In approaching a brief exposition of the laws of Japanese painting it is
not my purpose to claim for that art superiority over every other kind of
painting; nor will I admit that it is inferior to other schools of
painting. Rather would I say that it is a waste of time to institute
comparisons. Let it be remembered only that no Japanese painting can be
properly understood, much less appreciated, unless we possess some
acquaintance with the laws which control its production. Without such
knowledge, criticism—praising or condemning a Japanese work of art—is
without weight or value.
Japanese painters smile wearily when informed that foreigners consider
their work to be flat, and at best merely decorative; that their pictures
have no middle distance or perspective, and contain no shadows; in fact,
that the art of painting in Japan is still in its infancy. In answer to
all this suffice it to say that whatever a Japanese painting fails to
contain has been purposely omitted. With Japanese artists it is a
question of judgment and taste as to what shall be painted and what best
left out. They never aim at photographic accuracy or distracting detail.
They paint what they feel rather than what they see, but they first see
very distinctly. It is the artistic impression (SHA I) which they strive
to perpetuate in their work. So far as perspective is concerned, in the
great treatise of Chu Kaishu entitled, “The Poppy-Garden Art
Conversations,” a work laying down the fundamental laws of landscape
painting, artists are specially warned against disregarding the principle
of perspective called EN KIN, meaning what is far and what is near. The
frontispiece to the present volume illustrates how cleverly perspective is
produced in Japanese art _(Plate I)._
Japanese artists are ardent lovers of nature; they closely observe her
changing moods, and evolve every law of their art from such incessant,
patient, and careful study.
These laws (in all there are seventy-two of them recognized as important)
are a sealed book to the uninitiated. I once requested a learned Japanese
to translate and explain some art terms in a work on Japanese painting.
He frankly declared he could not do it, as he had never studied painting.
The Japanese are unconsciously an art-loving people. Their very education
and surroundings tend to make them so. When the Japanese child of tender
age first takes his little bowl of rice, a pair of tiny chop-sticks is put
into his right hand. He grasps them as we would a dirk. His mother then
shows him how he should manipulate them. He has taken a first lesson in
the use of the brush. With practice he becomes skilful, and one of his
earliest pastimes is using the chop-sticks to pick up single grains of
rice and other minute objects, which is no easy thing to do. It requires
great dexterity. He is insensibly learning how to handle the double brush
(NI HON _fude)_ with which an artist will, among other things, lay on
color with one brush and dilute or shade off _(kumadori)_ the color with
another, both brushes being held at the same time in the same hand, but
with different fingers.
At the age of six the child is sent to school and taught to write with a
brush the phonetic signs Japanese (forty-seven in number) which constitute
the Japanese syllabary. These signs represent the forty-seven pure sounds
of the Japanese language and are used for writing. They are known as
_katakana_ and are simplified Chinese characters, consisting of two or
three strokes each. With them any word in Japanese can be written. It
takes a year for a child to learn all these signs and to write them from
memory, but they are an excellent training for both the eye and the hand.
His next step in education is to learn to write these same sounds in a
different script, called _hiragana._ These characters are cursive or
rounded in form, while the _katakana_ are more or less square. The
_hiragana_ are more graceful and can be written more rapidly, but they are
more complicated.
From daily practice considerable training in the use of the brush and the
free movement of the right arm and wrist is secured, and the eye is taught
insensibly the many differences between the square and the cursive form.
Before the child is eight years old he has become quite skilful in writing
with the brush both kinds of _kana._
He is next taught the easier Chinese characters,—Chinese KANJI and
ideographs. These are most ingeniously constructed and are of great
importance in the further training of the eye and hand.
So greatly do these wonderfully conceived written forms appeal to the
artistic sense that a taste for them thus early acquired leads many a
Japanese scholar to devote his entire life to their study and cultivation.
