When I was a kid I used to be a bookworm. When I am really absorbed in reading, I become one with the book. On one memorable afternoon, I read four thick books in a row, after borrowing them from the library.
One of my favorite pastimes is to lay myself on the sofa, and keep reading the books, preferably on a lazy summer afternoon. As I am too much occupied nowadays, I cannot indulge myself in this sweet marriage with the imagined and fictional, much to my regret.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Deprivation.
I went to the performance of "Hansel and Gretel" of Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku 2009.
The first time I heard live music under Seiji Ozawa's conducting was when I went to a Salome performance with my mother in the suburbs of Tokyo. The music by Richard Strauss was played with fire and full of passion. I became an instant fan.
Ever since, I have been listening to Ozawa when I had a chance. One of the most memorable occasions was when I attended the performance of the Saito Kinen Orchestra conducted by Seiji Ozawa, in the Queen Elizabeth hall. I was studying in Cambridge then, and took the train to the King's Cross railway station in London.
Listening to Hansel and Gretel, I thought about how deprivation nurtured fantasy. Hansel and Gretel are very poor. They cannot get anything other than dry bread. Water is the only drink they come by. When Gretel is fortunate to get some milk from a neighbor, her mother accidentally spills it, breaking the new jar. Angrily. the mother tells Hansel and Gretel to pick up some berries in the forest.
The valley of deprivation is very deep for the boy and girl. Because of that, in a contrast, the dreamlike fantasy of angels that guard Hansel and Gretel's troubled sleep in the night forest becomes shining and rewarding.
Deprivation is the mother of the arts. A great artist can see deprivation even in a situation when there is peace on surface and materialistic abundance everywhere. The artist's soul can identify and then fulfill a spiritual void.
The first time I heard live music under Seiji Ozawa's conducting was when I went to a Salome performance with my mother in the suburbs of Tokyo. The music by Richard Strauss was played with fire and full of passion. I became an instant fan.
Ever since, I have been listening to Ozawa when I had a chance. One of the most memorable occasions was when I attended the performance of the Saito Kinen Orchestra conducted by Seiji Ozawa, in the Queen Elizabeth hall. I was studying in Cambridge then, and took the train to the King's Cross railway station in London.
Listening to Hansel and Gretel, I thought about how deprivation nurtured fantasy. Hansel and Gretel are very poor. They cannot get anything other than dry bread. Water is the only drink they come by. When Gretel is fortunate to get some milk from a neighbor, her mother accidentally spills it, breaking the new jar. Angrily. the mother tells Hansel and Gretel to pick up some berries in the forest.
The valley of deprivation is very deep for the boy and girl. Because of that, in a contrast, the dreamlike fantasy of angels that guard Hansel and Gretel's troubled sleep in the night forest becomes shining and rewarding.
Deprivation is the mother of the arts. A great artist can see deprivation even in a situation when there is peace on surface and materialistic abundance everywhere. The artist's soul can identify and then fulfill a spiritual void.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Sentimental value
In the small house that I rented in Cambridge, there was an old wooden chair. I used to sit on them in the evening, sipping beer and watching the swallow in the sky.
"This chair has a sentimental value for me", said the University Professor who rented me the house. "You see, my father made it for me when I was kid".
There is something about the human brain's ability to comprehend and learn language which is quite extraordinary. It was the first time that I heard the expression "sentimental value" used in this particular context, and the meaning was immediately clear. The term has stayed with me, and the memory sometimes returns to me as if in a flash, the enigmatic moment when I first came across this expression of the English language.
We attach a sentimental value to many things in life. Most of the time it is an object. With dynamic, moving things of life, it is often difficult to capture and assign a sentimental value to it.
We do sometimes succeed. For example, I remember vividly how when I was about eight I came across a huge tree where literally tens of common bluebottles (Graphium sarpedon) gathered. This particular species is not uncommon, but I have never seen them in such an abundance before or ever afterwards.
It was in the backyard hill of my relative, in my mother's native island of Kyushu. The forest that covered the hill is now lost, turned into a huge housing project.
The fact that the environment which nurtured it would never return adds fuel and sparkling to the sentimental value of this memory. I treasure it like a gemstone of bygone days.
"This chair has a sentimental value for me", said the University Professor who rented me the house. "You see, my father made it for me when I was kid".
There is something about the human brain's ability to comprehend and learn language which is quite extraordinary. It was the first time that I heard the expression "sentimental value" used in this particular context, and the meaning was immediately clear. The term has stayed with me, and the memory sometimes returns to me as if in a flash, the enigmatic moment when I first came across this expression of the English language.
