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SPONTANEITY OF ACTION AND SPONTANEITY OF EFFECT
The aesthetic values associated with the restrained tradition, which had its origin in the Yayoi Period, prepared the way for the quick acceptance of Zen Buddhism when it was introduced from China at the end of the 12th century. Moreover, the tea masters drew on earlier aesthetic forms, such as Ise Jingū, farmhouses and palaces, when creating the architecture of the teahouse. In turn, terms like wabi and sabi that describe the qualities associated with the tea ceremony and related arts, provided the basis for the emergence in the seventeenth century of the concept of shibusa as a recognized aesthetic concept. In other words, there was a very close relationship between the development of shibusa and the Zen arts. The concept of shibusa captures the aesthetic taste associated with a high point in the history of Zen aesthetics. It would be misleading, however, to equate shibusa with Zen aesthetics. Shibusa, associated with spontaneity of effect, is an aesthetic category on the continuum between restraint and exuberance. The other terms on the continuum will be explained later. Shibusa also participates in another continuum —the continuum between spontaneity of effect and spontaneity of action. Unlike shibusa, however, spontaneity of action is not an aesthetic category but the freedom that comes from ego transcendence
Spontaneity of Action Shibui art is not necessarily the result of spontaneity of action on the part of the artist. In most cases, it is probably impossible to know whether spontaneity of action is involved without actually observing the production process. The following discussion considers several examples of what might be considered genuine spontaneity.
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Spontaneity Resulting from Internalizing a GrammarToday, many people in Japan study an art, such as the tea ceremony, which was originally closely associated with Zen Buddhism. But their study does not necessarily involve a search for religious insight. People take lessons from Tea Masters on how to move gracefully so that every action —no matter how circumscribed by convention —appears to be natural. This was referred to above as spontaneity of effect. One way to create spontaneity of effect is to learn a set of rules for imitating the actions of the teacher. Occasionally, an individual goes beyond imitation to genuine mastery of an art. In these cases, genuine spontaneity of action emerges from well-internalized rules. A master does not need to review the rules or think about the most appropriate actions; he or she knows them intuitively. Just as the native speakers of a language internalize a grammar, masters of an art form have an internalized grammar that allows them to create behavior and artifacts without conscious thought. The same is true of music, drama and the other art forms, as well as sports. They provide the opportunity to transcend one’s ego and experience a sense of freedom that contrasts strongly with the rules and regulations of everyday life. In other words, paradoxical as it might seem at first glance, formalism and adherence to rules are not necessarily antithetical to spontaneity in the long run. Left: Developing the skill to perform a tea ceremony fluidly and spontaneously takes many years of practice. Right: A Shino tea ceremony bowl.
Spontaneity of Folk Art Like the early Tea Masters, Yanagi Sōetsu, founder of the folk art (mingei) movement in Japan, was able to see beauty in ordinary objects. His efforts to establish folk art museums, numerous publications, and personal influence on well-known potters have helped prevent many traditional arts and crafts from dying in an age of machine technology. In an essay on mingei (1984), Yanagi describes how Sung pots were painted. The paintings were done not by professionals, but by the children of poor families, who achieved excellence by way of endless repetition. These children had to draw the same picture hundreds of times each day. This constant repetition allowed them to work without hesitation. All of his life, Yanagi emphasized the unassertiveness of folk art. Such pottery, he argued, is made to be used, not looked at. The potter produces a limited number of different forms; the pottery is not signed and it is inexpensive. Because the potter’s move-ments are done without thought, what she or he makes has spontaneity and charm, as opposed to the contrived feeling one receives from many professional pieces. Folk pottery is an example of what Yanagi terms the "everyday mind" of Zen. Like internalizing a grammar, the production of folk pottery can involve a type of ego transcendence.
This folk artist is mass producing wooden kokeshi dolls. Because he makes so many, he can work spontaneously without thinking.
An unpretentious and unsigned Bizen style pot whose natural colors are enhanced by a salt glaze near the bottom. Not all folk art is mass produced. This humorous set on the right was made by a farmer with time on his hands in the winter.
