Day 92 - Spring and autumn screens
September 24, 2018
This gallery (225) has a small number of painted screens and scolls. A caption on the wall describes two major traditions of Japanese painting from about the 1600s forward: "Japanese" and "Chinese." From the little I can understand, it seems that "Japanese" paintings are those that incorporate traditional landscape themes, scenes from Japanese literature, and particular styles of representation (e.g., Rimpa). "Chinese" painting is marked by monochromatic palettes and virtuosic brushwork. All this said, I am incapable of distinguishing one from the other, at least based on the works on exhibit in this gallery.
The philistine idea that "I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like" comes to me in this room. (Actually, I'm a little surprised that it hasn't occurred to me sooner.) What I like is a set of two companion six-panel folding screens painted in the early 1820s by Sakai Hotsu, the same painter who painted the bodhisattva scroll I wrote about earlier. The two screens, if fully extended, would probably measure 24 feet long and perhaps 5 feet high and are painted on paper covered with warm gilding. The screen on the right shows a willow tree and a cherry tree whose white blossoms are like a breath of spring; the screen on the left depicts a red maple tree whose brilliant red leaves epitomize autumn, along with some fall flowers that might be white asters or mums. On either side, the top branches of the trees lean toward the middle, where there is a blank space perhaps thee feet across. The entire composition gives a sense of balance and symmetry, but the two screens are far from mirror images of each other. Each screen is beautiful on its own, but the whole is enhanced by the contrast, in particular, between the rich, vibrant fall colors and the delicate pink and white spring hues. The vegetation on the ground on either side is also different but complementary.
For whom were these screens made (or who bought them), I wonder, and where ware they placed? A very large space must have been needed to show off their full extent, and their beauty.
The philistine idea that "I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like" comes to me in this room. (Actually, I'm a little surprised that it hasn't occurred to me sooner.) What I like is a set of two companion six-panel folding screens painted in the early 1820s by Sakai Hotsu, the same painter who painted the bodhisattva scroll I wrote about earlier. The two screens, if fully extended, would probably measure 24 feet long and perhaps 5 feet high and are painted on paper covered with warm gilding. The screen on the right shows a willow tree and a cherry tree whose white blossoms are like a breath of spring; the screen on the left depicts a red maple tree whose brilliant red leaves epitomize autumn, along with some fall flowers that might be white asters or mums. On either side, the top branches of the trees lean toward the middle, where there is a blank space perhaps thee feet across. The entire composition gives a sense of balance and symmetry, but the two screens are far from mirror images of each other. Each screen is beautiful on its own, but the whole is enhanced by the contrast, in particular, between the rich, vibrant fall colors and the delicate pink and white spring hues. The vegetation on the ground on either side is also different but complementary.
For whom were these screens made (or who bought them), I wonder, and where ware they placed? A very large space must have been needed to show off their full extent, and their beauty.
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