Chōken with flower bundles and paulownia on a purple ground. 18th c. Tokyo National Museum.
Most nō costumes are made of silk, while typical kyōgen costumes are made from bast fibers like hemp. The garments are tailored as ‘T-shaped’ kimono with box sleeves that have small openings at the cuff (kosode), as broad-sleeved jackets with open cuffs (ōsode), or as pleated ‘divided skirts’ (hakama). They can be a solid color, or patterned in the weave, or given a surface decoration through dyeing, stenciling, or embroidering. Various accessories, like sashes, wigs, headdresses, and handheld objects complete the costume.
Costume changes and costume manipulation are scripted into the performance. The former range from on-stage donning of extra garments (monogi) to rearranging costume elements. Small adjustments in the draping of a costume often indicate a change of scene.
One-act plays often have a break where the shiteretires to the kōken seat (stage right of the instrumentalists), kneels facing back, and allows the stage assistant (kōken) to change his costume. This monogioften consists of draping an outer robe over his costume. For example, in Hagoromo (The Feather Mantle), at the end of the first part, the fisherman finally agrees to return her feather robe to the moon maiden. After he hands it to her, she puts it on, or rather has it put on her by the stage assistants, while the instrumentalists play monogi music. The robe is a diaphanous chōken with wide flowing sleeves that will come into full play when she dances.
The monogi section of Hagoromo. Shite: Kongō Tatsunori. Photo: F. M. Fioravanti.
In Hagoromo, the donning of the chōken completes the moon maiden and enables her to “fly” back home. In Matsukaze a similar on-stage donning of a chōken, in this case, a keepsake robe left by her lover, transfers his spirit to her and she becomes temporarily possessed, dancing as one with him. This is called a “spirit shift” dance (utsurimai). The theme of gaining a personality by wearing something that belonged to someone else appears in many plays: Izutsu, Kakitsubata, and Futari Shizuka to name a few.
Stripping costumes
At times a robe is taken off during the performance. In Tomoe, the woman warrior, after fending off the enemies with her halberd, follows her dying lord’s command and removes her armor and warrior’s cap (nashiuchi eboshi) before returning to the homeland.
She cut the upper cords. Gently took off her equipment and set it down. Likewise, she reverently removed. Her warrior’s cap. And pulled her kosode over her head (to hide her face).
In performance, Tomoe may symbolically remove only her tall cap and place it quietly on the stage.
In Dōjōjia woman emerges from under a bell as a jealous snakelike being. Inside the bell, the actor has loosened his outer karaori. When the bell rises the actor is crouched under the garment. Shortly afterward, he wraps the karaori around about him, and then like a snake casting off its skin, finally discards it, to release the true intent and reveal the snake figure, often symbolized by triangle patterns in the undergarments.
Sleeve manipulation
In addition to the dramatic use of garments such as described above for Dōjōji, there are several standard ways in which the broad open sleeves of the outer robes are manipulated during dances. Rather than having specific dramatic intent, these draw attention, add color, and serve to punctuate moments in the performance. They include:
Sode wo kakeru 袖を掛ける (Flipping the sleeve to the back and over the arm)
Sode wo maku 袖を巻く(Wrapping the sleeve around the arm)
Sode wo kazuku 袖をかづく (Raising the sleeve so it rests over the head)
The sleeves are flipped over the arms. Hagoromo. Shite: Kongō Tatsunori. Photo: F. M. Fioravanti.
Left sleeve flipped over the arm. Izutsu. Shite: Izumi Yoshio. Photo: Monica Bethe.
Karaori weave. Momiji on orange ground. Photo: Irwin Wong.
Much of the visual impact of a nō and kyōgen performances derives from the garments, masks, and accessories that make up the costumes. From plain silk travel jackets to densely patterned multicolored robes, these voluminous layered outfits combine texture, color, and pattern to create characters. The specific garment types define the role – old man, young woman, fisherman, daimyō, or priest – while the colors and patterns reflect the individual character as interpreted by the actor.
Nō masks are handled by shite actors, who are responsible for borrowing or purchasing, storing, and donning them for a performance. Masks are used exclusively on the day of the performance, and not during training or rehearsals. It is because actors treat masks with the utmost care and respect that masks as old as six hundred years can still be used on stage today.
