Images of familial intimacy in Eastern and Western art 9789004248205, 4320147049, 900424820X

Table of contents :
Images of Familial Intimacyin Eastern and Western Art......Page 4
Copyright......Page 5
Contents......Page 6
Preface......Page 8
List of Contributors......Page 10
List of Figures......Page 11
1. An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family, Mother and Child, and the Home......Page 24
2. Faith, Family and Politics in Lucas Cranach the Elder’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece......Page 77
3. Domestic Bliss? Images of the Family and Home in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Genre Art......Page 106
4. Changing Images of Childhood: The Children’s Portrait in Netherlandish Art and Its Influence......Page 131
5. Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e: Scene Selection in the First Half of the Seventeenth Century......Page 155
6. Karako Asobi: Images of Chinese Children at Play......Page 208
7. The Development of the Doll Festival as Seen in Paintings: Focusing on Edo Period Family Actions......Page 241
8. Images of Children in Modern Art in Taiwan: Public Messages Concealed in Private Depictions......Page 272
9. Images of the Family in 1950s Korea: The Family as a Metaphor for Repose......Page 310
Bibliography......Page 336
Photo Credits and Sources......Page 368
Index......Page 370

Citation preview

Images of Familial Intimacy in Eastern and Western Art

The Intimate and the Public in Asian and Global Perspectives Managing Editor Ochiai Emiko Editorial Board Fran Bennett (University of Oxford) Chang Kyung-sup (Seoul National University) Barbara Hobson (University of Stockholm) Ito Kimio (Kyoto University) Ito Peng (University of Toronto) Tseng Yen-Fen (National Taiwan University) Patricia Uberoi (Institute of Chinese Studies, Delhi)

VOLUME 4

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/ipap

Images of Familial Intimacy in Eastern and Western Art Edited by

Nakamura Toshiharu

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Jan de Bray, Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and His Wife Margarieta van Bancken, 1663, Collection Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. F.E. Blaauw Bequest, ’s-Graveland. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Images of familial intimacy in Eastern and Western art / edited by Nakamura Toshiharu.   pages cm. -- (The intimate and the public in Asian and global perspectives, ISSN 2213-0608 ; VOLUME 4)  Includes bibliographical references and index.  ISBN 978-90-04-24820-5 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Families in art. 2. Intimacy (Psychology) in art. 3. Art and society--Europe. 4. Art and society--East Asia. I. Nakamura, Toshiharu, editor of compilation. II. Hirakawa, Kayo, author. Faith, family and politics in Lucas Cranach the Elder's Holy kinship altarpiece.   N8217.F27I43 2014   704.9’4930687--dc23                           2013048942

This publication has been typeset in the multilingual “Brill” typeface. With over 5,100 characters covering Latin, IPA, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the humanities. For more information, please see www.brill.com/brill-typeface. issn ����-0�0� isbn ��� �� �� ����� � (hardback) isbn ��� �� 0� �6194 � (e-book) First published 2012 in Japanese [Henyosuru Shinmitsuken/Kokyoken 変容する親密圏／公共圏, Vol. 3, Kaiga to Shiteki-sekai no Hyosho 絵画と私的世界の表象] by Kyoto University Press, Yoshida South Campus, Kyoto University, 69 Konoe-cho Yoshida, Sakyo, Kyoto 606-8315, Japan. Copyright 2014 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Global Oriental and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Contents Preface vii List of Contributors ix List of Figures x 1. An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family, Mother and Child, and the Home 1 Nakamura Toshiharu 2. Faith, Family and Politics in Lucas Cranach the Elder’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece 54 Hirakawa Kayo 3. Domestic Bliss? Images of the Family and Home in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Genre Art 83 John Loughman 4. Changing Images of Childhood: The Children’s Portrait in Netherlandish Art and Its Influence 108 Mirjam Neumeister 5. Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e: Scene Selection in the First Half of the Seventeenth Century 132 Yasuda Atsuo 6. Karako Asobi: Images of Chinese Children at Play 185 Tajima Tatsuya 7. The Development of the Doll Festival as Seen in Paintings: Focusing on Edo Period Family Actions 218 Miyazaki Momo 8. Images of Children in Modern Art in Taiwan: Public Messages Concealed in Private Depictions 249 Li Su-chu 9. Images of the Family in 1950s Korea: The Family as a Metaphor for Repose 287 Kim Yisoon

vi Bibliography 313 Photo Credits and Sources 345 Index 347

c ontents

Preface In the history of Japanese art, Kusumi Morikage’s work, Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis is renowned for its depiction of the apparent peaceful happiness of a family in the early Edo period. A man, a woman and a child enjoy the evening cool under a trellis and gaze at the full moon, not speaking to one another. Observers who stand in front of this painting, naturally recognize it as an image of a rural family, poor yet contented. Recent studies, however, call this reading into question and propose to interpret the image as a representation of eremitic recluse ideas embedded in Chinese tradition. In fact, seventeenth-century Japanese art has no other example of this rural village scene showing figures thought to be a family composed of husband, wife and child. Historical studies have clarified that in seventeenth-century Japan, the basic family structure was still a complex extended family composed of large numbers, and that the concept of a nuclear family made up of husband, wife and their children was not yet the usual family structure for farming families. This historical fact must be taken into consideration in interpreting Morikage’s work. Current observers, however, see a reflection of the present-day image of a happy family in this painting, because the three figures depicted correspond with the contemporary image of a family group. Historical studies have demonstrated that the view of the family is not a universal given but a concept that changes over time. In spite of this premise, observers tend to soften their historical stance when examining artworks depicting children or families. In the case of artworks on religious or mythological subjects, people consider it essential to grasp appropriately the dogma or narrative content and the historical context for the proper interpretation of such works. Meanwhile, when looking at paintings that depict children and families, people tend to relate their personal experiences as a child, of growing up in a family, and thus think that they can easily understand this type of paining. Caution must thus be taken to ensure that existing contemporary views on children and the family do not influence the interpretation of past artworks. In the analysis of artworks that depict children, families, or husband and wife, the value systems of the periods and regions in which the works were created must be fully considered, although they might look easy to understand at first glance. This book is a product of joint research by nine scholars who share such an awareness of issues related to the historical interpretation of visual images. The nine essays examine diverse types of artworks created in the West and in Asia from the pre-modern era to the present day. They consider the perspectives on family, home and children, of each period and region, specifically reflected in artworks. Recently, the publication of books related to children, families and the home within the discipline of art history has seen a slight boom. This book is, however, unique in offering a comparative art historical

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approach through the examination of artworks from various periods and regions, although the subject matter discussed in it is still limited. I hope that this collection of essays will stimulate further development in the study of this important theme. I am grateful to Brill, and especially to Paul Norbury and Nozomi Goto, for their interest and help in seeing this book through publication. My profound gratitude goes to Emiko Ochiai, who encouraged me to edit this book as the fourth volume of The Intimate and the Public in Asian and Global Perspectives series. Nakamura Toshiharu

List of Contributors NAKAMURA Toshiharu, Professor, Graduate School of Letters, Kyoto Univeristy HIRAKAWA Kayo, Associate Professor, Graduate School of Letters, Kyoto University John LOUGHMAN, Senior Lecturer, School of Art History and Cultural Policy, University College Dublin Mirjam NEUMEISTER, Curator of Flemish Baroque Painting, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich YASUDA Atsuo, Associate Professor, Faculty of Education, Aichi University of Education TAJIMA Tatsuya, Associate Professor, Faculty of Fine Arts, Kyoto City University of Arts MIYAZAKI Momo, Curator, The Museum Yamato Bunkakan LI Su-chu, Associate Professor, Department of Visual Communication Design, Ming Chi University of Technology KIM Yisoon, Associate Professor, Graduate School of Fine Arts, Hongik University

List of Figures

Nakamura Toshiharu

1.1 Kitagawa Utamaro, Hour of the Rat (12 pm), The Mistress (Ne no koku, mekake 「子の刻　妾」) from the series Customs of Beauties Around the Clock (Fūzoku bijin tokei 「風俗美人時計」), ca. 1798–1799 (Kansei 10–11), The British Museum, London 8 1.2 Kitagawa Utamaro, Water-Basin Mirror (Mizu kagami 「水鏡」) from the series Eight Views of Courtesans with Mirrors (Yūkun kagami hakkei 「遊君鏡八契」), ca. 1798–1799 (Kansei 10–11), Musée National des Arts Asiatiques-Guimet, Paris 9 1.3 Kusumi Morikage, Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis, Edo period, 17th century, Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo 10 1.4 Yamaguchi Soken, Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis, Edo period, 18th century, Kōzu Kobunka Museum, Kyoto 17 1.5 Anonym, Portrait of Watanabe Jōkei and His Wife Myōkei, ca. 1565–1570 (Eiroku 8-Genki 1), Myōrenji, Kyoto Prefecture 19 1.6 Kaihō Yūsetsu or Kaihō Yūchiku, Portrait of Kaihō Yūshō and His Wife Myōtei, Edo period, private collection 20 1.7 Detail of Fig. 1.6 20 1.8 Title page, Petrus Wittewrongel, Oeconomia Christiana ofte Christelicke Huyshoudinge (Christian Economy, or the Christian Household), Amsterdam, 1661 24 1.9 Detail of Fig. 1.8 24 1.10 Frans Hals, Portrait of Joseph Coymans, 1644, Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford 26 1.11 Frans Hals, Portrait of Dorothea Berck, 1644, Baltimore Museum of Art, Baltimore 26 1.12 Frans Hals, Portrait of Stephan Geraerdts, ca. 1650–1652, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp 27 1.13 Frans Hals, Portrait of Isabella Coymans, ca. 1650–1652, private collection 27 1.14 Jan de Bray, Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and His Wife Margarieta van Bancken, 1663, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, F.E. Blaauw, Bequest, ‘s-Graveland 29 1.15 Jan de Bray, Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and His Wife Margarieta van Bancken, 1663, Fondation Custodia, Frits Lugt Collection, Paris 29

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1.16 Frans van Mieris the Elder, Portrait of Franciscus de le Boë Sylvius and His Wife Magdalena Lucretia Schletzer, 1672, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemäldegalerie, Dresden 30 1.17 Jan Saenredam after Hendrick Goltzius, The True Marriage, from the series Three Kinds of Marriages, ca. 1595, The British Museum, London 32 1.18 Anonym, Family at Table, 1627, Rijksmuseum Het Catharijneconvent, Utrecht, on loan from the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 34 1.19 Jacob Ochtervelt, Family Portrait, ca. 1664. Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford 35 1.20 Hendrik Martensz Sorgh, Portrait of the Bierens Family, 1663, The Netherlands Institute for Cultural Heritage, Amsterdam 37 1.21 Geertruyt Roghman, Woman Spinning, with Girl, from the series Women at Domestic Chores, ca. 1649–1650, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 38 1.22 Hendrik Martensz Sorgh, The Family of Eeuwout Prins, 1661, Historisch Museum Rotterdam, Rotterdam 39 1.23 Jan Miense Molenaer, Portrait of the Painter’s Family, ca. 1635, Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, on loan from the Netherlands Institute for Cultural Heritage, Amsterdam 40 1.24 Detail of Fig. 1.23 41 1.25 Symon Hendricksz and Other Painters, The Ancestors of Gerrit Pietersz Schaep, paternal side, 17th century, Amsterdam Museum, Amsterdam, on loan from the Backer Foundation 43 1.26 Symon Hedricksz and Other Painters, The Ancestors of Gerrit Pietersz Schaep, maternal side, 17th century, Amsterdam Museum, Amsterdam, on loan from the Backer Foundation 43 1.27 Hendrick Bloemaert, Portrait of Pieter van Tuyll van Serooskerke, 1670, Slot Zuylen Castle, Oud-Zuylen 45



