In many popular writings that date from initial decades of twentieth century, and also in recent scholarly studies, aesthetics-insofar as we can speak sweepingly of a complicated, multidimensional, and dynamic historical phenomenon-is characterized with a set of adjectives whose present linguistic entrenchment is clearly evident. Specifically we read that traditional Japanese aesthetics is an aesthetics of imperfection, insufficiency, incompleteness, asymmetry, and irregularity, not to mention perishability, suggestiveness, and simplicity.1 Given this collection of qualities, we are presented with a matching set of paradigmatic Japanese aesthetic experiences and objects, both as illustrations and as legitimations of this close-to-standard portrait. Examples include suggestive moon covered by drifting clouds, irregularly formed ceramics of ceremonial teacups, simple and asymmetrical arrangement of unpolished rocks in dry landscape garden, bold and dashing monochromatic strokes typical of Zen calligraphy, transient cherry blossoms, serene and cloud-capped mountain summits, lonely thatched huts, sunsets in foggy twilight, call of a crane that breaks through silence, and light autumn rain that drizzles upon a secluded pond. Upon further reflection, it becomes noticeable that some familiar Japanese aesthetic objects do not easily conform to this standard picture, and this raises doubts about typical characterization of Japanese aesthetics. The quintessentially Japanese shoji screens and tatami mats, for instance, are uniformly rectangular rather than irregular in form. They are, moreover, neither asymmetrical, nor imperfect, nor incomplete, nor insufficient. How then, can these perfectly regular screens and mats-items crucial to aesthetics of Japanese domestic architecture-fit neatly into usually encountered portrait of traditional Japanese aesthetics, if it is said to be fundamentally the worship of imperfection?2 Or similarly if imperfection is
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