To start to know noh, you must know humility. As children, learning to walk is a milestone, and for noh, it is the same. When you are asked to forget what you understand about standing and begin to move as demons, divine beings, and wandering humans, you strip away the attachment to being right, and instead devote yourself to curiosity.

My greatest takeaway from INI’s Noh Intensive is that the simplest gesture or the thinnest wrinkle carved upon a mask can have the grandest meaning. Whether you are the suffering Yuya scanning the horizon for the solace of sakura, or Shojo bestowing the gift of everlasting sake to the generous shopkeeper, all these can be encapsulated in the gaze of the face or stream of the arm. Although there may have been fumbled footwork or warbled words, our eager inquiry into the imagery of the art form stripped us of our pride so we could breathe inside each character.

As the final demonstration ended, my reaction when ducking through the stage door was, “I wish I could perform again.” To me, that is the true sign of inspiration: longing to learn and share more. From the tips of my tabi socks to the final fold of the fan, I hope to humbly offer my knowledge of this art form to others through my work as an educator and writer. May this be the first step, the first kata, in a lifelong dance of coming to know Noh, and cheerily chanting that song to anyone willing to sing along.

(MC Crosby)