When I first started graduate research, I ran into a certain amount of "concern" (not strong enough to be outright criticism) that my chosen subject was too "traditional" to be worthwhile. Americans have this idea that "tradition" is analogous to "hidebound," or even "dead." Whenever a tradition is shown to contain some flexibility, the counter argument is that it is therefore no longer a tradition or perhaps (one of my favorite tropes) no longer "authentic."
I have spent the last two weeks or so catching up on some reading - I am about 2 years behind on the one or two actual, hard-copy journals that I subscribe to that in fact still exist. One article, by a Japanese grad student, outlined a traditional method for learning the noh flute. The method reminded me very much of koryu budo practice. The motifs for flute-playing have been organized and given names in the Japanese syllabary (ka ki ku ke ko and so on). These motifs must be learned by direct transmission from master to student. Once the student memorizes them, she can play pieces that are organized according to the different motifs, add improvisations (either learned informally from hearing the master's playing, or, eventually, created by the player herself) and used for either accompanying the noh performer or for stand-alone pieces that can be played in a recital. The motifs can also be used as a shorthand by the flute player to coordinate with drummers who are familiar with them, and these little meetings before a performance can be used in place of an actual rehearsal. Pretty cool stuff.
Several things struck me about her article. Firstly, that the idea that improvisation was expected, and is considered part of the tradition, though the improvisations have to suit the mood of the piece (she uses an example of a lively dance, in which her teacher used a great deal of embellishment, to a more somber piece that was played relatively straightforwardly). Secondly, that memorizing the motifs allowed for better collaboration among the musicians in the hayashi (in this case, the musical ensemble) because it served as a shorthand communication to enable them to work together in performance.
Recently, one of my colleagues and I had an email chat regarding the "point" of learning kata (in terms of technique, not philosophy). Were they an end in themselves, or for something else? My colleague has always been of the opinion that kata are theoretical situations that teach techniques, but are not an end in themselves. He noted that US Marines now use kata-type learning for some fighting techiques, but that no Marine would ever assume the kata is going to present itself in combat. Everyone understands that the techniques being taught are meant to be used in other situations. In other words, the techniques must be adapted for improvisation if they are to be effective.
This is the thinking for budo sports like kendo, where techiques are presented but the participants improvise in putting them to use, but with a crucial difference - there are no "kata" for kendo players (the Kendo-no-Kata are bokuto techiques unrelated to actual kendo). Atarashii Naginata does have kata, though they are taught alongside the kihon and in my brief time of practice never seemed to be pathways to actual matches in the way the kihon was.
Of course, we are not learning sword or jo kata so that we can go out and use the techniques in actual encounters. At least, not anymore; but my colleague had a point that originally weapons kata were developed as safe ways to learn actual (sometimes deadly) techniques that were used in that way. After memorizing the techniques in kata, just like learning the motifs of the noh flute, the students were expected to improvise, or the kata were essentially useless. Crucially, if the techniques taught in the kata were ineffective, the kata would be useless in that case as well.
Even though we do not learn koryu budo anymore to take part in actual personal combat, it is good to keep in mind the improvisational character of the traditions we labor to perfect. In actual, modern practice, perhaps it is the philosophical aspect that is the improvisation now. What are the lessons we take from our practices, and how do we use them in our actual lives?
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