Each play has a prescribed set of possible mask and costume combinations. Typically plays have one ‘standard’ and a number of ‘variant’ (kogaki) ways of being produced. Such types of mise-en-scene also differ from school to school. What kind of mask is going to be used for a certain performance is established by shite school tradition. For example, while the Kanze school usually uses Waka-onna for roles of young women, the Kongō school often uses Magojirō (a mask exclusive to the Kongō school) for the same roles. However, actors may be able to choose from several masks of the same type (for example several different renditions of Ko-omote or Waka-onna). As a consequence, the shite may choose which mask best suits the performance that is being prepared. Freedom to choose masks also depends on the experience and seniority of an actor. Not all actors have a large collection of masks and costumes. More often, actors rent masks and costumes from families such as the iemoto, who often owns the best collection.
Preparing the mask
Nō masks are not mere stage tools, but highly ‘charged’ objects. Actors do not use masks in individual training sessions or rehearsals. This is not only to preserve the mask from wear, but also to maintain a sense of freshness and impromptu on the day of the performance. If the mask needs to be transported from where it is stored to the performance venue, the shite is personally responsible for its safety. This is unlike costumes, which are often handled by assistants.
The mask is donned off-stage for all nō plays except Okina. Before the performance, the shite prepares the mask in the gakuya backstage. Small cushions made of paper or cloth (men-ate) are attached to the back of the mask in order to keep it from being in direct contact with the skin of the actor and adjust the angle. This prevents sweat from damaging the masks, but also helps the actor breathe with more ease. In addition, the space between mouth and mask allows the voice to reverberate. Usually, three cushions are used: one for the forehead, and two for the cheeks. Each actor has a personal set of cushions, made to fit the size and bone structure of the face, but also the different size and shape of various masks.
Using a mirror and consulting with assistants, actors check the uke (angle) of the mask, adjusting the cushions so that the mask is centered and tilted at the desired angle. Finally, two cords of braided silk are attached to small holes at the sides of the mask. The color of the cords (black, purple, red, white, etc.) depends on the type of mask. The mask is then set aside as the actor starts to get dressed. After the costuming process is completed, a few minutes before entrance onto the stage, the shite dons his mask in the mirror room. The shite sits on a stool in front of the mirror, and receives the mask from a stage assistant. He reverently bows to it, and takes some time to observe what will become the face of the character he will portray. The actor makes sure that the mask is placed correctly on the face, before assistants tie the silk cords behind the head of the shite, checking that the position and strength of the knot suit the actor’s wish. Finally, the shite contemplates his image in the mirror before he stands behind the maku curtain, ready to walk on stage.
The mask within the costumed figure
Those who watch nō for the first time often wonder why masks are smaller than a human (at least a male) face. One hypothesis is that nō masks are the result of centuries of development of masks in earlier performance genres, such as gigaku, bugaku or kagura. It is probable that, even at the time of the early development of nō, the level of sophistication of characters and plots required less stereotyped, more realistic masks that would enhance dramatic effects. Historical speculations apart, smaller masks allow for the character to appear bigger or taller than they would do with a larger mask. Smaller masks also allow the audience to see part of the jaw and neck of the actor, creating a double-alienating effect. On the one hand, an incongruity between the materiality of the actor, opposed to the fictional dimension of the character, is revealed. On the other hand, the sweating neck and moving jaw of the actor adds human realism to what would otherwise be a fully clothed moving statue. This apparent contradiction is a constant element, and one point of interest in nō performance. The relative size of kyōgen masks can work to different effect: their use often plays with the idea of disguise. The trickster puts on a mask and poses as a statue, the harassed servant puts on a devil’s mask and tries to scare his master. In these cases the mask can fit easily in the actor’s hand. He places it on his face and removes it repeatedly during the performance. The fictional and biological realities are overtly woven into the comedy.
