Haku Maki Poem 43

This image is a poem written in ancient characters. It is simple letters super-imposed, the letters are untinged and outlined in black. The background is a deep blue marbled black, giving a more calm mood and a very aqua-appearance. It is remarkably small, forcing the viewer to pay close attention, 8.75" x 6.5". The poem is symmetrical, and with little attention to style, more child-like, simplistic renderings. It may have been purposely cryptic, considering that the woodblock was made in 1969. This style may actually fit into the 'hippie', calm notions of the late 60s early 70s. Unfortunately the meaning of this poem is not known, but presumably it would relate to the calm ambiance of the colors framing it. Haku Maki was actually originally from China, but studied in Japan as a sōsaku hanga artist, known for his abstract-calligraphic prints to produce "striking and serene images" (http://www.artelino.com/articles/haku-maki.asp) He is best known 
for his work in the book “Festive Wine: Ancient Japanese Poems 
from the Kinkafu”, a translation of 21 ancient poems called 
Kinkafu or “Music for Wagon Songs”. 

Crow On A Branch (#08 / 2006.044)

It is a strikingly simple design. The paper is is good condition, faded but unscratched and uncreased. The individual brushstrokes are not particularly discernible, but are still portrayed as clean, thick and purposeful, indicating a generally good quality printing as well. At the top of the black outlined frame, however, the blue of the sky runs a little outwards, and a blank space without sky is created, but apart from this centrification issue, the printer accurately captured the painting. It is difficult to tell whether or not the lines are sharp or dull, owing to the way the colors, similar hues of grey and black, merge, as opposed to a more delicate composition of fine lines and more complicated details might not. The colors themselves are somewhat faded, though the nature of black is always deep and it is unclear whether or not the blue is intentionally light or whether time made it so.


Moving away from the condition of the print, one notes that the subject is very uncomplicated: a crow on a branch, as the title reflects. Although a common image, certainly not unique to Japan alone, the black bird alone on the branch conveys a sense of serenity and independence, coming from the simplicity and solace of the dark bird against a light, optimistic background. The season in which the image takes place is unclear, although the lack of leaves on the tree may indicate winter. At the same time, it may be more symbolically created without leaves, making the grey and black colors of the bird and tree the same in order to unify them in their natural relationship and element. There is no discernible narrative, though an apt genre might be a reverence for nature. Instead the image is a captured, still moment that may be intentionally created as a moment at any time, an emotional response from any story. The print may be trying to convey a sense of strength and wisdom to the viewer, emphasized by the simplicity of the subject matter and chosen colors. The illusion of the future and a sense of reflection is also indicated in the birds gaze out into the open sky, his perch and the image's center placed heavily on the left side of the image. A contemporary viewer in the painting's time may find it easy to identify with, drawn more by the emotional response than another more entertaining, decorative piece. The print was created to appeal to many and all audiences, with a simple theme and simple message apt in various occasions, a call to independence/reflection and an appreciation of nature.


Formal aspects of the print include the right-centered format, branches struck outwards against the sky. The focus is on the bird and the tree, almost one by that dark, black-grey color, and how both point to the distance of the empty blue sky on the left. There is little direction, the image could be viewed from multiple perspectives, though interestingly it is placed eye level with the viewer, and not up higher or at a distance like it might be observed in reality. There are three elements: the bird, the tree, and the sky. The bird and tree come together, the tree supporting the bird and the bird crafting the personality of the tree by its own gaze and presence. Both are placed sharply against the blue backdrop of the sky, which serves to highlight their color as well as offer a contrast into an otherwise forlorn mood connoted by black, giving perspective and a sense of the future; allowing the bird to look pensively up into the sky. It is a static image because no movement is indicated nor is it necessary for the image's purpose. Shen Nanpin was a realist in the Song Dynasty, and so the attempt of shadow and sculpted mass, as opposed to two-dimensional images, is evident. The image is of chuban (10w x 7.5h) size and not part of a triptych; there is no indication of more tree or the view of the bird.


Evocatively, the viewer gains a sense of calmness and independence, and may think conceptually of loneliness, determination, the future, the simplicity of a bird's life, nature- or some combination thereof. It is sad and reflexive by nature because of the dark colors, the pensive look and the unblossomed tree. The message conveyed may be one connecting the solitary, thoughtful bird to us; a deeper connection to nature, our similarities and gratitude of it, is also insinuated.


