It’s funny to say, but the beginnings and the endings of essays are always the hardest. The beginnings, of course, because one sits down and looks at all the papers and goes ‘Oh my Lord where am I going to start?’ and the end because that’s when there are emergency trips to the library to find the title of the book you used, forgot to add to the working bibliography, and had to find again. The ending too, of course, because of the infinite amount of polishing needed, even more than usual what with footnotes and appendixes and bibliographies of books whose titles you don’t understand. Though, of course, other difficulties present themselves one by one along the journey. For me, the biggest challenge was reading over my notes and finding that I have a horrible tendency to type in bullet form ideas without much context. This generally works for things like English and history, but when the notes go ‘Sakurahime hanamichi entrance, Gonsaku-Shimote, Sakurahime-Kamite & butai leap to mawari-butai @ kabuki-za’ then one realizes, suddenly, that one is in trouble when it comes to deciphering. There is also a delicate balance to find during research. Essentially, there are two sorts of books to be found. The standard ‘this is a stage. This is a hat. This is a trapdoor’ kind of book that gives you the bare bones of kabuki is the most common sort. They can easily be found- one or two of them at least, in any library. However, when one has read one basic kabuki book one has read them all. The next sort of kabuki book is blindingly incomprehensible, with every third word in Japanese and a lot of intricate diagrams of muscles of the human face that leave you wondering what on earth the nerves and muscles of a jaw and forehead have to do with acting. That problem largely took care of itself over time. An in depth study of the basic kabuki book reveals that kabuki makeup is designed to imitate and exaggerate the muscles of the human face to make them look more fearsome. Then, flipping back to the muscle diagram, you can see the possible patterns to follow when designing the make up for your hero or villain. With this bizarre sort of double-research it is possible to piece together an astoundingly specific picture of the art. Contrary to popular belief there is an abundance of information available in English (though, in truth, the books I have were purchased in Japan) by the few souls who bothered to translate to make available to western countries… emphasis on the ‘few.’ Of the five books I looked at, four of them were co-written by Chiaki Yoshida. However, returning to the point, it is available. Merely largely incomprehensible without the background information you need to really appreciate. Now, all said (a dozen pages or so, in fact) and done (printer humming) I feel strangely frustrated with the entire thing. I’ve spent hours reading, typing, rereading, deleting and typing. I understand the mechanics of kabuki theatre, I know the materials the elevators are made out of, I know that Chiaki Yoshida took over three dozen photos of various kabuki plays from the years 1972 till 1977. But there’s something empty about reading ‘the audience shouts greetings to the actors’ and being there amongst the hollering. How much can someone really learn about theatre through sitting and reading? How much does a grade school student understand about Shakespeare from sitting and stumbling through reading Hamlet in class? I don’t know, but it feels like a step, and I honestly loved writing this essay, even if it was only a tiny glimpse into the theatre.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 04:28 pm (UTC)Last Minute Frustrations
It’s funny to say, but the beginnings and the endings of essays are always the hardest. The beginnings, of course, because one sits down and looks at all the papers and goes ‘Oh my Lord where am I going to start?’ and the end because that’s when there are emergency trips to the library to find the title of the book you used, forgot to add to the working bibliography, and had to find again.
The ending too, of course, because of the infinite amount of polishing needed, even more than usual what with footnotes and appendixes and bibliographies of books whose titles you don’t understand.
Though, of course, other difficulties present themselves one by one along the journey. For me, the biggest challenge was reading over my notes and finding that I have a horrible tendency to type in bullet form ideas without much context. This generally works for things like English and history, but when the notes go ‘Sakurahime hanamichi entrance, Gonsaku-Shimote, Sakurahime-Kamite & butai leap to mawari-butai @ kabuki-za’ then one realizes, suddenly, that one is in trouble when it comes to deciphering.
There is also a delicate balance to find during research. Essentially, there are two sorts of books to be found. The standard ‘this is a stage. This is a hat. This is a trapdoor’ kind of book that gives you the bare bones of kabuki is the most common sort. They can easily be found- one or two of them at least, in any library. However, when one has read one basic kabuki book one has read them all.
The next sort of kabuki book is blindingly incomprehensible, with every third word in Japanese and a lot of intricate diagrams of muscles of the human face that leave you wondering what on earth the nerves and muscles of a jaw and forehead have to do with acting.
That problem largely took care of itself over time. An in depth study of the basic kabuki book reveals that kabuki makeup is designed to imitate and exaggerate the muscles of the human face to make them look more fearsome. Then, flipping back to the muscle diagram, you can see the possible patterns to follow when designing the make up for your hero or villain.
With this bizarre sort of double-research it is possible to piece together an astoundingly specific picture of the art. Contrary to popular belief there is an abundance of information available in English (though, in truth, the books I have were purchased in Japan) by the few souls who bothered to translate to make available to western countries… emphasis on the ‘few.’ Of the five books I looked at, four of them were co-written by Chiaki Yoshida. However, returning to the point, it is available. Merely largely incomprehensible without the background information you need to really appreciate.
Now, all said (a dozen pages or so, in fact) and done (printer humming) I feel strangely frustrated with the entire thing. I’ve spent hours reading, typing, rereading, deleting and typing. I understand the mechanics of kabuki theatre, I know the materials the elevators are made out of, I know that Chiaki Yoshida took over three dozen photos of various kabuki plays from the years 1972 till 1977. But there’s something empty about reading ‘the audience shouts greetings to the actors’ and being there amongst the hollering.
How much can someone really learn about theatre through sitting and reading? How much does a grade school student understand about Shakespeare from sitting and stumbling through reading Hamlet in class?
I don’t know, but it feels like a step, and I honestly loved writing this essay, even if it was only a tiny glimpse into the theatre.