Oscar in Japan: Mindfulness through craft. The Asian mental health podcast episode 23

In a very special travel documentary episode, Oscar explores the intersection of work, honing a craft and mental health in Japan. The team uncover discuss the way Japanese culture, crafts and "Zen" are romanticised and appropriated by the Western gaze.

Watch the episode below or find us on Spotify or Apple Podcasts!

The transcript is available below.

Help us destigmatise mental health conversations in Asian communities by downloading this episode on your favourite app and sharing it with your friends and family.

We’d love to hear your thoughts and ideas about Asian mental health. Find us online at ⁠@justshapesandsounds⁠ or ⁠justshapesandsounds.com⁠

English voiceovers provided by Kim Brockett, Vivan Vo, Junxin Peng and Yeo Choong.

This podcast is supported by the Victorian Department of Health via the Diverse Communities Program. All information provided is general information only and should not be used in lieu of professional advice.

💡Want to read Oscar's travel journal for all the behind the scenes info? Find it here!

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Transcript

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Shapes and Sounds acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the lands on which we’re recording and connecting with you from, the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung people of the Kulin Nation and we pay our respects to Elders past and present.

MX - AMH theme

Oscar: Hi Asami, hi Marcus. 

Asami/Marcus: Hello. 

Oscar: So recently I went to Japan and I've actually brought you back something. A documentary. 

Asami/Marcus: Haha

Oscar: No, yeah, I actually did make a documentary while I was in Japan and I'm going to be playing it for you in the studio today.

Asami: Okay, what made you want to make a documentary?

Oscar: A while ago, I went to an indigo dyeing workshop. This was a while back and I just found it so interesting. They were using the traditional method. 

Asami: Like in Japan?

Oscar: In Japan. Yeah, yeah, yeah. In Japan, they were using the traditional methods of creating indigo dyes and then dyeing clothes. And I just thought it's so interesting and I found a little bit of a passion in that in that process. I think it was just so something about it was so interesting

Asami: I love that blue colour, by the way, like I don't know if you can describe it, 

Oscar: It was like a rich.Bluey purple. It is so beautiful. It's like so distinct. Yeah. Um, but yeah, I think it kind of reminded me how, um, in my own hobbies and whatnot of making stuff. Um I think I realised that making stuff helps me de-stress. Um and I always wondered, you know, is there a connection between the traditional crafts like indigo dying and whatnot and, um mental health? And I think so, so I started wondering these things and I thought to myself while I'm going to Japan, why not investigate? 

So yeah, Yeo and I have been working really hard behind the scenes, shout out to Yeo. So I'm really excited to show it to you guys. And just as a quick warning, this episode contains discussions about sexual harassment. So if you're not feeling ready for this, come back at another time or skip to the next episode. Okay, here we go!

[Documentary Part 1]

MX IN - 2.23AM

Oscar here from Shapes and Sounds. I’m an engineering student who’s also interested in making things and anything creative. For me, crafts like sewing and making clothes are a reliable way for me to express myself. In terms of mental health, making stuff helps me decompress, and I feel a sense of satisfaction in moving concepts to reality.

But I wanted to dig deeper into the practices of craftspeople in Japan and find out whether there’s a link to mindfulness in their everyday lives. From the physicality of indigo dyeing to the patience and focus required in ornate wood joinery, I’m often wondering if making something of such high quality requires a meditative mindset.

So I decided that on my next trip to Japan, I’d reach out to a few artisans for a chat, to get a better sense of it all. I wanted to talk to them about their work, their lifestyle, and their mental health, and see how it’s all interconnected. You’re listening to the Asian Mental Health Podcast, and this is my mini-documentary on mindfulness through craft.

MX out

Family Mart SFX

Oscar: I’m picking up a snack at a convenience store, I’m in a small town in rural Ishikawa prefecture called Yamanaka Onsen. This place is famous for its onsen, it’s hot springs… which may have contributed a little bit to why I’ve chosen to come here.

If you’ve ever been to a Japanese restaurant and eaten food out of shiny red or black ornate bowls that are mysteriously lightweight, then you’ve eaten from crockery known as lacquerware. You may be surprised to know that lacquerware is actually made of sculpted wood. The sap of a rare tree called an urushi tree is laboriously harvested and applied many times to the wood, creating a luxurious and uniform finish.

It takes 10 years for the tree to mature, only to harvest just 200mL of sap, equivalent to a small latte.

