INSIGHTS FROM ASIA
Kyoto Journal is an award-winning,
quarterly magazine founded in Kyoto, Japan,
presenting cultural and historical insights from
all of Asia since 1987.
- FICTION, POETRY & REVIEWS
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- INSIGHTS FROM ASIA
- OUR KYOTO
A Culture of Simplicity
The simplicity of wabi-sabi is best described as the state of grace arrived at by a sober, modest, heartfelt intelligence.
“There is something magical about a torii gate floating in the middle of a lake or shoreline. Once I got more immersed in the study of Japanese culture and religions I developed a parallel appreciation and respect for the symbolism and cultural importance they have to the Japanese people.”
Some Gravel, Some Stones: Nature, Art and Spirit in Japanese Gardens
Stephen Mansfield interviews Marion Poschmann, whose novel set in Japan, The Pine Islands, was winner of the Berlin Prize for Literature and shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize.
NOTICE: Kyoto Journal is going digital til 2021
We have made the difficult decision to suspend our printing operation and sales of our subscriptions, until further notice. Back issues are still available and will be shipped to you if we can ship them to you!
Ashwini Bhat: The #claynomad at home
From India, Australia, Japan, to the United States, and elsewhere she pursued variety and experience, which for a time was recorded on her social media under the hashtag #claynomad.
A Critical Moment for Japanese Art Curation
Morse warned that in 2020, over 75% of specialists in Japanese art would be at retirement age. She called on the museum community to focus on developing a new generation of curators in response to the impending exodus of experts from the field.
The Life and Times of Okada Torajiro and his Seiza Method of Self-Harmonization
To actually practice Seiza, one needs no group or leader, no visualization, vocalization, counting, or mantra repetition, and no special symbolic objects, apparatus, or vestments. Seiza is truly more zen than Zen.
Tadashi Nakajima: Encountering the God of Darkness
Cradled, we were slowly merging. This I knew, looking up at the dusty stars, losing all feeling in arms, in legs, smelling the hot rice odor which was now mine as well. I, the man I thought I knew, was gone, become a thousand others.