How To Build a LEGO Japanese Stone Lantern

This past Saturday went I visited my local comic book shop 1,000,000 Comix in downtown Toronto with my friend Rob and my son, Hudson, I spied a magazine on the racks I had never seen before.

Something called Brick Journal, The Magazine for LEGO Enthusiasts of All Ages! Not quite adult entertainment for men, but what the hell!

My son saw me glance at it and immediately recognized it to be a magazine on LEGO. He asked to see it, so I handed it to him. Always a mistake. Once he has something in his hands, he has a habit of asking for it, and I have a habit of buying it for him. A guilty pleasure, to be sure.

Anyhow, when we got home and Hudson had long forgotten about it and was more intent in playing with the cheaply made, but highly entertaining Green Lantern ring that lights up that he got with his Happy Meal from McDonald's, I grabbed a look at the magazine.

That's when I noticed that the entire issue was devoted to: Bricks of the Rising Sun.

Seriously. What are the odds of me combining three hobbies in one fell swoop. Going to a comic book store and picking up a LEGO magazine devoted to Japan? Not to mention family and friend being involved. Bloody kismet, it is.

Anyhow, this particular magazine was the March 2012 issue, or Issue #18. The only way that could have been trult fated would have been if it was issue #47 - a strange number I see everywhere and use quite often in my writing (actually... in every piece of fiction I write - there it is. To show you how weird it is, I watched recent episodes of Touch and Alcatraz, and the #47 made important appearances. Like numbers on a guy's shirt or the number of killings et al. But that has nothing to do with this.

I found a plethora of cool articles with bear sharing with you, but the one I saw that said "Pick me", well... it's a how to build instruction manual of a Japanese Stone Lantern called an Ishidoro. I have always loved these lanterns, but I also chose it today because the only comic book I bought that day was a Green Lantern comic - plus Hudson got a Green Lantern toy with his meal.

The ishidoro first appeared around the 6th Century AD, and the flames within them were meant to represent the Buddha.

It's that whole kismet thing.

Presented for your approval is a way you, too can achieve a bit of fun, kismet, whatever... and you can do it building with LEGO.

What's the matter? Don't believe in kismet? Hey! Don't let your karma run over my dogma.

If you click on the image, it will increase in size for you to read it and follow the non-verbal directions quite easily. Remember... this is LEGO. If you don;t have a part of a color - find an alternative piece! Just have fun.  

Thanks for reading and playing along.
Cheers
Andrew Joseph
PS: Maybe I'll show you how I build MY stone lanterns for my LEGO dioramas.

How Rob Jones Visited Japan

Today, March 31st, is the birthday of my very good friend, Rob Jones.

He lives in Toronto, Canada, and has never been to Japan.

However, he has followed this blog from Day 1, and reads it out loud to his boss while his boss, Chris, apparently is working. I don't understand that, but that's okay.

Chris, by the way, played on the same soccer team as Rob and myself about 30 years ago. Yeesh. But how's that for a cool coincidence?

Rob and I have been friends since we were about 14-years-old and in Grade 10 at Burnhamthorpe Collegiate Institute (our high school) in Etobicoke. We were the two youngest kids in our grade (as were were both ahead by a year).

Not only did we play soccer on the same team, and against each other, we also coached women's soccer together for at least seven years (he a lot, lot longer, as I quit to go to Japan).

Rob, much to my chagrin, wrote to me some 68 times while I was in Japan for three years. He and my friend Doug McIntosh share the same letter writing record, actually.

And, while Doug was my writing mentor, Rob was the real reason why this blog exists.

The Awesome Origin of Andrew Joseph, Creative Writer: 

You see... it was in the month of March back in 1991, when I realized his birthday was coming up... so I told him that for the entire month of March - during each week day - I would write a letter to him for his birthday.

(Seven months earlier, I began a once a month column of comedic adventures for the local JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme entitled It's A Wonderful Rife - so yeah, I did know how to write creatively, and prior to that, I was journalist for the Toronto Star).  

But... after about four days of "How are you? I'm fine thanks.", I got bored with that structure and decided I would write him a short story.

And the rest, as they say, is his story. History, too.

From that first time I wrote a short story, I felt good about myself.... that this is what I am supposed to do... do define who I am.

So... the next envelope contained two stories... then three... sometimes more... sometimes less.... and all inspired by my need to entertain Rob for his upcoming birthday. As such, my imagination kicked into over-drive. Or it was sleep deprivation and or boredom fueled by vast quantities of alcohol... though I have only written smashed maybe three times in my life.

I have no idea what happened, but from then on... whenever I wanted to, or needed to, or had to write a short story - whether it was comedic or dramatic, I could sit down in front of a computer or pull out a notepad and a pen, and simply write. It was not work. It was pure fun.

I would never have a clue as to what my topic would be. I would just write the first thing that popped into my head - a title - and off I would go. And... even then, I would have no concept of where the story was going or how it would end, and thus, like Rob, I would be surprised at the story. But I always needed to have that title first. Even now.

Simply thinking, made it so.

I've done that from time to time - even a few weeks ago for another friend of mine. I write on top of my day job as a magazine writer, and my fun job as the writer of this blog - often twice or three times daily... but I will say, that for that one month period, I wrote stories for my friend Rob and created over 30 short stories and have always felt since then, that I have never been as creative again in my life. 

You might think I am creative with this blog... I suppose I am, I don't know... but an idea will pop into my head regarding a topic, and then I will research it - which takes away some of the spontaneity, I think.

But, for 30 days or less in March 1991... I was like Ferris Bueller... everything I touched with a pen and paper was like gold.

You can read one of those stories HERE. It's weird, but fun.

Rob had kept all of my letters and stories (ya big lug) and gave it back to me a few years ago, because I didn't always make a copy for my own records.

