Sino - Japanese geomancy as holistic design theory

As one of the - what we would now view as - unor­thodox sciences practised in China, geomancy was most generally known as feng-shui. literally "wind-water", or simply as ti-li, "land patterns" In Japan this same body of knowledge was called chiso, "land physi ognomy", or kaso. "house physiognomy". Geomancy seeks to determine the most favourable design and lo­cation of human artefacts - a house, a grave, even a whole city - within the natural or man-made environ­ment

Smo-Japanese geomancy is based on a holistic view of the cosmos, in which man is seen as an integral part of nature and its energy fields. It correlates geophysical factors - geographical land forms, climate, magnetic fields - and astral phenomena - movements of the stars, solstices, lunar phases - with the psychosomatic welfare of the human being We shall be examining this science in some depth not only because it differs considerably from the indigenous Shinto geomancy discussed earlier in this book, but because it was to prove highly significant for Japanese garden design Indeed, it influenced not only the positioning of arte­facts (including entire gardens) in geographical space, but even governed the movement of human beings m time During the reign of Emperor Temmu, a central government organ was created within the imperial city to supervise Smo-Japanese geomancy This was the Ommyo-ryo, the Office of Yin and Yang For all its superstitious overtones, geomancy reflects a profound awareness of the ecological relationship between man and the forces of nature.

The logic of Chinese geomancy, of feng-shui, is not easily grasped by the Western mind. Like other branches of the traditional Chinese natural sciences, it employs methods of cognition which are best described as in­ductive, synthetic or synchronistic, if we may borrow from the terminology of Porkert and Jung. Such proce­dures are foreign to the Western mind, which employs causal, analytic and diachronistic processes of thought.

To the uninitiated, Smo-Japanese geomancy appears to consist of a vast collection of rules and precepts whose roots can ultimately be traced both to human fears - fear of the uncontrollable forces of nature, fear of hostile neighbours - and human greed. But it also conceals a fundamental acknowledgement of the in­terdependence of all levels of reality, both natural and man-made. It recognizes, too, the energetic quality underlying all reality - a concept unknown to the Western mind until the advent of modern physics.

The Chinese geomancy introduced into Japan was itself a complex amalgam of two schools of thought, one based on more rational cosmology, the other intui­tive. The chief instrument of the former was the geo-mancer's "compass", a condensed image of the cos­mos in its spatial and temporal relationships - a sort of Chinese mandala.

The Chinese geomantic compass was frequently subdivided into three levels - Heaven, Earth and Man.

It thus reflected the tripartite division of the Chinese universe. In line with ancient Chinese speculation on the cosmos, the compass shows heaven as round and the earth as square. There is a magnetic needle at its centre. Concentric rings circling this needle relate the concepts of Yin and Yang, which express the polarity of all natural phenomena, to the concept of go-gyo, the five evolutive phases of Chinese natural science, to the eight trigrams and sixty-four hexagrams of the l-Ching and to the cycles of the Chinese solar-lunar cal­endar. These correlations apply equally to outer nature and inner man. Practical geomancy might thus be de­scribed as a kind of acupuncture applied to nature, and acupuncture as as kind of geomancy applied to the hu­man body. In view of this holistic understanding of the world, it is not supnsing that the design of Japanese gardens was also subject to the dictates of geomancy.

Perhaps the most striking consequence of this cos­mology was the fact that the gardens, cities and pal­aces of China, and subsequently Japan, were all ori­ented due north. The Chinese believed that all power was derived from a non-personal Heaven and was transmitted to earth via the emperor, until he grew too weak to perform his celestial mandate. Just as the stars and constellations in the sky appeared to rotate around the Pole Star - referred to in ancient Chinese texts as the "Great Heavenly Emperor" -, so on earth all state and religious affairs revolved around the figure of the emperor, the Son of Heaven. He was the axis mundi of the earth just as the Pole Star was that of the firma­ment. Since the Pole Star lies almost due north, the itually correct position of the emperor was accepted as also being either to the north or at the centre of his capital and palace complex. This cosmological axiom led the Japanese to orient their capital cities, palaces, noble residences, gardens and even the shrine of the Imperial Ancestors in Ise all towards the north.

At the centre of the intuitive school of Chinese geomancy lay the search for an ideal site upon which to build an ancestrial burial vault, a house or even an entire town in harmony with the complex configura­tions of nature already existing or made by man. The Chinese visualized such ideal locations in the form of a comfortable armchair, its "back" a mountain and its "armrests" hills. In certain cases the "back" might be provided by artificial enclosures such as walls, hedges and buildings. The Chinese word for such an ideal site isxue, which means "lair", "den" or "cave", thereby emphasizing its protective function. Significantly, too, the same ideogram represents an acupuncture point in both the Chinese and Japanese languages.

