Fourth Treasure

BERKELEY Kiichi Shimano, founder and sensei of the Zenzen School of Japanese Calligraphy, dipped a brush into the well of black sumi ink. He gently pressed the brush against the inkstone until a precise droplet of excess ink had oozed back into the well. Then, with a fluid motion of brush on paper, he drew a simple horizontal stroke. "You see," he said to Gozen, his number-one student, "when the angle is too flat, the brushstroke lacks life. Try again." Gozen nodded and wet his brush with ink. While Gozen was practicing the horizontal radical, Zenzen sensei wished he had returned home, to Kyoto, twenty-three years ago, when he finally grasped that she would have nothing more to do with him. She never told him why, but without her, he had no reason to stay in America. Of course, he had nothing left in Japan either: no school to teach in, no students to teach, no family--none that would have anything to do with him. But at least in Japan he would have been home. Yet, even after he knew it was futile to pursue her, he wandered the neighborhoods of San Francisco, eventually passing her apartment building at the corner of Bush and Taylor, on the steep slope of Nob Hill. Not stopping, he would walk past the Tempura House restaurant on Powell Street, where she worked. Still, though, he was without hope that meeting her would change her mind. Or her feelings. Always, after a day of meandering, he would find an inexpensive restaurant where he would dine alone. Back then, he taught calligraphy at the East Bay Center for Japanese Arts, a loosely organized school in Berkeley. The center was in an old house in the south campus area, half a block from the craziness of Telegraph Avenue, the last bastion of the sixties' hippie culture. The first time he walked into the center was still a sharp memory of ratty chairs around a wood table scarred with thin burns from incense sticks. On the table was an unruly pile of magazines--from the Economist to Mad. A bulletin board was deluged with handwritten flyers for Japanese-language tutoring, karate and aikido martial art instruction, and a Zen pet-sitting service. Surprisingly, many of his calligraphy students became good, despite their enthusiastically undisciplined approach, compared with students in Japan. Perhaps the rigid, focused practices had held back his Japanese students. Or, maybe, his American students lacked a fear of making mistakes, allowing them to progress more rapidly. Away from Japan, his own calligraphy style began to evolve into a more personal, nontraditional style. More inward. His nights spent alone, most likely, had contributed to the change. During his time alone, he discovered a sadness within him. Not depressing, the feeling was comfortable, and it became his companion. He no longer had to dine alone. Within two years, he was teaching a core of excellent and dedicated students, while the center began to undergo many changes--instructors left, new ones were hired, students left, fewer replaced them. Getting paid had become a problem, keeping a regular schedule became impossible. When the disruption was too much to bear, he decided to strike out on his own, to start his own school of shodo--the "way of calligraphy." He would have preferred to locate his school in San Francisco, perhaps in the Japantown area, but the number of potential students was greater in Berkeley, where there were several Zen centers and other Asian religious and art groups. He found a house where he could both live and teach in a quiet neighborhood west of campus several blocks. With commitments from several of his calligraphy students to continue lessons, and with the money he had saved teaching, he was able to buy the house. A name for the school was required for the business registration forms. He could think of absolutely nothing--zenzen, in Japanese. Nothing, nothing. So that's what he named his scShimoda, Todd A. is the author of 'Fourth Treasure' with ISBN 9780385503525 and ISBN 0385503520.