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Three tea stories (2) — Chinese Paradise

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The stories I am telling here have few historical background. They are merely legends decorated by my imagination.    Just like anything that belongs to a fantasy of the past, they are as true as one would like them to be. But it is sometimes so comforting that a story could be true that it does not matter if it really is or not. The celestial pavillon It is said that in ancient times, the Chinese literati used to meet in very remote pavilions, somewhere at the back of a mountain. The path leading to it could be very perilous. Many hours   of walk and great dangers awaited the courageous mandarin. But eventually, shortly behind a cliff or a bambou forest, he was discovering a lonesome hut with a view on the sky or a lake. Entering the place, the literati leaves behind any political or personal feud. The world of men has been temporarily suspended. Only the open hearts and high minds remain. Participants hold a giant brush made of yack hair. They use it to chase away th

Three tea stories (1) — The buddhist drug

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The stories I am telling here have few historical background. They are merely legends decorated by my imagination.   Just like anything that belongs to a fantasy of the past, they are as true as one would like them to be. But it is sometimes so comforting that a story could be true that it does not matter if it really is or not. The buddhist drug It is said that Bodhidharma, father of the Chan buddhism, decided one day to meditate for nine years in front of a wall without sleep. Nevertheless, one day, his eyelids got heavy and he eventually closed them. When He woke up, he was extremely mad at himself. So as to not reproduce the same mistake, he tear his eyelids and threw them on the ground. From that same ground the first tea tree was bon. Bodhidharma’s disciples turned it into a drink by grounding the leaves and served it to the master. Hence, never again did he got sleepy during meditation. In the Chinese temples of the Chan sect (Zen in Japan), tea powder became

Japan's essentials (are not a thing)

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Some notes before I go to Awaji island. Since at least Napoleon III in France and the Jesuit missions, Japan has attracted the westerners’ eyes. It is also a country that likes to be looked at. One rarely meets a German that always say « Now that is very German ! ». Meanwhile, there is always some Japanese person (or a « Japafan ») that keeps on saying stuffs like « That is very Japanese, this is the real / true Japan ! ». To all these adepts of the land of the rising sun, one should not only learn Japanese, but also learn Japan . The myth of a knowledgable Japan In What is called thinking ? , Martin Heidegger wrote :  «  What does it mean to learn ? It means that what we are doing and not doing is the echo of the revelation each time of the essential. We learn thinking by noticing what needs to be kept in the thought.  »  (fair warning : it’s my super rough translation form French here.) Long story short : to learn, it is to preserve the essential and

An old lesson about relaxation

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Camellia sinensis traumans — Scaring tea Tea ceremony today is often seen as a stiff traditionnal art, stressing, proud and stuffed with so many rules that an Emperor would barely follow…long story short : it’s a snobish art. Because of that and some other things, it also became a gramps arts. Recently, as I was talking to a australo-japanese girl, I mentioned that I practiced tea ceremony. She then replied with a mocking tone : « my [ Japanese ] grandma would love it. » Here is another story : as I was talking to two experienced students of my tea school in Japan about what we felt when doing tea, they both replied : « I feel fear. » There is no abuse of tea, but there are abusive practices of it. I said before that the multiplication of rules in tea ceremony certainly made it more beautiful. But it also produce more anxiety. And it was not always like that. Recently, I went through some interesting pictures of tea ceremonies taken at the beginning of the

To inhabit and to leave

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Pay respect to the place Almost two years ago, I started to study the tea ceremony. More than a study, it became a practical, aesthetic and even ethical question. I practiced in my tea master’s pavillon but also in many places without any tools : in the Parisian subway, in a park of Omotesando or even at the top of a temple in Ayutthaya, Thailand. One of the very first versions of the tea room Soon, my room in Paris was emptied of any superfluous thing. I put some mats on the floor and then tatamis. A woodboard served as a tokonoma (alcove), some other woodboards were there to hide a plug in the wall. I had the leisure of thinking every single detail in the place.  Now, I would like to pay my respect to this space. It is the room where I grew up and never quite felt at home. I tried to make it into a personal space, one in which I could welcome my friends as I would like them to welcome me. No place had me question so much what « to inhabit » means.

