by Phillip Starr
Personally, I prefer the Japanese model. The traditional Japanese (and Okinawan) dojo is, in the eyes of a Westerner, rather stark. The place is kept immaculately clean and the floor is often constructed of polished wood, which gives very slightly and is actually better for prolonged physical activity than concrete. There are no posters of well-known martial arts figures or films, no trophies to attract the eye, nothing very fancy at all. There will be a kamiza (which denotes the “front” of the school, and there may also be a weapons rack, a national flag, two or three framed photos, and perhaps a roster of students. It's simple and stoic. No frills. Spotlessly clean and maintained by those who seek to cleanse their spirits in this place. They respect this place and what they do in it. And it shows. This is why the Japanese, Okinawans, and Koreans typically bow to the training floor before entering onto it or stepping off of it.
The Chinese model is a far cry from the Japanese version. Chinese martial arts were never practiced in formal dojos, largely due to the cost of constructing them in such a crowded country. Most martial arts practice was, and still is, conducted outdoors. This can be more than a little inconvenient for obvious reasons such as inclement weather. However, there's more to it than that. It lacks formality. There's no effort put forth to maintain its cleanliness. It's not regarded as a special place at all. It's usually just a particular area within the confines of a public park.
In China, some kung-fu classes may be held in one area of a warehouse or even a basement. I first started learning the martial ways of China in such a place; it was the basement of a small Chinese grocery. But it wasn't clean by a long shot and there was no formality to it at all. It was simply a convenient place to practice. I recall that someone coined the term “kwoon” as being the traditional term used for Chinese martial arts schools. “Kwoon” is the Cantonese pronunciation of the Mandarin word, “Guan”, which translates roughly as “gymnasium.” That's a far, far cry from the meaning of “dojo.” And it is my opinion that the lack of formality has a considerable impact on the students. If the training hall (wherever it may be) is not held in a special regard, the training that is done there tends to be rather lackadaisical.
This isn't to say that you need to rent a nice building in which to train or teach. The first “training hall” in which I taught was actually a public park! But before class, we would try to clear the area of any kind of detritus and spiff it up as best we could. I've also taught in public gymnasiums but I required my students to do the same thing. We would clean the floor and treat our area as a special place.
I smile as I recall talking with my good friend, Chris Smaby (8th dan, Japan Karate Assn.), about American dojos in the “old days.” We decided that although the place would be clean and tidy, it would typically have only one working light bulb, no ventilation, and no heat or air-conditioning. Most Japanese and Okinawan dojos were very similar to ours back in those days. I was very thankful that my training hall has good lighting, some measure of heat and air-conditioning, and ventilation. At the same time, I remember renting space in another martial arts school. The school's owner approached me one evening after class and complained that the place smelled of sweat. I told him that I taught traditional martial arts, not knitting. He didn't get it...
One well-known American karate instructor once said that the cleanliness (and general upkeep) of a dojo is a reflection of the quality of training that is conducted there. He hit the nail on the head. The training hall (or area, depending on circumstances) is the place where you learn and practice, the place where you will nurture, strengthen, and polish your body, mind, and spirit.
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