DIALECTICS: MONO NO AWARE

To help supplement our understanding of this concept of mono no aware, we will introduce some ideas and stories that draw inspiration from film, poetry, literature and nature.

In Japan, cherry blossoms are also known as sakura and they are a symbol of the coming springtime. As soon as the buds blossom fully, there’s an explosive chain reaction of a beautiful display of soft pink petals swirling to the ground in grand finale known as sakura fubuki. This event usually only lasts for about a week every year. Therefore, the sakura tree is also often seen as a much-revered metaphor for the brevity of a human life.

SAKURA

In fact, since 1192 after the rise of the samurai class, sakura petals are used to symbolize warriors, stating that a samurai should live passionately and die young. “You shall die like beautiful falling cherry petals for the emperor.” Falling sakura petals are often used to represent the reincarnated souls of warriors who fell in battle. In 1945 during World War II, the flowers took on a similar meaning when they were painted on the side of kamikaze warplanes.

5cm per second, the speed at which sakura petals fall to the ground, is also the title of a stunning Makoto Shinkai short film about a love that could not be and a rare moment of true beauty. It speaks of two characters and how their lives intersect at some point, but they eventually drift into their separate ways. There isn’t so much of a central moral message to be taken away from the film but rather, it was a culmination of multiple unspoken emotions. It is a complex web of bittersweet longing, of missed opportunities and of regret and sorrow. These are inexplicable feelings that could only by evoked by the simple image of the delicate falling of sakura petals. Just as how falling sakura petals evoked a sense of bittersweetness, we believe that Yasujiro Ozu’s films expresses similar sentiments that we wish to convey in this exhibition. Ozu’s films translate as a visual poetry that perfectly captures the aesthetics of mono no aware. He uses cinematic techniques, such as ellipses, pillow shots and tatami shots to create a sense of time, of slowness and of intimacy.

“Pillow shot” is a term that has been coined by film critic Noël Burch. It is a reference to the “pillow words” (Makurakotoba or 枕詞) in classical Japanese waka poetry which can act as either “filler” phrases or as short addendums to the poetry. The purpose is to invite deeper contemplation or to shift the meaning of the following lines. Interspersed within Ozu’s films are his trademark pillow shots of seemingly random scenes that are held for sustained periods of time. These are often shots of the monotony of the quotidian life: of laundry hung out to dry, a passing train and its train tracks, a vase and household objects or simply an empty room. These pillow shots allow for reflection and profundity with the lightest of touches.

His stories are understated, and the pillow shots are subtle ways to evoke a sense of mono no aware that is roiling beneath the surface.

The Tale of Genji, an eleventh century masterpiece by Murasaki Shikibu (c.973 - c.1014) is often considered as one of the first novels ever written. It is a novel that is saturated with the refined quality of mono no aware and in fact, the word “aware” appeared more than 1000 times throughout the length of the novel. Focusing on only Chapter 10, it is a section that has been particularly imbued with this sense of loss and longing. In this episode, Prince Genji bids farewell to The Rokujō lady and the description of the natural scenery is suffused with the spirit of melancholy and steeped in the Heian aesthetic consciousness. The conversation between the lovers sets up the complex evocation of mono no aware through a subdued yet powerful moment. Please read the following excerpts from Chapter 10, The Sacred Tree:

THE TALE OF GENJI

It was over a reed plain of melancholy beauty that he made his way to the shrine. The autumn flowers were gone, and insects hummed in the wintry tangles. A wind whistling through the pines brought snatches of music to most wonderful effect, though so distant that he could not tell what was being played. Not wishing to attract attention, he had only ten outrunners, men who had long been in his service, and his guards were in subdued livery. He had dressed with great care. His more perceptive men saw how beautifully the melancholy scene set him off, and he was having regrets that he had not made the journey often. A low wattle fence, scarcely more than a suggestion of an enclosure, surrounded a complex of board-roofed buildings, as rough and insubstantial as temporary shelters. […] The dawn sky was as if made for the occasion. Not wanting to go quite yet, Genji took her hand, very gently.

“A dawn farewell is always drenched in dew, But sad is the autumn sky as never before.”

A cold wind was blowing, and a pine cricket seemed to recognize the occasion. It was a serenade to which a happy lover would not have been deaf. Perhaps because their feelings were in such tumult, they found that the poems they might have exchanged were eluding them. At length the lady replied:

“An autumn farewell needs nothing to make it sadder. Enough of your songs, O crickets on the moors!”

It would do no good to pour forth all the regrets again. He made his departure, not wanting to be seen in the broadening daylight. His sleeves were made wet along the way with dew and with tears.