Oink Oink

In Japan pigs go ‘bu bu’. Whatever language they speak, they’re still delicious.

Pig! Pig! Pig!

One of my favourite Japanese meals is tonkatsu (deep-fried breaded pork cutlet). Bite through the crisp coating into succulent, tender pork. Eat with a big bowl of rice, umami-a-go-go red miso soup, a generous mound of sliced sengiri cabbage, karashi (Japanese mustard) and tonkatsu sauce. Wash down with an ice-cold Asahi. It’s a dish of champions.

When I lived in Tokyo, my local tonkatsu joint took great pride in the quality of its meat. The meat was specially sourced, from free-range, organic farms. Hell, they even made sure Mr. Porky’s delicate skin didn’t burn in the sun. It makes me happy to know my dinner was cared for. So this postcard is for innumerable you, piggy-wiggies, who have rocked my taste buds.

Pyon Pyon

Compared to other ethnicities, a rather high proportion of Japanese women remind me of rabbits. I’m talking faces - and teeth - here, not costume or bedroom habits. かわいいな〜。

Bunny Love

I thought I’d delve into the crowded seas of punk-cute with this postcard. Some feedback I received on this design was, “His ears look like a stamen.” I’ll take that as an additional level of symbolism and leave.

Monkey business

Only two cards in and you may have noticed a theme. I only have three types of paint at the moment: burnt umber, cadmium red and titanium white. Mix them, you say. Damn you all to hell, I cry back.

Saru

Monkeys are what we’d be if we truly didn’t give a fuck about anything. The scamps.

This little simian baboushka rolled from the pages of an fascinating pocket book on Meiji to early Showa era Japanese ad images. Western influences were beginning to break through, and artists took to fusing the styles - an often fruitful process continued to this day. Far from being insular, the Japanese can be remarkably open to new ideas, devouring them with rabid hunger and producing things new and exciting.

Dick & Me

I love postcards. It’s a small pleasure to write or receive them from far flung places around the world. Beyond that, they’re a wonderful little artistic medium. And they make swell bookmarks.

So without further ado, I’ll introduce the first card I knocked up now that my tools and materials have finally arrived from Japan.

The Bruna

Inspired by the iconic book cover designs of Dick Bruna, creator of cuniculine sensation Miffy, comes this card of intrigue and espionage. Some might have say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but then they don’t have a gun that can shoot logograms. Bang! Bang!

In the witching hour

I picked up the first volume of xxxHOLiC by the manga collective Clamp. The series begins with a high-school student, Watanuki Kimihiro, who is plagued by spirits, and the witch who offers to help him for a price.

Clamp started out as a dōjinshi (self-published manga or novels) circle. While dōjinshi are often fan-fictions, filled with lurid sexual fantasies, or parodies of existing series, the genre has proved a fertile training ground for aspiring mangaka.

Of course, I knew nothing of that when i bought the manga. I was drawn by the deep purple page trim and opium fiend ambience of the cover. Furthermore, though I can do without androgynous young guys, Japanese artists do a nice line in Wanda von Dunajew-esque ladies.

. . .

歩くの大好き

Of all Miyazaki Hayao’s films, this is the one for me. Neither flash nor overly complex, it explores the emotions and imaginative world of childhood. And the Totoros are just ace.

Rather embarrassingly, for the longest time I thought the film was Chinese. A a kid I watched a Cantonese dub of the film and, knowing no better, made the assumption that the filmmakers were also Chinese. None of my relations thought it necessary to point out my mistake. Most likely they figured I couldn’t be that culturally blind.

Fast forward to the present. It is painfully obvious how utterly Japanese the whole thing is. Not that anyone actually lives like that anymore. Nor did they ever, probably. Golden sunned nostalgia allows one to indulge.

But one can still find traces, like the giant camphor tree that is home to the Totoros. Some of my favourite experiences in Japan involved reaching the top of the steps leading to a quiet Shinto shrine and taking in the immense trees, tied with rope and paper. The scent of the trees is magical.

Like other great early Miyazaki films, such as Nausicaa and Laputa, the story structure is taut and razor sharp. I prefer this period to more recent work, which feels baroque, both visually and in narrative. Totoro has simplicity and depth, like all the best folk and fairy tales.

. . .

Scribble scribble

Being of a certain age, I do much of my writing on a computer. A two and a half year old 15“ Mac Powerbook, since you ask.

A few months ago while slogging through a redraft, I snapped. Traditional word processors (Word and NeoOffice) were driving me nuts. For longer pieces they were too cumbersome.

That’s when I found Scrivener.

Designed by a similarly frustrated writer, it is a quantum leap forward from traditional word processors. Think of the difference between accessing information via a scroll and bound book for some idea of the advantages.

Scrivener allows for non-linear writing and editing. Subdivide projects into chapters, pages, even paragraphs should that be your thing, and jump straight to the relevant section. Each section can then be moved around and saved independently.

Further features that writers will appreciate include index cards (complete with digital cork board), automatic outlines, full screen green on black editing, dual windows for working from research (notes, pictures, web sites, videos or music)… the list goes on. It really is a well-crafted piece of software, essential for Mac owning writers working on longer projects.

. . .

Water world

I finally picked up a copy of Pink Box, Joan Sinclair’s photojournal of the Japanese sex industry. It is an exceptional achievement. It offers a glimpse into a side of the mizu shōbai (水商売, lit. water trade, the entertainment business) rarely seen by outsiders.

Sinclair shows us a world where all manner of fantasies are fulfilled: shaking train carriages with schoolgirls to grope, foot fetish bars, real doll clubs and yes, used panty sales. It is, in her words, full of ‘colour, kitsch, variety, and absurdity’. But first and foremost it is a staggering money spinner. Sex services in Japan are worth ¥2.37 trillion (Takashi Kadokura, 2001).

