Title: On the Laws of Japanese Painting
Author: Bowie, Henry P.
Language: English
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                  [Fujiyama, by Murata Tanryu. Plate I.]

                   Fujiyama, by Murata Tanryu. Plate I.


                    On the Laws of Japanese Painting

            An Introduction to the study of the Art of Japan


                             Henry P. Bowie



      [Title-page design: Butterflies and Birds, known as Cho Tori]
Paul Elder and Company Publishers
1911



CONTENTS


Introduction by Iwaya Sazanami
Introduction by Hirai Kinza
Preface
CHAPTER ONE.  PERSONAL EXPERIENCES
CHAPTER TWO. ART IN JAPAN
CHAPTER THREE. LAWS FOR THE USE OF BRUSH AND MATERIALS
CHAPTER FOUR.  LAWS GOVERNING THE CONCEPTION AND EXECUTION OF A PAINTING
CHAPTER FIVE. CANONS OF THE AESTHETICS OF JAPANESE PAINTING
CHAPTER SIX. SUBJECTS FOR JAPANESE PAINTING
CHAPTER SEVEN. SIGNATURES AND SEALS
EXPLANATION OF HEAD-BANDS
PLATES EXPLANATORY OF THE FOREGOING TEXT ON THE LAWS OF JAPANESE PAINTING
Footnotes



ILLUSTRATIONS


Fujiyama, by Murata Tanryu. Plate I.
The Tea Ceremony, by Miss Uyemura Shoen. Plate II.
Chickens in Spring, by Mori Tessan. Plate III.
Snow Scene in Kaga, by Kubota Beisen.  Plate IV.
Tree Squirrel, by Mochizuki Kimpo.  Plate V.
Tiger, by Kishi Chikudo.  Plate VI.
Bamboo, Sparrow and Rain.  Plate VII.
Fujiyama from Tago no Ura, by Yamamoto Baietsu.  Plate VIII.
Most Careful Method of Laying on Color.  Plate VIIII.
The Next Best Method. Plate X.
The Light Water-Color Method. Plate XI.
Color With Outlines Suppressed. Plate XII.
Color Over Lines. Plate XIII.
Light Reddish-Brown Method. Plate XIV.
The White Pattern. Plate XV.
The Black or Sumi Method. Plate XVI.
The Rule of Proportion in Landscapes. Plate XVII.
Heaven, Earth, Man. Plate XVIII.
Pine Tree Branches. Plate XIX.
Winding Streams. Plate XX.
A Tree and Its Parts. Plate XXI.
Bird and Its Subdivisions. Plate XXII.
Peeled Hemp-Bark Method for Rocks and Ledges (a) The Axe strokes (b).
Plate XXIII.
Lines or Veins of Lotus Leaf (a). Alum Crystals (b). Plate XXIV.
Loose Rice Leaves (a). Withered Kindling Twigs (b). Plate XXV.
Scattered Hemp Leaves (a). Wrinkles on the Cow’s Neck (b). Plate XXVI.
The Circle (1). Semi-Circle (2). Fish Scales (3). Moving Fish Scales (4).
Plate XXVII.
Theory of Tree Growth (1). Practical Application (2). Grass Growth in
Theory (3). In Practice (4). Plate XXVIII.
Skeleton of a Forest Tree (1) Same Developed (2). Tree Completed in
structure (3). Plate XXIX.
Perpendicular Lines for Rocks (1). Horizontal Lines for Rocks (2).  Rock
Construction as Practiced in Art (3 and 4). Plate XXX.
Different Ways of Painting Rocks and Ledges. Plate XXXI.
Wistaria Dot (a). Chrysanthemum Dot (b). Plate XXXII.
Wheel-Spoke Dot (a). KAI JI Dot (b). Plate XXXIII.
Pepper-Seed Dot (a). Mouse-Footprint Dot (b). Plate XXXIV.
Serrated Dot (a). ICHI JI dot (b). Plate XXXV.
Heart Dot (a). HITSU JI Dot (b). Plate XXXVI.
Rice Dot (a). HAKU YO Dot (b). Plate XXXVII.
Waves (a). Different Kinds of Moving Waters (b). Plate XXXVIII.
Sea Waves (a). Brook Waves (b). Plate XXXIX.
Storm Waves. Plate XL.
Silk-Thread Line (upper). Koto string Line (lower). Plate XLI.
Clouds, Water Lines (upper). Iron-Wire Line (lower). Plate XLII.
Nail-Head, Rat-Tail Line (upper). Tsubone Line (lower). Plate XLIII.
Willow-Leaf Line (upper). Angle-Worm Line (lower). Plate XLIV.
Rusty-Nail and Old-Post Line (upper).   Date-Seed Line (lower). Plate XLV.
Broken-Reed Line (upper). Gnarled-Knot Line (lower). Plate XLVI.
Whirling-Water Line (upper). Suppression Line (lower). Plate XLVII.
Dry-Twig Line (upper). Orchid-Leaf Line (lower). Plate XLVIII.
Bamboo-Leaf Line (upper). Mixed style (lower). Plate XLIX.
The Plum Tree and Blossom. Plate L.
The Chrysanthemum Flower and Leaves. Plate LI.
The Orchid Plant and Flower. Plate LII.
The Bamboo Plant and Leaves. Plate LIII.
Sunrise Over the Ocean (1). Horai San (2). Sun, storks and Tortoise (3, 4,
5). Plate LIV.
Fuku Roku Ju (1). The Pine Tree (2). Bamboo and Plum (3). Kado Matsu and
Shimenawa (4). Rice Cakes (5). Plate LV.
Sun and Waves (1).  Rice Grains(2). Cotton Plant (3). Battledoor (4).
Treasure Ship (5). Plate LVI.
Chickens and the Plum Tree (1). Plum and Song Bird (2). Last of the Snow
(3). Peach Blossoms (4). Paper Dolls (5). Nana Kusa (6). Plate LVII.
Cherry Trees (1). Ebb Tide (2). Saohime (3). Wistaria (4). Iris (5). Moon
and Cuckoo (6). Plate LVIII.
Carp (1). Waterfall (2). Crow and Snow (3). Kakehi (4). Tanabata (5).
Autumn Grasses (6). Plate LIX.
Stacked Rice and Sparrows (1). Rabbit in the Moon (2). Megetsu (3). Mist
Showers (4). Water Grasses (5). Joga (6). Plate LX.
Chrysanthemum (1). Tatsutahime (2). Deer and Maples (3). Geese and the
Moon (4). Fruits of Autumn (5). Monkey and Persimmons (6). Plate LXI.
Squirrel and Grapes (1). Kayenu Matsu (2). Evesco or Ebisu (3). Zan Kiku
(4). First Snow (5). Oharame (6). Plate LXII.
Mandarin Ducks (1). Chi Dori (2). Duck Flying (3). Snow Shelter (4). Snow
Scene (5). Snow Daruma (6). Plate LXIII.
Crow and Plum (1). Bird and Persimmon (2). Nukume Dori (3). Kinuta uchi
(4). Plate LXIV.
Spring (1). Summer (2). Autumn (3). Winter (4). Plate LXV.
Cha no Yu (1). Sen Cha (2). Birth of Buddha (3). Inari (4). Plate LXVI.



DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF KUBOTA BEISEN A GREAT ARTIST AND A KINDLY MAN,
WHOSE HAPPINESS WAS IN HELPING OTHERS AND WHOSE TRIUMPHANT CAREER HAS SHED
ENDURING LUSTRE UPON THE ART OF JAPANESE PAINTING



_ __ __ _


_INTRODUCTION BY IWAYA SAZANAMI_(_1_)


_ __ _

_ First of all, I should state that in the year 1909 I accompanied the
Honorable Japanese Commercial Commissioners in their visit to the various
American capitals and other cities of the United states, where we were met
with the heartiest welcome, and for which we all felt the most profound
gratitude.  We were all so happy, but I was especially so; indeed, it
would be impossible to be more happy than I felt, and particularly was
this true of one day, namely, the twenty-seventh of November of the year
named, when Henry P. Bowie, Esq., invited us to his residence in San
Mateo, where we found erected by him a Memorial Gate to commemorate our
victories in the Japanese-Russian War; and its dedication had been
reserved for this day of our visit.  Suspended above the portals was a
bronze tablet inscribed with letters written by my late father, Ichi Roku.
The evening of that same day we were invited by our host to a reception
extended to us in San Francisco by the Japan Society of America, where I
had the honor of delivering a short address on Japanese folk-lore.  In
adjoining halls was exhibited a large collection of Japanese writings and
paintings, the latter chiefly the work of the artist, Kubota Beisen, while
the writings were from the brush of my deceased father, between whom and
Mr. Bowie there existed the relations of the warmest friendship and mutual
esteem. _

_ _

_ Two years or more have passed and I am now in receipt of information
from Mr. Shimada Sekko that Mr. Bowie is about to publish a work upon the
laws of Japanese painting and I am requested to write a preface to the
same.  I am well aware how unfitted I am for such an undertaking, but in
view of all I have here related I feel I am not permitted to refuse. _

_ _

_ Indeed, it seems to me that the art of our country has for many years
past been introduced to the public of Europe and America in all sorts of
ways, and hundreds of books about Japanese art have appeared in several
foreign languages; but I have been privately alarmed for the reason that a
great many such books contain either superficial observations made during
sightseeing sojourns of six months or a year in our country or are but
hasty commentaries, compilations, extracts or references, chosen here and
there from other __ volumes.  All work of this kind must be considered
extremely superficial.  But Mr. Bowie has resided many years in Japan.  He
thoroughly understands our institutions and national life; he is
accustomed to our ways, and is fully conversant with our language and
literature, and he understands both our arts of writing and painting.
Indeed, I feel he knows about such matters more than many of my own
countrymen; added to this, his taste is instinctively well adapted to the
Oriental atmosphere of thought and is in harmony with Japanese ideals.
And it is he who is the author of the present volume.  To others a labor
of the kind would be very great; to Mr. Bowie it is a work of no such
difficulty, and it must surely prove a source of priceless instruction not
only to Europeans and Americans, but to my own countrymen, who will learn
not a little from it.  Ah, how fortunate do we feel it to be that such a
book will appear in lands so far removed from our native shores.  Now that
I learn that Mr. Bowie has written this book the happiness of two years
ago is again renewed, and from this far-off country I offer him my warmest
congratulations, with the confident hope that his work will prove
fruitfully effective. _

                                                 _ _ _ _ _ Iwaya Sho Ha, _
_ _ _ Tokyo, Japan,_
_August 17, 1911 _
_ _
_ _



_ __ __ _


_INTRODUCTION BY HIRAI KINZA_(_2_)_ _


_ __ _

_ Seventeen years ago, at a time when China and Japan were crossing
swords, Mr. Henry P. Bowie came to me in Kyoto requesting that I instruct
him in the Japanese language and in the Chinese written characters.  I
consented and began his instruction.  I was soon astonished by his
extraordinary progress and could hardly believe his language and writing
were not those of a native Japanese.  As for the Chinese written
characters, we learn them only to know their meaning and are not
accustomed to investigate their hidden significance; but Mr. Bowie went so
thoroughly into the analysis of their forms, strokes and pictorial values
that his knowledge of the same often astounded and silenced my own
countrymen.  In addition to this, having undertaken to study Japanese
painting, he placed himself under one of our most celebrated artists and,
daily working with unabated zeal, in a comparatively short time made
marvelous progress in that art.  At one of our public art expositions he
exhibited a painting of pigeons flying across a bamboo grove which was
greatly admired and praised by everyone, but no one could believe that
this was the work of a foreigner.  At the conclusion of the exposition he
was awarded a diploma attesting his merit.  Many were the persons who
coveted the painting, but as it had been originally offered to me, I still
possess it.  From time to time I refresh my eyes with the work and with
much pleasure exhibit it to my friends.  Frequently after this Mr. Bowie,
always engaged in painting remarkable pictures in the Japanese manner,
would exhibit them at the various art exhibitions of Japan, and was on two
occasions specially honored by our Emperor and Empress, both of whom
expressed the wish to possess his work, and Mr. Bowie had the honor of
offering the same to our Imperial Majesties. _

_ _

_ His reputation soon spread far and wide and requests for his paintings
came in such numerous quantities that to comply his time was occupied
continuously. _

_ _

_ Now he is about to publish a work on Japanese painting to enlighten and
instruct the people of Western nations upon our art.  As I believe such a
book must have great influence in promoting sentiments of kindliness
between Japan and America, by causing the __ feelings of our people and
the conditions of our national life to be widely known, I venture to offer
a few words concerning the circumstances under which I first became
acquainted with the author. _