Hirakawa Kayo

2.1 Dieric Bouts the Elder, Madonna and Child, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 55 2.2 Martin Schongauer, Holy Family, late 1470s, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna 55 2.3 Albrecht Dürer, Madonna and Child with St. Anne (Anna Selbdritt), 1519, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 56 2.4 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, the wings closed, 1509, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main 56

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L IST OF FIGURES

2.5 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, the wings opened, 1509, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main 57 2.6 Attributed to Jan Mostaert, Tree of Jesse, ca. 1500, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 63 2.7 Master W with the Key, Holy Kinship, latter half of 15th century 64 2.8 Elder Master of the Holy Kinship, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, central panel, early 15th century, Wallraf-Richartz Museum, Cologne 64 2.9 Master of Frankfurt, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, central panel, 1505, Historisches Museum, Frankfurt am Main 67 2.10 Gerard ter Borch, Mother Combing the Hair of her Child, 1650s, Mauritshuis, The Hague 69 2.11 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, detail, 1510s, National Gallery of Art, Samuel H. Kress Collection, Washington 69 2.12 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Holy Kinship, first half of the 1510s, Paintings Gallery of the Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna 70 2.13 Detail of Fig. 2.5 71 2.14 Detail of Fig. 2.5 72 2.15 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I, 1505, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna 73 2.16 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Johann Friedrich Witten ( John Frederick the Magnanimous, Elector of Saxony), 1509, National Gallery, London 75 2.17 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Johann Friedrich Witten on a Pony, 1506 76 2.18 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian and His Family, ca. 1516, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna 77 2.19 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Family, Anne, Joachim, John the Baptist, Elizabeth and Zacariah, Hismeria and Ephraim, 1520, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna 78 2.20 Bernhard Strigel, Johannes Cuspinian and His Family, 1520, private collection 79 2.21 Jan van Scorel, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, 1519, St. Martin’s Church, Obervellach 80 2.22 Simon Bening, Maximilian I in the Costume of Knights of Golden Fleece, Royal Library of Belgium, Brussels 80



John Loughman

3.1 Johannes Vermeer, The Love Letter, ca. 1668–1669, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Aankoop met steun van de Vereniging Rembrandt 84

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3.2 Johannes Vermeer, The Milk Maid, ca. 1658, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Aankoop met steun van de Vereniging Rembrandt 84 3.3 Pieter de Hooch, A Mother’s Duty, ca. 1658–1660, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Bruikleen van de gemeente Amsterdam (legaat A. van der Hoop) 84 3.4 Pieter de Hooch, Interior with Women beside a Linen Cupboard, 1663, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Bruikleen van de gemeente Amsterdam 87 3.5 Emanuel de Witte, A Couple in an Interior, 1678, Alte Pinakothek, Munich 87 3.6 Attributed to Cornelis de Man, A Family Group at the Dinner Table, ca. 1660, oil on canvas, 57.5 × 72.1 cm, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles 88 3.7 Pieter de Hooch, A Woman Preparing Bread and Butter for a Boy, ca. 1661–1663, oil on canvas, 68.6 × 53.3 cm, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles 90 3.8 Johannes Vermeer, The Music Lesson, ca. 1662–1664, Royal Collection, London 91 3.9 Gerard ter Borch, Curiosity, ca. 1660, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 93 3.10 Jan van der Heyden, Sectional View of an Amsterdam House on Fire, 1690, engraving 94 3.11 Quiringh van Brekelenkam, Interior of a Tailor’s Shop, ca. 1655–1661, National Gallery, London 96 3.12 Nicolaes Maes, The Eavesdropper, ca. 1655–1660, Wellington Museum, London 96 3.13 Gabriel Metsu, Woman Reading a Letter with a Servant, ca. 1665–1667, National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin 97 3.14 Jacob Ochtervelt, Street Musicians in the Doorway of a House, 1665, Art Museum, St. Louis 98 3.15 Job Berckheyde, Notary in His Office, 1672, private collection 99 3.16 Peter Janssens Elinga, Interior with a Gentleman, a Woman Reading, and a Housemaid, ca. 1670, Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt am Main 100 3.17 Gabriel Metsu, The Visit to the Nursery, 1661, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 101 3.18 Photograph of room from the Town Hall of Amsterdam 102 3.19 Caspar Netscher, Musical Company, 1665, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich 103 3.20 Pieter de Hooch, Woman with Child and Servant, ca. 1660, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna 103

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3.21 Attributed to Samuel van Hoogstraten, Woman in a Gilt Leather Room, ca. 1665, Liechtenstein Collection, Vaduz 104 3.22 Pieter Codde, Portrait of a Family in an Interior, ca. 1620–1625, art market 104 3.23 Cornelia van Marle, The Tea Party, 1689, Stichting Het Vrouwenhuis, Zwolle 105 3.24 Gerard ter Borch, Woman Spinning, ca. 1652–1653, Museum Boijmans-Van Beuningen, Rotterdam 106 3.25 Gerard ter Borch, The Suitor’s Visit, ca. 1660, National Gallery of Art, Andrew W. Mellon Collection, Washington 106 3.26 American and Japanese lifestyle magazines, c. 2013 107



Mirjam Neumeister

4.1 Anthony van Dyck, Maddalena Cattaneo, 1623, National Gallery of Art, Widener Collection, Washington 109 4.2 Joshua Reynolds, Miss Crewe, ca. 1775, private collection 109 4.3 Jan Steen, The Feast of Saint Nicholas, ca. 1665–1668, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 110 4.4 Gerard ter Borch, Boy Caring for His Dog, 1655, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich 111 4.5 Emblem from Imago primi saeculi societatis Iesu, Antwerp, 1640 113 4.6 Jacob Jordaens, As the Old Sing, So Pipe the Young, ca. 1632–1646, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich 114 4.7 Johannes Verspronck, Girl in Blue, 1641, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 115 4.8 Peter Paul Rubens, Portrait of His Wife Helena Fourment and Their First-Born Son Frans, ca. 1632, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich 118 4.9 Peter Paul Rubens, Portrait of Albert and Nicolaas Rubens, ca. 1626, Sammlungen des Fürsten von und zu Liechtenstein, Vienna 120 4.10 Peter Paul Rubens, Albert Rubens, Szépmüvészeti Múzeum, Budapest 122 4.11 Peter Paul Rubens, Madonna in a Garland of Flowers, ca. 1616–1618, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich 122 4.12 Daniel Chodowiecki, Fürtreffliche Bildung des Geistes und des Herzens oder “Der Stubenhocker” (Excellent Education of the Mind and Heart, or “The Stay-at-Home”), from the engraving series “12 Blätter zum Leben eines Lüderlichen” (Twelve Prints on the Life of a Sloven), 1774 128

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4.13 William Beechey, The Oddie Children, 1789, North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh 129 4.14 Thomas Lawrence, The Sons of the First Earl of Talbot, ca. 1793, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Neue Pinakothek, Munich 130



Yasuda Atsuo

5.1 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Sixth Episode “Akutagawa,” from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), The Museum Yamato Bunkakan, Nara (formerly the Masuda Collection) 135 5.2 Anonym, Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon (Sagabon Ise monogatari 嵯峨本『伊勢物語』), 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 140 5.3 Anonym, Sixth Episode, from Alternative Version of the Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll (Ihon Ise monogatari emaki 「異本伊勢物語 絵巻」), 1838 (Tenpō 9), copy based on original dating back to the Kamakura period, Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo 141 5.4 Anonym, Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll (Ise monogatari emaki 「伊勢物語絵巻」), Ono Collection version (Ono ke bon 小野家本), late 16th century, private collection 142 5.5 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Fourth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), MOA Museum of Art, Atami 144 5.6 Anonym, Twenty-Ninth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 144 5.7 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Fifth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), private collection 145 5.8 Anonym, Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon (Sagabon Ise monogatari 嵯峨本『伊勢物語』), 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 145 5.9 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), TOREK Collection, place unknown 146

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5.10 Anonym, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon (Sagabon Ise monogatari 嵯峨本『伊勢物語』), 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 146 5.11 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Third Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), New-discovered version, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), private collection 147 5.12 Anonym, Third Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon (Sagabon Ise monogatari 嵯峨本『伊勢物語』), 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 148 5.13 Anonym, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll (Ise monogatari emaki 「伊勢物語絵巻」), Ono Collection version (Ono ke bon 小野家本), late 16th century, private collection 150 5.14 Anonym, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise Picture Book (Ise monogatari ehon 「伊勢物語絵本」), Nakao Collection version (Nakao ke bon 中尾家本), late 16th century, private collection 150 5.15 Anonym, Seventy-Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll (Ise monogatari emaki 「伊勢物語絵巻」), Ono Collection version (Ono ke bon 小野家本), late 16th century, private collection 151 5.16 Anonym, Seventy-Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise Picture Book (Ise monogatari ehon 「伊勢物語絵本」), Nakao Collection version (Nakao ke bon 中尾家本), late 16th century, private collection 151 5.17 Anonym, Fifty-Third Episode, from Illustrated Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zue 「伊勢物語図絵」), British Library version, late 16th century, The British Library, London 152 5.18 Anonym, Fifty-Third Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll (Ise monogatari emaki 「伊勢物語絵巻」), Ono Collection version (Ono ke bon 小野家本), late 16th century, private collection 152 5.19 Anonym, Hundredth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll (Ise monogatari emaki 「伊勢物語絵巻」), Ono Collection version (Ono ke bon 小野家本), late 16th century, private collection 153 5.20 Anonym, Hundredth Episode, from Tales of Ise Picture Book (Ise monogatari ehon 「伊勢物語絵本」), Nakao Collection version (Nakao ke bon 中尾家本), late 16th century, private collection 154 5.21 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Twelfth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), Idemitsu Museum of Arts, Tokyo 163 5.22 Anonym, Twelfth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon (Sagabon Ise monogatari 嵯峨本『伊勢物語』), 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 163