Spontaneity of the Child The art of a young child is spontaneous because he or she has not yet learned rules and techniques, the criteria for differentiating between what is considered beautiful and ugly, or fear of ridicule. Children are experimental in approach. They are not as much concerned with whether their art represents something in the external world as they are with the pleasure of seeing a crayon leave behind a trace of color, or shaping and reshaping clay in their fingers. This kind of pleasure is unlearned; its source is in the limbic system of the brain and it is evoked by specific perceptual and motor activities (Young 1982). It has also been noted in animals, especially chimpanzees. The chimp, Alpha, for example, when presented with a choice of either food or drawing materials, frequently chose the latter, even when hungry (Schiller 1951). Alpha destroyed many of his drawings, which makes it clear that his pleasure was not derived from the finished product but from the activity itself. The spontaneous art of the child has a freedom of expression that is the envy of sensitive adults who have to work hard to transcend the rules they have spent years acquiring.
Spontaneity of Action in Zen Buddhism Many of the Japanese arts were stimulated by the introduction of Zen Buddhism into Japan in the 12th century. Zen Buddhism is a religion that has gone to great extremes to avoid formalism. It insists that the original insights of the historical Buddha must be transmitted directly from master to student rather than being canonized in a holy book, codified in a set of rules, or institutionalized in a sacred organization. Because of its intuitive, aesthetic approach to life, Zen was more compatible with Japanese sensibilities than any other form of Buddhism. There is a close association between Zen Buddhism as a religion and the arts to which Zen gave rise. Basic to an understanding of Zen are the concepts of zazen and zen-ki. Zazen refers to sitting meditation. Sometimes when one sits, both mind and body "drop away" to reveal the essential nature of reality as mu —the formless potential beyond time and space that constantly manifests itself in the phenomenal world. Because ultimate reality is One, the experience of mu is such that the boundaries between self and other things, times, and places are broken down. The dynamic formlessness of mu is what is meant by the concept of "Buddha Nature." Buddha Nature is not a cosmic entity apart from the self, but rather the "Ground of Being" in which everything participates. According to Zen thinkers, when an individual encounters the creative Ground of his or her being, he or she experiences the awakening of a deeper creativity and is inspired to engage in what Hisamatsu (1982: 11) refers to as zen-ki(Zen Activity) —"the vital working of Zen itself" which "contains the meanings of wellspring, movement, dynamism, impulse, thrust, spontaneity, and immediacy." Just as the potentiality of mu is constantly expressing itself in form, one emerges from zazen with a new appreciation of the world of the senses. Having encountered the ultimate source of creativity, the awakened individual may be inspired to be more creative. Also, for the awakened individual, fame and fortune tend to lose their appeal. As one progresses along the path of enlightenment, one becomes increasingly free of attachment to things, rules, and to one’s ego. The result is a type of freedom and spontaneity that allows one to live in the present moment, rather than constantly recalling the past or anticipating the future. The awakened individual may try to communicate this new sense of freedom with minimal reliance upon conceptualization or intellectualization –processes that cause one’s essential nature to be obscured in the first place. Art, because of its direct appeal to the senses and intuitive understanding, is the human activity best suited to that task. It is no accident that Zen Buddhism was closely associated with numerous arts (such as the tea ceremony, Noh drama, flower arranging, black-ink brush painting, calligraphy and archery) in those East Asian countries in which it reached maturity, including China, Japan, and Korea. The Zen arts (arts associated with Zen though not necessarily created by Zen) served a dual purpose. They helped focus the mind and bring about awakening; but they also provided an avenue of expression that was more direct and experiential than analytic discourse. 
One of the most famous Zen painters was Sesshū (1420-1506). "Winter Landscape" has a feeling of spontaneity in spite of the high degree of structure. The circle in black ink on the right, often painted by Zen priests, represents the concept of mu --the formless potential beyond time and space. The texture of the ink indicates the speed and spontaneity with which the painting was done.