                                                  _ _ _ _ _ Hirai Kinza, _
_ _ _ NIHON AZUMA NO MIYAKO,_
_ Meiji-Yosa Amari Yotose-Hazuke. _
_ _
_ _



_ __ __ _


_PREFACE_


_ _

_ This volume contains the substance of lectures on on the laws and canons
of Japanese painting delivered before the Japan Society of America, the
Sketch Club of San Francisco, the Art students of stanford University, the
Saturday Afternoon Club of Santa Cruz, the Arts and Crafts Guild of San
Francisco, and the Art Institute of the University of California. _

_ _

_ The interest the subject awakened encourages the belief that a wider
acquaintance with essential principles underlying the art of painting in
Japan will result in a sound appreciation of the artist work of that
country. _

_ _

_ Japanese art terms and other words deemed important have been purposely
retained and translated for the benefit of students who may desire to
seriously pursue Japanese painting under native masters.  Those terms
printed in small capitals are Chinese in origin; all others in italics are
Japanese. _

_ _

_ All of the drawings illustrative of the text have been specially
prepared by Mr. Shimada Sekko, an artist of research and ability, who,
under David starr Jordan, has long been engaged on scientific
illustrations in connection with the Smithsonian Institution. _

_ _

_ The author apologizes for all references herein to personal experiences,
which he certainly would have omitted could he regard the following pages
as anything more than an informal introduction of the reader to the study
of Japanese painting. _

_ _



_KEN WAN CHOKU HITSU_

A firm arm and a perpendicular brush



   [Chapter 1 Head-Band: The flower and leaves of the peony (Botan), as
                conventionalized on ancient armor (yoroi)]


CHAPTER ONE.  PERSONAL EXPERIENCES


In the year 1893 I went on a short visit to Japan, and becoming interested
in much I saw there, the following year I made a second journey to that
country.  Taking up my residence in Kyoto, I determined to study and
master, if possible, the Japanese language, in order to thoroughly
understand the people, their institutions, and civilization.  My studies
began at daybreak and lasted till midday.  The afternoons being
unoccupied, it occurred to me that I might, with profit, look into the
subject of Japanese painting.  The city of Kyoto has always been the
hotbed of Japanese art.  At that time the great artist, Ko No Bairei, was
still living there, and one of his distinguished pupils, Torei Nishigawa,
was highly recommended to me as an art instructor. Bairei had declared
Torei’s ability was so great that at the age of eighteen he had learned
all he could teach him.  Torei was now over thirty years of age and a
perfect type of his kind, overflowing with skill, learning, and humor.  He
gave me my first lesson and I was simply entranced.

It was as though the skies had opened to disclose a new kingdom of art.
Taking his brush in hand, with a few strokes he had executed a
masterpiece, a loquot _(biwa)_ branch, with leaves clustering round the
ripe fruit.  Instinct with life and beauty, it seemed to have actually
grown before my eyes.  From that moment dated my enthusiasm for Japanese
painting.  I remained under Nishigawa for two years or more, working
assiduously on my knees daily from noon till nightfall, painting on silk
or paper spread out flat before me, according to the Japanese method.

Japanese painters are generally classed according to what they confine
themselves to producing. Some are known as painters of figures (JIM BUTSU)
or animals (DO BUTSU), others as painters of landscapes (SAN SUI), others
still as painters of flowers and birds (KA CHO), others as painters of
religious subjects (BUTSU GWA),  and so on.  Torei was a painter of
flowers and birds, and these executed by him are really as beautiful as
their prototypes in nature.  On _plate VII_  is given a specimen of his
work.  He is now a leading artist of Osaka, where he has done much to
revive painting in that commercial city.

As I desired to get some knowledge of Japanese landscape painting, I was
fortunate in next obtaining instruction from the distinguished Kubota
Beisen, one of the most popular and gifted artists in the empire.

In company with several of his friends and former pupils I called upon
him.  After the usual words of ceremony he was asked if he would kindly
paint something for our delight.  Without hesitation he spread a large
sheet of Chinese paper (TOSHI) him and in a few moments we beheld a crow
clinging to the branches of a persimmon tree and trying to peck at the
fruit, which was just a trifle out of reach.  The work seemed that of a
magician.  I begged him then and there to give me instruction.  He
consented, and thus began an acquaintance and friendship which lasted
until his death a few years ago. I worked faithfully under his guidance
during five years, every day of the week, including Sundays.  I never
tired; in fact, I never wanted to stop.  Every stroke of his brush seemed
to have magic in it.  _(Plate IV.)_ In many ways he was one of the
cleverest artists Japan has ever produced.  He was an author as well as a
painter, and wrote much on art.  At the summit of his renown he was
stricken hopelessly blind and died of chagrin,—he could paint no more.

While living in Tokio for a number of years I painted constantly under two
other artists—Shimada Sekko, now distinguished for fishes; and Shimada
Bokusen, a pupil of Gaho, and noted for landscape in the Kano style; so
that, after nine years in all of devotion and labor given to Japanese
painting, I was able to get a fairly good understanding of its theory and
practice.

It may seem strange that one not an Oriental should become thus interested
in Japanese painting and devote so much time and hard work to it; but the
fact is, if one seriously investigates that art he readily comes under the
sway of its fascination. As the people of Japan love art in all its
manifestations, the foreigner who paints in their manner finds a double
welcome among them; thus, ideal conditions are supplied under which the
study there of art can be pursued.

My memory records nothing but kindness in that particular.  During my long
residence in Kyoto there were constantly sent to me for my enjoyment and
instruction precious paintings by the old masters, to be replaced after a
short time by other works of the various schools.  For such attention I
was largely indebted to the late Mr. Kumagai, one of Kyoto’s most highly
esteemed citizens and art patrons.  Without multiplying instances of the
generous nature of the Japanese and their interest in the endeavors of a
foreigner to study their art, I will mention the gift from the Abbot of
Ikegami of two original dragon paintings, executed for that temple by Kano
Tanyu.  In Tokio my dwelling was the frequent rendezvous of many of the
leading artists of that city and GASSAKU painting was invariably our
principal pastime. The great poet, Fukuha Bisei, now gone, would
frequently join us, and to every painting executed he would add the
embellishment of his charming inspirations in verse, written thereon in
his inimitable _kana_ script.  This nobleman had taught the art of poetry
to H. I. M. Mutsu Hito, to the preceding Emperor, and to the present Crown
Prince.



      [Chapter 2 Head-Band: Fan-shaped leaves of the icho or gin nan
(Salisburiana), placed in books in China and Japan to prevent the ravages
                            of the bookworm.]


CHAPTER TWO. ART IN JAPAN


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).]


CHAPTER THREE. LAWS FOR THE USE OF BRUSH AND MATERIALS


Upon a subject as technical as that of Japanese painting, to endeavor to
impart correct information in a way that shall be both instructive and
entertaining is an undertaking of no little difficulty.  The rules and
canons of any art when enumerated, classified and explained, are likely to
prove trying, if not wearisome reading.  Yet, if our object be to acquire
accurate knowledge, we must consent to make some sacrifice to attain it,
and there is no royal road to a knowledge of Japanese painting.

We have little or no opportunity in America, excepting in one or two
cities, to see good specimens of the work of the great painters of Japan.
Furthermore, such work in _kakemono_ form is seen to much disadvantage
when exhibited in numbers strung along the walls of a museum.  Japanese
_kakemono_ (hanging paintings) are best viewed singly, suspended in the
recess of the _tokonoma,_ or alcove.  A certain seclusion is essential to
the enjoyment of their delicate and subtle effects; the surroundings
should be suggestive of leisure and repose, which the Japanese word
_shidzuka,_ often employed in art language, well describes.

The Japanese technique, by which I understand the established manner in
which their effects in painting are produced, differs widely from that of
European art.  The Japanese brushes _(Jude_ and _hake),_ colors and
materials influence largely the method of painting.  The canons or
standards by which Japanese art is to be judged are quite special to Japan
and are scarcely understood outside of it.  Since the subject is
technical, to treat it in a popular way is to risk the omission of much
that is essential.  I will endeavor, at any rate, to give an outline of
its fundamental principles, first saying a word or two about the tools and
materials.

In Japanese painting no oils are used. _Sumi_ (a black color in cake form)
and water-colors only are employed, while Chinese and Japanese paper and
specially prepared silk take the place of canvas or other material.

Japanese artists do not paint on easels; while at work they sit on their
heels and knees, with the paper or silk spread before them on a soft
material, called _mosen,_ which lies upon the matting or floor covering.
After one becomes accustomed to this position, he finds it gives, among
other things, a very free use of the right arm and wrist.

Silk _(e ginu)_ is prepared for painting by first attaching it with boiled
rice mucilage to a stretching frame.  A sizing of alum and light glue
(called _dosa)_ is next applied, care being taken not to wet the edges of
the silk attached to the frame, which would loosen the silk.

It has been found that paper lasts much longer than silk, and also can be
more easily restored when cracked with age.

The  artists  of the  Tosa  school  used a paper various kinds called
_tori no ko,_ into the composition of which egg-shells entered.  This
paper was a special product of Ichi Zen.

The Kano artists used both _tori no ko_ and a paper made from the mulberry
plant, also a product of Ichi Zen, and known as _hosho._  For ordinary
tracing a paper called TENGU JO is used. In Okyo’s time, Chinese paper
made from rice-plant leaves came into vogue.  It is manufactured in large
sheets and is called TOSHI. It is a light straw color, and is very
responsive to the brush stroke, except when it “catches cold,” as the
Japanese say.  It should be kept in a dry place.

The Tosa artists used paper almost to the exclusion of silk.  The Kano
school largely employed silk for their paintings.  Okyo also usually
painted on silk.

Japanese artists seldom outline their work.  In painting on silk, a rough
sketch in _sumi_ is sometimes placed under the silk for guidance.
Outlining on paper is done with straight willow twigs of charcoal, called
_yaki sumi,_ easily erased by brushing with a feather.

There are strict, and when once understood, reasonable and helpful laws
for the use of the brush (YOHITSU), the use of _sumi_ (YOBOKU) and the use
of water-colors (SESSHOKU). These laws reach from what seems merely the
mechanics of painting into the highest ethics of Japanese art.

The law of YO HITSU requires a free and skilful handling of the brush,
always with strict attention to the stroke, whether dot, line or mass is
to be made; the brush must not touch the silk or paper before reflection
has determined what the stroke or dot is to express.  Neither negligence
nor indifference is tolerated.

An artist, be he ever so skilful, is cautioned not to feel entirely
satisfied with his use of the brush, as it is never perfect and is always
susceptible of improvement.  The brush is the handmaid of the artist’s
soul and must be responsive to his inspiration.  The student is warned to
be as much on his guard against carelessness when handling the brush as if
he were a swordsman standing ready to attack his enemy or to defend his
own life; and this is the reason: Everything in art conspires to prevent
success.  The softness of the brush requires the stroke to be light and
rapid and the touch delicate.  The brush, when dipped first into the
water, may absorb too much or not enough, and the _sumi_ or ink taken on
the brush may blot or refuse to spread or flow upon the material, or it
may spread in the wrong direction.  The Chinese paper (TOSHI) which is
employed in ordinary art work may be so affected by the atmosphere as to
refuse to respond, and the brush stroke must be regulated accordingly.
All such matters have to be considered when the brush is being used, and
if the spirit of the artist be not alert, the result is failure. (IT TEN
ICHI BOKU  _ni_  CHIU _o su beki.)_

Vehicle of the subtle sentiment to be expressed in form, the brush must be
so fashioned as to receive and transmit the vibrations of the artist’s
inner self.  Much care, much thought and skill have been expended in the
manufacture of the brush.

In China, the art of writing preceded painting, and the first brushes made
were writing brushes, and the more writing developed into a wonderful art,
the more attention was bestowed upon the materials composing the writing
brush.  Such brushes were originally made with rabbit hair, round which
was wrapped the hair of deer and sheep, and the handles were mulberry
stems.  Later on, as Chinese characters became more complex and writing
more scientific, the brushes were most carefully made of fox and rabbit
hair, with handles of ivory, and they were kept in gold and jeweled boxes.
Officials were enjoined to write all public documents with brushes having
red lacquer handles, red being a positive or male (YO) color.  Ogishi, the
greatest of the Chinese writers, used for his brushes the feelers from
around the rat’s nose and hairs taken from the beak of the kingfisher.

In Japan, hair of the deer, badger, rabbit, sheep, squirrel, and wild
horse all enter into the manufacture of the artist’s brush, which is made
to order, long or short, soft or strong, stiff or pliable.  For laying on
color, the hair of the badger is preferred.  The sizes and shapes of
brushes used differ according to the subject to be painted. There are
brushes for flowers and birds, human beings, landscapes, lines of the
garments, lines of the face, for laying on color, for shading, et cetera.