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5.23 Anonym, Twenty-Second Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon (Sagabon Ise monogatari 嵯峨本『伊勢物語』), 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo 164 5.24 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Fiftieth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), private collection 167 5.25 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Twenty-Seventh Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari zu shikisi 「伊勢物語図色紙」), second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), Suntory Museum of Art, Tokyo 167 5.26 Tosa school, Girl, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari zu shikishi 「源氏物語図色紙」), late 17th century, Sakai City Museum, Sakai 169



Tajima Tatsuya

6.1 Kitagawa Utamaro, Lover of Loud Noises from the series, Eight Views of Popular Things (Tōsei kōbutsu hakkei, sawagi zuki 「当世好物八景　さわぎ好」), Kyōwa era (1801–1804), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo 187 6.2 Suzuki Harunobu, Mother and Child in Summer Clothes (Natsu sugata haha to ko 「夏姿　母と子」), ca. Meiwa era (1764–1772), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo 188 6.3 Kanō Tan’yū, right screen from a pair of Chinese Children at Play Screens (Karako asobi zu byōbu 「唐子遊図屏風」) , early Edo period (17th century), Sannomaru Shōzōkan, Museum of the Imperial Collections, Tokyo 189 6.4  Hotei and Chinese Children (Hotei karako zu 「布袋唐子図」), first half of the 14th century, private collection 196 6.5 Detail of Fig. 6.4 196 6.6 Kanō Chikanobu, detail from Chinese Children Enacting the Four Gentlemanly Arts screens (Karako kinkishoga zu byōbu 「唐子琴棋書画図屏風」), mid-Edo period (18th century), private collection 199 6.7 Kaya Tomotaka, detail of Chinese Children at Play (Karako asobi zu 「 唐子遊図」), Ansei era (1854–1859), San-no-ma (third room), Wakamiya Goten (crown prince’s quarters), Imperial Palace, Kyoto 205 6.8 Kanō Sansetsu, Chinese Children Enacting the Four Gentlemanly Arts (Karako kinkishoga zu 「唐子琴棋書画図」), mid-Edo period (17th

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list of figures

century), Ichi-no-ma (first room) of the Kami-no-ma (upper rooms), Tenkyūin, Myōshinji, Kyoto 212 6.9 Jōdan-no-ma (upper room), Shoin (Study), Reikanji, Kyoto 213 6.10 Floor Plan and List of Painting Subjects on the Wall and Panel Paintings in the Shoin, Reikanji, Kyoto, source: Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2009, pp. 172 214 6.11 Detail of Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play (Kanjo karako asobi zu 「官女唐子遊図」), mid-Edo period, 18th century, Shoin, Reikanji, Kyoto 214



Miyazaki Momo

7.1 Sumiyoshi school, Illustrated Handscroll of the Annual Rituals (Nenjū gyōji emaki 「年中行事絵巻」), vol. 3, early Edo period (17th century), copy after a late Heian period original (12th century), private collection 221 7.2 Sumiyoshi school, Illustrated Handscroll of the Annual Rituals (Nenjū gyōji emaki 「年中行事絵巻」), vol. 3, early Edo period (17th century), copy after a late Heian period original (12th century), private collection 222 7.3 Attributed to Tosa Mitsuyoshi, Genre Scenes of the Twelve Months (Jūnikagetsu fūzoku zu 「十二ヶ月風俗図」), cockfight, Momoyama period (16th century), Yamaguchi Hōshun Memorial Museum, ICP, Miura 223 7.4 Kaibara Yoshifuru, Nihon saijiki (『日本歳時記』 Seasonal Records of Japan), 1688 (Jōkyō 5) 228 7.5 Nishikawa Sukenobu, Ehon Yamato waranbe (『絵本大和童』 Printed Picture Book: Japanese Children), reproduction edition, original edition in 1731 (Kyōhō 16), private collection 230 7.6 Watarai Naokata (text), Nishikawa Sukenobu (illustrations), Jokun eiri hina asobi no ki (『女訓絵入雛遊之記』 Illustrated Instruction for Women: About the Hina Doll Play), 1749 (Kan’en 2), Kyoto Prefectural Archives, Kyoto 230 7.7 Torii Kiyonaga, Doll Festival from the series, Twelve Months of Playful Children (Gidō jūnikō hinamatsuri 「戯童十二候　雛祭」), ca. Tenmei era (1781–1789), Museum of Fine Arts, Boston 232 7.8 Torii Kiyonaga, Doll Festival from the series, Precious Children’s Games of the Five Festivals (Kodakara gosechi asobi hinamatsuri 「子宝五節遊　雛祭」), ca. Kansei era (1789–1801), Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo 233

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7.9 Utagawa Kunisada, Third Month from the series, Fashionable Ancient and Modern Twelve Months (Fūryū kokin jūnikagetsu no uchi Yayoi 「風流古今十二月ノ内　弥生」), ca. Tenpō era (1830–1844), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo 235 7.10 Utagawa Kunisada, Jikkendana from the series One Hundred Beautiful Women of Edo Famous Places (Edo meisho hyakunin bijo Jikkendana 「江戸名所百人美女　十軒店」), 1858 (Ansei 5), Hokkaido Museum of Modern Art, Sapporo 236 7.11 Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Third Month from the series Lovely Play of the Five Festivals (Miyabi asobi gosekku no uchi Yayoi 「雅遊五節句之内　弥生」), ca. 1839 (Tenpō 10), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo 239 7.12 Sakai Hōitsu, Standing Dolls (Tachibina zu 「立雛図」), late 18th–early 19th century, Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, Tokyo 242 7.13 Yano Yachō, Standing Dolls (Tachibina zu 「立雛図」), early 19th century, Kyoto Prefectural Archives, Kyoto 243 7.14 Santō Kyōden, Kottōshū (『骨董集』 Collection of Antiques), 1813 (Bunka 10) 245 7.15 Detail of Fig. 7.12 246



Li Su-chu

8.1 Tamaki Suekazu, Happy Family (Danran 「団欒」), 1927 (6th Kokugakai Exhibition), present whereabouts unknown 253 8.2 Yamada Shinkichi, Family of Y (Y no kazoku「Yの家族」), 1928 (2nd Taiten, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown 254 8.3 Ichiki Shiori, Goldfish (Kingyo 「金魚」), 1934 (8th Taiten, Eastern-style painting section) , present whereabouts unknown 256 8.4 “Patriotic Castor Beans,” Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō, May 22, 1943, p. 2 258 8.5 Lin Rung-jie, Child with Castor Beans (Hima to kodomo 「蓖麻と子供」), 1938 (1st Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown 258 8.6 Iida Jitsuo, Gathering Oil Seeds (Yuka saishu 「油果採取」), 1943 (6th Futen, Western-style painting section, Special Selection), present whereabouts unknown 259 8.7 Washizaki Suzue, Village Children (Sondō 「村童」), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown 259

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8.8 Satozawa Han (Li Tse-fan), Hay (Bokusō 「牧草」), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown 260 8.9 Inda Shigeru, Airplane: Banzai! (Hikōki banzai 「飛行機バンザイ」), 1938 (1st Futen, Western-style painting section, Special Selection, Governor General’s Prize), present whereabouts unknown 262 8.10 Takamori Ungen (Tsai Yun-Yan), My Day (Boku no hi 「ボクノヒ」), 1943 (6th Futen, Eastern-style painting section), National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, Taipei 263 8.11 Lin Bo-shou, Lotus (Suiren 「睡蓮」), 1942 (5th Futen, Eastern-style painting section, Special Selection), present whereabouts unknown 264 8.12 Tateishi Tesshin, Sun in Lotus Pond (Hasuike nichirin 「蓮池日輪」), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, Taipei 265 8.13 Li Mei-shu, Boy Teasing Turkeys (Shichimenchō to tawamureru kodomo 「七面鳥と戯れる子供」「玩弄火雞的小孩」), oil on canvas, 227 × 182 cm, 1937, Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery, Taipei 266 8.14 Study A for Fig. 8.13, Boy Teasing Turkeys, Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery 268 8.15 Study B for Fig. 8.13, Boy Teasing Turkeys, Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery, Taipei 268 8.16 Li Mei-shu, When Azaleas Bloom (Tsutsuji saku koro 「つゞじ咲く頃」), 1940 (6th Taiyoten, member submission), present whereabouts unknown 271 8.17 Tajima Masatomo, Boys from a Small Village (Shōson no ko 「小村の子」), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown 272 8.18 Li Shih-chiao, Children Singing (Chorus, Utau kodomotachi 「歌ふ子供達」), 1943, oil on canvas, 116.5 × 90.0 cm, Li Shih-chiao Art Museum, Taipei 273 8.19 Yamasaki Konshō, Sound of East Asia Peace (Tōyō heiwa no hibiki 「東洋平和の響」), 1939 (1st Sacred War Art Exhibition), present whereabouts unknown 274 8.20 Hashimoto Kansetsu, Air Raid Shelter (Bōkūgō 「防空壕」), 1942 (5th Bunten), silk canvas, framed, 232.5 × 110.5 cm, National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo 275 8.21 Li Shih-chiao, Children in the Garden (Niwasaki no kodomotachi 「庭先ノ子供達」), 1941 (4th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown 276 8.22 Lin Yu-chu, Friendship (Mutsubi 「睦び」), 1941 (4th Futen, Eastern-style painting section), formerly heir’s collection 277

l ist of figures 8.23  Japan, Manchuria, China, Three Young Men (Nichimanshi San Shōnen 「日満支三少年」), poster, 1939, present whereabouts unknown 278 8.24 Eguchi Keishirō, Paradise (Rakudo 「楽土」), 1939 (18th Chosun Art Exhibition, Eastern-style painting section, Special Selection), present whereabouts unknown 279 8.25 Hsueh Wan-dong, Play (Yūgi 「遊戲」), 1938 (1st Futen, Special Selection, Governor General’s Prize), silk canvas, 169.0 × 173.5 cm, National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, Taipei 281 8.26 Detail from Fig. 8.25, Play, showing the embroidered bean bag, from the restoration report of National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, author’s research on 23th April, 2009 281



Kim Yisoon

9.1 Bae Woon-sung, Family, ca. 1935, oil on canvas, 140 × 200 cm, private collection 289 9.2 Detail of Fig. 9.1 290 9.3 Im Goon-hong, Family, 1950, oil on canvas, 94 × 126 cm, private collection 291 9.4 Chang Ucchin, Village, 1951, oil on paper, 26 × 36 cm, private collection 293 9.5 Chang Ucchin, Family, 1954, oil on canvas, 32 × 31.5 cm, Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art, Seoul 294 9.6 Chang Ucchin, Village, 1957, oil on canvas, 40.5 × 27.5 cm, private collection 295 9.7 Chang Ucchin, Family, 1972, oil on canvas, 7.5 × 14.8 cm, private collection 296 9.8 Chang Ucchin, Family, 1978, oil on canvas, 17 × 13.5 cm, private collection 296 9.9 Han Mook, Mother and Child, 1954, oil on canvas, 53 × 36 cm, author’s collection 298 9.10 Han Mook, Family, 1957, oil on canvas, 99 × 71 cm, Hongik University Museum, Seoul 298 9.11 Choi Yung-rim, Family, 1961, oil on canvas, 60.5 × 39 cm, private collection 299 9.12 Lee Joong-seop, River of No Return, 1956, pencil and oil on canvas, 20.2 × 16.4 cm, private collection 300 9.13 Lee Joong-seop, Family 1, 1953–1954, oil on paper, 41.6 × 28.9 cm, private collection 300

