Artists reinterpret ancient tea ritual

Artists reinterpret ancient tea ritual

Carla Bianpoen, Contributor, Jakarta

There has been much talk about culture and tradition, and the
debate on the pros and cons remains central despite these
uncertain times.

More constructive and effective, perhaps, are efforts
exploring transcendental values that enrich contemporary life in
a universal manner.

This is what the fascinating exhibition, The New Way of Tea,
in New York is apparently all about. Organized by the Asia
Society and the Japan Society in collaboration with the
International Chadou Cultural Organization, and displayed until
May 19 at two locations, the exhibition explores the Japanese tea
ceremony from a contemporary perspective.

To this end, traditional concepts are juxtaposed with
contemporary designs.

Displays at the Japan Society show traditional teahouses,
utensils and calligraphic screens, while those at the Asia
Society focus on contemporary perspectives.

If it was not for Chinese emperor Shen Nong 5,000 years ago,
the world may never have had any notion of tea today. As legend
has it, in 2737 B.C. some tea leaves accidentally blew into a pot
of boiling water prepared for the emperor and his entourage who
were resting in a forest.

Instead of throwing it away and filling the pot with fresh
water, the emperor felt an urge to try some of the liquid that
had taken a brownish color. And behold! The emperor felt so
refreshed, he recommended everyone take a sip.

Since then, the drink we now call tea, has spread not just
throughout Chinese culture but around the world. And what is
more, tea was found to enhance religious meditation, and became a
meditative aid, particularly in Zen Buddhism.

It was this form of tea ceremony that Zen Buddhist
missionaries would later introduce to imperial Japan.
Instrumental to this was monk Esei, the founder of Japan's Rinzei
sect of Zen Buddhism, who in the late 12th century returned from
China and brought tea plants to Japan, where it received almost
instant imperial sponsorship. The drink spread rapidly from the
royal court and monasteries to other sections of Japanese
society.

The practice of drinking tea rose to the fore, evolving from
just a pastime among the aristocracy and military elite into a
ritualized event, an art form and cultural event that became
known as Cha-no-yu (the hot water for powdered tea), considered
to recharge both one's body and soul.

Harmony, respect, purity and tranquility are important
elements. The basic philosophy of Cha-no-yu was class-defying and
was, therefore, also practiced by warriors and merchants.

A tearoom is a physical representation of this cultural
sphere. In its traditional format, a tearoom consists of a small
cottage constructed mainly of wood and bamboo.

A small room, with space for no more than five guests, it has
almost no permanent ornamentation. All architectural elements --
a lattice window, bamboo beams, an exposed natural wood column,
tatami straw mats, and so forth -- are basic and simple.

The host of the tea gathering ceremony prepares everything in
advance to "set the stage". The purification of all elements that
enter the world of tea, including the garden with the roji (a
narrow path leading to a tearoom), the tearoom, and the tea
utensils, is the most important part of preparation.

Defined by the environment and inseparable from the myriad of
meanings embodied within various elements that surround it, the
tearoom invites the guest to rid one's self of worldly concerns
through the roji. In this transitional space one leaves behind
all the stifling conventions that obstruct one's experience of
life at its fullest.

Atsushi Kitagaware conceived the display at the Asia Society.
A tunnel made from rice paper at the entrance to the exhibition
shows the way of tea. It's an abstraction of the traditional
notion of the pathway to the teahouse.

The exhibition comprises one tea space and four teahouses of
contemporary design, of which the tea space and one teahouse are
specially commissioned for the Chinese avant-garde artist Wenda
Gu and Korean artist Jae Eun Cho.

Reinterpreting the concepts of the tea ritual suggests a
thorough knowledge of the culture and the philosophy behind the
tea ceremony. In a fascinating manner, each has taken a specific
focus.

Kitagawara's Mid air House, for instance, articulates the
metaphysical, omitting all forms but using such untraditional
materials as Plexiglas and wires in addition to wood.

Conventionally, the spiritual exchange between the host and
the guest rely on certain forms -- the formality of the utensils,
ornamentation, and the gestures -- to be manifested.

In Kitagawara's interpretation, however, omitting forms leads
to the thorough contemplation of the exchange process itself.

Both the meditation and the value of the actual exchange are
also highlighted in the late Ikko Tanaka's Long Abode, which
transforms the table space into a bridge that organically unites
the space of the host and that of the guest.

In the artist's vision, the meditative atmosphere inside the
tearoom allows the guest to imagine and contemplate on the life
cycle of a fallen tree in the deepest of woods.

Takashi Sugimoto's Tea House uses scrap metal from factories
in Japan and England. Although following the traditional system
of a tea house, its material and punctured walls make it appear
like an iron cage.

The work of Jae Eun Cho, the Korean artist living in Japan,
who is known for her installation works that draw on traditional
garden designs and ikebana (the Japanese art of flower
arranging), refers to contemplations during the process toward
the tea ceremony.

Her gravity-defying design constructed of Plexiglas and sand
embodies the image of water in constant flow. Forms of eddying
water emerge through arranging the walls at asymmetrical angles,
while a vase in the center of the tearoom evokes Lao-tzu's image
of a vase filled with water.

"Treat the fullest vase as empty, and it will not dry in use,"
says Lao-tzu in The Book of Change.

Installation artist Wenda Gu's Tea Alchemy work, however, is a
complete re-invention of the tea culture, a process likening a
"reincarnation". In an interview with Melissa Chiu, Gu says his
work attempts to reveal the mystery of tradition. Perhaps we
should add "and the thrill of the future".

Black lacquered fine bamboo screens used to make paper with
subtly visible Chinese characters build up a temple-like
structure. Each embroidered Chinese character on the bamboo
screens is formed from two characters cha (tea) and shu (alchemy)
which makes the watermarks in the tea paper. This is only visible
when standing in front of the installation.

Visitors are not allowed to walk inside, but a large opening
in the screen allows the audience to see the work.

Classical re-colored accordion books made with tea leaves
cover the floor except for a central space where green tea powder
falls from the mechanical sifter on the ceiling. Tea in this
installation goes through different stages of transformation:
from powder falling from above to a mound forming on the floor,
from the embroidered characters to the grain of the paper, and
from a visible green substance to invisible fragrance. In each
state of being, the identity of tea is traceable.

Although visitors can only have a peep inside the space, they
are spiritually inspired as the solemn mood and the overwhelming
tea fragrance takes hold of them.

Gu used a staggering 30,000 sheets of tea (rice) paper made
out of 4,000 ponds of green tea and 100 ponds of green tea powder
for his installation.