A distinguishing feature in Japanese painting is the strength of the brush
stroke, technically called _fude no chikara_ or _fude no ikioi._ When
representing an object suggesting strength, such, for instance, as a rocky
cliff, the beak or talons of a bird, the tiger’s claws, or the limbs and
branches of a tree, the moment the brush is applied the sentiment of
strength must be invoked and felt throughout the artist’s system and
imparted through his arm and hand to the brush, and so transmitted into
the object painted; and this nervous current must be continuous and of
equal intensity  while the work proceeds.  If the tree’s limbs or branches
in a painting by a Kano artist be examined, it will astonish any one to
perceive the vital force that has been infused into them.  Even the
smallest twigs appear filled with the power of growth—all the result of
_fude no chikara._  Indeed, when this principle is understood, and in the
light of it the trees of many of the Italian and French artists are
critically viewed, they appear flabby, lifeless, and as though they had
been done with a feather.  They lack that vigor which is attained only by
_fude no chikara,_ or brush strength.

In writing Chinese characters in the REI SHO manner this same principle is
carefully inculcated.  The characters must be executed with the feeling of
their being carved on stone or engraved on steel—such must be the force
transmitted through the arm and hand to the brush.   Thus executed the
writings seem imbued with living strength.

It is related of Chinanpin, the great Chinese painter, that an art student
having applied to him for instruction, he painted an orchid plant and told
the student to copy it.  The student did so to his own satisfaction, but
the master told him he was far away from what was most essential.  Again
and again, during several months, the orchid was reproduced, each time an
improvement on the previous effort, but never meeting with the master’s
approval.  Finally Chinanpin explained as follows: The long, blade-like
leaves of the orchid may droop toward the earth but they all long to point
to the sky, and this tendency is called cloud-longing (BO UN) in art.
When, therefore, the tip of the long slender leaf is reached by the brush
the artist must feel that the same is longing to point to the clouds.
Thus painted, the true spirit and living force _(kokoromochi)_ of the
plant are preserved.

Kubota recommended to art students and artists to a practice with lines
which is excellent for acquiring and retaining firmness and freedom of the
arm, with steady and continuous strength in the stroke.  With a brush held
strictly perpendicular to the paper horizontal lines are painted, first
from right to left, the entire width of the TOSHI or other paper, each
line with equal thickness and unwavering intensity of power throughout its
entire length.  The thickness of the line will depend upon the amount of
hair in the brush that is allowed to touch the paper; if only the tip of
the brush be used, the line will be slender or thin; but, whether a broad
band or a delicate tracing, it must be uniform throughout and filled with
living force.  Next, the lines are painted from left to right in the same
way and with the same close attention to uniform thickness and continuous
flow of nervous strength from start to finish.   Then, the increasingly
difficult task is to paint them from top to bottom of the TOSHI, and
finally, most difficult and most important of all these exercises, the
parallel lines are traced from bottom to top of the paper.  The thinner
the line the more difficult it is to execute, because of the tendency of
the hand to tremble. Indeed, the difficulty is supreme.   Let any one who
is interested try this; it is an exercise for the most expert.  Such lines
resemble the _sons filés_ on the violin, where a continuous sustained tone
of equal intensity is produced by drawing the bow from heel to tip so
slowly over the strings that it hardly moves.  Practicing lines in the way
indicated gives steadiness and strength, qualities in demand at every
instant in Japanese art.  Observe a Japanese artist paint the young branch
of a plum tree shooting from the trunk.  The new year’s growth starting,
it may be, from the bottom of the TOSHI will be projected to the top.
Examine it carefully and it will be found to conform to that principle of
_jude no chikara_ which transfers a living force into the branch.  I have
seen European artists in Japan vainly try offhand to produce such effects;
but these depend on long and patient practice.

A Japanese artist will frequently ignore the boundaries of the paper upon
which he paints by beginning his stroke upon the MOSEN and continuing it
upon the paper—or beginning it upon the paper and projecting it upon the
MOSEN.  This produces the sentiment or impression of great strength of
stroke.  It animates the work.  And in this energetic kind of painting, if
drops of _sumi_ accidentally fall from the brush upon the painting they
are regarded as giving additional energy to it.  Similarly, if the stroke
on the trunk or branch of a tree shows many thin hair lines where the
intention was that the line should be solid, this also is regarded as an
additional evidence of stroke energy and is always highly prized.

The same principle applies in the art of Chinese writing; but this effect
must not be the result of calculation—it must be what in art is called SHI
ZEN,  meaning spontaneous.

In painting the hair of monkeys, bears and the like, the pointed brush is
flattened and spread out _(wari fude)_ so that each stroke of the same
will reproduce numberless thin lines, corresponding to the hairs of the
animal.  Sosen thus painted.  In modern times Kimpo _(Plate V)_ is justly
renowned for such work.

Many artists become wonderfully expert in the use of the flat brush, from
one to four inches wide, called _hake,_ by means of which instantaneous
effects such as rain, rocks, mountain chains and snow scenes are secured.
Some artists acquire a special reputation for skill in the use of the
_hake._

The brush should be often and thoroughly rinsed during the time that it is
used and washed and dried when not employed.  In Kyoto, Osaka and Tokyo
there are famous manufacturers of artists’ brushes, and names of makers
such as Nishimura, Sugiyama, Hakkado, Onkyodo and Kiukyodo are familiar to
all the artists of the country.

The use of _sumi_ (YOBOKU) is the really distinguishing feature of
Japanese painting.  Not only is this black color _(sumi)_ used in all
water color work, but it is frequently the only color employed; and a
painting thus executed, according to the laws of Japanese art, is called
_sumi e_ and is regarded as the highest test of the artist’s skill.
Colors can cheat the eye _(damakasu)_ but _sumi_ never can; it proclaims
the master and exposes the tyro.

The terms “study in black and white,” “India ink drawing” and the like,
since all are only makeshift translations, are misleading.  The Chinese
term “BOKUGWA” is the exact equivalent of _sumi e_ and both mean and
describe the same production.  _Sumi e_ is not an “ink picture,” since no
ink is used in its production.  Ink is the very opposite of _sumi_ both in
its composition and effect.  Ink is an acid and fluid.  _Sumi_ is a solid
made from the soot obtained by burning certain plants (for the best
results _juncus communis,_ bull rush, or the _sessamen orientalis),_
combined with glue from deer horn.  This is molded into a black cake
which, drying thoroughly if kept in ashes, improves with age. In much of
the good _sumi_ crimson _(beni)_ is added for the sheen, and musk perfume
_(Jako)_ is introduced for antiseptic purposes.  When a dead finish or
surface _(tsuya o keshi)_ is desired, as, for instance, where the female
coiffure is to be painted and a lusterless ground is needed for contrast
with the shining strands of the hair, a little white pulverized oyster
shell, called GO FUN, is mixed, with the _sumi._  Commercial India ink
resembles _sumi_ in appearance, but is very inferior to it in quality.
The methods of _sumi_ manufacture are carefully guarded secrets.  China
during the Ming dynasty, three centuries ago, produced the best _sumi,_
although China _sumi_ (TOBOKU) employed twelve centuries past shows both
in writing and in painting as distinctly and brilliantly today as though
it were but recently manufactured.  Nara, near Kyoto, was the birthplace
of Japanese _sumi,_ and the house of Kumagai _(Kyukyodo)_ for centuries
has had its manufacturers in that city.  In Tokyo a distinguished maker,
whose _sumi_ many of the artists there prefer, is Baisen.  He has devoted
fifty years of his life to the study and compounding of this precious
article.  He possesses some great secrets of manufacture which may die
with him.  In Okyo’s time there was a dark blue _sumi_ called AI EN BOKU
but the art and secret of its manufacture are lost.

In using _sumi_ the cake is moistened and rubbed on a slab called
_suzuri,_ producing a semi-fluid.  The well-cleaned brush is dipped first
into clear water and then into the prepared _sumi._ When the _sumi_ is
taken on the brush it should be used without delay; otherwise it will
mingle with the water of the brush and destroy the desired balance between
the water and the _sumi._  For careful work the _sumi_ is first
transferred on the brush from the _suzuri_ to a white saucer, where it is
tested.  It is a singular fact that the color of _sumi_ will differ
according to the manner in which it is rubbed upon the stone.  The best
results are obtained when a young maiden is employed for the purpose, her
strength being just suitable.

It is very important while painting with _sumi_ to renew its strength
frequently by fresh applications of the cake to the slab.  The color and
richness of _sumi_ left upon the slab soon fade; and though when used this
may not be apparent, when the _sumi_ dries on the paper or silk its
weakness is speedily perceived.

By the dexterous use of _sumi_ colors may be successfully suggested,
materials apparently reproduced and by what is termed BOKUSHOKU, or the
brush-stroke play of light and shade, the very rays of the sun may be
imprisoned within the four corners of a picture.  Artists are readily
recognized in their work by their manner of using or laying on _sumi._
The color, the sheen, the shadings and the flow of the ink enable us even
to determine the disposition or state of mind of the artist at the time of
painting, so sensitive, so responsive is _sumi_ to the mood of the artist
using it.  There is much of engaging interest in connection with this
subject.  Artists become most difficult to satisfy on the subject of the
various kinds of _sumi,_ which differ as much in their special qualities
as the tones of celebrated violins. It is interesting to observe how
different the color or richness of the same _sumi_ becomes according to
the varying skill with which it is applied.

The mineral character of the _suzuri_ has also much to do with the
production of the best and richest black tones.

The most valuable stone for _suzuri_ is known throughout the entire
oriental world as TAN KEI and is found in the mountain of Fuka in China.
This stone has gold streaks through it, with small dots called bird’s
eyes.  The water which flows from Fuka mountain is blue.  The color of the
rock is violet.  A favorite color for the _suzuri_ (in Chinese called KEN)
is lion’s liver.  Formerly much ceremony was observed in mining for this
stone and sheep and cattle were offered in sacrifice, else it was believed
that the stone would be struck by a thunderbolt and reduced to ashes in
the hands of its possessor.  The _suzuri_ is also made in China from river
sediment fashioned and baked.  Still another method is to make the
_suzuri_ from paper and the varnish of the lacquer tree.  Such are called
paper _suzuri_ (SHI KEN).  In Thibet _suzuri_ are made from the bamboo
root.  In Japan the best stones for _suzuri_ are found near Hiroshima in
Kiushu, the grain being hard and fine.

The skilful use of water colors is called SESSHOKU. It is more difficult
to paint with _sumi_ alone than use of water to paint with the aid of
colors, which can hide defects never to be concealed in a _sumi e,_ where
painting  over _sumi_ a second time is disastrous. Japanese painters as a
rule are sparing of colors, the slightest amount used discreetly and with
restraint generally sufficing.  Many artists have not the color sense or
dislike color and seldom use it.  Kubota often declared he hoped to live
until he might feel justified in discarding color and employing _sumi_
alone for any and all effects in painting.

There are eight different ways of painting in color.  I will enumerate
them, with their technical, descriptive terms:

In the best form of color painting (GOKU ZAI SHIKI) _(Plate IX)_ the color
is most carefully laid on, being applied three times or oftener if
necessary.  On account of these repeated coats this form is called TAI
CHAKU SHOKU.  This style of painting is reserved for temples, gold
screens, palace ceilings and the like.  Tosa and _Yamato e_ painters
generally followed this manner.

The next best method of coloring (CHU ZAI SHIKI) _(Plate X)_ is termed
CHAKU SHOKU, or the ordinary application of color.  The Kano and Shijo
schools use this method extensively, as did also the _Ukiyo e_ painters.

The light water-color method, called TAN SAI _(Plate XI)_, is employed in
the ordinary style of painting _kakemono_ and is much used by the Okyo
school.

The most interesting form of painting, technically called BOKKOTSU _(Plate
XII)_, is that in which all outlines are suppressed and _sumi_ or color is
used for the masses.  Another Japanese term for the same is _tsuketate._

              [Tree Squirrel, by Mochizuki Kimpo.  Plate V.]

               Tree Squirrel, by Mochizuki Kimpo.  Plate V.


The method of shading, called GOSO _(Plate XIII)_, invented by a Chinese
artist, Godoshi, who lived one thousand years ago, consists in applying
dark brown color or light _sumi_ wash over the _sumi_ lines. This style
was much employed by Kano painters and for art printing.

The light reddish-brown color, technically called SENPO SHOKU _(Plate
XIV)_, is mostly used in printing pictures in book form.

Another form similarly used is called HAKUBYO _(Plate XV)_ or white
pattern, no color being employed.

Lastly, there is the _sumi_ picture or _sumi e_ _(Plate XVI)_, technically
called SUIBOKU,—to which reference has already been made—where _sumi_ only
is employed, black being regarded as a color by Japanese artists.

