CHAPTER FIVE. CANONS OF THE AESTHETICS OF JAPANESE PAINTING
One of the most important principles in the art of Japanese painting—indeed, a fundamental and entirely distinctive characteristic—is that called living movement, sei do, or kokoro mochi, it being, so to say, the transfusion into the work of the felt nature of the thing to be painted by the artist. Whatever the subject to be translated—whether river or tree, rock or mountain, bird or flower, fish or animal—the artist at the moment of painting it must feel its very nature, which, by the magic of his art, he transfers into his work to remain forever, affecting all who see it with the same sensations he experienced when executing it.
This is not an imaginary principle but a strictly enforced law of Japanese painting. The student is incessantly admonished to observe it. Should his subject be a tree, he is urged when painting it to feel the strength which shoots through the branches [pg 78] and sustains the limbs. Or if a flower, to try to feel the grace with which it expands or bows its blossoms. Indeed, nothing is more constantly urged upon his attention than this great underlying principle, that it is impossible to express in art what one does not first feel. The Romans taught their actors that they must first weep if they would move others to tears. The Greeks certainly understood the principle, else how did they successfully invest with imperishable life their creations in marble?
In Japan the highest compliment to an artist is to say he paints with his soul, his brush following the dictates of his spirit. Japanese painters frequently repeat the precept:
Waga kokoro waga te wo yaku
Waga te waga kokoro ni ozuru.
Our spirit must make our hand its servitor;
Our hand must respond to each behest of our spirit.
The Japanese artist is taught that even to the placing of a dot in the eyeball of a tiger he must first feel the savage, cruel, feline character of the beast, and only under such influence should he apply the brush. If he paint a storm, he must at the moment realize passing over him the very tornado which tears up trees from their roots and houses from their foundations. Should he depict the seacoast with its cliffs and moving waters, at the moment of putting the wave-bound rocks into the picture he must feel that they are being placed there to resist the fiercest movement of the ocean, while to the waves in turn he must give an irresistible power to carry all before them; thus, by [pg 79] this sentiment, called living movement (sei do), reality is imparted to the inanimate object. This is one of the marvelous secrets of Japanese painting, handed down from the great Chinese painters and based on psychological principles—matter responsive to mind. Chikudo, the celebrated tiger painter [(Plate VI)], studied and pondered so long over the savage expression in the eye of the tiger in order to reproduce its fierceness that, it is related, he became at one time mentally unbalanced, but his paintings of tigers are inimitable. They exemplify sei do.
From what has been said it will be appreciated why, in a Japanese painting, so much value is attached to the strength with which the brush strokes are executed (fude no chicara), to the varying lights and shades of the sumi (boku shoku), to their play and sheen (tsuya), and to the manifestation of the artist's power according to the principle of living movement (sei do). In a European painting such considerations have no place.
An oil painting can be rubbed out and done over time and again until the artist is satisfied. A sumi e or ink painting must be executed once and for all time and without hesitation, and no corrections are permissible or possible. Any brush stroke on paper or silk painted over a second time results in a smudge; the life has left it. All corrections show when the ink dries.
Japanese artists are not bound down to the literal presentation of things seen. They have a canon, called esoragoto, which means literally an [pg 80] invented picture, or a picture into which certain invention fictions are painted.
Every painting to be effective must be esoragoto; that is, there must enter therein certain artistic liberties. It should aim not so much to reproduce the exact thing as its sentiment, called kokoro mochi, which is the moving spirit of the scene. It must not be a facsimile.
When we look at a painting which pleases us what is the cause or source of our satisfaction? Why does such painting give us oftentimes more satisfaction than the scene itself which it recalls? It is largely because of esoragoto or the admixture of invention (the artistic unreality) with the unartistic reality; the poetic handling or treatment of what in the original may in some respects be commonplace.
A correctly executed Japanese painting in sumi called sumi e, is essentially a false picture so far as color goes, where anything in it not black is represented. Hence, sumi paintings of landscapes, flowers and trees, are untrue as to color, and the art lies in making things thus represented seem the opposite of what they appear and cause the sentiment of color to be felt through a medium which contains no color. This is esoragoto.