Such writers become professionals and are called SHOKA. Probably the most
renowned in all China was Ogishi. Japan has produced many such famous
men, but none greater than Iwaya Ichi Roku, who has left an immortal name.
From what has been said about writing with the brush, it will be
understood how the youth who may determine to follow art as a career is
already well prepared for rapid strides therein. His hand and arm have
acquired great freedom of movement. His eye has been trained to observe
the varying lines and intricacies of the strokes and characters, and his
sentiments of balance, of proportion, of accent and of stroke order, have
been insensibly developed according to subtle principles, all aiming at
artistic results.
The knowledge of Chinese characters and the their ability to write them
properly are considered of prime importance in Japanese art. A first
counsel given me by Kubota Beisen was to commence that study, and he
personally introduced me to Ichiroku who, from that time, kindly
supervised my many years of work in Chinese writing, a pursuit truly
engrossing and captivating.
In all Japanese schools the rudiments of art are taught, and children are
trained to perceive, feel, and enjoy what is beautiful in nature. There
is no city, village, or hamlet in all Japan that does not contain its
plantations of plum and cherry blossoms in spring, its peonies and lotus
ponds in summer, its chrysanthemums in autumn, and camelias, mountain
roses and red berries in winter. The school children are taken time and
again to see these, and revel amongst them. It is a part of their
education. Excursions, called UNDOKAI, are organized at stated intervals
during the school term and the scholars gaily tramp to distant parts of
the country, singing patriotic and other songs the while and enjoying the
view of waterfalls, broad and winding rivers, autumn maples, or
snow-capped mountains. In addition to this, trips are taken to all famous
temples and historical places including, where conveniently near, the
three great views of Japan,—Matsushima, Ama No Hashi Date, and Myajima.
Thus a taste for landscape is inculcated and becomes second nature.
Furthermore, the scholars are encouraged to closely watch every form of
life, including butterflies, crickets, beetles, birds, goldfish,
shell-fish, and the like; and I have seen miniature landscape gardens made
by Japanese children, most cleverly reproducing charming views and
contained in a shallow box or tray. This gentle little art is called
BONSAI or _hako niwa._
[The Tea Ceremony, by Miss Uyemura Shoen. Plate II.]
The Tea Ceremony, by Miss Uyemura Shoen. Plate II.
My purpose in alluding to all this is to indicate that a boy on leaving
school has absorbed already much artistic education and is fairly well
equipped for beginning a special course in the art schools of the empire.
These schools differ in their methods of instruction, and many changes
have been introduced in them during the present reign, or Meiji period,
but substantially the course takes from three to four years and embraces
copying (ISHA _mitori_), tracing (MOSHA, _tsuki-utsushi)_, reducing
(SHUKUZU, _chijime-ru)_, and composing (SHIKO, _tsukuri kata)._
In copying, the teacher usually first paints the particular subject and
the student reproduces it under his supervision. Kubota’s invariable
method was to require the pupil on the following day to reproduce from
memory (AN KI) the subject thus copied. This engenders confidence. In
tracing, thin paper is placed over the picture and the outlines (RIN KAKU)
are traced according to the _exact order_ in which the original subject
was executed, an order which is established by rule; thus a proper style
and brush habit are acquired. The correct sequence of the lines and parts
of a painting is of the highest importance to its artistic effect.
