Spaces in Translation – Japanese Gardens and the West
By Christian Tagsold
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017
ISBN-13: 978-0812246742
Review by Ian Chrystie [1]
Professor Dr Christian Tagsold is an anthropologist who is currently an associate professor at the Institute for Modern Japanese Studies at the University of Dusseldorf. His research covers: Japanese gardens and Japanese communities outwith Japan, aging society and welfare in Japan, and sports “mega-events”. Spaces of Translation: Japanese Garden in the West was the title of his habilitation thesis several years ago and this has now been developed into this new book.
In the Introduction, Tagsold notes that ‘No other Asian type of garden is as ubiquitous as the Japanese…’ but that the explanation for this is ‘…more mystifying than explainable’. And it is the science of anthropology that is, in effect, going some way to explaining the mystery.
The book comprises nine chapters with each chapter starting with a ‘stroll through a garden’ – a technique I find delightful. Chapter 1, ‘From China to Japan’, after rambling through the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, London, describes how the development of trade relationships with China fostered a fascination with all things Chinese: ceramics; art; philosophy; and, of course, gardens. That some designers of such gardens attempted to follow the then available knowledge of Chinese garden design whereas others merely added an occasional Chinese-style building I found intriguing. Equally fascinating (if, on reflection, unsurprising) is that ‘…visitors probably did not see much difference between the two ways…’. In this chapter we also learn of the importance of Nature and Religion (especially, I was intrigued to learn, the Jesuit School).
The interest in Chinese gardens waned towards the end of the eighteenth century with, as we all know, the allure of Japanese gardens becoming evident from the last quarter of the nineteenth century. This is discussed in Chapter 2, ‘Discourses of Spaces’, which first leads us through the lovely Japanese-style garden at Clingendael, near The Hague. We then examine the plethora of literature that Western authors generated on Japanese gardens. Such authors included: Edward Morse, Josiah Conder, and Lafcadio Hearn (latter part of the nineteenth century) and, later, Lorraine Kuck (1930s) – who many consider to have been a key figure in proposing the idea of the zen garden.
The third Chapter ‘Spreading the Japanese Garden Worldwide’ begins with a stroll around the Morris Arboretum in Philadelphia. We then look in great depth at the Japanese gardens which became an almost required element of the World Fairs – with the first being at Vienna, in 1873 and subsequent ones including Philadelphia (1876), Paris (1878), and, of course, London in 1910. I found it amusing to read that, at the RHS Summer Fair in 1911 a comment was recorded that ‘again there were Japanese gardens, which we admire, because we do not understand them. I do not think they will ever get popular with us’. Ah well! These fairs did, of course, encourage the building of Japanese gardens in the West – although these seem to have been based either on designs found in some of the books mentioned in the previous chapter or were designed and built by Japanese gardeners.
In Chapter 4 ‘Between Essence and Invention’, and following our visit to the UNESCO Gardens in Paris, we now move into the more academic realm of this book with a discussion as to how one defines a Japanese garden – whether it has a fixed meaning, that is, built by a Japanese individual and, in essence, non-transferable to the West (essentialism) or whether such gardens in the West are, in fact, Western constructions and a sub-category of Western gardens in general (inventionism). One essentialist author cited in this chapter, the late Irmtraud Schaarschmidt-Richter, pointed out that we ‘…cannot understand Japanese gardens fully because [they] are unintelligible to most foreigners’. This lady also asserted that ‘she [was] the rare being capable of bridging the gap between the illegible Japanese garden and her Western readers’. I must search out some of her writings!
A visit to the Japanese garden in Portland, Oregon is our lead-in to Chapter 5, ‘Zen and the Art of Gardens’ in which we examine the dramatic change in Japanese gardens built in the West after WW2: the move from gardens in which plants were the dominant feature to those comprising gravel and rocks (kare-sansui) together with the dramatic increase in the number of such gardens that were constructed. The importance of Lorraine Kuck’s publication (One Hundred Kyoto Gardens) in 1935, together with Bruno Taut’s veneration of such gardens at Katsura and, especially, Ryoanji, is well known, as is the Japanese governmental recognition of the diplomatic advantages of promoting the building of such gardens. What I had not considered, though, was the relevance of a growing worldwide interest in a more modern interpretation of Zen Buddhism itself. This is examined in great detail in this chapter and is one of many elements I found most interesting.
