Flower Power (生花)

Ikebana is a window to the soul.

If these words printed on the cover of the English pamphlet are to be believed, then my soul is overcrowded and hastily thrown together. A soul desperately longing to be complexly pondered, but secretly knowing that it lacks the form and composition necessary to be regarded as anything other than a child's "art project."

The phrase "space alien like" was used by one of the elderly female spectators to describe my masterwork. Perhaps my soul most closely resembles that of a space alien.

Ikebana is the disciplined traditional Japanese art of flower arrangement. Moreover simply throwing flowers in a vase, ikebana is the precise and deliberate placement of branches, flowers, leaves, and blooms to create symbolism and evoke an emotional response from the viewer. Arrangements are exercises in minimalist composition, with particular attention being paid to shape, line, and form.

At least this was true of all the master works on display in the 7th floor exhibition hall at Takashimaya Department Store. The same cannot be said for my foray into the flower arranging world.

My friend Cara and I sat down at the hands-on table, clearly intended for children half our age. After what seemed like an hour of assorted shuffling and nervous glances from the man and woman running the craft area, I verbally reassured them that we could speak Japanese.

With both of the volunteers releasing a huge sigh of relief, the floodgates were now open, and various sprigs, twigs, leaves, and flowers instantly appeared by my side. I hadn't intended for the afternoon's friendly flower activity to suddenly become Iron Chef: Battle Flora, but, in retrospect, I suppose it was inevitable.

Team "MAN" was comprised of myself and the stoic male craft volunteer, who spoke his suggestions which such passivity that I could only assume he had long since achieved personal enlightenment through ikebana. Staring at my recently moistened dark green frog with no clue where to begin, I stuck a single yellow daisy in the center, and, happy with my minimalism, turned to the volunteer and proclaimed with a huge smile, "I've done it!"

His hand began nudging the damp mass of twigs and leaves closer to me. I guess I wasn't done quite yet. As if bound by some cosmic law of art non-intervention, my sensei would select each piece of material for me, for instance a whimsical fern frond or stately carnation, but provide absolutely no guidance as to what to do with it.

Twisting the foliage around with all the precision of a child playing with his first Spirograph, I did my best to shoot the appropriate pathetic puppy dog eyes to my master. Each time I was greeted with a cool and calm,

"Yes...that is one possible option."

Meanwhile, team "WOMAN" had long since inserted several flowers into their frog, and seemed to be feeding off of each other's creative ideas and enthusiasm. Something about Cara's placement of a particularly tall daisy, with two branches to the side resembling arms, seemed to represent, "the essence of konnichiwa." At least this was the consensus from the elderly women running the play-by-play commentary behind us.

Indeed, taking a moment to look up from my flowers, it became clear that everyone in the entire exhibition hall, staff and visitor alike, had gathered around the small craft table to watch us. Something about the sight of two foreigners trying their hand at ikebana proved more captivating than the works of the grand masters on display. Heck, I think we even gave Disney's Main Street Electrical Parade a run for its money.

It wasn't long before the cameras came out. Flashes began erupting around me from all directions and I was temporarily blinded. I can't help but feel that the active expression of my soul through flowers was somehow damaged in the process.

I brought my creation to a close soon after the photo shoot, having more than adequately suffocated my original daisy with so many contrasting plant elements. Team "WOMAN" was the clear winner of Battle Flora. Their arrangement actually resembled something that could be considered ikebana. I can't say that I received many compliments while proudly displaying my Franken-flowers.

At this very moment, somewhere in Ehime Prefecture a group of art lovers and well-to-dos are planning next year's ikebana exhibition. I would not be the slightest bit surprised if photos of Cara and I serve as a central element in their advertising campaign.

I'm envisioning a two-page spread in the local paper with the headline, "Flowers promote cross-cultural understanding."

B.E.W.