SFX street atmos

Oscar: So I’m booked in for a lacquerware bowl carving lesson at 10:30, but I got lucky enough to convince the person who runs the lesson to do an interview with me. So I’ve arrived a bit early because you don’t wanna be late for anything in Japan.

The shop sits on the corner of the tangled back streets nearby the main attraction of the town… the onsen. The building’s facade is made from charred wood. It’s both a practical and stylistic decision. Charred wood is more water-resistant and the end result is dark, brooding and elegant.

Through the open window, I can see into a dense but well-organised workshop.

Oscar: To be honest I'm pretty nervous as it's my first solo interview aaaand it’s in Japanese. 😬

I step inside the front door and I’m greeted by Sato, a serious but calm-looking man with a long braided pony tail poking out of his red beret. He’s wearing a denim apron covered in sawdust. Since the window is open, the air feels fresh and you can hear traffic from the street. Using my rusty Japanese, I make sure it’s okay to start recording and ask him to introduce himself.

Sato: I’m Sato Yuuji, and I’m what’s known as a kijishi, which is essentially a woodturner–some one who shapes the wood before it gets finished with lacquer. I’m maybe the youngest of around 40 kijishi in the town. I’m originally from Osaka. While studying furniture design, I worked at a soba restaurant and became fascinated by the lacquerware they used to serve meals. I wanted to learn how to make lacquerware. That’s why I came to Yamanaka Onsen. This town is known for this craft. Here you’ll find the best skills, talent and the most jobs in the lacquerware trade. This town’s lacquerware-making tradition is almost 400 years old.

I ask Sato to see how bowls are made and he leads me into the workshop.

Oscar: There are so many bowls in this workshop. They’re all neatly stacked on the shelves but they reach the ceiling.

SFX moving to workshop

I watch Sato demonstrate the woodturning process. He starts with a cylindrical chunk of dry wood which he mounts on a lathe. A lathe is a machine that rapidly spins a mounted object on a horizontal axis, almost like a pottery wheel turned on its side. That’s my engineering skills right there. As the wood spins, he gradually shaves it into a desired shape using various instruments. He then smooths the surface with sandpaper.

SFX Sato demonstrates carving

I ask Sato what he thinks about when he’s carving bowls.

Sato: I guess I’m not thinking about anything in particular when I’m carving. Sometimes I have to make 100 to 200 identical pieces at a time, so I start to use muscle memory. There’s no use in concentrating too hard. 

Zen is an ancient form of Buddhism that emphasises the practice of meditation in order to awaken one's inner nature. That’s a pretty short but butchered explanation. I ask Sato if maybe his experience is something akin to zen.

Sato: It might be close to zen. Yes. It's probably close to being zen in that you do the same thing over and over again. My favourite part of the process is imagining a shape and trying to figure out how to achieve that shape before starting the trial and error process of physically carving the wood. I’m more of an intuitive worker. I figure out the process while carving rather than making heaps of drawings and writing everything down. It’s kind of like how there are musicians who play well but can’t read sheet music, and musicians that can only perform well with sheet music.

At this point, we’re interrupted by a cute toddler asking if this is an onsen. Sato apologises and tells him that there isn’t any onsen here, and we continue to talk about his journey.

Sato: I used to hate my work, but then I came to love it. For example, I made my carving tools from scratch. On reflection, maybe this process of learning is what kept me going. My parents were initially opposed to the pathway that I took, but now I’m on TV, in magazines and making money. They eventually came to understand my choices, and I don’t blame them, they don’t know much about this world.

He goes on to explain how he envisions himself in a world that his parents don’t know much about.

Sato: A craftsperson is someone who can make the same thing every day. Hundreds of the same thing, every day without hesitation. If anything, I'm not a serious craftsperson; I'm a person who runs a shop, conducts workshops, etc., and other various things, so it's a bit different to what’s considered a real craftsperson.

I realise that I had brought a sort of generalised understanding of craftspeople as sort of artists. But Sato suggests otherwise, insisting on the clear definition of the two, and emphasising the stoic nature of craft: making things for functional purposes - like for income and putting food on the table.

Sato: People say they feel like craftsmen are artists, but really craftsmen are craftsmen, and artists are artists. All things considered, I think I’m different from both artists and craftsmen. I mean if I really had to choose, I would be closer to an artist. In certain way, I am an expressionist. That’s how I feel.

