Author: John D. (Page 117 of 202)

Shrines 2) Layout and names

February 20, 2014 / John D. / 0 Comments

Some shrines come in plain wood to harmonise with their surrounds, but not Hayatama Taisha in Kumano with its bold and eye-catching colours

The word jinja is usually translated as “shrine,” and the Buddhist “tera” is translated as “temple.” The shrine is a place of worship where a particular kami or group of kami are said to reside or make themselves manifest when called upon. The jinja generally consists of the shrine grounds (keidai), main hall (honden), worship hall (haiden), path (sando), symbolic entrance gate (torii), and water basin (temizuya).

Shoes off when entering the haiden, or Worship Hall, which can be recognised by the bell ropes hanging before it

The typical jinja includes a small, enclosed space where resides the goshintai, an object of some sort into which the kami descends. It is the most sacred object in the shrine and housed inside the main building (honden). The honden may be joined to a worship hall (haiden), where ceremonies are performed, or it may stand alone.

The buildings may be either simple, unpainted wooden structures or elaborately detailed and decorated ones. They may be in one of a number of traditional styles or any number of variations. Although shrines are distinct from Buddhist temples, there are architectural styles that incorporate aspects of both. Before the Meiji period, large complexes combining shrines and temples were common, but now they are separate entities. They often stand side by side, and small shrines are sometimes found on temple grounds.

Shrine names come from either the name of the kami they enshrine, such as Hachiman or Inari; the place name, such as Ise or Izumo; or, particularly in relation to shrines that worship the same kami, both place and kami names, such as Tsurugaoka Hachimangu or Iwashimizu Hachimangu.

In addition, they have a shago (a word that distinguishes it as a shrine). There are six shago, of which jinja is the most common. Others include gu as in Hakozakigu, taisha as in Suwa Taisha, and daijingu as in Toyouke Daijingu (the outer shrine of Ise). Sha is another reading for the second character used in jinja and is generally used in rank designations (such as taisha—“first rank,” chusha—“second rank,” shosha—“third rank,” etc.).

Miya is another reading of the character for gu, and like sha, it is usually used to designate a type of shrine, such as “mountain shrine” (yamamiya) or “primary shrine of a province” (ichinomiya). Finally, jingu, as in Ise Jingu and Heian Jingu, is used as a term for shrines related to the imperial house. (It is also used for some of those founded during the Meiji period.)

Be that as it may, a jinja is easy to spot, as it will always have a torii standing in front of it.

Where there's a torii, there's a shrine... or in this case a subshrine of Hayatama Taisha honouring Yatagarasu, the three-legged crow

Iwashimizu Hachiman-gu takes its name from the place (Iwashimizu) and the tutelary kami (Hachiman), together with one of the six 'shago' indicating it is a shrine

Shrines 1) Visiting

February 18, 2014 / John D. / 1 Comment

The rather wonderful Kumaso Shrine in the Izumo region, with a Worship Hall (haiden) to the right of the elevated Sanctuary (honden), and a connecting corridor to signify the stairway to heaven

The following is part one of a series on shrines and shrine buildings, abridged and adapted from the Introduction of Shinto Shrines by Joseph Cali and John Dougill (mainly the former, I hasten to add). The book was published by the University of Hawaii Press in 2013. Later extracts will deal with shrine items and architectural forms. This part concerns the nature and purpose of shrine visits.

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What benefit might there be in visiting a shrine for someone who has grown up in another country with different cultural and religious values? There are two particular benefits that come to mind, one of which is of course spiritual. Quite apart from the question of organized religion, a shrine is a place where one can fold one’s hands, bow one’s head, and say a prayer for oneself or a loved one.

Prayer at shrines can simply be a matter of paying respects to the kami

Though there are certain prescribed methods, the question of how or to whom one prays is ultimately a personal matter. When they pray at a shrine, Japanese are not necessarily praying to a specific kami. Indeed, the number of kami in a particular shrine and their actual names are usually unknown to the average worshipper, who may only refer to the kami by the name of the shrine.

