A Handbook of Modern Japan

by Ernest W. Clement

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

“The Wee Ones of Japan” (Mrs. Bramhall), pp. 97-108; “When I was a Boy in Japan” (Shioya); “A Japanese Boy” (Shigemi); “Japanese Girls and Women” and “A Japanese Interior” (Miss Bacon), all give interesting accounts of school life in both Old and New Japan. The Department of Education issues annually in English, for free distribution on application, a “Report,” which contains the latest statistics and other information. “The Educational Conquest of the Far East” (Lewis) is an excellent discussion of educational conditions and problems of the day in China and Japan. See also Scherer’s “Young Japan,” pp. 284-311. The (English) catalogue of the Imperial University, Tōkyō, is instructive. “Every Day Japan” (Lloyd) contains interesting material on this subject. “Japanese Education” (Kikuchi) is authoritative.

CHAPTER XVI
ÆSTHETIC JAPAN

Outline of Topics: Japan’s debt to art.—Wide diffusion of æsthetic ideals.—Chinese origin of Japanese art.—Painting the key-note.—Considered a form of poetry.—Characteristics.—Color prints.—Sculpture.—Keramics.—Metal work.—Cloisonné. Lacquer.—Embroidery.—Music.—Poetry.—Dancing.—Drama. Tea ceremonies.—Flower arrangement.—Landscape gardening.—Unity of the arts.—Bibliography.

IT has been said with a great deal of truth that no other country in the world owes so much to its art as Japan. As Huish puts it, “Japan would never have attracted the extraordinary notice which she so rapidly did had it not been for her art.... Her art manufactures have penetrated the length and breadth of the world.” Yet it is a curious fact, to which Chamberlain calls attention, that the Japanese have “no genuinely native word” for either art or nature. The expression “fine art” is commonly represented by the word bi-jutsu, a Chinese compound meaning literally “beauty-craft.” So intimately are æsthetic ideals bound up with the whole course of Japanese life and modes of thought, that art is not, as in the Western world, a mere sporadic efflorescence, but the inevitable expression of the spirit of the Eastern civilization, and needing therefore no distinctive term to denote it as a thing set apart and existing by itself.

While this is true, it is also true that Japan furnishes no exception to Mr. Whistler’s dictum that “there never was an art-loving nation.” The explanation of this seeming paradox is one which needs to be borne in mind. The æsthetic ideals crystallized in the works of the countless generations of artists who for more than a thousand years have held to them firmly as their guiding principles, have become so much the intellectual heritage of the people as a whole that it is most natural that the foreign observer, noting the æsthetic impress upon everything about him, should look upon the Japanese as a nation of artists. To an extent not known elsewhere the Japanese mechanic is indeed an art-isan. And there is a measure of truth in Percival Lowell’s assertion that there are “no mechanical arts in Japan simply because all such have been raised to the position of fine arts.”[149] From the Japanese point of view, however, differences in degree of artistic perception are as pronounced among the Japanese as among other peoples. In Japan, as in all other lands, artistic inspiration is given to but few among the many; artists having creative genius tower high above their fellows; and the little touches that excite the wonder and admiration of the outside world are seen to be in large degree the outcome of conventional notions rather than the expression of individual feeling.

The art of Japan like most other elements in her civilization is of Chinese origin. Concurrently with the introduction by way of the Middle Kingdom of that stream of abstract idealism known as Northern Buddhism, China became the fountain head whence until comparatively recent times a succession of æsthetic ideas spread over Japan.[150] Modern Chinese art is justly held to possess little merit, but in the days when it exerted its dominating influence upon the Japanese mind it had attained a very high standard of excellence, and in particular some of the Chinese painters were among the greatest the world has ever known. With the exception of a few original modifications, the product of temperament and historical situation, everything in Japanese art has come from China; yet the generic ideas have been so worked over and transformed in the process that the resultant is distinctly not Chinese but Japanese. The influence of Buddhism has been very great; it would indeed, be difficult to overestimate it.[151] Most of the earlier artists were Buddhist priests, and, until the revival of Shintō as the State religion, during the present reign, Buddhism was directly and indirectly one of the principal promoters and patrons of the arts.

