An Exploration of Shodo, Japanese Calligraphy

The first Area Studies class of the semester was an introduction to Shodo, the art of calligraphy. This type of calligraphy is not the type that we know of in the west; although, there are some similarities such as learning about precise hand-eye coordination. The other similarity is that it is comparable to the more ancient style of writing. A number one difference comes when considering the language from which both types of calligraphy are derived. In the hand-out that we received prior to the class there is an explanation of the language differences The paper explains the profundity of this type of calligraphy as such: Of the three different kana (alphabets) Kanji is the one preferred and most frequently used in Shodo. The other two kana, hiragana and katakana, are used in similar manners as our alphabet in that they are phonogrammic, or the symbols correspond directly to a sound. Kanji, on the other hand, are ideographic, which means that they simply convey meaning. The English language as well as other western languages is also phonogrammic, which means that the same difference exists between English calligraphy and Shodo as the former two kana and Kanji. This distinction can lead to the understanding that the art form is more than simply technical mastery, but has intellectual and spiritual depth. To convey this idea there should first be a little more explanation of the background of kanji, the practice of Shodo, and my experience of attempting Shodo.
Kanji was brought to Japan from the motherland, China. As explained earlier, kanji, the Chinese written language is made up of ideographic characters rather than phonographic symbols. Consequently, the order of comprehension does not have to go from symbol to sound to meaning, but simply from symbol to meaning. This is where the real depth of the art can be understood because the symbols are meant to be innately evocative. The handout had the example of mountain in the form of English versus Kanji, which in English is m-o-u-n-t-a-i-n, and the meaning is then understood by recognizing the sound. In kanji the sound is yama, but the symbol represents the idea of a mountain, so it is supposed have the innate meaning of mountain. In explaining the practice one might be able to understand the depth of why this is such a major difference.
A Shodo practitioner does not simply sit down, and start writing/painting. There are specific meditative practices that are involved when attempting Shodo. The handout explains it as such: “The calligrapher’s mind must be clear and relaxed-meditative. He must be centered, breathing deeply from his hara, the gut and center of ki. Then, he allows the idea of the kanji he is about to paint to enter his mind. He does not think of the form of the character yet; first he imagines and feels the idea that it represents. His mind becomes, for example, the mountain, and only then does he execute with precision and spirit the simple character of yama.” (Page 4) Just in observing the process of the practice of Shodo one might start to understand the depth of how each different person may interpret the symbol in various ways even though it is only one symbol with specified stroke orders.
The paper denotes the common misunderstanding that westerners may have about the creativity in Shodo. The differences in ideas about creativity are quite large between the east and west because in the common western arts there is allowance for “an infinite possibility of subject matter.” (Page 3) In Shodo, and other eastern arts, there is a uniformity of the medium and content of the art. The paper explains, “The uniformity of content actually deepens the creativity required to excel in shodo. Technical mastery with the brush is only the first step. For the image to come alive, the calligrapher must imbue the image something of his soul, his creative energy.” (Page 3) This conflict between types of creative energy can be put simply, freedom from form versus freedom in form. Both are valid, and both are incredibly hard to achieve.
Our class on Shodo consisted of receiving a very simple introduction to the materials, the beginning brush strokes, and a few examples of kanji of the elements, fire, water, wind, and earth. Our teacher, Oko, was a soft-spoken woman with an amazingly steady hand, and an encouraging demeanor. I spent the first two hours trying to do the basic brush strokes, which were much, much harder than they appeared. Even when painting simple vertical and horizontal strokes I had difficulty. Next, I attempted writing my name in katakana, and lastly I painted the kanji of the elements. I felt strong connections to the kanji of wind and water, which makes sense due to my Aquarian lineage. Having read and understood the guidelines for identifying quality shodo, I was not able to produce anything that I found satisfactory, but it was fun to be in art class again. When later I was telling one of my classmates about my difficulty, she reminded me that becoming good at shodo not only requires technical mastery, but years of mental discipline. I felt a little better after being reminded of that, and could reside in the simple enjoyment of participating in such an ancient art.