A well-known method by which the autumnal tints of forest leaves are
produced is to take up with the brush one after another and in the
following order these colors: Yellow-green _(ki iro),_ brown (TAI SHA),
red (SHU), crimson _(beni),_ and last, and on the very tip of the brush,
_sumi._  The brush thus charged and dexterously applied gives a charming
autumn effect, the colors shading into each other as in nature.

There are five parent colors in Japanese art: parent colors Blue (SEI),
yellow (AU), black (koku), white (BYAKU), combinations and red (SEKI).
These in combination (CHO GO) originate other colors as follows:  Blue and
yellow produce green _(midori);_ blue and black, dark blue _(ai nezumi);_
blue and white, sky-blue _(sora iro);_ blue and red, purple _(murasaki)_;
yellow and black, dark green _(unguisu cha)_; yellow and red, orange
_(kaba);_ black and red, brown _(tobiiro);_ black and combinations white,
gray _(nezumiiro)._  These secondary colors in combination produce other
tones and shades required.  Powdered gold and silver, and crimson made
from the saffron plant are also employed.  The colors, excepting yellow,
are prepared for use by mixing them with light glue upon a saucer.  With
yellow, water alone is used.  In addition to all the foregoing there are
other expensive colors used in careful work and known as mineral earths
_(iwamono)._  They are blue (GUNJO), dark or Prussian blue (KONJO), light
bluish-green (GUNROKU), green (ROKUSHO), light green (BYAKUGUN), pea green
(CHA-ROKU SHO) and light red (SANGO MATSU).

The use of primary colors in a painting in proximity to secondary ones
originated by them is color to be avoided, as both lose by such contrast;
and when a color-scheme fails to give satisfaction it will usually be
found that this cardinal principle of harmony, called _iro no kubari,_ has
been disregarded by the artist.  Color in art is the dress, the apparel in
which the work is clad.  It must be suitably combined, restrained, and
attract no undue attention _(medatsunai)._  True color sense is a special
gift.



[Chapter 4 Head-Band: The pattern (moyo) known as bamboo and the swelling
   sparrow (take nifukura susume).  The parts of the bird are amusingly
 conventionalized—in the Korin manner. The word fukura written in Chinese
             contains the lucky character fuku (happiness).]


CHAPTER FOUR.  LAWS GOVERNING THE CONCEPTION AND EXECUTION OF A PAINTING


When a Japanese artist is preparing to paint a picture he considers first
the space the picture is to occupy and its shape, whether square, oblong,
round or otherwise; next, the distribution of light and shade, and then
the placing of the objects in the composition so as to secure harmony and
effective contrasts.  In settling these questions he relies largely on the
laws of proportion and design.

The principles of proportion (ICHI) and design (ISHO) are closely allied.
They aim to supply and express with sobriety what is essential to the
composition, proportion determining the just arrangement and distribution
of the component parts, and design the manner in which the same shall be
handled.  In a landscape, proportion may require the balancing effect of
buildings and trees, while design will determine how the same may be
picturesquely presented; for instance, by making the trees partially hide
the buildings, thus provoking a desire to see more than is shown.  Such
suggestion or stimulation of the imagination is called YUKASHI. The
Japanese painter is early taught the value of suppression in design—_l’art
d’ennuyer est de tout dire_.

A well-known rule of proportion, quaintly expressed in the original
Chinese and which is more or less adhered to in practice, requires in a
landscape painting that if the mountain be, for example, ten feet high the
trees should be one foot, a horse one inch and a man the size of a bean.
JO SAN SEKI JU, SUN BA TO JIN _(Plate XVII)_.

Design, called in art ISHO ZUAN or _takumi,_ is largely the personal
equation of the artist.  It is his power of presenting and expressing what
he treats in an original manner.  The subject may not be new, but its
treatment must be fresh and attractive.  Much will depend upon the
learning and the technical ability of the artist.  In the matter of design
the artists of Tokyo have always differed from those of Kyoto, the former
aiming at lively and even startling effects, while the latter seek to
produce a quieter or more subdued _(otonashi)_ result.

Where landscapes or trees are to be painted upon a single panel, panels on
each side of it may be conveniently placed and the painting designed upon
the central panel in connection with the two additional ones used for
elaboration.  In this way, when the side panels are withdrawn the effect
is as though such landscape or trees were seen through an open window, and
all cramped or forced appearance is avoided.  The _Ukiyo e_ artists
practiced a similar method in their _hashirakake_ or long, narrow,
panel-like prints of men and women used for decorating upright beams in a
room.

The literature of art abounds in instances illustrative of correct
proportion and design.

The artist Buncho being requested to paint a crow flying across a _fusuma_
or four sliding door-like panels, after much reflection painted the bird
in the act of disappearing from the last of these subdivisions, the space
of the other three suggesting the rapid flight which the crow had already
accomplished, and the law of proportion (ICHI) or orderly arrangement thus
observed was universally applauded.

In the wooded graveyard of the temple at Ike-gami, where the tombs of so
many of the Kano artists (including Tanyu) are to be found, is a stone
marking the grave of a Kano painter who, having executed an order for a
picture and his patron observing that it was lacking in design and that he
must add a certain gold effect in the color scheme, rather than violate
his own convictions of what he considered proper design, first refused to
comply and then committed _hara kiri._

A canon of Japanese art which is at the base of one of the peculiar charms
of Japanese pictures, not merely in the whole composition but also in
minute details that might escape the attention at first glance, requires
that there should be in every painting the sentiment of active and
passive, light and shade.  This is called IN YO and is based upon the
principle of contrast for heightening effects.  The term IN YO originated
in the earliest doctrines of Chinese philosophy and has always existed in
the art language of the Orient.  It signifies darkness (IN) and light
(YO), negative and positive, female and male, passive and active, lower
and upper, even and odd.  This term is of constant application in
painting.  A picture with its lights and shades properly distributed
conforms to the law of IN YO.  Two flying crows, one with its beak closed,
the other with its beak open; two tigers in their lair, one with the mouth
shut, the other with the teeth showing; or two dragons, one ascending to
the sky and the other descending to the ocean, illustrate phases of IN YO.
Mountains, waves, the petals of a flower, the eyeball of a bird, rocks,
trees—all have their negative and positive aspects, their IN and their YO.
The observance of this canon secures not only the effective contrast of
light and shade in a picture but also an equally striking contrast between
the component parts of each object composing it.

The law of form, in art called KEISHO or KAKKO, is widely applied for
determining not only the correct shape of things but also their suitable
or proper presentation according to circumstances.  It has to do with all
kinds of attitudes and dress.  It determines what is suitable for the
prince and for the beggar, for the courtier and for the peasant.  It
regulates the shape that objects should take according to conditions
surrounding them, whether seen near or far off, in mist or in rain or
snow, in motion or in repose. The exact shape of objects in motion (as an
animal running, a bird flying or a fish swimming) no one can see, but the
painter who has observed, studied and knows by heart the form or shape of
these objects in repose can, by virtue of his skill, reproduce them in
motion, foreshortened or otherwise; that is KEISHO; and he is taught and
well understands that if in executing such work his memory of essential
details fails him hesitancy is apt to cause the picture to perish as a
work of art.

KEISHO literally means shape, but in oriental art it signifies also the
proprieties; it is a law which enforces among other things canons of good
taste and suppresses all exaggerations, inartistic peculiarities and
_grimaces._

The law touching historical subjects and the manner of painting them is
called KO JUTSU.  Special principles apply to this department of Japanese
art.  The historical painter must know all the historical details of the
period to which his painting relates, including a knowledge of the arms,
accoutrements, costumes, ornaments, customs and the like.  This subject
covers too vast a field and is too important to be summarily treated here.
Suffice it to say that there have been many celebrated historical painters
in Japan.  I recall, on the other hand, a picture once exhibited by a
distinguished Tokyo artist which was superbly executed but wholly ignored
by the jury because it violated some canon applicable to historical
painting.

The term YU SHOKU refers to the laws governing the practices of the
Imperial household, Buddhist and Shinto rites.  Before attempting any work
of art in which these may figure the painter must be thoroughly versed in
the appointments of palace interiors, the rules of etiquette, the
occupations and pastimes of the Emperor, court nobles _(Kuge),_ _daimyo_
and their military attendants _(samurai),_ the costumes of the females
_(tsubone)_ of the Imperial household and their duties and
accomplishments.  The Tosa school made a thorough familiarity with such
details its specialty.  All Buddhist paintings come under the law of YU
SHOKU.

Let us next consider briefly some of the principles applicable to Japanese
landscape painting.  Landscapes are known in art by the term SAN SUI,
which means mountain and water.  This Chinese term would indicate that the
artists of China considered both mountains and water to be essential to
landscape subjects, and the tendency in a Japanese artist to introduce
both into his painting is ever noticeable.  If he cannot find the water
elsewhere he takes it from the heavens in the shape of rain.  Indeed, rain
and wind subjects are much in favor and wonderful effects are produced in
their pictures suggesting the coming slorm, where the wind makes the
bamboos and trees take on new, weird and fantastic shapes.

The landscape _(Plate XVIII)_ contains a lofty mountain, rocks, river,
road, trees, bridge, man, animal, et cetera.  The first requisite in such,
a composition is that the picture respond to the law of TEN CHI JIN, or
heaven, earth and man.  This wonderful law of Buddhism is said to pervade
the universe and is of widest application to all the art of man.  TEN CHI
JIN means that whatever is worthy of contemplation must contain a
principal subject, its complimentary adjunct, and auxiliary details.  Thus
is the work rounded out to its perfection.

                  [Tiger, by Kishi Chikudo.  Plate VI.]

                   Tiger, by Kishi Chikudo.  Plate VI.


This law of TEN CHI JIN applies not only to painting but to poetry (its
elder sister), to architecture, to garden plans, as well as to flower
arrangement; in fact, it is a universal, fundamental law of correct
construction.  In _Plate XVIII_ the mountain is the dominant or principal
feature.  It commands our first attention.  Everything is subservient to
it.  It, therefore, is called TEN, or heaven.  Next in importance,
complimentary to the mountain, are the rocks.  These, therefore, are CHI,
or earth; while all that contributes to the movement or life of the
picture, to wit, the trees, man, animal, bridge and river, are styled JIN,
or man, so that the picture satisfies the first law of composition,
namely, the unity in variety required by TEN CHI JIN.

There is another law which determines the general character to be given a
landscape according to the season, and is thus expressed:  Mountains in
spring should suggest joyousness; in summer, green and moisture; in
autumn, abundance; in winter, drowsiness.   The formula runs as follows:
SHUN-ZAN, _warau gotoshi;_ KAZAN, _arau gotoshi;_ SHUZAN, _yoso gotoshi;_
TOZAN, _nemurugotoku._

Similarly, according to the season, there are four principal ways of
painting bamboo (CHIKU).  In fair-weather bamboo (SEI CHIKU) the leaves
are spread out joyously; in rainy-weather bamboo (UCHIKU) the leaves hang
down despondently; in windy-weather bamboo (FUCHIKU) the leaves cross each
other confusedly, and in the dew of early morning (ROCHIKU) the bamboo
leaves all point upwards vigorously _(Plate LIII a 1 to a 4)_.

The Kano artists differ from the Shijo painters in their manner of
combining _(kasaneru)_ the leaves and branches of the bamboo.  Speaking
generally, the Shijo artists point the leaves downward, while the former
point them upward, which is more effective.

Again, in snow scenery the Kano artists first paint the bottom of the
snow-line and then by shading _(kumadori)_ above the same with very light
ink _(usui sumi)_ produce the effect of accumulated snow.  The Okyo school
secures the same result in a much more brilliant manner, using but a
single dexterous stroke of the well-watered brush, the point only of which
is tipped with _sumi._

Some artisls, notably Kubota Beisen and his followers, employ both
methods, the former for near and the latter for distant snow landscapes.

Low mountains in a landscape suggest great distance.  Fujiyama, the
favorite subject of all artists, should not be painted too high, else it
loses in dignity by appearing too near.  In an art work written by Oishi
Shuga, Fuji is reproduced as it appears at every season of the year,
whether clad in snow, partly concealed by clouds, or plainly visible in
unobstructed outline.  The book is a safe guide for artists to consult.

We may next consider some laws applicable to mountains, rocks and ledges.
It has long since been observed by the great writers on art in China that
mountains, rocks, ledges and peaks have certain characteristics which
distinguish them.  These differ not only with their geological formations
but also vary with the seasons on account of the different grasses and
growths which may more or less alter or conceal them.  To attempt to
reproduce them as seen were a hopeless task, there being too much
confusing detail; hence, salient features only are noted, studied and
painted according to what is called SHUN PO, or the law of ledges or
stratifications.  There are eight different ways in which rocks, ledges
and the like may be represented:

The peeled hemp-bark method, called HI MA SHUN _(Plate XXIII a)_.