Ideally, the "armchair" will be open and sloping to­wards the south, and flanked by mountains or buildings on its three remaining sides. These specifications are met both by the old capital of Heian-kyo, which is located within the broad Yamashiro basin (yamashiro literally means "mountain castle") and by the dairi, the imperial palace within the city itself.

Unlike the cosmological school, however, with its geomantic compass, the more intuitive school had no technical aids to fall back on. Locating ideal sites re­quired instead an intuitive feel for what the Chinese callki, and what M. Porkert translates as "configurative energy", the energy flow within a complex natural or man-made configuration. An intuitive feel for this energy flow could only be acquired through practical training under the supervision of an experienced geomancer.

It is interesting to note that this same concept of ki is employed by traditional Chinese medicine, both in diagnosis and treatment. This and other points of simi­larity have led to the suggestion that acupuncture may have developed out of the historically older science of geomancy. Many of the names assigned to acupunc­ture points make clear references to geographic and topological features - "bubbling spring", "sea of en­ergy", "small swamp", "bending pond", "inner gar­den", "outer hill", "receiving mountain" and more besides.

According to the formal school of geomancy, a loca­tion is characterized in terms of a dragon. The dragon's "belly" thereby represents the most auspicious site. The contours of the dragon's body are described by mountain ranges and winding rivers, which also repre­sent the components of Yin and Yang. As mentioned earlier, the word for "landscape" - adopted into the Japanese from the original Chinese - is san-sui, which means literally "mountain-water". This conceptual and visual differentiation is utterly lost in translation. San-sui means the polarity of mountain and water and is one of the most important metaphysical concepts inspiring the formal language of Sino-Japanese garden architec­ture and its blood-brother, painting. The geomantic, or better, topomantic location of Heian-kyo is said to have been selected with regard to the mythological heavenly animals residing in the four "corners" of the universe. As writings dating from as far back as the Han dynasty reveal, it was believed that these animals, like all heavenly phenomena, mani­fested themselves on earth. Thus the Azure Dragon supposedly lived in a mountain stream in the east, the region of morning and spring. The home of the White Tiger lay in the mountains of the west, the region of evening and autumn. Morning and spring thereby rep­resent the time of ascending Yang, while evening and autumn represent the period of ascending Yin. The Black Tortoise was thought to dwell in the mountains of the north, the direction of midnight and winter, while the Red Bird resided in the plains of the south, the direction of noon and summer.

Behind this notion of the four heavenly animals lies the ancient Chinese system of inductive correlations, known as wu-xing in Chinese and go-дуо in Japanese. Long translated as "five elements", the concept has more recently been rendered as "five activities" or "five evolutive phases". This system originated in the fourth century BC and existed alongside the traditional Chinese notions of Yin and Yang. As the latter repre­sented an understanding of the universe in terms of polar opposites, so wu-xing proposed an equally dynamic interpretation of all reality in terms of five phases. These phases were symbolized by the ide­ograms for earth, wood, fire, metal and water. As shown in the diagram on page 43, the earth lies at the centre. The four segments of the circle correspond to the four cardinal points, to which are assigned wood (east), metal (west), water (north) and fire (south). Each of these go-дуо elements is attributed its own colour: earth is represented as yellow, wood as green, metal as white, water as black and fire as red. As visible in the diagram, these elements are part of a five-stage se­quence of concentric circles, and are followed by rings containing the five main bodily organs, five human emotions, the four seasons and four times of day, until finally arriving at the four mythological animals. Every­thing under the sun found its place within these five stages of transformation, from the five planets and five basic types of animal to the elements of inner man: the five tastes, five voices and five major organs, which in turn correspond to five emotions - anger, joy, sorrow, terror and thoughtful reflection.

This five-phase system of correspondences thus con­stitutes both a macrocosmograph and a psychogram. It creates continuous cross-references between the outer world of nature and the inner world of man. Even to­day, the many Chinese pharmacies still practising at a local level in Japan will invariably have on display a chart of these correspondences. A further indication of the importance of this system may be seen in the fact that both the city and gardens of Heian-kyo were laid out in the form of Chinese mandalas, and can thus be interpreted as microcosmic replicas of the universe.

