Taira no Kanemori

About six years ago, when I was arranging the 100 poets into groups of 10 suitable for each year's work, I considered many points (as I have described elsewhere), but one thing that did not concern me was their traditional chronological order. It was thus a bit of a surprise to me this month when I realized that two of the poets had come out side-by-side; last month's Mibu no Tadami (#41) and this month's Taira no Kanemori (#40). But it is not just this simple chronology that connects them - the poems themselves have a very strong connection. Apparently, they were both created during a poetry contest held one day back in 960. In this type of affair, poets came forward two at a time, were given a theme, and would then produce poems on the spot. One of the two would then be declared the 'winner' of that particular contest. It seems that Tadami and Kanemori were paired off that day, given a theme relating to 'love', and came up with these two poems, the one we saw last month, and this one:

Which one do you think should have been the winner? I have to confess that I wouldn't have the slightest idea about how to judge any particular poem over another. What does 'better' mean in this kind of context? What does 'winner' mean? Is the winning poem better 'art' than the losing one?

I cannot now answer questions like these, but back when I was a teenager I saw nothing strange in the idea of 'artistic' competitions. I was studying music then, classical flute. In and around our community there were a number of so-called 'music festivals' every year (actually competitions), and I was an avid competitor. I entered as a solo flute player, as a member of our school band, as a member of various chamber ensembles, as a conductor, and as a composer. How did I do? Well, let me just say that I won some, and I lost some. But I am disturbed now by remembering some of my feelings at the time; anger at a judge who gave me a mark lower than I thought I deserved; pride at 'beating' some other competitor and bringing home a prize ... Was it a good system that encouraged young people in such feelings? In one sense it was worthwhile, in that it drove us forward, drove us to practice and practice and thus reach higher levels of accomplishment. But was it really necessary for there to have been winners and losers? In sports I suppose it is inevitable that there be a clear-cut winner, but in music? And in poetry?

I guess perhaps I'm being too serious about this. I suppose Tadami and Kanemori enjoyed the stimulus of the competitive environment, and I am sure it heightened the anticipation and enjoyment of the audience. But did Kanemori walk a little bit taller when his poem was judged the better ...? He certainly doesn't look it in this picture, does he!

August 1994

Translation - Tom Galt