Flowers in bloom manifest the changing beauty of nature over time. Kyotoites treasure them as symbols of not only nature but life. Flower-inspired artworks are created in various fields in Kyoto. A Japanese-style painter uses folding fans as canvases. A metal artisan conveys the transience of flowers. A photographer confronts life by capturing withering flowers. A priest and his wife float seasonal flowers in water to comfort worshippers. Discover how Kyotoites express their love of flowers.
Elegantly blooming flowers manifest the beauty of nature changing over time.
Kyotoites hold great affection for flowers, as symbols of nature and life.
Works inspired by such blossoms are created by a diverse panoply of artists.
One Nihonga artist is enthralled by flowers, and captures their beauty in her work.
Flowers always teach me
to be gentle, bright, and vivid.
Painting draws me closer
to flowers and brings me joy.
A metal artist produces delicate flowers cut from metal plates.
For me, flowers are at once
delicate yet powerful. They energize me.
I want to energize people and have them
feel the delicate, soft expression.
Core Kyoto explores the local residents' sense of floral beauty, through their artistic creations.
Water-filled basins with colorful floating flowers adorn a Buddhist temple.
Hana-chouzu is a style of aqueous floral arrangement created to resemble a jewelry box.
Yokoku-ji sits deep in the mountains outside Nagaokakyo, a city southwest of Kyoto.
Over 1,200 years old, this Buddhist temple draws worshippers searching for cures to eye ailments.
It also enjoys fame for the many hydrangeas which bloom on its grounds in June and July.
The bushes were planted in 1996, in a concerted effort to increase tourism to the city.
Chief priest Kusaka Shunei and his wife, Megumi, care for and maintain the flowers.
It began as an effort to create a new
tourist spot by making us a hydrangea haven.
We started with only a few bushes, and
it's expanded over the course of 20 years.
Now, some 5,000 bushes brighten up the temple precincts.
The Kusakas planted each one to create a floral scene.
Despite its reputation for hydrangeas, the mountainous location is difficult to access.
With dwindling visitors, the temple's future was in jeopardy.
In 2017, the Kusakas introduced the hana-chouzu style of arrangement, and the temple attracted more visitors, especially young women.
A purification basin is a fixture in most temples and shrines.
Worshippers rinse and purify their hands and mouths here, before entering.
The Kusakas float flowers gathered from the grounds or gifted by worshippers in the receptacle and post photos on social media.
Over time, the temple's account attracted increased followers, and drew nationwide feedback.
At first, I just did this for my own pleasure.
Then, I wondered what flowers would be cute.
Suddenly, we were trending on
social media throughout Japan.
It was unexpected, and I'm not sure
how it happened, but I'm so happy.
The beauty of the arrangements delighted visitors, and word of the "hana-chouzu" began to spread.
The new stream of worshippers has saved this ancient temple.
I saw the pretty flowers on
social media and wanted to visit.
I really love coming here.
I like choosing kimono with colors
that harmonize with the "hana-chouzu".
The Kusakas use blossoms that tend to bloom out of sight.
We focus on hidden spots, cut flowers
from the back, and float them in water.
We give center stage to blossoms
that rarely see the light of day.
During the early summer, different shades of hydrangeas are randomly floated in the basin.
It's colorful. Green hydrangeas
are unusual, aren't they?
Megumi invariably creates the final design.
The flowers resemble cute sweets.
They look like delicious colorful candies.
We all have worries,
be they large or small.
I hope visitors gaze at the "hana-chozu"
and temple grounds, and find peace.
It'd make me happy if they descended
the mountain with a positive outlook.
I hope this becomes an element of
Kyoto culture, rather than just a passing fad.
Goryo Jinja was founded in 794, when Kyoto became the capital, and it attracted followers as a sanctuary that wards off epidemics.
Roof irises come into full bloom on the shrine grounds in early May.
The irises bloom only
at this time of year.
They are as irreplaceable, beautiful,
and delightful, like my own child.
Sadaie Ayuko is a "Nihonga," or Japanese-style, artist.
She captures the beauty of nature with a soft touch and gentle colors.
She is referred to as a "flower artist," as many of her works have a floral theme.