A second reason to visit a shrine is for the cultural and recreational aspects. This has long been a traditional part of the Japanese experience as well. Many of the shrines selected for this book are very old and have buildings or grounds that are of historical significance. Most contain, or are designated, National Treasures or Important Cultural Properties. It means that they have a recognized importance in the history of the country or the locality. Some are significant works of architecture and art in their own right. UNESCO’s World Heritage Committee has recognized several shrines (see here), such as Nikko Toshogu and Itsukushima Jinja, as outstanding examples of cultural value and natural beauty worthy of special attention. Many are in stunning settings.

Because the expression of Shinto faith is often in the awe one feels when standing before magnificent features of nature, shrines tend to be set in such places. It is one reason why, even in densely populated areas, the immediate surroundings of a shrine can act as an oasis of greenery. In other cases, the location is remote enough to keep it untouched by urban blight.

The awe-inspiring Kamikura Jinja in Wakayama Prefecture - safe from urban blight!

Unlike great cathedrals and mosques, shrines tend to be modest affairs. Hopefully reading this book will help to appreciate them. Many of the shrines are among the most popular in the nation, which means they are often crowded, especially at peak times of the day and on holidays. If you go to such a shrine anticipating a solemn and silent communion with the spirits, it is better to visit very early in the morning. (Many shrine grounds are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; however, the main buildings and the area immediately around them may only be open during daylight hours.)

It’s hard not to feel the spirituality of a place like Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto, when walking up the mountain paths through the myriad red torii in the early morning. On the other hand, you may want to visit when the shrine is at its busiest, such as New Year’s, or at its most raucous during a festival (matsuri). In that case, the atmosphere reveals a more lively and convivial spirit.

The Japanese have, from ancient times, combined devotion with recreation even to the point of wild abandon—as in the okage mairi (“thanksgiving pilgrimage”) between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries that saw millions literally dancing down the highways on pilgrimage to temples and shrines. However, as a foreigner, it is best to be mindful of the feelings of others, so if you came to take pictures, by all means take them, but respect the fact that some of the places you want to shoot may be off-limits. For example, most of the honden where the kami reside are located behind a fence, making a close view impossible. Hopefully the descriptions in this book of the structures and their history will help to compensate for what can’t be seen.

Shrines can be a gateway into the heart of nature, as here with the torii of Fushimi Inari

Baika-sai (Kitano Tenmangu)

February 17, 2014 / John D. / 0 Comments

Doll representations of Sugawara no Michizane and his wife

The plum blossom festival at Kitano Tenmangu is one of my favourites, partly because it heralds the coming of spring and partly because it is such a bustling affair with an antiques market and tea ceremony served by geisha. The deified kami is the posthumous spirit of Sugawara no Michizane (see here), who died on the 25th of the month, which is why the festival celebrating his favourite plum trees takes place on that date in February. The Kansai Scene article below gives something of ‘the flavour’ of the festival.

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The taking of tea
KS steeps itself in the rites and rituals of ancient Japan…

Text: Bonnie Carpenter • Feb 1, 2014

There are plum trees dotted around the shrine grounds, and a special grove of some 2000 trees where the tea ceremony is held.

Many foreign residents in Japan savour the chance to taste the Japan that was: historical, classical, ancient, removed from the modern clamour of cellphones and the ubiquitous Kitty-chan. An event that embodies so much of the grace and elegance of Japan’s yesteryear is Baika-sai or the Plum Blossom Festival, held yearly on February 25 at Kitano Tenmangu Shrine in Kyoto. This is a most rare opportunity to experience one of the most endearing and enduring of Japan’s cultural icons— geisha —serving tea to the public in an exquisite outdoor tea ceremony.

This event commemorates the death of Michizane Sugawara, a well-known scholar, politician, and plum-blossom aficionado in the Heian era. He was revered as a god of learning and scholastic study, so many students make the pilgrimage to the shrine to pray for success in their high school or university entrance exams.