PAINTING BY HO-ITSU: VIEW OF FUJI-SAN

Foremost among the arts of Japan, both relatively and as the key which is necessary to understanding and appreciation of the others, is painting. It is an art differing in many respects from that of the European schools of painting, but not less worthy of serious consideration, and in certain qualities it ranks supreme. To those who have seen the masterpieces preserved among the temple treasures, or hidden in the collections of Japanese noblemen, and have felt their grandeur and charm, this will seem far short of over-statement. In the West, however, there is little opportunity to gauge the achievements of the great Japanese painters,[152] and it is even possible to spend a lifetime in Japan and remain in ignorance thereof.

Japanese critics have always considered painting to be a form of poetry. The painter therefore strives to represent the soul of things rather than their visible forms. Not that he scorns realism, indeed he is often minutely realistic in a way that is unapproachable; but realism with him is only incidental, his main purpose being to produce a poem in form and color. To this end all irrelevant details are necessarily omitted. Nothing is given that in any way interferes with the central thought. Reduced thus to its simplest elements, his art calls for the utmost harmony in all that enters into it, and first of all for perfect composition of line, mass, and vacant space. Scarcely less important is color arrangement, including the balancing of light and dark as factors in the result. A high degree of technical skill is also requisite, for the poetry would be lost should the execution seem labored. The greatest works are, in appearance at least, spontaneous to an astonishing degree. Wonderful indeed are the possibilities of a single brush stroke in the hands of a master. The effects produced range from almost microscopic realism to the broadest impressionism, the latter quality being predominant in the works of some of the most eminent artists.

So far as it is possible to sum them up in a brief statement, the distinguishing characteristics of Japanese painting are these:—

1. Excellence of composition.

2. Subtlety and beauty of line.

3. Remarkable command of the brush, and directness of method in its use.

4. Simplicity of treatment, and rigid exclusion of non-essentials.

5. Absence of chiaroscuro, and the employment of notan, or contrast between light and dark.

6. Skilful generalization of forms.

7. Poetical conception.

8. High development of the sense of harmony in color.

Any such summing up is, however, necessarily imperfect. It is not feasible to give here any account of the various schools and artists, and the reader desiring more extended information is referred to the sources indicated in the bibliography appended to this chapter. Before leaving this branch of the subject, mention should be made of calligraphy, which, although justly regarded in Japan as an art, is not so much a separate art as the art of painting applied to writing the Chinese ideographs. It will not appear strange, therefore, that masterly writing should be esteemed equally with painting.

An art closely allied to painting is that of chromoxylography, or color printing from engraved wood blocks. Nothing could be simpler than the method employed, the sheets of paper being laid face down on the block which has been previously inked with a brush, and pressure is then applied by rubbing the back of the sheets with a pad held in the hand of the printer. Nevertheless no greater triumphs of the printer’s art have ever been achieved than the beautiful color prints of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries after designs by Harunobu, Koriusai, Shunsho, Kyonaga, Toyokuni, Utamaro, Hokusai, and other noted artists of the Popular school. Though still in use, this process is largely being superseded by the cheaper, if less artistic, processes of lithography, collotype, etc.

In glyptic art the triumphs of the Japanese have been little less than in that of painting. The most remarkable specimens are the ancient figures in bronze and in wood which are preserved in the temples. The Daibutsu, or gigantic bronze statue of Buddha, at Nara will serve as an example, having been illustrated so often that all the world is familiar with its appearance.

The objects upon which the art of the Japanese sculptors has been exercised are many. Particularly in the carving of the masks used in the Nō dances, and the little ornaments called netsuke, the skill and artistic qualities displayed are often of the highest order. It would be difficult to overpraise the best work of such artists in this line, as Deme Jikan, Minko, Tomotada, Miwa, and many others. As in the case of painting, the method used by the carver must be direct and masterly to satisfy Japanese taste. Only clean, strong strokes will pass muster. There must be no niggling nor retouching. Visitors to the shrines at Nikkō will be impressed by this quality in the remarkable works to be found there by the famous seventeenth-century sculptor Hidari Jingorō, that is to say, “Left-handed Jingorō.”