In reducing the size of what is studied, the laws of proportion are
insensibly learned. This is of great use afterwards in sketching
(SHASSEI). I believe that in the habit of reproducing, as taught in the
schools, lies the secret of the extraordinary skill of the Japanese
artisan who can produce marvelous effects in compressing scenery and other
subjects course within the very smallest dimensions and yet preserve
correct proportions and balance. Nothing can excel in masterly reduction
the miniature landscape work of the renowned Kaneiye, as exhibited in his
priceless sword guards _(tsuba)._
Sketching comes later in the course and is taught only after facility has
been acquired in the other three departments. It embraces everything
within doors and without—everything in the universe which has form or
shape goes into the artist’s sketch-book (KEN KON _no uchi_ KEI SHO
_arumono mina_ FUN PON _to nasu)—_and forms part of the course in
composition, which is intended to develop the imaginative faculties
(SOZO). Kubota was so skilful in sketching that while traveling rapidly
through a country he could faithfully reproduce the salient features of an
extended landscape, conformable to the general rule in sketching, that
what first attracts the eye is to be painted first, all else becoming
subordinate to it in the scheme. Again, he could paint the scenery and
personages of any historical song _(joruri)_ as it was being sung to him,
reproducing everything therein described and finishing his work in exact
time with the last bar of the music. His arm and wrist were so free and
flexible that his brush skipped about with the velocity of a dragon-fly.
As an offhand painter (SEKIJO), or as a contributor to an impromptu
picture in which several artists will in turn participate, such joint
composition being known as GASSAKU, Kubota stood _facile princeps_ among
modern Japanese artists. The Kyoto painters have always been most gifted
in that kind of accomplishment. In their day Watanabe Nangaku, a pupil of
Okyo, Bairei, and Hyakunen, all of Kyoto, were famous as SEKIJO painters.
The art student having completed his course is now qualified to attach
himself to some of the great artists, into whose household he will be
admitted and whose _deshi_ or art disciple he becomes from that time on.
The relation between such master (SENSEI) and his pupil _(deshi)_ is the
most kindly imaginable. Indeed, _deshi_ is a very beautiful word, meaning
a younger brother, and was first applied to the Buddhist disciples of
Shakka. The master treats him as one of his family and the pupil reveres
the master as his divinity. Greater mutual regard and affection exist
nowhere and many pupils remain more or less attached to the master’s
household until his death. To the most faithful and skilful of these the
master bestows or bequeaths his name or a part of it, or his nom de plume
(GO); and thus it is that the celebrated schools (RYUGI or HA or FU) of
Japanese painting have been formed and perpetuated, beginning with
Kanaoka, Tosa, Kano, and Okyo, and brought down to posterity through the
devoted, and I might say sacred efforts of their pupils, to preserve the
methods and traditions of those great men. Pupils of the earlier painters
took their masters’ family names, which accounts for so many Tosas and
Kanos.
Great painters have always been held in high esteem in Japan, not only by
their pupils, but also by the whole nation. Chikudo, the distinguished
tiger painter, Bairei, one of the most renowned of the SHIJO HA or
Maruyama school, Hashimoto Gaho, a pupil of Kano Massano and a leading
exponent of the Kano style (Kano HA), and Katei, a Nangwa artist, all only
recently deceased, were glorified in their lifetime. Strange to say, no
one ever saw Gaho with brush in hand. He never would paint before his
pupils or in any one’s presence. His instructions were oral. On the
other hand, Kubota Beisen was always at his best when painting before
crowds of admirers.
Prior to the Meiji period the great painters attached to the household of
a Daimyo were called _O Eshi._ Painters who sold their paintings were
styled _E kaki._ Now all painters are called GWA KA. Engravers, sculptors,
print makers and the like were and still are denominated SHOKUNIN, meaning
artisans. The comprehensive term “fine arts” (BIJUTSU) is of quite recent
creation in Japan.
To say a few words about the different schools of painting in Japan, there
were great artists there, many centuries before Italy had produced Michael
Angelo or Raphael. The art of painting began more than fifteen hundred
years ago and has continued in uninterrupted descent from that remote time
down to this forty-fourth year of Meiji, the present emperor’s reign. No
other country in the civilized world can produce such an art record. One
thousand years before America was discovered, five hundred years before
England had a name, and long before civilization had any meaning in
Europe, there were artists in Japan following the profession of painting
with the same ardor and the same intelligence they are now bestowing upon
their art in this twentieth century of our era.
When Buddhism was introduced there in the sixth century, a great school of
Buddhist artists began its long career. Among the names that stand out
from behind the mist of ages is that of Kudara no Kawanari, who came from
Corea.