The festival has been held on the same day every year for about 900 years with the outdoor tea ceremony or nodate, being added in 1952. What makes this event so special is that it is hosted by approximately 30 geiko and maiko, geisha and apprentice geisha, respectively, from the local Kamishichiken area.

The only etiquette required for the ceremony is you must remove and carry your shoes. One can then sit and be served tableside or join the elite sitting on the covered ground where one gets a prime view of an actual tea-making by geisha. You will be served a bowl of hot whipped matcha green tea and small sweet cakes.

Grace and elegance characterise the tea ceremony

Sitting among the blooming reds, pinks and whites of the ume plum blossoms while being served by dainty geisha in formal kimono and white make-up can make one understand the cultural concept of ichi-go ichi-e—one chance, one meeting—which is the feeling best associated with the tea ceremony. A superb Japan moment!

• When to go: The event has a religious service starting at the main shrine at 10am. The tea ceremony is from 10am–3pm.
• Tickets: Official advertising states advance tickets sold only at the shrine are required to participate in the nodate, with tickets going on sale for the first 3,000 people from January 25. But tickets, costing ¥1,500, are also sold on the day of the event and the lines are much shorter after 1pm.
• More fun: For total immersion in old Japan also on Feb 25, Kitano has their monthly flea market where one can buy silk kimono for a bargain price, admire antiques and purchase tasty street food as you shop.

On the 25 of every month a flea market known as Tenjin-san is held, which features food as well as bric-a-brac

Some of the items on sale are antiques or religious artifacts

Some of the stalls are laid out in a manner that is almost an artwork in itself

Sugawara no Michizane (Dazaifu)

February 17, 2014 / John D. / 0 Comments

A purification basin at Dazaiifu Tenmangu near Fukuoka, Kyushu, with plum tree behind. {ANGELES MARIN CABELLO PHOTO}

At this time of year we look forward eagerly to the coming of plum blossom as a harbinger of spring. Plum immediately makes one think of Sugawara no Michizane, who is associated with the tree through poetry and legend. The first Tenmangu shrine dedicated to him was built in his place of exile at Dazaifu in Kyushu. Later Kitano Tenmangu was established to pacify his angry spirit, known as Tenjin. After Hachiman and Inari, Tenmangu shrines are the most widespread in the country, far more numerous than shrines to Amaterasu. The Japan Times article below covers the salient points in the life and deification of the Heian statesman, Sugawara no Michizane (845-903), who was to become one of Japan’s foremost kami.

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Dazaifu dalliance reveals curious case of a plum-struck deity
BY STEVE JOHN POWELL AND ANGELES MARIN CABELLO JAPAN TIMES FEB 15, 2014

In all Japan’s vast pantheon of larger-than- life heroes, few can be more curious than the one encountered there. The saga involves political skullduggery, the supernatural — and a gifted child who became a god. It’s also a story that still inspires thousands of young Japanese who flock to Dazaifu around exam time every year to pray for good results.

It started in Kyoto in 845, during the aristocratically effete Heian Period (794-1185), when Michizane Sugawara was born into a scholarly family with a tradition of service to the Emperor. From an early age he loved plum trees, and at age 5 he wrote this waka: “How beautiful the red plum blossom, I wish to color my cheek with it.”

Plum blossom at Kitano Tenmangu in Kyoto

By age 11, he was composing poetry in Chinese characters, for which he showed an extraordinary talent. He later proved to be a gifted statesman, and rose to a position of influence in the Imperial court, then dominated by the Fujiwara clan.

According to Miki Teicki’s “Short Biographies of Eminent Japanese in Ancient and Modern Times” (1890), when Emperor Daigo ascended the throne in 898, “the retiring Emperor advised him to entrust all important affairs to Michizane because he was first in knowledge and age.”

The Fujiwara clan became jealous and conspired with Minamoto-no-Hikaru, an envious rival at court, to convince the Emperor that Michizane was plotting against him. They succeeded in getting Michizane banished to govern the distant outpost of Dazaifu.

It is said that the great man left Kyoto in tears and bade farewell to his favorite plum tree, writing: “If the east wind blows this way/ Oh blossoms of the plum tree/ Send your fragrance to me/ Never forget the Spring/ Even though your master is no longer here.”