Birds are symbolized frequently throughout various different cultures. Interestingly, the most popular Japanese birds in art, the crane and chidori (shore bird), are not depicted in this image, instead there is a more discreet, less beautiful common bird. However, birds are generally used in Japan as motifs for their ability to conquer strong winds and high waves during migration. They can also symbolize longevity and good luck. This particular image may have originally little symbolic intent though, as Shen Nanpin was known more for emphasis on realism and was a native of China rather than Japan, though he studied in Nagasaki for three years. He schooled others in three-dimensional thought and even influencing Katsushika Hokusai, known for his series "Thirty-six views of Mount Fuji". This print is actually from a collection dedicated to great artists in calligraphy and painting and is a copy of the original work. Such Japanese 'copy books' are commonly used to document important and influential works so that they may be spread, learned from and appreciated. 

Tamoto Kenzo Ainu Woman seaweed ca.1900

Her gaze is the first thing one notices. It is a remarkably human, vulnerable look, brows furrowed with a worried and tired gaze aimed directly at the viewer. But if not for the title, you might not even realize it was a woman; the clothes she wears are loose, plain and ambiguous. Her hair is chopped short. Further from being undecorated, her mouth and head are wrapped. Her work is coarse; picking up clumps of sticky seaweed from some abandoned shore. Small, simple houses, perhaps the workings of a village, are seen at a distance.


Instinctively you are inclined to categorize the woman as a poor one, judging by her clothes, her choice of work, the toughness with which she complies in her task and the weakness in her eyes. This may very well be, however, a typical chore and the inquisitive glance one of irritation at the interruption of the photographer. But the outline of her lips indicate more of a sigh as they are slack, rather than in a tight frown, though it is difficult to tell, more complementary of sadness than of anger. It is not an enviable task, and therefore may be easily considered more obligatory, and certainly not a career choice- more evidence for a poorer lifestyle. However, given the time period, this work may also be typical for those who dwelled outside of the more 'urban' areas of Japan and comparison to neighbors, the woman may be average.  


Interestingly, she is alone, solely in charge of the seaweed. First this means that it is not a 'work force task', requiring many people. But it also contributes to a feeling of melancholy, one initiated by her troubled gaze and deepened by the monotonous, strange task. Seaweed itself is a very slimy, unattractive and unappealing flora. Making the village distant also adds to the image's mood.  photographer may have wanted to capture a moment in daily life, and in an instant it is conveyed by her gaze, which is strategically in the center of the photo. It is almost challenging, to look her in they eye as she does what could very well be man's work. 


The picture is intriguing because of the sense of rawness, a simple task and a simple woman working. Seaweed and the sea are crucial to Japanese culture, being an island, food and culture fundamentally revolve around the sea, as exemplified today by the ever-popular sushi. But that vision is remarkably reduced by the simplicity and pureness of this image. It is a captivating shot, in which the viewer is provoked by her stare and feels as if she ought to be helped, even if unsure of what from. 

New Home, New Experiances

I am a farmer's son. We recently had to give up our home due to a monsoon that destroyed our land. My father   is now searching for a new land, and prospecting many different villages. I never expected to travel so far, nor have I had any experience with larger, more urban villages. Five images in particular have impressed themselves upon me along the way. 


The first was just this creek bend, a little while away from my old home.

I never knew it existed, because we were on the other side of that mountain, to the right. And I was shocked to see that the land was untouched by the heavy rainfall; my father explained that the valley almost functioned like a drain so it was equally spread. It makes the mountain look so big, with this meek river snaking through. It is very different, looking up at the mountain and across the river, rather than down from the mountain and at eye level with gushing water. I realized how hills work. They are beautiful and dangerous, like the river. I admired the man I saw, crouched down to the left. First he is insignificant, but it is his insignificance that then makes him bold. 


But I knew nature. I had known it, sown it- since I was born. What we came across a few days later, I had never before experienced. 