If true Zen art is a spontaneous expression of the wellsprings of creativity, motivated by the encounter with mu rather than the desire to produce a "beautiful" object, how many people are capable of producing Zen art? The answer is very few. Zen Buddhism and other forms of religious contemplation have long been in decline in Japan. Yet, paradoxically, arts originally closely associated with Zen, such as the tea ceremony, flower arranging, and certain types of pottery, are still popular. They are heirs to a long tradition which has eroded the religious foundation and channeled the original Zen spontaneity into multiple "schools," each with its own sets of rules designed to simulate spontaneity. The practice of transmitting an art form over time in a hierarchical, family-like organization, composed of a master and his/her students, is known as the iemoto system. The tendency to simulate the spontaneity of the early masters did not take long to set in. After the passing of the great tea master, Sen no Rikyū, Furuta Oribe led the movement to favor crooked tea cups. One of Furuta’s students, the famous Honami Kōetsu, broke one of his own cups called “Seppō” (meaning “snow-capped peak”) and put it back together with gold. People who use this cup cannot help noticing the mended portion and imagining how beautiful and perfect this cup would be if it had not been broken (Morikawa 1991). Modern practitioners of the Zen-derived arts have departed even further from original Zen beliefs and practices. The head of a modern flower-arranging school, for example, usually has many students who pay high fees to receive a series of lessons that culminate in a special teaching certificate. The head of the school is often promoted in a newsletter containing a variety of pictures of the "master" receiving the acclaim of followers. One well-known potter, working in a tradition which was originally developed to produce utensils for the tea ceremony, destroys inferior pots and saves only the masterpieces, which he signs. This greatly inflates the price of his pottery, frequently ensuring that his work will be displayed on a shelf instead of being used for practical purposes. The various schools of traditional arts in Japan continue to produce highly competent craftspeople who are part of the legacy that the formative age of Zen culture (from the 13th to the 16th centuries) left to the modern world. The products of these Zen-derived schools, nonetheless, are not always Zen in motivation or in spirit. They may be shibui and exhibit what we have termed "spontaneity of effect" below, but they are not necessarily the result of zen-ki. (spontaneity of action). Nevertheless, it should be kept in mind, as mentioned above, that even the most ritualized ceremony or formal work of art can, if the conditions are right, lead to the experience of transcendence and a "freeing of the mind" that is associated with spontaneity. In brief, although spontaneity of action and spontaneity of effect are different and should not be confused, they are not necessarily antithetical.
Spontaneity of Effect The Japanese leave very little to chance. Traditional Japanese culture places importance upon planning things to the last detail and rehearsing events so that they take place without a mistake. The arts are no exception. An apprentice studies with a master for years before being allowed independence of thought or action, and techniques are practiced until they become second nature. There are, moreover, specific rules and procedures for achieving what might be called spontaneity of effect. Bizen pottery provides a good example. Bizen pottery, one of the so-called six ancient kilns of Japan originating in the 13th century (Kamakura Period), normally is not glazed. The pottery is baked in large wood-fired kilns for many days at a low temperature. This brings out a variety of subtle colors provided by minerals in the clay itself. Small pancake-shaped pieces of fired clay may be placed on plates to create a lower temperature underneath, resulting in a warm orange color that contrasts with the darker colors of the rest of the plate. Other techniques include throwing straw or salt into the kiln while it is being fired. The former burns at a high temperature, leaving its shape etched into the surface; the latter creates a sprinkling of gray to white color. Falling ashes from the burning logs leave their mark as well. These procedures often produce pottery that was highly prized by the early tea masters because it has a natural, spontaneous quality that does not evoke a sense of mechanical regularity or mathematical precision. Bizen pottery provides one of the best examples of what is meant by shibui. The unpredictability of the outcome due to chance factors provides spontaneity of effect. It could be questioned, however, whether the simple but sophisticated beauty of Bizen pottery is the result of genuine spontaneity on the part of the potter. The same question could be raised in connection with a piece of pottery we purchased in 1968 from Ogawa Yukihiko, a young Tokyo artist whose work was on display at the National Museum of Modern Art and whom we were privileged to meet. Over lunch, Mr. Ogawa talked about the piece we had bought. The highly textured, earthtone slips were inspired by moss growing on two sides of a tree frequently seen by the artist. The two sides are different in color because rain hits one side of the tree more than the other, resulting in an olive green moss on one side and a rust-colored moss on the other. Because it was thrown on a wheel, the pot was originally symmetrical. At the last minute, the artist slapped one side of the pot to flatten it and bumped the neck on the other side to throw it off balance. It is one of our favorite pieces because of its soft earthy tones, interesting texture, and feeling of spontaneity. But the spontaneity is, of course, somewhat contrived.