Here’s where it gets a bit like a scene from a Garcia Marquez magical-realism novel. Legend has it that Michizane’s plum tree missed him so much that it uprooted itself and flew to Dazaifu to be with him. This tree, known as the Tobiume (Flying Plum Tree), still stands to the right of the Honden (Main Shrine) at Dazaifu Shrine.

In 903, after less than three years languishing in the sorrowful hardship of exile, Michizane died in Dazaifu, aged 57 — many say of homesickness. His funeral procession consisted of just his loyal follower, Yasuyuki Umasake, and a few neighbors. His coffin was carried on a wagon hauled by an ox. At one point, the ox suddenly lay down and refused to budge. This was taken as a sign, and Michizane was buried where the ox stopped. Today, a bronze statue of the exhausted beast is sited on that spot in the grounds of the shrine. You’ll notice that its horns and head are shiny from the visitors’ custom of stroking them for good luck.

Statues of oxen are common at Tenmangu shrines and are thought to have healing properties

Two years after Michizane’s death, his loyal follower Umasake built the first shrine there. In 919, the Fujiwara clan erected a larger shrine over his grave, but it was burnt down in one of Japan’s civil wars.

Meanwhile, back in Kyoto, in a perfect demonstration of what John Lennon meant when he sang “Instant karma’s gonna get you,” spooky disasters began to strike those who had plotted against Michizane. The Emperor’s palace burned down in fire triggered by lightning. Fujiwara-no-Tokihira, Michizane’s chief rival, died of a mysterious disease. A Fujiwara official was struck dead in a storm. The son of Emperor Uda became so ill he had to retire. Many believed these disasters were caused by Michizane’s wrathful ghost, reeking revenge on those who had cut short his career, and his life.

To appease his spirit, the splendid Kitano Tenmangu shrine was built in his honor near Kyoto. Emperor Ichijo posthumously restored Michizane to his former office and rank and later promoted him to the highest office. Ultimately he was deified and worshipped as a god, under the name of Tenman Dai-jizai Itoku Tenjin — meaning, Heaven-pervading Almighty and All-glorious God. That being a divinely big mouthful, it’s generally shortened to just Tenman Tenjin.

And what can you expect to see at Dazaifu today? Well, the complex begins a mere 250 meters from Dazaifu Station. You first pass under a giant torii spanning the road to the shrine, a long street crammed with traditional-style shops selling Hakata dolls, fans, kimono, bags of dried fish, chikuwa fish cakes and umegae- mochi rice cakes.

Before we even got to the shrine building, the natural beauty of the extensive 35-hectare grounds was soul-inspiring. Tenmangu shrines are characterized by their plum trees, in honor of Michizane’s love of their blossom. At Dazaifu, there are more than 6,000 of them, which makes for a spectacular sight in spring. Ancient kusunoki (camphor) trees there are also there aplenty, including one towering specimen to the left of the shrine.

Angeles fell into conversation with a young miko (shrine maiden) in her white blouse, bright red trousers and long ponytail. She informed us that the colossal camphor is more than 1,000 years old — in which case the Battle of Hastings (1066) wasn’t even a twinkle in some Norseman’s eye back when it first photosynthesized.

One thing you can be sure of - there will always be lots of prayer tablets at Tenmangu shrines begging for exam success

Statues of oxen are another characteristic of Tenmangu shrines, and we made sure to give Dazaifu’s weary bronze bovine a pat for good luck. However, other animal statues abound around the grounds, including ones of birds, deer and, most curious of all, a horse-sized kirin — a fearsome mythological creature which looks like a cross between a lion and a unicorn.

To get to the main shrine you have to cross over the crimson Taikobashi — a two-arched bridge symbolizing past, present and future — which traverses the delightful Shinji Pond that’s shaped like the kanji for shin (heart). Fountains play on the waters, shared by turtles, swans and koi while, to the right, is a tranquil iris pond named Shoubuike. As in all good Japanese gardens, water occupies an integral role in creating a sublimely meditative atmosphere.