I first posted the story on this blog - something about the Awesome Origin of Ralph Tochigi - back on June 10, 2010. You probably missed it then, because at that time this blog only had about 700 hits for the entire month. Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife now with more hits - gets about 1,100 a day.

And it's all because of Rob Jones' birthday. You can blame him. I do.

Thanks, buddy! And Happy birthday!

Somewhere writing this at 3AM, your pal,
Andrew Joseph  
PS: I think I may have also just missed the birthday of Alex, Matthew & Takako's son. Belated happy birthday, kiddo! It's a big cake, you and Rob can share.

Hokusai Manga

Welcome to another blog featuring something from Andrew's (Hey! That's me!) closet of wondrous delights.

Today, I want to share with you a wonderful ukiyo-e (Japanese woodblock print) I own that was draw originally by Japan's most famous such artist - Hokusai Katsushika (surname first) who lived between 1760 - 1849. I say famous, mostly because he drew the famous 36 View Of Mt. Fuji series (that actually had more than 36 views) - which you can see in its entirety on THIS blog of mine via my Picasa image gallery. His iconic Great Wave Off Kanagawa is perhaps one of the most-well-known images people have of Japanese art.

You may also wish to view the Wikipedia entry on Hokusai (where you can see an image of the Hokusai wave, as I have called it for over 35 years when I first learned of it as a child) which is a good starting point for anyone who wishes to learn more about the artist. 

The ukiyo-e image above was published circa 1814 by Eira Kunya - or something pretty close to that... it's tough to read the the writing!

It's a piece from a manga (a so-called comic book) he produced showing various styles of bridges.

In 1811, at the age of 51, Hokusai changed his name to Taito and entered the period in which he created the Hokusai Manga and various etehon (art manuals). These etehon, beginning in 1812 with Quick Lessons in Simplified Drawing, served as a convenient way to make money and attract more students. The first book of Hokusai's manga is a collection of sketches or caricatures that influenced the modern form of comics known by the same name (manga) and was published in 1814.

Together, his 12 volumes of manga published before 1820 and three more published posthumously include thousands of drawings of animals, religious figures, and everyday people. They often have humorous overtones, and were very popular at the time.

The Hokusai Manga (北斎漫画, "Hokusai's Sketches") is a collection of sketches of various subjects, including landscapes, flora and fauna, everyday life and the supernatural.

The word manga in the title does not refer to the contemporary story-telling manga (comic book), as the sketches in the work are not connected to each other.

The drawings inside are block-printed in three colors (black, gray and pale flesh). 

The image above is from Volume 1 of the Hokusai Manga, page 64, I believe. It was published in 1814.

I bought it in 1992 when a traveling salesman of fine art came by Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan.

I waited until the crush of teachers had a glance—rolling their collective eyes at the prohibitive cost of purchasing such items... and then I moved in. I had been collecting ukiyo-e since I entered my first antique and art store in the country back in late 1990.

My mother and I were always trying to learn about antique furnishings back in Canada, but I always preferred art. My father tolerated our exposure to antiques realizing that if we were rich we would be considered eccentric rather than poor and crazy. But I know what I like, and I like art - specifically paintings, but also artistic things... things that it seems we no longer take the time to do. Has anyone created a gargoyle on a building lately? Can anyone still carve one with the same skill as the artisans of the past? Regardless... I like art.


And that's what I wanted to see in this guy's collection. Unfortunately, he had none of the typical ukiyo-e art.

And then I spotted the image above. It was framed (in what I still have it in now), but I had him remove it from the frame so I could better examine it.

Visually, I could tell immediately that this was no modern copy. I only had 12 lessons from the once-a-month trips I made to an antique and art dealer I buy from in Nikko-shi, Tochigi-ken... but when it comes to my hobbies (my hobby is hobbies), I am a fast learner... at least learning how to discern a copy from a print, and modern prints from original prints. I knew I would never, ever get my hands on an original piece of ukiyo-e art (the actual paintings).

But this... I knew as soon as I laid eyes upon it that I had seen the art style before. Once or twice in the hidden upper levels of Takamoto's shoppe that he allowed me to sit in by myself for hours as I poured over print after print of his voluminous collection. It was definitely Hokusai - and I queried the seller as much to confirm my suspicion.

His jaw dropped as he said I was correct. The teachers in the teacher's lounge suddenly got quiet as they slowly crowded around the seller and the gaijin (me, the foreigner). He asked how I knew it was Hokusai's work. When I said that I recognized the way he drew the bridge second from the top as something similar to one of the 36 Views Of Mt. Fuji, he smiled and then bowed deeply—either showing great respect for my knowledge or thanking the gods he had found a sucker (a buyer).

As an aside, I have been seriously collecting comic books since I was 10, and have a decent enough eye in discerning the art styles of a plethora of artists. And, no... I barely have the skill to draw a stick-figure.

The art seller told me that the image of the bridges was a 'How-To' drawing on the various way a Japanese bridge could look after construction. It sounded correct, but the hodgepodge placement of bridges was not pretty as a picture like a standard ukiyo-e.... then again, I was never going to be able to afford an original woodblock... they were in the 10s of thousands of dollars... and this was only ¥7,500 (which at the time was about US$75 - and in 2012 is now $90).  

Why so cheap? Because it wasn't your standard ukiyo-e. Because it wasn't a vista or a portrait.  

Still... this was my one and only chance to own an original Hokusai woodblock. So I bought it.

What's it worth? Who knows... I've seen two-pagers of a single scene published some 40 years later going for $300. This woodblock of mine is not a scene - its a single page, but is far older.

I like bridges. I like architecture. I like my 198-year-old piece of art by one of Japan's greatest, if not most famous ukiyo-e artist. I hope you do, too.

Cheers
Andrew Joseph