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9.14 Lee Joong-seop, Family 3, 1950–1955, oil on paper, 36.5 × 26.5 cm, Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art, Seoul 301 9.15 Lee Joong-seop, Dancing Family 1, 1953–1954, oil and enamel on canvas, 41.3 × 28.9 cm, private collection 301 9.16 Lee Joong-seop, Dancing Family 3, 1950–1955, oil on paper, 22.7 × 30.4 cm, private collection 302 9.17 Lee Joong-seop, Family Starting on a Trip 1, 1954, oil on paper, 19.5 × 64.5 cm, private collection 302 9.18 Lee Joong-seop, Family Starting on a Trip 2, 1954, watercolor on paper (postcard), 10.5 × 25.7 cm, private collection 303 9.19 Lee Joong-seop, K’s Family, 1955, lead pencil and oil on paper, 32 × 49.5 cm, private collection 304 9.20 Lee Joong-seop, Lee Joong-seop Painting His Family, 1955, pencil and colored pencil on paper, private collection 305 9.21 Postcard Lee Joong-seop sent to his family, private collection 305 9.22 Park Soo-keun, House, 1953, oil on canvas, 80.3 × 100 cm, private collection 306 9.23 Choi Yung-rim, House in My Old Hometown, 1952, oil on paper, 28.8 × 41.2 cm, private collection 307 9.24 Park Soo-keun, Return, 1953, oil on paper, 26 × 34 cm, private collection 308 9.25 Park Soo-keun, Return, 1960, oil on hardboard, 24 × 17 cm, private collection 308 9.26 Park Soo-keun, The Way, 1964, oil on hardboard, 31 × 18 cm, private collection 309 9.27 Song Yung-soo, Family, 1954, plaster (later cast in bronze), 125 × 65 × 40 cm, his heirs’ collection 310 9.28 Min Bok-jin, Family, 1988, bronze, 50 × 52.5 × 28 cm, private collection 310 9.29 Jon Rye-jin, Family, 1988, marble, 31 × 48 × 20 cm, private collection 311

Chapter 1

An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family, Mother and Child, and the Home* Nakamura Toshiharu 1.1

Subject of Study

Recently there has been a slight boom in exhibitions related to children, families and the home. For example, from 2001 through 2002, the Denver Art Museum and the Newark Museum held a large-scale exhibition entitled Dutch Interiors in the Age of Rembrandt.1 This exhibition presented both genre scenes and portraits that conveyed a sense of the lives of the Dutch in the seventeenth century, displayed alongside actual examples of various furnishings, dishware and other household goods. The exhibition not only introduced the lives of seventeenth-century Dutch people, it also considered questions such as, what position did the family have in Dutch society at the time; what were the relationships between husband and wife, families and children; what role did art play in the home, and what was the relationship between art and the home? In other words, this epoch-making exhibition displayed art works not solely as objects of aesthetic appreciation, but presented them within their social paradigm specifically as related to and within the context of the home. Interestingly, following this exhibition, a similar experiment was tried, this time an exhibition on Italian Renaissance art, At Home in Renaissance Italy, held in 2006 at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.2 Another exhibition related to children was held in 2007 at the Städel Museum, Frankfurt, and the Dulwich Picture Gallery, London, entitled The Changing Face of Childhood: British Children’s Portraits and their Influence.3 This exhibition focused on British works from the Enlightenment and Romantic periods and their great trend towards pictures depicting children. The exhibition catalog included articles exploring the pictorial tradition of depicting children in Western art, as well as articles referring to the various debates at the time regarding children. * 1 2 3

Translation from Japanese into English: Martha J. McClintock. Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002. Exh. Cat. London 2006. Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_002

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These types of exhibitions, of course, were also held in Japan. In recent memory, in 2008, the National Art Center, Tokyo, and the National Museum of Art, Osaka, held an exhibition entitled L’enfant dans les collections du Musée du Louvre.4 As its title suggests, this exhibition presented works from the Louvre spanning antiquity to the mid-nineteenth century, focusing on Europe but also including Egypt and the Orient, in its consideration of how children were expressed in art, and what stimulated the production of art on the subject of children. The exhibition’s selection of approximately 200 works was definitely worth seeing. Similarly in 2007, at the National Art Center, Tokyo, I was one of the supervisors of an exhibition titled Milkmaid by Vermeer and Dutch Genre Painting – Masterworks from the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam.5 It goes without saying that the principal goal of this exhibition was two-fold, the display of The Milkmaid, a particularly famous work by Vermeer, and offering Japanese visitors an opportunity to see this seminal work. In fact, those were not the only aims of the exhibition. We also wanted to explore the question of what was the social position of this woman pouring milk in the picture, commonly known today as the milkmaid, and how was this painting understood and interpreted at the time of its creation. We made a selection of genre paintings from the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam depicting various types of women, whose principle subject was a female, whether a female servant, an essential part of a wealthy seventeenth-century Dutch home, a housewife, or even a tavern prostitute. Through this display we explored how women were expressed in paintings and prints, while also considering how Dutch families and households of the period were considered. It is, however, possible that this aim was not properly conveyed to visitors. Given the huge media focus on the Japanese debut of Vermeer’s masterpiece The Milkmaid, the visitors to the venues focused solely on this one painting. In the face of the feverish art aficionados who wanted to fully experience Vermeer’s superb artistry, it was as if the other paintings on display vanished. For the author, it was an opportunity to realize the difficulty in conveying an exhibition’s true conceptual basis. Prior to these exhibitions, in the autumn of 2001 the Tokyo National Museum presented an exhibition of Japanese art works entitled Wonder and Joy: Children in Japanese Art.6 Unfortunately the author did not see this exhibition, but in April of that year, it was announced that Crown Princess Masako was pregnant, and on December 1, 2001 Princess Aiko was born. Thus this exhibition 4 Exh. Cat. Tokyo and Osaka 2008. 5 Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2007. 6 Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2001.

An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family

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may have been a quickly planned exhibition, initiated upon the news of the imperial pregnancy. Regardless of the circumstances behind the exhibition, the catalog reveals that the exhibition content was particularly fully realized, including works dated from the Jōmon period through the modern era that feature images of children, alongside actual children’s garments and toys. The catalog, well supplied with color plates, is an important basic reference work for the study of images of children in Japanese art. However, the explanatory texts included in the 2001 catalog seem somewhat incongruous. For example, in his essay at the beginning of the catalog, entitled “Children in Art,” Miyajima Shin’ichi indicated the historical changes in society’s view of children, such as how the age-range considered to be children differs by period, and the traditional view that children were a different existence from people and were the object of worship. Conversely, he went on to emphasize parental love for a child in such comments as “A child’s loveliness remains unchanged in all periods and it is not something that has to be rediscovered,” and “Parental affection does not vary across ages.”7 One cannot help but get a sense in these comments that the author has assigned contemporary views, i.e., that children are innocent and adorable, to art works of the past. As a result, I must agree with the harsh criticism expressed by Mori Rie in her review of the exhibition: “Isn’t it the role of researchers in the field of ‘history’ to clarify how along with the passage of time the ways and means of things and the thinking of people change? While I think that the people related to this exhibition seem to have seen their job in this fashion, do they think that such changes do not apply to ‘children’?”8 As indicated by Mori, the scholarly disciplines of history and sociology of the family have clarified that the view of children is not a universal given but something that changes with the passage of time. Further, it goes without saying that within the discipline of art history, one branch of historical study, when studying art works depicting children, scholars must fully consider the question of what kind of existence children had in the period in which the work was created. Regardless of that premise, is it not the tendency for art historians to inadvertently soften their historical stance when considering art works depicting children or the family? Likely, the main reason for this tendency is the fact that, at first glance, this type of painting is too easily understood, in a sense, too close to home. In the case of art works on religious or 7 Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2007, pp. 10, 12. 8 Mori 2004, p. 58. Investigations to clarify changes in how children were viewed as seen in images of children in Japanese art include Kuroda 1989 and Exh. Cat. Hikone 2000. Regarding how children were expressed in Western art, see Mori 2002 and Langmuir 2006.

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mythological subjects, we’ve been trained to realize the need for an appropriate grasp of the dogma or narrative content and the historical context for that art work’s reception. When we stand in front of paintings depicting children and families, do we not remember our own personal experiences as a child, growing up in a family and thus think that we can to a certain degree easily understand the world realm depicted in such works. In fact, the 2001 Tokyo National Museum exhibition catalog looked at displayed works depicting children from the past, and at the same time sought to make visitors to the exhibition “recall their own innocent, rich hearts.”9 Indeed, there is probably the opposing view that the power to see such images as homogeneous – based on a value system that takes close affection as its core criteria, regardless of period or locale – is to some degree at work in the symbolization of child and family. We must fully keep this point in mind. Even so, that does not mean that we should lose our viewpoint of historical and regional differences and rely solely on contemporary thinking about children and the family. Indeed, images created by people, rather than representing reality, have a strong tendency to construct and present a realm that follows the creator’s paradigm for grasping a sense of objects. Therefore, in the analysis of seemingly easy to understand at first glance art works that depict children, families or husband and wife, we must fully consider the philosophical paradigm in which children, the family and husband and wife existed during the period the work was created, the special features of that paradigm, and the degree to which that paradigm has stayed constant or evolved. Further, in a consideration of this issue, it is also important to remember that some kinds of art works were not created in certain places and times. For example, unlike in the West, why was it in Japan that the tradition of creating portraits of a married couple during their lifetimes was not established until only after the pre-modern era? What can we suppose was the philosophical influence behind this? Based first and foremost on the above mentioned awareness of historical issues, this book, written by nine different writers including myself, presents concrete examples from each author’s respective period and regional specialization, of what kinds of images of family and children were produced in art, or how these images were received in the family. In other words, this book is an anthology of essays that asks the question, how are ways of thinking about family, home and children, which share elements in spite of chronological and geographic differences, specifically depicted in art works. 9 Exh. Cat. 2001 Tokyo, p. 17.

