Heroes Not Zombies

Today’s woodcut is by the famous Japanese artist, Hokusai (you know, the one who painted “The Wave”). It’s one of his “36 views of Mount Fuji”. The first thing which struck me when I looked at it was enhanced by the physical construction of this little accordion-print book that I have – each work of art is reproduced over a two page spread. In this case, the left page depicts what is in the foreground and the right, the distance. I find something immensely pleasing about that balance, or harmony. You can see the whole and the part all at once. You can see the “view from on high”, the overview, and the details of what is right in front of you, all at once.
That immediately provokes a train of thought in my mind about the two fundamental ways of engaging with the world which we humans have access to, thanks to our left and right cerebral hemispheres. The left, you might remember, favours a narrow focus of attention on parts, while the right gives us a broader focus on the whole. Beautiful.

What I notice first is Mount Fuji, which, apparently was the artist’s inspiration for this series. Then I see the white snow covered landscape at its feet, and the endless blue beyond. I then turn to the left and see the little wooden pavilion with a group of women on the terrace. There are four of them. One is carrying a tray of food and drink, another turns to look her way. The third is pointing enthusiastically at something, and the fourth is turning to respond to her. Again, that’s a lovely balance…two people catching the attention of two other people. One to what’s right here in front of her, and the other to what lies in the distance.
My booklet says that the scene shows a young woman enthusiastically pointing at the horizon. So, I return to the image and look to see if I can see what she is pointing at. It could be the horizon. By the way, do you notice how the further away part of the scene is the bluest part? That is a very, very common phenomenon. Here’s a couple of my own photos showing that –

It’s also something you can see reproduced time and again in paintings. The poet, Rebecca Solnit, writes the phenomenon of the blue distance beautifully in her essay collections, “A Field Guide to Getting Lost”.

The woman who is pointing, is she pointing at the horizon? Or at the mountain? Mountains are surely attention magnets. Growing up in Scotland I feel that mountains are in my blood. The shapes of specific mountains become very familiar to us, and Mount Fuji in Japan must be one of the most revered mountains on the planet. But maybe she’s pointing at the birds? Did you notice them? Birds always catch my attention. I love to sit in the garden in the summer and look up to see a few buzzards skimming the air currents gracefully, so high they aren’t much bigger than specks….a bit like these ones in this print.

You know, I think that’s one of the reasons why I write, take photos and share what I create. I’m the one enthusiastically pointing, saying “Oh wow! Look at that!!” I do that all the time. I do it when I’m by myself, when something catches my attention, moves me, or provokes a moment of wonder. I’ve written a number of times about the French phrase “L’Émerveillement du Quotidien” which captures this idea of being amazed by the so-called ordinary. In fact, the booklet which accompanies these woodblock prints says that it’s a “groupe de voyageurs s’émerveille devant le plus gros sommet du Japon” – a group of travellers amazing themselves in front of the highest summit in Japan – I like how French uses reflexive verbs – adding the “se” or “s’” in front of a verb – I can’t quite think of an English language equivalent.

Yep, that’s what it looks like to me – people amazing themselves! What a great thing to do! I love it when others do that too. It delights me when someone shares something they’ve noticed with me…..especially something which amazed them.

I hope this delights you too…..