How an art form survives into old age

When the wooden sticks were struck together, forming a slowly building rhythm, a male performer in vivid costume emerged onto the stage, his face white with black and bright-red stripes -- in true kumadori (kabuki stage make-up) fashion -- to suit his role as a hero. On his head was an elaborate wig; in his hand, a katana (samurai sword), ready to strike.

A woman, white-faced and dressed in an extravagant kimono, slowly walked out. We soon heard rhythmic drumbeats, which with a changing tempo can be used to emulate the sound of fluttering snow or falling rain.

These are some of the things audiences can witness at a kabuki performance -- a classical Japanese dance and drama which has been around since the 17th century and is now listed as an Intangible Cultural Heritage by Unesco.

The performance originated first in big cities before gaining popularity in various regions of the country. Soon, local townspeople began performing kabuki on their own, forming what is now known as jikabuki -- local kabuki performed by amateurs -- as opposed to okabuki (professional kabuki), which can be more formal in setting and style.

Jikabuki is still performed in local playhouses all over Japan, though it has grown less active over the years. Currently, there are only 200 groups still engaged in preserving this iconic art. Roughly 30 can be found within Gifu Prefecture -- the country's most active jikabuki area. It was suggested that the townspeople were able to continue this centuries-old legacy because many of the choreographers and artefacts survived the ravages of World War II.

One such figure that is still active in preserving this traditional performing art is Sachie Bay Oguri, aged 69, a curator at Aioiza -- a place that combines a museum and a kabuki theatre -- in Mizunami, Gifu Prefecture.

The theatre was built in 1895 and relocated to its present location in 1976. Inside, a traditional revolving stage, trap door and other wooden mechanisms that require manual operation are preserved and maintained. The place also houses a collection of 4,000 handmade costumes, the oldest dating back to the Edo period, 200 years ago.

"We are trying our best to preserve this piece of our tradition, just the same way it was hundreds of years ago," said Oguri via an interpreter.

In September of each year, Oguri would put on a jikabuki performance at Aioiza. It takes about 20 performers to put on a full show, telling stories of romance and historical battles of the Edo period. Her performers range in age from three to 73.

All the performers have an outside occupation; Oguri said jikabuki is more like a hobby for them. Throughout the prefecture, there are jikabuki performances going on every month. But the curator admitted that they have been seeing smaller audiences in recent years.

"There is now a wide range of entertainment available for the people. Kabuki can be difficult to understand, and so fewer people have been coming in lately."

The differences between okabuki and jikabuki aren't all about the professionalism of its actors. The professional performances, still found in major cities like Tokyo and Osaka, can be very expensive. But at the local playhouse, everyone can enjoy the performance for free, though donations are welcome.

On stage, the difference grows more pronounced, since traditional kabuki performance would incorporate only males. While the rule was set centuries ago, the practise remains the same in almost all okabuki troupes in which male performers solely dominate the stage.

It's a different story for jikabuki, however, as men, women and children can join in the performance. Local stages give opportunity and space for them to take on any role regardless of gender, and even for people to ascend through the strict class system established in the past, with commoners playing lords and samurai.

"I've played as an uncle, an aunt, and even an unmarried woman," said Oguri.

The curator became passionate about this exotic art when young. Her father was a performer, and she used to help out around the stage, even starring in a performance as a girl. Now, Oguri will teach for free the art of kabuki to anyone interested.

To further promote this iconic art form, Oguri has showcased the performance in Vietnam, Germany, the Czech Republic and France. Next year, she will serve as a guest lecturer at the University of Hawaii to teach costume maintenance and other kabuki-related topics.

The curator clearly expressed her disappointment that the theatre and the museum receive no support from the government.

"It costs a lot to maintain the playhouse. And the costumes, too. A kimono is very expensive," she said. "Even one wig costs ¥300,000 [about 91,000 baht]."

Fewer people coming in also means less income for the theatre, and Oguri said she had to use part of her own income to support the show. It's a difficult path to walk, but the curator said she's not giving up.

"At Aioiza, we have both the museum and jikabuki school, and it's the only place of its kind with both these elements. It's a must, really, to preserve it and keep it running," she said.

It's not just jikabuki that is suffering from slow business. Even professional kabuki is having this problem. Over the years, there have been attempts by some crews to modernise the show by adding more musical instruments, and even adapting modern tales for the stage -- most notably the popular Japanese comic One Piece -- in hopes of drawing younger crowds.

Oguri said she doesn't quite agree with these modernised adaptations.

"I can understand why people are doing it, really. Personally, however, I would rather promote the traditional form of kabuki, so that both Japanese and foreigners truly know that this is our standard, that this is history and how it used to be in the past. It's our culture, our tradition."

Through her work, Oguri remains ever optimistic that the traditional art of kabuki would be able to find its audiences.

"My kids and grandkids also love kabuki. And I have extreme confidence that this art will be able to thrive and live on for generations to come."