It is related that Okubo Shibutsu, famous for painting bamboo, was requested to execute a kakemono representing a bamboo forest. Consenting, he painted with all his known skill a picture in which the entire bamboo grove was in red. The patron upon its receipt marveled at the extraordinary [pg 81] skill with which the painting had been executed, and, repairing to the artist's residence, he said: “Master, I have come to thank you for the picture; but, excuse me, you have painted the bamboo red.” “Well,” cried the master, “in what color would you desire it?” “In black, of course,” replied the patron. “And who,” answered the artist, “ever saw a black-leaved bamboo?” This story well illustrates esoragoto. The Japanese are so accustomed to associate true color with what the sumi stands for that not only is fiction in this respect permissible but actually missed when not employed. In a landscape painting effects are frequently introduced which are not to be found in the scene sketched. The false or fictitious is added to heighten the effect. This is esoragoto— the privileged departure, the false made to seem true. In a landscape a tree is often found to occupy an unfortunate place or there is no tree where its presence would heighten the effect. Here the artist will either suppress or add it, according to the necessities of treatment. Not every landscape is improved by trees or plantations; nor, indeed, is every view containing trees a type scene for landscape treatment. Hence, certain liberties are conceded the artist provided only the effect is pleasing and satisfactory and that no probabilities seem violated. This is esoragoto. Horace understood this and lays it down as a fundamental principle in art: “Quid libet audendi”. The artist will oftentimes see from a point of view impossible in nature, but if the result is pleasing the liberty is accorded. Sesshu, one of the greatest landscape [pg 82] painters of Japan, on returning to his own country after having studied some years in China, made a painting of his native village with its temple and temple groves, winding river and pagoda or five-roofed tower. His attention being subsequently called to the fact that in this village there was no tower or pagoda, he exclaimed that there ought to be one to make the landscape perfect, and thereupon he had the tower constructed at his own expense. He had painted in the pagoda unconsciously. This was esoragoto.
There are no people in the world who have a higher idea of the dignity of art than the Japanese and it is a principle with them that every painting worthy of the name should reflect that dignity, should testify to its own worth and thus justly impress with sentiments of admiration those to whom it may be shown. This intrinsic loftiness, elevation or worth is known in their art by the term ki in. Without this quality the painting, artistically considered and critically judged, must be pronounced a failure. Such picture may be perfect; in proportion and design, correct in brush force and faultless in color scheme; it may have complied with the principles of in yo, and ten, chi, jin or heaven, earth and man; it may have scrupulously observed all the rules of lines, dots and ledges and yet if ki in be wanting the painting has failed as a work of true art. What is this subtle something called ki in?
In our varied experiences of life we all have met with noble men and women whose beautiful and [pg 83] elevating characters have impressed us the moment we have been brought into relation with them. The same quality which thus affects us in persons is what the Japanese understand by ki in in a painting. It is that indefinable something which in every great work suggests elevation of sentiment, nobility of soul. From the earliest times the great art writers of China and Japan have declared that this quality, this manifestation of the spirit, can neither be imparted nor acquired. It must be innate. It is, so to say, a divine seed implanted in the soul by the Creator, there to unfold, expand and blossom, testifying its hidden residence with greater or lesser charm according to the life spent, great principles adhered to and ideals realized. Such is what the Japanese understand by ki in. It is, I think, akin to what the Romans meant by divinus afflatus—that divine and vital breath, that emanation of the soul, which vivifies and ennobles the work and renders it immortal. And it is a striking commentary upon artist life in Japan that many of the great artists of the Tosa and Kano schools, in the middle years of their active lives, retired from the world, shaved their heads, and, taking the titular rank of hogen, hoin or hokyo, became Buddhist priests and entered monasteries, there to pass their remaining days, dividing their time between meditation and inspired work that they might leave in dying not only spotless names but imperishable monuments raised to the honor and glory of Japanese art.