Wending our way through this wonderland, we passed through a gate guarded by two giant statues of archers. They are so brightly colored as to look almost jovial compared with the snarly pair of nio (those huge, half-naked musclemen that guard Buddhist temples) which they replaced in the Meiji Era (1868-1912).

Yes, yes, but — I hear you ask — what about the Flying Plum Tree? Well, sure enough, when we finally got to the Main Shrine, there it was to the right — the fabled Tobiume said to have flown here to be with Michizane. That makes it even older than the camphor tree.

Our miko friend assured us that the Tobiume is always the first plum tree to blossom, as early as January each year. To the left of the shrine, meanwhile, stands a another one donated by the mother of Emperor Taisho as an offering for the sickly chap’s recovery.

We threw some coins in the huge offertory box and muttered our wishes before the magnificent shrine, which dates from 1591. With its red columns, gold-leaf patterns and huge, sweeping roof, the gorgeously ornate structure is a stunning example of architecture from that period when warfare raged throughout Japan. Unsurprisingly, it’s now a designated national treasure and the nation’s foremost Tenjin shrine.

Taking in the beatific marvels of Dazaifu Tenmangu, it’s worth remembering that Michizane is celebrated as a man of pure heart. As for those 10th-century disasters, Chinese writer Chiang Yee wrote: “I don’t think Michizane’s spirit caused those calamities, for he showed no grievances during his years of exile.” In fact, as befits the god of learning, he dedicated his exile to study, rather than plotting revenge or harboring hatred. He is still revered as the god of learning, literature and calligraphy. As Miki Teicki wrote: “Scarcely is there a town in which his temple is not seen.” Indeed, in Japan today, there are more than 10,000 Tenmangu shrines dedicated to his deified spirit.

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Dazaifu Tenmangu has a nicely illustrated overview on its English-language website here, with a free brochure which can be downloaded as a PDF.

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Trees of life

February 17, 2014 / John D. / 0 Comments

There’s a rather wonderful sympathetic account of the importance of trees culturally and spiritually to mankind in a BBC podcast, which I recommend. Trees of Life Duration: 18 minutes First broadcast: Friday 14 February 2014

Wood is a vital human resource. But trees inspire myths and reverence. So, Mike Williams asks, why are our feelings about trees so mixed? He hears why every human age is a ‘wood age’, why trees are crucial to social life in African cities, why one New Zealander swapped cutting trees for spending nights in them, and why Danes fear global disease and climate change may lose them their mythical ‘tree of life’.

It includes the tree’s role in mythology and an account of a reformed arborist who gave up chopping down trees to climb and revere them…

It’s only on podcast for a limited time as far as I know, so it’s worth checking out now if you have 18 minutes free.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01rw5hk

The Phoenix Rooster (Ho-o)

February 16, 2014 / John D. / 2 Comments

Detail of the phoenix on the rooftop of Kinkaku-ji, Kyoto's Temple of the Golden Pavilion

One thing I’ve noticed on my visits to shrines and temples is the number of times one comes across the phoenix (ho-o). It’s a popular item on mikoshi (portable shrine), and it stands famously on the top of Kyoto’s Golden Pavilion and the gorgeous Byodo-in south of the city. It’s a legendary bird in the West because of rising from the ashes, and it’s associated with the Greeks and Christianity as a symbol of rebirth. But what of its significance in the East? Here, first of all, is Wikipedia’s take on the matter.

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Wikipedia

Images of an ancient bird have appeared in China for over 8000 years, as earliest as the Hongshan neolithic period, on jade and pottery motifs, then decorating bronze as well as jade figurines. Some believe they may have been a good-luck totem among eastern tribes of ancient China.

Portable shrines have mirrors, torii and invariably a bird or birds on the roof. But why?

During the Han Dynasty (2,200 years ago) two phoenixes, one a male (feng, 鳳) and the other a female (huang, 凰) were often shown together facing one other. Later, during the Yuan Dynasty the two terms were merged to become fenghuang, generally translated as “phoenix”.

