The Line: Day 3

I must admit, I was a little worried. The third part of my assignment is to interact in some way with your space, which may include participations or interviews. But I don't know the Japanese language. And I don't know Japanese customs. And for everynight, I asked myself: "How will I interact with these people?" I tried to plan ahead, learning key phrases and answers to the questions that I would anticipate. "Interesting." "What are you doing?" "What kind of animal is this?" But instead I just went for it. Expecting the least expected so to say. And it actually worked out in my favor.

I wanted to interact with various spots within the line, rather than sticking to one particular place. First stop was the temple. Upon entering the temple gate, I quickly noticed the cranes were gone. The vans and the old men were gone. Well...there were still old men, and some old women. But today they threw in their 50 yen, claped their hands together, took a bow and began to pray. Never having done this myself, I also decided to step up to the plate and followed by example. I threw in my 10 yen, clapped my hands, bowed, closed my eyes, and began to pray. Pray for what? I dunno, but I did it nonetheless. With my eyes clothes, others would step up and throw in their money, and do exactly the same that I and previous visitors had done. After that experience, I noticed many others with flowers grabbed a bucket and laddle and filled it with water from the nearby pump. I have not had to pleasure of witnessing this, for there was construction during the days of my observations. They entered the side gate with their bucket and flowers, and proceeded to walk through what appeared to be a graveyard/memorial site. I did wish to do the same, but I did not have a dead loved one, at least not in Tokyo, and decided against it, for I saw it disrepectful to the dead and their families.

I continued walking down the line, the sculptor was not at his throne today. The glove was no longer on the ground. I almost walked past the bakery, but the smell grabbed me by the nosehairs and dragged me in. I bought a "hop chou a la creme" filled with a rich chilled custard which was very very very very very tasty. I mean yummy. Instead of the passerby, only familiar with the smell of the shop, I decided to become a customer, involving myself deeper into the sensory experience, which lead me to buy and taste one. Boy boy was it yummy.

I soon left the bakery and headed toward my final stop, of Patio Juban, right next to the Azabu-Juban station. I approached the racks of pottery while thinking of how I can interact with this space, to go from being merely an observer to becoming a part of it. I decided the best way is to become the customer. A flyer was posted advertising the "Kasama Stoneware Festival", a place where you can meet one of the 6 artists and buy their work. I began to browse through some of the items, interested by some, glancing over others. The prices seemed reasonable, but I didn't have much money to spend on pottery. I found a bowl of ceramic buttons, each for 200 yen, which I ended up buying. The artist came up to me and said "Hello," in very good English, which caught me off guard. I expected this interview to be very difficult, with an attempt at Japanese on my part. So with a sigh of relief I paid for the button. He then looked up to me and said, "If I may ask, what do you plan on using this for?" I told him that would turn it into a necklace. He then smiled and replied, "I do the same myself actually. Would you like some string with that?" We walked back to his work area as he unwound some thin brown string, streched it out, measured it, and cut it to an appropriate length. I thought this was a good time for me to ask him some questions about his work and I proceeded to do so. I asked him which work was his, and pointed out how fine and detailed some of his work was, some really beautiful pieces. I asked him how he mananged to impress such fine lines into the clay, and he gave me an interesting response. He told me that he uses bass guitar string, unwinds the wound string, and uses those thin strips of nickel and steel to make the impressions on the clay. Such fine, straight, and distinct lines really told me something about the care he puts into his work. He told me that this is his 3rd time doing a show in Azabu-Juban, to which he added, liked the area for there are many interesting people. He gave a slight chuckle when he said "interesting". I can't really tell if that's a good thing. He's doing this show with 5 other artists who are also contained within this cement block. He's worked with them before, but for the most part travels around the country with various pottery artists, staying for days in a particular area, and then moving on to the next place. I thanked him for the piece, shook his hand, and wished him luck with the rest of his show. He gave me his card and a thank you. I was on my merry way, with some experiences and evidence to show.

The Line: Day 2

The Line: Day 1

Despite my orignal intention to cover my neighborhood of Ontakesan for the 1st exercise, I discovered a place within the Minato-ku Ward, near the Azabu-juban station, that really captured my eyes and ears, leading me from one place to the next. I call this place "The Line" for lack of a better name, because my after setting sights on a particular temple, I was lead down the street to observe other interesting little areas, walking the line...shit, that's a name of that Johnny Cash movie...or Jackween Phoenix played Johnny Cash or something I forget. It would be easy for me to talk about one area in detail, but I feel that it is necessary for me briefly touch on these areas in short descriptive terms and sentences to perhaps give you a feel for the Line.

