flower salad

My father-in-law is an avid hiker, bird watcher, and admirer of wildflowers. He often sends me photographs of colorful flowers to inspire my etegami.

His birthday is coming up, so I asked him if he had any special requests, or did he want to take a gamble and let me surprise him. He sent me more flower photos and then added that he wouldn't mind taking a gamble.

I did make an attempt at the straight-forward approach-- using his photos as a model for painting wildflowers in their natural setting. But mischief, that constant companion of my heart, raised its tousled head, and the next thing I knew, I was painting flowers as food. As in food for the stomach, not food for the soul.

The words in the etegami shown above say o-hanami yori hanami (preferring flower-tasting to flower-viewing), a play on the same-sounding words hanami (flower-viewing) and hanami (flower-tasting). Actually, I made up the second expression by forcing together the word for flower and the word for flavor. I just can't resist wordplay, and Japanese is the perfect language for it.

The words on the etegami shown below quote a poem by haiku master Matsuo Basho. He was reflecting on fate and the fragility of life. Only, it wasn't a horse that ate the flowers. It was yours truly.  I wonder if my father-in-law will think that his gamble paid off.

dewdrops (misuzu kaneko series #3)

Dewdrops

I will keep it to myself

that the flowers were shedding tears

in a corner of the garden

this morning.

If the news were to spread,

and the bees were to hear of it,

they would feel so guilty,

they might return the honey.

poem by Misuzu Kaneko

my translation

inspired by haiku

My etegami are often accompanied by fragments of poetry. No, not my own. Poetry that other people have written. Sometimes the drawing will bring a poem to mind. Other times a poem I've read or heard will compel me to express it in etegami. This is especially true of haiku poetry, and even more true of the haiku of Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), the internationally renowned wandering poet of Japan. When I drew this closeup of a single white flower, it was his haiku on the sound of the temple bell that came to mind. Maybe the numerous yellow stamens reminded me of the knob-ended sticks that are used for hitting some kinds of gongs or temple bells. Whatever it was that went through my subconscious thoughts, the simplicity of the image and the simplicity of haiku seemed to be a perfect match. Try pairing an etegami drawing with one of your favorite haiku, or compose one of your own for the purpose.