Japanese Samurai Exhibition on loan at the Chong-Moon Lee Center for Asian Art and Culture (San Francisco Exhibit/Review)
[Barbara Bornet Stumph is a retired teacher, author, and painter. The international web site she manages for people who wish to learn about Chinese Brush Painting is: ChineseBrushPainting@yahoogroups.com.]
“You may be a diamond,” says Master Esaka. “But you must polish your abilities all your life. Every day brings new studies and much to discover.”
I am taking notes from a Master Japanese swordsman.
Once in a while, I delve into art forms that are new to me. I happen to have a passion for Chinese painting. Today, I am attending the Japanese Samurai Exhibition on loan at the Chong-Moon Lee Center for Asian Art and Culture. Three times the exhibit has called to me. Over one-hundred and twenty pieces of fragile pottery, suits of armor, statues, and paintings are on display.
In the past, I have viewed the armor of our European feudal soldiers in the Museum of Torture in Rothenberg, Germany, but I have never seen examples Japanese armor. I imagine that our Western armor was so heavy that when a sweaty soldier fell off his horse the poor fellow must have hit the ground like an army tank. How will the feudal armor of Japan be different? What innovations will the master craftsmen of Japan have designed?
Now I see the Japanese armor is made with thin plates strung with knotted silk chord and gold and silver helmets. There is no metal except on the horns of the head-gear that pierce the sky. Their armor appears light, airy, and supple. The body suit has scales like a snake so air can get through. Was the original tortoise shell? I like the fu dog on the forehead. It looks like Chinese dogs. The sign says this suit is a copy.
2.
Normally, I do not want to think about war at an art gallery. I know the Samurai had to protect their families. ( In an odd coincidence, my father has just published an essay on the bombing of Hiroshima. He recalls Japanese Kamikaze warriors who sank our ships, the battle of Iwo Jima, atrocities like the Rape of Nanjing in 1937, and Pearl Harbor, because he was one of the last officers to say farewell to the Navy men who went to the Pacific theater in Alameda, California. His wound still aches. ) Now, as I visit the Samurai Exhibition 64 years later, I hope this art show can help heal hearts of our West coast community and Japan.
3.
I humbly enter the next darkened rooms of the museum.
Here is an entire wall lined with antique Japanese swords. Each one has its own patina: this one was buffed in the artist’s style called “tad pole design.” The lethal swords makes me quiver.
I wonder: Maybe Japanese swordsmanship has some meeting ground with my passion for Chinese brush painting? Now I learn that Samurai masters were also botanists, brush artists, and calligraphers. I am thrilled to view the Samurai paintings. I had no idea Samurai were artists. I am rethinking my old stereotype of Samurai. These folded books of botanical studies reveal scientific observation of peony and iris. These “gong-bi” (fine line) paintings, as Chinese refer to the style, exquisitely portray the veins of each petal and leaf.
My friend admires their embroidered silk on the padded Samurai jackets dating back a thousand years.
We study large characters on a gigantic scroll: two words painted with flying-white ink lines that appear the width of my wrist. The focused energy of the artist is powerful.
I ask a Japanese American museum docent to translate the painting for me, as we reenter the gallery.
“I can’t read some of the words, even though I have studied Chinese,” I say. “ I know Japan borrowed many Chinese words.”
“Some of the words you will see here are not Chinese characters, that’s why you cannot read them. Some are the names of the Japanese Samurai families. Japanese changed some of the Chinese words,” she says. “ The two large characters mean, ‘Magnaminity.’”
“I love your exhibition. I’ve been here three times,” I say.
“Good! I’m one of the persons responsible for bringing it here,” says Emily Sato with a bow.
My friend and study the horses on painted one gold screens: “ Each face of men and horses shows a different personality,” I say. “Here is the genius of Japanese Samurai artists. That’s one reason Japanese art had an impact on those Western artists who viewed it.”
4.
Now we enter the room which displays the paintings of Zen monks. One scroll shows a monk who has a neutral expression compared to the second one who is cross-eyed and frowning. The second looks like insane. His frown is framed by wispy hairs. The artist’s calligraphy next to the insane man’s face, according to the museum sign, says this is the “moment of enlightenment”.
Not surprisingly, the brush work on these two monks is way beyond my ability to paint. After forty years of using Chinese brushes, I still cannot master so many techniques. I’ll try to paint my memories of this monk when I get home, but I know that controlling the ink will be way too difficult. Besides I don’t have a brush that is thin enough for the beard.
5.