One of the most ancient of the arts of Japan is that of the potter. It is also one of the most profitable for study. The principles which have been enumerated as applicable to painting will be found carefully embodied in the fabrication and ornamentation of keramic wares, the variety of which is endless. In some instances these wares are known by the names of the makers, as Ninsei, Kenzan, Kozan, Seifu, and others; but in general they are designated by the names of the provinces wherein they are made. Thus we have the wares of Satsuma, Hizen, Arita, Imari, Kaga, Kyōto, Owari, Bizen, Iga, Ota, Soma, Izumo, and many more. Occasionally the name of a particular locality is used, as for instance that of Seto in Owari. Here it was that Shirozaemon, called “the Father of Pottery,” established himself in the thirteenth century; and such was the repute of the products of his kiln that Seto-mono, or Seto ware, became a generic name in Japan for all keramic productions, quite as in English we use the term “china” for all kinds of porcelain wherever made.

Unfortunately the Japanese potter of to-day is largely under the influence of foreign markets, to the great degradation of his art. The condition is well portrayed by Huish, who says: “The wealthy ‘red-hairs’ who came to him from the West could see no beauties in the objects that had given the greatest pleasure to the men of refinement of his own country; and in order that the potter might participate in the overflow of silver dollars with which the foreigners were blessed, he was obliged to put aside those principles which he and his father before him had looked upon as the fundamental ones of their craft, and produce wares totally at variance with his preconceived ideas of the right.”

Many and distinctive are the arts of the Japanese metal-workers. They are widely renowned for their skill in compounding numerous alloys, for inlaying one metal upon another, for clever manipulation of refractory materials such as wrought iron of exceeding toughness which they nevertheless carve and chase almost as though it were wax, for casting in bronze and iron by the cire perdue process, and especially for the manufacture of armor, both offensive (such as swords and spears) and defensive (such as helmets and coats of mail). Japanese swords excel even the famous blades of Damascus and Toledo, and the names of the swordsmiths Munichika, Masamune, Muramasa, and others, are now of international reputation. The blades which were made by these men are not only of extraordinary excellence, but are also veritable works of art and highly prized as such by connoisseurs. Equally celebrated in different lines are the works of the Miochin and Goto families; and among the metal-workers of to-day are many worthy successors of these giants of the past.

The art of enamelling upon metal is, with some exceptions, comparatively a new one in Japan, but is now very popular. The wares are known to the Japanese as Shippō-yaki, and in general, in the West, as cloisonné. The centres of the enamel-workers are Tōkyō, Kyōto, and Nagoya, and the best-known makers are Namikawa, of Tōkyō, the inventor of the “cloison-less” enamel, and his namesake of Kyōto.

One of the most distinctive of the arts of Japan is that of lacquering, and the Japanese product far excels that of any other makers. The lac, which is a varnish made from the poisonous sap of a tree of the sumac (rhus) family, is applied in thin layers on a carefully prepared ground, usually of wood, and after being dried in a moist oven or steam-chest, is carefully rubbed down and polished. This is repeated with each layer. Various substances, metallic and other, are mixed with the lac or applied to its surface before it is dry, and it may be carved and inlaid in different ways. This is a bare outline of a process which is long and tedious and which has many variations. Extended accounts with many interesting details will be found in Rein’s “Industries of Japan,” in the ninth volume of the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, and in Volume VII. of Captain Brinkley’s “Japan.”

PAINTING BY YASUNOBU: HERON AND LOTUS

Embroidery, like the designing for brocades and other fabrics, is an art which follows closely the analogies of the art of painting, and is governed by the same æsthetic principles. The embroiderers in Japan are not women but men, and in their work they often display remarkable taste and ability as designers, as well as craftsmanship of the highest order.

To Occidental ears Japanese music, set, as it always is, in a minor key and abounding in discords, seems unworthy of the name of music. To characterize it as merely “strummings and squealings” because it does not conform to our ideas, is, however, an unfair aspersion. The fact is that it is based upon a scale which differs from that which we use, one of its peculiarities being the introduction of a semi-tone above the tonic. In the Japanese mind music is so closely related to the sister arts of poetry and dancing that neither can well be treated separately. As Captain Brinkley tells us: “There is no Japanese music that will not serve as accompaniment for the Japanese stanza, and the stanza, in turn, adapts itself perfectly to the fashion of the Japanese dance. The law of the unities seems to have prescribed that the cadence of the stanza should melt into the lilt of the song, and that the measure of the song should be worked out by the ‘woven paces and waving hands’ of the dance. The affinity between them is so close that it is difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends.”