We attach a sentimental value to many things in life. Most of the time it is an object. With dynamic, moving things of life, it is often difficult to capture and assign a sentimental value to it.
We do sometimes succeed. For example, I remember vividly how when I was about eight I came across a huge tree where literally tens of common bluebottles (Graphium sarpedon) gathered. This particular species is not uncommon, but I have never seen them in such an abundance before or ever afterwards.
It was in the backyard hill of my relative, in my mother's native island of Kyushu. The forest that covered the hill is now lost, turned into a huge housing project.
The fact that the environment which nurtured it would never return adds fuel and sparkling to the sentimental value of this memory. I treasure it like a gemstone of bygone days.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Criticism in action.
Some time ago, I was talking with the curator Yuko Hasegawa. We were discussing the nature of criticism, a necessary element in evaluating works of contemporary art, which is Yuko's field of expertise.
"When I look at a piece and do not like it, I simply move on", Yuko said.
"I walk and look, and keep moving on, saying this is not it. Then, once in a while, I come across a marvelous piece that really shakes my soul. Then I say to myself, here it was."
Yuko's method of criticism in action fits me. Criticism is not about having the last word. It is about living, actively searching, making discoveries, and accepting.
With Yuko Hasegawa
"When I look at a piece and do not like it, I simply move on", Yuko said.
"I walk and look, and keep moving on, saying this is not it. Then, once in a while, I come across a marvelous piece that really shakes my soul. Then I say to myself, here it was."
Yuko's method of criticism in action fits me. Criticism is not about having the last word. It is about living, actively searching, making discoveries, and accepting.
With Yuko Hasegawa
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Erdos number
I met with the Hungary born mathematician Peter Frankl for a radio program at NHK
Peter is a fascinating character. He is also known for his juggling acts. He said he started practicing for street performances as juggling was more visible to people. Mathematical problems are notoriously difficult to come across.
While discussing, Peter casually mentioned that he has written several papers with Paul Erdos. "Are, you are Erdos number one, then!" I exclaimed. So far in my life, the smallest Erdos number that I encountered was three.
"As Paul Erdos is sadly no longer with us," Peter said, "it is now impossible to become Erdos number one any more".
My only hope is that if I write a paper with Peter Frankl, I would get Erdos number two. Peter said he was working on a paper on quasi-random graphs. My Ph.D. thesis was on an application of graphic transformation.
As I left the studio, the shining smile of Peter Frankl remained with me, to illuminate and inspire.
With Peter Frankl in the NHK studio.
Peter is a fascinating character. He is also known for his juggling acts. He said he started practicing for street performances as juggling was more visible to people. Mathematical problems are notoriously difficult to come across.
While discussing, Peter casually mentioned that he has written several papers with Paul Erdos. "Are, you are Erdos number one, then!" I exclaimed. So far in my life, the smallest Erdos number that I encountered was three.
"As Paul Erdos is sadly no longer with us," Peter said, "it is now impossible to become Erdos number one any more".
My only hope is that if I write a paper with Peter Frankl, I would get Erdos number two. Peter said he was working on a paper on quasi-random graphs. My Ph.D. thesis was on an application of graphic transformation.
As I left the studio, the shining smile of Peter Frankl remained with me, to illuminate and inspire.
With Peter Frankl in the NHK studio.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Royal family
I attended the rehearsals for the opera "Hansel and Gretel" by Humperdinck. The conductor was Seiji Ozawa.
The rehearsals were held for the upcoming performances of the Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku 2009.
During the intermission, just before the General Probe for the third act, I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Graham Clark , who sang the part of the witch. Marianne Wachter was with us.
Graham has appeared as Mime in Bayreuth for many years. "The atmosphere was quite special", Graham said. "We used to have curtain calls for 40 or 50 minutes. It is Walhall. People make a pilgrimage to Bayreuth to come to close encounters with the great tradition".
"It is the only family opera house left in Europe", Marianne said.
"The Wagner family, in a sense, is the only Royal family in Germany", said Graham. "It is certainly the most important family", Marianne said.
"It is not easy to see all these if you don't live in the German speaking world".
The time came for Graham to sing. In a moment, the gentleman transformed himself into the witch and stormed onto the stage.
The rehearsals were held for the upcoming performances of the Seiji Ozawa Ongakujuku 2009.
During the intermission, just before the General Probe for the third act, I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Graham Clark , who sang the part of the witch. Marianne Wachter was with us.
