On the Laws of Japanese Painting: An Introduction to the Study of the Art of Japan

Introduction by Iwaya Sazanami1

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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 [pg vi] 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,

Introduction by Hirai Kinza2

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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 [pg viii] 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,

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KEN WAN CHOKU HITSU

A firm arm and a perpendicular brush


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.

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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 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 [pg 5] 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 [pg 6] 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 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 [pg 8] 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. [pg 9] 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 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 His next step in education is to learn to write these same sounds in a different script, called 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 [pg 10] 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 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 [pg 11] 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 [pg 12] and contained in a shallow box or tray. This gentle little art is called bonsai or 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 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 [pg 13] 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 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 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 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 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, [pg 16] 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, 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.

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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 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 [pg 18] his pigments. Korin has never had his equal as a painter on lacquer. His work is said to be 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 [pg 19] 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 Among the many able foreign writers on Japanese prints Fenollosa stands prominent. He resided for a long time in Japan, understood and spoke the [pg 27] 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, 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 [pg 29] 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 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, 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 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 In Japanese painting no oils are used. 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 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 The Kano artists used both 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 There are strict, and when once understood, reasonable and helpful laws for the use of the [pg 33] brush (yohitsu), the use of 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 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 [pg 35] 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 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 [pg 36] 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 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 [pg 37] 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 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 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 Many artists become wonderfully expert in the use of the flat brush, from one to four inches wide, called 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 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 In using It is very important while painting with By the dexterous use of The mineral character of the The most valuable stone for The skilful use of water colors is called sesshoku. It is more difficult to paint with 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 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 The light water-color method, called tan sai (Plate XI), is employed in the ordinary style of painting The most interesting form of painting, technically called bokkotsu (Plate XII), is that in which all outlines are suppressed and 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 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 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 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 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 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 [pg 47] 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— 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 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 [pg 48] through an open window, and all cramped or forced appearance is avoided. The 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 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 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 [pg 49] 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 [pg 50] 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.

[pg 51]

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 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 [pg 52] 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, 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 Again, in snow scenery the Kano artists first paint the bottom of the snow-line and then by shading 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 [pg 54] 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).

[pg 55]

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 [pg 56] 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 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.

[pg 57]

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 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 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 [pg 59] 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 [pg 60] 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 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 [pg 62] 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.

[pg 63]

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, [pg 64] much employed by Tosa artists and used for the formal, stiffly searched garments of court nobles, 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 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 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 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.

[pg 66]

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 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 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 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 [pg 67] 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 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 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 [pg 69] 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 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 [pg 70] 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 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.

[pg 71]

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 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 [pg 72] 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 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 [pg 74] sound odd and seem forced, yet this law gives a special and wonderful 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 [pg 75] chain or 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 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 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.

[pg 77]

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 This is not an imaginary principle but a strictly enforced law of Japanese painting. The student is incessantly admonished to observe it. Should his subject be a tree, he is urged when painting it to feel the strength which shoots through the branches [pg 78] and sustains the limbs. Or if a flower, to try to feel the grace with which it expands or bows its blossoms. Indeed, nothing is more constantly urged upon his attention than this great underlying principle, that it is impossible to express in art what one does not first feel. The Romans taught their actors that they must first weep if they would move others to tears. The Greeks certainly understood the principle, else how did they successfully invest with imperishable life their creations in marble?

In Japan the highest compliment to an artist is to say he paints with his soul, his brush following the dictates of his spirit. Japanese painters frequently repeat the precept:

The Japanese artist is taught that even to the placing of a dot in the eyeball of a tiger he must first feel the savage, cruel, feline character of the beast, and only under such influence should he apply the brush. If he paint a storm, he must at the moment realize passing over him the very tornado which tears up trees from their roots and houses from their foundations. Should he depict the seacoast with its cliffs and moving waters, at the moment of putting the wave-bound rocks into the picture he must feel that they are being placed there to resist the fiercest movement of the ocean, while to the waves in turn he must give an irresistible power to carry all before them; thus, by [pg 79] this sentiment, called living movement (sei do), reality is imparted to the inanimate object. This is one of the marvelous secrets of Japanese painting, handed down from the great Chinese painters and based on psychological principles—matter responsive to mind. Chikudo, the celebrated tiger painter (Plate VI), studied and pondered so long over the savage expression in the eye of the tiger in order to reproduce its fierceness that, it is related, he became at one time mentally unbalanced, but his paintings of tigers are inimitable. They exemplify sei do.

From what has been said it will be appreciated why, in a Japanese painting, so much value is attached to the strength with which the brush strokes are executed An oil painting can be rubbed out and done over time and again until the artist is satisfied. A Japanese artists are not bound down to the literal presentation of things seen. They have a canon, called Every painting to be effective must be 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 A correctly executed Japanese painting in It is related that Okubo Shibutsu, famous for painting bamboo, was requested to execute a There are no people in the world who have a higher idea of the dignity of art than the Japanese and it is a principle with them that every painting worthy of the name should reflect that dignity, should testify to its own worth and thus justly impress with sentiments of admiration those to whom it may be shown. This intrinsic loftiness, elevation or worth is known in their art by the term ki in. Without this quality the painting, artistically considered and critically judged, must be pronounced a failure. Such picture may be perfect; in proportion and design, correct in brush force and faultless in color scheme; it may have complied with the principles of in yo, and ten, chi, jin or heaven, earth and man; it may have scrupulously observed all the rules of lines, dots and ledges and yet if ki in be wanting the painting has failed as a work of true art. What is this subtle something called ki in?

