Róisín Donohoe, transition year student at Loreto Abbey, Dalkey, on the allure of the Japanese Geisha
Love of beauty is Taste. The Creation of beauty is Art -Ralph Waldo Emerson
WHAT IS BEAUTY? It is one of life’s perpetual questions. I think a more important question is, “What is beauty to you?’ Is it nature? Is it art? Or is it something so deeply rooted in your being that you have no name for it? For me, it is the Geisha – traditional Japanese female entertainers. An odd choice perhaps, but nothing symbolises beauty to me more than their grace.
I had the same misconception about Geishas as most westerners. That is, until I saw a picture of the famous Geisha, Mineko Iwasaki. It was obvious that this woman was not a prostitute, as many people believe Geishas to be. She held herself with a regal air and a dignity that could only have been shaped by years of self-discipline and training.
And so I searched for everything that I could find about Geishas. I listened to Shamisen music (a Shamisen is a three-stringed Japanese guitar played by Geishas). I saw many of the films (including the enchanting, but historically inaccurate, Memoirs of a Geisha) and watched every Geisha dance that YouTube could offer.
The tradition has been traced as far back as the 11th century when the first Geishas were men, known as Taikomochi or “Jesters”. It was at the height of its popularity in the 1920s. Japan was wealthy and men could afford to be Dannas (patrons), an ambiguous role with which I am slightly uncomfortable.
However, it was during the second World War that the tradition’s reputation really suffered, when desperate Japanese girls, masquerading as “Geesha”, were driven into prostitution. At their peak there were 80,000 Geisha in Kyoto alone. Today, there are only 1,500.
Many Geishas, especially those from Tokyo, are now independent and have college degrees. Training can last up to eight years with three stages: testing the trainee’s resilience as a maid (Shikomi) in her Okiya (Geisha house), teaching her dance, song and conversation (Minarai) and, finally, accompanying her mentor (Maiko), the Onee-San.
Recently I attended the Festival of World Cultures in Dún Laoghaire, hoping to see a Geisha tea ceremony. Unfortunately, it was fully booked. But I still ached to see the two Geisha girls, Fukuwaka and Michina. I loitered outside the tent and was beginning to give up hope when they emerged. They seemed to inhabit a different universe; both were small in stature but radiant in appearance.
One of them caught my eye. She gave a small, shy smile and unfolded her fan in front of her chest, which I understood to be a greeting, before casually using the fan to cover the distinctive “W” nape makeup, as if to say, “that’s not something that I would like people to stare at”.
People can make up their own minds about Geishas. They are possibly one of the most difficult beings to define and perhaps that is what is so beautiful about them. I walked away in a daze. I had just seen my own vision of beauty.
