About eight or nine years ago, Mas started using spray paint on   wood boards to create his suiseki art, and soon developed his technique to make paintings. 

When I first met him, Mas was making paintings in his “Atmosphere” series.   At the time, Mas told me that he was trying to “paint the sky behind the sky”.  Light seems to pour from his paintings, and I swear they can brighten a dark room. 

Mas’ pictures are not representational landscapes, rather he tries to free his mind from any intention when he paints.  But, like suiseki, the resulting images evoke the natural world and bring it into our human life. 

Space: Sunrise, 2/24/2009; 24"x48", oil on panel click the photo to see more paintings

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Some time ago I wrote about a suiseki that reminds me of a visit to Crater Lake with my mother (Evocation).  Making the daiza for this stone had fired Mas’ imagination and, having once viewed Crater Lake from 30,000 feet,  Mas wanted to go and see this magical place. We finally went this year as part of a road trip to the Pacific Northwest.

The night before, even though we had been on the road for nearly two weeks, we were like little kids waiting for Christmas who are too excited to sleep.  We got up about 4 am and left our motel just before dawn for the drive up Highway 138, along the North Umpqua River, to Crater Lake National Park.

The river runs through a dense forest, and is a quiet, introspective place.  There are no large vistas, instead you focus on the changing textures of the water surface and the play of light and shadow. We had only a beaver and the occasional fisherman to share our solitude.

Arriving at Crater Lake, the dense forest gave way to sparse vegetation with widely spaced trees, and the grand view of the lake opened up.

The crater (or more accurately caldera) was formed about 7700 years ago when the 12,000 foot high Mt. Mazama collapsed following a huge eruption. This eruption,  the largest to have occurred on earth in the last 10,000 years, scattered ash 6 inches deep over 5000 sq. miles (15 cm over 12,950 sq km).  The rim of the resulting crater stands at 7100 feet – meaning that 5000 feet of mountain disappeared in the eruption and collapse.

The rim rises 1000 feet (305 m) above the surface of the lake which formed inside the crater.  The lake is the deepest in the U.S. at about 1943 feet deep (592 meters) and the seventh deepest in the world.  The lake has no inflows or outflows and maintains itself through rain and snow melt.  The deep indigo color of the lake comes from the great depth of exceptionally clear, pure water.

Following the cataclysm, the volcano continued smaller eruptions, building cinder cones within the crater.  The largest of these is Wizard Island, which rises 2700 feet (820 meters) above the crater floor, and about 767 feet (234 meters) above the water surface.  The last eruption was about 5000 years ago, but continued hydrothermal activity at the bottom of the lake shows that the volcano is not extinct.

We spent the rest of the day on the Rim Drive, enjoying the colors and patterns on the water, the rock formations, and the whitebark pines that grow along the crater edge.

At the end of the day, with the sun getting low, we started what we expected to be a relaxed, quiet drive along the Rogue River on Highway 62 to Medford. But suddenly, as we approached the town of Union Creek, we saw amazing rapids by the side of the road.  We quickly pulled off and found ourselves at the Rogue River Gorge.  Here the river tumbles over waterfalls and through narrow chutes formed by hardened lava.   Earlier in our trip we had crossed the sedate, mature river where it flows quietly into the Pacific Ocean.  Now we were seeing it in its youth, dancing joyfully down the mountain.

What memories I have whenever I look at my little suiseki.

Click any picture to see a gallery of photos from our Crater Lake visit

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Shivering on the bridge near Miinohara

I think that one of the best meals I’ve ever had  was some simple noodles in a little town in Japan.

One chilly, gray day last fall, while  visiting the San’in region, Mas and I took a JR sightseeing train into the mountains of “inner Izumo”  to view the  fall colors.  We had seen a soba restaurant advertised in the JR pamphlet, so on the way back down we got off in Miinohara for lunch.   We found ourselves in a little unmanned station, more like a bus stop than anything else, with  nothing around but farmhouses.  It was raining and cold, we were  incredibly hungry, and the next train wouldn’t leave for another couple of hours.  We thought maybe we’d just made a huge mistake!

But we walked down the road and around the corner and there was the restaurant – Okuizumo Gen-an (奥出雲玄庵).  It was warm inside, and the waitress was welcoming.  The people who run the restaurant make the day’s noodles each morning from buckwheat they grow on their farm.  The menu offers only two choices – we had the “tororo soba” (buckwheat noodles served with a kind of grated  yam)  followed by a  nourishing bowl of sobayu, the water in which the noodles were cooked.