Initially, I assumed that Sato would see himself as more of an artist, so it’s surprising that he actually thinks that he sits somewhere in between. I ask him about how his work impacts his life.

Sato: My work and my life are really close and hard to separate in a distinct way. There was an old folk artist called Kawai Kanjiro who once said “life is work, and work is life”, or something like that. It’s a quote that resonated with many people at the time. I like that quote, because for me, working is simply part of life. And I like my job.

There’s one thing Sato says that really sticks with me.

Sato: I want to spend as much time as I can interacting with the wood. In the process, my feelings come out and they influence how I shape the wood. I don’t think about it much, it just happens.

I kinda hope to get a taste of what Sato is talking about when he’s carving wooden bowls–not thinking too much and letting my feelings shape the wood. Conveniently for me, it’s time for my bowl carving lesson. 

SFX Oscar bowl carving

After I finish carving my bowl, I stamp my name on it. I give my thanks to Sato and say goodbye. This last little bit felt like it happened really quickly.

Oscar: Alright my first interview is done! And I got to make a bowl. Hell yeah.

My bowl isn’t perfect. Woodturning is fascinating and elusive. The harder I tried to shape the wood a certain way, the more it reacted unpredictably. I can see how you’d get addicted to it–improving your skills, working with your hands to shape a tangible object, and moving slowly towards achieving your vision. These are all things I like about making clothes too. 

SFX - river - Oscar walks to museum

Woodturning is only the first part of the process of making lacquerware. An application of lacquer is still needed to achieve that famously smooth, buttery finish. To find out more about this process, I went for a walk to the local museum.

Oscar: So there are two floors, upstairs and downstairs. Downstairs has plates, sake cups and chopsticks that were all made with newer techniques that I’ve never seen before, and upstairs where I am now has all the original traditional stuff. Oh, someone’s coming to talk to me…

It’s upstairs where a lady approaches me while carrying a baby on her back. She says hello and introduces herself as the head craftsman’s wife and co-owner of the museum. While rocking the baby, she shows me an enormous gleaming red plate, almost the size of a hula hoop. “This costs over $10 000”, she says. “Trees like this don’t exist anymore.”

The smell of paint thinner hangs in the air as she explains how urushi lacquer is naturally a brown colour. To make it red, they dye it with iron. If they want a black finish, they dye the lacquer with ash. She tells me about the legend of the bees–how their hardened hives inspired people to coat wood with urushi sap, making it waterproof and resilient.

She leads me to a room where two older women are cleaning a stack of brown lacquerware plates, each scrubbing one at a time. It’s here I meet the head craftsman, the other owner of the museum.

Headcraftsman: It takes 10 years to become an independent wood carver without your master,
and another 10 years to learn the underlaying, and then another 10 to become a lacquer painter.

A 10 year apprenticeship seems like a long time, but try 30 years to get the entire process down from start to finish. It sounds like hard work, but perhaps it requires something more like patience instead.

The people at the museum tell me about their own experiences. Here’s the wife of the head craftsman and co-owner…

Co-owner: If your podcast is about office workers that don’t want to go to work because they’re stressed, you won't find those people here.

One of the old ladies who is scrubbing plates shares her thoughts.

Worker: I get to work at my own pace most of the time. If sometimes we have to push beyond our own abilities, someone might take a day off. So it’s actually a pretty good place to work.

While I do think everyone was being sincere, it is interesting to note that we were all having this conversation in the same room–the employees and the owners of the business. If anyone was being careful with their words, I’ll never know for sure.

MX in - ローファイ少女は今日も寝不足

Upon leaving the museum, I witnessed a plot twist. Making lacquerware felt like more of a job than an art, and everyone seemed accepting of that. There’s a difference in the extent in which we all pursue things–me occasionally making clothes in my spare time, and Sato carving 200 bowls to fulfill an order. The thing Sato, the lacquer-ladies and I do share is that we all love the process of the craft, and we all believe it’s good for us. And this brings me comfort.

Feeling grateful to everyone at Yamanaka Onsen, it was time to get on another train and head to my next destination.

MX out

[End of Part 1]

Marcus: I didn't even know what to say. That was so good.

Asami:: Oh, that was so good, Oscar. Wow.

Marcus: Wow. and Yeo.

Asami: Yeah, thank you to Yeo

Oscar: Yeah, this is actually my first time listening to the finished doc. 

Asami: Okay, what did you think? 

Oscar: Well, I mean, I'm so excited. It came together so well. And I've been so excited to see how it came together as well. I don't know. I'm just really happy. 