Japanese poetry is also conspicuously different from that of the Occident. It is a form of word painting in brief lyrics, and “it is primarily an expression of emotion.” The odes which all Japanese learn to compose are verbal melodies which can be neither transposed nor translated. Owing to the nature of the Japanese language, there are no accented syllables, nor is there any quantity, nor any rhyme. This is well explained by Aston in his “History of Japanese Literature.” He says:—

“As every syllable ends in a vowel, and as there are only five vowels, there could only be five rhymes, the constant reiteration of which would be intolerably monotonous.... The only thing in the mechanism of Japanese poetry which distinguishes it from prose is the alternation of phrases of five and seven syllables each. It is, in fact, a species of blank verse.”

The art of dancing, which consists mainly in rhythmic posturings, often of great beauty, and requiring not only physical training of the most rigorous character but a high degree of skill, is in turn intimately associated with the histrionic art. For an account of the early dances and their gradual merging into the classical drama or dance known as Nō (literally, “accomplishment”), the reader is referred to the third volume of Captain Brinkley’s “Japan: Its History, Arts, and Literature.” Few foreigners ever learn to appreciate Japanese dancing. Its primary purpose is mimetic. “The mechanics of the dance,” says Brinkley, “are as nothing to the Japanese spectator compared with the music of its motion, and he interprets the staccato and legato of its passages with discrimination amounting almost to instinct. In exceptional cases the foreigner’s perception may be similarly subtle,” but as he must generally be unable to apprehend the esoterics of the dance, he is “like one watching a drama where an unknown plot is acted in an unintelligible language.”

As to the Japanese drama proper, it differs from our own chiefly in the stage setting and accessories, and in the greater importance given to the mimetic side of the performance.

An art essentially Japanese is that of flower arrangement. In its origin it is closely related to the Cha-no-yu, or Tea Ceremonial, which developed into a cult during the Shōgunate of Ashikaga Yoshimasa in the fifteenth century. This cult, which was founded on the four cardinal virtues of urbanity, courtesy, purity, and imperturbability, has been a mighty force in holding the Japanese true to a high standard in matters of taste, by combining “æsthetic eclecticism of the most fastidious nature with the severest canons of simplicity and austerity.” The end has been achieved not so much by the elaborate code as through what it stands for; the ceremony being in reality a gathering of connoisseurs to view works of art, each of which to win favor must meet the requirements of the most exacting taste. Out of the æsthetic necessity of making fitting disposition of the flowers introduced into the tea-room, grew the art of Ike-bana, or flower arrangement. This has gradually come to have an elaborate code of its own, and several distinct “schools” have arisen. In a general way it may be said that the art consists in arranging flowers with regard to harmonious composition of line, while keeping in mind certain poetic analogies which must not be violated, and the appearance of vitality and natural growth. Here, again, the principles of composition in painting find their application.

Still another application is found in landscape gardening, which in the hands of the Japanese is also a fine art. This too has its different “schools” and its special code of rules, formulated during the many centuries of development at the hands of successive generations of artists.

Japan is, in truth, a shining example of the essential unity of all the arts, and illustrates admirably the truth of the old saying, Natura artis magister (Nature the mistress of art). Unfortunately, what has been said in this chapter applies more to Old Japan than to the Japan of to-day. Modern Japan, whether rightly or wrongly, is becoming tired of being praised for æsthetic excellence, and is more anxious to be appraised and appreciated for its material, social, commercial, and political “progress.” To the cultivated Japanese, who regard art as the highest outcome and flowering of civilization, this tendency is not encouraging. And as to the future of Japanese art, its perpetuation must come from excluding rather than attempting to amalgamate Western ideas. In the impressive words of Okakura, the outcome will be “victory from within, or a mighty death without.”