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  The orange areas on this Bizen plate (left) were created by placing pancake-shaped pieces of clay on the plate while firing. The whitish areas are produced by throwning salt into the kiln. After the small pot by Ogawa (right) was thrown, it was intentionally bumped on the neck and side to create what we have called "spontaneity of effect."
Another example of consciously planned spontaneity of effect is provided by the concept of suteishi (discarded rock) in Japanese gardens. The term suteishi is applied to a rock that is placed so casually that it appears almost as an afterthought. According to Slawson (1991:139), who studied the "secret teachings" of garden construction with a master in Kyoto, the "aesthetic role of such rocks was clearly to infuse the composition with a free-flowing, spontaneous quality." Conclusion We have argued that spontaneity of effect is not necessarily achieved by spontaneity of action on the part of the artist. Spontaneity of effect can result from chance factors such as the drifting of wood ash in a Bizen kiln. Or it can result from intentional factors such as bumping a pot before it is dry to create asymmetry. Likewise, spontaneity of action, defined as ego-transcending activity, does not necessarily result in spontaneity of effect or shibui artifacts. For example, although a Zen painting usually has a spontaneous quality about it, and it is also often shibui in its simplicity, understatement, and restrained colors, this is not always the case. Zen art can be created by an individual whose creative urge has been stimulated by an encounter with mu but whose artistic talents are minimal. The resulting creations may have a kind of naïve charm, but lack the sophistication associated with the concept of shibusa. Or they may have very little aesthetic value at all. In other words, Zen art is not necessarily shibui because zazen and zen-ki do not guarantee aesthetic merit on the part of the finished product. We have to disagree on this issue with Yanagi to whom we are otherwise indebted for many of our ideas. Yanagi equated shibusa with Zen enlightenment and aesthetics. For example, he said (1984: 124) "The shibui quality is the very skin of mu (‘void’), its outward form." It is important to remember that art is not the goal of Zen Buddhism, but a by-product. The devotee does not practice Zen in order to learn how to paint or make pottery. He or she wishes to encounter the Ground of one’s Being. This sometimes leads to a fundamental transformation of the personality and a profound sense of detached spontaneity; any association with aesthetic talent or skills is coincidental. Likewise, a sense of detached spontaneity does not necessarily lead to a desire to create shibui art. Sometimes zen-ki results in shibui artifacts, but not always. Detached spontaneity, because it is neither rule-directed nor goal-oriented, may produce behavior and objects that do not meet ordinary standards of beauty and propriety. It is more likely to produce puzzles and enigmas that may be perceived as disturbing. For this reason, detached spontaneity is seldom an asset in achieving wealth or fame, and could be viewed as of little practical value. From another perspective, however, even if detached spontaneity is perceived by many to be "idealistic" or "impractical," it plays an important role in Japanese culture because it preserves the ideal of freedom and spontaneity in a highly structured society. Most Japanese prefer to transcend the restrictions of everyday life by participating in the color and glamour of the soto world with its diversions and leisure time activities, or entering into a private world of fantasy, with its illusion of spontaneity. A few people attempt to introduce interest into their everyday lives and surroundings by creating a shibui environment characterized by spontaneity of effect. Fewer still aim for spontaneity of action by immersing themselves in ego-transcending activities such as the arts, meditation or sports. All of these methods have their place in society. The relation among them is discussed in the conclusion to the book.
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