The Twelve Months of Love

What We have in these erotic puzzle prints is the work of an American of Finnish origin who has lived and studied with the masters of the wood-block print in Japan the past seven years and who, needless to say, is thoroughly imbued with the Japanese spirit. An important aspect of these prints is the flower design of the kimono that varies with the months. What is significantly missing are the genitalia of the participants in this love game. Also concealed are the faces of the man and the woman, thus leaving the viewer to imagine for himself the nature and extent of the emotional drama that takes place.

Though I understand that many of the ancient print makers including such masters as Hiroshige and Utamaro, often hid from view the genitalia of their subjects, to some this approach may come as a surprise. For most Westerners, the Shunga prints, as they are called, are better known for the fantastic exaggerations of the sex organs, particularly the male's, as well as for the variety of bewildering acrobatic positions assumed during coitus.

As a people, the Japanese are--to the Western mind, at least--full of contradiction, fantasy, ambiguity, secrecy and other qualities that perplex and confound as well as intrigue us. Lovers of simplicity, they seem to delight in creating provocative and complicated intricacies. When it comes to their sex life, we of the West are often at a loss to interpret their behavior. The elements of reserve, modesty, control, discipline, curiosity and passion are so intermingled that to attempt describe and explain them defeats us.

It has been said by some that the sliding paper doors that; separate room from room account for much of the restraints and control involved in their lovemaking; in other words, the lack of privacy. Others maintain that it is their training, their skill in the art of making love, that explains so much. One thinks more particularly of the woman's role, of her seeming passivity, her complete subjection to the male. It is said of the Japanese woman that she not only knows how to give her partner the utmost pleasure and satisfaction but that she herself knows how to obtain more pleasure and satisfaction than her Western counterpart. Yet when we do catch a glimpse of her face in the erotic prints, it seems devoid of expression. Nor do we see her pictured as writhing in ecstasy or agony. Almost never do we see her naked, though under her beautiful kimono she is, of course, quite naked. Always we are obliged to wrestle with the kimono, which is an aesthetic delight though a tantalizing one. Her passion, we are told, is revealed by the blush that spreads from bosom to brow, or by the tightly curled toes. As for the male, what seemingly excites him most, what brings him to full erection, is the sight of the nape of the neck, which he bites in the same fashion as does the stallion.

In these prints, we see (text concluded on page 119) nothing of all this. We see only the back of the man, envelope? in his elegant kimono, and portions of the couple's arms and leg? The setting is simple and austere, with special emphasis on beauty of line and purity of color. What a contrast to European erotic art, with its clutter of wood nymphs, creatures of the wile gods and goddesses, antique ruins, jungle growths and other paraphernalia of cosmic or terrestrial derivation!

One wonders sometimes what is the ideal setting, the most inspiring ambiance for making love. Is it the bedroom, with plush rose-colored walls and mirrors everywhere, or is it the icy igloo, soundproof, weatherproof, isolated from the world, in which the lovers lie naked and warm between thick bearskins? Or is it the parked car in a vacant lot, with the radio turned on full blast? Could it be that with all the artistry and skill, all the aesthetic surroundings that civilized man has introduced to render this simple act more enjoyable, he has lost what any mongrels in the street enjoy when helplessly coupled, one pulling north and the other south, as they wait patiently for someone in the crowd to throw a pail of cold water over them?

One of the strange lacunae in the relations between Japanese; who are courting each other is that rarely pronounced phrase! "I love you." Naturally, there are a thousand ways of conveying the idea, but the words themselves are never uttered until very: late in the game. Certainly, the Japanese woman would never dream of saying to her lover: "Sock it to me!" Nor would the man think of saying, as does Aretino in the opening line of one of his sonnets: "Let's Luck!"

In a letter of instructions on how to behave as a married' woman, which Lady Nogi wrote for her niece before departing this world, there is sage advice on the most intimate details connected with sexual conduct between husband and wife. One of them is that after finishing intercourse, the wife,: when wiping herself with paper towel, should take care lest the? Japer crackle, for this would be offensive to the ear of her consort. The letter, incidentally, is to my mind the most wonderful recipe for successful marital relations that I have ever read. The only trouble with it is that to live it out in the manner prescribed, the man would have to be king and the woman, queen, king and queen in the true sense--and where are such individuals to be found today? If they exist at all, I feel certain they are more likely to be found in Japan than in any other country.

This said, it still remains a mystery--or a puzzle, if you like--that a people who have lived for centuries in a state of turmoil, internecine strife, poverty and desperation, can exhibit such delicacy, such tenderness, such beauty and simplicity in their love life. One feels that it is a triumph on the part of the Japanese woman, whom every distinguished visitor to Japan has praised from earliest times. And so I say, let us keep her-' clothed in the mystery that enshrouds her.