An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family

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This introduction first considers in more detail our preconception and tendency to view art works depicting children and the family as too easily familiar and easily understood. In this regard, in relation to research on Japanese art history, I examine the object descriptions in Utamaro, a book written by the French author Edmond de Goncourt.10 Then I discuss Kusumi Morikage’s work, Family Enjoying the Evening Cool, the Japanese pre-modern masterpiece still beloved by many today, depicting an ordinary family. In this context I consider the issues internalized in the discussion of this work in the field of art history. Continuing, I shift the object of my consideration from Edo period Japan to the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic. Here I take up the particularly fascinating private portraits created in that space and time and attempt an analysis of them in terms of the questions: (1) what special features did the prevailing philosophical and social paradigms of the Dutch Republic in that period contribute to these portraits of married couples or family; and (2) what kind of thinking about married couples, families and children can be read from these works? The Dutch Republic was the first country in Europe to declare itself a republic, back in the late sixteenth century. This confirmation of how married couples and families were represented in that republic during the seventeenth century – a time frame that corresponds to Japan’s early Edo period – is also fascinating from the comparative art historical perspective. The conclusion of this introduction presents a brief summary of the contents of the other eight essays included in this volume, explaining how these essays are related to the main subject under examination, and indicating issues that arise in this regard from these essays. 1.2

Goncourt and Utamaro’s Images of Mother and Child

Evident from the exhibitions introduced at the beginning of this introduction, East or West, no matter the period, there have always been numerous art works created on the subject of the family, mothers and their children and the family home. This type of work is much more readily approachable than religious works, whether Christian or Buddhist, narrative works on mythological, historical or literati themes, or even various politically allegorical works. The deep love of a mother for her children, the adorable nature of innocent children, the family home that protects us from the harsh realities of the outside world and provides us with a safe environment – all reflect important, universally held 10

Goncourt 1891 and Goncourt 2008.

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human values. As a result, we tend to think that art works on these subjects transcend period, region or sectarian boundaries and are relatively easily understood by almost everyone. In fact, this type of belief seems to have been also unconsciously expressed by the French author Edmond de Goncourt in his book on the Edo period painter Utamaro. A passionate lover of Japanese art and a major collector, Goncourt, assisted by Hayashi Tadamasa, a Japanese art dealer active in Paris, wrote the world’s first monograph on Utamaro. In this tome Goncourt wrote of the artistic fascination with Utamaro’s work, and since many of his European readers were unfamiliar with the various subjects and contents of Utamaro’s works, he explained it all to them in the simplest terms. For example, when Goncourt speaks of his own beloved copy of the monochrome version of Seirō ehon nenjū gyōji (A Picture Book of Annual Events in the Green Houses), an illustrated book by Utamaro and his studio, he introduces the text in the illustrated book by Jippensha Ikku, adds his own interpretation, and describes in detail the nature of the Yoshiwara and other pleasure quarters in Japan. Regarding the print New Year’s Day Wishes on Nakano-chō, Goncourt stated that when an auspicious occasion occurred, a pair of decorative kadomatsu branches were set up to face the entrance to the house, with the back of the decoration facing the street. Goncourt states that the reason for this practice was that “turning one’s back” was the negation of love.11 This type of explanation is extremely useful even for Japanese readers, such as the present writer, who are not familiar with Japan’s earlier cultural forms, and I greatly respect Goncourt’s efforts. In this manner, Goncourt, who considered that knowledge of Japanese culture was essential to fully enjoy the fascination of ukiyo-e arts, did not forget to explain the customs seen in Utamaro’s images of mothers and children which displayed features not seen in European art. Regarding bathing customs for example, Goncourt explained that the tarai was a type of Japanese wash basin.12 Further, his description of a child with mahogany-colored skin, “who was nursed, nourished, and brought up by a woman with a wildly disheveled mop of black hair,” accompanies his introduction of the young form of Sakata Kintoki, a retainer of Minamoto no Yorimitsu, and his many legendary accomplishments. He also touches upon Momotarō, the so-called Peach Boy, who is a main figure in Japanese children’s stories, along with Kintarō.13 For those Japanese readers of Goncourt, already deeply familiar with these narrative figures from traditional stories, Goncourt’s description is somewhat over 11 12 13

Goncourt 1891, pp. 73–74 and Goncourt 2008, p. 203. Goncourt 1891, p. 56 and Goncourt 2008, p. 42. Goncourt 1891, pp. 58–61 and Goncourt 2008, pp. 47–49.

An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family

7

worked, but clearly he thought that this information was both fascinating and necessary for the comprehension of his French readers. In this manner, Goncourt fully realized that a complete understanding of cultural codes of the locale where a picture was created is an essential element for comprehending the work. On the other hand, when he wrote of his fascination with these prints, it seems that he believed that it was perfectly natural for anyone to understand the deep connection between mother and child based on an innate knowledge of maternal love and the adorable nature of children. The following rather long quote is Goncourt’s splendid comment on Utamaro’s works depicting the mother and child theme. In European images, we find nothing comparable with Utamaro’s prints of breastfeeding. There is the tilted head of our Virgin over the divine Bambino; there is the ecstatic contemplation of the nursing mother; there is the loving embrace in her arms, the delicate wrapping of one hand around an ankle while the other caresses the back of the neck of the child clinging to her breast. He [Utamaro] paints the mother rocking the child; bathing it in a wooden vat, the bathtub of that country; a comb between her teeth, gathering up his little queue; one hand through his loose belt, supporting his first steps; amusing him with a thousand little games; having him take a marble from her mouth; frightening him with a mask of a fox, that legendary animal in the nursery rhymes of the country…. Among all these scenes, there is one of a marvelous realism: the scene in which a Japanese mother is helping her child to pee, the mother’s two hands holding the calves of the two spread legs of the child, while, in a gesture typical of infants, his two tiny hands flutter absently above his eyes. In these images of mother and child, in which the existence of the two is, so to speak, not yet completely separate and where, from the womb of the mother, the child seems to have gone directly onto her lap or onto her shoulders, one plate stands out – a mother has her child on her back, leaning forward over her shoulder, and both are looking at themselves in the water collected in the hollow of a tree trunk. Their faces appear to draw closer, to unite, almost to kiss, in the reflection of this natural mirror.14 Even though Goncourt touches on the differences between European images of mothers and their children and those by Utamaro, and he fully understands the differences in the childrearing equipment of the two cultures, he notes, 14

Goncourt 1891, pp. 56–57 and Goncourt 2008, pp. 42, 47.

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“In a gesture typical of infants, his two tiny hands flutter absently above his eyes,” concerning Ne no koku, mekake (Hour of the Rat [12 pm], The Mistress) from the series Fūzoku bijin tokei (Customs of Beauties Around the Clock) (Fig. 1.1). Further, he mentions in regard to Mizu kagami (Water-basin mirror) from the series Yūkun kagami hakkei (Eight Views of Courtesans with Mirrors) (Fig. 1.2), “These images of mother and child, in which the existence of the two is, so to speak, not yet completely separate and where, from the womb of the mother, the child seems to have gone directly on to her lap or onto her shoulders.” Aren’t those cases of Goncourt discussing the fascination of these works that transcend cultures? And indeed, a child held in his mother’s arms as he pees in the middle of the night, would in fact sleepily rub his eyes. Goncourt’s mistaken interpretation of this child’s gesture is fascinating evidence of the fact that even in deeply familiar images of mother and child, it is not always easy to interpret the depiction of gestures from different cultural spheres. In fact today, in the adorable images of the Madonna and Child exhibited in the frequent exhibitions of Western art held in Japan, the expression of the close connection between mother and child goes beyond the Christian framework and resonates in the hearts of the broader spectrum of people. This is also the case with the approachable genre scenes of the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic. Scenes of families gathered in comfortable interiors, as seen

Figure 1.1 Kitagawa Utamaro, Hour of the Rat [12 pm], The Mistress from the series Customs of Beauties Around the Clock, ca. 1798–1799 (Kansei 10–11), The British Museum, London.

An Introduction to Interpreting Images of Family

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Figure 1.2 Kitagawa Utamaro, Water-Basin Mirror from the series Eight Views of Courtesans with Mirrors, ca. 1798–1799 (Kansei 10–11), Musée National des Arts Asiatiques-Guimet, Paris.

in the title of the article by Loughman in this book, make us think of the sublime family bliss in an enclosed space. In sum, such images of mothers and their children or families are characterized by the fact that they are readily understood by anyone. Goncourt’s description indicates the differences in cultural codes, while also explaining the universality of mother-child love which surpasses such differences. However, we cannot overlook the fact that when this mother-child love and familial love is emphasized, there is the danger of not paying full attention to the meaning codes that might be included in the work. An example of such might be found in a famous work apparently depicting the peaceful happiness of a family. This is Kusumi Morikage’s work, Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis (Fig. 1.3), world-renowned in the history of Japanese art. 1.3

Regarding the Interpretation of Kusumi Morikage’s Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis

This painting depicts an evening glory trellis constructed next to a roughly built house, and a man, a woman and a child, relaxing under the trellis in the

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Figure 1.3 Kusumi Morikage, Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis, Edo period, 17th century, Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo.

evening. The time depicted is evening, and a large white full moon appears in the sky in the upper left. The man and woman relax, with the man lying on his stomach, facing out of the composition as he rests on his right elbow. The woman sits next to him, dressed only in koshimaki, a simple sarong-like underskirt. The three figures, who appear to be husband, wife and child, all gaze quietly to the left of the composition. It looks like a family of three enjoying the cool evening air in summer. When we stand in front of this work, it is completely natural for us to recognize this as an image of a rural family, poor yet contented. Even though this work was painted in the early Edo period, it surpasses both time and place to convey to us today the happiness of this humble family. It might well be a place of longing for those of us tired of the hustle and bustle of city life. In fact, this painting was displayed in the first section of the 2001 Tokyo National Museum exhibition mentioned above. The photograph of the painting in the catalog is accompanied by the short text, “Three members of a family enjoy the cool evening air, not speaking amongst themselves, gazing at the full moon from beneath an evening glory trellis. The child seated next to his father has a gentle expression, and we also strongly sense parental love toward the child.”15 Thus this painting seems to have been selected for the Tokyo National Museum exhibition as a work that somehow shows the close connection between parents and child. However, as seen in the explanatory text, there is a complete lack of a stance of interpreting the painting from a consideration of the attitude towards the family and towards children during the early Edo period when Morikage created the work. 15

Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2001, p. 24.