Visibility
Nō masks greatly limit the actor’s vision. Masks representing human-like facial features, such as Ko-omote or Shōjō typically have small (approx. 1cm), square eye openings. Because of the small size of openings and of the distance between eyes and eye openings, wearing this kind of mask results in a dramatic loss of peripheral vision. Larger masks, such as those of demons or supernatural beings tend to have larger eye openings, allowing for a better vision. This, in turn, facilitates faster movement. In order to move on stage with a severely restricted field of view, actors must rely on elements of the stage that meet their eyesight. The four pillars standing at each corner of the square stage, as well as the two pillars on the hashigakari bridge help the actor navigate on stage. The two hand drum players, sitting on stools upstage center, are also visible when facing upstage. However, depending on the distance, the actor may be unable to see other performers sitting on the floor, low stage properties, or even the edge of the stage. Close object may be visible through the nostril openings of the mask. Falling from stage is rare, but not impossible. In addition to sight, actors rely on touch: their feet can sense the fissures between wooden floorboards and the joins of different stage areas, such as where hashigakari and ato-za meet. When stepping back facing the front, the actor may also guess distance or proximity by listening to the musicians playing behind him.
Effects
Nō: Kurozuka. Shite: Udaka Tatsushige. Photo: F. M. Fioravanti
Nō masks are typically smaller than an average male face, yet they are carved and painted with great attention to detail: they release their full expressive potential when used with moderation. Nō actors are famous for keeping the same basic stance with bent knees and straight back (kamae) throughout the duration of the performance. They move on stage keeping a low center of gravity and sliding their feet (suriashi) to avoid bouncing up and down as they step. One of the purposes of this controlled movement is to keep the mask steady, avoiding unwanted changes of angle or tilt. Masks portraying human beings allow for stage effects known as kumoru (to cloud) or teru (to brighten), by which a slight tilt of the mask noticeably changes the expression from sorrow (down) to joy (up). This is achieved through adjusting the angle of the chest rather than tilting the head alone. It is important for the actors to be constantly aware of the angle of the mask throughout the performance by keeping a straight back and neck. Other masks, such as those of powerful gods or demons, are less apt to express subtle emotions. Instead, they are used with sharp left-right head movements called kiru (lit. to cut), emphasizing the fierce nature of the character the mask represents. The round metallic eyes cut the light in jerks so they appear to jump with quick movement. Not all plays require the shite to wear a mask. In plays in which shite or tsure are male human beings who are alive in the narrative present, the actors do not wear a mask. (1) This convention is called hitamen (lit. ‘direct face’). Many of these plays (e.g. Hachinoki, Ataka, or Mochizuki) belong to 4th category genzai-mono (‘present-time plays’). Even when shite and tsure perform without a mask, they keep a neutral expression throughout the play. Hitamen roles are considered particularly challenging because the actor is supposed to hide physical strain. The face is now the mask.
(1) There are a few exceptions to this rule, for example Kantan, in which the shite is a Chinese character, hence requiring more ‘exotic’ features from the Japanese point of view, and Shunkan, whose tragedy requires the expressive capability of a mask.
Though in the past some actors were also mask-carvers, today the two professions are separate. Early carvers, contemporaneous with Zeami (late 13-14th century) created types of masks that would later become standards. In the late sixteenth century certain masks from each type were seen as superior and became honmen or ‘models’, which were then replicated as utsushi or ‘copies’. The art of the carver shifted from creating new masks to reproducing standard models. By the Edo period (1603-1868) mask-makers established lineages, and often signed the back of their masks or added an identifying mark. Unlike costumes, which are subject to wear and old ones cannot generally be used in contemporary performance, masks dating back to the Muromachi period (1392–1573), when most model masks were created, or to the Edo period (1603–1868), when carvers focused on creating beautiful copies, are still used on stage today. This method of production has led to the creation of groups of masks that are identified by the same name, although they may have unique features that distinguish them from the model. For example, the actor and mask carver Magojirо̄ made a young woman mask which now goes under its name. Later, another mask carver, Kawachi, made another version of the same mask. The two have the same name, but appear different.
Each noh mask is created from a single block of wood. While ancient masks were made of various types of wood such as kiri (paulownia), kusunoki (camphor tree) or hinoki (Japanese cypress), modern masks are made with hinoki. This light, soft, and highly warp-and-rot-resistant type of wood is often used for the construction of sacred items or buildings such as shrines and temples.
Carvers observe the grain and growth rings of the chosen block of wood in order to choose which direction to use: usually the top of the head will correspond to the direction which the tree is growing, and the face of the mask will correspond to the inner part of the block, as if it were looking inside the trunk from which it was taken. This is to avert latent resins remaining in the block of wood which tend to flow outwards, from staining the face of the mask.