In the ninth century lived the celebrated Kose Kanaoka. He painted in
what was called the pure Japanese style, _yamato e,_ _yamato_ being the
earliest name by which Japan was designated. He painted portraits and
landscapes, and his school having a great following, lasted through five
centuries. Kose Kimi Mochi, his pupil, Kimitada and Hirotaka were
distinguished disciples of Kanaoka.
The Tosa school came next, beginning with Tosa Motomitsu, followed by
Mitsunaga, Nobuzane and Mitsunobu. It dates back to the period of the
Kamakura Shogunate eight hundred years ago. Its artists confined
themselves principally to painting court scenes, court nobles, and the
various ceremonies of court life. This school always used color in its
paintings.
After Tosa came the schools of Sumiyoshi, Takuma, Kassuga, and Sesshu.
Sesshu was a genius of towering proportions and an indefatigable artist of
the very highest rank as a landscape painter. He had a famous pupil named
Sesson.
Following Sesshu came the celebrated school of Kano artists, founded in
the sixteenth century by Kano Masanobu. It took Japan captive. It had a
tremendous vogue and following, and has come down to the present day
through a succession of great painters. There were two branches, one in
Edo (Tokyo), which included Kano Masanobu, Motonobu, his son, Eitoku,
Motonobu’s pupil, and later, Tanyu (Morinobu) Tanshin, his pupil, Koetsu,
Naonobu, Tsunenobu, Morikage, Itcho, and finally Hashimoto Gaho, its
latest distinguished representative, who is but recently deceased. The
other branch, known as the Kyoto Kano, included the famous San Raku, Eino,
San Setsu, and others. By some critics San Raku is placed at the head of
all the Kano artists.
The Kano painters are remarkable for the boldness and living strength of
the brush strokes _(fude no chicara_ or _fude no ikioi)_, as well as for
the brilliancy or sheen _(tsuya)_ and shading of the _sumi._ This latter
effect—the play of light and shade in the stroke, considered almost a
divine gift—is called BOKUSHOKU, and recalls somewhat the term
_chiaroscuru._ The range of subjects of the Kano painters was originally
limited to classic Chinese scenery, treated with simplicity and
refinement, and to Chinese personages, sages and philosophers; color was
used sparingly.
Other schools, more or less offshoots of the Kano style (RYU) of painting,
came next—e. g., Korin and his imitator, Hoitsu, the DAIMYO of Sakai, who
was said to use powdered gold and precious stones in his pigments. Korin
has never had his equal as a painter on lacquer. His work is said to be
_le regal des delicats._
Another disciple of the Kano school, and a pupil of Yutei, was Maruyama
Okyo, who founded in turn a school of art which is the most widely spread
and flourishing in Japan today. Maruyama, not Okyo, was the family name
of that artist. The name Okyo originated thus: Maruyama, much admiring an
ancient painter named Shun Kyo, took the latter half of that name, Kyo,
and prefixing an “O” to it, made it Okyo, which he then adopted. His
style is called SHI JO FU, SHI JO being the name of that part of Kyoto
where he resided, and FU meaning style or manner, and its characteristic
is artistic fidelity to the objects represented. By some it is called the
realistic school, and includes such well-known household names as Goshun,
pupil of Busson, Sosen, the great monkey painter, Tessan _(Plate III.)_
and his son, Morikwansai, Bairei, Chi-kudo, the tiger painter, Hyakunen
and his three pupils, Keinen, Shonen and Beisen, Kawabata Gyokusho, Torei,
Shoen, and Takeuchi Seiho.