Also during this period, the fenghuang (phoenix) was used as a symbol representing the direction south. This was portrayed through a male and female facing each other. Their feathers were of the five fundamental colors: black, white, red, green, and yellow. These colors are said to represent the Confucian five virtues.

The phoenix represented power sent from the heavens to the Empress. If a phoenix was used to decorate a house it symbolized that loyalty and honesty were in the people that lived there. Or alternatively, phoenix only stays when the ruler is without darkness and corruption.

The fenghuang of the Chinese, said to live on the Kunlun mountains, is also called the “August Rooster” (Chinese: 鶤雞; pinyin: kūnjī) with solar symbolism as an animal signalling the dawn sun and since it sometimes takes the place of the Rooster in the Chinese zodiac, it is a symbol with positive connotations, symbolic of high virtue, grace and prosperity.

The Chinese fenghuang was also often portrayed as a male-female yin-yang pair of birds, with the female being an emblem for the Empress. The Chinese regard the phoenix as a rare phenomenon, seen only in times of peace, and symbolizing conjugal bliss.

The Japanese rooster is associated with Amaterasu, and a Phoenix or Rooster often sits on top of the mikoshi during a festival. This identification of the phoenix with another solar symbol and sunbird August-Rooster, suggests another intriguing connection — one with the Hepthalites (alternatively, the Hata clan [immigrants from the continent who settled in many areas, particularly Kyoto].

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The Japanese Mythology and Folklore website, from which the extract below has been adapted, takes a slightly different line by tracing the roots in the Indian subcontinent and an evolution from raptor to rooster. The primacy of Amaterasu and the notion of the phoenix-rooster as a familiar of the sun would thus explain the prevalence of the bird on Shinto mikoshi. But it still leaves me wondering: was the bird first introduced to Japan through continental Buddhism? Did it merge with shamanic notions of birds as messengers of the gods and of humans in trance taking flight? When is a phoenix mythological, and when is it a plain rooster?

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A number of preliminary observations about the early phase in the evolution of the phoenix: The Indo-Iranians seem to have started out with a tale of two birds — two raptor birds – falcon or eagle-hawk types. The etymological cognate Sanskrit śyenaḥ (“raptor, eagle, bird of prey”) also appears as a divine figure. Saēna is also a personal name, which is the root of the name.

Phoenix on a pole at a festival held at Yasui Konpira-gu in Kyoto

The bird icons have to do with fortune, health and wealth or prosperity, including nourishing rain for a bounty of crops. Saena is a rain-bringer (with a role much like a sky- or thunder-deity). The bird is seen as withering the tree in the Bundishne… i.e. scorching the tree and therefore associated with the sun. Therefore, it may have been the origin of the Phoenix as Sunbird.

The evolution of the phoenix as a fertility and healing symbol (eagle) has to do with the top of the Hom Tree. In Korea and Japan, the phoenix’s association with Hom tree shows evident strong influences from the Chinese Han dynasty as well as Iranian or Persian ones, due to Silk Road exchanges and trading activities. Ho-o Bird in Japan originated from Hom?

The idea of a bird as a messenger of the Sky God or sky deities, becomes a cornerstone of the myths of divine kingship or heavenly descent in East Asia, and sacred birds feature prominently in many court-chronicled myths as well as folklore surrounding the royals of Korea and Japan. Genetically and culturally, the Koreans (and lineage-related Japanese) are closely related to ancient North and Northeast Asian populations.

Given that Jewish or Hebrew communities were known to have existed in various parts of China like Kaifeng, Luoyang and elsewhere in South China, we also cannot discount the intriguing possibility that the Japanese phoenix called Ho-o may be derived from a source connected to Jewish (or Jewish-Iranian) priestly lineages because the Rabbis called the phoenix the hol phoenix, the closest etymology for the Japanese phoenix so far.