Asami:: Yeah, and your Japanese is so good as well. It's really good. It is. So why did you ask about the Zen?

Oscar: Yeah, that's a good question. I feel like there is this conversation about crafts and Zen being intertwined. And while I'm a little bit sceptical, I had to ask anyways, you know, I think that it's better to know, you now, from a craft person themselves, do they see a connection here or are they very unrelated things? And I think it was more about sort of this, he talked a lot about the repetition of work and doing the same thing over and over again. And I that I could attribute a bit more closer to stoicism. Even he himself mentioned, like, oh, I guess this is sort of a stoic job, and that was really interesting to me.

Asami: Yeah. I think that's what the West thinks is so beautiful about Japan. Do you know what I mean? Like it is like oh like the Japanese craftsmen and like they're 90 years old and like seven generations of lacquerware doing the same thing but yet feeling so peaceful in the heart and soul.

Oscar: Yeah, yeah.

Asami: And I guess that's like a stoic thing, right? I don't know. I don' know where I'm going with that. But that's my comment. It's like, it's so beautiful or it's like so glamourous. Like, I think it's beautiful, too. But in that interview, you can hear that he's just like, Yeah

Marcus: I'm just working.

Oscar: Definitely. I think there is... In the media portrayal, the Western portrayal of Japanese crafts, I think that there is a sort of heightened sense of, I don't know what it is about it, but like, elegance or something in that.

Marcus: And he was kind of saying, like, he kind of grew to love the job whilst doing it, right?

Asami: Yeah, it makes me think like we've been talking a bit about passion and skill, like in terms of work or passion and purpose and skill. But I've heard lots of people starting to talk more about how like, um, if you choose a job for passion, then passion is like an emotion so it can wane. And then if you lose that passion, you're like, Oh no, right. But if you do something and you keep doing it and you start getting better and better at doing something, then you build that skill and then you build your confidence. And then you grow to love that thing and then it becomes your passion so it's like you don't have to chase your passion all the time you can just do what you're good at and just keep doing it until you're better and better maybe like 30 years.

Oscar: That reminds me, Sato in our further conversation with him also talked about how he had preconceived notions as well about what craft, especially wood carving, would entail when he first ended or into his apprenticeship or however you want to call it, and how they were completely wrong. He didn't realise that the people in that area were very much about volume, size and perfection, you know, making the same thing hundreds of times just right rather than some places are much more free and loose in their standards as well. I think it varies across Japan. And I think when he was there at the start, he didn't quite like that. When he mentioned that to me, he was a little bit jarred by that. But as he got better and better, what he found the passion in was actually working in those confines of, you know, perfection and I guess, batch size and I guess form, um, and then working within that to get better. I think he found a passion in improving in a smaller sense over, over a long period of time, and that was really interesting to me as well.

Asami: Yeah. If someone was like, okay, paint a picture, then it's so hard to begin. But if you're like, Ok, you only have three colours and you've only got like, you've got to make it a triangle and then you have to do this, then it's much easier to actually create something. Right. Yeah. The bit where you made the bowl, that was really fast. But can you tell me more?

Oscar: The process was, as we said, there's like that wooden cylinder that you kind of get at the start, spinning around on a laith and then you've got a tool in your hand that kind of looks like a big screwdriver.

Asami: Okay.

Oscar: And essentially you've got a wooden stand below you. On the wooden stand, you lie this big screwdriver-like tool and you poke the tip into the wood that is spinning around. So I'm carving away with the tip of this metal screwdriver, the wood, into the shape that I want. It's a lot of fine motor skills, and then at the very end, you're just finishing it with sandpaper to make it smooth and then cutting off the end as well. 

Asami: And then they're like, okay, bye. Bye. See ya. 

Marcus: You did your thing. 

Oscar: And then you kind stamp you name and you’re done. We didn't get to carve out the inside. just because for time's sake, as well as it's really hard. Yeah, okay. The wall thickness can tape in and things like that. But yeah, that's a whole other process, but I got to do the outside, which I was like, okay, that's great, I really wanted to do that.

Marcus: You know how he was talking about like, when he's doing it, like he doesn't really think about anything, but then sometimes the emotions just come up and he's kind of allowing the emotion to shape what he's doing. Did you have that? Like, what did you think about when you were doing it?