We were warmed by the good food and simple hospitality.

Okuizumo Gen-an in Miinohara

Click on any picture to go to the photo gallery

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This old five-needle pine carries my imagination up into the high mountains.

Last fall, Mas and I went to the Gomangoku Bonsai show (五万石盆栽展) in Okazaki, near Nagoya.

Daiju-en (大樹園), which puts on this exhibit, stands at the head of a group of bonsai nurseries run by some of the finest professional bonsai artists in Japan.  The proprietor is Tohru Suzuki, the grandson of the founer, Saichi Suzuki. My bonsai teacher, Boon Manakitivipart, is part of this lineage.  His teacher (or oyakata 親方), Kihachiro Kamiya, apprenticed with Tohru’s father, Toshinori.

One of the things that sets Japanese bonsai apart from our American bonsai  is the age and development of the trees.  You can see this especially when you look at the ancient bark on the pines.  In time our trees will also show the beauty and dignity of age.

Gomangoku has a large, high-quality, sales area.

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Click on the photo to see additional pictures

Fall and winter are always a busy time of year for me, and my blogging rate falls off accordingly.   Right now, I am about to start final preparations for the 10th Anniversary Bay Island Bonsai exhibit, which will be  held January 17-18, 2009.  I am showing the four bonsai you see above, and Mas is planning two suiseki displays.

This year’s show trees are sleeping right now, but in a couple of weeks I will dress each one up and get it ready for display.  This includes various activities such as applying a top dressing of moss, removing wires, and cleaning and (lightly) oiling the pots.

Coming up in the New Year I’ll return with more of Mas’ suiseki, as well as some photos of the interesting places we saw in our recent trip to Japan.

Meanwhile, Mas and I would like to wish you a Good Solstice, and a very Happy New Year.

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When Mas first collected this stone it was covered in baked mud.  After cleaning it with soap and water he kept it in the garden as a landscape stone.  After many years in the rain and sun the dirt had been cleaned off and the stone started to show the waterfall.  Finally the crystals that form the waterfall had completely whitened.   

Mas says that he has been struggling to finish this stone for fifteen years because of its unbalanced proportions.  It has a strong sculptural form, especially as seen from the sides where it evokes for him the work of Brancusi  (especially Bird in Space).  This stone is so beautiful as art, but is very difficult as suiseki. ( click here to see additional photos).

Recently, Mas has been enjoying working with the traditional daiza form, with its two-level rim, for natural stones such as this.  The classic beauty and elegance of this form has been developed by artists and craftsmen over many centuries.

If you look back at The Struggle, Mas feels that he got lost by trying too hard to make the finished piece “fine art”, and it ended up not being good suiseki.  The piece was caught between the two, neither fine art nor suiseki.   This time he wanted to pay careful attention to the stone and its form.  Pieta is a very fine waterfall and he finished it as a suiseki.

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Posted in Art, daiza, Suiseki, Suiseki Art ]]> http://suisekiart.com/2008/10/24/piet/feed/ 6 jtroth http://suisekiart.com/2008/09/16/suiseki-daiza-cut-stones/ http://suisekiart.com/2008/09/16/suiseki-daiza-cut-stones/#comments Tue, 16 Sep 2008 03:39:55 +0000 Janet Roth http://suisekiart.wordpress.com/2008/09/16/suiseki-daiza-cut-stones/ ]]>

Making daiza for suiseki is hard; you need to acquire the necessary wood carving skills, you need a sensitive, artistic eye, and you need to develop an understanding of the aesthetics of the art form.

As a beginning daiza maker you will likely start with a standard daiza style and practice it first for cut stones and then with natural stones. In the process you will gain technical skills and develop your artistic eye and understanding of suiseki.  As your skill develops you may start to modify the style of your daiza in order to better capture the unique qualities of individual stones.

As regular readers of this blog know, Mas will cut a stone when he feels it is right artistically for a particular stone.  He does not like to do this however if the result will be just a mediocre suiseki.  Cutting the stone must not only be an improvement over the stone in its natural state, but the resulting composition must meet the aesthetic criteria and “rules” for suiseki.