There are still other schools (RYUGI) which might be mentioned, including
that of the NANGWA, or Chinese southern painters, of Chinese origin and
remarkable for the gracefulness of the brush stroke, the effective
treatment of the masses and for the play of light and shade throughout the
composition. Among the great NANGWA painters are Taigado, Chikuden,
Baietsu _(Plate VIII)_ and Katei. To this school is referred a style of
painting affected exclusively by the professional writers of Chinese
characters, and called BUNJINGWA. To these I will allude further on. The
versatile artist, Tani Buncho, created a school which had many adherents,
including the distinguished Watanabe Kwazan and Eiko of Tokyo, lately
deceased, one of its best exponents.
The art of painting is enthusiastically pursued at the present time in
Kyoto, Tokyo, Nagoya and Osaka. In Tokyo, Hashi Moto Gaho was generally
conceded to be, up to the time of his death in 1908, the foremost artist
in Japan. Although of the Kano school, he greatly admired European art,
and the treatment of the human figure in some of his latest paintings
recalls the manner of the early Flemish artists.
My first meeting with Gaho was at his home. While waiting for him, I
observed suspended in the _tokonoma,_ or alcove, a narrow little
_kakemono_ by Kano Moto Nobu, representing an old man upon a donkey
crossing a bridge. A small bronze vase containing a single flower spray
was the sole ornament in the room. This gave the keynote to Gaho’s
character—classic simplicity, ever reflected in his work. He had many
followers. His method of instruction with advanced pupils was to give
them subjects such as “A Day in Spring,” “Solitude,” “An Autumn Morning,”
or the like, and he was most insistent upon all the essentials to the
proper effect being introduced. His criticisms were always luminous and
sympathetic. He advised his students to copy everything good, but to
imitate no-one,—to develop individuality. He left three very
distinguished and able pupils—Gyokudo, Kan Zan and Boku Sen.
[Chickens in Spring, by Mori Tessan. Plate III.]
Chickens in Spring, by Mori Tessan. Plate III.
Since Gaho’s death, Kawabata Gyokusho, an Okyo artist, is the recognized
leader of the capital. In Kyoto, Takeuchi Seiho, an early pupil of
Bairei, now occupies the foremost place, although Shonen and Keinen,
pupils of Hyakunen, still hold a high rank.
Recurring to the time of Tosa, there is another school beginning under
Matahei and perpetuated through many generations of popular artists,
including Utamaro, Yeisen and Hokusai, and coming down to the present
date. This is the _Ukiyo e_ or floating-world-picture school. It is far
better known through its prints than its paintings. The great painters of
Japan have never held this school in any favor. At one time or another I
have visited nearly every distinguished artist’s studio in Japan, and I
know personally most of the leading artists of that country. I have never
seen a Japanese print in the possession of any of them, and I know their
sentiments about all such work. A print is a lifeless production, and it
would be quite impossible for a Japanese artist to take prints into any
serious consideration. They rank no higher than cut velvet scenery or
embroidered screens. I am aware that such prints are in great favor with
many enthusiasts and that collectors highly value them; but they do not
exemplify art as the Japanese understand that term. It must be admitted,
however, that the prints have been of service in several ways. They first
attracted the world’s attention to the subject of Japanese art in general.
Commencing with an exhibition of them in London a half century ago, the
prints of Ukiyo or genre subjects came rapidly into favor and ever since
have commanded the notice and admiration of collectors in Europe and
America. Many people are even under the impression that the prints
represent Japanese painting, which, of course, is a great mistake. There
have been artists in Japan who, in the _Ukiyo e_ manner, have painted
_kakemono_, BYOBU and _makimono_. The word _kakemono_ is applied to a
painting on silk or paper, wound upon a wooden roller and unrolled and
hung up to be seen. _Kakeru_ means to suspend and _mono_ means an object,
hence _kakemono_, a suspended object. BYOBU signifies wind protector or
screen; _makimono_, meaning a wound thing, is a painting in scroll form.