The ancient Japanese belief that evil spirits always come from the north-east, from the ki-mon, the Devil's Gate, probably had its roots in a natural phenomenon: in China and Japan, the bitterly cold winter winds come from the north-east. China furthermore suffered barbarian attacks from this same direction throughout its history, while the hostile and militant tribes who populated the north-eastern regions of Japan were only finally subdued by the Yamato clan. Heian-kyo was safely protected from any such "threat" by Mount Hiei, the highest peak in the armchair of mountains cradling the former Japanese capital and lying exactly north-east of the city.

The gardens of the Heian period may be found in three different types of setting. Some are contained within the palaces of the emperor and the aristocracy and thus fully subordinate to their architectural sur­roundings. Others are sited on the city outskirts, acting as a kind of intermediary between the urban environ­ment and unspoilt nature. Others still adorn the main courtyards of Pure Land Buddhist temples.

Sakutei-ki: "The Classic of Garden-Making"

The Sakutei-ki opens with an excellent introduction to the ground rules of garden architecture in the Heian period:

„The main points to be observed when erecting rocks are:

- Design the pond with respect to its position in the land, follow its request; when you encounter a poten tial site, consider its atmosphere; think of the moun tains and waters of living nature and reflect constantly upon such settings;

- When copying the gardens of famous masters of old, bear in mind the intention of your patron and de sign your version according to your own taste.

-When recreating in your garden the famous natu ral sights of other parts of the world, assimilate such places of beauty so that they become truly your own. Let your garden express their overall effect. Rocks should thus be erected and harmoniously interrelated."

I have translated the first words of the scroll, ishi wo tateru, as "to erect rocks". This literal, perhaps unusual rendering is based on T Tamura's revised version of the Sakutei-ki. Tamura believes that the expression ishi wo tateru, and hence the practice of erecting rocks, lies at the heart of Japanese garden architecture of the Heian period. The author of the Sakutei-ki himself seems rather baffled by the concept, and observes: "It is gen erally speaking rare to erect rocks. Rocks are usually laid. We do not seem to use the phrase to lay rocks' in Japanese, however." I see this as just another example of the very concrete and direct language of historical texts. Abstractions such as "landscape", "scenery" or even "garden" were not yet common currency in Heian times. Instead, words which described a con crete, central activity within the garden-making process were used to denote garden design as a whole. Ishi wo tateru is thus used in other contemporary Heian sources as a synonym for garden architecture perse.³⁰ The elements within a garden are not seen as inani mate objects but as beings with their own character and even their own faces. The Sakutei-ki states: „When erecting rocks you should first carry big and small rocks into the garden and assemble them at one spot. Then you should place the standing rocks head up­wards, and the lying rocks face upwards, and distribute them across the garden..."

The design principles discussed within the Sakutei-ki fall into two types, reflecting two parallel attitudes to garden architecture. The first type are principles im ported from China; they clearly reflect the relatively strict precepts of Chinese geomancy, employ the mythological metaphors of crane and turtle and the Buddhist triad - all proof of the Heian "craze" for things Chinese. Principles of the second type describe -in considerably vaguer terms - the somewhat more in tuitional approaches appropriate to garden architec ture. According to Japanese scholar Masahiro Tanaka, this second type of principle reveals the "Japanese soul" of the Sakutei-ki.

Amongst these principles Tanaka identifies four con stantly recurring expressions, which are examined be low; they are also italicized in the translation above.

- Shotoku no sansui: literally "mountain-water of liv ing nature". To be borne in mind when erecting rocks, building waterfalls or creating streams and ponds. The expression implies that a garden should be created in the likeness of real nature.

- Kohan nishitagau: literally "following the request". When building a garden stream, an island or a water fall, it is vital to "follow" the "request" of rocks already existing on the site. The concept is frequently expressed simply with the word "follow". Heian gardeners saw rocks not as inorganic matter, but as beings with their own personalities to be treated with love and respect. A precondition of true creativity was the ability to achieve an inner stillness and emptiness within which their "requests" could be heard.

-Suchigaete: "asymmetrical" or "off-balance". Rocks, islands and ponds should always be placed asymmetrically within the otherwise highly symmetrical framework of Shinden-style palaces. The asymmetry of

nature is thereby set against the symmetry of the man-made artefact.

-Fuzei: literally "a breeze of feeling". In Heian times this term was used to describe the genius loci, the aes thetic spirit of a particular place. Fuzei may be discov ered in nature or created in the garden. Confusingly, perhaps, the same word is used to denote the personal artistic taste of the garden architect or his client. Fuzei somehow unites in one concept two apparent oppo-sites: the objectively-given aesthetic spirit of a place, and the subjectively-experienced aesthetic taste of the gardener or his patron.

