There is something about ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arrangement, that beckons to me. I find that the contemplation of a single flower, placed just so against a branch, evokes pure nature with startling clarity.
Ikebana began 1,500 years ago when Buddhist priests flanked temple statues of the Buddha with arrangements of flowers and branches. Symbolic, stylized, and in proportion to the statue, these arrangements, called rikka (or “standing-up plant cuttings”), might be more than 15 feet tall. Over the years, rikka evolved, becoming ever more stylized with strict rules to govern the plant material, type of container, and the placement of the odd number (usually seven or nine) of branches. During the sixteenth century, nobles made smaller, more elaborate arrangements to decorate the Japanese imperial court. Picture scrolls from this period show samurai sitting in contemplation and appreciation of these rikka arrangements.
In the beginning, ikebana was practiced only by men. Not until about 1860 were women allowed to learn its rules. Today, many different styles of ikebana are practiced, and the art form is still evolving. While it is still steeped in tradition, practitioners exercise much freedom from its restrictive beginnings. Ikebana is alive and in flux in modern Japan.
Traditional ikebana arrangements are both symbolic and naturalistic, embracing the three principles of the art form: kioku, the consideration of growth; shitsu, the feeling for composition, and ji, evocation of the season. The use of flowers is secondary and may be symbolic, and they are often portrayed in each of the three stages of growth: in bud, just opening, and fully open to represent the future, present, and past, respectively. The main focus, however, is on the line, rhythm, and balance of the arrangement’s main stems.
Herbs lend themselves gracefully to ikebana. Although their flowers may be small, many herbs have strong branches with delightfully textured foliage. The rapid growth habits of some herbs create artistically gnarled stems, often in less than a single growing season. Unexpected and delicious scents often waft from herbal arrangements. I’ve also found that herbs tend to last longer in the vase than traditional cut flowers. Sometimes my ikebana herbs sprout roots, allowing me to take them from vase back to garden, where they can continue to grow and be enjoyed.
Herbal ikebana is about form, rhythm, and a sense of season. Most Americans are so far from “the good earth” and an appreciation of natural, local seasons that we suffer no sense of discontinuity when grocery stores are packed with watermelons in April. One of the goals of herbal ikebana is to center us in the now, in the present time, and in the season.
Go outside and look at what is flourishing in your garden at this very moment. Take the time to see the herbs that are so useful in the kitchen and medicine cabinet as objects of balance and artistry. Gather them serenely, and let their spare beauty bring calmness and focus to your life.
Rules of ikebana
Ikebana arrangements contain three main branches. The longest branch stands for heaven or spiritual truth; the middle, for man, or the harmonizer; and the shortest, for earth or material substance. The Japanese names for the branches vary from school to school, but here I’ll call them shin, soe, and hikae. Supporting accents, called jushi, are used in uneven numbers to emphasize the three primary lines.
The length of the shin should be one to two times the combined length and depth of the container. The soe is three-quarters the length of the shin, and the hikae, three-quarters that of the soe. The jushi are never longer than the branch that they echo. To signify spring, cut the branches a little shorter than the length given above; for summer, cut them a bit longer.
Imagine a centerline extending upward from the container. The tip of the shin should lie about 10 degrees off the centerline, that of the soe, about 45 degrees, and that of the hikae, about 75 degrees. Because arrangements are three-dimensional, the angles