Hana Mochi and Re:Standard
Jan. 1st, 2009 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
imomusHana mochi are artificial flowers made of pulpy, glutinous, sweetened rice in pink and white. You make them at New Year. It's a tradition from up in the mountains, where there are no winter flowers. To make the New Year's celebrations festive, people organize workshops in which they press "buds" of sticky rice pulp to bare branches and twigs, making them into floral sprigs and spays.
Our small collective worked recently in a room heated by a wood-burning ceramic stove to make hana mochi, artificial rice flowers. Not only were we making artificial flowers, but we were -- some of us -- artificial Japanese people.
In order to prepare our hearts and minds better for the task of becoming Japanese-of-the-mountains, we pored over copies of Re:Standard magazine while drinking tea during our breaks. The wood crackled in the ceramic stove as we applied ourselves with dedication to our reading.
Re:Standard magazine is published by Little More, an independent Tokyo publisher and gallery. It is a magazine dedicated to the re-assessment of the normal. The first issue carried the cover story "A Life With Thermos Flasks". A Thermos flask is a simple, normal item, but it can suggest something extraordinary; a field trip with friends during which a magical moment arrives, a moment in which -- in the middle of nowhere, perhaps -- one is refreshed by hot tea.
"With your head and your instinct," say the editors of Re:Standard, "you should judge what you really need. The standard things in our daily lives, we would like to translate as futsu -- normal things. This is a magazine in which we think about normal things -- futsu -- and necessary things, neither too old nor to new. These things -- abandoned in the rush for progress -- can become our new standards."
This magazine about the normal and the not-so-new has a special interest in "slow photography" -- old cameras, old film. An analog camera, like a Thermos flask, is an under-appreciated friend, a device you take on a field trip with a small group of friends. With the right philosophy, it becomes a tool for the reassessment of "standard" things encountered on the way -- normal things which have become slightly neglected because of the arrival of new things. With the camera one records, and appreciates, them. And from the Thermos flask one swigs hot tea, admiring the hana mochi.
Our small collective worked recently in a room heated by a wood-burning ceramic stove to make hana mochi, artificial rice flowers. Not only were we making artificial flowers, but we were -- some of us -- artificial Japanese people.
In order to prepare our hearts and minds better for the task of becoming Japanese-of-the-mountains, we pored over copies of Re:Standard magazine while drinking tea during our breaks. The wood crackled in the ceramic stove as we applied ourselves with dedication to our reading.
Re:Standard magazine is published by Little More, an independent Tokyo publisher and gallery. It is a magazine dedicated to the re-assessment of the normal. The first issue carried the cover story "A Life With Thermos Flasks". A Thermos flask is a simple, normal item, but it can suggest something extraordinary; a field trip with friends during which a magical moment arrives, a moment in which -- in the middle of nowhere, perhaps -- one is refreshed by hot tea.
"With your head and your instinct," say the editors of Re:Standard, "you should judge what you really need. The standard things in our daily lives, we would like to translate as futsu -- normal things. This is a magazine in which we think about normal things -- futsu -- and necessary things, neither too old nor to new. These things -- abandoned in the rush for progress -- can become our new standards."
This magazine about the normal and the not-so-new has a special interest in "slow photography" -- old cameras, old film. An analog camera, like a Thermos flask, is an under-appreciated friend, a device you take on a field trip with a small group of friends. With the right philosophy, it becomes a tool for the reassessment of "standard" things encountered on the way -- normal things which have become slightly neglected because of the arrival of new things. With the camera one records, and appreciates, them. And from the Thermos flask one swigs hot tea, admiring the hana mochi.
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Sorry--nothing about flowers
Date: 2009-01-01 09:12 pm (UTC)First, the usual apology, which I've heard myself saying too many times before: I've had neither the time nor the energy to more than glance at this blog for months and months, and I know because of that neglect I've lost out on the copious outpouring of gifts you bestow upon your readers, not the least of which are your illuminating ruminations on everything from pop culture to advanced socioeconomic theory (negligible difference!). But today I decided to start off the new year right by dropping this comment and listening to the latest, which I've had for a while now but have been waiting to treat myself with after listening to scads of new but far less exciting musical offerings.