The art of offering time

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In tea ceremony, slowness is much appreciated. The host must have a perfect knowledge of what s/he is doing, use items with care and treat guests with respect. One may think that it is merely an choreographic aesthetic. But I think that what is at stake is related to a certain definition of « the virtuous man » that one can find all around the globe. Gift as a virtue a Zen monk from Sasama village Wether these men are priests or warriors, wizards or beggars, many men from different culture share the ability to give without any fear of the futur. Hence Saint-Martin whom, in the depht of the desperate freeze of winter, gives half of his coat to a hobo. In the same way, there is this buddhist tale of a Zen monk whom, as he meets a thief in his house, seeing that he is depressed by the rather minimalist decoration, offers him his robe and his food while sighting : « I wish I could give you the moon ». Pierre Clastres teaches us that the same goes in some American indian

Setsu Junji — Between clay and mind

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When I was still in Japan, I encountered the amazing work of Setsu Junji at Robert Yellin yakimono gallery . Rarely have I been so moved by a work of art. These poems were written about a vase that look a lot like the one on the picture. I hope that this unique picture and these few lines will be enough to bring to the gallery where you can see the artist's works in flesh...I mean clay. (c) R. Yellin As the black stain swarms in white absentia, its very own matter wavers between ink, smoke and cloud. Yet, this moment, beyond reality and abstraction, exists here as clay and slip, with no prior nor after movement. The dance of the shape is still — still, in the silence of time. ** *  The black shape is a teaching about our mind. It is like a thought stain on the white uncertain sheet of consciousness, never lingering in one place and laying in its whole width at the instant it goes through. Wide elds of monotony, tricked escapes and unsought paths

Chakaiki — A new invitation to wanderings

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After our last firing, Sasaki-sensei and I prepared tea together. In ancient times, tea people would write down records of their tea ceremonies and of the most important pieces they saw. It was called a chakaiki . This is a modern chakaiki with pictures and commentaries. Tokonoma — white boats and blue beauties All of this trip was made possible thanks to the help of Alex Kerr, a famous american writer in love with Japan and expert in —at least— calligraphy. As Sasaki’s friend, he accepted me in his old house full of treasures, only forty minutes by bicycle from the workshop —and that was the closest house ! My legs will certainly remember the seven endlessly uphill kilometers that I had to ride every morning in the mountains. But my heart will surely also remember Alex Kerr’s generosity. Before I left the house, Mr. Kerr offered me one of his calligraphy. He signs his works instead of using a stamp — I think that is his way of playing between Western and Eastern trad

World creation by Sasaki Kyoshitsu

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Sasaki during our last firing at Shoraku About two weeks ago, I asked Sasaki-sensei to make two tea bowls. The first one had to be made for his personal use, the second for his family. None of them should be made to be sold. What did he understood of my words ? I have no idea. Nevertheless, he started to make four bowls… Later, he would explain that it was a way to make sure that at least two would survive…but each bowl he made was different. One of these tea bowls will be my « ceramic » conclusion to this internship. Master’s style Sasaki-sensei il a smiling and sweet man, convivial and fond of bright colors. He loves shiny green glazes, chalk white shoes and the Japanese tapas bars where saké is overflowing.   A black or a red raku tea bowl is not exactly the perfect expression of his character. One can feel it in Sasaki’s works. His creations alternate between classic dark/red and colorful essays. Sasaki's tea bowls Before our last firing, I th

The dialectic between the master and the potter

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Reaching the end This is the end of my experience.  On the 2nd of August, I went up in the mountain one last time, to Shoraku workshop.   Right in front of me, Sasaki-sensei fired the pieces that I asked him to design for his family. Then I had to choose the pieces I would bring back to Paris…or somewhere else…and we made tea together, one last time, with our tea bowls still burning hot. Why did I decide to make this trip ? Why ceramic again ? This question never left me. Freedom of the slave Hegel said that the master think s/he is free because the slave obeys him but that, in fact, the slave learns to act on the world itself while the master is everyday more dependent him/her. The dialectic between the master and the slave is, among other things, that the one that is at first deprived of freedom is in fact getting more freedom that the one that thinks that s/he is free. Tea masters buy ceramics that they never make. They organize items that

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