Sadaie emphasizes draft sketching as part of her technique.
Sketching is a form of information gathering: finding the essence of the subject through deep observation and internalizing that discovery.
I want to depict flowers.
Not their shape -
but the gentleness, warmth,
and beauty I find in them.
That's what I get
from sketching.
I bring that back to the studio
and paint using Nihonga colors.
Sadaie grew up in Kyoto's neighboring Shiga Prefecture amidst nature, where she painted flowers throughout her childhood.
In the third grade, she began drawing a plant or flower that captured her fancy each day, and continued doing so for 1,000 days.
She later chose to study Nihonga at Kyoto City University of Arts, Japan's oldest art school.
May, and Sadaie is preparing for a solo exhibition at a purveyor of Kyoto-style folding fans.
Established in 1823, this Kyoto fan shop has developed deep ties with painters active in the Kyoto art world, producing fans as works of art.
The shop boasts fan-shaped paintings by various artists, including members of Kyoto's painting circles.
Sadaie was given special access to rough drafts of old folding fans to use for reference in her own work.
I can feel the breath
of each artist.
It's as if the artwork of Kyoto Nihonga artists
is speaking, singing, living, and breathing.
Their techniques are smooth yet with depth,
as if the flowers were blooming -
a level I hope to reach someday.
Much stimulated, Sadaie prepares for her solo exhibition.
One flower she selected to feature is the cotton rose
a one-day flower that blooms white in the morning, deepens to dark pink in the afternoon, and withers by the following morning.
She begins with an outline, capturing the flowers' essence with painstaking effort.
Her lines are intermittently faint and strong, defining softness and three-dimensionality.
The work is simple, but these lines
contain a vast amount of information.
The key is to figure how out much
you can incorporate in a single stroke.
Next, she adds color.
Natural mineral pigments are made by dissolving finely ground particles of ore.
Whitewash derived from oyster shells is used as white paint.
Sadaie applies white to the petal tips, then quickly draws it out with a moistened brush before it dries, to create gradation.
Once dry, she applies another layer of whitewash, to achieve a three-dimensional effect.
She now places water on the leaves, adds paint, and brushes it out to create shades of green.
I love how the painter cannot control
every aspect of the design.
I enjoy giving in to the shading process,
rather than trying to control it.
The completed artwork reflects the cotton roses' strength, splendor, and elegance.
A single faded blossom...
Another about to wither...
These photos are from the series entitled, "Withered Blossoms."
Photographer Osaka Kengo focuses not only on fresh blooms, but also those nearing the end of their lifespan.
Flowers are a motif,
rather than a theme.
One of my major themes is a common
Buddhist term, "impermanence."
We live then die -
the world is constantly changing.
I examine my own understanding of
these changes and how to perceive them.
The Buddhist concept of impermanence teaches that nothing remains static, as it continually changes over time.
In his work, Osaka often visits Nishi Hongwan-ji, the head temple of the Jodo Shinshu Hongwan-ji sect.
It was his interactions at the temple that deepened his understanding of impermanence.
Osaka has been familiar with the teachings of Shinto and Buddhism since childhood,
and they underpin his photographic themes.
I was born into a family
of Shinto believers,
but I was also introduced to the
Jodo Shinshu Buddhist teachings.
So I have had quite a lot
of religious influence.
It has been of immense help
as I think about my theme of time,
including the concept
of impermanence.
Photographing ikebana works spurred his interest in flowers.
Ikebana, an art form originated in Kyoto, focuses on arranging flowers and leaves in a vase for appreciation.
Ikebana also uses other plant parts - branches, buds, and berries - in all stages of their life.
The essential philosophy is that all living things are beautiful in every stage of life.
Osaka searches for blossoms at his favorite flower shop.
Basically, I never purchase flowers with
ideas of how I will photograph them.
I enter the shop and feel
the beauty of the seasonal flowers.
I purchase a few, take them
back to my studio, and gaze at them.
Osaka, of course, also focuses on beautifully blooming flowers, not just those which are wilting or withered.
His photographs depict flowers from birth to death, capturing the inerrant flow of time.