Oscar: Alright, so I've got miso soup bowl at home and we were making, in my head, a miso soup bowl. I mean, you could make whatever, but I was kind of going for a miso soup bowl shape. So at the start, I was trying to go off of the ones that I know. Um, yeah, I think there was a moment where I was like, you're really focused on this small area on the wood that you were chipping away at. I think I kind of just lost the image that I had previously and kind of just started going by feeling and it kind of happened from feeling in the hands and I've never really had that happen before. And that was, that was the part that I was like, oh yeah, I get it. This is, this is so fun. There's stuff that you don't even really think about and it comes through.

Marcus: Okay. Okay. Last question. Do you think that sort of self expression has anything to do with like making you feel better?

Oscar: Yeah um actually that's really funny that you asked that because my next interview actually addresses that question really well. So let's get back into the doco. How convenient.

Marcus: How convenient 

[Documentary Part 2]

MX - 湖面のワルツ

I’m in Osaka, Japan’s third largest city. I find myself in a small calligraphy studio that’s only been set up recently. The white walls are mostly bare except for a few large eye-catching pieces made by calligraphy students. We’re sitting in the centre of the room facing a small foldout table.

<B-roll SFX of Fukumitsu interview>

I’ve known Fukumitsusan for a long time. Her family are calligraphers, and I distinctly remember the smell of calligraphy ink whenever I see one of them. As I sit down with Fukumitsusan, she gives me a heartwarming smile. It hits me that I haven’t had a proper conversation with her in over 6 years.

Fukumitsu: I have 3 names. The first one is my real name, Yu Ueno. Ueno is a private name, so I don't use it at work. My name at work is Yu Fukumitsu. The other name is my calligrapher name, and that is Fukutouen. This is the name my teacher gave me. 

I’m at three different universities, and that takes up half the week. I teach practical calligraphy techniques and theory. I teach the history of calligraphy, and in that class we read calligraphy texts in old Chinese. In order to become a calligraphy teacher, you need a license, so I also teach the mandatory classes needed to get that license. 

I worked all three of these jobs until last year, when I quit one and opened this studio. 

Fukumitsu teaches calligraphy to all kinds of people, young and old. With all this in mind, I’m very curious about how Fukumitsu-san got into calligraphy.

Fukumitsu: I wasn't interested in calligraphy at first. My parents were calligraphers and deeply involved in that practice, and there was this idea in both China and Japan that if you had beautiful handwriting, you’d be seen as a little bit smarter. So I forced myself to practice my handwriting. I didn’t like it at all. Instead, I've always loved martial arts. That’s all I wanted to do in college.

But I realised that I wasn’t that good at sports like other people were. I realised I couldn’t become a top professional. I was wondering what skills I actually had.  

So I decided to study. I wanted to study martial arts theory. I entered graduate school for Chinese and Western philosophy. 

I then earned a scholarship from the Chinese Government and went to China.

Since I love martial arts, I did martial arts every day and studied Chinese. I actually forgot about my doctorate degree a little, because I was busy eating great Chinese food every day. It was delicious, and it was so much fun. Then I got an email that said “Fukumitsu, what have you been planning to do with your dissertation?”`

And I thought what should I do? I was there to complete my doctorate. When I tried to write a thesis on martial arts, I was told I couldn’t do it. So I was kinda stuck and really wondering what my options were…

At this point, Fukumitsu scuttles off and returns with a cute statuette of an old man practicing martial arts. From the form of the old man, I immediately recognised the martial art as tai chi.

Fukumitsu: Yes! I mean, this is a little extreme. I like tai chi. And I discovered when I do tai chi, even though I’m moving, sometimes I feel so good I forget that I’m doing anything at all... Is that something like a trance? 

This is something I've never experienced before, and it's amazing. It came from Asian culture, and I thought it was really good for me, mentally. 

I was curious about this experience and I didn't understand it even after reading various Western or Chinese philosophies. No one wrote about it so I thought it was undocumented. But then I found a historical figure who practiced both calligraphy and tai chi. Someone exiled from China.

Su Shi, also known as Dongpo, was an accomplished Chinese scholar who lived during the Song era, which was around a thousand years ago. He was an expert calligrapher amongst many other things, and his work had a heavy influence on Fukumitsu’s direction in life.

Though he was sick and dying, he did Tai chi and wrote characters every day. His mind calmed down, and… also, do you know zazen meditation? When he sat down and meditated, something really improved his mind. His handwriting got better, and his calligraphy work became wonderful. I found a text where he wrote about all of this.