CHAPTER SIX. SUBJECTS FOR JAPANESE PAINTING
(gwa dai)
A Japanese artist will never of his own accord paint a flower out of season or a spring landscape in autumn; the fitness of things insensibly influences him. From ancient times certain principles have determined his choice of subjects, according either to the period of the year or to the festivals, ceremonies, entertainments or other events he may be required to commemorate. All such subjects are called gwa dai. As one without some knowledge of these cannot appreciate much that is interesting about art customs in Japan, a brief reference to them will be made, beginning with those subjects suitable to the different months of the year:
January—For New Year's day (sho gwatsu gwan jitsu) favorite subjects are “the sun rising above the ocean,” called hi no de ni nami ([Plate LIV] No. 1); “Mount Horai” (2), “the sun with storks and tortoises” (3, 4, 5); or “Fukurokuju,” [pg 85 ] a god of good luck. Many meanings are associated with these subjects. The sun never changes and the ocean is ever changing, hence in yo is symbolized. The sun, the ocean and the circumambient air symbolize ten chi jin or the universe. Horai (san) is a symbol for Japan. It is the lofty mountain on a fabled island in the distant sea, referred to in early Chinese writings, inhabited by sages (sen nin), and containing the pine, bamboo and plum (known in art as sho, chiku, bai), the pine standing for longevity, the bamboo for rectitude and the plum blossom for fragrance and grace. The stork and the tortoise, whose back is covered with seaweed, both typify long life, the ancient saying being that the stork lives for one thousand and the tortoise for ten thousand years (tsuru wa sen nen, kame wa man nen). Fukurokuju is one of the seven gods of good luck, whose name means happiness, wealth and long life. On New Year's day are suspended on either side of his picture bamboo and plum subjects ([Plate LV], 1, 2, 3). This jovial god's name is sometimes happily interpreted by a triple kakemono (san buku tsui): The middle one is the sun and waves, for long life (ju); on the right, rice grains, for wealth (roku), and on the left the flower of the cotton plant, for happiness (fuku), because its corolla is golden and its fruit silvery, the gold and silver suggesting felicity ([Plate LVI], 1, 2, 3). This makes a charming combination. An excursion into the fields of Chinese philology in connection with the name of this god of good luck would unfold some wonderful word picturing. [pg 86] Traced to their hieroglyphical beginnings, fuku signifies blessings from heaven; roku, rank, commemorated in carving, and (ju), agricultural pursuits, associated with white hair.
An especially appropriate picture for this season of great festivity is called “the pine at the gate” (kado matsu). It commemorates the custom on the first day of the year of planting pine trees at the entrance to Japanese public buildings and private residences. From the rope (shimenawa) ([Plate LV], 4) are suspended strips of white paper (gohei) typifying purity of the soul; these hang in groups of three, five and seven, the odd or lucky number series associated with the positive or male principle (yo) of in yo. Another appropriate subject for this early season of the year is rice cakes (mochi) in the shapes of the sun and full moon ([Plate LV], 5). In the picture the fruit called dai dai is placed on the top of the rice cakes, the word dai meaning ages, hence associated with longevity. At the base of the stand is a prawn (ebi). This equally suggests old age because the prawn is bent in two. The leaf of the yuzuri is introduced because it is an auspicious word and means succession. The picture of a battledoor and shuttlecock (hagoita) is also appropriate for New Year as it commemorates the ancient practice of the Japanese indulging in that pastime on that day ([Plate LVI], 4).
During January a very popular picture for the alcove (tokonoma) is the treasureship, called taka-rabune ([Plate LVI], 5). The vessel as it sails into port is heavily laden with all of the various tools [pg 87] and utensils typifying great wealth to be found in the capacious bag of Dai Koku, a Japanese god of good luck. These are a ball, a hammer, weights, cloves, silver bronze, and the god's raincoat and hat. On the evening of the second of January if the painting of a treasureship be put under the pillow and one dreams of either Fujisan, a falcon or an eggplant, the year long he will be fortunate. It will be observed that on the sail of the treasure boat is inscribed the Chinese character for takara, meaning treasure. On the seventh day of January occurs the first of the five holidays, called go sekku, and vegetable subjects are painted. These are called the seven grasses (hotoke za or nana kusa) and consist of parsley, shepherd's purse, chickweed, saint's seat, wild turnip and radish. They are susceptible of most artistic treatment and ingenious, original designs are often evolved ([Plate LVII], 6).
