soba gone

We went to Nara during the New Year, which everyone told us not to do. It would be too crowded, they predicted, with people attending to the last rites of the dying year, and it was.

Which is not to say we were sorry we went.

Nara is a great Shinto center, and we fell directly in with the crowds as they worked their way up the mountain, passing shrines and countless lanterns, pushing through people who were pressing against others. Near the top we broke away and wandered the trails, pausing to peer at the faithful in their administrations before the colorful Kagami Mochi -- rice cake and tangerine treats offered up to the gods in exchange for divine favor.

The farther we pressed into the forest the thinner the crowds became until at last we were walking alone -- and feared we might we lost.

As we debated whether we should double back the trees thinned and the trail descended to a public road. There was nothing to the left or to the right, but directly before us there was a small restaurant, with a sign scratched out in English, for lost English speaking tourists like ourselves.

We stepped out of the January chill and into the warmth. I sat on a cushion before the low tea table and ordered cold soba, which I suspect I had had before and knew to be delicious, or else I wouldn’t have ordered cold food on a cold day after a long walk.



The buckwheat noodles were served on a bamboo matt suspended over a plate. The boiled soba had been shocked in a cold water bath just prior to serving, and the design was meant to allow the last of the water to drain off. I dunked the noodles bite by bite into the fish-rich sauce, and knew to wait once the soba was gone for the waitress to come with the cooking water, which she poured into the remnants of the sauce and expected me to drink.

I can’t recall if I did, but I do remember that chocolate cake and the coffee came next. Incongruous, all of it, and absolutely perfect.

kansei

Kansei is manifested in three ways. The first is the expression (hyojo) of an object, or its appearance. This includes color, texture, material, and surface treatments: all the qualities visible to the eye.

The second is the creator’s gesture or intent (dosa), or the body’s physical responses to the object. These become apparent upon using or touching the object—how it feels in the hand and how its fragility or strength dictates one’s movements.

Finally, there is the heart (kokoro)—the emotions an object stirs. This psychological dimension is the most abstract, but it’s also the most prized by Japanese designers, who speak of the feelings of recognition, attachment, or playfulness that an object elicits in its user, perhaps because it functions so well or is pleasant to look at.

From Metropolis + Japan, a special supplement to the December 2009 issue of Metropolis

Photo: Takayama Wood Works

colorful logic

underground / overground
Originally uploaded by bobby stokes

We know there is no scientific proof that blue lights will help deter suicides. But if blue has a soothing effect on the mind, we want to try it to save lives.

Keihin Railway spokesman, Osamu Okawa on the decision of the East Japan Railway to spend about $165,000 to install blue lights at all of the Yamanote line stations in an effort to soothe and reduce the suicide rate among passengers, as reported in this morning's New York Times.

Suicides in Japan are trending upward and are expected to exceed the 2003 record of 34,427 deaths. Six percent of Japanese suicides are committed on the rail lines.

Posting this because I was struck by the tender sweet poignancy [1] of the East Japan Railway's action. The only indication that installing blue lights over platforms might have some impact is the assumption that the color blue has a soothing effect on people. There's no consideration given to context: is it the blue itself, or is it the sky, the ocean -- which happen to be blue -- that soothe?

Can blue lights in the close confines of the railway station soothe my troubled soul the way the wide open sky and the vast sea can place my problems in perspective and give me a reason to hold on a little while longer? Maybe not forever, but maybe for today?

There's no knowing, but lives are at stake, and the good people of the East Japan Railway are going to give it a shot.


[1] Yes of course: it's almost certain that revenue concerns are driving this action as much as compassion -- after all it costs a great deal of money to stop incoming trains and clean the tracks if the unhappy event occurs; comparatively, $165K may be a small drop in the bucket.

chindogu

chindogu, n. "Queer Tools". A term popularized by Kenji Kawakami whose hundreds of intentionally and impractical inventions have won him international attention as Japan's answer to Rube Goldberg.

From this morning's New York Times piece: Fearing Crime, Japanese Wear the Hiding Place. The online version of the story is accompanied by a photo slideshow of the anxiety-ridden apparel designed by Aya Tsukioka that enables women to hide as vending machines, children to hide as fire hydrants, and valuables to masquerade as manhole covers.

What the New York Times neglects to reveal is that the designer, Aya Tsukioka, is an artist. Her work is referenced elsewhere online -- here's a piece from 2004 »