The large and small axe strokes on a tree, called DAI SHO FU HEKI SHUN
_(Plate XXIII b)_.

The lines of the lotus leaf, called KA YO SHUN _(Plate XXIV a)._

Alum crystals, called HAN TO SHUN _(Plate XXIV b)_.

The loose rice leaves, called KAI SAKU SHUN _(Plate XXV a)_.

Withered kindling twigs, called RAN SHI SHUN _(Plate XXV b)_.

Scattered hemp leaves, termed RAMMA SHUN _(Plate XXVI a)_.

The wrinkles on a cow’s neck, called GYU MO SHUN _(Plate XXVI b)_.

These eight laws are not only available guides to desired effects; they
also abbreviate labor and save the artist’s attempting the impossible task
of exactly reproducing physical conditions of the earth in a landscape
painting.  They are symbols or substitutes for the truth felt.  Nothing is
more interesting than such art resources whereby the sentiment of a
landscape is reproduced by thus suggesting or symbolizing many of its
essential features.

It was a theory of the great Chinese teacher, Chinanpin, and particularly
enforced by him, that trees, plants and grasses take the form of a circle,
called in art RIN KAN (see _Plate XXVII_), No. 1; or a semi-circle (HAN
KAN) _(Plate XXVII)_, No. 2; or an aggregation of half-circles, called
fish scales (GYO RIN) _(Plate XXVII)_, No. 3; or a modification of these
latter, called moving fish scales (GYO RIN KATSU HO) _(Plate XXVII)_, No
4. Developing this principle on _Plate XXVIII_, No. 1, we have
theoretically the first shape of tree growth and on _Plate XXVIII_, No. 2,
the same practically interpreted. In Nos. 3 and 4, same plate, we have the
growth of grass illustrated theoretically and practically.  In _Plate
XXIX_, according to this method, is constructed the entire skeleton of a
forest tree.  In Nos. 1 and 2 on this plate numerous small circles are
indicated.  These show where each stroke of the brush begins, the points
of commencement being of prime importance to correct effect.  In No. 3,
same plate, we have the foundation work of a tree in a Japanese painting.
It is needless to point out the marvelous vigor apparent in work
constructed according to the above principles.

In the painting of rocks, ledges, and the like, Chinanpin taught that the
curved lines of the fish scales are to be changed into straight lines,
three in number, of different lengths, two being near together and the
third line slightly separated, and all either perpendicular or horizontal,
as in _Plate XXX_, Nos. 1 and 2.  In the same plate, Nos. 3 and 4, we have
the principle of rock construction illustrated.  In _Plate XXXI_, Nos. 1,
2 and 3, is seen the practical application of this theory to _kakemono_
work.  In executing these lines for rocks much stress is laid upon the
principle of IN YO; on the elevated portions the brush must be used
lightly (IN) and on the lower portions it must be applied with strength
(YO).  At the bottom, where grass, mould, and moss accumulate, a rather
dry brush (KWAPPITSU) is applied with a firm stroke.

Next, there are laws for near and distant tree, shrubbery and grass
effects, corresponding to the season of the year.  These are known as the
laws of dots (TEN PO); the saying TEN TAI SAN NEN indicates that it takes
three years to make them correctly.

They are as follows:

The drooping wistaria dot (SUI TO TEN) _(Plate XXXII a)_ for spring
effects.

The chrysanthemum dot (KIKU KWA TEN) _(Plate XXXII b)_ used in summer
foliage.

The wheel spoke dot (SHA RIN SHIN) _(Plate XXXIII a)_, being the
pine-needle stroke and used for pine trees.

The Chinese character for the verb “to save” (KAI JI TEN) _(Plate XXXIII
b)_, used for both trees and shrubbery.

The pepper dot (KOSHOTEN) _(Plate XXXIV a)_.  This dot requires great
dexterity and free wrist movement.  It will be observed that the dots are
made to vary in size but are all given the same direction.

The mouse footprints (SO SOKU TEN) _(Plate XXXIV b)_, used for cryptomeria
and other like trees.

The serrated or sawtooth dot (KYO SHI SHIN) _(Plate XXXV a)_, much used
for distant pine-tree effects.

The Chinese character for “one” (ICHI JI TEN) _(Plate XXXV b)_. The effect
produced by this character is very remarkable in representing maple and
other trees whose foliage at a distance appears to be in layers.

The Chinese character for “heart” (SHIN), called SHIN JI TEN _(Plate XXXVI
a)_. This is used most effectively for both foliage and grasses.

The Chinese character for “positively” (HITSU), called HITSU JI TEN
_(Plate XXXVI b)_. This dot or stroke is successfully employed in
reproducing the foliage of the willow tree in spring.

The rice dot, called BEI TEN _(Plate XXXVIII a)_.

The dot called HAKU YO TEN _(Plate XXXVII b)_, being smaller than the
pepper dot, with the clove dot (SHO JI TEN) surrounding it.

It is a strictly observed rule that none of these dots should interfere
with or hide the branches of the trees of which they form part.

The term _chobo chobo_ is applied to the practice of always finishing a
landscape painting, rocks, trees or flowers, with certain dots judiciously
added to enliven and heighten the general effect.  These dots, done with a
springing wrist movement, serve to enliven the work and give it freshness,
just as a rain shower affects vegetation.  The Kano artists were most
insistent upon _chobo chobo._

There are many quaint aids to artistic effects from time immemorial well
known to and favored by the old Chinese painters and still successfully
practiced in Japan.  Probably the larger number of these are employed in
the technical construction of the Four Paragons (p. 66 _et seq.)._  There
are still others: as, for instance, the fish-scale pattern _(Plate XIX)_,
used in painting the clustered needles of the pine tree or the bending
branches of the willow; the stork’s leg for pine tree branches _(Plate
XIX)_; the gourd for the head and elongated jaws of the dragon; the egg
for the body of a bird (_Plate XXII_; the stag horn for all sorts of
interlacing branches; the turtle back pattern or the dragon’s scales for
the pine tree bark.  In addition to these, the general shapes of certain
of the Chinese written characters are invoked for reproducing winding
streams _(Plate XX)_, groupings of rocks, meadow, swamp, and other grasses
and the like.

Of course the exact shape of the various Chinese characters here referred
to must not be actually painted into the composition but merely the
sentiment of their respective forms recalled.  They are simply practical
memory aids to desired effects.

It is the spirit of the character rather than its exact shape which should
control; the order of the painted strokes being that of the written
character, its sentiment or general shape is thus reproduced.

In this connection I would allude to criticisms or judgments upon Japanese
painting in which particular stress is laid upon its calligraphic quality.
If any Japanese artist was seriously informed that his method of painting
was calligraphic, he would explode with mirth.  There are several ways to
account for this rather wide-spread error.  Much that is written about
Japanese painting and its calligraphy is but the repetition by one author
of what he has taken on trust from another, an effective way sometimes of
spreading misinformation.  It is quite true that the assiduous study of
Chinese writing (SHO) is an essential part of thorough art education in
Japan, not, however, for the purpose of learning to paint as one writes,
or of introducing written characters more or less transformed into a
painting (if that be what is meant by “calligraphic”), but simply to give
the artist freedom, confidence, and grace in the handling of the brush and
to train his eye to form and balance and to acquire both strength of
stroke and a knowledge of the sequence of strokes.  To write in Chinese
after the manner of professionals (SHO KA) is truly a great art, esteemed
even higher than painting; it requires thirty years of constant practice
to become expert therein, and it has many laws and profound principles
which, if mastered by artists, will enable them to be all the greater in
their painting, and many Japanese artists have justly prided themselves
upon being expert writers of the Chinese characters.  Okyo practiced daily
for three years the writing of two intricate characters standing for his
name, until he was satisfied with their forms, but there is nothing
calligraphic about any of Okyo’s painting.

Possibly what has misled foreign critics and even some Japanese writers is
that there exists a class of men in Japan given to learning, to writing,
and also to painting in a particular way.

These men are called BUN JIN (literati) and their style of painting is
called BUN JIN FU.  They are not artists, but are known as Confucius’
scholars (JU SHA), and being professional or trained writers in the
difficult art of Chinese calligraphy they have a manner of painting
strictly _sui generis._  It is known as the NAN GWA or southern literary
way of painting.  Their subjects are the bamboo, the plum, the orchid and
the chrysanthemum, called the four paragons (SHI KUN SHI).  These and
landscapes they paint with their writing brush and more or less in what is
called the grass character (SO SHO) manner of writing.  In fact, they
often aim to make their painting look like writing and they rarely use any
color except light-brown (TAI SHA).  They suppress line as distinguished
from mass.  This method is called _bokkotsu_ (see _Plate XII_). Such
painting of the NAN GWA school is, in a sense, calligraphic, but that is
not the kind of painting which Japanese artists are taught, practice and
profess, nor is it even recognized as an art, but simply as an eccentric
development of the literary man with a taste for painting.   At one time
or another well-known artists, especially at the beginning of the Meiji
era, have affected this BUN JIN calligraphy style simply as a passing
fashion.

One other possible explanation of the critics pronouncing all Japanese
paintings calligraphic is that various Chinese characters are, as we have
seen, invoked and employed by Japanese artists as memory aids to producing
certain effects; but were these characters introduced calligraphically,
the result would be laughable.  It should be plain then that Japanese
painting is not calligraphic; as well apply the term calligraphy to one of
Turner’s water colors.  On the other hand, Chinese writing is built up on
word pictures. There are between five and six hundred mother characters,
all imitating the shapes of objects; these, with their later combinations,
constitute the Chinese written system, so that while there is nothing
calligraphic about Japanese painting, there is much that is pictorial
about Chinese calligraphy.

Other landscape laws applicable to things seen at a distance in a painting
require that distant trees should show no branches nor leaves; people at a
distance, no features; distant mountains, no ledges; distant seas or
rivers, no waves.  Again, clouds should indicate whence they come; running
water the direction of its source; mountains, their chains; and roads,
whither they lead.

In regard to painting moving waters, whether of deep or shallow, in rivers
or brooks, bays or oceans, Chinanpin declared it was impossible for the
eye to seize their exact forms because they are ever changing and have no
fixed, definite shape, therefore they can not be sketched satisfactorily;
yet, as moving water must be represented in painting, it should be long
and minutely contemplated by the artist, and its general character—whether
leaping in the brook, flowing in the river, roaring in the cataract,
surging in the ocean or lapping the shore—observed and reflected upon, and
after the eye and memory are both sufficiently trained and the very soul
of the artist is saturated, as it were, with this one subject and he feels
his whole being calm and composed, he should retire to the privacy of his
studio and with the early morning sun to gladden his spirit there attempt
to reproduce the movement of the flow; not by copying what he has seen,
for the effect would be stiff and wooden, but by symbolizing according to
certain laws what he feels and remembers.

In work of this kind there are certain directions for the employment of
the brush which can only be learned from oral instruction and
demonstration by the master.

In _Plate XXXVIII_ a, 1, the method by which waves are reproduced is
shown, the circles indicating where the brush is turned upon itself before
again curving.  On the same plate (b) waveless water, shallow water, and
river water with current are indicated at the top, middle and bottom,
respectively.  In _Plate XXXIX_ a, we have the moving waters of an inland
sea; in b, the bounding waters of a brook; in _Plate XL_, the stormy waves
of the ocean.

We will now consider another unique department of Japanese painting in
connection with the garments of human beings.  The lines and folds of the
garment may be painted in eighteen different ways according to what are
known as the eighteen laws for the dress (EMON JU HACHI BYO).  I will
mention each of these laws in its order and refer to the plate
illustrations of the same.

The floating silk thread line (KOU KO YU SHI BYOU) (_Plate XLI_ upper).
This line was introduced by the Tosa school of artists eight hundred years
ago and has been in favor ever since.  It is the purest or standard line
and is reserved for the robes of elevated personages.  The brush is held
firmly and the lines, made to resemble silk threads drawn from the cocoon,
are executed with a free and uninterrupted movement of the arm.

The Koto string line (KIN SHI BYOU) (_Plate XLI_ lower).  This is a line
of much dignity and of uniform roundness from start to finish.  It is
produced by using a little more of the tip of the brush than in the silk
thread line and there must be no break or pause in it until completed.
This line is used for dignified subjects.

Chasing clouds and running water lines (KOU UN RYU SUI BYOU) (_Plate XLII_
upper).  These are produced with a wave-like, continuous movement of the
brush—breathing, as it were.  Such lines are generally reserved for the
garments of saints, young men and women.