It is not suspended, but simply unrolled for inspection. Such original
work by Matahei and others is extant. But most of the _Ukiyo e_, or
pictures in the popular style, are prints struck from wood blocks and are
the joint production of the artist, the wood engraver, the color smearer
and the printer, all of whom have contributed to and are more or less
entitled to credit for the result; and that is one reason why the
artist-world of Japan objects to or ignores them; they are not the
spontaneous, living, palpitating production of the artist’s brush. It is
well known that artists of the _Ukiyo e_ school frequently indicated only
by written instructions how their outline drawings for the prints should
be colored, leaving the detail of such work to the color smearer. Apart
from the fact that the colors employed were the cheapest the market
afforded, and are found often to be awkwardly applied, there is too much
about the prints that is measured, mechanical and calculated to satisfy
Japanese art in its highest sense. Frequently more than one engraver was
employed upon a single print. The engravers had their specialties; some
were engaged for the coiffure or head-dress _(mage),_ other for the lines
of the face, others for the dress _(kimono),_ others still for pattern
(MOYO), et cetera. The most skilful engravers in Yedo were called
_kashira bori_ and were always employed on Utamaro and Hokusai prints.
Many of the colors of these prints in their soft, neutral shades, are
rapturously extolled by foreign connoisseurs as evidence of the marvelous
taste of the Japanese painter. But, really, time more than art is to be
credited with toning down such tints to their present delicate hues. In
this respect, like Persian rugs, they improve with age and exposure. An
additional objection to most of the prints is that they reproduce trivial,
ordinary, every-day occurrences in the life of the mass of the people as
it moves on. They are more or less plebian. The prints being intended
for sale to the common people, the subjects of them, however skilfully
handled, had to be commonplace. They were not purchased by the nobility
or higher classes. Soldiers, farmers, and others bought them as presents
_(miage)_ for their wives and children, and they were generally sold for a
penny apiece, so that in Japan prints were a cheap substitute for art with
the lower classes, just as Raspail says garlic has always been the camphor
of the poor in France. The practice of issuing _Ukiyo e_ prints at very
low prices still continues in Tokyo, where every week or two such colored
publications are sprung up in front of the book-stalls and are still as
eagerly purchased by the common people as they were in Tokugawa days.
The prices the old prints now bring are out of all proportion to their
intrinsic value, yet, such is the crescendo craze to acquire them that
Japan has been almost drained of the supply, the number of prints of the
best kind being limited, like that of Cremona violins of the good makers.
Prints are genuine originals of a first or subsequent issue, called
respectively, SHO HAN and SAI HAN, or they are reproductions more or less
cleverly copied upon new blocks, or they are fraudulent imitations
(GANBUTSU) of the original issues, often difficult to detect. The very
wormholes are burnt into them with SENKO or perfume sticks and clever
workmen are employed to make such and other trickery successful. A long
chapter could be written about their dishonest devices. Copies of genuine
prints (HON KOKU), made from new blocks after the manner of the ancient
ones, abound, and were not intended to pass for originals. Yedo, where
the print industry was chiefly carried on, has had so many destructive
conflagrations that most of the old _Ukiyo e_ blocks have been destroyed.
At Nagoya the house of To Heki Do still preserves the original blocks of
the MANGWA or miscellaneous drawings of Hokusai, but they are much worn.
Prints are known by various names, such as _ezoshi_ (illustrations),
_nishiki e_, _edo e_ (Yedo pictures), _sunmono_ and INSATSU. It may be of
interest to know that the print blocks, when so worn as to be no longer
serviceable for prints, are sometimes converted into fire-boxes
_(hibachi)_ and tobacco trays _(tobacco bon)_ which, when highly polished,
are decorative and unique.
