Musings on kinbaku appreciation, art, crafts, and beauty in ropes

Photo by Dolph Vex.

Apart from being a rope model I am also a kinbaku appreciator. Or rather, I am on a path of becoming one as I don’t think I have obtained this skill yet. Just as with any skill, understanding and enjoying kinbaku requires effort and dedication. And the more work you put into it, the more subtle pleasures you will be able to derive from it. 

The path to becoming a kinbaku appreciator is not only through knowledge, even though knowing the history, the important masters and their styles and how they evolved adds to one’s experiences. But what I think is even more important than knowledge is a practice of differentiating between what you find beautiful and what you don’t. In an amazing book by a Japanese pottery master, Soetsu Yanagi, “The Unknown Craftsman”* he says about appreciating beauty: “First, put aside the desire to judge immediately; acquire the habit of just looking. Second, do not treat the object as an object for the intellect. Third, just be ready to perceive, passively, without interposing yourself.” In that way you learn how to ‘feel’ beauty instead of trying to rationalise it. Similar ideas were also prominent in other books on traditional Japanese aesthetics**, *** that I’ve read and in my view they are strongly related to the ideas of living itself being an art that comes from Zen Buddhism and that are very close to my heart. 

The relationship between the artist and the viewer in traditional Japanese arts is usually more equal than in the West. For the Japanese thinkers, an audience perceiving an art piece does not just passively receive what the artist has to show but rather actively co-creates the experience. The audience is an intrinsic part of the work of art they perceive. In the words of Kakuzo Okakura**: “The sympathetic communion of minds necessary for art appreciation must be based on mutual concession. The spectator must cultivate the proper attitude for receiving the message, as the artist must know how to impart it.” In that spirit I watch kinbaku and I train my senses to perceive more of its nuances. Also, I observe what is appreciated by people who are more knowledgeable than I am to learn to feel what makes it such. Not to parrot or rationally understand them but to feel what they feel when they look at something beautiful. I am not saying that you *need* to look at kinbaku in Japanese way in order to appreciate it fully. I am inspired by it because I find these ideas appealing also outside of the kinbaku setting, practising Zen Buddhism and learning about it’s philosophy. Applying it to my passion is a natural consequence. 

I’ve been talking about art the entire time so far but should we even call kinbaku an art? 

I think ‘yes’ and ‘no’ depending on how we want to look at it. In “The Unknown Craftsman” Yanagi makes a distinction between art and crafts. He says that art is something to look at, something torn away from everyday life, while crafts create things for everyday use, such as clothes, furniture and pottery. In light of these definitions kinbaku to me is a craft. It is a skill of using ropes in order to make people suffer, for erotic pleasure, or other purposes that one would use bondage for. It has an aim, it is not done for the sake of tying only. Or rather, it can be but the beauty of it comes from its use. Yanagi says that the beauty in crafts is the “beauty that is identified with use. It is beauty born of use. Apart from use there is no beauty of craft. Therefore, things made that do not stand up to use or that ignore utility can barely be expected to contain this kind of beauty.” He also talks about the fact that “individualistic beauty”, which is created by artists is lower than the beauty that transcends the individual, which you find in crafts. 

To me, even the most beautiful rope work done only for the sake of showcasing the skill of the rigger or the model lacks that “something”, that naturalness which would be there if it was created to be used. That is also, I believe, why the works of Norio Sugiura are so powerful. He is using rope and his subjects for something more than simply tying a shape, and he suggests that something in his photography. Even though his pictures are full of rope, they are never about the rope. And they are also never about the model. They are about creating an image that will satisfy perverted onlooker’s dark fantasies. They are about telling a story that will excite our imagination. They are using rope in such a way that they make one think about what will happen next and what has happened before. The beauty of rope in them is a necessary element but not a goal by itself. And that is what I often miss in other rope photographs or rope performances. Very often they are about showcasing beautiful pieces of rope work but not about “using” what the rigger has just created and because of that they end up being empty. By using I mean - torturing the model, using them for their pleasure, or even simply enjoying their work; not tying in order to stroke their or their model’s ego but in order to put a human being in a position of distress and helplessness because it is something they enjoy seeing. 

Of course, rope bondage can (and does) have other purposes than putting someone in distress or using them for rigger’s pleasure but to me those can often be artificial and not logical, like using a knife to caress your lover. Sure, if you do it very delicately, it might even be pleasurable. But why use a tool for a purpose it was not created for and discard its inherent properties? To me, tying people up for purposes other than mentioned before lacks the “naturalness” that in traditional Japanese arts defines things that are beautiful. It’s a matter of taste. I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with using rope to worship the model, to give them love or appreciation, or to show off your skills, it’s just that I don’t find it beautiful. To me, the whole point of tying someone up (also when it is done for their pleasure) is about tearing something out of them, cracking up their shiny surfaces, getting under their skin (which might also be a kind of worship or appreciation, I admit). And if I don’t see rope being used for that, I just can’t see the beauty in it in the meaning of ‘beautiful kinbaku’. I can still find it interesting and even derive some aesthetic pleasure from it but it will not have the depth I am looking for. Again, as master Yanagi says, “The deepest beauty is suggestive of infinite potentiality rather than being merely explanatory. (...) All works of art, it may be said, are more beautiful when they suggest something beyond themselves than when they end up being merely what they are.” To me in kinbaku, that beautiful something is what you tear out of the model against their will, and what seeing that does to the onlooker. 