Graham has appeared as Mime in Bayreuth for many years. "The atmosphere was quite special", Graham said. "We used to have curtain calls for 40 or 50 minutes. It is Walhall. People make a pilgrimage to Bayreuth to come to close encounters with the great tradition".
"It is the only family opera house left in Europe", Marianne said.
"The Wagner family, in a sense, is the only Royal family in Germany", said Graham. "It is certainly the most important family", Marianne said.
"It is not easy to see all these if you don't live in the German speaking world".
The time came for Graham to sing. In a moment, the gentleman transformed himself into the witch and stormed onto the stage.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Mt. Fuji
I live in Tokyo. I travel on the Shinkansen (bullet train) to the western cities (e.g. Nagoya, Kyoto, and Osaka) of Japan quite often. In a particularly busy week last year I traveled to and from the Kansai region four times within seven days. Shinkansen is quite indispensable.
When I was a kid, traveling on the Shinkansen was a magical experience. As the train leaves the Tokyo station, and passes through Odawara and Atami, I would start looking expectantly through the window, waiting for Mt. Fuji to emerge in its magnificent appearance.
Mt. Fuji is quite arguably the most fascinating and awe-inspiring mountain in Japan, and looking at the rocky apparition was the highlights of my travels in childhood.
Nowadays I am busy doing this and that on the train, and rarely gaze at Mt. Fuji for a prolonged time. The trains are now equipped with WiFi. Otherwise I am deep asleep, and do not notice the passage of the heavenly mountain.
Even on these prosaic days I do sometimes glance at the most famous mountain in Japan, and the magic of childhood days returns to this insensitive soul.
When I was a kid, traveling on the Shinkansen was a magical experience. As the train leaves the Tokyo station, and passes through Odawara and Atami, I would start looking expectantly through the window, waiting for Mt. Fuji to emerge in its magnificent appearance.
Mt. Fuji is quite arguably the most fascinating and awe-inspiring mountain in Japan, and looking at the rocky apparition was the highlights of my travels in childhood.
Nowadays I am busy doing this and that on the train, and rarely gaze at Mt. Fuji for a prolonged time. The trains are now equipped with WiFi. Otherwise I am deep asleep, and do not notice the passage of the heavenly mountain.
Even on these prosaic days I do sometimes glance at the most famous mountain in Japan, and the magic of childhood days returns to this insensitive soul.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Aerial dance
Yesterday, I was giving lectures at University of Osaka.
Walking along the street, I saw two common bluebottle (Graphium sarpedon) butterflies in the sky. They kept flying, chasing each other.
After a while, one of them began circling around the other. The movement was quite rapid. The circle was completed more than once a second, approximately.
I was fascinated by this elegant and dynamic display of behavior. It must be written in the genetic code. Generations after generations have performed this aerial dance without knowing how or why.
Walking along the street, I saw two common bluebottle (Graphium sarpedon) butterflies in the sky. They kept flying, chasing each other.
After a while, one of them began circling around the other. The movement was quite rapid. The circle was completed more than once a second, approximately.
I was fascinated by this elegant and dynamic display of behavior. It must be written in the genetic code. Generations after generations have performed this aerial dance without knowing how or why.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Symbolization
"Kaen-doki" ("Fire flame earthenwares") are found in various part of Japan, and are estimated to have been made 4000 to 5000 years ago. Some fine specimen of these vessels with magnificent ornamentation are registered as National Treasures of Japan, and as such, are the oldest members of this genre.
Several years ago, I had an opportunity to observe one particularly fine fire flame vessel in Tokamachi . I was impressed by the abstract expression of the fire flames figures.
Nobody is sure that these patterns actually represent fire flames, given that there were no letters to record and convey the significance in those period. Yet, as one admires the ornamentation, one is brought into the strange realm of symbolization of the dancing flames, now twisted and now straight, ever changing, but remaining eternal in essence.
I can almost imagine myself watching the fire flames at night in those ancient times. Surrounded by the menacing darkness, the fire flames must have appeared to be the symbol of our earthly existence itself.
A fire flame earthenware.
Several years ago, I had an opportunity to observe one particularly fine fire flame vessel in Tokamachi . I was impressed by the abstract expression of the fire flames figures.
Nobody is sure that these patterns actually represent fire flames, given that there were no letters to record and convey the significance in those period. Yet, as one admires the ornamentation, one is brought into the strange realm of symbolization of the dancing flames, now twisted and now straight, ever changing, but remaining eternal in essence.
I can almost imagine myself watching the fire flames at night in those ancient times. Surrounded by the menacing darkness, the fire flames must have appeared to be the symbol of our earthly existence itself.
A fire flame earthenware.
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