Finding a very good cut stone is difficult, almost as hard as finding a good natural stone. A cut stone suiseki must consist of a mineral of medium-hardness, with good color and patina; most important, it needs to follow the rule of three-sides (三面の法 sanmen-no-hou) and have a good seat (kamae 構).    (You can find a previous discussion of this topic in our article To Cut or Not to Cut.)

Mas always recommends that beginning daiza makers begin with cut stones, and develop both their wood working skills and their artistic understanding of suiseki, prior to tackling the natural stones.

In this article I’m not going to show a “how to” for making a cut stone daiza.  That information is widely available through workshops and books (I’ll give some references below).  Instead, Mas and I want to discuss some of the different styles of daiza he uses.

Each stone is different, and you cannot use a single type of daiza for every suiseki.  The shape and height of the daiza wall and legs need to be adapted in order to harmonize with the particular stone. If you click on the pictures below, you will find photo galleries that illustrate each section.  In these galleries you will see specific comments about particular suiseki and their daiza.

Traditional Daiza

The beginning point for any daiza maker is a “traditional” style.  In Mas’ case, this is a simple daiza form that was brought to Northern  California by the Japanese artists that introduced suiseki to us.  These traditional daiza, which derive from those popular during the Meiji period, have a straight, horizontal rim with two levels – the inner rim is slightly higher than the outer rim.

This style is well suited to the classic “distant mountain” stones such as the one shown above.  While it is strongly asymmetrical, the stone nevertheless has a quiet, reserved feeling.  It does not have strong movement, there is not a lot of surface texture, and the color range is muted and subtle.  The simplicity of the daiza combined with the slightly decorative touch of the raised inner rim gives this suiseki a restrained, elegant feeling.

The apparent simplicity of the daiza, of course, belies the actual difficulty in making it.  While the style dictates the overall form, every detail can vary:  the height and width of the daiza wall, the size and placement of each foot, even the angle at which each foot meets the ground.

Contemporary Daiza

In recent years, suiseki artists in Japan and elsewhere have developed a new style that has a single rim line.  This style is of course less decorative and has a less formal feeling than the traditional style.

Mas no longer uses this style very often, but for the suiseki above the simplicity of the daiza harmonizes well with the stone and helps to keep the eye focused on the stone and not the base.

Creative Daiza

Recently, Mas has started exploring a new style of daiza, trying to better enhance the features of individual stones.  In this “creative” style, Mas does not stick to a horizontal rim, but adjusts it with the movement of the stone.

If you look at this suiseki, Mas chose to cut the stone lower than he normally would and vary the height of the daiza rim.  This lets him reveal the “valley” in the lower part of the front while filling in the undercuts at each end.

Obviously, this style requires the same wood carving skill that is needed for a natural stone suiseki. The point, however, is not to show off the artist’s skill, nor to pretend that it is a natural stone. The intention is improve the cut stone and show the suiseki to its best advantage.

This creative style does not suit all stones.   In the gallery behind the photo you will see some examples where the busyness and movement of the base distracts from the beauty of the stone and a simpler, more traditional daiza would fit better.

The suiseki artist needs to appreciate the particular uniqueness of each stone and make a daiza that enhances it.  As Mas says “I like to find what is best for the stone.  No matter how much time I spend, once I pick it up and bring it home, whether it is a cut stone or natural, I want to do the best I can to enhance the stone.  This is my way of stone appreciation.”

References for Daiza Making

The easiest way to learn how to make daiza is to belong to a local suiseki club if one is available.  There are also seminars and conventions held in the U.S., Europe, and Asia where instruction can be had.  Often, suiseki instructors participate at bonsai conventions and shows.

Coming up in October, 2008 is the International Stone Appreciation Seminar in Pennsylvania.

Books

Suiseki – The Japanese Art of Miniature Landscape Stones by Felix Rivera (published by Stone Bridge Press, Berkeley, CA)

The Japanese Art of Stone Appreciation by Vincent T. Covello and Yuji Yoshimura (published by Charles E. Tuttle, Rutland, VT)

Various Japanese language books written by members of the Murata family have illustrated guides (with photos) for making the older traditional style of daiza.  One source for these old books is http://www.japanese-book.com/index.php .

Web Resources

Suiseki force et beauté (in French)
Michael Hach
International Stone Appreciation Society
Bonsaimania (in Spanish)

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Mas will be sowing his latest suiseki art sculpture and two paintings in the next show at Triangle Gallery, Old Friends, New Faces III.