February—The cock and the hen, with the budding plum branch, are now appropriate. The subject is known as the “plum and chickens” (ume ni tori) ([Plate LVII], 1). The chicken figures in the earliest history of Japan. When the cock crows the Japanese hear the words kokka koo, which, phonetically rendered into Chinese characters, read “happiness to our entire land.” The Chinese hear differently. To them the cock crows toten ko, meaning “the eastern heavens are reddening,” so to them the cock heralds the early morn. Famous paintings of chickens have come from the brushes of Okyo, Tessan ([Plate III]), and others of the Maruyama school. During February, the month of the [pg 88] plum, the appropriate paintings are of that flower and the Japanese warbler (ume ni uguisu) ([Plate LVII], 2). This singing bird announces the spring with its melodious notes (hoho kekyo), which, rendered by the Buddhist into Chinese characters, give the name of the principal book of the eighteen volumes of Shaka, entitled, “the marvelous law of the lotus.” Another picture suitable to February is known as “the last of the snow” (zan setsu) ([Plate LVII], 3).
March—This month is associated with the peach blossom, and kakemono of gardens containing peach trees, called momo no en ([Plate LVII], 4), are in favor. Toba Saku is related to have lived eight thousand years subsisting upon the fruit of the peach; hence, the peach blossom is a symbol for longevity, and sake made from the fruit is drunk throughout Japan in March. One of the most famous prose writings in Chinese literature is ran-tei kioka sui. It commemorates a pastime of the learned, called “the sake cup.” A favorite way of interpreting this subject is to paint a garden of blossoming peach trees and spreading banana palms bordering a flowing stream, with a nobleman attaching to a peach branch a narrow paper (tanjaku) upon which he has written a poem. Another famous Chinese prose composition, “the peach and apricot garden festival,” written by Ri Tai Haku at the age of fourteen years, is interpreted by depicting Toba Saku in a garden seated before a table, with three Chinese beauties attendant upon him, with celebrated scholars and sages [pg 89] circulating midst the flowers and blossoms. Five principal festivals of the year, known as go sekku, occur respectively on the seventh day of January, the third day of March, the fifth day of May, the seventh day of July and the ninth day of September—all being on the odd days of the odd months (the yo of in yo). On the third day of the third month is the hina matsuri festival for young girls, and the appropriate painting for the occasion is called kami bina, meaning paper dolls ([Plate LVII], 5). The greatest Japanese artists of the past have vied to make their treatment of this subject superb. When a female child is born a kami bina painting is presented to the family to contribute to the festivities. The month of March is the month of the cherry blossom (sakura bana), and the picture on [Plate LVIII], 1, illustrates one method of painting cherry trees ornamenting the mountainside of a canyon, through which flows a river. During March picnic parties go upon the beach at low tide to gather shell-fish. The subject illustrated on [Plate LVIII], 2, called ebb-tide (shio hi), is appropriate. The picture of the maiden Saohime ([Plate LVIII], 3) is also painted in March.
April—The wistaria flower (Juji) is associated with the fourth month and all April landscapes represent the trees covered with much foliage. A small bird called sudachi dori, hatched in this month, is often painted on the wistaria branch ([Plate LVIII], 4). The picture typifies parental affection, on account of the known solicitude of the mother bird for its young.
May—There are many subjects appropriate for May. The iris (shobu) ([Plate LVIII], 5) now makes its appearance. Its long-bladed leaves are sword shaped, therefore the plant symbolizes the warrior spirit (bushi). The iris is often planted upon the roof of a house to indicate that there are male children in the family. The cuckoo and the moon subject (tsuki ni hototogisu) ([Plate LVIII], 6) is special to this month. The fifth of May is the boys' festival, and the carp (koi) ([Plate LIX], 1) is the favorite subject for painting. May is the rainy month in Japan. It is related that a carp during this month ascended to the top of the waterfall ryu mon in China and became a dragon. The carp thus typifies the triumph of perseverance—the conquering of obstacles—and symbolizes the military spirit. When this fish is caught and about to be cut up alive for sasshimi, a Japanese delicacy, once the carver has passed the flat side of the knife blade over the body of the fish the koi becomes motionless, and with heroic fortitude submits to being sliced to the backbone. Served in a dish, a few drops of soy being placed in its eye it leaps upward in a last struggle, to fall apart in many pieces. When a male child is born a proper present to the family is a carp kakemono. The fifth day of the fifth month is the anniversary of the great victory of the Japanese over Kublai Khan, who, with an enormous fleet of Chinese vessels, attempted to invade Japan in the thirteenth century.