Upon walking down one of the many two-lane streets in Minato-ku, the first thing that catches you off guard is the empty gap within the monotonous rhythm of lofty apartment buildings and businesses. Within this gap contains a smooth road that leads a short distance to a set of stairs, which stack atop eachother leading to the temple gateway. A towering apartment complex can be found kilometers away from the temple, but seems to be hovering not far behind. Numerous people will walk up the road, up the temple steps and make a breif stop at the entrance of the temple. Middle-aged women, older men, and even an young male on a delivery bicycle took a couple of minutes out of their day to visit. Within the courtyard of the temple there prominently stands a tall yellow crane, it's arm outreaching toward the sky. A man in a yellow hard hat emerges from the bathroom, opens the door, and steps inside the crane. 2 gray haired men dig into their messy vans for various equipment and tools, then proceed to point and direct the direction of the crane. Two younger men with white cloth on their heads begin to move a small piece of machinery across the parking lot, as it continues to make noise and shake, slowly crawling like a minature military tank.

As I left the temple yard, I headed back to the entrance of the small road. I hear the "ping ping" sound of metal against metal. A man with light tan hat, goggles, and earplugs sits on his small stool while he faces a small mass of stone, hammering away at it with his chisel. Next to the one he's working on sits his model, a reference to the current piece in front of his eyes. The garage turned studio serves as his public work space, while pedistrians take a quick glance as to find the source of the rhythmic hammering. A man of the same age, with long gray hair and safari vest, walks inside giving the man a nod. He stops working for a minute for a brief word with this new man and then continues to hammer away.

Taking a look down the street you can see another open space. While walking this short distance to the end of the line, you are consumed by the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries. You see a lone pink glove on the ground next to the recyling bin. There's a monkey on a sign with his arms outreached for a hug. A bicylce with a BMW emblem. Upon reaching the end of the line, there is another open area, similar to a town square, a central focal piece complete with a statue, trees and plants, while roads wrap themselves around the rectangle. Today there are a number of men who have set up tables within this cement rectangle and are selling various plates, vases, soap dishes, all hand-crafted pottery. Atop a tagged stone slab sit small clay animals, not yet dry or baked, still soft as the clay it was made from. A long piece of wood serves as a small display stand for more clay animals, these ones baked, painted, and glazed. Fake plastic sushi are found on the serving dishes. Flowers and branches are in the vases and bowls. The men all have jobs to do. One man unwraps the items of their surrounding newspaper and places the newspaper into several milk crates. Another man, with cigarette in mouth, takes these items and sets them on the appropriate table. He takes a branch or twig and places them in the large cylindrical pot. Another man walks around pricing this items, placing small stickers along the inside of the bowl's wall, while another with a fanny pack and moustache monitors the whole area, assisting any potential buyers. These customers are mostly women. Women with daughters, women with sisters, and women with their husbands. These women who pick up the pieces, observing all sides of the item, and then pointing at another piece that interests them have been the customers so far. There is one more man, dissociated with the customers, who in the corner crouches down. There is a large mass of clay in front of him with a deep well in the middle. He takes a piece of newspaper, lights it on fire, and places it deep within the well of this clay. He adds more newspaper and begins to poke at it with a long wooden stick. Again he adds more newspaper and moves it around with the stick. A thick billow of smoke begins to pour out of the well as he proceeds to blow on the contained fire to keep it ablaze. Customers come and go. This man builds his fire. And the other men do their designated work.

Man Ers

The following is a post on manners:

In today's class, our guest speaker Julian Worrall gave us an breif yet indepth presentation on urban/public space, focusing on the Tokyo Subway System, the largest and most complex train system in the world. He touched on different topics where he explored the meanings behind station plaza monuments, the system as a whole, and the space and life within the individual train carriage. Here and toward the end we got into the disscussion of manners; manner posters promoting social virtue to prevent disturbance as well as the respect each person has for rules and manners. Every individual lives their life under the rules and regulations posted which provide for a obedient, non-violent, non-criminal society where each member police the actions of those around them. We sited the example of the un-sorted trash and how often times, neighbors will knock on your door telling you that it is unacceptable and must be sorted, because those are simply the rules. Very little social interaction takes place between strangers, especially within the subway system.

