Drawing a Blank
What do you mean leave it blank?” I incredulously asked my art teacher as we sat in the grounds of a tranquil temple outside Tokyo.
I was sketching a garden of spider lilies and stone statues. Having finished the main subjects, I wanted to fill the rest of the page with clouds, birds, trees and more. Why stop when I had so many colors with which to work?
“There’s no need to fill all the space,” my teacher urged me. “Leave something for the imagination.”
She was referring to the Japanese aesthetic of ma, or “negative space.” Much of Japanese culture values emptiness, restraint and nuance. These are elusive characteristics amid the sensory bombardment of Tokyo.
In my world, culture, style and language are usually straightforward and saturated. Messages are clearly spelled out—often in all caps and exclamation points (OMG!).
After so many years living in Japan, magic happened when this concept of negative space finally clicked for me. Simplicity can be profound. Blank space can be rewarding. Emptiness drives home the message. I began to see ma nearly everywhere.
In contrast to the canvases of robust colors found in a typical Western art collection, the restrained elegance of many nihonga pieces, such as those at the Yamatane Museum of Art in Tokyo, drew me closer. Whereas the subject might occupy a tiny area of a scroll or screen, the blank space completes the scene. Not only does the emptiness draw my eye to the focal point, it compels me to contemplate.
I also became fascinated by the deceivingly “simple” arrangements of ikebana, with the art form’s asymmetry and empty spaces brilliantly accentuating just a few flowers.
Even after so many years, I haven’t tired of observing how people dress while commuting on the train or walking by the Meguro River. In contrast to the Instagram feeds of Western fashion icons, filled with flash, bling and exposed skin, Tokyoites wear the plainest of neutral clothes from head to toe and rarely don patterns or pops of color.
Yet, despite these blank palettes, the combinations stand out somehow—the turned-up cuff, a structured shoulder, the fall of impossibly large pants, a subtle but clever message on an oversized sweatshirt. This nuanced sartorial style requires more intention and magically transforms the plain and simple into the architectural and inspired.
In the West, there's hardly any nuance in our “in-your-face” approach to communication. My emphatic, let-me-spell-this-out-for-you way is no different, and I’m full of opinions and ideas.
Imagine my first meeting with a room of Japanese colleagues. After my energetic monologue, I took a breath and had the presence of mind to shut up because everyone else had fallen quiet. I noticed a tilt of a head, a downward glance and slightly blank looks. There it was. The emptiness. I called on my rusty skills of restraint and intuition as I leaned into the polite silence to glean its meaning.
Words: Risa Dimacali
Illustration: Tania Vicedo