The stretched iron wire line (TETSU SEN BYOU) (_Plate XLII_ lower). This
is a very important line, much employed by Tosa artists and used for the
formal, stiffly searched garments of court nobles, _samurai,_ NO dancers,
and umpires of wrestling matches.  When this line is painted the artist
must have the feeling of carving upon metal.

The nail-head and rat-tail line (TEI TOU SOBI BYOU) (_Plate XLIII_ upper).
In making this, the stroke is begun with the feeling of painting and
reproducing the hard nature of a tack and then continued to depict a rat’s
tail, which grows small by degrees and beautifully less.

The line of the female court noble or _tsubone_ (SOU I BYOU) (_Plate
XLIII_ lower).  This line and the preceding are much used for the soft and
graceful garments of young men and women and have always been favorites
with the _Ukiyo e_ painters.

The willow-leaf line (RYU YOU BYOU) (_Plate XLIV_ upper).  This line has
always been in great favor with all the schools, and especially with the
Kano painters, and is used indiscriminately for goddesses, angels, and
devils.  It is intended to reproduce the sentiment of the willow leaf,
commencing with a fine point, swelling a little and again diminishing.

The angleworm line (KYU EN BYOU) (_Plate XLIV_ lower).  The angleworm is
of uniform roundness throughout its length and it is with that sentiment
or _kokoromochi_ that it must be painted, care being taken to conceal the
point of the brush along the line.  This is a most important line in all
color painting. Indeed, where much pains are to be taken with the picture,
and the colors are to be most carefully laid on, it is the best and
favorite line.

The rusty nail and old post line (KETSU TOU TEI BYOU) (_Plate XLV_ upper).
This line is painted with a brush, the point of which is broken off.  The
Kano school of artists particularly affect this method of line painting in
depicting beggars, hermits, and other such characters.

The date seed line (SAU GAI BYOU) (_Plate XLV_ lower).  This line,
intended to represent a continuous succession of date seeds, is made with
a throbbing brush and generally used in the garments of sages and famous
men of learning.

The broken reed line (SETSU RO BYOU) (_Plate XLVI_ upper) is made with a
rather dry brush and, as its name indicates, should be painted with the
feeling of reproducing broken reeds.  It is a line intended to inspire
terror, awe, consternation, and is used for war gods, FUDO _sama,_ and
other divinities.

The gnarled knot line (KAN RAN BYOU) (_Plate XLVI_ lower).  In this kind
of painting the brush is stopped from time to time and turned upon itself
with a feeling of producing the gnarled knots of a tree.  The line is much
used for ghosts, dream pictures, and the like.

The whirling water line (SEN PITSU SUI MON BYOU) (_Plate XLVII_ upper) is
used for rapid work and reproduces the swirl of the stream.  It was a
favorite line with Kyosai.

The suppression line (GEN PITSU BYOU) (_Plate XLVII_ lower) is suitable
where but few lines enter into the painting of the dress.  Any of the
other seventeen lines can be employed in this way.  The Kano artists used
it a great deal.

Dry twig or old firewood line (KO SHI BYOU) (_Plate XLVIII_ upper) is
generally used in the robes of old men and produced by what is called the
dry brush; that is, a brush with very little water mixed with  the _sumi._
The stroke must be bold and free to be effective.

The orchid leaf line (RAN YAU BYOU) (_Plate XLVIII_ lower). This is a very
beautiful method of painting whereby the graceful shape of the orchid leaf
is recalled; the line is used for the dresses of _geishas_ and beauties
_(bijin)_ generally.

The bamboo leaf line (CHIKU YAU BYOU) (_Plate XLIX_ upper).  This style of
painting, which aims at suggesting the leaf of the bamboo, was much in
favor formerly in China.  Japanese artists seldom employ it.

The mixed style (KON BYOU) (_Plate XLIX_ lower), in which any of the
foregoing seventeen styles can be employed provided the body of the
garment be laid on first in mass and the lines painted in afterward while
the _sumi_ or paint is still damp.  This gives a satiny effect.

There are many other ways of painting the lines of the garment but the
preceding eighteen laws give the strictly classic methods known to
oriental art.

The orchid, bamboo, plum, and chrysanthemum paragons (RAN CHIKU BAI KIKU)
are called in art the Four Paragons.  Although these may be the first
studies taught they are generally the last subjects mastered.  Much
learning and research have been expended upon them in China and Japan. An
artist who can paint SHI KUN SHI is a master of the brush.  I will
indicate some of the laws applicable to each of these subjects.

The orchid grows in the deepest mountain recesses, exhaling its perfume
and unfolding its beauty in silence and solitude, unheralded and unseen;
thus, regardless of its surroundings and fulfilling the law of its being,
fifteen hundred years ago it was proclaimed by the poet and painter San
Koku to typify true nobility and hence was a paragon.  In poetry it is
called the maiden’s mirror.  Many great Chinese writers have taken the
orchid (RAN) for their nom de plume, as Ran Ya, Ran Tei, Ran Kiku, and Ran
Ryo.

_Plate LII_ shows an orchid plant in flower.  The established order of the
brush strokes for the leaves of is indicated at the tips by numerals one
to eleven; that of the flower stalk and flower by numbers twelve to
twenty-one.  Various forms are invoked in painting both the plant and the
flower and are more or less graphically suggested.  These forms are
indicated by numbers, as follows:

Leaf blade No. 1 reproduces twice the stomach of the mantis (22), the tail
of the rat (23), with the cloud longing (BO UN) of the tip (24).  Leaf No.
2 is similarly constructed but is painted to intersect leaf No. 1, leaving
between them a space (No. 25) called the elephant’s eye.  Leaf No. 3 is
intersected by leaf No. 4, enclosing another space between them, known as
the eye of the phoenix.  Adding leaves Nos. 5 and 6, called SEKI or
_kazari,_ meaning ornament, we have the most essential parts of the orchid
plant.  Leaf No. 7 is known as the rat’s tail and leaf No. 8 as the body
of a young carp.  Nos. 9,10 and 11 are called nail heads, from their
fancied resemblance to such objects.  With these the plant is structurally
complete.

                 [Bamboo, Sparrow and Rain.  Plate VII.]

                  Bamboo, Sparrow and Rain.  Plate VII.


The flower stalk is divided into four parts (Nos. 12 to 15), called rice
sheaths.  The flower is made with six strokes (16 to 21), called the
flying bee (26).  The three dots in the flower reproduce the sentiment of
the Chinese character for heart (23).

The orchid is variously painted rising from the ground, issuing from the
banks of a brook, or clinging with its roots to a rocky cliff.  In
allusion to the lonely places where it grows it is called _I shiri no
kusa_ or the plant which the wild boar knows.  The orchid is credited with
medicinal properties, and the flower steeped in wine makes a potion which
secures perpetual health.  The charm of friendship is likened unto the
orchid’s perfume and the flowers are worn by the ladies of the court to
ward off maladies.

The leaves of the bamboo are green at all seasons.  The stems are straight
and point upwards.  The plant is beautiful under all conditions—struggling
beneath the winter snow or fanned by the spring breeze, swaying with the
storm or bending under showers—its grace challenges admiration.  Typifying
constancy and upright conduct, it was claimed over a thousand years ago by
Shumo Shiku to be a paragon.

Nothing is more difficult to paint correctly than this plant.  _Plate
LIII_ shows the bamboo with its essentially component parts and forms
indicated as follows: The upright stalk is in five subdivisions (1 to 5),
each differing in length but all suggesting the Chinese character for one
(ICHI) painted upright.  These are separated from each other by strokes
reproducing the Chinese characters for positively (22), for heart (23),
for second (24), for one (25), and for eight (26).  The stem (6 to 10) is
composed of rats’ tails.  The manner of painting and combining the leaves
of the bamboo is called _take no ha no kumitata_ and is minutely described
and illustrated in Ransai’s great work, _Gwa Fu._  The essentials are: The
five-leaf arrangement (GO YO) (11 to 15) with the ornament (16), called
_kazari._ The three-leaf arrangement (17 to 19) called KO JI, from its
resemblance to the Chinese character KO (32).  The two-leaf arrangement
(20 and 21) called JIN JI, from its resemblance to the character JIN (33),
a man.  In further development of the plant the following imitative
arrangements of the leaves are used: The fish tail (GYO BI) (27), the
goldfish triple tail (KINGYO BI) (28), the swallow tail (EN BI) (29), the
Chinese character for bamboo (CHIKU JI) (30), and the seven-leaf
arrangement (SHICHI YO) (31).  It will be observed how the odd or positive
numbers (YO) are favored.  The foregoing method is used by the Okyo
painters.

The Kano artists have another system for combining and elaborating the
leaf growth, but it does not differ radically from that here given.  The
leaf of the bamboo reproduces the shape of a carp’s body (34).  It also
resembles the tail feathers of the phoenix.  An oil is made from the
bamboo and is said to be good for people with quick tempers.  Many artists
adopt the name of bamboo for their nom de plume; witness, Chiku Jo, Chiku
Do, Chiku Sho, Chiku Den and the like.

It is said that the full moon casts the shadow of the bamboo in a way no
other light approaches.  The learned Okubu Shibutsu first observed this
and the discovery led to his becoming the greatest of all bamboo painters.
Nightly he used to trace with _sumi_ such bamboo shadows on his paper
window.  Sho Hin, a lady artist of Tokyo, enjoys a well-earned reputation
for painting bamboo.  She was a pupil of Tai Zan, a Kyoto representative
of the Chinese school.  The Kano painters much favored the subject of the
seven sages in the bamboo grove.  Bamboo grass (SASSA) is much painted by
all the schools.  It is very decorative.  There is a male and a female
bamboo; from the latter _(medake)_ arrows are made.  The uses to which man
puts the bamboo are surprisingly numerous, thus fortifying its claims to
be regarded a paragon.

The plum is the first tree of the year to bloom.  It has a dejicate
perfume.  Though the trunk of the tree grows old it renews its youth and
beauty every spring with vigorous fresh branches crowded with buds and
blossoms.  In old age the tree takes on the shape of a sleeping dragon.
With no other flower or tree are associated more beautiful and pathetic
folk-lore and historical facts.  For these and other reasons Rennasei
assigned to the plum its place as a paragon centuries and centuries ago.

The tree branches with their interlacings reproduce the spirit of the
Chinese character for woman, called JO JI (_Plate L_, No. 1).  The blossom
(2) is painted on the principle of IN YO, the upper portion of the petal
line being the positive or YO and the lower being the negative or IN side.
This is repeated five times for the five petals of the blossom (3). The
stamens (4) and pistils are reproductions of the Chinese character SHO,
meaning small.  For the calyx (5) the Chinese character for clove (CHO) is
invoked.

The great scholar and nobleman, Sugewara Michizane, particularly loved the
plum tree. Banished from his home, as he was leaving his grounds he
addressed that silent sentinel of his garden in the following verse, which
has earned immortality:

Do thou, dear plum tree, send out thy perfume when the east wind blows;
And, though thy master be no longer here,
Forget not to blossom always when the springtime comes.

In Japan the plum, though not eaten raw, when salted has wonderful
strength sustaining properties, and in wartime supplies as _ume boshi_ a
valuable concentrated food.

The chrysanthemum has been cultivated in China for four thousand years and
its fame was sung by the poet and scholar, To En Mei, who prized it above
all else under heaven and assigned it the rank of paragon.

When all Nature is preparing for the long sleep of winter and the red,
brown and golden forest leaves are dropping, spiritless, to the ground,
the chrysanthemum comes forth from the earth in fresh and radiant colors.
It gladdens the heart in the sad season of autumn.  Its clustered petals,
all united and never scattering, typify the family, the state, and the
Empire.  For the last six hundred years the sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum
has been the emblem of Imperial sovereignty in Japan.  With artists it has
always been a favorite flower subject.  There are innumerable ways of
painting it.

_Plate LI_ shows the chrysanthemum flower and leaves painted in the Okyo
manner.  There is an established order in which the leaves must be
executed. Viewed from the front (Nos. 1 and 2) the order of the brush
stroke is as indicated on the plate; viewed from the side the brush is
applied in the order indicated in Nos. 4 and 5.  The flower (6 and 7) is
built up from the bud (5), petals being added according to the effect
sought.  The flower half opened is shown in No. 6, and wholly opened in
No. 7.  The calyx somewhat reproduces the Chinese written character CHO.
The Kano painters have a different way of painting the chrysanthemum
leaves and flowers, but the foregoing illustrates the general principles
obtaining in all the schools.  Korin painted the KIKU in a manner quite
different from that of any other artist.  The word KIKU is Chinese, the
Japanese word for the flower being _kawara yomogi._  The Nagoya artists
have always been particularly skilful in painting the chrysanthemum in an
exceptionally engaging way.  The little marguerite-like blossom is called
_mame-giku,_ and is a universal favorite among all artists.