June—In this warm month the gwa dai or picture subject is waterfalls ([Plate LIX], 2), although it is [pg 91] quite allowable on account of the heat of summer to suggest cool feelings by painting snow scenes with crows (setchu ni karasu) for a color contrast ([Plate LIX], 3). All pictures painted during the month of June should suggest shady, refreshing sensations. A charming and favorite subject is water flowing through an open bamboo pipe and falling amid luxuriant vegetation into a pool below, where a little bird is bathing. This picture is technically known as kakehi ([Plate LIX], 4).
July—During this month appropriate among flower subjects is that of the seven grasses of autumn (aki no nana kusa) ([Plate LIX], 6), consisting of the bush clover, the wild pink, the morning glory, et cetera. This is most difficult to paint on account of the extreme delicacy requisite in the handling of the brush, but a skilful artist can produce most interesting effects. All sorts of wonderfully shaped insects as well as birds of brilliant plumage are permitted in the picture. The seventh day of July is known as the festival of the stars, and Kengyu, the swain, and Orihime, the maiden, are painted. July is a month devoted to Buddhist ceremonies. Saints, sages, the five hundred rakkan disciples of Shaka and the sixteen rakkans are painted. There are two other subjects appropriate, known as Tanabata ([Plate LIX], 5) and Nazunauchi ([Plate LXIV], 4).
August—The first grain of the year is now offered to the gods. A charming way of commemorating this is by the painting called stacked rice and sparrows (inamura ni suzume) ([Plate LX], 1). The rabbit and the moon, called tsuki ni usagi [pg 92] ([Plate LX], 2), because the rabbit is seen in the moon making rice cakes, and the picture known as meggetsu ([Plate LX], 3) also commemorate the offering of the products of the soil to the moon divinity. As mist abounds during August, landscapes half concealed in mist are painted. The Kano artist, Tanyu, leaned much to such scenes, which suggest the tranquility of eventide. Such subjects are known as mist showers (ugiri) ([Plate LX], 4). The Japanese have their woman in the moon, named Joga. This lovely creature having procured and drunk of the ambrosia of hermits (sennin) is said to have entered that planet. The picture is an engaging one ([Plate LX], 6), the upper portion of Joga's body being in the moon's disc and the lower portion in fleecy clouds.
September—The ninth day of the ninth month is the festival of the chrysanthemum (kiku no sekku), when sake made from the chrysanthemum is drunk. Kiku Jido, a court youth, having inadvertently touched with his foot the pillow of the emperor, was banished to a distant isle where, it is said, he was nourished by the dew of the chrysanthemum which abounded there. Becoming a hermit, he lived one thousand years. Seasonal pictures for this month commemorate this event, or reproduce the yellow and white chrysanthemum. ([Plate LXI], 1). Appropriate for September are water grasses and the dragon-fly (mizukusa ni tombo) ([Plate LXI], 5). Tatsuta hime ([Plate LXI], 2) is also painted. She is the autumn divinity, associated with the brilliant, warm and resplendent colors of the autumn season, [pg 93] and is always represented in gorgeous hues. Pictures of the deer and the early maples (hatsu momiji ni shika) ([Plate LXI], 3) are now appropriate. A favorite autumn picture is called Kinuta uchi, or the beating, on a block, of homespun cotton to give it lustre. A poor peasant woman and her child are both occupied at the task under the rays of the full moon ([Plate LXIV], 4). The sound of the blows on the block is said to suggest sad feelings. It is a law for painting such moonlight scenes that no red color be introduced, as red does not show in the moonlight (gekka no ko shoku nashi).
Fujiyama from Tago no Ura, by Yamamoto Baietsu. Plate VIII.
