kurafuchi and presented it to the group. Afterward, each person's poem was disassembled into pieces and brought together to construct a group poem. The group poem was like a three-dimensional tapestry of words, intricately woven with individual impressions. The method is called Dula-Tula (poetic drama). The play began with the reading of the poem by the participants, standing around the audience. It set the stage right into Kurafuchi that the participants experienced, and into the world of Koizumi Kotaro.

Impressions of the Kuragafuchi written by the participants during the Tula Dula workshop.

WAS THE GRANDMOTHER "HAPPY" TO BE CRUSHED BY KOTARO'S BUNCH OF JAPANESE CLOVER?

By the way, "Kotaro Koizumi" ends with the sudden death of the grandmother who raised Kotaro. She gets trapped under the pile of Japanese clover, which the grown-up Kotaro gathered for her. As she unravels the bundle without listening to Kotaro's warning, pieces of Japanese clover fly off and kill her. Mr. Inagaki told us his theory about the ending of the folktale and said the grandmother must have been happy. But, how could she be happy when she lost her life? The participants couldn't fully understand it, and the puzzlement lingered among the participants for a while. In the play, Ms. Yuko Antoku (Rinko Hime) took on the dual roles of the snake and the grandmother and gave an outstanding (monstrous) performance, but it was not my original intention to have one person act the two roles. However, now I see some overlap between the characters of the snake and the grandmother. Both give birth to or foster the next generation and then pass away. In the modern sense,

where pursuing personal happiness is considered a virtue, it is difficult to imagine the joy when a person's life is cut short. However, as living creatures, both the snake and grandmother have accomplished their primary mission of nurturing the next generation. The sense of primitiveness inherent in folktales

may feel uncomfortable to us today. We also have to be aware that primitiveness has been historically exploited for other purposes. However, at the same time, it provides us with an opportunity to rethink various things around us.

THE FLOW OF A RIVER THAT SWALLOWS UP EVERYTHING

Mr. Riki Takeda took charge of playing "Deidarabotchi and a Widow”. As I took the lead of "Koizumi Kotaro," I prepared

thread and fabric for the play. The thread represented the young monk's string that he attaches to the snake, and the fabric represented water, including the Sangawa River. I wanted to prepare at least 1000 meters of thread. In the scene where the young monk follows the snake in the forest, I thought it was essential to express the scale of the world captured in the folktale and organically depict the forest that the young monk passes through chasing the snake. I borrowed a magnificent wooden spool of thread. Many households in Ueda own one since sericulture once flourished in the past. On the stage, the thread was unrolled from the spool, and the monk followed the line.

The last scene, as I mentioned earlier, ends with the grandmother dying under the Japanese clover. Is this the right way to end the piece? I asked the participants because I remained uncertain if it was the right way to end the play, which reconsiders the relationship between the environment and human beings. Is it right to close the play with the story between human beings (although Kotaro is a child of a snake)? Then the coordinator, Ms. Naoi, asked, “What if the river water swallows up everything?”. In other words, her suggestion was to have the fabric representing water cover the collapsed grandmother and the people acting the role of Japanese clover. That's what I was also thinking. All the participants agreed on that.

In the story, the snake, after giving birth, gets swept into the river and torn apart in the raging weather, while the newborn Kotaro is carried downstream and rescued unharmed. The story portrays the ambivalence of the force of water: destruction and mercy. When we went to Kurafuchi during the workshop, we felt the freshness and beauty of nature. At the same time, some also felt fearful because of the disaster that occurred in Atami just before the workshop

due to heavy rains, and the flow of the Sangawa River was more intense than usual. In my mind, the river in the story was connected with the images of the Chikuma River flood a few years ago and the red iron bridge of the Bessho Onsen Railway that was swept away by water. It represented heavy rain, disasters, and the enormous power of water. But how can I express it?

The idea of using fabric for the last scene came while rehearsing "Koizumi Kotaro" with the participants. The heavy rains caused by climate change swallow up both the world depicted in the folktale and the world of human

activity itself. Isn't this the situation we are heading to now? The last part of the play suggested such a question. We experienced folktales as oral literature, which changed our view of the local rivers and mountains. While engaging in every step of the workshop, we were able to rethink the force of nature and its relationship with human beings through expressing the rivers and forests in the world of folktales. It was the opportunity for us to think about where our world is going today. Interestingly, during the group reflections, we talked about the workshop and the relationship between work and money and work and life. The time we spent together thinking about the money-driven economy that has caused environmental problems from our standpoint carved in us an enriching moment.

SAI NO TSUNO / THEATER & ARTS UEDA

Theater & Arts Ueda provides a venue for cultural exchange among local residents and artists through expressive activities such as theater, music, and art. Our projects include theater, workshops, hosting film festivals and exhibitions of outsider art. We also run the cultural facility, Sai no Tsuno.

Sai no Tsuno, located in Unno-machi Shopping Street at the center of Ueda City, is a private cultural facility that consists of a “theatre” with a coffee shop and a “guesthouse”. It is a place where you meet something outside yourself. The building, which used to be a small bank, has a space for a theatre where batons for stage lighting are installed all over the high ceiling and a small guest house where you can feel the breath of the castle town. This is a space open to the community, where local residents, artists and backpackers can meet and have out-of-the-ordinary experiences while enjoying theater, music and art.

Artists and backpackers bring diverse values and bodies to the shopping street at the center of the city. In order to vitalize a community, we believe that following the trend and consuming things are not enough. We need to find something outside ourselves, such as great art works or others who have different values. Stand still, think, and doubt the world which you have long believed in. Sai no Tsuno offers an opportunity to encounter the unknown world, creating new values and disseminating them from Ueda.

HIROFUMI ARAI

Board Chairperson Sai no Tsuno/Theatre & Arts Ueda

MEGUMI NAOI

Born in Ueda City, Nagano Prefecture. She worked in international cooperation and in many projects where NGOs and educational institutions collaborate on development assistance and the creation of diverse learning venues. She is involved in the Ueda Peace Film Festival and dachi no kioku. Since 2015, she has been working as an overseas exchange advisor at Ueda Prefectural High School. Since 2017, she has also been involved in the relaunching of a 100-year-old movie theater as a director of the NPO Ueda Film Theater. She is a papercut artist and she creates works with a natural and rustic taste. She is also in charge of the overall cutout art for this booklet.

WORKSHOP PRODUCTION STAFF

Production Manager

Hirofumi Arai

Coordinator/Publicist

Megumi Naoi

Assistant Coordinator

Kyoko Ishizaka

Stage Manager Azusa Murakami

Lighting operator

Chairo Ito

Interpreter & Translator

Tomo Yoshizawa, Reina Yuriko Yuliana , Mio Nogawa

Videographer & Editor Asuka Hashizume , Kenji Taruta, Marehito Antoku

Photographer

Yasuhiko Naoi, Megumi Naoi, Kyoko Ishizaka