Happily, the snow that has fallen this week has blanketed our woods again.
Getting out to walk on our trails with Quinn has provided a welcome reprieve from the relative visual cacophony of pattern and color I’ve been immersed in while working on this latest cup and saucer piece. I’ve long been an avid fan of the traditionally quiet Japanese aesthetic with its subtle contrasts and expanses of open space, which probably explains why a snowy landscape represents a such a welcome counter-balance, not just to working with pattern for hours at a time, but also, theoretically, to the hectic realities of life as we all know it.
A couple of years ago I wrote a post about February’s inherently restrained character and was gratified to hear from quite a few of my Vermont friends that they too welcome this season as a time for regrouping, of calm reflection, and as a period all the richer for its subdued identity. If you live with winter for a large chunk of each year, there’s an element of self-preservation in figuring out what gifts you can glean from it.
But in thinking more about the appeal of winter’s sparseness, I did a bit of research on the idea of unadorned beauty. I came across a fascinating lecture by haiku poet Madoka Mayuzumi entitled “Japan’s Culture of Silence”. It goes a long way toward explaining, especially in relation to haiku, the significance of an “aesthetic of reduction”. Haiku invites the reader into the poet’s world, relying as much on the blank spaces incurred through its brevity, as it does on the words which comprise each poem. Mayuzumi explains: “We tend to find the greatest beauty on (sic) what is left unsaid, in the rich possibilities of blank space”.
It’s a principle that can be applied to any of the arts.
I’ve always loved winter, so a snow-covered landscape is a welcome seasonal perk…just because. But from an artistic and working viewpoint, there is a lesson in the snow: the importance of finding a balance between maintaining a certain boldness (via composition, pattern, and texture) while remembering to get my point across as simply as possible.
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If this subject interests you, you might enjoy this 2 minute video on the concept of “ma”, which discusses how this aesthetic of reduction is integrated within Japanese culture.
On a Different Note…
If you will be any where near Montpelier on Thursday, February 9, I would encourage you to attend mixed-media art knitter Eve Jacobs-Carnahan’s presentation Art as Action: Knitters Speaking Out. Inspired by the article What It Means To Be An Artist In The Time Of Trump, Eve will discuss and show examples of projects undertaken by art knitters to raise awareness about social and environmental issues.
Art as Action: Knitters Speaking Out
A presentation by Eve Jacobs-Carnahan
Thursday February 9, 2017 6:30 – 8 pm,
Center for Arts and Learning, 2nd floor
46 Barre St. Montpelier, VT 05602
Another thoughtful, inspiring post–thank you! And I have cribbed the quote from Madoka Mayuzumi for my Daily Color quote today. I’ve just finished a temari that has quite a bit of blank space, and I had wondered if that was OK; now I know it is.
You’ve made my day!
Hi Betsy,
I love seeing the image of the cup and saucer. The perspective is totally different than I formerly thought. At crit group, I was busy inspecting all the stitches and totally missed the perspective-looking down on the cup from an elevated point. Or is this created by how you took the photograph? If so, I like the piece being tilted. It adds so much depth and a very interesting composition with perfect balance.
Thanks Judy. Yes, the image of the cup & saucer is from the vantage point of looking down upon them. The photo here was taken at a slight angle (which you can tell because the edges appear at an angle), but it doesn’t distort the viewpoint of the cup & saucer. However, you’re giving me some ideas to explore before framing…