“As
I grow older, I have stopped having lush dreams,
Even one hibiscus tree by the pond is too much for me.”
—Su
Shi (Su Dongpo; 1037-1101)
Melancholic
crush of age, eloquently quantified in the words of Su Shi, Northern Song
dynasty poet, who distilled the siphon of tremulous beauty and grand aspiration
in two measured lines. With his Spartan denial of those chimerical yearnings
that ease the passage of time, the poet’s vital illusions fell away
with the rush of years. An unknown painter deftly captured Su Shi’s
metaphysical starkness, his reductive humanity and isolation in the face
of natural splendor, in Su Shi in a Straw Hat and Sandals (Japanese,
Muromachi period (1392-1573), before 1460), a scene from legend set late
in the scholar-official’s life when he was exiled for three harsh
years to an island off the coast of Guangdong Province—precipitating
his death. Ragged brush strokes speak of Su’s devastation, while
predatory ink conjures a bleak environment of palpable hostility, but
it is the painting’s deeply empathetic inscriptions by five Zen
monks that bring resonance to his tragedy.
Profound
dimensions of personal expression within the Zen pantheon are the cornerstone
of Awakenings: Zen Figure Painting in Medieval Japan, the wholly
sublime and ever fascinating exhibition at Japan Society in New York City,
fittingly mounted on the institution’s centennial anniversary. On
view from March 28-June 17, 2007, Awakenings is the first United States
museum exhibition in over thirty years to delve into the consequence and
genesis of figural painting in the implementation, operation, and continuation
of religious lineage in medieval Japanese (Zen) and Chinese (Chan) monastic
environments.
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As a number
of pieces in the exhibition rarely travel or leave Japan, the gallery
space fairly radiates a rarified, hallowed aura, further heightened by
the presence of one Japanese National Treasure and eleven Important Cultural
Properties. The sheer sweep of history neutralizes any persistently anachronistic
thoughts of modern strife, and the metaphysical traveler is immersed.
Spanning the 13th through 16th centuries, forty-seven painted masterworks
impart flesh on legend, manifesting compelling representations of Bodhidharma,
(fig. 2) the Buddha Sakyamuni and assorted bodhisattvas, and the First
Patriarch of Chan/Zen within the microcosm of their immediate spheres,
as well as the macrocosm of communities without.
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In crafting
an innate understanding of the Zen world, and those who inhabited its
realms (fig. 3), the exhibition—co-organized by Japan Society and
the Agency for Cultural Affairs of Japan, and the Independent Administrative
Institution National Museum of Japan (Tokyo National Museum, Kyoto National
Museum, Nara National Museum and Kyushu National Museum)—excels
in conjuring an “ideal self”. Co-curators with great spiritual
sensitivity and a robust, vivid eye for the aesthetic eclecticism necessary
to successfully usher viewers of diverse backgrounds into this alien and
sacred space, Yukio Lippit, Assistant Professor, Department of the History
of Art & Architecture, Harvard University, and Gregory Levine, Associate
Professor, Department of History of Art, University of California, Berkeley,
have created rooms of profound contemplation. Dwelling in these constructed
monk’s cells, one not only senses an intense wave of connectivity
between the various works themselves, but also feels the vaporous trails
of myriad silent dialogues between visitors and individual paintings—the
encompassing vision and embodiment of the accrued knowledge of Yoshiaki
Shimizu, Professor of Japanese Art History, Princeton University, who
is Senior Advisor for Awakenings.
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In presenting
those painted fusuma-e (sliding door panels) and wall scroll
paintings that best evoke Zen Buddhist monks in their spirit-infused states—sleeping,
dreaming, walking, and reaching awakening—the exhibition never fails
to elicit the unbridled individuality of both subject and artist. Animated
brushwork, inventive compositions, and resoundingly idiosyncratic visual
stylizations invoke a host of mythic personalities inhabiting striking
environs: the stark, graphic proportions and disarming intimacy of Muqi’s
Slumbering Budai (fig. 4); Kano Masanobu’s giddily rumpled
Hotei, hirsute icon and walking Mandlebrot Set, crafted from
a seemingly endless series of right angles (fig. 5); Kao’s The
Shrimp Eater (one of several equally enchanting crustacean devourers
on Japan Society’s gallery walls), reveling in its blasphemous delight
(fig. 6); the stunning transparency of Yue Hu’s White-Robed
Kannon, spun in calligraphic lines which pool liltingly before dissolving
into churning water (fig. 7).
Standing
alone in the third and final room of Awakenings, there is a place
where one can gaze out into the largest gallery space and see only blank
walls, a spot where not a single piece of art work is visible, and all
points converge on a moment of visual silence. A step in either direction
brings tantalizing vistas—serpentine folds on the garment of the
Fish-Basket Kannon (fig. 8), oceans that rear up with the ferocity
of dragons, the golden slippers of Shun’oku Myoha (fig.
9). But sometimes it is enough to step away from all that which is known,
to find a new face in the clouds. (fig. 10)
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