It is often said in Buddhism that
of course "we are alive" -
and part of us is proactive and active, but
more importantly we're "being kept alive."
My fascination with flowers is that
they help me feel this concept anew.
And I am repeatedly
reminded of this.
Osaka held a photo exhibition at a city gallery in May 2023.
The works all portrayed the lifespan of flowers.
Although the color had faded, I clearly saw
its vividness, and found it beautiful.
I sensed the life force, the strength
of the flower though it had wilted.
I could superimpose
my own timespan -
on the lifespan of the flowers
as they withered.
I gained a unique perspective.
These works express time, life, and the vitality of flowers.
A mere puff of breath seems enough to blow away the dandelion fluff.
Yet, this is made of metal.
Suzuki Shouta is a metal artisan.
He uses the attributes of metal to create artwork capturing the life force of blossoming flowers and the passage of time.
I found that metal was strong enough
to allow the expression of fine lines.
And I could opt for natural metallic
colors along with rust.
I was surprised to discover
the many colors metal produces.
Engaging those colors is what
led me to create these works.
"Fluff Dandelion" is Suzuki's prize work.
It captures the moment that a breeze wafts a single strand of fluff into flight.
I don't feel I am creating
botanical specimens,
but sharing an extraordinary scene
from a natural tableau I witnessed.
Metalwork culture began to flourish once the capital moved to Kyoto, in the late 8th century.
Skilled craftsmen moved here to create swords, small containers, and other items,
and their advanced techniques survive today.
Suzuki was born and reared in Miyagi Prefecture, some 800km north of Kyoto.
His interest in natural plants began at an early age, stimulated by a grandfather who grew fruit and tended wild grasses.
He studied metalworking at university, and later moved to Kyoto, the center of this artform.
He focuses on floral themes in his own metal creations, and incorporates roadside flowers into his works.
This is amazing.
You can find stone walls like this
here and there in Kyoto.
I love the way flowers emerge between
the stones, showing a great life force.
Kyoto has innumerable spots famed for cherry blossoms, one of Suzuki's favorite flowers.
He often produces works highlighting them.
He creates the petals using silver, a color close to the natural shade of cherry blossoms.
Suzuki wields hammers and chisels to create veins in the petals.
Adjustments bring out the lightness of the flower petals.
Suzuki holds thin silver rods over fire to round out the tips, producing the stamens.
He employs copper for the leaves to represent their natural color.
A specialized chisel helps him express the unevenness of the leaf veins.
There are so many invisible veins.
I try to reflect their softness
by working the metal.
Once the parts are completed, Suzuki begins the welding.
He carefully determines the form by imagining the direction the wind is blowing the blossoms.
The flower and leaf placement
change the work's structure.
Determining the position of each flower
and the direction of the leaves -
is key to the composition process.
Suzuki colors the metal with rust through oxidation.
After the rusting solution is applied and allowed to sit, the color of the leaves begins to change.
As the rust oxidizes, it shifts to a greenish blue.
In the final step, gold dust is sprinkled over the centers of the flowers.
The two petals placed atop the leaf capture the moment a breeze whisks them away.
For me, flowers are at once
delicate yet powerful. They energize me.
I want to energize people and have them
feel the delicate, soft expression.
Flower painter Sadaie Ayuko awaits the opening of her solo exhibition,
to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the founding of this Kyoto fan shop.
Dozens of her fan-shaped floral artworks are on display.
The flowers were painted
with lovely, soft colors.
I was delighted to find numerous works
expressing the strong life force of plants.
When inspecting paintings on fan paper, we only
focus on how they'll look as finished fans.
But fan-shaped works by
Nihonga artists have unique qualities.
I learned so much from
the exhibited artwork.
Sadaie's fan painting of cotton roses was among the displayed items, capturing a beauty that lasts but a single day.
I wonder to what degree I can express gentleness
and how delicate a touch I can evoke.
Flowers convey a light that gently envelops us
and blooms in our heart.
That's the essence of a flower to me.
I want to communicate the gentleness,
the warmth, and the light.
Flower blossoms delineate nature's passage of time.
Inner peace, the preciousness of life: this is what Kyotoites strive to find through their flower art.