The last new Momus release I listened to within the lost world of an extinct volcanic crater in the tropics, and as I wrote here before, so far that's been my only listen--yet it's more alive in my memory than some of the others I've listened to dozens of times. I was going to say that one might be your best--but now I might have to revise my opinion, since I've given "Joemus" a digital whirl, this time on a glacial highland with snow drifting around me. I haven't read here about how the album came into existence, and I haven't looked up the words yet (are lyric sheets too much for ask for these days?), so the music and words are just a massive tangle in my brain right now--denser, more complex, it seems at this first listen, than anything you've produced yet--and that's saying a lot!
Comparisons are odious, but I am reminded just a bit of moments from the first side of King Crimson's "Lizard" and Peter Gabriel's debut album (things Joe and Nick have probably never even heard nor would want to hear), though I am certain the true influences and inspirations are much wider ranging, from Stanshallian vaudeville of course to Beckett or Brecht to ancient Hebridean rites. All in all, it felt like a three-ring circus, a Latin carnival, an American state fair, a Las Vegas revue, and a week at Bayreuth all crammed onto the same floodlit stage. Some are no doubt saying it's too busy, but that's like saying Stockhausen is too cerebral. Besides, I heard a lot of fresh open spaces and becalmed passages in there, too. Furthermore, unlike most cases of this sort, the covers are no more impressive (as compositions) than the Joemus originals. And it's a tremendous amount of fun!
I've long since given up trying to describe, defend, or deconstruct Momus's music, so I better stop right there. It looks like this year I'm going to have to sit down with all the Momus albums (including "Ocky Milk") once again and really try to learn them better. That includes all the old material you've just made available once again (thankfully replacing all my tattered and dubiously acquired mp3s, though I'd still much rather have the CDs!). Your track-by-track analysis of them is bound to enlighten me further--though I probably wrongly sense a certain sadness or despair in the whole project; are you Prospero drowning his books or Kafka throwing his manuscripts onto the grate? Never mind, I'm more than eager to see what comes after flood or fire.
(Just to let you know, a friend, not knowing I am a faithful follower, downloaded the album from emusic and admitted he was really enjoying it. So word must be spreading... )
Re: Sorry--nothing about flowers
Date: 2009-01-01 09:32 pm (UTC)It's interesting you should mention Gabriel -- there's been an ongoing reassessment of him on Click Opera over the last couple of months. I clutched my head in bewilderment on hearing The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, then saw the light in the form of some ancient Genesis TV appearances. I haven't really explored his solo work at all, but I'm sure I will.
That was quick!
Date: 2009-01-01 10:30 pm (UTC)I must admit I've only very casually listened to "Joemus,"
while I was doing my morning ablutions and donning my gayest
weeds and tweeds, but even so it seemed to me both a
beautiful, seductive thing of wonder and another reason why
"sui generis" is my favorite genre. I can't wait to get back
to it!
Having discovered Roxy Music far too late in their career, I
first became aware of this creature called an "Eno" on the
first Genesis album I ever bought, the aforementioned "Lamb
Lies Down on Broadway," still (I say with adolescent nostalgia)
one of my favorite rock albums of the seventies, as big,
labored, dated, and bloated as it is. Look carefully at the liner
notes and you'll find Brian credited with "Enossifications," a
term which bewildered me at the time. If you ever dare go
back to the lp, listen for some synthesis of the sounds in
some of the longer instrumental passages (I think--or is it on
only one track?). Anyway, if it weren't for that mystery I
might never have gone on to explore the greater mystery of Mr.
Eno soon after... whose first album, I might add, sounds to me
like the older bastard half-stepchild's uncle of "Joemus.) I never
saw those Peter Gabriel costumes and videos until recently--
and I found them surprisingly graceful and Mr. Gabriel quite
pretty in his springtime.
I'm looking forward to that Vivian Stanshall restrospectacle
down the page!