Perhaps a useful purpose prints have served is to record the manners and
customs of the people of the periods when they were struck off. They show
not only prevailing styles of dress and headdress, but also the pursuits
and amusements of the common folk. They are excellent depositaries of
dress pattern (MOYO) or decoration, upon which fertile subject Japan has
always been a leading authority. In the early Meiji period print painters
frequently delegated such minute pattern work to their best pupils, whose
seals (IN) will be found upon the prints thus elaborated. The prints
preserve the ruling fashions of different periods in combs and other hair
ornaments, fans, foot-gear, single and multiple screens, fire-boxes and
other household ornaments and utensils. They also furnish specimens of
temple and house architecture, garden plans, flower arrangements _(ike
bana),_ bamboo, twig and other fences. Again, they reproduce the stage,
with its famous actors in historical dramas; battle scenes, with warriors
and heroes; characters in folk-lore and other stories, and wrestling
matches, with the popular champions; and we will often find upon the face
of the print good reproductions of Chinese and Japanese writing, in poems
and descriptive prose pieces. Hokusai illustrated much of the classic
poetry of China and Japan, as well as the SENJIMON, or Thousand Character
Chinese classic, a work formerly universally taught in the Japanese
schools. The original characters for this remarkable compilation were
taken from the writings of Ogishi. The prints have aided in teaching
elementary history to the young; the knowledge of Japanese children in
this connection is often remarkable and may be attributed to the
educational influence of the _Ukiyo e_ publications.
So there are certainly good words to be said for the prints, but they are
not Japanese art in its best sense, however interesting as a subordinate
phase of it, and in no sense are they Japanese painting.
If limited to a choice of one artist of the _Ukiyo e_ school, no mistake
would be made, I think, in selecting Hiroshige, whose landscapes fairly
reproduce the sentiment of Japanese scenery, although the prints bearing
his name fall far short of reproducing that artist’s color schemes.
Hokusai’s reputation with foreigners is greater than Hiroshige’s, but
Japanese artists do not take Hokusai seriously. His pictures, they
declare, reflect the restlessness of his disposition; his peaks of Fuji
are all too pointed, and his manner generally is exaggerated and
theatrical. Utamaro’s women of the Yoshiwara are certainly careful
studies in graceful line drawing,—as correct as Greek drapery in marble.
Iwasa Matahei, the founder of the popular school, was a pupil of
Mitsunori, a Kyoto artist and follower of Tosa. Matahei disliked Tosa
subjects and preferred to depict the fleeting usages of the people, so he
was nicknamed Fleeting World or _Ukiyo_ Matahei, and thus originated the
name _Ukiyo e_ or pictures of every-day life. There are no genuine
Matahei prints. He dates back to the seventeenth century. Profile faces
in original screen paintings by him have an Assyrian cast of countenance,
the eye being painted as though seen in full face.
Hishikawa Moronobu was his follower and admirer. He was an artist of
Yedo. Nishikawa Sukenobu belonged to the Kano school and was a pupil of
Kano Eiko. He adopted the _Ukiyo e_ style and depicted the pastimes of
women and the portraits of actors. He lived two hundred and twenty years
ago and in his time prints came greatly into vogue. Torii Kyonobu painted
women and actors and invented the kind of pictured theatrical powers which
are still in fashion, placarded at the entrance to theaters and showing
striking incidents in the play.
Suzuki Harunobu never painted actors, preferring to reproduce the feminine
beauties of his time. It was to his careful work that was first applied
the term _nishiki e_ or brocade pictures, on account of the charm of his
decorative manner. He lived one hundred and thirty years ago.
Among the many able foreign writers on Japanese prints Fenollosa stands
prominent. He resided for a long time in Japan, understood and spoke the
language, and lived the life of the people. He was in great sympathy with
them and with their art and enjoyed exceptional opportunities for seeing
and studying the best treasures of that country. Had he possessed the
training necessary to paint in the Japanese style I do not think he would
have devoted so much time to Japanese woodcuts. Visiting me at Kyoto,
where I was busily engaged in painting, “Ah!” he cried, “that is what I
have always longed to do. Sooner or later I shall follow your example.”
But he never did. Instead, he issued a large work on Japanese prints.