Statue of a phoenix on sale at the Kitano flea market (Tenjin-san)

Magic mirrors

February 16, 2014 / John D. / 1 Comment

Mirrors play a central part in Shinto, for they are thought to contain the body of the kami. This blog has carried several articles ‘reflecting’ on the special properties of the mirror, and why it would have had a mesmerising effect on bronze-age people. (See here for example.) Recently too we had a feature on the recreation of a magic mirror that might have once belonged to the early empress, Himiko. But what exactly is ‘a magic mirror’?

In its latest online edition, the wonderful Kyoto Journal carries an absorbing article and interview with the last remaining maker of ‘magic mirrors’. Below are extracts; for the more lengthy original article, please see here.

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THE MAGIC MIRROR MAKER

Interview by Jodie Moon with Paul Carty; Translation by Masako Kaidan
Many thanks to Lisa Yamashita Allen for shaping and polishing…

Bronze mirrors
The ancient craft of bronze mirror-making dates back to 2900–2000 BCE in China, Egypt and the Indus Valley. Bronze, a highly-reflective alloy of copper, tin and lead, can be either gold or silver in color. Bronze mirrors became popular and were produced in large quantities during the Han Dynasty (206 BCE–24 AD) in China. Usually circular, they later evolved into a variety of forms, from oblong to octagonal.

Antique bronze mirror from Kokugakuin museum. The back is often decorated with patterns or plant depictions. They were regarded as sacred because they were thought to hold magical properties.

As use of bronze mirrors became widespread in China, the ancient craft of mirror-making spread to neighboring Korea and Japan. The Emperor Cao Rui and the Wei Court of China reputedly gifted numerous bronze mirrors (then known as shinju-kyo in Japan) to Queen Himiko of Wa (Japan). During excavations of the Kurotsuka kofun (tomb) in Nara, archeologists discovered 33 similar bronze mirrors dating to the 3rd-7th centuries.

In ancient Japan, mirrors were especially revered as rare and mysterious objects. In 1339, Chikafusa Kitabatake wrote (in the Jinno Shotoki) that they were seen as a “source of honesty” because they reflect “everything good and bad, right and wrong… without fail.” In fact, one of Japan’s three most important imperial treasures is a sacred mirror called Yata-no-Kagami.

In a story that is central to Japanese mythology, this bronze mirror was key to coaxing Amaterasu Omikami (the Sun Goddess) out from the cave she had retreated to after a skirmish with her younger brother (Susanoo, the Storm God). (While one deity gave an amusing dance performance, another held up the mirror to deceive her into believing there was another goddess who could outshine her). It is believed that Amaterasu resides in the Yata-no-Kagami, housed today in Ise Shrine, off-limits to the public in Mie Prefecture.

In Japan, some bronze mirrors are known as magic mirrors, or makkyo (魔鏡). One side is brightly polished, while an embossed design decorates the reverse side. Remarkably, when light is directed onto the face of the mirror, and reflected to a flat surface, an image magically appears (usually the one featured on its back). While the metal is completely solid, the reflected image gives the impression that it must be in some way translucent. For many centuries, the ‘magic’ of these mirrors baffled both laymen and scientists.

A holy trinity of mirrors in one of Fushimi Inari's countless subshrines

The currently accepted explanation for this phenomenon is that during its construction the mirror’s surface is scraped, scratched, and polished, then coated with an amalgam of mercury, thereby causing stresses and “preferential buckling” into convexities of a scale too small to be observed by the naked eye, but matching the pattern on the back of the mirror.

Kyoto Journal sat down with the man rumored to be the last remaining makkyo maker in the world — Yamamoto Akihisa — and his friend, Yoshida Hisashi. Mr. Yamamoto is descended from a family of mirror makers based in Kyoto. Mr. Yoshida works with Shinto shrines and makes traditional Shinto clothing. They collaborated to organize a fascinating exhibition displaying Mr. Yamamoto’s mirrors in June 2013.

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YAMAMOTO: When devotional mirrors are displayed in Shinto shrines, they are either hidden from the public eye or placed where they can only be seen from the front. At the exhibition I wanted to give people the opportunity to see both sides of the mirror.

Your company’s mirrors go to both Buddhist temples as well as Shinto shrines, however, I heard that you were a Shinto mirror maker. How would you identify or define yourself and your work?