Now another friend and I watch a sword demonstration by Master Swordsman , Seigen Esaka, Hanshi 10th Dan. Master Esaka tells us that after WWII, this martial art form was banned by American occupiers in Japan from 1945 to 1952. When the ban was lifted, Sensei (teacher) Esaka opened his own dojo (school). He was born in 1925 and was “too young to fight in WWII”. Master Esaka trains swordsmen practitioners on three continents which requires mastery of “mind focus and total concentration”. He represents the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japans’ Self Defense Forces, and he holds a 10th dan( level) . We are in the museum hall listening to a presentation and demonstration by Esaka and his helpers:
Esaka-sensei (teacher) says: “Focus” or “Readiness” is essential.
“So true of Chinese brush painting , as well!” I whisper.
Esaka-san tells us about his journey using the sword he with reverence. Esaka continues, “Soft steel and hard steel were eventually melded together. This technology made the swords able to bend compared with our first swords that were straight. Later our craftsmen developed curved swords. The shields held the family crest,” says Esaka. I loved the way the shields were displayed in the transparent gallery, which we viewed from both sides. One was shaped like a phoenix rising with wings outspread. Delicate plum blossoms were cut out of the metal. Technical artistry was dazzling considering they were made of metal hundreds of years ago.
We in the audience sit in silence, hardly breathing, as two Anglo men students, a second Japanese swordsman, and a young Japanese woman demonstrate the ritualized movements for painstakingly removing the swords out of the scabbards, replacing them like skates gliding on fresh ice, and capping the ends with their hands.
Master Esaka contradicts the “image versus the reality of Samurai” in Western children’s games. “We value above all: compassion, justice, loyalty, humility, and integrity….” says Esaka in a measured voice.
“You may be a diamond,” says Master Esaka. “But you must polish your abilities all your life. Every day brings new studies and much to discover….Soften your enemy so you can win his heart. The greatest value is to make peace with others and not draw your sword.” I am writing notes as fast as I can.
“These are the things I have learned so far at age 84 from practicing the sword.”
I am hoping some of his lessons may apply to Chinese brush painting. Master Esaka slowly to reads to us from a folded paper that he removes from his wrapped jacket. His translator, who has two strands of hair over her porcelain forehead, looks exactly like a famous painting I have seen.
Esaka’s life lessons are:
“1. Live and let live.
2. It is important to try to get along with others.
3. Enemies lie within.
4. Suspicion, jealousy, fear, laziness, cowardness, envy…these are things one must fight within your own heart. Blame your own immaturity.
5. Wherever you are, that is your “dojo” (school).
6. No matter when or no matter where, every place is a place to train yourself.
7. Practice garden awareness or lingering heart.
8. Until your enemy is converted, do not let down your vigilance. Check and recheck to see if things are right.
9. Be ready for the art of unexpected circumstances.”
When get home, I think I will take a walk in my garden. Then come inside and paint a monk.
“You may be a diamond,” says Master Esaka. “But you must polish your abilities all your life. Every day brings new studies and much to discover.”
I am taking notes from a Master Japanese swordsman.
Once in a while, I delve into art forms that are new to me. I happen to have a passion for Chinese painting. Today, I am attending the Japanese Samurai Exhibition on loan at the Chong-Moon Lee Center for Asian Art and Culture. Three times the exhibit has called to me. Over one-hundred and twenty pieces of fragile pottery, suits of armor, statues, and paintings are on display.
In the past, I have viewed the armor of our European feudal soldiers in the Museum of Torture in Rothenberg, Germany, but I have never seen examples Japanese armor. I imagine that our Western armor was so heavy that when a sweaty soldier fell off his horse the poor fellow must have hit the ground like an army tank. How will the feudal armor of Japan be different? What innovations will the master craftsmen of Japan have designed?
Now I see the Japanese armor is made with thin plates strung with knotted silk chord and gold and silver helmets. There is no metal except on the horns of the head-gear that pierce the sky. Their armor appears light, airy, and supple. The body suit has scales like a snake so air can get through. Was the original tortoise shell? I like the fu dog on the forehead. It looks like Chinese dogs. The sign says this suit is a copy.
2.
Normally, I do not want to think about war at an art gallery. I know the Samurai had to protect their families. ( In an odd coincidence, my father has just published an essay on the bombing of Hiroshima. He recalls Japanese Kamikaze warriors who sank our ships, the battle of Iwo Jima, atrocities like the Rape of Nanjing in 1937, and Pearl Harbor, because he was one of the last officers to say farewell to the Navy men who went to the Pacific theater in Alameda, California. His wound still aches. ) Now, as I visit the Samurai Exhibition 64 years later, I hope this art show can help heal hearts of our West coast community and Japan.
3.
I humbly enter the next darkened rooms of the museum.
Here is an entire wall lined with antique Japanese swords. Each one has its own patina: this one was buffed in the artist’s style called “tad pole design.” The lethal swords makes me quiver.