The impression produced on one who for the first time hears enumerated
these various laws may possibly be that all such methods for securing
artistic effects are arbitrary, mechanical and unnatural.  But in
practice, the artist who invokes their aid finds they produce invariably
pleasing and satisfactory results.  It must not be supposed that such laws
are exclusive of all other methods of painting in the Japanese style.  On
the contrary the artist is at liberty to use any other method he may
select provided the result is artistically correct.  Many painters have
invented methods of their own which are not included in the foregoing
enumeration of these laws of lines, dots and ledges, which, it must always
be borne in mind, are only to assist the artist who may be in doubt or
difficulty as to how he shall best express the effect he aims at.  It is
such second nature for him to employ them that he does so as unconsciously
as one in writing will invoke the rules of grammar.  It is related that a
great statesman, being asked if it were necessary for a diplomat to know
Latin and Greek, replied that it was quite sufficient for him to have
forgotten them.  And so with these laws.  A knowledge of them is a
necessary part of the education of every Japanese artist, for they lie at
the very foundation of the art of oriental painting.  Chinese writing
abounds with similar principles; it is a law applicable to one kind of
such writing, called REI SHO, that in each character there shall be one
stroke which begins with the head of a silkworm and terminates with a
goose’s tail.  This also may sound odd and seem forced, yet this law gives
a special and wonderful _cachet_ to the character so written.

Some acquaintance with these principles and methods invoked by artists
adds much to our keen enjoyment of their work, just as an analysis of the
chords in a musical composition increases our pleasure in the harmonies
they produce.  Ruskin has discovered in the very earliest art the frequent
use of simple forms suggested by the slightly curved and springing profile
of the leaf bud which, he declares, is of enormous importance even in
mountain ranges, when not vital but falling force is suggested.  “This
abstract conclusion the great thirteenth century artists were the first to
arrive at” (Ruskin’s Mod. Painters, Vol. III), and even in the
architecture of the best cathedrals that author detects the observance of
the law determining in an ivy leaf the arrangement of its parts about a
center.

In Japanese art simple forms supplied by nature are often used for
suggesting other forms as, for instance, the stork’s legs for the pine
tree branches, the turtle’s back for the pine bark lines, the fish tail
for bamboo leafage, the elephant’s eye in the orchid plant, the shape of
Fujiyama for the forehead of a beautiful woman, and various Chinese
characters, originally pictorial, adumbrated in trees, flowers and other
subjects.  The universality of such underlying type forms recognized and
applied by oriental artists is confirmatory of the principle that in both
nature and art all is united by a common chain or _commune vinculum_
attesting the harmony between created things.  A Japanese painting
executed with the aid of such resources teems with vital force and
suggestion, and to the eye of a connoisseur _(kuroto)_ becomes a breathing
microcosm.

To give some idea of the order in which the component parts of an object
are painted according to Japanese rules, which are always stringently
insisted upon, flowers like the chrysanthemum and peony are begun at their
central point and built up from within outwardly, the petals being added
to increase the size as the flower opens.  In a flower subject the
blossoms are painted first; the buds come next; then the stem, stalks,
leaves and their veinings, and lastly the dots called _chobo chobo._

The established order for the human figure is as follows: Nose and
eyebrows, eyes, mouth, ears, sides of the face, chin, forehead, head,
neck, hands, feet, and finally the appareled body.  In Japanese art the
nude figure is never painted.

In a tree the order is trunk, central and side limbs _(Plate XXI)_,
branches and their subdivisions, leaves and their veinings, and dots.

In birds: The beak in three strokes (TEN, CHI, JIN), the eye, the head,
the throat and breast, the back, the wings, the body, the tail, the legs,
claws, nails and eyeball _(Plate XXII)_.

In landscape work the general rule is to paint what is nearest first and
what is farthest last.  Kubota’s method was to do all this rapidly and, if
possible, with one dip of the well-watered brush into the _sumi,_ so that
as the _sumi_ becomes gradually diluted and exhausted the proper effect of
foreground, middle distance and remote perspective is obtained.

In painting mountain ranges that recede one behind the other the same
process is followed, and mountains as they disappear to the right or left
of the picture should tend to rise.  This principle is called BO UN or
cloud longing.

It is useless here to enumerate the many faults which art students are
warned against committing.  Suffice it to say the number is enormous.  Out
of many of the Chinese formulas I will give only one, which is known as
SHI BYO or the four faults, and is as follows:

JA, KAN, ZOKU, RAI.  JA refers to attempted originality in a painting
without the ability to give it character, departing from all law to
produce something not reducible to any law or principle.  KAN is producing
only superficial, pleasing effect without any _power_ in the brush
stroke—a characterless painting to charm only the ignorant. ZOKU refers to
the fault of painting from a mercenary motive only,—thinking of money
instead of art.  RAI is the base imitation of or copying or cribbing from
others.



 [Chapter 5 Head-Band: Maple leaves are associated with Ten Jin (Sugiwara
Michizane), patron of learning.  Children in invoking his aid in a little
 prayer count the points of the maple leaf, saying, “yoku te agar”—assist
   us to be clever. In Japanese the maple leaf is called kaide, meaning
                              frog’s hand.]


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 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 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 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 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 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 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 6 Head-Band: The chrysanthemum pattern.]


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,” 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. 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 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 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 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 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_ (_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, 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.]

       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 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). 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
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 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 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.



               [The water-fowl design, called midsu tori.]


CHAPTER SEVEN. SIGNATURES AND SEALS


There are many books upon the subject of signing and authenticating a
painting.  Two well-known works are “GWA JO YO RYAKU” and “DAI GA SHI
SAN.”  In China literary men often add descriptive matter to their
paintings, writing prominently thereon: “In a dream last night I witnessed
the scene I here attempt to reproduce,” or “On a boating excursion we saw
this pine tree shading the banks of the river.”  Such additions to the
picture enable the artist to exhibit his skill as an expert writer and are
considered to heighten the general effect.  Often original poetry takes
the place of prose.  The year, month and day will be added, followed by
the signature of the writer, with some self-depreciatory term, such as
“fisherman of the North Sea,” “mountain wood-chopper” or “hermit dwelling
amid the clouds and rocks.”  Such signature, with one or more seals
scattered over the face of the work, is in art called RAKKWAN, signifying
“completed.”

In Japan a somewhat different way of signing prevails. The artist’s
signature with his seal under it is appended to the painting, not in a
conspicuous but in the least prominent part of it.

Painters of the Tosa, Fujiwara, Sumiyoshi and Kasuga schools in signing
their work first wrote above their signatures their office and rank, _e.
g.,_ Unemi no Kami or Shikibu Gondai no Kami in the square or round
Chinese characters.

The Kano artists signed their names in round characters (GYO SHO) and did
not add their secular rank or office but wrote before their signatures
their Buddhist titles; thus, HOGAN Motonobu, HO KYO Naganobu, HOIN
Tsunenobu.  In the Maruyama period all titles and rank were omitted and
simply the name _(namae)_ or the _nom de plume_ (GO) was written,—thus,
Okyo, Goshun, Tessan, Bun Cho—strict attention being paid, however, to
executing the Chinese characters for such signatures in both an artistic
and strikingly attractive way, whether written in one or another of the
three usual forms technically called SHIN, SO, GYO.

The date, NEN GO, preceding the signature upon a painting is often
indicated by the use of one of the twelve horary characters (JU NI SHI)
along with one of the ten calendar signs (JU RAN).  These, in orderly
arrangement, comprehend a cycle of sixty years; in other words, they are
never united the same way or coincide but once during that period.  No
artist under sixty should, in signing his work, allude to his age, much
less state his years.  For him to be able to write seventy-seven before
his name is most auspicious—one way of writing _kotobuki,_ the luckiest
word in Japanese, being to employ two sevens which, thus compounded, is
said to be the SO SHO character for that word.  Very young persons are
permitted in signing their paintings or writings to add their exact ages
up to thirteen.

Where Chinese literary artists add poems to their paintings as many as
eight seals may be observed thereon.  In Japanese paintings never more
than two seals are used and these follow and authenticate the signature.

The correct distance at which a _kakemono_ is to be viewed is the width of
a mat _(tatami)_ from the alcove where the picture is hung.  It is bad
form to look at it standing.  Before critically examining the work a
Japanese will scrutinize the artist’s signature and seal.  It is a
cardinal rule in Japan that the signature be affixed so as not to
interfere with the scheme of the picture or attract the eye.  If the
picture looks to the right the signature and seal should be placed on the
left, and _vice versa;_ if the principal interest is in the upper part of
a picture these should be placed lower down, and _vice versa._  As every
painting has its division into IN and YO the RAKKWAN is placed in IN.
Some artists partially cover their signatures with their seal impression.
Lady artists add to their signatures the character JO, meaning woman.
Veteran painters will sometimes write before their signatures the
character for old man _(okina)._

The artist’s seal is often a work of art and his family name (MYOJI) or
his artist name (GO) is usually engraved thereon with the Chinese seal
characters called TEN SHO. Where two seals are affixed below the signature
one may contain a classic aphorism, like TAI BI FU GEN (the truly
beautiful is indescribable) or CHU YO (keep the middle path).  Before
seals were used writings were authenticated by scrolls called _kaki_ HAN.
Even now such scrolls are used.  The principles on which they are shaped
are derived from astrological lore (EKI).  Seal engravers deservedly enjoy
renown for learning and skill.  To carve a seal is the recognized
accomplishment of a gentleman, and the most famous living seal engraver in
Japan is an amateur.  Seals are of jade, rock crystal, precious woods,
Formosa bamboo root, gold, silver or ivory.  The best hard stone for seals
comes from China and is known as the cock’s comb (KEI KETSU SEKI).

An artist during his career will collect numbers of valuable seals for his
own use.  These at his death may be given to favorite pupils or kept as
house treasures.  Bairei left instructions to have many of his seals
destroyed.

The seal paste (NIKU) is made of Diana weed _(mogusa)_ dried for three
years, or of a plant called _yomogi,_ or with soft, finely chopped rabbit
hair boiled in castor oil for one hundred hours with white wax and then
colored red, brown, blue or tea color.  The seal should be carefully wiped
after it is used, otherwise this paste hardens upon it.

Japanese paintings are seldom framed, as frames take too much room.
Frames are used chiefly for Chinese writings, hung high in public places
or about the dwelling, and are called GAKU, meaning “forehead,” in
allusion to raising the head to read what the frame contains.  It is
etiquette that such framed writings be signed with the real name rather
than the _nom de plume._

Two kinds of seals are affixed to the frame: One, on the right, at the
beginning of the writing, and called YU IN, containing some precept or
maxim; and one or two, on the left, after the signature, bearing the
artist’s name and any other appropriate designation.  All writings in
Chinese or Japanese read from right to left, and frequently are the sole
ornament of a pair of screens.

For the guidance of experts who pass on the genuineness of Japanese
paintings there is a well-known publication, “GWA KA RAKKWAN IN SHIN,” by
Kano Jushin, which contains reproductions in fac simile of the signatures
and seals of all the celebrated artists of the remote and recent past.

In concluding this work, which I am conscious is but an imperfect survey
of a vast and intricate subject, I would call attention to the fact that
in both Europe and America there is a wonderful awakening to the dignity,
simplicity and beauty of Japanese art.  This is largely to be attributed
to the careful and scholarly writings and publications of Messrs.
Anderson, Binyon, Morrison and Strange in England, Fenollosa in the United
states, DeGoncourt, Gonse and Bing in France, Seidlitz in Germany, and
Brinkley and Okakura in Japan; and all students of art must render to them
the homage of their sincere admiration.

The object of all art, as Cicero has truly said, is to soften the manners,
by training the heart and mind to right thoughts and worthy sentiments.
To such end nothing will more surely contribute than a faithful study of
the painting art of Japan, and the further we investigate and appreciate
its principles the more we will multiply those hours which the sun-dial
registers,—the serene and cheerful moments of existence.



EXPLANATION OF HEAD-BANDS


DESIGN OF TITLE PAGE. Butterflies and birds, known as _cho tori_.

_CHAPTER ONE_. The flower and leaves of the peony (BOTAN), as
conventionalized on ancient armor (_yoroi_).

_CHAPTER TWO_. Fan-shaped leaves of the _icho_ or GIN NAN
(_Salisburiana_), placed in books in China and Japan to prevent the
ravages of the bookworm.

_CHAPTER THREE_. The design called “Dew on the Grass and Butterflies”
(_tsuyu, kusa ni cho_).

_CHAPTER FOUR_. The pattern (_moyo_) known as bamboo and the swelling
sparrow (_take nifukura susume_). The parts of the bird are amusingly
conventionalized—in the Korin manner. The word FUKURA written in Chinese
contains the lucky character FUKU (happiness).

