Mari Omori. Photograph by Chris Akin. |
Born
and raised in Japan, Mari Omori is an artist, curator, and professor of art at
Lone Star College-Kingwood near Houston, Texas. She has explored tea as an art
medium since 1997. I was intrigued to learn about Ms. Omori’s relationship with
tea and reason for using it in her art, so I have corresponded with her over
these past several weeks.
Omori, Mari, Katachi: Shape, tea stain, teabag envelope archival paste on paper, 2014. Photograph by Chris Akin. |
Omori, Mari, Tea with Our Mothers, 2009-2011. |
Omori, Mari, Tea with Our Mothers, 2009-2011. |
Tell me a bit about your journey
with tea which began with your early years in Japan and has continued through
these many years you have spent in the United States.
I
was raised in post War II Japan where drinking tea was a daily custom. Tea was
served at least four to five times a day, in the morning, at 10am, lunchtime,
at 3pm, and with dinner. There were
several kinds of teas produced and consumed in Japan; Matcha (powdered tea),
Sencha (green tea), Hojicha (roasted), Bancha, Genmaicha, Kukicha etc.
One
of my most interesting memories of my paternal grandmother was that she dropped
a piece of Umeboshi (pickled plum) into her teacup every morning and consumed
both the umeboshi and the tea! She lived until 93, thus there might have been a
benefit in her longevity.
During
high school time, I was urged to take tea ceremony lessons every week, though I
was less than enthusiastic. Learning to
master traditional tea ceremony was almost required if you were a woman at that
time. The lessons were extremely formal. If I missed one step, the tea could
not be served properly. Sitting on the tatami mat with both legs folded was excruciatingly
painful. Then I made a note of the tea masters’ skin one day. Their cheeks and
hands were smooth and glowing like a baby’s. So, I tried not to miss each
lesson. Time passed. Much tea was served
and consumed.
When
I came to the US to learn English as a second language, I was introduced to sun
made tea by my host, Mrs. White. Every morning, Mrs. White put two teabags in a
large glass jar filled with water and placed it in the California sun. During
my stay, the hot tea custom was forgotten, although briefly.
The
following years were focused on raising a family and continuing my education.
After earning an MFA from UCLA, I taught at universities until my family and I moved
to Houston, TX in 1992!
As
I settled into life in the southern part of the country, many explorations were
made in my work as well. I was looking
back and thinking my upbringing, Japanese aesthetics, and my authentic self. Perhaps I longed for the comfort of tea and familiar
rhythms of life that tea drinking symbolized.
One
day, a gallerist visited my studio. I am usually well prepared for serving
fresh tea. However, not that day. With no fresh Sencha to serve, my only choice
was to serve tea with a teabag. After the guest departed, I saved the teabag on
a plate for a day. The following day I noticed the water mark patterns that appeared
on the teabag. Opening the bag I saw magical
stain marks made by the essence of tea and the passage of time. A serious exploration
of tea had begun. I started using all the components of a teabag; the tea
container, string, paper tag, the tea stain, even the fragrance.
Material Witness. Photograph by Christina Omori. |
The
largest work I produced at that time was inspired by memories of my father.
Over 3,000 family sized teabags were brewed, dried, opened, and pressed. Each
tea stained paper was collaged on Arches paper. I typed the writings of my
father over these. The resulting room-sized installation entitled Material Witness
was exhibited at Texas State University San Marcos Art Gallery in 2006.
Imagine that we are in your home.
The water is getting hot and you are preparing your favorite tea. What sort of
“tea equipment” will you use and what tea are we about to drink?
Knowing
your history with tea has been long, I would serve you Matcha, the powdered
green tea. To make a less formal tea ceremony, I would prepare a tea bowl
(Chawan), tea chest (Natsume), tea spoon (Chashaku), a napkin (kaishi) with a
dry sweet, all on a tray.
Photograph provided by Mari Omori. |
The
design and shape of tea utensils depend on the season, time of day, and kind of
tea being served. The tea bowl shape and surface decorations reflect seasons.
The wall of tea bowls tends to be thick for cooler seasons. In March, the glaze or surface design of of
the tea bowl may have spring blossoms. The season can be also reflected on the
dry sweets you take before drinking the tea. The essence of such tea sharing
can be summed up this way, ‘Ichigo Ichie’, meaning one moment, one meeting, as
if there will never be a moment like it in life.
What are your daily tea habits or
rituals?
The
most enjoyable tea is the first tea of the day. I am an early riser at 5 AM. To start the day with a cup of Sencha green
tea is a special treat! This refreshing tea and its residual effects seem to last
for the rest of the day.
Between
my classes, I occasionally enjoy ginger tea to stimulate my senses and soothe
my throat. I am known by my students as a
constant speaker!
You are a woman of many talents. In
addition to being an artist you are a professor of art. How does your love of
tea intertwine with your art making and teaching?
Interesting
question! I never thought about how my
love of tea intertwines with teaching. But, yes to intertwining with making art.
I admire the inventive minds behind
those teabag designs. The humble teabag is an excellent example of “form follows
function.”
I
think that drinking tea may contribute to good health and help clear one’s mind.
Drinking tea together can bring instructors and learners closer and encourage thinking
of others, even as we share that moment together, a moment that is never to be
repeated in life.
Tea
and teaching have another thing in common. The word “teaching” has tea in it!
Teaching begins with tea.
Omori, Mari, Tea House, 2004. |
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