In carving, hammers, saws, and chisels of various sizes are used. No electric-powered devices are used in the process. Paper templates (katagami) of the silhouette, circumference and other details of the model mask can be used to check proportions and placement during the carving process. Expert mask makers do not always need or slavishly follow katagami, and may carve ‘free-hand’.
Much attention is put on the kind of shadows the mask will have as it is used.Effects such as teru and kumoru(‘lighting’ or ‘clouding’ the mask) achieved by tilting the mask up or down are created by sophisticated shifts of light and shadow on its surface. If the carving is successful, a skilled actor will be able to create the effect of sadness, hope, or anger from the same object. The carving of the back of the mask is also given special attention, as this is the last impression of the mask the performer will see before donning it. In addition, a good carving of the back of the mask allows for a better resonance of the voice.
Mask making at Udaka Michishige’s atelier
Painting
Once the carving is complete, the front of the mask is first covered with several layers of white base made by mixing crushed white shell powder (gofun) with natural animal glue (nikawa). Once this base has been smoothed with sandpaper, the mask is painted using natural earth pigments, applied with brushes. For masks like shintai or hannya, a gold powder-based pigment is used for painting the teeth to express their supernatural character. In other cases copper plates are added for eyes or teeth. Other masks, such as Ō-tobide or Shishiguchi, are entirely painted with gold.
Though the painting of some masks may appear to be relatively simple, a closer look reveals great attention to detail, for example nuances in the skin tone, or loose hair, often painted strand by strand with fine brushes. Just like carving, painting aids the play of shadows on the surface of the mask, allowing the actor to achieve desired effects.
Since fixing agents are not applied once the painting is complete the mask is particularly prone to natural deterioration. Therefore, masks are held by touching only the area around the holes where the cords (men-himo) are attached to fix the mask on the performer’s head.
Finishing touches
At the end of the painting process, hair from manes and tails of horses is added for hair, beards, and sometimes eyebrows of masks of the jō old men type, or for those of elder-looking supernatural beings (e.g. Akujō) or certain variants of Ko-beshimi. Masks used to portray rustic or rough old men (e.g. Sankō-jō or Warai-jō) usually sport hair inserts for both beard and mustache, while those expressing a noble or godly nature have painted mustache and just a hair goatee (e.g. Ishiō-jō). Some masks, such as Ō-beshimi or Shishi-guchi, have metal (copper) inserts covering the eyes and sometimes the teeth, with the purpose of reflecting light and creating a dramatic effect. Exceptions to these typical inserts are the round, puffy eyebrows for Hakushiki-jō (Okina), made with rabbit fur or flattened hemp thread, and the deer horn for Ikkaku-sennin. The back of the mask is often uniformly painted with lacquer (urushi) in order to prevent the wood from absorbing the actor’s breath and perspiration. Finally, a brown-grey patina is applied to the face and masks are often deliberately scarred to create a sense of age. This is an important part of mask-making as it makes the mask appear more realistic once seen from a distance. The copy of the ancient model is now complete. Masks are stored in silk bags and placed inside boxes made of paulownia wood (kiribako).
Nо̄ and kyōgen masks were perfected between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. Although influenced by pre-existing traditions, nо̄ and kyōgen masks developed distinctive features differentiating them from earlier masks, like those imported from and continent and used in gigaku mimed skits and bugaku court dances. During the fifteenth century nōgaku was supported by the aristocracy, and performers adapted plays and staging techniques to the cultivated taste of their new patrons. While earlier traditions featured ritual dances or comic sketches, and music, nо̄ developed a more elaborate dramaturgy. With increasingly complex characters came the need for masks that allowed the actor to express a wider range of emotions. While early masks portray mostly gods, demons, or exotic characters, those used to portray men and women emerge later.
The standard Japanese word for ‘mask’ is kamen (‘temporary face’), but noh masks are normally referred to as omote (‘face’), suggesting a quality of ‘truth’ of the noh mask, an object of revelation rather than concealment. Noh and kyōgen masks cover the face, but not the head of the actor, leaving the chin visible as noh aesthetics do not seek stage realism. Significantly, most noh masks have an open mouth: it sometimes seems as if they were about to say something.