It took me by surprise, suddenly coming out of the woods to a neat fence, guiding our way down, and hosting a splendid view of tidy fields and organized houses. The crowded village gives way to the sea, in a clash that fascinated me. How could so many people reap the benefits of the sea? Were there enough fish? I had only ever seen few fishermen share a wharf, and never anyone who chose to live nestled up to the temperamental sea. I could not believe how neatly planned the town was. Nature here was so manipulated, from the fence cut into the rock, to the houses along the shore, with the closely-plotted fields taking up every ounce of land in between. It was a groomed nature, and I didn't know if I liked it, but I was certainly impressed with how the villagers had tamed it. 


Then, of course, came the villagers themselves. 



She looked at me curiously. Casually. I shouldn't have been peeking in the window anyway, but I suppose her mind was wondering as the shampooer performed his massage and she caught my eye. I didn't know you could pay someone to rub your muscles. I thought that's what mothers were for. It seemed kind of silly to me, all the tools and pampering, when you could just stretch out on a mat and do it yourself. I guess we didn't have the luxury of having people to do it for you, so it struck me as kind of a silly, lazy thing. But I wondered if I wasn't a little jealous. She seems so calm, all the tools splayed out on the floor, the man easy with his work and the second women, ever attentive. The main woman just looks like a queen, spoilt in this pretty room. She wasn't particularly well-dressed, I thought, but I didn't know much about women's clothing, I didn't know that it was the lowly entertainers who showed off, and that it was the posh women who wore their modesty proudly.


And then I fell in love.



It may have only been for a second, but I'm sure that's what love feels like. I still wish I had got her name. She was practicing a dance, not yet in dance clothes, but caught off guard when she saw me, she was clearly in her element. Poised. She was so young! I couldn't believe someone so young was already employed. I only found out later that it wasn't much of a choice, and that her profession was a constraining one. She must have been poorer than I was, to have been so quickly 'bought' and 'sold.' But at that moment, she was just a girl, in common clothing. Just a kettle at her side, a fan carefully in her arm. Natural, in an unnatural stance, and it makes you wonder about her, what she was thinking. What her life must be like. 


We grew tired of the villages. My father did not like them. Nor did my younger siblings, who were used to open spaces and unaccustomed to the formalities required in the cities. We hiked a little more, and then stumbled upon this view.


Here. Here is where we now live. 

It is beautiful. It is is not too hilly like home, but it is wide, bountiful and green, with just a trace of a mountain in the distance. There are no crowded villages, no fields to compete with. The simplicity, straightness of the horizon is becoming to me, even after it seems that we have come so far just to be back at some place like we started. I can't imagine living anywhere else. Maybe farming is in my blood, because I know this image might be nothing but boring to the boys from the village. But trees, soil- they're all you need, and they're beautiful unto themselves. You don't need a sea, a village, a people- anything to frame it. It just is; raw. And it's better that way. 

Globe trotting

There is something very serene about this image. The Buddha is the central focus, a cool blue grey stone, framed by greenery. He rests atop a simple base, an elegant alter before him which is being made use of  at the moment the photo was taken. In the foreground you can see a wooden ladder, making the image more casual and modern than if it had been left out and demonstrating how the statue is perceived and used. 

This communicates the enormity of the Buddha, and impresses his significance upon the viewer. The natural setting he is in implies that he is indeed one with peace, as his relaxed, meditative position already shows. The most intriguing part of the picture is the interaction of people with the statue. The distant, peaceful atmosphere of the statue is tainted with their presence, the man leaning against him casually, observing the photographer, is almost disrespectful as he is out of place. The women looks caught off guard, turning to face the photographer. If anything, this photo takes a natural, religious idea of the Buddha and exemplifies how it is applied in modern, daily life.

This lightly colored, carefully composed image possesses a calmness and symmetry. Two woman are bowed facing one another, and the sunlight fills the wide, fairly empty room. There are few things within the room besides the women and the small objects in front of them, emphasizing space. By extension, it emphasizes simplicity, and the beauty in it. The pastel colors add to this theme. The photograph is also at an interesting angle, placing the subjects not directly in front of it nor as a profile but at an almost awkward diagonal. This seems to demonstrate the naturalness of the scene, as if just coming upon it and observing it in its natural state rather than focusing on a more professional, direct photographic angle. The scene is light, natural, simple and perhaps that is why I as the viewer am so taken by it.