Reading a karesansui in western Tokyo
In a world that moves quickly and demands constant answers, slowing down can feel almost radical. This series explores the layers of life in Tama: its landscapes, historical accumulated memories, and awakened sensibilities that words cannot quite reach. An intellectual detour that, with luck, changes how the everyday looks. Our guide is Junichiro Ozawa: director of the Gyokudo Art Museum and chairman of Ozawa Sake Brewery, a man whose reflections carry not just knowledge, but the weight of long experience.
My credentials here are circumstantial. I run the Gyokudo Art Museum, whose garden is consistently ranked among Japan’s finest, at least according to American horticultural circles. Make of that what you will.
Japanese gardens are often described as representations of nature. But they are not imitations. They are carefully composed interpretations: an attempt to give form to something beyond surface beauty. The name says it plainly. The name, at least, leaves little room for doubt.
In Japan, nature has long been more than scenery. It is something to be engaged with, contemplated, and, at times, reconstructed. A garden becomes less a space to look at and more a space to enter, physically and otherwise.
We tend to live by what might be called human time: structured, measured, purposeful. A Japanese garden follows a different rhythm. Natural time. It moves without urgency, like an onsen for the mind. Face it and feel something loosen. Let it surround you and something heals. It may be wise not to dwell too much on the fact that this apparently natural space is meticulously designed. The experience works better when that contradiction is left undisturbed.
The garden at the Gyokudo Art Museum is a karesansui (dry landscape). White gravel, a handful of stones, minimal greenery. No flowers. It may read as austere at first glance. But there is a clarity to it. What remains once the decorative has been stripped away is something close to solitude. Not cold or unwelcoming, but entirely self-contained. It receives visitors rather than performing for them.
Japanese gardens are entered, not observed.
I am writing this now, seated in the garden. Around me, only my own small patch of time seems to follow the human clock. Everything else moves differently. A contradiction, of course. But without it, this piece would not exist.
Junichiro Ozawa, Director of the Gyokudo Art Museum and Chairman of Ozawa Sake Brewery
Born in Sawai, Ome City, Junichiro is the 22nd-generation head of Ozawa Sake Brewery, founded in 1702. He succeeded his father as president in 1992 and has served as chairman since 2018. The family’s mountain forests, carefully preserved for generations, nurture the pristine waters of the Tama River—the very source of their renowned sake. In addition to sake brewing, the Ozawa family is deeply committed to preserving the cultural and economic heritage of the region. He is also the great-grandson of the celebrated Gyokudo Kawai, a master of Nihonga, or traditional Japanese painting, and serves as director of the Gyokudo Art Museum, where he personally leads guided tours through the artist’s world.
About Ome
Once home to nearly 800 weavers and dyers, Ome flourished in its rich natural surroundings, cultivating a deep tradition of craftsmanship, sake brewing, and the arts. Much like indigo fabric that deepens with each layer of dye, the town’s cultural heritage has grown ever richer over time. At the heart of this legacy stands Yoshino Baigo, a massive treasured plum blossom grove where each spring, thousands of trees blanket the hillsides in delicate shades of pink and white. This grove was lovingly restored by the local community to symbolize enduring beauty and to renew and revive a spirit that lives on.
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