In the ShinÂtoÂism from which Hayao Miyazaki’s films libÂerÂalÂly draw, the worlds of nature and spirÂit are not mutuÂalÂly excluÂsive. “Shrine ShinÂto,” write James Boyd and TetÂsuya NishimuÂra at The JourÂnal of ReliÂgion and Film, “underÂstands the whole of life, includÂing both humans and nature, as creÂative and life givÂing. A genÂerÂaÂtive, immaÂnent force harÂmoÂniousÂly perÂvades the whole pheÂnomÂeÂnal world.” But to expeÂriÂence this powÂer “requires an aesÂthetÂiÂcalÂly pure and cheerÂful heart/mind, an emoÂtionÂal, menÂtal and voliÂtionÂal conÂdiÂtion that is not easÂiÂly attained.” In My NeighÂbor Totoro, for examÂple, MiyazaÂki helps to induce this state in us with long slice-of-life pasÂsages that move like genÂtle breezes through tall grassÂes and trees. In the apocÂaÂlypÂtic sci-fi NauÂsiÂcaä of the ValÂley of the Wind, the title charÂacÂter herÂself takes on the task of harÂmoÂniousÂly recÂonÂcilÂing man, nature, and mutant insect.
I would argue that Miyazaki’s films are not soleÂly enterÂtainÂments, but means by which we can expeÂriÂence “an aesÂthetÂiÂcalÂly pure and cheerÂful” heart and mind. And although he has retired, we can relive those films “over and over again,” as The Creator’s Project writes, not only by watchÂing them, but by buildÂing miniaÂture sets from them, as you see repÂreÂsentÂed here. See My NeighÂbor Totoro’s old, rusÂtic house in the forÂest—where SatÂsuÂki and Mei come to terms with their mother’s illÂness while befriendÂing the local nature spirits—get assemÂbled at the top of the post. And just above, see the town of Koriko from Kiki’s DelivÂery SerÂvice take shape, a place that becomes transÂformed by magÂic, just as Kiki does by her sorÂties into the forÂest.
These kits, made by the JapanÂese paper craft comÂpaÂny Sankei, are “ready to be assemÂbled and glued togethÂer, creÂatÂing your own mini movie set,” The Creator’s Project notes. PreÂviÂous modÂels include Totoro and his two small comÂpanÂions, above, and the bakÂery from Kiki; anothÂer kit recreÂates the desertÂed magÂiÂcal town ChiÂhiÂro and her parÂents stumÂble upon in SpirÂitÂed Away. The kits don’t come cheap—each one costs around $100—and they take time and skill to assemÂble, as you see in these videos. But like so many of the imporÂtant acts in Miyazaki’s films—and like the act of watchÂing those films themselves—we might think of assemÂbling these modÂels as ritÂuÂals of patience and devoÂtion to aesÂthetÂic habits of mind that slow us down and genÂtly nudge us to seek harÂmoÂny and conÂnecÂtion.
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
The SimpÂsons Pay WonÂderÂful TribÂute to the AniÂme of Hayao MiyazaÂki
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian based in Durham, NC. FolÂlow him at @jdmagness