A Simple Treasure
A recent overseas trip took Jim McCloskey to a place he’s wanted to see for more than 20 years – basically ever since he worked on a WaterShapes article by Douglas Roth more than two decades ago on the wonders of the Japanese garden known as Katsura Rikyu.
By Jim McCloskey
I can’t say I’ve ever had a bucket list, but one of the places I’ve long wanted to see for myself is Katsura Rikyu, the garden in Kyoto that Douglas M. Roth wrote so eloquently about in WaterShapes back in January 2002.
This archetypal Japanese garden becomes, through his article, much more than a lovely pondscape: He presents it on a grand scale as a profound, global treasure, one that triggers his detailed reflections on what makes the place so achingly beautiful, so influential and such an emotional experience.
In late April this year, my own opportunity to see Katsura Rikyu finally arrived during a visit to Japan, and let’s just say it was everything Mr. Roth portrayed. In fact, he does such a good job of capturing its essence that I’ll leave the history and physical description of the place to his article (linked below).
The meticulous handiwork of generations of gardeners can be seen throughout Katsura Rikyu. It’s not as “naturalistic” as it might seem at first – in fact, you see little signs of human intervention almost everywhere you look – but it’s still a joy to revel in the profound, nature-driven harmony and grace of the space they’ve created.
For me, the most striking impression I drew from my own time in the garden was just how artificial it all was – not in the sense of “fake,” of course, but in the fact that every single detail of Katsura Rikyu revealed the artful hands of its designers and the generations of master gardeners who have maintained its visual splendor for the past 400 years.
Indeed, there’s little sense of “natural” here: It’s fairly plain to see that each hillock, every stone, every tree and shrub, each lantern, every stretch of shoreline has been deliberately, intentionally and purposefully conceived, placed and groomed to create a progressive, enveloping and episodic experience of harmony, serenity and visual perfection.
Among all of the techniques used to control perspectives as guests move around the pond, perhaps the most effective is artful layering. Plantings and rising trails, for example, will often obscure key visuals until you reach crucial spots along the path where patience is rewarded with the presentation of broader views.
The sheer mastery reveals itself at each turn of the path, where you’re greeted by vistas entirely new and unexpected despite the fact that all you’re really doing is walking up and down around the perimeter of a not-particularly-large pond.
There’s conscious manipulation at work here, in other words, but it’s so graceful, so generous, so deeply rewarding that you don’t mind playing along.
It’s also worth mentioning that the garden I saw a few weeks ago is virtually unchanged from what you see in Mr. Roth’s photographs taken decades before I took my own. I know that, like any garden, Katsura Rikyu changes season to season and day by day.
The multiple teahouses spaced along the path are architecturally stunning, offering views to be enjoyed in approaching them that are redoubled by pleasure once you reach them and have the opportunity to take in the views flowing down toward the pond – especially as seen through their strategically placed windows.
What makes this place so amazing is the tradition-bound discipline it embodies. Again, it’s a remarkable expression of craft, an enduring testimonial to a long-ago vision that persists and continues to inspire in 2025 and, I get the impression, will do so well into the future.
Just go. It’s a long trip to Kyoto, but it’s worth every mile.
To reread Douglas M. Roth’s testimonial to the glories of Katsura Rikyu, click here.
Jim McCloskey launched WaterShapes in February 1999 and stayed with it until he retired in March 2020. His trip to Japan compelled him to sit at a computer keyboard for the first time in more than five years; he begs pardon for the rust.