History, Culture, and Memories

Dear Family and Friends,

Rumiko, my Japanese teacher, always has the most unusual ways of holding a class. Actually, our lessons have become day trips — when we only speak in Japanese, of course. She corrects my errors only if I ask a question. But usually she says being understood is more important than being perfect.

Rumiko knows I am interested in art. So, for this month’s lesson she really wanted me to meet her sister’s friend. She is not only an artist, but also the wife of a Buddhist priest. In addition, the husband is both a priest and an artist himself. They recently opened an art museum on their temple property. Rumiko wanted to see it herself, so arranged for our lesson to be there. 

This artistic couple, Suzuki Hiromu and Naomi, live in Yamagata Prefecture. Their town, Higashine, is a rather long drive from Sendai. So, Rumiko asked her father do be our chauffeur. Of course, her sister Kumiko joined us.

Papa was much more elegant than I had expected. He appeared in a white suit and silver-gold shoes. His hair was newly dyed and permed. He wore white gloves when he drove. He was magnificent! And very laid back. And full of fun. He merits an entire letter of his own!

He was also an excellent driver, so the biggest hurdle of our trip was finding the temple. It was in an old neighborhood with unmarked streets (not even on the navigator). But we got finally there and were truly in for a treat.

The Suzukis met us and immediately ushered us into the museum. Actually, it used to be a kura, a large storage house used in times past. They moved this one to its present location and redesigned the interior completely. It was traditional on the outside and ultra-modern inside. Some walls were painted in soft colors but others were mirrors. High windows allowed for plenty of natural lighting.

The collection itself was very mixed. It went from very old calligraphy and Hina-Matsuri dolls 

to recent pieces done by friends and themselves.

The Suzuki family has been priests for twenty generations. And many of them have been artists. Hiromu San’s great grandfather painted a stunning folding screen of the four seasons. 

While Hiromu San himself did rather subdued pieces reminiscent of the Spanish artists he so admired and copied when he and Naomi San spent eighteen months in Europe for their honeymoon. They studied art at the Prado for half a year and traveled extensively the rest of that time.

The museum also had antique items. There was a collection of fine glass bottles, 

several breathtaking dowry chests, 

a rather large safe with three levels of doors to unlock before finally getting access to its contents. 

There were Persian carpets and an old wooden staircase with drawers under each step. 

And there was much more.

After admiring everything in the kura museum, we were ushered into the main house. It was a vast labyrinth of hallways and rooms, very easy to get lost in.

There were ikebana arrangements in every nook and on every tabletop. And the entire place was bulging with generations worth of books, antiques, and art pieces. 

The work involved to keep the place so pristine and orderly was staggering.

Parts of this complex web of rooms and corridors were also very lived in. Strings of persimmons were hanging down a staircase, for example. Two bicycles were parked in one of the storerooms, along with two Buddha heads. 

Naomi San had an art studio, where she painted daily. Hiromu San’s office was tucked into a small corner between two hallways and yet another staircase. The kitchen-dining area was small and warm. The rest of the house was freezing.

There were more than rooms, all of them filled with truly breathtaking pieces of art, antiques, and crafts handed down over centuries. The home itself was almost more a museum than the converted kura was.

The temple was another impressively adorned area, with items extending back well over 500 years. In fact, the entire complex of museum, temple, and home was a treasure trove of history, culture, and memories.

Late in the afternoon, we paused for coffee. But Papa announced he was going to a local spa for a good soak while we indulged in sweets and caffeine. 

We expected him back on about ninety minutes, but that extended to two hours, even longer. At last he called to say he was completely lost. It was dark, the car navigator was useless, all the narrow streets looked the same. He asked local people for help, but that did not work. So, he finally called and all of us together (excluding me) gave him directions by phone.

He eventually arrived. We all said our farewells, bowed, and drove off into the night.

Naomi San wants to come to Sendai once a month for “English lessons”. But I get the feeling we will go to museums, take walks in parks, and simply enjoy being together and chatting. No matter what, I am looking forward  to whatever unfolds.

Love,

Anne