SENSE MATE

A friend recently told me about a writing exercise that could be used to develop one's senses. "Apparently we tend to favour the visual." I feel this is absolutely true. We as humans, at the time of writing, almost exclusively give priority to things that are visually striking. (A related story for another time would be, have you noticed that the brighter the phone screen, the greyer the cityscape?)

And while some of the ocular sense preference is no doubt based on ideas of beauty or impact of colour, senses like smell and hearing remain no less mighty. The link to meaning is just easily dismissed in our current age of convenience. But to establish meaning there are only two requirements; either imagination, or a memory.

Memories befall us, but imagination is a muscle.

Upon visiting the Sagawa Art Museum beside Lake Biwa in Japan, I was reminded of my friend's considerations. Impossible to photograph, one is taken to a space inside a semi-submerged tea house.

There was once a keen space inside a sunken tea house, that made use of multiple factors and effects in order to make one aware of the passing of the day.

The Japanese possessing a sometimes dire relationship with time.

After taking a series of steps and perpendicular turns, passing over railway sleepers, each producing a distinct resonant step, then by a single flower - a flower from very far away…

One enters a very dark space. A sharp and intent reflection greets you on black water, but only upon your own inspection. Very easily missed.

In a volume to the left of this, hangs a series of paper screens, some loose like open scrolls, some taut and fixed in position - all revealing their structure and woven assembly. Here, one is held fast by this paper on three sides. The remaining side is a horizontal stroke window, stark and spotless; one's head is now level with the water outside.

And as the sun sets out west, as it always does, its rays will find the paper encircling you.

But not before passing through summer's longest, greenest grass.

You are now standing in sunlight's green water, surrounding you on three sides.

But this is only now, for in the dark you are in the dark, and in the heat of the day, you see only paper.  

In Autumn, orange and gold ripple over your hand,

And in winter, paper wears white music bands.

 Can you see it?