Friday, November 25, 2011

"Find your happiness with the flower"

If you've ever been to Japan (or ever visited Engrish.com), you'll have seen them. Yes, I am referring to random spattering of English--or at least a random spattering of words and broken grammar that passes for English--which can widely be seen in Japan in advertising and on graphic t-shirts reminiscent of those popularized in the US by brands like Abercrombie & Fitch (thereby plastering across the chests of many a brand-obsessed middle schooler obscurely sexual one-liners). But I do not mention "Engrish," as another opportunity to simply laugh at amusing grammar mistakes and move on. I would like to attempt to point out some patterns in the usage of English as a visual device in Japan; in particular, on clothing.
Common to a large number of the English-spattered t-shirts and accessories in Japan is the same heavy usage of adjectives seen in the image above: "pleasant," "interesting." For a store, this is an obvious choice for branding and the creation of an image, but there also appear to be a large number of so-called "Engrish" t-shirts that do much the same sort of branding for the people wearing them.
Girls walking in Shinsaibashi, Osaka.
Courtesy of JoshJacobson.net
Despite the extraordinarily poor picture quality of the former--due largely to movement, but also to the difficulty of photographing clothes that people are actually wearing--what both of these garments have in common in their use of branding keywords. The wording on both t-shirts has largely positive or attractive connotations. In the case of the first shirt, the lettering reads: "The party/go to/American/casual/style/specific." The second shirt is printed with a smattering of words: "dignity/responsibility/no more/idealistic/kindness/behavior." Rather than coherent phrases or even ideas, these read as little more than strings of random words. However, they do give one a sort of image, if only a vague one, through connotation. For example, in the case of the first shirt, we have, "America," "party," "casual," and "style,"which do not form a sentence, but which do give an image of youth: the parties of American teenagers broadcast in TV dramas in Japan as well as the US. From the image in the dramas, there is something stylish and slighting exotic about the idea.
The second t-shirt has even less coherency, but is even more keyword-y, even in its arrangement of the words as part of the design of the shirt. This shirt, too, has an obscure element of branding, in its apparently random use of words with attractive meanings or connotations (dignity, responsibility; etc).
If these shirts are to be branding items, then, are they a statement about the wearer? Someone who is "dignified," or a "partier"? Unlikely, I think. In fact, it's far more likely many of the wearers of these infamous t-shirts don't bother to read them before buying them, much in the same way many a foolish Westerner has bought an unfortunate personal effect (in the more unlucky cases, a tattoo) printed with embarrassingly incorrect Chinese characters. Indeed, in expressing pleasure to Japanese friends over such surprisingly poetic English slogans as, "Turn to face the sun, and the shadows fall behind you," or, "A man's walking is a series of falls," most of them were considering the words on their clothing for the first time. What is actually written is less important than the cursory appearance of the words themselves. Similar to the Western fascination with Chinese characters (one which does not, it seems, extend with such enthusiasm towards the similarly beautiful letters of the Arabic alphabet, say), in Japan, the Roman alphabet, and English words, sprinkled properly into a Japanese sentence, are trendy.

The above clipping is from the October 2011 issue of popular fashion magazine S Cawaii. The text in the red box encourages the reader to match pleated skirts to become, or appear as a LADY. "Pleated skirt," another English word, is left in Japanese characters, but in this case, "lady" is the buzzword, and is written stylishly in roman characters, which adds emphasis and call attention to the point of the statement. The second clipping also implements a smattering of English to create a more dynamic block of text that draws the reader's eye. In this final clipping, the English is somewhat difficult even to spot.
In fact, the curly font is used as a sort of lacey border to the photo spread in the center of the page. Should one actually attempt to read it, one finds: "...Meeting OLD EUROPEAN. With lady's grace It has gentleman's / Refined vintage small use. It is casual and the tip of a finger. Perfect style that doesn't..."Again, the phrases are nonsensical, but nonetheless have a vague sort of unifying idea behind them. Nevertheless, yet again, the meaning of the words themselves is less important than their contribution to the graphic design of the advertisement. They provide some interest to fill the white, parchment-like space at the sides of the image, and frame the photograph with a cursive-like scribble which is likely meant to reinforce the "old European" theme of the clothing advertised.
Though the particular English in question--and the correctness of its grammar--may vary in its ability to amuse the native speaker and prompt its spread across the internet, in general, its usage in Japan appears to be much the same: for style, for emphasis, for design, and above all, perhaps, for flourish.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

