Utopias, to start

心象風景: perhaps, a landscape that can only be imagined

 From Lafcadio Hearn's Japan: an attempt at interpretation (published 1904, the year he died), pages 504 to 505-

    No: the charm is made by the fact that this vision of the past represents to us much more than past or present,-- that it foreshadows the possibilities of some higher future, in a world of perfect sympathy. After many a thousand years there may be developed a humanity able to achieve, with never a shadow of illusion, those ethical conditions prefigured by the ideals of Old Japan: instinctive unselfishness, a common desire to find the joy of life in making happiness for others, a universal sense of moral beauty. And whenever men shall have so far gained upon the present as to need no other code than the teaching of their own hearts, then indeed the ancient ideal of Shinto will find its supreme realization.

More about flowers, this time, Korean

 Years ago, I tried to find information about Korean flower arrangement traditions, wondering if it would be like Japanese and Chinese traditions; but I couldn't find anything on the internet. Now I've come across loads, via Korean Literature Now's article on Korean Garden Culture.

Searching for 'Hwaam surok' brought up two very interesting theses (I have no idea if theses are usually published on line these days)

Keumhee Oh's Exilic Experiences and Creative Practice: Insights from the lives and art of Scholar-Artists Exiled on Cheju Island during the Choson Dynasty (1392-1910) is fascinating. Not really about flowers at all, but it is interesting how flower symbology is used in the art.

Sang-jun Yoon's History and Conservation of Gardens in Korea Vol. II is the appendices for their thesis which I haven't read. It has lists linking Latin names for plants with the Korean and Chinese terms.

Not yet a poem

 Going to the shops on Friday, I noticed how the wet twigs and leaves made the pavement slippery, not dangerously so, but noticeable. I failed to make a haiku from this, but later it occurred to me that 'slippery surface' may be a poetic description of the screens we read on.

Media and poetry

 The Poemgranate twitter feed shared this poem:

"Stationery" by Agha Shahid Ali The moon did not become the sun. It just fell on the desert in great sheets, reams of silver handmade by you. The night is your cottage industry now, the day is your brisk emporium. The world is full of paper. Write to me.

The poem is beautiful, and the linking of moonlight and letters from loved ones is literally poetic. But it didn't make me want to receive a letter; it made me want an email or text from a friend. Communication, knowing someone thought of me, is more important to me than the media it comes by. But I can't think of a poetic way to describe an email.

Sundries

 Let's start this with 'sankofa'. It seems like a simple idea, but I'm not sure I will ever completely understand it. I came across it reading about Larry Achiapong's flags at the Liverpool Biennial. I didn't physically go to Liverpool, but really enjoyed the on-line offering. I'm grateful.

There's a lot of examination of colonialism and its legacy in stuff I've come across recently, exhibits and talks. A site examining sugar industry, slave trade, and industrialisation in Flintshire came up in one of the discussions. To my shame, I am descended from someone who owned slaves.

Two things from Bulgaria's past: a photo collection and an article on early Turkish feminists. I know almost nothing about Bulgaria, but still I have come across these two things.

This morning I listened to the conference by the International Society of Ikebana Research, which was very interesting and has given me a lot to think about. Not sure yet if I will find it inspiring

And, it's a common word that I know I would use, but it was only this week that I read the definition of 'sundries'. It is only a bit different than I thought.

floating paper stars

 

The paper stars I made years ago float very well in the canal. Now I will be thinking about making more to float this way, but for th moment, just thinking.

what colour is a season

 Looking for haiku information, I came across the translation of the Zokuhen (Sequel) of the Eiga monogatari by Professor Takeshi Watanabe. It's not an easy read, especially with my very limited knowledge of Japanese history. But it is interesting anyway.

In the first 'chapter' on the site, which is Book 31, I think because it is a continuation of the work, there is a mention of ladies writing poems on "thin paper of the color of autumn leaves". Reading this, I though of brown paper, maybe the colour of a paper bag or the cheaper sort of envelopes; when I was trying to find the passage again I searched for 'brown' - that's how strong the connection was in my mind. Re-reading it, I think the paper was actually red, as in momiji/crimson leaves. In my defence, the first poem finishes with "autumnal wind among the pines" which puts the image of pine trees in my mind, dark green unchanging through the seasons.

I enjoy changing my wardrobe between spring/summer and fall/winter. Some people would see it as silly, and I don't really have a system for classifying garments, but still, I'm forward to pulling out the clothes I see as spring-like.