Leaf 121 – Reflections
Living in West Tokyo, we are extremely fortunate to have a largely unobstructed view of Mount Fuji from our balcony. Views of Japan’s most majestic mountain are generally at their best in Spring and Autumn. I find the seasons offer contrasting reflections. There’s often a soft, calm serenity to the early morning views seen in springtime, with the sun rising in the east, behind our home. In Autumn, at the other end of the day, the sunset views can be awe-inspiringly spectacular, watching warm reds and fiery golds rising from the mountain itself while the sun sets behind it in the west. I first fell in love with Mount Fuji long before I saw it with my own eyes. An exhibition, titled “100 Views of Mount Fuji,” curated by my friend and former colleague, Tim Clark, at the British Museum in 2001, really sowed the seeds of this fascination. It inspired me to try my own hand at painting the mountain (see here). Nowadays I still try to capture something of the mountain’ s likeness, but I do so more simply through my camera lens, imprinting directly from the palette provided by the living, shifting sky and the solidified mass of the sacred mountain itself. The view from our urban balcony always reminds me of a print by Hagiwara Hideo, titled “Biru no tanima ni,” which translates as: ‘In the Valley between the Buildings’ (c.1977-1986); a woodblock print which was used as the poster image advertising the exhibition at the BM. The following haiku is an attempt to capture something suggestive of that simple association.
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| Hagiwara Hideo - Biru no tanima ni (British Museum) |
In the morning haze,
floating above the rooftops
– Mount Fuji.