His death was a real loss to the art literature of Japan. During eight
years he was in the service of the Japanese government ransacking,
cataloguing and photographing the multitudinous art treasures, paintings,
_kakemono_, _makimono,_ and BYOBU (pictures, scrolls and screens), to be
found in the various Buddhist and other temples and monasteries scattered
throughout the empire. The last time we met, he remarked, “How can one
willingly leave this land of light? Japan, to my mind, stands for
whatever is beautiful in nature and true in art; here I hope to pass the
remaining years of my life.” Such was his genuine enthusiasm, engendered
by a long acquaintance with art and everything else beautiful in that
country. Japan impresses in this way all who see it under proper
conditions, but unfortunately the ordinary traveler, pushed for time, and
whose acquaintance is limited to professional guides, never gets much
beyond the sights, the shops and the curio dealers.
[Snow Scene in Kaga, by Kubota Beisen. Plate IV.]
Snow Scene in Kaga, by Kubota Beisen. Plate IV.
The question is often asked, “Is there any good book on Japanese
painting?” I know of none in any language except Japanese. The following
are among the best works on the subject:
A History of Japanese Painting (HON CHO GASHI), by Kano Eno.
A Treasure Volume (BAMPO ZEN SHO), by Ki Moto Ka Ho.
The Painter’s Convenient Reference (GOKO BEN RAN), by Arai Haku
Seki.
A Collection of Celebrated Japanese Paintings (KO CHO MEIGA SHU E),
by Hiyama Gi Shin.
Ideas on Design in Painting (TO GA KO), by Saito Heko Maro.
A Discourse on Japanese Painting (HONCHO GWA SAN), by Tani Buncho.
Important Reflections on All Kinds of Painting (GWA JO YO RYAKU), by
Arai Kayo.
A Treatise on Famous Japanese Paintings (FU SO MEI GWA DEN), by Hori
Nao Kaku.
Observations on Ancient Pictures (KO GWA BI KO), by Asa Oka Kotei.
A Treatise on Famous Painters (FU SO GWA JIN), by Ko Shitsu Ryo Chu.
A Treatise on Japanese Painting (YAMATO NISHIKI KEM BUN SHO), by
Kuro Kama Shun Son.
A Treatise on the Laws of Painting (GWAFU), by Ran Sai, a pupil of
Chinanpin. The work is voluminous and is both of great use and
authority.
CHO CHU GWA FU, by Chiku To.
SHA ZAN GAKUGWA HEN, by Buncho.
Translations of all these works into English are greatly to be desired.
There is much that has been sympathetically written and published about
Japanese paintings both in Europe and America, but however laudatory, it
might be all summed up under the title, “Impressions of an Outsider.”
Such writings lack the authority which only constant labor in the field of
practical art can confer. A Japanese artist, by which I mean a painter,
is long in making. From ten to fifteen years of continuous study and
application are required before much skill is attained. During that time
he gradually absorbs a knowledge of the many principles, precepts, maxims
and methods, which together constitute the corpus or body of art doctrine
handed down from a remote antiquity and preserved either in books or
perpetuated by tradition. Along with these are innumerable art secrets
called _hiji_ or _himitsu,_ never published, but orally imparted by the
masters to their pupils—not secrets in a trick sense, but methods of
execution discovered after laborious effort and treasured as valued
possessions. It is obvious, then, how incapable of writing technically
upon the subject must anyone be who has not gone through such curriculum
and had drilled into him all that varied instruction which makes up the
body of rules applicable to that art.
I have read many seriously written appreciations of Japanese paintings
published in various modern languages, and even some amiable imaginings
penned for foreigners by Japanese who fancy they know by instinct what
only can be acquired after long study and practice with brush in hand.
All such writers are characterized in Japan by a very polite term,
_shiroto_—which means amateur. It also has a secondary signification of
emptiness.
[Chapter 3 Head-Band: The design called “Dew on the Grass and Butterflies”
(tsuyu, kusa ni cho).]