Here we are on the first Monday of a new year. 2011. Beginnings like this, similar in many ways to birthdays, are a common place to make resolutions for change. I have come to realize after many years of making resolutions that unless the change was already underway a mere date is not sufficient for bringing about personal transformation. I prefer to note trajectories.
One thing a new year allows is an exploration of novelty through the familiar. By taking note, we make the known and familiar new again and celebrate change even if there is no distinct change to be found. A grand social masquerade of sorts. We all agree that this is a new beginning starting now and allow ourselves to move forwards from there. These markers allow us useful places to take stock of both where we are and where we are headed.
Over the holidays, at a white elephant party, I came away with a little book. This book contained an introduction to the game of Go and a small Go set to start learning. I have long wanted to learn the game yet never got around to learning how. Funny enough, at my first ever white elephant party years ago I opened a game of Go but had it stolen from me and was unable to retrieve it from the other players. A dozen or so years later and I finally win that game and begin my exploration of a subject long mysterious to me.
While the game in itself is wholly new to me, it bears some interesting connections to many threads running through my life. It symbolizes for me, in many ways, the idea of the new year as an exploration of novelty through the familiar.
As a child, from roughly the ages of seven to seventeen, I studied the martial art Aikido. The principles of Aikido, Keep One Point, Weight on the Underside, Relax Completely, and Extend Ki, translate perfectly to the game of Go. Unlike Chess, a game I learned as a child and lost mercilessly to my father until my tweens when I started winning, Go has no simple strategy like “capture the King.” Rather Go is about influence. One extends one’s influence across the board just as one extends Ki in a room.
Influence is a give and take. To gain this influence, to Extend Ki, one must be centered, on firm footing, and relaxed. Being too aggressive in Go can actually be a bad thing. Without maintaining balance, or Keeping One Point, one risks a lopsided influence. A top heavy influence that might easily be toppled. One wants to maintain the initiative, which is about making the right move to guide the action, more than a series of attacks.
The study of Aikido early in life also gave me a deep appreciation for Japanese aesthetics. The dojo is a spare room, but carefully ordered. White walls, some simple black scrollwork, tatami mats on the floor, and a simple arrangement of flowers on the small black altar. This harmonious minimalism is something I deeply admire in the realm of art. My favorite shows to work on tend to be minimalistic works. Even when the overall work itself is not, when a minimalistic approach to the lighting is called for, I deeply enjoy it.
The game of Go is incredibly simple in terms of rules of play. There are, perhaps, five rules to the game. With only one kind of piece to play, it is far simpler to learn than Chess which has six different kinds of pieces, four of which have variations in movement. Yet, this simplicity of structure does not mean simplicity in game play. The most advanced computer simulations of Go compare to a weak or moderate amateur, versus chess where the game has nearly been solved by machine computing.
While Chess can be cold and brutal, Go has a gracious quality that I find refreshing. The system of handicaps is as much about mutual enjoyment as it is about leveling the playing field. Winning too easily stops being fun. So a simple system is put in place to increase overall enjoyment. Again we see a simple system which makes for a deeply satisfying and complex experience.
The visual aesthetics, like the aesthetics of the gameplay, are minimalist, yet surprisingly complex. Black, white, and polished wood. The black pieces, traditionally, are made slightly larger than the white such that the visual illusion which makes the white pieces appear larger is compensated for. This level of detail and harmony is, in my opinion, true beauty. Combining my background in black and white photography with my love of grey it would be no wonder that an object with this kind of visual design would appeal to me so strongly. As the game is played, the most wonderful patterns emerge on the board.
Of direct relevance to lighting design, the closest I can come is that my first Off-Broadway play was set in modern day Japan. At a subtler level the game strategy is very much like the role of the lighting designer. The proper design is one that finds harmonious balance between the many and competing needs of the production. From basic visibility, to enhancing other design elements, to flashy effects, to simple recreations of nature, the designer must stay relaxed, grounded in the work in front of them, and extend their eye to solve problems and enhance moments. Light can not be forced it must be coaxed. In the same way Go is more about following the flow of the pieces and the natural patterns of movement than it is about forcing the issue.
In the end, it may not be wholly new, and like many a resolution may not be maintained far into the year, learning Go has given me a new lens through which I can explore old ideas. It should serve me in good stead so long as I remember to Keep One Point, Weight on the Underside, Relax Completely, and Extend Ki.
