by Jann Williams

There is one woman that connects me with Kyoto like no other. We met a few years ago at a gallery soiree and have been inseparable ever since. Hailing from different eras, different countries and different cultures, this apprentice geisha and I share an enduring bond. Both of our lives have been indelibly changed by the imposing watchtowers of Nijo Castle – sentinels that have stood guard for centuries. 

Nearly 100 years ago Miki Suizan chose a Nijo watchtower as the milieu for my maiko friend. She brings his woodblock print Nijojo no tsuki (Moon on Nijo Castle) to life. My lodgings in Kyoto come with a strikingly similar watchtower view, one that is unceasingly welcoming. The setting takes my breath away. It will be marvellous to once again feel the energy of this place once international travel restrictions are lifted.

Nijo Castle was selected as one of the Noted Places of Kyoto by Suizan and the enigmatic beauty is one of his bijinga (beautiful person pictures) created in 1924. Unable to interpret her gaze, I sense that she is waiting for someone. Her muted winter clothing protects her from the cold. I have witnessed snow blanket Nijojo so know how chilly it can be. In contrast another maiko, immortalised the same year in a woodblock print by Tsuchida Bakusen, wears a vibrant summer kimono. The seasons in Kyoto are distinctive, delightful and at times demanding.

In 1930 my maiko friend travelled to Toledo with five other Suizan beauties from the ancient capital. The goal was to help promote the shin hanga (new prints) movement in the United States. In 2013 the Toledo Museum of Art revisited this watershed exhibition. The original catalogue was updated and renamed ‘Fresh Impressions.’ Given a new lease of life, the influence of the Nijo Castle beauty is spreading. I followed in her American footsteps in 1988 on a different type of grand adventure with my sister Ruth and nephew Louis.

It was in 1996 that the seeds of my relationship with Japan were sown. An international forest management meeting in Yokohama and related scientific gathering near Mt Fuji took me there the first time. My enduring memories of Japanese culture from that visit are an exquisite ceramic bowl (which came to Australia) and a taiko performance at the conference dinner. The drumming seemingly seeped into my soul. That’s a story for another time.

Twenty years later, when the Nijo watchtower view and Suizan bijinga entered my consciousness, my affinity with Japan had truly blossomed. It was becoming a home away from home. What else but destiny could have drawn us together? 

For now, the beauty and the watchtower, bathed in moonlight, adorns our bedroom wall in Tasmania. I would love to know the name of my Kyoto friend. She is a reminder of a place currently out of reach, yet one that will be waiting when it is possible to return. What a special day that will be.