October—In this month geese coming from the cold regions and crossing at night the face of the moon are a favorite subject, known as tsuki ni gan ([Plate LXI], 4). Other subjects are “autumn fruits” (aki no mi) ([Plate LXI], 5), chestnuts, persimmons, grapes and mushrooms; monkeys and persimmons (saru ni kaki) ([Plate LXI], 6); squirrel and grapes (risu ni budo) ([Plate LXII], 1); and the evergreen pine (kayenu matsu), suggesting constancy ([Plate LXII], 2)
November—A month sacred to Evesco, one of the jovial gods of good luck ([Plate LXII], 3). He was the first trader, his stock being the tai fish. He is the favorite god of the merchants who, during this month, celebrate his festival. Evesama is usually represented returning from fishing with a tai under his arm. The Kano artists particularly favored this subject. Another charming picture, known as “the last of the chrysanthemums” (zan kiku) ([Plate LXII], 4), suggests the approaching close of the year. The classic way to represent this subject [pg 94] is with small, yellow chrysanthemums clinging to a straggling bamboo fence, with a few of their leaves which have begun to turn crimson. Another November picture is “the first snow” (hatsu yuki) ([Plate LXII], 5). Two puppies are frollicking in the snow, which is falling for the first time. It is said that no animal rejoices like the dog when it sees the first snowfall of winter. Snow, says a proverb, is the dog's grandmother (yuki wa inu no obasan). Okyo and Hokusai frequently painted this subject. Hatsu yuki is sometimes represented by a little snow upon the pine tree or the bamboo in a landscape. This produces a very lonely (samushii) scene. The Kyoto artists are extremely fond of painting in the month of November the subject of a peasant girl descending from the mountain village of Ohara carrying upon her head a bundle of firewood twigs, into which she has coquettishly inserted a branch of red maple leaves. This picture is called Oharame ([Plate LXII], 6). Landscapes representing fitful rain showers are appropriate for November and are called shigure. This is the month for the oshi dori ([Plate LXIII], 1). These mandarin ducks, male and female, on account of the contrast in their shape and plumage, make a very striking and favorite picture. Their devotion to each other is so great that they die if separated. Hence, such paintings not only symbolize conjugal fidelity but are also appropriate as wedding presents. There are two other kinds of birds painted in November: The beach birds, known as chi dori ([Plate LXIII], 2), and the wild duck flying over the marsh grasses (kamo ni ashi) ([Plate LXIII], 3). [pg 95] Okyo and the artists of his school excel in their vivid treatment of these last three subjects.
December—The cold weather chrysanthemum (kan kiku), the narcissus or hermit of the stream (sui sen), and the snow shelter of rice straw (yuki kakoi) ([Plate LXIII], 4) are three favorites for December. In this latter lovely subject the white chrysanthemums are huddling below the protecting snow shelter of rice straw, one or two of the flowers peeping out, their leaves being reddish on the rim and light green within. The narcissus is much painted during December. There are many ways and laws for painting this flower. Another winter subject is called joji bai, consisting of the plum tree with snow on the branches and small birds perched thereon. Kyoto artists much favor it. December landscapes are all snow scenes (yuki no san sui) ([Plate LXIII], 5) and countless are the ways in which they are treated. Another subject is nukume dori—a falcon perched upon a tree covered with snow, holding in its claws a little bird ([Plate LXIV], 3). The falcon does not tear its victim to pieces but simply uses it to warm its own feet; this accomplished, it lets its prisoner escape and during twenty-four hours refrains from flying in the direction the little bird has fled. Noblesse oblige.
The snow man or snow daruma (yuki daruma) ([Plate LXIII], 6) is painted this month by artists of all the schools.
The four seasons (shi ki) form a series susceptible of the most varied and engaging treatment and presentation. The seasons are sometimes symbolized [pg 96] by flowers, occasionally by birds, again by the products of the earth, and often by landscapes.
Sometimes human figures are used for the purpose. In spring (haru) a young daughter (musume) may be represented looking at the cherry blossoms ([Plate LXV], 1); in summer (natsu) she will be crossing a bridge or enjoying the cool of the riverside ([Plate LXV], 2); in autumn (aki) she is seen in the fields, probably gathering mushrooms ([Plate LXV], 3), and in winter (fuyu) she will be seated indoors playing a musical instrument ([Plate LXV], 4). While the other kakemono is always to be changed in the tokonoma or alcove according to the seasons, ceremonies or festivals, there are certain pictures appropriate to any season, e. g., rocks and waves (iwa ni nami); pine and bamboo (matsu take); or the Okyo double subject called shikuzu ni fuku tsui (pendant paintings): The end of spring, a crow and the plum tree ([Plate LXIV], 1); the end of autumn, the bird hyo dori and the persimmon tree ([Plate LXIV], 2). The reason is that all such subjects are in harmony with conditions the year round.