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First off, even though we might say that a single two-panel folding screen is a relatively simple format folding screen, there are no other known examples of early Edo period screens that depict this kind of rural village scene, peopled by figures thought to be a family made up of husband, wife and child. Thus, we might ask, why did Morikage paint such a figural group? Historical studies have clarified the fact that major changes occurred through the 17th century in Japan in rural village family structure, with some differences by region.16 Namely, at the beginning of the 17th century the basic family structure was a complex extended family made up large numbers, including not only the head of the family, his parents, wife and children in a direct linear family structure, but also the families of his brothers and further included lower ranking farm workers and servants. However, as time progressed, offshoot branches of the extended family and lower ranking farm peasants became independent, and gradually the nuclear family made up of husband, wife and their children became the usual family structure for farming families. Thus, when we consider the period in which Morikage was thought to be active, from the Kan’ei era (1624–1645) through the Genroku era (1688–1704), we notice that his activity period coincides with this period of growing change in family structure. At that point nuclear family structure was not yet the norm for rural villages, and thus it is not odd that images of small nuclear family groups were not painted. That being the case, it is necessary to consider the fact that the family construct of husband, wife, and child thought to be depicted in Morikage’s painting, would not have been the standard rural family construct to the people of the day. In fact, we know that this painting is not simply a depiction of familial affection, nor is it a portrait of an actual farm family. As indicated in Yoshizawa Chū’s 1954 article, the painting subject is probably based on the waka poem by the early Edo period poet Chōshōshi, which speaks of a man in a loincloth and a woman in a koshimaki beneath an evening glory trellis.17 The pen name Chōshōshi refers to Kinoshita Katsutoshi (1569–1649), a samurai in service to Hideyoshi who was the oldest son of Kinoshita Iesada and nephew of Hideyoshi’s wife Kita no Mandokoro. Later stripped of his fief in the political turmoil of the day, he retired to the Higashiyama district of Kyoto and there in his later years made a name for himself as a poet. This waka poem was published in the Wakasa no shōshō Katsutoshi ason shū (Anthology of Poems by Katsutoshi, the Lord of Wakasa and Imperial Vassal), with the appended 16 17

Nagano 2002; Onigashira 2010, pp. 73–78. 「夕顔のさける軒端の下すゝみ、おとこはてゝれ女はふたの物」 pp. 38–39. See also Yoshizawa 1977, p. 5.

Yoshizawa

1954,

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margin notes “It is just supreme bliss in the world. Who could, however, be in this state?,” and furthermore, “Who would like to add anything to this state?” This note explains that the relaxation of a poor commoner, as described in the poem, is in fact the greatest joy, and there are few on this earth who attain such a mental state. Or, the margin note can be interpreted as this is the attainment of paradise, and nothing more need be added.18 From this information, Yoshizawa then interpreted this waka as evoking the sentiments of those living in retirement because they have either lost their rank through changing political situation or have removed themselves from society. Yoshizawa went on to say, “Morikage, who lived during the time of the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunal and clan-based politician system, could not simply adapt to the new political system, and probably painted this work from his feelings of sympathy with the sentiments of this waka poem describing the pleasures of a couple sitting beneath the evening glory trellis.”19 In fact, Morikage was a student of Kanō Tan’yū and a superb painter who married Tan’yū’s sister and thus became a relative of the Kanō family. Unfortunately his life was not all easy.20 His daughter Setsu (Kiyohara Yukinobu), who also studied under Morikage’s teacher Tan’yū, is said to have eloped with a fellow student. Similarly his son Hikojūrō, also a Tan’yū student, was admonished for frequenting the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter and quarreled with a fellow Tan’yū student, and was exiled to Sado Island. As a result of these transgressions by his children, it is surmised that Morikage was stripped of his position as an official painter on public projects, one aspect of his role as a member of the Kanō family, who were the official painters for the shogunal government and hence part of the government bureaucracy and subject to its rules. At the time, the powerful clans of the day made it a practice to invite a painter from Tan’yū’s studio to become their clan painter, and regardless of the fact that it was highly likely that Morikage lived in Kaga clan lands, there is no record of his official appointment to a clan post in the Kaga clan records. In other words, circumstances beyond Morikage’s control pushed him from an early promising path. We can surmise therefore that Morikage found and resonated with an ideal image of a person living in retirement, enjoying nature and the changing seasons, not seeking power, glory or luxury, in this scene of ordinary people enjoying their simple life. In other words, to expand on Yoshizawa’s interpretation, the roughly-dressed man depicted in Morikage’s work, who could be either samurai or peasant, might be an expression of the lifestyle of a 18 19 20

「右天下至楽也、有誰如之」「有誰加之」 Yoshizawa 1977, p. 5. Yoshizawa 1977, p. 7. Regarding Morikage’s life and family relationships, see Matsushima 2007, pp. 28–33.

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person who has withdrawn from his original place in society and instead enjoys a simple, quiet and removed rural existence.21 In this regard, Kuno Sachiko has noted in recent years that it is not actually the summer bloom of evening glories depicted on the trellis in this painting, but rather their gourds, which appear in autumn. Kuno not only suggests the seasonal shift from a simple scene of enjoying a cool evening in summer after a hot day, she goes on to offer the extremely fascinating interpretation that in fact the motifs present hidden meanings.22 Gourds frequently appear in legends about Chinese recluses, such as Xu You and Yan Hui, tales that were well known in Japan at the time, as symbols of “honest poverty.” Through his addition of the gourd motif in the painting Morikage has in fact clarified the recluse ideal in the painting. Xu You was a recluse who found using a gourd as a drinking vessel for water so much trouble he threw it away, while Yan Hui, a favored disciple of Confucius, enjoyed a simple small town existence, drinking water from a gourd container and eating rice from a cut bamboo section. Further, a child appears in the painting but is not found in the waka poem. Kuno interprets this as the addition by Morikage to indicate that the woman is an ordinary woman, since in early pre-modern era paintings, normally the only women who appeared in koshimaki dishabille were yūjo, or low ranking prostitutes.23 She goes on to indicate that the likely recipient for Morikage’s painting was an educated person who would understand the eremitic recluse ideas that would have been learned in a Chinese style education. However, diverting completely from this interpretation, the viewing of the child in this painting as a motif based on Morikage’s thoughts about children has seemed to have gained support. Matsushima Masato has quite boldly interpreted the three figures in the work as not parents and child, but rather a father and a son and daughter, stating, “Recalling his own pleasures with his own daughter and son, possibly it is a painting incorporating his thoughts of his own children.”24 However, isn’t more careful investigation called for before we 21

22 23 24

“While Morikage expressed the ‘sublime bliss in the world’ ideal in his Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis painting on the theme of this waka poem, possibly because Morikage’s yearning for such a state of mind was in earnest, this painting imparts an all the more vivid impression than that of Chōchōshi’s waka, and when ‘enjoying the evening cool under an evening glory trellis’ is mentioned, this painting immediately springs to mind, overshadowing thoughts of the original waka.” [translated from Yoshizawa 1977, p. 8]. Kuno 2006. Kuno 2006, p. 80. Matsushima himself also thought this interpretation was fanciful. Matsushima 2007, p. 77.

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assign a creative premise to early Edo period painters that would include depicting their own personal thoughts on their family or sentiments in a painting, an attitude that is normally seen in modern painters. In fact, as noted above, Yoshizawa Chū also surmised that the motive for the painting’s creation lay in Morikage’s keen longing for the scene described in the waka poem. However, would such intensely personal sentiments be the major impetus for creating a folding screen format painting? Doesn’t this rather bring to the fore the interpreter’s bias of seeing Morikage as a modern artist. Rather, shouldn’t we understand the recluse philosophy expressed in the waka poem and thus consider that the work was commissioned and received by a literati circle who could enjoy such refined and subtle meaning. In this regard I can agree with, and applaud, Kuno’s mention of the standard use of the gourd motif in tea ceremony circles, and the need for a reconsideration of Morikage’s supposed interactions with Fujimura Yōken.25 Wouldn’t this two-panel screen, measuring 149.7 cm in height and 166.2 cm in width, have been a suitable size and shape for use in a literati’s residence? Unfortunately, I do not have the background to take the discussion regarding the literati cultural circle any further. However, there is one other compelling notion in the debate regarding the recipients of this painting. Kuno has indicated that this work incorporates recluse ideals, at the same time she suddenly makes the following comment, “The value of this painting, which evokes empathy from people today as a family portrait that transcends time, is unchanging.”26 As noted above, this probably says more about the contemporary evaluation of this painting, and naturally the way this painting is received may change with the period. Kuno therefore could mean in this sense that the contemporary view of this painting, which reads it as a happy family, satisfied in spite of their poverty, is acceptable, and that the depth of the innate universality which makes such an interpretation seem appropriate or even possible is one of the strong points of the painting. Kuno might, however, also mean that this painting was received as an image of a happy family from the time that Morikage painted it. Her text does not clarify this point. If we then ask, why is this a problem, it is because, naturally, it is okay to understand or receive an art work differently than how it was received or understood when it was created. Simply stated, each viewer is free to receive or understand an art work any way they want to. The fact that many people today are struck by this “family portrait” of Edo period commoners, means that by contemporary standards, this work is highly valued. However, if we were to 25 26

Kuno 2006, pp. 78–79. Kuno 2006, p. 81.

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assert that this painting has been understood as an image of a happy family since the time Morikage created it, doesn’t that require a deeper consideration of the early Edo period view of the family? The group of father, mother and one child seen in Morikage’s screen painting is the completely normal family structure as viewed in contemporary Japan. However, as noted above, it was not yet the ordinary family structure in rural villages during the early Edo period. In fact, we cannot find examples of nuclear family groups in Morikage’s series of paintings whose title is often translated as either Agriculture in the Four Seasons or Rice Cultivation in the Four Seasons. In other words, even in scenes depicting a group of adults and children, there are no clear visual clues to their familial relationships. It is unclear, who is the parent of which child. Historical studies suggest that in a rural village made up of extended families, children were not yet the recipients of parental love as seen in today’s nuclear family structure, but rather were ranked within, organized and acted as a group of children formed within the village group. And indeed, this is how children are depicted in art works from that period.27 Hence, I somewhat doubt that the early Edo period people saw their own image of a happy family reflected in this painting. In Japan today a nuclear family made up of a man and a woman, who have basically chosen their partner through their own free will and borne children, is the standard family structure. In that sense, the three figures in Morikage’s work certainly accord with the contemporary image of a family group. Without any consideration of recluse ideals or other ideas, we can simply see this painting as an easily understood and received image. However, mustn’t we carefully reconsider whether or not the people of the early Edo period, for whom the extended family was the norm, would have seen this painting as an image of a happy family. It is also important to consider the family views of the upper classes of society that can be imagined as the actual recipients of Morikage’s folding screen painting. The patriarchal family system, with the man as the head, was established in Japan during the late Muromachi period. In this system the wife had no assets and became her husband’s dependant. The wife entered the husband’s household upon marriage.28 As a result, when a wedding was arranged, naturally, it was a parent’s authority that was a greater influence than any affection between the involved parties. In the case of high ranking military families or wealthy merchant families, the men also had mistresses and secondary households. In this type of society, the cultured figures who would have been the viewers and 27 28

Takahashi 2003. Takamure 1963, pp. 207–213. Kurushima 2002.

