*English below
※二人展「PONYOH」に掲示していた文章です。
https://miyawrry.com/blog28655
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能画の話
佐渡ヶ島には、能舞台が30もあります。（日本の能舞台の1/3になるのだとか！）屋外での薪能が盛んで、本当に能舞台の前で火が焚かれます。虫の声と火のパチパチする音の中で、稽古をした一般の人が演じています。銚子では小さい頃からひびき会のお囃子をやっているし、佐渡でも鬼太鼓を始めました。動きの少ないお能には特に興味はなかったのですが、銚子出身の能楽師の安田登さんの本を読んでから興味が湧いてきました。
お能の笛は「能管」と言って、笛の中に小さい竹の筒が仕込まれています。それによって笛自体の音が元々狂わされています。一本一本音が違うので、2本以上の笛が合奏することはありません。人が声でうたう、「謡い」というのも面白くて、ドレミのように音が決まっていません。絶対的な音階ではなくて、上・中・下みたいな音形というイメージらしいです。たくさんの人が関わるのに、それぞれの部門は一緒に稽古せず、「申し合わせ」と呼ばれるリハーサルが一回あるだけです。演目の細かな解釈も人それぞれで、体の底から出された音形を、本番でぶつけ合う。ある時は共鳴し、ある時は不協和になる。超古典邦楽なのに、現代のジャズにも通じる・・・。音楽の部分だけでもこの通りで、すごく面白そうだと思いました。
こうして安田さんの本を読んでから自分であれこれ調べるうち、お能の笛をやってみたいと思い立ち、3ヶ月ほど一人で能管を吹いていました。お能の絵は、その頃に描き始めたものです。歴史上の人物や神様や幽霊が平気で出てくるような謎の世界観への興味は募るけど、演目自体は全然知らないのです。「内面が充実しているからこそ、少ない動きで魅せることができる」というお能の考え方をなんとなく知ったとき、銚子のお囃子に宿る漁師的な身体性を外へ発散させず、内面的な充実と捉えてみる。すると墨絵という省略の美は、自分ともお能とも相性がいい気がすると思いました。
一人で笛を吹くのに行き詰まってきたので笛の先生を訪ねてみたら、先輩から謡い（八人くらいいる謡い手）もやらないとお能の笛にはならないと言われたので謡いのお稽古も始めました。それから、あっという間に薪能の舞台に乗ることができ、テレビやニューヨークタイムズのオンラインの記事にちらっと載ったり、竹でできた大道具などを作るようになりました。腹から声を出すことは生活のいろんな場面への影響があるようで面白いです。
今回の墨絵の多くは、明治から昭和にかけて活躍した「月岡耕漁」の浮世絵の構図を参照しています。文字は漢字や変体仮名の鏡文字を多く使いました。もともと鏡文字が好きなのですが、お能も鏡と関係が深いです。能舞台の象徴のような松の絵は、「鏡板」と呼ばれます。お能は、神様が宿る松に向かって演じていて、その松が鏡に写ったものという設定なのだとか。絵もそれに倣い、鏡に写ったものとして、神仏に向かって描いているつもりです。
Noh Paintings
Sado Island is home to as many as 30 Noh stages (reportedly one-third of all Noh stages in Japan!). Outdoor Takigino(bonfire Noh) is popular here, and fires are truly lit in front of the stages. Amidst the chirping of insects and the crackling of the flames, ordinary people who have practiced perform on stage. I have been involved in the Hiki-kai ohayashi(festival music) in Choshi since I was a child, and I have also started Ondeko (demon drumming) in Sado. I wasn’t particularly interested in Noh because of its minimal movement, but my interest was piqued after reading books by Noboru Yasuda, a Noh performer from Choshi.
The flute used in Noh is called a Nohkan, which contains a small bamboo tube inside. This tube intentionally “distorts” the flute’s natural pitch. Since every single flute has a different sound, two or more flutes never play in unison. The vocal part, called Utai (chanting), is also fascinating; it doesn’t have fixed notes like Do-Re-Mi. Instead, it is based on melodic shapes, such as “High,” “Middle,” and “Low.” Despite the many people involved, the different departments do not practice together; there is only a single rehearsal called Moushiawase. Each performer brings their own interpretation of the play, and during the actual performance, they clash these gut-level sounds against one another. Sometimes they resonate, and sometimes they create dissonance. It is an ultra-classical form of Japanese music, yet it shares a common spirit with modern jazz. Even just the musical aspect seemed incredibly interesting to me.
After reading Mr. Yasuda’s books and doing my own research, I decided I wanted to try the Noh flute and spent about three months practicing the Nohkan on my own. It was around that time that I began creating these Noh paintings. While my interest in this mysterious world—where historical figures, gods, and ghosts appear as a matter of course—continued to grow, I didn’t actually know much about the plays themselves. When I learned about the Noh philosophy that “minimal movement is captivating because it is backed by inner fullness,” I began to view the “fisherman-like physicality” inherent in Choshi’s festival music not as an outward release, but as an internal enrichment. I felt that the “beauty of omission” in Sumi-e (ink wash painting) was naturally compatible with both myself and the world of Noh.
When I hit a wall practicing the flute alone, I sought out a teacher. I was told by a senior member that I couldn’t truly become a Noh flute player without also learning Utai (performed by a group of about eight chanters), so I began practicing chanting as well. From there, I was soon able to perform on a Takigino stage, appeared briefly in television programs and a New York Times online article, and started creating large bamboo props. Using my voice from the gut seems to affect various aspects of daily life, which I find quite interesting.
Many of the ink paintings in this collection reference the compositions of Tsukioka Kogyo, an artist active from the Meiji to Showa eras. For the text, I frequently used “mirror writing” (reversed characters) for Kanji and Hentaigana. I have always liked mirror writing, and Noh itself has a deep connection with mirrors. The painting of the pine tree, which is symbolic of the Noh stage, is called the Kagami-ita (Mirror Board). It is said that Noh is performed toward the pine tree where a deity resides, and that the painted pine is a reflection of that tree in a mirror. Following this tradition, I intend for these paintings to be reflections, created as if facing the gods and buddhas.