Hagakure Nyumon... Yukio Mishima
I grew up in Kenya. It was a very interesting childhood, probably became a lot more interesting as I grew older and was able to intellectually dissect the experiences that I had had growing up there. My father was a low level executive at Mitsubishi Corp when I was a young child. I think his rank in the corporation was as high as a non Japanese person could reach... which undoubtedly was below his ambition as he soon struck out on his own. While serving tenure at said zaibatsu he travelled to Japan on occasion and our home was full of little souvenirs, books, paintings, electronics etc from his various business trips. Imagine an Indian boy growing up in an African country, surrounded by British influence and living in a home with objects and artifacts from Japan. As a young boy with an incredible imagination in a country where there was no television, I often found myself leafing through these books and imagining what it would be like to be there. Images of temples, cherry blossoms, the colours and textures... the cities. In some ways these early excursions into my imagined Japan must have helped shape my work subconsciously. One of the images which jumped out at me and stuck was of a slender muscular man, wearing little more than a loincloth poised ready with his sword in the snow. The image plays with the troubling idea of a silent death, lurking inescapable, there in this image is a finality that every one will face one day. Very powerful. Recently I came across the same image in a book I was leafing through and I immediately recognized it from my childhood. After much research and reading I discovered the story of Yukio Mishima, one of Japan's literary giants, a man who danced with death throughout his life finally committing sepukku in a dramatic end. Reading about this man really moved me, I have spent much time reflecting on how he originally came into my life, the impression he left and where he picked up years later.
Yukio Mishima was a prolific writer, in his 45 years he published over 100 works of literary art. His work was often tinged if not soaked with death, suicide, conflict, sexuality. A staunch nationalist Mishima assembled his own army and wanted to take Japan back to it's pre-war glory by taking over the military and abolishing the imposed regulations the Allies placed upon Japan after the war. He seemed to have the determination of a man possessed, completely overthrown by his gift, consumed by his writing in a way that blurred the lines between the word and the action. Like many writers he seemed to be writing from personal experience, clearly his vision was lucid and dreamlike, his past experiences very much a part of him and obviously he would have had to be very sensitive and attuned to every passing moment.
On November 25th 1970, when he was only 45, Mishima walked into the headquarters of the Eastern Army in Tokyo and after giving a small prepared speech committed sepukku, a suicide ritual to the Samurai code. Kneeling and plunging a dagger into his abdomen dragging it through his stomach and guts killing himself and tearing his insides apart. He was then beheaded by one of his army's commanders in accordance to the Samurai ritual of kaishaku. It seems very brutal but from what I have learned reading about this man it actually all makes sense. it seems he lived and died by the sword, only that in life his sword was a pen. Think about this for a minute... here is a man who had everything and more to accomplish and yet he was content in taking his life at the age of 45. Remarkable, but in our view this may seem strange. Perhaps living isn't as heavy a burden to some.
I look forward to reading more of Mishima's work and learning more about this man and his life.
Funny how things work. Thank you Mr Mishima for the inspiration.