Historical subjects (rekishi gwa dai) suitable for Japanese painting are extremely numerous subjects and are divided into categories corresponding to the following periods: The Nara, the Heian or Kyoto, the Kamakura Yoritomo shogunate, the Higashiyama shogunate, the Yoshimasa shogunate, the Momoyama or Taiko Hideyoshi, and the Tokugawa Iyeyasu shogunate brought down to the present Meiji period. These with their numerous subdivisions supply an infinite number of subjects for [pg 97] pictorial treatment. Special favorites are “Benkei and Yoshitsune at the Go Jo bridge,” or “passing through the Hakone barrier,” and “Kusanoki Masashige at Minatogawa.”
When Shaka was born he stood erect, with one Buddhist hand pointing upward and the other downward and exclaimed: “Behold, between heaven and earth I am the most precious creation.” His birthday is the subject of the picture ([Plate LXVI], 3) called kan butsu ye. It represents the Buddha as a bronze statue erect in a tub of sweet liquid. This the faithful worshippers pour over his head and subsequently drink for good luck. Shaka's death is commemorated in the picture called nehan, nirvana. The lord, Buddha, is stretched upon a bier tranquilly dying, an angelic smile lighting his countenance, while around are gathered his disciples, Rakkan and Bosatsu, and the different animals of creation, all weeping. A rat having gone to call Mayabunin, mother of Buddha, has been pounced upon by a cat and torn to pieces. For this reason in paintings of this moving scene of Shaka's death no cat is to be found among the mourning animals. The artist Cho Densu, however, in his great painting of nehan (still preserved in the Temple To Fuku Ji at Kyoto) introduces the portrait of a cat. It is related that, while Cho Densu was painting, the cat came daily to his side and continually mewing and expressing its grief, would not leave him. Finally Cho Densu, out of pity, painted the cat into the picture and thereupon the animal out of joy fell over dead.
The lotus (hasu) symbolizes the heart of a saint (hotoke). It rises untarnished out of the mud of the pond, nor can it be stained by any impurity, the leaves always shedding whatever may fall upon them. It is painted usually as a religious subject.
The principal matsuri or Shinto festivals occur at different seasons of the year in different parts of the empire. The summer months, however, claim most of them. The Kamo no aoi matsuri takes place at Kyoto and consists of a procession, a no dance and a horse race. The picture appropriate for this festival is “the Kamo race course” (Kamo no kei ba). The matsuri at Nikko is a great procession, with three mikoshi or shrines carried on the shoulders of multitudes of men. There are three Nikko matsuri connected with the Tokugawa shogunate.
Inari, being the god of agriculture (ine, rice), the picture of a fox ([Plate LXVI], 4), that god's messenger, is appropriate. Another festival, the gyon matsuri, of Kyoto, is celebrated with a great procession in which enter all sorts of amusing floats and every kind of amusing practice. These are variously reproduced in commemorative paintings.
I will only refer in passing to the many subjects supplied by the beautiful poetry (hokku and uta) and celebrated romances (monogatari) of Japan. Enough has been said to show that the Japanese artist has an unlimited range of classic subjects from which to select.
Other subjects unassociated with any special time of the year represent, e.g., various utensils of the tea [pg 99] ceremony (cha no yu) ([Plate LXVI], 1) when macha, a thickened tea, is used. The tea ceremony ([Plate II]) is performed in a small room fitted with four and a half mats. Were the mats only four (shi) in number they would suggest death (shi). Furthermore, an even number being considered negative (in) is not favored. Mats are three by six feet in size and must always be so laid as not to form crosses, which are unlucky. In the alcove of this room no kakemono is permitted but one in the pure Japanese style. The subject of the painting will depend upon the season, while all red colors are proscribed and sumi pictures of the Kano school are most appropriate. The treatment must be simple (tan paku); for instance, a single flower spray, a branch of the plum, a hermit, or a solitary mountain peak. In the ceremony of sen cha ([Plate LXVI], 2), which is the Chinese way of making tea, these strict rules of cha no yu are relaxed.
