Ikebana: a Meditation on Transience

As with so many stories in Kyoto, this one begins with a shrine. I will never lose the simple amazement of stepping off a busy street full of shops and restaurants and confused tourists into a timeless Japan of simple stone and wood, transporting me to a bygone era. Integrating tradition into modern life is an art the Japanese have perfected, and this includes the humble but intense mastery of traditional crafts, such as ikebana. 

At the Wara-Tenjin shrine, a fitting location for the blending of ancient and contemporary, my mom and I took an ikebana class from one of these modern masters. Keiko-san has been studying ikebana for almost twenty years and now teaches classes to both Japanese people and foreigners. She attended the Sago Goryu school of ikebana and still takes weekly classes with her eighty-six-year-old sensei, understanding that to call yourself a master you must first realize how much you still have to learn. 

Ikebana is strikingly different from the western flower arrangements I am used to. Giant blooms, overflowing vases, and brilliant colors take center stage at weddings, parties and dinner tables across the US. But ikebana has a different approach. The first thing Keiko-san tells us is that we must “examine each flower carefully to see what makes it beautiful.” I spent several minutes testing out different angles on my first flower, because to do ikebana correctly, which translates not as “flower arranging”, but as “making the flowers alive”, you must let the flowers guide you in their placement.

                                    

An ikebana arrangement at the Murin-an garden in Kyoto 

Because many styles of ikebana aim to replicate natural landscapes, an essential piece of traditional ikebana practice is to observe the flowers in their natural environments. This observation is necessary to understanding a flower’s “inner essence and natural beauty”, as Keiko-san told our small class of three. 

The origins of ikebana are unclear. In ancient Shinto traditions, evergreen trees were decorated with flowers and brought into the home to act as a welcoming space for Kami (Shinto spirits) to inhabit. As natural elements have always been regarded as spiritual in Shinto, decorating with flowers and branches was a way for people to bring that supernatural energy into the home.

Ikebana also has roots in Buddhism, initially as lay offerings at temples and later as a highly evolved art form practiced exclusively by monks. Such arrangements were created in bronze vases with straight flowers, representing the axis between the earth and sky and the prayers connecting humans with the deity world. 

                                       

My ikebana arrangement. Keiko-san, my mom, and Hina in the background

The shoguns of the Muromachi period (1336-1573) promoted the arts in daily life, specifically the “Three Classical Arts of Refinement”: the tea ceremony, incense appreciation, and ikebana. During this time, ikebana was used specifically as decoration for the tokonoma alcove in the front of the house. When Japan reopened trade with China in 1401, the finest and most sought after imports became Chinese pottery and vases. The elite class displayed these items as vessels for ikebana, elevating the social status of the art form.

Throughout ikebana’s long history, several great schools emerged with distinct styles and techniques. While some remain quite traditional, many newer schools have paved the way for ikebana’s modernization. The Ikenobo school is one of the oldest in Japan and emphasizes traditional techniques, whereas the Sogetsu school has a more contemporary style. 

Keiko-san’s ikebana school, the Sago Goryu, teaches four main types of ikebana: Heika, Seika, Shogonka, and Moribana. The class I attended was on Moribana, which, while the most modern and freeform of the styles, was still surprisingly strict. Moribana was developed in the Meiji period (1868-1912), when Japan became heavily influenced by Western customs. New ikebana methods were needed to accommodate both foreign flora as well as western style living spaces. Because ikebana concerns not only the arrangement of flowers but also where such arrangements are displayed, it is necessary for the art form to adapt to changes in its surroundings.

                             

 Two handouts on Moribana Keiko-san gave me

I began my moribana arrangement with a large, shallow ceramic dish filled with water and two metal flower holders, called shippo. Keiko-san brought a gorgeous spray of sanshuyu flowers, pea flowers, carnations, and tulips on the bus to class and was laughing with us about bumping into everyone on the way there. We used the sanshuyu flowers as our tai branch, the focal point of a moribana arrangement, which bends over the surface of the water creating a reflection. 

                                             

The moribana dish and shippo flower holders

I chose the carnations as my yu, which are placed in front of the tai. Ikebana requires a generous amount of patience, as the angle and placement of each flower is extremely precarious, and the shippo holders can be difficult to use. Or, in my case, you have to constantly replace flowers because you clumsily knock them down!

We used pink and purple curling pea flowers as the sō branches, which rest supportively behind the tai. Part of seeing the innate “essence” of a flower is to recognize what role it is best suited for in the arrangement. Should it be the strong, confident centerpiece? Or a frilly supporting branch? Perhaps a certain leaf would be best as the ground layer? Pea flowers, with their dainty faces and silly curving lines, are ideal for a decorative background character. Pretty and pleasing, but lacking the strong self assurance of the sanshuyu, who was a perfect fit for our leading lady.

                                       

                                                          My mom's ikebana arrangement

The Buddhist appreciation for impermanence manifests in ikebana. The best arrangements last only a few days, and mine wasn’t even given that chance. We dismantled our creations at the end of class but happily got to bring home the individual flowers! Ikebana teaches you to appreciate something sincerely not because it is forever, not because it is big and strong and stable, but because it represents a fleeting beauty that is not meant to last, however much we might want it to.

                                      

Hina's ikebana arrangement

Perhaps this sense of transience is where Japanese people get their awareness and appreciation for the changing seasons. Spring’s delicate blooms slip through our fingers, exploding into the almost unbearable lushness of summer, which just as quickly burns away under autumn’s fiery gaze before withering into the harsh serenity of winter. Nothing lasts, yet it is no less beautiful for its impermanence. 

There is perhaps no other country as in tune with the minute shifts in nature throughout the year, so much so that the Japanese have not just four main seasons but a staggering seventy-two micro seasons to describe the almost imperceptible changes occurring outside our windows. This deep attention to nature and its cycles is embodied by ikebana - where the blossoms and branches used are always hyper-seasonal. As the individual characteristics of a flower guide the arrangement, so too does the ever-changing features of the outdoor landscape.

                                  

An ikebana arrangement at the "Fallen Persimmon House" in Arashiyama

Ikebana is more than just arranging flowers in a pleasing way. It is a meditative practice often done in silence. And while my class with Keiko-san was more lighthearted than serious (I got the chance to meet a super fun Japanese girl named Hina who is headed to Tokyo to work in film production!), I definitely got a glimpse into the sort of patient, meticulous mindset you need to truly appreciate and practice this art form.

Ikebana has strict rules on placement and angle, but ultimately these boundaries allow for experimentation that I never would have considered if I were totally winging it. It's necessary sometimes for art to have rules and for budding artists to understand those tried and true principles of what makes something balanced and beautiful. Despite this rigidity, the three of us in Keiko-san’s class all ended up with unique arrangements. The attention to detail so embedded in ikebana allowed those subtle differences to bloom even more profoundly, guided by a thousand year old practice in which even a beginner can create something beautiful.

                                          

A small shrine with a flower offering - not exactly ikebana but reminiscent!

Some sources for more info:

https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/everything-you-need-to-practice-ikebana
https://www.ikenobo.jp/english/about/history.html#his03
https://matcha-jp.com/en/22085