Old Friends, New Faces III
August 26, 2008 – September 27, 2008
Reception September 6, 3 p.m. – 5 p.m.

Triangle Gallery
47 Kearny Street, San Francisco, CA 94108
Tel. 415.392.1686

Gallery Hours: Tuesday – Saturday, 11 a.m. – 5 p.m.

Painting: “Winter Blue”;2008;48″ x 24″;Oil paint on wood board
Sculpture: “Great Land” (大地 Daichi), 2008; W 45″ x D 16″ x H 9″; Stone and paint on wood board (deodar cedar)

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Hideko Metaxas found this stone many years ago on the Klamath River. As often seems to be the case with really good suiseki, it was lying right-side-up on the surface, seemingly waiting to be discovered.  Hideko says about this stone

When I first found this stone, I knew it was extraordinary.  It gave me the feeling of times long past. The restrained and subtle color, with its deep, rusty, weathered, patina gives it a calm, consoling feeling.   The gentle, quiet, shape is tender and comforting. The wrinkles and furrows that run through the middle of the stone suggest that something happened a long time ago, but that everything is now quiet.

The size is small enough to hold in my palms and hear and feel what the stone is trying to tell me – or maybe what I want to hear from the stone. When I hold it in my hands I feel at one with the universe and the magical healing power of the stone embraces my soul.

Mas right away fell in love with this stone when he saw it at Hideko’s house.  He said:

This is not the type of stone that will stand out in a suiseki contest, but even so it caught my eye immediately.  The beauty of its depth, modesty and simplicity all combine to create a deep wabi-sabi   feeling.  It reminded me of a special gift I received from our suiseki teacher, Mr. Hirotsu.

About 25 years ago, not long before  he passed away, he gave me a little suiseki, which he loved. At that time   I didn’t quite understand what he was trying to show me with this gift. For Mr. Hirotsu suiseki were the way into the world of Zen, but I could not yet follow along with him.

One way to appreciate stones is through the natural landscapes and figures defined in traditional suiseki.  Another way is to go beyond this into the realm of fine art.  However, just as most of the universe is “dark matter”, hidden from our view, behind these visual forms is a very personal, emotional and spiritual world of suiseki.  After many years had passed I realized that Hirotsu-sensei was trying to lead me to this Zen world with his valuable gift.

Hideko says there are many ways to appreciate suiseki.  She tells about the time when Nancy Eaton, the editor of the Golden Statements bonsai magazine, was publishing an article about Mr. Hirotsu and his suiseki.  Nancy asked Hirotsu-sensei if he had any advice for suiseki admirers; he said calmly, with a gentle smile, ”just enjoy it”.

Gift from Hirotsu-sensei

Click on any picture to see the photo gallery for this article.

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The oldest living tree currently known is a Great Basin Bristlecone Pine growing in the White Mountains of eastern California.  This tree, which is over 4800 years old, was born at the dawn of human civilization and is still alive and vigorous today.  Mas and I went to visit the bristlecone pines, which grow between 9,000 and 11,500 feet (2743 m – 3505 m)  in the high mountains of eastern California, Nevada, and Utah.

What allows these amazing trees to live so long?  Of course, there is no single answer,  but a big factor is simply that bristlecone pines can thrive in conditions that would kill any other tree.

The bristlecones grow widely separated from each other, like a display of natural bonsai art, accented by small alpine plants. Because they grow in rocky, alkaline soil in a dry, cold  climate with an extremely short growing season,  they have no competition from other trees and shrubs for the little available water, and are also isolated from insects, fungus, and fire.

They can survive extensive damage to one  part of the tree.  Over time many parts of the tree will die – the soil slowly erodes away killing a root, lightning strikes the top, the climate warms allowing insects to attack a branch.   Each injury shows  itself in arresting visual patterns as the live veins twist around the dead wood.

The trees that grow the most slowly, in the harshest environments, are also the oldest.  The bristlecone’s wood is full of pitch, which protects it from insects and fungus.  The more slowly they grow the denser their wood is and the tougher they are. Even after death the tree will remain standing in the ground for thousands of years.

We returned home with deep admiration for these magnificent trees and their ability to survive thousands of years in such harsh conditions.  The bristlecone pines, in their lonely endurance and dignity, teach us the deep meaning of the art of bonsai and the eternal dance of life and death.

Click this picture for more photographs of the bristlecone pines and landscapes and wildflowers of the White Mountains.

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