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.