_CHAPTER FIVE_. Maple leaves are associated with Ten Jin (Sugiwara
Michizane), patron of learning. Children in invoking his aid in a little
prayer count the points of the maple leaf, saying, “_yoku te
agaru_”—assist us to be clever. In Japanese the maple leaf is called
_kaide_, meaning frog’s hand.

_CHAPTER SIX_. The chrysanthemum pattern.

_CHAPTER SEVEN_. The water-fowl design, called _midsu tori_.



PLATES EXPLANATORY OF THE FOREGOING TEXT ON THE LAWS OF JAPANESE PAINTING



     The Eight Ways of Painting in Color, Called the Laws of Coloring


       (3) [Most Careful Method of Laying on Color.  Plate VIIII.]

          Most Careful Method of Laying on Color.  Plate VIIII.


                     [The Next Best Method. Plate X.]

                      The Next Best Method. Plate X.


                [The Light Water-Color Method. Plate XI.]

                 The Light Water-Color Method. Plate XI.


               [Color With Outlines Suppressed. Plate XII.]

                Color With Outlines Suppressed. Plate XII.


                     [Color Over Lines. Plate XIII.]

                      Color Over Lines. Plate XIII.


                 [Light Reddish-Brown Method. Plate XIV.]

                  Light Reddish-Brown Method. Plate XIV.


                      [The White Pattern. Plate XV.]

                       The White Pattern. Plate XV.


                  [The Black or Sumi Method. Plate XVI.]

                   The Black or Sumi Method. Plate XVI.



                   Landscapes, Birds, Trees and Streams


           [The Rule of Proportion in Landscapes. Plate XVII.]

            The Rule of Proportion in Landscapes. Plate XVII.


                    [Heaven, Earth, Man. Plate XVIII.]

                     Heaven, Earth, Man. Plate XVIII.


                     [Pine Tree Branches. Plate XIX.]

                      Pine Tree Branches. Plate XIX.


                       [Winding Streams. Plate XX.]

                        Winding Streams. Plate XX.


                    [A Tree and Its Parts. Plate XXI.]

                     A Tree and Its Parts. Plate XXI.


                 [Bird and Its Subdivisions. Plate XXII.]

                  Bird and Its Subdivisions. Plate XXII.



                              Laws of Ledges


  [Peeled Hemp-Bark Method for Rocks and Ledges (a) The Axe strokes (b).
                              Plate XXIII.]

  Peeled Hemp-Bark Method for Rocks and Ledges (a) The Axe strokes (b).
                               Plate XXIII.


    [Lines or Veins of Lotus Leaf (a). Alum Crystals (b). Plate XXIV.]

     Lines or Veins of Lotus Leaf (a). Alum Crystals (b). Plate XXIV.


    [Loose Rice Leaves (a). Withered Kindling Twigs (b). Plate XXV. ]

      Loose Rice Leaves (a). Withered Kindling Twigs (b). Plate XXV.


 [Scattered Hemp Leaves (a). Wrinkles on the Cow’s Neck (b). Plate XXVI.]

  Scattered Hemp Leaves (a). Wrinkles on the Cow’s Neck (b). Plate XXVI.



                         Laws of Trees and Rocks


[The Circle (1). Semi-Circle (2). Fish Scales (3). Moving Fish Scales (4).
                              Plate XXVII.]

The Circle (1). Semi-Circle (2). Fish Scales (3). Moving Fish Scales (4).
                               Plate XXVII.


  [Theory of Tree Growth (1). Practical Application (2). Grass Growth in
               Theory (3). In Practice (4). Plate XXVIII.]

  Theory of Tree Growth (1). Practical Application (2). Grass Growth in
                Theory (3). In Practice (4). Plate XXVIII.


   [Skeleton of a Forest Tree (1) Same Developed (2). Tree Completed in
                       structure (3). Plate XXIX.]

   Skeleton of a Forest Tree (1) Same Developed (2). Tree Completed in
                        structure (3). Plate XXIX.


[Perpendicular Lines for Rocks (1). Horizontal Lines for Rocks (2).  Rock
         Construction as Practiced in Art (3 and 4). Plate XXX. ]

 Perpendicular Lines for Rocks (1). Horizontal Lines for Rocks (2).  Rock
          Construction as Practiced in Art (3 and 4). Plate XXX.


        [Different Ways of Painting Rocks and Ledges. Plate XXXI.]

         Different Ways of Painting Rocks and Ledges. Plate XXXI.



                               Laws of Dots


         [Wistaria Dot (a). Chrysanthemum Dot (b). Plate XXXII.]

          Wistaria Dot (a). Chrysanthemum Dot (b). Plate XXXII.


          [Wheel-Spoke Dot (a). KAI JI Dot (b). Plate XXXIII. ]

            Wheel-Spoke Dot (a). KAI JI Dot (b). Plate XXXIII.


       [Pepper-Seed Dot (a). Mouse-Footprint Dot (b). Plate XXXIV.]

        Pepper-Seed Dot (a). Mouse-Footprint Dot (b). Plate XXXIV.


             [Serrated Dot (a). ICHI JI dot (b). Plate XXXV.]

              Serrated Dot (a). ICHI JI dot (b). Plate XXXV.


             [Heart Dot (a). HITSU JI Dot (b). Plate XXXVI.]

              Heart Dot (a). HITSU JI Dot (b). Plate XXXVI.


             [Rice Dot (a). HAKU YO Dot (b). Plate XXXVII. ]

               Rice Dot (a). HAKU YO Dot (b). Plate XXXVII.



                     Laws of Waves and Moving Waters


    [Waves (a). Different Kinds of Moving Waters (b). Plate XXXVIII. ]

     Waves (a). Different Kinds of Moving Waters (b). Plate XXXVIII.


             [Sea Waves (a). Brook Waves (b). Plate XXXIX. ]

               Sea Waves (a). Brook Waves (b). Plate XXXIX.


                        [Storm Waves. Plate XL. ]

                          Storm Waves. Plate XL.



                       Laws of Lines of the Garment


    [Silk-Thread Line (upper). Koto string Line (lower). Plate XLI. ]

      Silk-Thread Line (upper). Koto string Line (lower). Plate XLI.


   [Clouds, Water Lines (upper). Iron-Wire Line (lower). Plate XLII. ]

     Clouds, Water Lines (upper). Iron-Wire Line (lower). Plate XLII.


  [Nail-Head, Rat-Tail Line (upper). Tsubone Line (lower). Plate XLIII.]

   Nail-Head, Rat-Tail Line (upper). Tsubone Line (lower). Plate XLIII.


    [Willow-Leaf Line (upper). Angle-Worm Line (lower). Plate XLIV. ]

      Willow-Leaf Line (upper). Angle-Worm Line (lower). Plate XLIV.


  [Rusty-Nail and Old-Post Line (upper).   Date-Seed Line (lower). Plate
                                  XLV.]

Rusty-Nail and Old-Post Line (upper).   Date-Seed Line (lower). Plate XLV.


    [Broken-Reed Line (upper). Gnarled-Knot Line (lower). Plate XLVI.]

     Broken-Reed Line (upper). Gnarled-Knot Line (lower). Plate XLVI.


  [Whirling-Water Line (upper). Suppression Line (lower). Plate XLVII. ]

   Whirling-Water Line (upper). Suppression Line (lower). Plate XLVII.


    [Dry-Twig Line (upper). Orchid-Leaf Line (lower). Plate XLVIII. ]

      Dry-Twig Line (upper). Orchid-Leaf Line (lower). Plate XLVIII.


       [Bamboo-Leaf Line (upper). Mixed style (lower). Plate XLIX.]

        Bamboo-Leaf Line (upper). Mixed style (lower). Plate XLIX.



                        Laws of the Four Paragons


                  [The Plum Tree and Blossom. Plate L.]

                   The Plum Tree and Blossom. Plate L.


            [The Chrysanthemum Flower and Leaves. Plate LI. ]

              The Chrysanthemum Flower and Leaves. Plate LI.


                [The Orchid Plant and Flower. Plate LII.]

                 The Orchid Plant and Flower. Plate LII.


                [The Bamboo Plant and Leaves. Plate LIII.]

                 The Bamboo Plant and Leaves. Plate LIII.



                            Painting Subjects


 [Sunrise Over the Ocean (1). Horai San (2). Sun, storks and Tortoise (3,
                           4, 5). Plate LIV. ]

Sunrise Over the Ocean (1). Horai San (2). Sun, storks and Tortoise (3, 4,
                              5). Plate LIV.


[Fuku Roku Ju (1). The Pine Tree (2). Bamboo and Plum (3). Kado Matsu and
                Shimenawa (4). Rice Cakes (5). Plate LV. ]

 Fuku Roku Ju (1). The Pine Tree (2). Bamboo and Plum (3). Kado Matsu and
                 Shimenawa (4). Rice Cakes (5). Plate LV.


  [Sun and Waves (1).  Rice Grains(2). Cotton Plant (3). Battledoor (4).
                     Treasure Ship (5). Plate LVI. ]

  Sun and Waves (1).  Rice Grains(2). Cotton Plant (3). Battledoor (4).
                      Treasure Ship (5). Plate LVI.


[Chickens and the Plum Tree (1). Plum and Song Bird (2). Last of the Snow
  (3). Peach Blossoms (4). Paper Dolls (5). Nana Kusa (6). Plate LVII. ]

 Chickens and the Plum Tree (1). Plum and Song Bird (2). Last of the Snow
   (3). Peach Blossoms (4). Paper Dolls (5). Nana Kusa (6). Plate LVII.


[Cherry Trees (1). Ebb Tide (2). Saohime (3). Wistaria (4). Iris (5). Moon
                      and Cuckoo (6). Plate LVIII. ]

Cherry Trees (1). Ebb Tide (2). Saohime (3). Wistaria (4). Iris (5). Moon
                       and Cuckoo (6). Plate LVIII.


  [Carp (1). Waterfall (2). Crow and Snow (3). Kakehi (4). Tanabata (5).
                     Autumn Grasses (6). Plate LIX. ]

  Carp (1). Waterfall (2). Crow and Snow (3). Kakehi (4). Tanabata (5).
                      Autumn Grasses (6). Plate LIX.


[Stacked Rice and Sparrows (1). Rabbit in the Moon (2). Megetsu (3). Mist
          Showers (4). Water Grasses (5). Joga (6). Plate LX. ]

 Stacked Rice and Sparrows (1). Rabbit in the Moon (2). Megetsu (3). Mist
           Showers (4). Water Grasses (5). Joga (6). Plate LX.


 [Chrysanthemum (1). Tatsutahime (2). Deer and Maples (3). Geese and the
 Moon (4). Fruits of Autumn (5). Monkey and Persimmons (6). Plate LXI. ]

  Chrysanthemum (1). Tatsutahime (2). Deer and Maples (3). Geese and the
  Moon (4). Fruits of Autumn (5). Monkey and Persimmons (6). Plate LXI.


[Squirrel and Grapes (1). Kayenu Matsu (2). Evesco or Ebisu (3). Zan Kiku
             (4). First Snow (5). Oharame (6). Plate LXII. ]

 Squirrel and Grapes (1). Kayenu Matsu (2). Evesco or Ebisu (3). Zan Kiku
              (4). First Snow (5). Oharame (6). Plate LXII.


[Mandarin Ducks (1). Chi Dori (2). Duck Flying (3). Snow Shelter (4). Snow
                Scene (5). Snow Daruma (6). Plate LXIII. ]

Mandarin Ducks (1). Chi Dori (2). Duck Flying (3). Snow Shelter (4). Snow
                 Scene (5). Snow Daruma (6). Plate LXIII.


 [Crow and Plum (1). Bird and Persimmon (2). Nukume Dori (3). Kinuta uchi
                            (4). Plate LXIV. ]

 Crow and Plum (1). Bird and Persimmon (2). Nukume Dori (3). Kinuta uchi
                             (4). Plate LXIV.


      [Spring (1). Summer (2). Autumn (3). Winter (4). Plate LXV. ]

        Spring (1). Summer (2). Autumn (3). Winter (4). Plate LXV.


[Cha no Yu (1). Sen Cha (2). Birth of Buddha (3). Inari (4). Plate LXVI. ]

 Cha no Yu (1). Sen Cha (2). Birth of Buddha (3). Inari (4). Plate LXVI.



FOOTNOTES


    1 This is a translation from the original manuscript of IWAYA SHO HA,
      or Iwaya Sazanami, one of the most widely known and popular writers
      on Japanese folk-lore.

    2 Translated from the original manuscript of Hirai Kinza, noted
      scholar, lecturer and author.

    3 Preparer’s Note: The only editions available to me have these plates
      in black-and-white.





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