YOSHIDA: While Shinto is the native religion of Japan, we Japanese have been receptive to other religions, particularly Buddhism. The underlying belief of Shinto is that there are some eight million gods. There’s no real distinction between those eight million gods and Buddha. In other words, religion in Japan is polytheistic, rather than monotheistic. In the same way, there’s no clear distinction between the mirrors for Shinto shrines or Buddhist temples, nor those with the image of Jesus Christ.

They are all religious in nature?

YOSHIDA: Yes, but actually makkyo are rarely sent to Shinto shrines, they are usually sent to private homes.
Makkyo project images, of a saint for example. In Shinto belief, the gods dwell in our natural surroundings, like in trees or stones, which means that there is little imagery of the gods themselves in shrines. Therefore, it’s not appropriate to have makkyo mirrors in Shinto shrines.

YAMAMOTO: For Buddhism, there are many different types of temples. Some temples are a mix of Shinto and Buddhism and have a yashiro [a small shrine in their precincts]. These temples place a mirror inside the honden [the main hall of the temple] or in front of the Buddhist statue.

Mirrors have many uses — they were put in graves, ten mirrors placed around people’s heads, especially in kofun — used as gifts, as religious ceremonial tools and sacred goshintai [“god-dwelling objects”], but why do you think they’re so special? Why do they have this long tradition and so many uses?

Watching you, watching me.... Altar mirrors are often angled to reflect the spirit of the kami within the person of the onlooker

YOSHIDA: It’s believed that mirrors in Shinto shrines, for example, are placed in cases where people can see their own reflection when they come into the shrines to pray, so that more than about seeing the gods you can see yourself reflected in the mirrors and it becomes about seeing a clear image of yourself.

At the exhibition, you could actually see your face on the back of the mirror. Is there a distinction between mirrors with that reflective quality on the back and mirrors that don’t have that?

YAMAMOTO: The traditional style for a mirror does not have a clear reflection on the back. People from Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples prefer this style because they want to preserve and continue the traditional craft. However, it’s more time consuming and more expensive to make.

When you make a work that’s going to be a goshintai, is it a different process? Is there something you do differently in the case of a sacred object — washing hands or wakanai [praying] — compared to a mirror that might go into a house?

There’s not much of a difference when making mirrors for personal homes or as goshintai. However, when I go to Shinto shrines, I wear shiroshozoku [a white cloth] because it’s being delivered to sacred ground.

When you make a mirror for commission, do your clients specify what they want or do they ask for your ideas?

Replica of a Hidden Christian magic mirror. Outwardly it looks like a Shinto mirror, but when a light is shone from a certain angle, an image of the Virgin Mary is reflected on the wall. (In the Franciscan museum, Kyoto)

Both. There are cases where the client says what they want me to make, and there are times where I’m asked to offer my own ideas. When the client wants a special image I ask a painter to make a design and then show it to the client.

Generally, I show my clients many different samples and designs from what I already have and then make a suggestion. This is more common because I already have the molds, so it’s more cost-effective. A new design costs about ten times more, and takes about two to three months to finish because everything has to be made from scratch.

While it’s not very common for me to make the whole thing from the start, I prefer that because then both my technology and my art can evolve. In order to continue and develop my craft, I want to have the opportunity and time to devote to [the whole process of making] one piece. So, it’s kind of a dilemma.

It sounds like there is a different sense or feeling about the craft in your family. Why is it important to you to continue this craft?

I’m not simply making mirrors as a source of income. I believe it is a really important craft and I want to pass my knowledge about the craft on to other people. At the Impact HUB Kyoto exhibition we showed images of Buddha and Jesus Christ. As a Japanese I don’t see the distinction between “that’s Buddhist” or “that’s Christian’ because our culture accepts all religions. I didn’t know how non-Japanese people would see the exhibition, but I think that’s an important thing — to encompass and accept all religions — and that’s probably what the world needs now. And that concept of encompassing and accepting all religions is a story I want to tell through this craft.