In our varied experiences of life we all have met with noble men and women whose beautiful and [pg 83] elevating characters have impressed us the moment we have been brought into relation with them. The same quality which thus affects us in persons is what the Japanese understand by ki in in a painting. It is that indefinable something which in every great work suggests elevation of sentiment, nobility of soul. From the earliest times the great art writers of China and Japan have declared that this quality, this manifestation of the spirit, can neither be imparted nor acquired. It must be innate. It is, so to say, a divine seed implanted in the soul by the Creator, there to unfold, expand and blossom, testifying its hidden residence with greater or lesser charm according to the life spent, great principles adhered to and ideals realized. Such is what the Japanese understand by ki in. It is, I think, akin to what the Romans meant by 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 An especially appropriate picture for this season of great festivity is called “the pine at the gate” During January a very popular picture for the alcove February—The cock and the hen, with the budding plum branch, are now appropriate. The subject is known as the “plum and chickens” March—This month is associated with the peach blossom, and April—The wistaria flower May—There are many subjects appropriate for May. The iris June—In this warm month the gwa dai or picture subject is waterfalls (Plate LIX, 2), although it is [pg 91] quite allowable on account of the heat of summer to suggest cool feelings by painting snow scenes with crows (setchu July—During this month appropriate among flower subjects is that of the seven grasses of autumn 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 September—The ninth day of the ninth month is the festival of the chrysanthemum (kiku no sekku), when 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 November—A month sacred to Evesco, one of the jovial gods of good luck (Plate LXII, 3). He was the first trader, his stock being the tai fish. He is the favorite god of the merchants who, during this month, celebrate his festival. Evesama is usually represented returning from fishing with a tai under his arm. The Kano artists particularly favored this subject. Another charming picture, known as “the last of the chrysanthemums” (zan kiku) (Plate LXII, 4), suggests the approaching close of the year. The classic way to represent this subject [pg 94] is with small, yellow chrysanthemums clinging to a straggling bamboo fence, with a few of their leaves which have begun to turn crimson. Another November picture is “the first snow” December—The cold weather chrysanthemum (kan kiku), the narcissus or hermit of the stream (sui sen), and the snow shelter of rice straw The snow man or snow The four seasons (shi ki) form a series susceptible of the most varied and engaging treatment and presentation. The seasons are sometimes symbolized [pg 96] by flowers, occasionally by birds, again by the products of the earth, and often by landscapes.

Sometimes human figures are used for the purpose. In spring Historical subjects (rekishi gwa dai) suitable for Japanese painting are extremely numerous subjects and are divided into categories corresponding to the following periods: The Nara, the Heian or Kyoto, the Kamakura Yoritomo shogunate, the Higashiyama shogunate, the Yoshimasa shogunate, the Momoyama or Taiko Hideyoshi, and the Tokugawa Iyeyasu shogunate brought down to the present Meiji period. These with their numerous subdivisions supply an infinite number of subjects for [pg 97] pictorial treatment. Special favorites are “Benkei and Yoshitsune at the Go Jo bridge,” or “passing through the Hakone barrier,” and “Kusanoki Masashige at Minatogawa.”

When Shaka was born he stood erect, with one Buddhist hand pointing upward and the other downward and exclaimed: “Behold, between heaven and earth I am the most precious creation.” His birthday is the subject of the picture (Plate LXVI, 3) called kan butsu ye. It represents the Buddha as a bronze statue erect in a tub of sweet liquid. This the faithful worshippers pour over his head and subsequently drink for good luck. Shaka's death is commemorated in the picture called nehan, nirvana. The lord, Buddha, is stretched upon a bier tranquilly dying, an angelic smile lighting his countenance, while around are gathered his disciples, Rakkan and Bosatsu, and the different animals of creation, all weeping. A rat having gone to call Mayabunin, mother of Buddha, has been pounced upon by a cat and torn to pieces. For this reason in paintings of this moving scene of Shaka's death no cat is to be found among the mourning animals. The artist Cho Densu, however, in his great painting of nehan (still preserved in the Temple To Fuku Ji at Kyoto) introduces the portrait of a cat. It is related that, while Cho Densu was painting, the cat came daily to his side and continually mewing and expressing its grief, would not leave him. Finally Cho Densu, out of pity, painted the cat into the picture and thereupon the animal out of joy fell over dead.

[pg 98]

The lotus The principal I will only refer in passing to the many subjects supplied by the beautiful poetry (hokku and Other subjects unassociated with any special time of the year represent, 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.”

[pg 101]

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, 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 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 [pg 102] most auspicious—one way of writing 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 The artist's seal is often a work of art and his family name (myoji) or his artist name (go) is usually [pg 103] 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 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 Japanese paintings are seldom framed, as frames take too much room. Frames are used chiefly for Chinese writings, hung high in public places or [pg 106] 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 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.

[pg 105]

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 CHAPTER ONE. The flower and leaves of the peony (botan), as conventionalized on ancient armor ( CHAPTER TWO. Fan-shaped leaves of the CHAPTER THREE. The design called “Dew on the Grass and Butterflies” ( CHAPTER FOUR. The pattern ( 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, CHAPTER SIX. The chrysanthemum pattern.

CHAPTER SEVEN. The water-fowl design, called

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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