On Hopes and Desires in Japan

Disney films like Pinnochio, Snow White, Cinderella, and so on are famous for hammering out rhymed lines like, "A dream is a wish your heart makes," phrases which are repeated incessantly in the songs of nighttime parades in Disney themes parks, touting the importance of dreaming, believing, wishing, and the like. The wish has a "magical" appeal to it, and, given its prevalence in the discourse of Disney (as well, to be sure, of many other films/non-film narratives) and the popularity thereof, it would seem safe to say that "wishing" is a concept of which we can't get enough. We wish by blowing out birthday candles, and tossing our money into wells and fountains.
Snow White at her wishing well in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937)
(In Japan, a similar practice is used in prayer before Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples by tossing coins into a large wooden box--it doubles not only as prayer, but also as a contribution to the temple funds. See example thereof below, at Kiyomizudera in Kyoto.)

The interesting thing about wishes in Japanese culture is that they are, in a literal sense, visible. But perhaps, after all, "wish" is the wrong word. While "wish" holds a trivial connotation, "hope," or rather "prayer" is more appropriate. At any rate, one can see and touch these prayers across Japan, most commonly seen in the form of 絵馬 (ema), or small wooden plaques purchased and hung at Shinto shrines. On the surface of these plaques, the prayers/wishes of the visitors are written, who offer them at the shrine, that their wishes might be heard (and granted) by the local kami, or god of the shrine. "The motifs depicted on ema show broad diversity in accordance with the nature of the devotee's wish, and today they increasingly tend to be emblems distributed by shrines to devotees" (source). Ema are often purchased at New Years and hung within a house to protect it until the following New Year, when it will be replaced.
With the opposite aim, one also often finds strings garlanded with knots of paper at Shinto shrines. On these slips of paper are printed bad fortunes, previously drawn at the shrine by visitors. Upon receiving a bad fortune, visitors knot their paper like laundry on a series of strings, in order to leave their bad fortune behind at the shrine, tethered in place.
Shrine in Kawagoe, Saitama Prefecture, December 2010
Other physical wishes/prayers can be seen at traditional Japanese holidays, such as 七夕(tanabata; "The Seventh Evening"), a star festival which occurs annually on the seventh day of the seventh month (by today's calendar, this is usually July 7th). On Tanabata, people's hopes and wishes are written on rectangular strips of paper and then tied with string to a stalk of bamboo. At the end of the festivities, depending on region and local practice, the wishes are then either burned or set afloat on a river, sending the prayers away in the hope that they will be fulfilled.
Offerings & prayers for the recovery of post-3/11/2011 tsunami Japan, during Tanabata 2011 at the Japanese Gardens in Portland, Oregon.
Other wishes and prayers are made into physical form in Japan through origami: in the image above, a vast number of origami cranes are visible strung alongside the paper wishes. Though written words are not used in their making, these cranes serve much the same purpose; in this case, wishes for a swift recovery to the Tohoku region of Japan hit hardest by the earthquake and tsunami in the spring. Their purpose, however, can vary from support to a baseball team aiming for entrance to the famous tournament at Kourien to support for a relative's fight against cancer, in the case of one friend of mine.
Many high school students can also been seen toting their wishes for success in entrance exams--if not on their sleeves--tied the straps of bags. These small cloth talismans are also purchased at shrines.
Whether acquired for a small fee at a shrine or home-made, like Tanabata paper or origami cranes, these items are all part of a Japanese culture of tangible wishes or prayers. Though such practices are not entirely unique to Japan, and some similar to the tree tied with wishes can be seen as far away as Scotland, in Japan, they seem to permeate the landscape of rural areas and cities alike, carried on one's person or affixed to a tree or small structure.
They come in many forms, depending on the wish and the occasion, and can be found even in such a remote place as a windswept clifftop on the shore of Eastern Japan, whose top is only reachable through a near-vertical ascent by ski lift (pictured below, for reference).
Even in such a remote place, every last inch of guardrail was hung with thousands of cell phone straps and metal locks left as prayers by lovers.
Japan is a country full of hopes; but you don't need me to tell you so: you need only look around, and you'll see them everywhere.