Kakinomoto no Hitomaro

Here is the fifth in this year's series, depicting one of the most famous of all Japanese poets, Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, who worked in the late seventh century. I found that bit of information 'seventh century' in a textbook on my shelf, and as I type the phrase here tonight I am suddenly struck by just what it means. It tells us that this man was living, working and writing his poetry over 1300 years ago. 1300 years! More than 50 generations of men have lived and died between today and the time that he created his song!

I try and think about him on the day that he wrote this poem. Perhaps he stood there looking into space as in Shunsho's design (itself created only 215 years ago), or perhaps he put it together in his mind as he lay alone before sleep. Did he foresee, as he brushed the characters into his notebook, that at this immense distance in the future, his poem would be known by heart by countless millions of people? How could he have imagined that it would still live in the minds of men? Probably he didn't think of such things. Perhaps it was written simply to catch the attention of a certain lady one day ...

The names and lives of his fellow men are forgotten in the distant mists. But because he had the skill to take 31 simple syllables and weave of them a miniature melody that catches the imagination, he still lives with us to this day. I am glad that in my very small way, I can help spread his words a little wider, and give him a little 'boost' along in his journey down through history.

Of course, I can't help but wonder about my prints in the same light. Let's see .... 1300 years from now will be 3290. 3290! Is it possible that in that year, people will still be looking at some of these prints - by then old, tattered scraps of paper? Will they know what they are looking at? Will they understand who Hitomaro was? Who Shunsho was? And will they have any idea at all who 'Carver/Printer - David Bull' was? I would like to think so. You who are collecting my prints today; I think of you in two ways - as patrons, without whom these prints would not be made; and secondly as caretakers, who will ensure that they are passed on for future generations to enjoy. (But of course, I wouldn't mind if you took a peek at them yourself occasionally!)

Thinking this way starts to make me a bit nervous. I guess when I'm working on next month's print, I'd better hone my blade just a bit sharper, carve just a bit more carefully, and try to print the colour just a bit more smoothly. After all, if millions of people are going to be watching ...