A Beautiful Garden: Nitobe Memorial (Part II)

[If reading this by email, please tap the title at the top to open your browser for the best experience. Then, clicking individual pictures will reveal higher resolution images.]

 

In Part I, I closed with this observation: one does not visit a Japanese garden in the way one might go to a park, as a context to pursue some activity like an exercise walk, but as a place to experience simply being.

Here we encounter a paradox, perhaps one of many associated with traditional Japanese gardens. At first, for many Western visitors, the elements within such a garden, and their arrangement, catch the eye and draw one in further to an encounter with what is seen there. Yet, what is seen within a Japanese garden exists less to provide an object of attention, and more to facilitate and enhance how one sees. A journey around the garden therefore encourages a journey within. The “spirit that informs [the] spaces” found in “a garden created and maintained in the Japanese tradition,” to which the UBC website alludes, is a spirit or quality of experience to be nurtured within the viewer who encounters this intangible element of the garden.

A carefully arranged sense of space therefore forms a prominent feature of traditional Japanese gardens, where plantings and structural objects both near and further away are placed deliberately. Except for the surrounding walls, there are no straight lines in a Japanese garden, and formal symmetry is strenuously avoided. Plantings and objects are more often placed singly or in three’s, given how two points often suggest a line and three suggest a circle. The spatial interrelationship between such things as large stones, trees, and water features is not accidental, and for the Japanese has a spiritual as well as visual significance.

In Japanese garden design, each particular feature, whether alive and growing or humanly made, has a distinct significance and is purposely chosen for its location. Perception of this is enhanced when a visitor becomes aware of how the elements of a garden’s composition are selected with an appreciation for seasonal viewing, such as at the annual cherry blossom time. Throughout the year plantings in the garden draw attention to themselves through an occasional heightened display of color, or by contributing to a muted harmony of differing tones and textures. On successive visits, a familiar place somehow can seem different.

Plants, shrubs, and trees in Japanese gardens are cut and trimmed so as to appear manicured  just as European topiary is studiously tended, albeit with very different results. Whereas gardeners in the Southern U.S. might allow azaleas to grow unevenly to avoid looking like a hedge, ornamental shrubs such as holly and cedar, and the branches of evergreens, are painstakingly shaped by the Japanese-trained gardener, often into softly rounded forms. These provide contrast to the smooth sculptural shapes of tree trunks, while also standing out against the flat reflective surface of ponds.

Traditional Japanese gardens usually contains a pathway, a design element not unique to such gardens, though its treatment in this context draws attention to itself. For the pathway through the garden can be just as important as what is viewed from it, so that the experience of the journey becomes in some sense its destination. Even in a relatively compact space, a consideration important in Japan, a pathway in a garden can make a small area seem much larger than it is, as the visitor is prompted to slow down and live into the present moment.

Padding along the soft pea gravel between areas of green covered by multiple textures from soft moss to tall bladed plant spikes, one gains glimpses and then temporarily loses sight of what lies ahead. Views include garden features such as a teahouse awaiting encounter, or a low-arching bridge from which Koi might be observed below the still water’s surface.

The UBC website says that “Nitobe Memorial Garden is considered one of the most authentic Japanese gardens outside of Japan.” A testament to this perception was provided by Emperor Akihito during a visit there. He said that, while in this garden, “I am in Japan.” Enhancing this sense of being in Japan is the presence of a traditional Japanese house in which opportunities to experience the ‘tea ceremony’ are seasonally available.

 

Leave a comment