But it's interesting that we talked about manners and self-inforcement because on my way home after class, I witnessed my first examples of civilian police action. While standing on the platform in Ookayama wating for my Ikegami train to arrive, I took notice to a young hooligan throwing a piece of trash on the ground, attemping to throw it onto the tracks. Now I have not seen a single piece of trash on the ground let alone witness the young scuttlebutt throw something on the ground. 15 seconds later, an business man in his 50s went up to the young yahoo and told him to pick it up. With rosy cheeks like that of a freshly spanken babe, he shamefully picked up the piece of garbage and put it into his pocket.

Another instance was while I was standing near the courtesy area, where cell phones are to be turned off, and some young criminal was playing on his cell phone, ear buds in his ears. The lady next to him aggressively tapped him on the arm and pointed at the sign reading "Cell Phone=OFF" he didn't understand what she meant because he wasn't talking on it. She tapped him again and pointed at the sign. And like the milk soaken young ankle-biter, he took his ear buds out and closed his phone. For the rest of the ride he stared off to the seat in front of him, looking real sad. He has been removed from the internal space which many communters turn towards when they read their manga, listen to their music, or text on their keitai. He has been awaken from this fastasy world and been placed into the reality of the physical external world, a boy sitting on the train waiting for his stop. More shocking than the rule enforcing citizens was the look on his face when transfering from the internal space that makes one feel happy and safe into a reality that many daily communters do not wish to face. It's the constant reminder of where they are. That they do this everyday. It's a routine for this student, going to school in the morning, coming home at night, on the same train, everyday. And it scares the beejeezus out of him...not really, he's just is real pissed at this lady.

Number 1 or 18

This is my first post. I believe I'm supposed to let everyone know my name, which is Mike Giambra. And I think the syllabus said something about mentioning previous relationships and how girlfriends have become the ruin of my life. Well, my love life has been rocky from the very beginning, considering every girlfriend I've had has dumped me 3 months later for a girl. The first happened in 1st grade but, its still to soon to talk about. I'm kinda tired of dating these kind of women, you know the type, women that date women, the name escapes me. But I do have a girlfriend now and she's great, we've been dating for a year and she hasnt dumped me for a girl yet! But she has made out with my ex-girlfriend which was pretty f'd up.

So the Donald Richie reading was excellent. I often have a difficult time comprehending one's anthropological or philosophical analysis on a particular group or idea, but I felt the Donald Richie reading was insightful look into the Japanese culture and the relationship they have with nature or what they believe is natural. As Richie pointed out: "Nothing is natural until it has been so created." The Japanese construction and arrangement to reveal nature for its resemblence to the raw nature, under the influence of pattern and shape, presents me with an unseen view on Japanese culture that I have not taken notice to before. Perfect alignment of the human being within nature seem to hold great importance within the Japanese society. The concept of proper placement and order can be seen in ikebana as it can be seen within the costumed workers and students of Japan. There are many points Richie made that I found interesting but it is difficult for me to recall every one. In summary, this reading is real cool.

Although I did enjoy the reading, I had one problem with the Richie's perspective, which was subjectivity of his point of view, which strongly contrasts the John Berger reading, "The Senses of Sight," which held an objective standpoint. In the spirit of our first exercise, observing and interacting with a neighborhood within the Minoto-ku ward, I felt it was beneficial for me to relate and become acquainted with an objective point-of-view before I make any pre-judgements. I really enjoyed the John Berger reading for what it was, an unobstructed objective observation of a everyday people engaged in everyday activities. I have a strong connection with John Berger, for I find myself to be very intrigued by the actions of strangers, thus making me more observant. I'm afraid of making the mistake of being subjective when I am describing the actions within my community. While the Richie allowed me to see the point of view of a gaijin living in a foreign country, I wouldn't want to make the same comparisons when describing my community/neighborhood. I want it to be similar to Berger's description while maintaining my own sense of observation and style of writing.

I look forward to the writings I produce in this class, and hope that it strengthens my writing and observation abilities, allowing me to strive for better work, making an impact not only for my own mind, but for those who surround me as well.