A stroll through the Japanese garden in Bonn, Germany, forms our introduction to Chapter 6 ‘Elements of Japanese Gardens’ in which we learn what elements of a garden are essential for it to qualify as “Japanese”. Mind you, one of the first things we read is Tagsold’s thesis that ‘[t]here is no essential “Japanese Garden” only many versions and interpretations of the idea of a Japanese garden’. We first look, though, at garden designers and have our ideas that a Japanese Master is an essential element somewhat challenged with some examples of how all we are told is not what it seems (for example a Japanese garden designer whose main training was building over 700 golf courses!). The chapter then continues with sections on Plants, Stones, Lanterns and Bridges, and the increasing role of women (for example, nowadays rarely does a man officiate over a tea ceremony).
Our next trip takes us through the Botanic Garden in Brooklyn as we look at Chapter 7 ‘Authoritarian Gardens’ and discuss the “rules” that seem to set Japanese gardens in the West somewhat apart from other public spaces. These edicts include enclosing the garden such that it can only be viewed from the outside, defining routes within the garden, not allowing unaccompanied children access, and insisting that visitors ‘respect the area as one set aside for quiet and contemplation’.
In Chapter 8 ‘Connecting Spaces, Disconnecting Spaces’ we divert a little from our normal garden stroll by visiting an imaginary Japanese garden in a novel by László Krasznahorkai, a Hungarian novelist. Sadly, this novel has not yet been translated into English and so we have to rely on Tagsold’s interpretation of a German translation. The discussion starts with the concept of the “cultural container” – that is that we all live in such a “container” with our compatriots. In addition, as Japanese gardens represent Japan in miniature, they take on the same mantle. It therefore follows that these gardens must be authentically Japanese as ‘only Japanese people have the correct cultural programming to build a Japanese garden’. We also discuss the anthropological idea of “places” and “non-places” – with Japanese gardens, it is suggested, being “places” only within Japan.
In the final chapter, Chapter 9 ‘Postmodernising Japanese Gardens’ our initial visit is to a luxury condominium in the centre of Berlin, Marthashof, with a description of the apparent use of “zen-like” structures to persuade potential buyers that the area had been ‘… created for wholesome living’. This use, it is suggested, demonstrates that Japanese gardens have managed to “escape” – as is evident from their appearance as miniature Zen gardens sold for interior design, the potential to rake virtual gardens on the Internet, a computer game requiring one to rake a garden without touching areas already raked, et cetera. In a way, we in the West are no longer confined to walking through such gardens but may now ‘…acquire them whole, for [our] homes, workplaces, or computer screens’. Following some additional discussions along these lines we end up at a garden that will be familiar to many of us – the Japanese garden at the Albert Kahn Museum on the outskirts of Paris. Those who visit cannot fail to notice that it is undoubtedly very traditional but with a few unconventional additions that makes visitors wonder whether it is truly Japanese. The conclusion, it seems, is that this garden ‘…brings the meta-narrations that have so long undergirded the idea of Japanese gardens to an end’.
Following a short conclusion, there are several pages of supplementary notes, an extensive bibliography, and an excellent index.
So what are MY conclusions?
Well, firstly, I probably need to apologise to those reading this, and perhaps more so to Professor Tagsold, for what I’m certain is a most inadequate review by someone who is not a suitably qualified academic. That said, perhaps a review by someone who is wholly ignorant of the science of Anthropology may have some merit simply because most readers will be similarly new to the subject.
I have found this book to be almost unbelievably fascinating, enthralling, and (most importantly for an academic text) relatively easy to read. It is also, as far as I am aware, the only book currently available that examines this subject and so is of great significance.
I do have one warning, though. I found it impossible not to look deeper into the subject – to search terms I didn’t understand and to delve into the excellent bibliography. What reading some of the “academic” articles that I could access, though, emphasised how much work Tagsold must have put into the text to make it so readable and comprehensible.
To my mind, an essential acquisition for anyone remotely interested in Japanese gardens.
[1] This review was originally published in the journal Shakkei Vol. 24 No. 3. Winter 2017 – 2018. We thank the Japanese Garden Society for allowing us to publish this review.