Chapter One
The day before Kazan painted his portrait of Senseki, he painted another, most unusual portrait of a samurai. This samurai is dressed more or less the same as Senseki, but he is
smiling! It is rare in the portraiture of the world for the subject to be shown smiling, not quietly smiling like Mona Lisa but baring his teeth in a grin. Scholars who have commented on the picture admire the manner in which Kazan managed to capture the momentary flash of a smile, but they tend to dismiss the subject's expression as frivolous (
keihaku); they cannot forget that a samurai was supposed to smile only three times during his life: when he was born, was married, and had his first son. However, it is possible that the smiling samurai is none other than Senseki. A mole under the left nostril is common to both portraits, and the nose, eyes, and eyebrows are strikingly similar. The strongest reason for not accepting both as portraits of Senseki is that the crests on the
kamishimo (hemp jacket) that the two subjects wear are different. But I would like to think of Senseki as smiling.
In 1837 Kazan painted two portraits of Ichikawa Beian that some scholars consider his finest achievement. Both portraits are frontal views, and the expression is more or less the same. Both can also be described as realistic, but the expression in the earlier version is almost overpowering. The deep-set eyes, emphasized by the wrinkles, are the most remarkable feature of the face. The wen on the right side of Beian's face also is carefully delineated, as if to insist that the portrait is unsparingly accurate. Beian, in his fifty-ninth year at the time of the portrait, was known as one of the three great calligraphers of the late Tokugawa period, but little in his features or expression suggests an artistic temperament. The self-assertive intensity, emphasized by the black and white stripes of the kimono Beian wears, lingers in the viewer's memory. It is hard to imagine that anyone after seeing the portrait would have wished to meet him.
The finished portrait produces a dissimilar impression. The portrait is obviously of the same man, but the features are composed rather than intense. Even though some of the individuality has been lost, it is a superbly executed work. In this version, Beian wears a dark green kimono and eboshi headgear, both con- firming that he is a man of high rank. The wen is there, but the eyes have lost the harshness of his gaze. Beian was pleased with the portrait and, by way of payment, gave Kazan an album of Chinese paintings.
In his remembrances of Kazan, Miyake Tomonobu relates that after Kazan had been arrested, an exhibition of his paintings and calligraphy was held. Beian was one of the many famous people who attended. A certain gentleman (Tomonobu was told that it was Fujita Toko, a Confucian scholar from Mito) asked Beian, "Do you know Kazan?" Beian replied, "No, I don't. Where's he from?" The gentleman asked, "Then who painted your portrait?" Beian, at a loss for words, colored and left. Tomonobu's comment was, "Probably when Kazan was incarcerated, all kinds of rumors were going around, and Beian said what he did for fear he might be suspected of being involved. Everybody present spoke ill of his coldness."
It is difficult to believe this story. If Beian wished people to think that he had no connection with Kazan, why would he have attended an exhibition of Kazan's paintings where he was sure to attract attention? But even if the anecdote is apocryphal, it indicates that people were aware of Beian's reluctance to be associated with the disgraced Kazan and that he was disliked for refusing to stand by Kazan.
These portraits show a strong Western influence. Kazan could not have painted them if he had not seen any Dutch pictures. As Tomonobu recalled,
Western paintings always intoxicated Sensei. He never failed to buy, without begrudging the cost, anything with a picture on it, even scraps of paper or odd volumes. At that time, however, Western art was extremely scarce in the capital. Although he commissioned Hatazaki Kanae to buy whatever there was available, most pictures were old engravings and suchlike things. Later, when Dutch lithographs began to appear in the market, he bought them. He praised the marvelous skill of Western artists and studied their techniques. For example, when painting a deep red peony, he would use a lighter red for the surface of the blossom on which sunlight falls; this was following the Western principle of chiaroscuro. This deserves to be called a brand-new technique, never before employed in Japan. He also wished to paint in oils, but although he went so far as to paint Fuji and various other scenes, he was not accustomed to the paints or the brushes, and he discarded these paintings half-finished. I myself have seen them.
Kazan's portraits, rather than his paintings in other styles or the striking events of his career, have given him lasting fame. They maintain their vital conviction without respect to the identity of the people portrayed or the times. However, if one studies the circumstances under which these masterpieces were painted, one may be startled to discover that 1837, the year in which Kazan painted the portraits of Takami Senseki and Ichikawa Beian, was the worst of the famine that afflicted the whole country. Acutely aware of his responsibility as a high-ranking official, Kazan made every effort to provide food for the people of the domain. He was notably successful; although many died elsewhere, not one person in Tahara starved.
In the same year Kazan, alarmed by reports of foreign ships in waters near Tahara, painted pictures of Russian and British flags for printing and distribution to coastal villages so that the villagers would recognize any foreign ships that might come into sight. His favorite sibling, his brother Goro, whose portraits (as a small child and as a youth) Kazan had painted, also died in 1837. The famine and this personal tragedy undoubtedly affected Kazan deeply, but he went on painting, not only the portraits but Ducks in the Reeds in Moonlight, Smoky Rain in Summer Mountains, Little Birds amid Peach Blossoms, and other uncontroversial works in traditional bunjinga style. Somehow he found the strength to rise above misfortune and maintain his devotion to art. Or perhaps he painted in order to feed his family during the terrible famine.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Frog in the Wellby Donald Keene Copyright © 2006 by Donald Keene. Excerpted by permission.
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