Then it hit me. I thought, “oh, I could write my paper about this.” This guy knew the reason he felt so good is because tai chi improves your mental state. He wrote about it in various forms of text. That's why my doctoral dissertation is about his life, his creative pursuits, and his experience of Buddhism. 

I feel validated hearing this story. It sounds like an important link between traditional practices and mental wellness.

Here was Fukumitsu, a top level academic in a traditional practice, telling me about these very old documented experiences of tai chi and calligraphy soothing a troubled mind. 

She goes on to talk about the depth and expressiveness of calligraphy.

Fukumitsu: Calligraphy doesn't have to be clear. There is passion and beauty in the message. For example, even if you don’t understand kanji or hiragana, you can look at calligraphy work and immediately understand, “Ah. This image is war.”

MX in - 滅びた大地に祈りを

Do you know Guernica by Pablo Picasso? If a small child sees it, how do they interpret the picture? They might say, "it's only white and black, it's gray, and a bit dark. There are people who have slightly strange faces, so it feels strange.” If you ask this child if the painting is happy or sad, they’ll say it feels a bit sad. And it feels a bit scary.

I see Fukumitsu’s point. Calligraphy is more than just handwriting. It can convey stories, moods and opinions, sometimes complex, sometimes very simple. 

Fukumitsu: In order to create a work, you need some kind of message or theme. In a way, no message can still be a message.

So, it’s about expressing something about your thoughts. For example, I think about my own personal experience with sexual harassment. With that incident in my mind, I created my work in anger. However, the events of the incident are not explicitly written in the work. 

The audience sees the work but they don’t think, "this is sexual harassment". 

The finished work has an aura that is very strong. The feelings I had about the sexual harassment have been turned into an image, and those feelings have already gone to heaven. They’re no longer around. However, the feeling’s strength has remained in the work, and only that strength is conveyed to the audience. 

That's why my mind is so peaceful and my work is powerful. And people who see the work feel encouraged and it really moves them.

MX out

Fukumitsu: This is a paperweight. And this is the paper. This is Japanese paper that has been created by craftsmen. This is old paper, so it sounds good. It's probably a bit light. The new paper still has a lot of water, so it doesn't sound like this. It's better if it's dry. 

Fukumitsu shows me how to prepare the ink in the traditional way.

This is an inkstone. It is made from stone. I bought it in China.

An inkstone is essentially a small dish with a hard flat surface. 

This is an ink stick. And water. 

In Fukumitsu’s hand is a black, rectangular stone that looks a bit like a miniature version of the monolith from Space Odyssey. 

This ink stick is made by mixing the coal from burning pine trees and gelatin from animals to make it hard. The animal smell is a bit stinky, so I put perfume in it.

So, I'm grinding it like this over and over again.

If we’re only making this much, it’ll take about 1-2 minutes. Oh, this is ready. 

I ask her how she knows the ink is ready. Is it by the colour?

Fukumitsu: Oh no I can't tell by colour. When you start grinding the inkstone, the liquid is runny. But it gradually becomes like takoyaki sauce. Look, this is a bit like sauce. 

Takoyaki sauce! Takoyaki is a Japanese street food where they fry little chunks of octopus in batter, forming round balls which are then slathered with a tangy sauce. The consistency of this sauce is kind of like a light gravy–only slightly thicker than water.

Fukumitsu: Calligraphy requires two things. One is form and the other is meaning. For example, the meaning of a “light” love is probably like, “love you!” <in a whimsical tone>

So it’s almost like, “I don't really love you,” or something. But if you’re talking about form, it would be like this. 

The word Fukumitsu writes is Ai, the Kanji character for the word love. 

This feels like love, but something light. 

She prepares a fresh piece of paper and writes it again.

Now there are two very different iterations of Ai, side by side. 

The one on the left consists of thin delicate lines, while the one on the right is made of thick, aggressive strokes, which kind of blend together.

Fukumitsu: And then this is heavy love. This is heavy in terms of the shape, and the rhythm of the brush. 

And you can see here on the heavy love, this splatter is sort of like blood… murder. Heavy, a bit like stalking…haha

Fukumitsu then asks me if I’d like to have a go at writing the same character, Ai.

Oscar SFX

I joke about how my written form of Ai would be read as ‘badly written love’ but Fukumitsu suggests aiming for ‘awkward love’. She assures me that holding a brush is just like holding a pen. 