Coming back to the topic of art vs. craft, in my opinion a complex craft elevated to such perfection as kinbaku sometimes is, can be called art. Art, to me, is a form that transcends its use. Something that makes me think and feel beyond what I am looking at. That transforms me into a different realm, that moves me. I think that kinbaku has all these components when performed skilfully (both in terms of skills of the rigger and of the model). But it is a different kind of art. It is not an individualistic art in which the creator is showing off themselves or trying to tell us something. It is an art just because of the sheer amount of skill and sophistication that goes into performing it but it is up to the audience to recognise it. It is art because it elevates something as lowly as torture and sexual exploitation to a spectacle that you can’t take your eyes away from. This is what makes it ‘bigger than life’, which to me is what art is about. 

Apart from the high-level beauty coming from use, there is also a more fine level of beauty in kinbaku, the beauty of the tie itself, of the position of the body of the model and of the actual rope work. Just as in the tea ceremony, there is the ephemeral beauty of the moment and the communion with other people who participate in the event, and there is also the more physical beauty of the utensils, the subtle decoration of the room and the elegant movements of the tea master. And that physical beauty can be more easily defined by what we humans conventionally find aesthetically pleasing, even though it also becomes less straightforward once we develop sophisticated ways of looking at things. 

Recently, because of a strained shoulder I avoided being tied in a TK and ended up being tied in a strappado a lot. It was an interesting exercise, because it made me and my partner, Asiana, look at familiar ties from new angles. One of our discoveries was that it seemed like pretty much everything that she tied looked better with a strappado. But we couldn’t figure out why. At that time we were tying on a single point and a lot of ties we did were kind of crunched or on the contrary, spreading me open, and they were not making me appear very graceful. It was interesting to see how combined with a strappado each of these positions felt more elegant and also looked more conventionally beautiful in the pictures that Asiana showed me. Later, we switched to bamboo again and she tied me in a ‘classic’ S-shape. Getting out of it, I was amazed by how much easier it was for me to take it, partly because I felt graceful and beautiful in it. Then I realised that in general many ties from Naka style make me feel this way and are often easier to handle than ties from other styles. I was trying to figure out what it is that makes them so graceful I have a theory - long lines and smooth arches. 

In another book that I’ve read recently, “A Guide to Better Movement”, the author, Todd Hargrove, says “There is something about a large range of motion that is pleasing to the eye, and this is why dancers and gymnasts get into the splits a lot.” He also says that in “graceful movements, even small subtle movements, affect the whole body.” and he mentions that efficient movement is perceived by humans as more beautiful and that “we can identify efficient movement by looking for arches and not angles. (...) sharp angles followed by flat lines is a sign of weakness, whereas smooth arches indicate strength.“ And in positions that I feel the most graceful and beautiful in my body is often shaped in long smooth arches. That was exactly the effect that strappado had on the ties on a single point because it was adding a long arched line of my arms to it, creating elongation where normally only short and jagged shapes would be present. 

But, there is the beauty that is “easy to see” and there is the one that needs more effort to be noticed. Many ties on a bamboo, especially the ones stretching and twisting the model, are conventionally beautiful in the sense that I have just described, they shape the body into smooth arched shapes. Also, because bamboo makes the shape rather two-dimensional (even though striving for three-dimensionality in a tie usually adds to its beauty), it is much easier to create with it something that looks good on a picture. While, when it comes to a single point, the positions lose a lot when they are shown only from one angle. In that sense, bamboo seems to make the rope work more like a painting, while the single point is more like a sculpture. That is not to say that one is better than the other, but that they are different media and that influences how they look but also my experience as a model. Both me and Asiana do not find the ties on a bamboo more beautiful than on a single point but we do recognise that they show different aspects of me and of our interaction. While the first one is often graceful, elegant and pleasant to look at and it usually leaves me feeling cathartically ‘reborn’, the other is twisted, ungraceful and struggle-inducing and through that it shows my human beauty in it’s more obscure aspects. 

There is a lot of beauty to be found in kinbaku, both as a practitioner and as a spectator. There is the simple and straightforward and the deep and obscure. There are ties that look almost the same but are completely different because of a small detail of historic significance. There are ties that are visually beautiful and those in which the beauty is in the emotions of the model. There is beauty in rope photography, beauty in rope videos, in performances and in private sessions. And the more I practice it, the more I read and study, the more beauty I find in the most unexpected places. My personal need to learn how to appreciate kinbaku is not coming from a need to be more sophisticated or ‘better’ than someone else but from the respect that I have for this amazing craft (art) and the people who devote themselves to learning it. I want to give justice to the effort they’ve put into their mastery. I want to fully appreciate what my riggers give me when they tie me and what I see when I watch performers on stage or in pictures. And to do that, I need to develop my own taste for beauty in kinbaku. Because liking everything is like liking nothing. And I want to be a receiver and an audience that is worth creating for. 

Bibliography:

* Soetsu Yanagi, “The Unknown Craftsman”

** Kakuzo Okakura, “The Book of Tea”

*** A. Minh Nguyen “New Essays in Japanese aesthetics”

**** Todd Hargrove “The Guide to Better Movement”