Sinclair’s photographs capture all these elements. The colour palette of the photographs (extended to the wonderfully designed book) is a vital component of her vision. Neon bright, rich and vibrant to the point of clashing - colours of play.

It limits any exploration of the seamier side of the industry, creating an amusement park atmosphere. However, Sinclair is not after that type of exposé. As opposed to say Tomatsu Shomei’s photographs of Tokyo’s Shinjuku district (in which the famous Kabukichō is located), Sinclair is focused on the light, not darkness.

The best shots give a real sense of character, ambiguity and drama; or they place the viewer in the role of customer and voyeur.

Unfortunately a number appear shallow and superficial. They lack narrative depth, the kind instinctive to photographers like Weegee. They show what is there and little else. Some seem artificially posed, only occasionally with an amateur model’s charm.

In a sense, this is appropriate. Everyone in the mizu shōbai is performing a set role: flirtatious high-schooler; suave host; sweet elevator attendant; salaryman out drinking, with his tie round his head. They’re skilled at hiding their inner selves from prying eyes. After all, they’re paid to be dolls, playthings and the stuff of dreams.

. . .

Pink Box by Joan Sinclair

. . .

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (Part I)

Riced cooly beatnik.

I love ramen. I spent many mealtimes at the counter of my local ramen joints while I was living in Tokyo, enjoying their various specialities.

One place down the road from my apartment did a mean plate of fried rice. When I first arrived, I was able to shovel it down with a bowl of tonkotsu (pork broth) ramen and a plate of gyōza (dumplings). After my appetite had adjusted to Japanese portions, just the fried rice was enough.

This is a recipe I derived from watching the chef at work. It is quick and easy. After all, ramen shops are in the fast food business. It is also an excellent way to make use of leftover rice.

Details:

1 bowl of cooked rice or 1 cup (180ml Japanese size; 250ml Western) of uncooked rice serves 1 person.

Preparation: 5 minutes. If you need to prepare the rice add about another 30 minutes.
Cooking: 5 minutes.

Ingredients:

(Per person)

• Rice: I recommend Japanese rice (a.k.a. sushi rice). The short, fat grains retain moisture, meaning that the rice does not dry out when fried.
• 20g x diced fatty pork belly: alternatively use chā shū (Chinese roast pork) if you have it to hand or cut up some bacon.
• 5 x large Chinese lettuce leaves
• 1 x spring onion
• 1 x egg
• Salt & pepper: large salt crystals or flakes add some nice texture, but need to be thoroughly stirred into the rice.
• 30ml of water

Instructions:

1. Cook the rice. If you use a pot, may I recommend purchasing a rice cooker? They’re the bee’s knees.
2. Cut up the lettuce and spring onions. Beat the egg, like it deserves.
3. Heat a wok or frying pan on high. Thrown in the pork.
4. Once the pork is cooked, add the lettuce. Stir, or toss in the wok if you’re feel like some fun. When the lettuce has wilted a little, add the rice. Stir well so the rice is coated in delicious the pork juice. Pour the water over the rice.
5. Keep agitating the rice, pork and lettuce for a few minutes. Unless you like crisp rice, don’t cook it for too long.
6. Make a well in the centre of the wok. Pour the egg inside. Once it has cooked a little and begun to take shape, mix well with the rice.
7. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
8. Garnish each serving with a sprinkling of spring onions.

Closing Comments:

Serving the rice with some chilli sauce can add a nice kick to the meal. My relish of choice is sambal oelek, a salty and slightly tart Indonesian concoction.

I prefer to keep things simple with a minimal number of ingredients. You should throw in any vegetables or meat you like as alternatives or additions. Just make sure to cut everything up into small pieces.

I noticed that fried rice from Japanese ramen shops often has quite a peppery flavour. It is usually served with a bowl of wakame (seaweed) soup, but I don’t know how to make that yet. Anyone throw me a line?

Itadakimasu!

. . .

Iced Cooly Beatnik

A pitch black heaven

But the coloured lights fooled you. The lights were wonderful. There ought to be a monument to the man who invented neon lights. Fifteen stories high, solid marble. There’s a boy who really made something out of nothing.

- Philip Marlowe, The Little Sister (1949) by Raymond Chandler.

Summer 2007. Aomori, Japan. I stand on the plains of northern Honshū. The lights are out, the houses and farms all asleep.

Underfoot, the slow crunch of stones on the sun-baked path, tingles my ears and slippered feet. We wander into a small orchard. The leaves on the apple trees rustle against our skin. I hold her closer. City boy, city boy, where have you gone?

The Big Dipper is clear and sharply illuminated. From where I stand, it empties itself over the heavens, spilling out the other stars.

Nothing like Tokyo, where you can’t see past the neon, where the tall buildings, sunk deep into the earth crowd you out of yourself. Here, there is deep, rich darkness.

Behind me stands Mt. Iwaki. In the light of the moon, I can faintly make out its shape. Even though it is neither a particularly large nor steep, it dominates the plain, reminding you of the natural scale and order of things. And all is quiet.

Donald Richie - one of the best writers on Japan - argues that the Japanese made an art out of nothingness. Under the influences of Zen Buddhism, privation (both imposed and as an acquired taste) and strict codes of conduct, the Japanese harnessed it as a productive core to their cultural endeavours. This can be seen in pursuits such as the tea ceremony.

Modern Japan, indeed the modern world often forgets about this nothingness. It should be treasured.

. . .

The Glassy Essence