Her gentle guidance helps me feel less stressed. 

She shows me the brushstroke sequence for the character because I don’t remember it at all. 

I hold my breath and plunge the brush into the ink. After carefully wiping off the excess, I make my first attempt.

Oscar SFX 

MX in - Cream Puff Dreams

After marking the paper with ink and creating my own unique version of the word love, my first instinct is to hate it. The end product is slightly off-centre, unbalanced and a little flimsy, but if the aim was to portray an "awkward love", I think I delivered in spades. Something about embracing the messy process of it all really just made it fun.

MX out

As my trip was drawing to a close, I paid a visit to my aging grandmother. Just like me, she loves sewing. She showed me a piece of clothing she was working on. She was repurposing a kimono worn by her older sister. The kimono material was a resplendent beige silk with purple flower patterns. A real classy design. 

The original kimono was handmade by her mother for her sister’s graduation. However, this was no ordinary kimono. 

It was made from silk harvested by my grandmother’s family of farmers, extracted from silkworms that they raised themselves. I could tell my grandmother felt a great sense of pleasure, pride and connectedness while working with the kimono. She was creating a new jacket from material imbued with so much of her past.

MX in - 静謐を宿す庭

For me, seeing my grandma work on this garment was a full circle moment. All of these crafts in some form have existed for generations, centuries even. These are the types of crafts that I’ve been interested in for as long as I can remember. After hearing from Fukumitsu about mind-calming techniques that are a thousand years old, and talking to Sato and the lacquer-ladies about their devotion to a 400 year-old tradition, I’m convinced there’s merit and value in continuing these practices today.

These artisanal crafts have already endured ruthless tests of time. Yet their biggest challenges may still lie ahead. In the modern age of AI, robotics, touchscreens and ultrafast wireless networks, the wider world might forget about the mental health benefits of these practices. But perhaps, through our own exploration of craft, we can all discover new ways to help our mental wellbeing.

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[Documentary End]

Asami: I don't know why, but this second one makes me feel sad. The first one was like really, like made me feel really happy. And then the second one was really sad.

Oscar: I did end on a bit of a sad note about the AI,

Asami: AI is coming 

Oscar:  but it's true. It's true, like I was talking to Fukumitsu right at the end of that conversation and she talked about the brushes she uses. The brushes are made of horsehair and the brushes are used for calligraphy to draw, I guess. Um, the person she gets her brushes from does it in the traditional way and is now I think around her late eighties. Oh, wow. Um, and. Is doesn't have a predecessor. Oh, predecessor, what's the word? 

Asami: Like a successor, 

Oscar: yes, doesn't has a successor. So there's no one else. Yeah, there's not one else and she's getting old so she can't just make as many per year. So it's like, and there's nobody who does it to the, with the right materials or to the same standards as she does. So she was talking about how even these sub-sects of the crafts for calligraphy might be the people who make the inkstones, the people that make the brushes and whatnot are slowly dying out as well. So it is real, like a lot of these crafts are slowly disappearing.

Asami: There was an element of that, like something is dying. And then how like the creation of art, it's very different to like a trauma dumping experience of like, you know, posting on TikTok about something awful that happen to you, but it's like. She's offering a piece of art to the rest of the world that can then, like people can then empathise and understand what she went through. But that trauma doesn't get like thrown into people's bodies as well. So I was thinking about that. So then like the art therapy, music therapy kind of combos.

Marcus: Hmm

Asami: That's my rabbit hole, what about you Marcus?

Marcus: I think a lot of what she spoke about in the early sections of that clip was sort of how the traditions or like those traditional philosophies have sort of influenced that relationship with work. And even just like when they were saying like how doing the crafts and like doing those traditions, it was like, it helped his mind calm down. It wasn't like, I feel good about myself kind of thing. Like just the idea of how we conceptualise wellness and like well-being is so different. I don't know. I just thought that was really interesting. Like peace of mind is like, I guess, sort of what you're trying to achieve, not like happiness. Yeah

Asami: Yeah, everything is so focused towards like happiness, happiness, happiness, but it's so different in the East.

Marcus: Hmm

Asami: Like calm, peace of mind. What did you take away from it, Oscar? Especially now, like hearing it all with us.

