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A tribute to Udaka Michishige, noh master

A tribute to Michishige Udaka 1948-2020

Udaka Michishige was T.T.T.’s first teacher. Rebecca Teele (Ogamo) was his long-term disciple, and received her professional license and name from him just before we met, in 1981. Another disciple, John McAteer, who passed away last week, was my first noh teacher: a chorus member of his shimai dance Shojo. Rebecca was eager to share her skills in mask-making and knowledge of noh with other foreigners; I was similarly interested in setting up a program for myself and others to study noh and kyogen intensively in the summer. After discussions with teachers about the time, proper length, and content, we formed T.T.T. (Traditional theatre training) in 1984. Surprisingly, receiving a Japan Foundation award, we began the program with 16 pioneer students.
            Michishigesensei was that rare creature: a superb performer who was also a sensitive and profound teacher. His resonant voice boomed when he sang, but was a gentle bass when coaxing students towards the goals of perfecting their dance and song. He tied noh to long spiritual traditions originating in India, with an emphasis on exact form and vocal resonance. Gradually, his teaching style evolved in group lessons to teach quickly but alert to individual idiosyncrasies. He could teach a group while his alert eyes (even when facing forward!) could afterwards correct physically and verbally deviations, paying attention to each person’s development. I believe there was always time after lessons for question time, when he would provide foundations and explanations for movements and stories that grounded the mechanical techniques firmly in myth and legend.
            If any proof was needed of the aura attached to spiritual practice is needed, it can be found in the charisma of this performer-pedagogue extraordinaire. For three years he taught, and each year the noh class grew, as veterans returned to learn more advanced pieces, and newcomers entered, inspired by the veterans’ dedication. I recall 18 persons in the third year, learning in a rota with a long, varied recital on the Yasaka Shrine stage. He also taught and carved exquisite masks, a singular continuity with what he perceived as an ancient tradition where actors themselves carved their own.
            Because of differences between my teacher Shigeyama Sennojo (who insisted he could teach only technique, not spirit) and Michishigesensei (who felt noh was a spiritual as well as artistic path)—and my poor administration habits--we agreed to go separate ways in 1986. The INI (International Noh Institute) continues its activities, now managed by Diego Pellecchia, incredibly with students from those first T.T.T. years still practicing and even teaching, with their students, and even THEIR students, and hundreds of others. They have continued to learn from Michishigesensei, Rebecca, and recently his sons Tatsushige and Norishige.
            He was always very correct but kind with me, although seeming to find it curious that I would be drawn to kyogen. He respected passion, and perseverance, and I could only guess at the trials and tribulations he must have endured as a relative outsider to the Kyoto tradition, coming from Matsuyama in Shikoku, and his unique dual vocation as mask-maker as well as noh performer. We met once and drove downtown to Junkudo where he bought some books on Indian philosophy. I recall how at ease he looked in his sports jacket, Nissan sedan, navigating the Kyoto streets as easily as he walked the noh stage. He seemed a prince of the city, with a weight to his handshake, words, and mere presence that remains indelible even today.
            As a pillar of the Kongo School, the first master of noh to teach long-term foreign students, author of an insider’s introduction to noh masks, author and performer of a well-received new noh play about a Hiroshima atomic bomb, he will be remembered as playing a crucial role in the historical globalization of the art. As the founder of INI, and father of two promising actor sons and mask-carving daughter Keiko, his spirit lives on.

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