Tanaka takes these four expressions as proof that the garden architects of the Heian period strove to become one with nature and then to follow its requests. Their aims naturally went far beyond merely copying nature. Their final compositions inevitably reflected the "tastes" of the garden-maker and client, themselves the subjects of cultural conditioning. The gardens most popular in the Heian period are gardens of islands in a pond, based as closely as possible on a natural scene. Often designed to illustrate the charms of the four sea sons or famous natural sights, their lyrical themes are the same of those of Heian poetry and yamato paint ing. The garden architecture of the Heian period is the art of the empathetic imitation of the external forms of nature.

The rock archetype: iwakura and iwasaka

The Japanese fascination, indeed obsession with binding, manipulating and even crippling plants for gardens or miniature landscapes thus has its roots in a cultural phenomenon dating back literally thousands of years.

The appreciation of the beauty of natural rock has been one of the most pronounced characteristics of the Japanese garden throughout its history. Rocks are employed in garden composition for their sensory, scenic and symbolic effects, a distinction David Slawson introduced. Many Japanese and Western academics trace this love of pure, unadulterated stone to the worship - possibly dating from neolithic times - of huge boulders and rocky outcrops such as those found in ancient Shinto shrines. These rocks were often bound with the shime-nawa ropes mentioned above to indicate their sacred character, as is the case in the Omiwa shrine near Nara. Rocks thus identified are accepted as go-shintai, the abode of a deity, leading many to conclude that prehistoric Shintoism must have undergone an animistic phase. It is my opinion, however, that the appreciation of the beauty of rocks, and the worship of a divine presence concealed behind them, is a relatively late phenomenon in the history of Shintoism. Such rocks were originally called iwakura and iwasaka, literally meaning "rock seat" and "rock boundary", suggesting that they were placed in preanimistic times as markers, denoting occupation of land or property. At some stage their original meaning and function were forgotten, and they acquired religious as well as territorial significance. Later still even similar naturally occurring (not man-made) rock-formations came to be seen as abodes of deities.

Mirei Shigemori, on the other hand, argues that certain unique natural stone and rock formations were considered sacred from the very beginning. To these were added, over the course of time, other rocks, thereby creating a sacred precinct which was at least in part man-made. In the final phase, a particular sanctuary might have all its rocks imported. This marked the beginning of Japanese garden architecture proper.

However different these standpoints, both underline the special status afforded the natural rock in Japan. Castle walls aside, natural stone has never played a mapr role as a building material in traditional Japanese architecture. On the contrary, stone is finely appreciated for the subtle distinctions of its form, colour and texture, and an individual rock may even be assigned the human characteristics of head and feet, front and back. Rock has thereby acquired archetypal status, and a Japanese garden without an unusual rock or rock group, natural or carved, is quite inconceivable.

Triadic compositions: The harmonious balance of odd numbers

Arrangements of rocks in groups of three probably date as far back as the gardens of the Nara era. The Sakutei-ki, the oldest text on Japanese garden architec ture, distinguishes between two different types of such rock compositions: hinbunseki-gumi and sanzonseki-gumi. The first, hinbunseki-gumi, is an arrangement of rocks based on the shape of the Chinese character for "articles", whereby the triadic composition is devel oped chiefly within the horizontal plane. Sanzonseki-gumi, on the other hand, is the name given to compo sitions recalling sculptures of the Buddhist Trinity. Here the triadic composition is developed within the vertical plane. Such rock triads appear throughout the history of the Japanese garden - both in splendid isolation and as part of a larger sequence, perhaps beside a waterfall or on the banks of a pond.

The significance of these Buddhist-influenced rock arrangements lies not in their religious symbolism but in their aesthetic composition: a large rock in the cen tre with two smaller rocks on each side. I do not accept the prevalent theory that "aesthetic values generally originate in a religious sphere; they develop and gain autonomy as religious values decline'"0. It fails to take account of the triad, a deep-rooted archetype of aes thetic composition which was only later adopted by a variety of religious iconographies.

In Japan, the use of three components - one large, one small and one medium-sized - to create a dynamic balance of odd numbers is not merely limited to gar den architecture, but lies at the heart of Noh theatre and the art of flower arrangement (ikebana). Thus three basic compositional elements of ikebana are the "branch of truth" (the tallest), the "accompanying branch" (slightly shorter) and the "flowing one" (the shortest). They are usually referred to as fen (heaven), chi (earth) and jin (man), the archetypal Chinese defini tion of the tripartite structure of the universe. A later text on garden architecture defines this same compositional archetype as a trinity of forces, one hori zontal, one diagonal and one vertical, which corre spond to the triad of Heaven, Earth and Man