A strange pairing of words holding on to similar pieces in meaning yet very polar in their visuals and uses. This appears to be the contention of Jun‘ichiro Tanizaki in his analysis of a then quickly westernizing Japan and the abandonment of traditional Japanese culture that has taken place with it. Tanizaki sympathizes with those of the older generation in the slow but definite loss of what he feels are good things gone old.

Tanizaki identifies very much for the first grouping of words. At heart, Tanizaki seems very focused on the experiences of both objects and place. And even more specifically, his attention is placed on the moods they create and how one can interact with them, within them and around them. He sees great significance in these not only in terms of aesthetic motivations, but also the impact that atmosphere can have. This former grouping of words embodies much of what he views as forgotten yet significant experiences. The latter pairing of words refers to everything he sees as breaking with this atmosphere and experience.

The power of light. In expanding upon this word set, he often refers to the way light functions in and out of any setting and the effect it has. He cites light as having the power to make something glow and to control its clarity. He notes light can willingly create mystery, tell stories, and even in some circumstances, enhance the consumption of food. In particular, he ascertains light’s ability to enhance the mood of the room and more importantly too shape shadows into the creators of aura, mood and tone. He sees that often times, when there is too much light, too much clarity, too much of the obvious, we lose these all important nuances and subtleties that create atmosphere and enhance our experience of these objects and spaces.

In his arguments for and against light, Tanizaki mentions repeatedly the void that can be found in western culture versus that of traditional Japan. For he sees in the further westernization of Japan, a slow drop off of these subtle nuances that maintain the power to enhance atmosphere. And this appears to be what Tanizaki is primarily concerned with. The power of these subtle nuances to enhance mood, tenor and flavor. Indeed, Tanizaki seems very concerned with the slow disappearance of atmosphere and most importantly the craft and care for an atmosphere that previously existed naturally.

Tanizaki sees several motivations for this drop off existing within culture. He cites the continuing need of western culture to expand, improve and change. Lights can no longer be candle lights. They need to be brighter, stronger and more efficient. A hallway can no longer remain in the dark. It needs to be clear, warm and inviting. The dimly lit space will not do. Western culture also continues a heavy demand for clarity. Dishes need to be spotless. Silverware must be shiny and polished. A bedroom needs to capture as much sunlight as possible. There is no need for the dirty. For the muddy. For any residue to be built up as a reminder of things past. He notes that this is part of a cultural engine but also goes hand in hand with the gaining prowess of modernity. The need for efficiency and the need to adapt. And the need for speed and power.

All of these factors, he feels, are destroying what little is left of mood and atmosphere. And it is mood, experience and atmosphere that I ultimately feel Tanizaki is most concerned with. For he feels that changes to these spaces, these lights, these objects and these conditions are terminally destroying atmosphere. He cites that in western culture, everything is so bright, so well lit, that there is no more room for mystery. There is no residue of previous existence, no glow of life, and more importantly, no exchange between visitor and visited.

To Tanizaki’s credit and to argue in support of his contention, I see and continue to see a need for this mood, ambience, and for the facilitation of life. It is often difficult to articulate this phenomenon but I see it readily in the consumption patterns and daily living of many a people today, western or eastern.

For example, I have seen and continue to see a love for the minimal in both cultures. Yet there appears to be in some forms, a lack of identity in the minimal that we see today. The engines of the international style have left us with a strong taste in our mouths for the unadorned, completely functional, reduced and understated. Some associate this with modernism as a movement and formal style. But all of this somehow has created spaces, objects, designs that are somehow missing something. They seem to be missing a very crucial piece. This piece I feel is the atmosphere that Tanizaki has cited as disappearing. Mood, residue of life and of previous existence. Where did these elements go? Where and how can one get it back? I find that in the cleanest of clean designs, we are missing something ultimately. Perhaps this missing element is something as simple as a human voice.

For example, when looking around we see the existence and proliferation of the iPod. A now ubiquitous icon. The great growth and leap of the iPod took place not necessarily because of any particular innovation. But it was more in the simplicity of the object and the experience that captivated audiences. There had always been mp3 players to choose from. But never had one looked so pristine and so iconic. Never had one had such a streamlined experience. But, here too, perhaps something was missing. For in all this clarity, where was the human voice? These days, many an iPod have begun a process of being marked, decorated, housed and modified. There is this burgeoning human need to add one’s own voice. People have begun to add their own inflection into the clean lines of an iPod to make it personal. Hand made cases, etchings, designed and printed patterns and casings all are attempting to bring something back into that which is so simple and so clean. So perhaps Tanizaki was onto something when he sought something containing elements of the unclear. He perhaps was seeking a little unclarity for the road.

Another example of this phenomenon is known as ”lived in” value. There truly is something to an object, a place that has aged and been lived in. There is a soul that resonates there. I have just recently started to become familiar with the term Wabi-Sabi which apparently speaks to some of this lived in value. And to some degree, I believe Tanizaki is referencing this phenomenon when he speaks to the aged and the patina that develops in non silver tea kettles. And this could be said of the iPod phenomenon too. For there is something that is significant to that which is aged and which has grown. There is something wonderful about that which has not just appeared but that which has developed over time.

Architectural theorist Christopher Alexander speaks of this phenomenon in certain capacity in some of his writing as well. He sees a severe lacking in traditional architecture to grow and to live past a certain life expectancy. He sees a lack of new structures that facilitate and continue to add to an environment as opposed to take away from it. He sees this as a poor situation in that we are actually creating structures that live shortened lives. These new creations actually die only after a certain amount of years leaving a trail of waste and poor execution. Think of the many strip malls and suburban tract housing that live a glorious but swift existence and death. Many are now being destroyed to continue the cycle. But what happens when one can design a structure, or design anything for that matter that can live beyond and grow into its environment. A new architecture that can actively maintain and extend that sense and notion of life. Can there be an architecture that continues to foster, create and maintain an enhanced environment? These are just some of the questions that he asks. And I feel it is right along the lines of an active problem existing today as well as an active problem that Tanizaki is addressing. Where does that environment go?

Another contemporary example further validating this phenomenon that Tanizaki is gravitating towards is the prevalence and continuing popularity of film noir. As can be seen in recent film history, there was a certain magic on the screen that took place when absolute clarity was not there. During the days when film makers began to break free from the limiting and camera binding chains that the addition of sound technology brought to film, the shadow begin to live a new. There was something even greater experientially brought on by the addition of sharper contrast. There was an intensity brough upon by a living shadow that often times just as equally played a role in the film to provide suspense, mystery, mood and most importantly atmosphere. There was something ultimately enhanced in seeing only half of a face or half of a scene and the stories that the shadows on the walls told as things became clearer or more blurred. Perhaps this is some of that which is muddy and that which is smoky which Tanizaki refers to in providing intrigue.

So with these examples, it can be seen that perhaps yes, something is missing in our contemporary culture. It is the same something that perhaps, to Tanizaki's point of view, Japan had hit upon in its pre-light, pre-westernized, pre-modernized state. He speaks largely of a quality in Asian culture that is happy or accepting of the situation as is. It is housed by a desire to deal with, as opposed to change. Another way to term this perhaps is in the notion of embrace as opposed to the forced. And perhaps we can take a few nods from this. Isn't life better in some regards when we are not sure of the outcome? Are not the days more interesting when there is a bit of mystery? Is not the end result that much more gratifying when we cannot so clearly see what will happen? Isn't there something to be said of creating mood and creating an experience? I think he may have been on to something back then that perhaps we can take from now.