Kiyohara no Fukayabu

Our poet this month, Kiyohara no Fukayabu, is from another one of the 'family groups' in the Hyaku-nin Isshu. He was the grandfather of Kiyohara no Motosuke (from my first set), and the great-grandfather of the famous Sei Shonagon (from my second set). His poem seems rather light-hearted, but is of course subject to any number of interpretations. The theme is that favorite Japanese one of 'transience', but it's not cherry blossoms this time ...

This series has been under way for more than three years now, and I seem to have settled down into quite regular patterns of work. The carving takes far and away the most time, and I spend a good three weeks of each month sitting crosslegged at my carving bench, with my nose just a few inches above the block. It's not a very 'sociable' activity, as it demands a fair level of concentration, and I work best when the house is quiet, with the kids out at school or asleep in bed. Once I start carving though, the house doesn't stay quiet for long. No, I don't mean the telephone or doorbell, I mean my stereo! I have always enjoyed listening to music, and now that I find myself in a situation that allows 'listen while you work', I can indulge myself for hours every day.

What do I listen to? Well, my record shelf reflects all the 'phases' I've been through. As a teenager I was a serious classical flute student, and then studied classical guitar (and even built some). I followed this with a stint at playing baritone saxophone in a college jazz band, then played flute and tenor saxophone with a hotel dance orchestra, and still later played electric bass for a while with a (very bad!) rock band. As a result, I still enjoy listening to all these styles of music, plus some that weren't yet invented back when I was actively involved with music - electronic synthesizers, etc.

The wonderful sound quality of modern CD's is astonishing to someone like me who grew up with cheap scratchy record players, and with nobody else in the house to be annoyed I am free to turn up the volume on my player to the level where I can completely bathe in the sound. I've got the speakers positioned to focus right onto my 'carving cushion', and a flashing light attached to the telephone so that I don't have to worry about missing incoming calls. Heaven!

If I ever get to a point where I have some time to spare (I guess maybe in 1999, after this project is done!), I'd like to take up making music again. Until then, I'll simply enjoy my role as a listener. (I wonder what kind of music the carver Inoue-san listened to back in the 1770's ....?)

I hope you enjoy the music the print this month. Coming up next time, Kentoku Ko.

July 1992

Translation - Tom Galt 1982 Princeton University Press