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recipients of this painting would not necessarily value the perceived warm ties of a nuclear family made up of husband, wife and child. Doesn’t the fact there are no other known early Edo period art works that  depict as their main subject this type of small family group prior to this painting by Morikage reflect the reality of the family system and member  relationships of the period? Of course, in order to consider this issue, not only is a survey of the family system necessary, we must also confirm the degree to which small family groups are depicted in Muromachi period to early Edo period handscrolls and other works, and also how they are depicted and referenced to various textual sources. In other words, we must investigate records of the intimacy and affection relationships within the family unit during that period. Up until now, research on Morikage’s painting has not yet fully explored the painting in terms of the history of family interpersonal psychology. Reference materials for such a study can be found in the continuing and growing debates in the West. Researchers such as Ariés and Stone, also well known in Japan, state that prior to the 18th century in pre-modern Europe, true  affection in a modern sense of the word did not exist between husband  and wife or between parents and children, and emphasize instead that  the family was a type of restriction that fettered a person’s true self expression.29 Conversely, research from the 1980s onwards has utilized personal documentary evidence, so-called ego documents, such as personal  accounts, notebooks and diaries, to gain a detailed understanding of the  actual nature of people’s personal lives during their period, and as a result, the concept that families lacked familial intimacy has been refuted as not reflecting the actual situation at the time.30 Needless to say, this kind of shift in our view of history has had great meaning for the interpretation of family and husband and wife relationships as depicted in seventeenth-century Dutch portraits and genre paintings. This is because such new ways of thinking allow us to get a more straightforward reading of the depictions of close relationships between husband and wife and family groups frequently encountered­ 29

30

Ariés 1960; and Stone 1977. Stone, however, used ego documents to observe that as the authority of the nation increased in England with the spread of Protestantism at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries, it led to a weakening of extended family relationships and the strengthening of familial affection. As examples of ego document research in England and America, see Pollack 1983 and Pollack 1987. Further, See Ozment 1983, for research on the intimate familial relationships in the German speaking region during the Reformation period, a region and period in which full use was made of ego documents. For the situation in Holland, see Dekker 1995.

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in these paintings, to a great degree reflecting the sentiments of the people of the day.31 However, the fascinating thing is that several examples of Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis compositions thought to be based on the same waka poem exist from periods after Morikage. Those works have a greater sense of realism and pleasurable mood than those found in Morikage’s work.32 Of those later works, one includes the child, not mentioned in the waka poem, implying that the painter or commissioner of the later work might have known Morikage’s work. This later work was painted by Yamaguchi Soken, a pupil of Maruyama Ōkyo, active from the end of the eighteenth through early nineteenth centuries (Fig.  1.4). A mother hugs a child beneath an evening glory  trellis beside a river beneath the moon, while her husband lies on his stomach nearby, gazing at the mother and child. This is a clear depiction of

Figure 1.4 Yamaguchi Soken, Enjoying the Evening Cool under an Evening Glory Trellis, Edo period, 18th century, Kōzu Kobunka Museum, Kyoto. 31 32

See Smits-Veldt 2000, for a brief introduction of three ego documents from early seventeenth century Netherlands and a discussion of paintings. Matsushima 2007, pp. 76–77.

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affection between family members, and contrasts sharply with Morikage’s images of figures that do not look at each other. In this regard, the description by Murata Ryōa in his Ryōa isho, that Yoshizawa introduced, is worthy of attention. During Ryōa’s period the Evening Cool waka poem by Chōshōshi was so widely known that it was even regarded as dating from the ancient Man’yōshū period, and he searched for the source of this zare-uta poem on the cool of the evening under discussion. He found the writings of Mumeishi, with a colophon by Tōriken dated 1740 (Genbun 5), which stated that Chōshōshi had actually gone into the countryside and there seen “a farming husband and wife enjoying the cool evening under gourd plants.”33 In other words, we can surmise that around the mid-eighteenth century, viewers of the work were not aware of the connection with the recluse ideal, but rather thought that the scene in the waka represented Chōshōshi’s actual experience in the country side. It is fascinating then to note that Soken’s depiction actually strongly reflects such realistic sensibilities. The eighteenth century marked the time in Japan when the nuclear family structure was established. During that period, it was the great fashion in ukiyo-e images, including those by Suzuki Harunobu and the previously introduced Utamaro, to create works on the theme of the everyday lives of mothers and their children. In other words, can’t we say that through the course of the Edo period there was a growing importance given to mother-child centered familial affection, and that these values would also have been reflected in art works. Because they are so immediately familiar, art works depicting mother and child or family images are understandable even outside of their chronological or regional cultural code, and thus there is the tendency to consider such imagery too easily understood, as I have repeatedly mentioned above. Through the above examination we can see how it is hard to say that research on famous works such as Morikage’s Evening Cool has advanced from a vantage point fully distanced from our own preconceptions and thoughts about families, including the artist’s individual family feelings. Now let us turn our attention to the tradition of portrait paintings. As is well known, in Japan as far back as the Heian period it was the tradition for portraits to be painted of emperors and high ranking clerics, and by the Muromachi period such portraits were produced in great numbers.34 In the Zen Buddhist sect, it is the custom for disciples to have a portrait of their master created and then request that the master add his inscription to the painting. In the Jōdo Shinshū sect, portraits of high ranking priests are created at the request of 33 34

Yoshizawa 1954, p. 38 and Yoshizawa, 1977, p. 5. Inabata 2000.

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their disciples, and the subjects of the paintings would then add their own signature to the work. Temples throughout Japan would own such paintings. In terms of secular portraits, large numbers of memorial images were created for use at funerals or later memorial services. There were correspondingly few portraits made during the actual life of the subject. Thus, portraits of husband and wife pairs or family groups did not exist in Japan until the pre-modern era. Here I would like to touch on two examples of husband and wife portraits that are fascinating in this regard. First, is the portrait of husband and wife Watanabe Jōkei and Myōkei (Fig. 1.5), which was created at the very early date of ca. 1565–1570 and owned by Myōrenji in Kyoto prefecture.35 Viewers today might look at this work and see it as a portrait of a harmonious husband and wife pair, looking at each other. However, the inscription next to the husband includes the date 13th day of the 10th month of 1565 (Eiraku 8) as the term mei’nichi, or anniversary of a person’s death. Next to the wife’s image, the inscription states her name and the character gyaku in black ink. These inscriptions indicate that the portrait was created for the memorial service for the deceased husband and for the wife’s own gyakushu, or service held during her lifetime praying for her own good afterlife. The wife likely commissioned the painting, and it was created after the husband had already died. Thus this painting was not created as a commemorative picture during the life of the two subjects akin to the commemorative photographs taken today at silver or gold anniversary occasions to celebrate the couple’s long years together.

Figure 1.5 Anonym, Portrait of Watanabe Jōkei and His Wife Myōkei, ca. 1565–1570 (Eiroku 8-Genki 1), Myōrenji, Kyoto. 35

Exh. Cat. 1978, pp. 304–305; Exh. Cat. Nara 2000, p. 90.

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Figure 1.6 Kaihō Yūsetsu or Kaihō Yūchiku, Portrait of Kaihō Yūshō and His Wife Myōtei, Edo period, private collection.

Figure 1.7 Detail of Fig. 1.6.

Further, we can cite the Portrait of Kaihō Yūshō and His Wife (Figs. 1.6 and 1.7), which was painted by Kaihō Yūsetsu, son of Kaihō Yūshō, a painter active in the Momoyama to early Edo period, or Yūchiku, who was Yūsetsu’s son and Yūshō’s grandson. In this portrait Yūshō is shown leaning his elbow on an armrest while his wife, Myōtei, is shown as an old woman wearing a white headscarf. The two figures are shown gazing at a painting depicting a viewing of a waterfall scene. This painting appears to be an indication of the close connection between husband and wife during their lifetime, as depicted by a son or

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grandson.36 The striped kosode-type kimono worn by the wife Myōtei shows the Mitsuba-aoi family crest of the Tokugawa clan. Myōtei became the owner of this kimono only after Yūshō’s death, when Myōtei and Yūsetsu travelled to Edo. Thanks to the favorable efforts of Lady Kasuga (Kasuga no Tsubone, wet nurse to the third Tokugawa shogun, Iemitsu), Iemitsu gave this kimono with Tokugawa family crest to Myōtei. Further, there is something unnatural about Myōtei’s pose, sitting extremely close to the waterfall viewing painting and turning around especially to look at the work. Given this, it would seem that this painting was not originally a portrait of the husband and wife, but rather a solo portrait of Yūshō, and that later the image of the wife wearing the prized kimono with crest was added to the original composition. The reason for this addition may have been the Kaihō family’s desire to show that they had received the recognition and favor of the shogunal family. As a result of these factors, it is hard to read this painting as simply a portrait showing a husband and wife pair enjoying their close relationship. In other words, the custom for commissioning portraits that show close relationships between husband and wife pairs or family groups including children had not been established in the pre-modern era in Japan. Normally such images were not created. Then, we might ask, why the lack of impetus? In this regard we can turn to the Onna daigaku (Great Learning for Women), a primer for girls education widely distributed during the Edo period. This book strongly asserts the male chauvinist philosophy of the patriarchal primogeniture system, in which the role of the wife is to enter the husband’s household and respectfully serve her husband as her master. As a result, wouldn’t it seem that there was no room in such a way of thinking for the development of the idea to create husband and wife portraits that show the intimate relationship between the husband and wife as equal “life partners.”37 And yet, of course, there is no simple answer to this issue. It is important to investigate how this male chauvinist philosophy is reflected in the art works through a careful analysis of how men and women are depicted in pre-modern period Japanese art. Many of the images depict not a simple replication of reality, but rather present a reconstruction of the world as it is. Thus, in the reading and interpretation of art works depicting children, families or husband and wife pairs, it is important to appropriately read how views of children, families and husband and wife pairs of the period of the art work’s creation are reflected in the work. Conversely, it is also possible to surmise that the views on children and families can be read 36 37

Doi 1948; Exh. Cat. 1978, pp. 306–307; Exh. Cat. Otsu 1986, no. 22. Regarding the concepts of patriarchal primogeniture system and “honoring males, denigrating females” and Onna daigaku, see Ishikawa 1977; Oguri 2002; Hayashi 2002.