Oscar: I know I talk about all the time when I'm talking about creative stuff, but perfectionism is like my main problem I have with my own, I don't know, creativity. And I think it really stuck out to me that you can reframe the purpose of what you are doing. So in that one, I obviously have no calligraphy experience. My handwriting is absolute trash. And so framing the process to be, oh, let's draw an awkward love, like the specific purpose of me writing this character is to express this sort of awkwardness. It takes, I think it just takes off the edge of what you're doing. It's not so serious anymore. 

Asami: It's not about the product.

Oscar: It’s not about the product, It just really is just transferring your emotion and your, I don't know, I was feeling uncertain in the moment. I was feeling awkward because I'm recording a conversation with someone who I'd never, you know, known so long and never recorded with because that's a really weird thing to do with your friends. Yeah, I think it just like reframing it in that sense, really allows me to I guess lose myself in the same way that I lost myself in the process with Sato as we spoke about earlier. And I think that I don't know somehow I'd like to be able to integrate that into my own work or it's sort of just taking off this preconceived notions of what I should be making you know or what I want to be making and just enjoying the process more. And just as a side note like we had to cut so much out of the doco we also had this really interesting conversation about emptiness and Taoism. Um, with Fukumitsu san that I would love to also talk about or like listen to. Um, but I think that we'll release that uncut version as a bonus episode. So if you're curious to hear more, I'd just be on the lookout for that. But yea!

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Marcus: Well, thank you so much, Oscar, for sharing the documentary with us. But just before we go, as usual, we've got our three fun questions that we like to ask at the end of each episode. And as always, we like to personalise our last question. So we'll throw you the first question. What do you think about people who are too close to their colleagues?

Oscar: Hmm, what do I think? I think, I think yeah, I think that you can be too close to colleagues for sure. Um, and I think it's important to like maintain a sort of personal life and a work life balance. And if your work life is too mixed in with your personal life, I think it can be hard to process stuff in your own time. And I think I've mentioned previously that sense of the work self and the personal self. I personally like that clear cut-ness. And to maintain that, I think you also need some distance from your colleagues as well.

Asami: Then you have to answer the question, what do you think about those people? Oh, what I think about them? Oh,

Marcus: Or you don't have to answer that. 

Asami: When was the last time you actually took a mental health day?

Oscar: It depends on what you classify as a mental health day. Sometimes I would just like not go to a class or whatnot and stay home if I'm just feeling like it's, I really just can't be bothered. Yeah, if that counts, then maybe like last semester. Just because we've only just started, so. Yeah, yeah.

Asami: Three months ago? Six months ago, 

Marcus: That's pretty good.

Marcus: Um, okay. And last, last question, your, your personalised question. Do you think your work ethic is more Australian or more Japanese? 

Oscar: That's a hard question. 

Marcus: And I'm guessing there are really strong connotations we're trying to throw to each of them.

Asami: Yea yea its all loaded. 

Oscar: Yeah, the subtext. It's interesting. I think I definitely work hard and I'm very serious about my work compared to other people. I think it's like clear to me in other jobs. Like, you know, some people take it pretty like light. For some reason, I take it too seriously in a Japanese sense. I think maybe I lean that ways. But equally, when I was in Japan, like, oh, I could not do a nine to five plus 40 hours of overtime per week. Yeah It's actually ridiculous, like there is so much overtime done by the average office worker in Japan and I was like, I could never do that. So as my own identity, I think I sit between Australian and Japanese and I think my approach similarly to work is probably about the middle there.

Asami: Well, what a great answer, Oscar. 

Oscar: Thank you. 

Asami: Tick. All right. Well, thank you so much, Oscar, Yeo, and of course, Marcus, for being here too. That's really weird haha.

Marcus: You don't have to thank me.

Asami: Thanks anyway. 

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Asami: Yeah, thanks! And thank you all for joining us. We're going to share photos and a blog about Oscar's trip too, so you'll visually be able to see what his experience was like. So you can find us on Instagram and LinkedIn and YouTube at Just Shapes and Sounds. Please make sure you like and subscribe to us on your favourite podcast app so that you can hear that bonus episode dropping as well. Download this episode for offline listening, and then go and share this episode with your friends because word of mouth really helps to destigmatize mental health in Asian communities. So everyone, stay safe.

Marcus: Stay silly 

Oscar: and see you soon. 

This is a production from Shapes and Sounds. It’s hosted by Asami Koike, Marcus Lai and Oscar Abe, and produced by Yeo Choong. We’re proudly supported by the Victorian Department of Health’s Diverse Communities Program. All thoughts and ideas you hear are independently ours and our guests’.

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[END]