I wonder: Maybe Japanese swordsmanship has some meeting ground with my passion for Chinese brush painting? Now I learn that Samurai masters were also botanists, brush artists, and calligraphers. I am thrilled to view the Samurai paintings. I had no idea Samurai were artists. I am rethinking my old stereotype of Samurai. These folded books of botanical studies reveal scientific observation of peony and iris. These “gong-bi” (fine line) paintings, as Chinese refer to the style, exquisitely portray the veins of each petal and leaf.
My friend admires their embroidered silk on the padded Samurai jackets dating back a thousand years.
We study large characters on a gigantic scroll: two words painted with flying-white ink lines that appear the width of my wrist. The focused energy of the artist is powerful.
I ask a Japanese American museum docent to translate the painting for me, as we reenter the gallery.
“I can’t read some of the words, even though I have studied Chinese,” I say. “ I know Japan borrowed many Chinese words.”
“Some of the words you will see here are not Chinese characters, that’s why you cannot read them. Some are the names of the Japanese Samurai families. Japanese changed some of the Chinese words,” she says. “ The two large characters mean, ‘Magnaminity.’”
“I love your exhibition. I’ve been here three times,” I say.
“Good! I’m one of the persons responsible for bringing it here,” says Emily Sato with a bow.
My friend and study the horses on painted one gold screens: “ Each face of men and horses shows a different personality,” I say. “Here is the genius of Japanese Samurai artists. That’s one reason Japanese art had an impact on those Western artists who viewed it.”
4.
Now we enter the room which displays the paintings of Zen monks. One scroll shows a monk who has a neutral expression compared to the second one who is cross-eyed and frowning. The second looks like insane. His frown is framed by wispy hairs. The artist’s calligraphy next to the insane man’s face, according to the museum sign, says this is the “moment of enlightenment”.
Not surprisingly, the brush work on these two monks is way beyond my ability to paint. After forty years of using Chinese brushes, I still cannot master so many techniques. I’ll try to paint my memories of this monk when I get home, but I know that controlling the ink will be way too difficult. Besides I don’t have a brush that is thin enough for the beard.
5.
Now another friend and I watch a sword demonstration by Master Swordsman , Seigen Esaka, Hanshi 10th Dan. Master Esaka tells us that after WWII, this martial art form was banned by American occupiers in Japan from 1945 to 1952. When the ban was lifted, Sensei (teacher) Esaka opened his own dojo (school). He was born in 1925 and was “too young to fight in WWII”. Master Esaka trains swordsmen practitioners on three continents which requires mastery of “mind focus and total concentration”. He represents the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japans’ Self Defense Forces, and he holds a 10th dan( level) . We are in the museum hall listening to a presentation and demonstration by Esaka and his helpers:
Esaka-sensei (teacher) says: “Focus” or “Readiness” is essential.
“So true of Chinese brush painting , as well!” I whisper.
Esaka-san tells us about his journey using the sword he with reverence. Esaka continues, “Soft steel and hard steel were eventually melded together. This technology made the swords able to bend compared with our first swords that were straight. Later our craftsmen developed curved swords. The shields held the family crest,” says Esaka. I loved the way the shields were displayed in the transparent gallery, which we viewed from both sides. One was shaped like a phoenix rising with wings outspread. Delicate plum blossoms were cut out of the metal. Technical artistry was dazzling considering they were made of metal hundreds of years ago.
We in the audience sit in silence, hardly breathing, as two Anglo men students, a second Japanese swordsman, and a young Japanese woman demonstrate the ritualized movements for painstakingly removing the swords out of the scabbards, replacing them like skates gliding on fresh ice, and capping the ends with their hands.
Master Esaka contradicts the “image versus the reality of Samurai” in Western children’s games. “We value above all: compassion, justice, loyalty, humility, and integrity….” says Esaka in a measured voice.
“You may be a diamond,” says Master Esaka. “But you must polish your abilities all your life. Every day brings new studies and much to discover….Soften your enemy so you can win his heart. The greatest value is to make peace with others and not draw your sword.” I am writing notes as fast as I can.
“These are the things I have learned so far at age 84 from practicing the sword.”
I am hoping some of his lessons may apply to Chinese brush painting. Master Esaka slowly to reads to us from a folded paper that he removes from his wrapped jacket. His translator, who has two strands of hair over her porcelain forehead, looks exactly like a famous painting I have seen.
Esaka’s life lessons are:
“1. Live and let live.
2. It is important to try to get along with others.
3. Enemies lie within.
4. Suspicion, jealousy, fear, laziness, cowardness, envy…these are things one must fight within your own heart. Blame your own immaturity.
5. Wherever you are, that is your “dojo” (school).
6. No matter when or no matter where, every place is a place to train yourself.
7. Practice garden awareness or lingering heart.
8. Until your enemy is converted, do not let down your vigilance. Check and recheck to see if things are right.
9. Be ready for the art of unexpected circumstances.”
When get home, I think I will take a walk in my garden. Then come inside and paint a monk.