Nō and kyōgen masks have been transmitted within families of actors, patron amateurs such as the Edo-period daimyо̄ families, temples, and shrines. After the upheavals following the Meiji Restoration during the second half of the nineteenth century, some actors were forced to sell their masks. A large number of these have ended up in museums or in the hands of foreign collectors. Today, Japanese masks can be admired in museums in Japan and around the world, such as the Japanese National Museums, the Mitsui Memorial Museum in Tokyo, the Tokugawa Art Museum in Nagoya, the Hayashibara Museum in Okayama, the Kanazawa Noh Museum and the Museum of Noh Artifacts, Sasayama in Japan, as well as the Musée Guimet in Paris, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, the Museum Rietburg, Zurich, the Museum of East Asian Art, Berlin, and the Victoria & Albert Museum in London.
Nōgaku is a traditional Japanese stage art combining poetic and dramatic texts, chant, music, dance and visual arts expressed by masks, costumes and stage design. “Masked dance-drama”, “total theatre”, “dramatized ritual” – defining what nōgaku is can be difficult, especially when one tries to do so using words such as theatre, dance, or play, which developed in a different cultural context. Today, theword nōgaku 能楽 refers to two “twin arts”: nō 能, based on chant and dance, and kyōgen 狂言, its comedic counterpart, based on dialogue. Despite its many writing and performance rules and restrictions, which have been transmitted since the 14th century, the diversity of the plays in the current repertoire (around 200 plays) makes it difficult to conceive of a single all-encompassing definition. Nō is minimal and at the same time impressionistic. In a nō play, time and space are fluid: memory emerges as reality, the past slips into the present, and the setting moves from location to location but is always “here”.
Nōgaku has been transmitted uninterruptedly for over 650 years. It emerged in the 14th century as the combination of various pre-existing arts. Playwright and performer Zeami Motokiyo (1363-1443) perfected the art, combining chanted poetry, dance, and mimetic acting techniques. The patronage of nōgaku by aristocrats began in Zeami’s time. From the early 17th century, nōgaku became the official art of the military government, undergoing a phase of canonization of the repertory and of performance techniques that have lasted up to 250 years. With the modernization of Japan in the late 19th century, nōgaku lost its aristocratic patronage and gained new sponsors from the new bourgeoisie. After the Second World War, nō troupes started performing abroad and interacting with performers of other arts.
Nō challenges genre categorization. Nō can be defined as theatre in the Western sense of the word, stemming from (or opposing) Aristotelian rules: its plays develop out of literary texts and feature characters who act within a narrative. However, many nō plays do not portray actions structured in logical cause-consequence order. Rather than staging a story, they depict a feeling. Rather than portraying chains of subordinated events, they appear as coordinations, or associations of images. While these plays center on a single happening, others may portray various events happening in the span of several years. Moreover, large portions of nō plays are dedicated to the re-telling of a past story, often fusing narration of events with description of a location, a character, or a state of mind.
Text is either recited or sung, never spoken. Performers interpret the small number of characters, exchanging lines or singing solo. In addition, a chorus sings lines that could be attributed to a character, or could complement the narration, or comment on it. A small ensemble of instruments play live on stage during most of the staging, sometimes becoming the main element of the performance. All that happens onstage is minutely choreographed. Performers embody characters that are enacted through extremely precise choreographies. Their gestures are timed to the lyrics, enhancing the images evoked by text and chant with kinetic depiction ranging from abstract to mimetic. A performer not only interprets a single character interacting with others, but can physically express anything that is described through song or recitation; for example, the performer may gesture to indicate a flock of birds crossing the evening sky, the battle cries of a ghost army, the delicate fragrance of plum blossoms, or the dark depth of the sea. Gestures also depict abstract ideas or feelings, such as the realization that past happiness will not return, resentment toward an unfaithful lover, or joy in reaching enlightenment. However, at the peak of emotion, gestures are released from words and become pure dance and music.
The stage is a raised square wooden platform with pillars at the corners holding up a heavy roof. It is connected to the backstage area with a passageway lined with three small pine trees. At the rear of the main stage is a large permanent painting of a pine tree, the only backdrop for performance. Finally, one of the most striking features of nō is the richness of nō costumes and masks set against the minimal background. A typical nō play features only a few actors draped in lavish costumes. Some of them wear refined masks capable of producing a wide range of subtle expressions. Masks and costumes express the identity of a character.