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from such works. We must intentionally use both of these processes when interpreting paintings. In this regard, the many genre scenes and portraits depicting families and husband and wife pairs created in the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic provide a fascinating insight into this subject. In the Dutch Republic, the secularization of art advanced well ahead of such developments in other European countries. This included the production of remarkable numbers of genre scenes and portraits. As a result, there is a truly rich trove of images depicting children, families and the home. It is fascinating to note that this situation is diametrically opposed to that in pre-modern Japan where the custom had not yet been established for husbands and wives to have portraits done during their own lifetime. Further, there has been a great deal of study on how the family unit and married couples were perceived in Dutch society and this has become an extremely profitable source of information for the analysis of art works. Thus, let us now consider some art work examples from the Dutch Republic. 1.4

The Relationship between Husband and Wife as Seen in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Portraits

When we consider Dutch art, we must also consider the unique nature of this country within European society at the time. The Dutch Republic was newly established following a long campaign for independence from the Spanish monarchy that had ruled the Netherlands from the beginning of the 16th century. The oppression of the strong Christian faith under Spanish rule, the disregard for the traditional autonomy of cities, and the economic hardships brought about by heavy taxation were all reasons behind the eruption of the Dutch War of Independence (the Eighty Years’ War). The end of the war brought about the formal recognition of Dutch independence by the Peace of Münster in 1648. However, the Republic had already achieved de facto independence at the time of the Twelve Years’ Truce signed in 1609. Subsequently, thanks to the growth in shipping and trade, there was unprecedented and fast economic development in this young country that had abolished its monarchic rule ahead of other European countries. The central focus was Amsterdam, which developed as the major trading port in Northern Europe, in contrast to the collapse of Antwerp that had been under Spanish control. Indeed, the office of the Stadtholder, the highest rank in charge of the military, was held for the major part of the seventeenth century by one of the princes of Orange, descendants of William the Silent who had led the Dutch in the fight against

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the Spanish. Thus it was a continuation of the aristocratic power they had previously enjoyed. However, the core of national political power rested now with the elite wealthy townsfolk of the day. During this period of dramatic change in politics, economics and religion, the reorganization of Dutch society and culture proceeded apace. It can be said that religion was one of the main reasons for the United Provinces to take up arms against Spain, and in fact, Calvinism became the main religious group in the Dutch Republic, though Catholicism was also permitted. However, practicing the Catholic faith in public places was forbidden, and thus it can be said that the principal teachings of Calvinism permeated deeply into Dutch culture. In fact, given the Calvinist belief in the importance of the faithful reading the Bible for themselves, the Dutch government decided in 1617 to fund the translation of the Bible into the vernacular, and that translation was published in 1637. Then, it is noteworthy that alongside the church, it was the family that played a major role in the formation of society during this time. In fact, the publications already in print from around the 1520s onwards discussing household management and the home became extremely popular by the end of the 16th century, and were published in great numbers at that time.38 These publications provided not only practical advice on how to run a household, they had the bigger goal of promoting the ideal, moral Christian home, taking a Calvinist stance in their positioning of the home as the place for the permeation of the Christian virtues that formed the basis for their society. Indeed, these books considered the home to be a kleyne kerck, literally a little church.39 The frontispiece for the second edition of Oeconomia Christiana (Christian Economy; 1655/1661) by Petrus Wittewrongel, one such household book, is fascinating in terms of this emphasis on reading the Bible (Figs.  1.8 and 1.9).40 The cartouche in the center of the third register from the top shows a scene of a family of children gathered around their father who is teaching them from the Bible, while the left side of the composition shows the figure of a youth who has come to participate in the study session. Meanwhile, the mother sits 38

39 40

It can be indicated that Cats’ Houwelyck (1625) was the most influential of these books. See De Jongh 1974; Franits 1986, pp. 37–39; Franits 1993, pp. 5–9; and Westermann 2001, pp. 54–55. Regarding naming the home as a “kleyne kerck” or small church, see Franits 1986, p. 38; Franits 1993, p. 112; and Westermann 2001, p. 54. Regarding the interpretation of this frontispiece, see Westermann 2001, pp. 54–55. See also Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark, 2001–2002, p. 174, no. 38, found in the same publication as Westermann’s essay.

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Figure 1.8 Title page, Petrus Wittewrongel, Oeconomia Christiana ofte Christelicke Huyshoudinge (Christian Economy, or the Christian Household), Amsterdam, 1661.

Figure 1.9 Detail of Fig. 1.8.

on the side of the hearth, taking care of an infant, while to her right a female servant is sweeping the floor of playing cards, the symbol of temptation. Thus, this scene presents the home as the place where children are taught and raised and where good religious practices are carried out. Undoubtedly this belief in the importance of the home also exerted considerable influence on the arts. In Holland after 1650, pictures of the virtues of the home were a major trend. In this volume, Loughman discusses Dutch genre paintings dealing with the subject in detail. Moreover, seventeenth-century Dutch citizens acquired great wealth and enjoyed commissioning portraits to preserve their likeness for posterity.

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Traditionally commissioners of portraits came primarily from the aristocracy or high-level clerics, but in the Dutch Republic this consumer base greatly increased, and a remarkable number of portraits were created as a result.41 Seventeenth-century Dutch portraits can be largely divided into two types, the first being those private portraits created as adornment of private homes and to be viewed only by either the subject of the painting or by those in his or her inner circle. The other type, public portraits, were created for viewing by an indeterminate number of people, and put on public display to some degree. As for public portraiture, group portraits of civic guardsmen, administrators of guilds and charitable institutions, members of professional institutions and so on, enjoyed great popularity. These portraits were hung in the place where they were active, whether a guard house or a guild house or an office. Further, portraits of Stadtholders were created in large numbers to adorn political buildings. While these public portraits are fascinating in their own right, this essay will focus on the private portraits more closely linked to the theme of this publication, and will examine the portraits of husbands and wives or of family groups. Let us start by examining examples of portraits of husband and wife pairs, the focal center of the home. How was the relationship between a husband and wife depicted? There are two types of husband and wife portraits, namely two individual portraits of the sitters made in a pair and double portraits in which the husband and wife are shown in a single composition.42 The former is the older tradition, and in that type it is rare to see an expression of the new values of close love between husband and wife in place of images of two formally dressed figures. However, in the case of Frans Hals’ paintings of Joseph Coymans, a successful merchant in Amsterdam, and his wife Dorothea Berck, daughter of a member of Holland’s diplomatic services, the painter has shown the superior position of the male, while also adroitly depicting the love relationship between the two (Figs. 1.10 and 1.11).43 Hung as a pair, the wife looks out at the viewer while also turning at about the same angle as her husband. He on the other hand has his gloved left hand resting beneath his chest in a pose that gives a sense of solemn dignity to the image. The wife, conversely, has both of her hands crossed in front of her body, in a quieter pose, and a slight smile can be seen on her mouth. The husband’s head is slightly higher than 41 42 43

The fashion for portraits in seventeenth-century Netherlands became quite striking in the 1580s. See Ekkart 2007a, pp. 21–22. Westermann 2001, p. 50. Regarding this pair of portraits, see Slive, 1970–1974, I, pp. 159–160, 170, 172, 185, II, plates. 243, 244, III, pp. 81–83, nos. 160, 161; and Westermann, 2001, pp. 50–51.

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Figure 1.10 F rans Hals, Portrait of Joseph Coymans, 1644, Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford.

Figure 1.11 Frans Hals, Portrait of Dorothea Berck, 1644, Baltimore Museum of Art, Baltimore.

that of the wife, and in line with husband-wife portrait traditions, he is seen as if he were standing on the left, to the right of his wife. In Christian iconographic tradition, the right side is the more honored side.44 These particular husband and wife portraits were painted in 1644. In October of that year, their daughter Isabella married the son of the wealthy Haarlem family, Geraerdts. It has been indicated that this pair of portraits may have been commissioned to adorn Isabella’s new home.45 Portraits of her parents may have been intended as setting a good role model for their daughter as a new bride. Such private-use portraiture could be hung in the home to “preserve the connection between younger generations and their ancestors.”46 Undoubtedly the Geraerdts family gratefully received Hals’ portraits, given 44

45 46

For example, in Last Judgment scenes the blessed are arranged on the right side of God, while those condemned to hell are depicted on the left side, thus indicting that the right side triumphs over the left side. This placement tradition was also followed in husband and wife double portraits. Exh. Cat. Washington, London and Haarlem 1989–1990, p. 322. Constantijn Huygens, secretary to the Stadthoulder Frederick Hendrick, noted “Thanks to them [portraits] we surely do not die and we as descendants can maintain contact with our ancestors.” Huygens 1987, p. 81.

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Figure 1.12 F rans Hals, Portrait of Stephan Geraerdts, ca. 1650–1652, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp.

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Figure 1.13 F rans Hals, Portrait of Isabella Coymans, ca. 1650–1652, private collection.

that around the following year, 1645, Isabella Coymans and her new husband Stephanus Geraerdts commissioned Hals to paint their own portraits (Figs. 1.12 and 1.13). In the case of this pair of portraits, the intimate relationship between the young couple is more clearly emphasized, as the husband turns toward his wife, pointing at her with his ungloved right hand, as if introducing his wife to the viewer of the portrait. At the same time, Isabella smiles slightly as she looks at her husband and offers him a rose.47 In this pair of works, the wife’s head is placed slightly higher than that of the husband, and thus the wife gives out a much more lively and cheerful impression. Then, does the fact that the expression of the daughter bride in this portrait emphasizes all the more clearly the intimacy between husband and wife than the pair of portraits of her parents mean that with the change in generation and period there was a desire to more frankly and thoroughly express the mutual love of husband and wife? Or was this simply a result of Frans Hals’ 47

Regarding this pair of portraits, see Slive 1970–1974, I. pp. 51, 160, 184–185, II, plates 290, 291, III, pp. 97–99, nos. 188, 189; Exh. Cat. Washington, London and Haarlem 1989–1990, pp. 322–325; and Chapman 2001, pp. 144.

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own stylistic choices? In this type of husband and wife pair portrait, Hals did not usually paint works depicting such close relationships between husband and wife, and further, because the commissioner’s input is such an important part of portraiture, it would be natural to consider that in this case the young couple were involved in the composition of the picture. So far we have examined two types of husband and wife portraits by Frans Hals. Compared to pair portraits that followed the old tradition, the double portrait type in which the couple is shown in a single composition allowed for a richer development of variations and often placed couples in narrative contexts. Jan de Bray, like Hals, active in Haarlem, painted Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and his Wife Margarieta van Bancken, in 1663 (Fig.  1.14).48 This work is a fascinating example of the developed double portrait type in its full expression of the overwhelming love between husband and wife. Casteleyn, a Haarlem printer and newspaper publisher, and his wife Margarieta are shown relaxing as they sit on chairs in a space that appears to be half terrace, half library. The bookshelves placed on the left edge of the composition, the large globe, and the bust portrait of Laurens Janszoon Coster, then one of the most famous citizens in Haarlem renowned for his invention of a Dutch printing press – these motifs are all linked to Casteleyn’s profession. The gesture of his right hand, as if he is talking to someone on the viewer’s side, also hints of his job of transmitting the news through his publication of newspapers. His left hand is extended into the middle of the composition, and there takes the right hand of his wife. These joined hands, along with the vining plant that grows in the clump of trees on the right side of the composition, symbolize harmony and trust between husband and wife. The drawing of the same composition today in the Fondation Custodia, Paris (Fig. 1.15), shows two women climbing stairs up from the garden and approaching, with the wife Margarieta pointing to the women with her left hand, as if to bring them to her husband’s notice. However, the oil painting, thought to have been made after the drawing, includes some compositional changes, with the right-hand section omitted and with it the women. Margarieta’s left hand extended to the right, however, remains in the same pose. Thus, the wife seen in the oil painting­ looks at her husband surrounded by the tools of his trade and gestures to the garden, suggested by the trees, as if inviting him to step out into the garden. In traditional iconography, the garden refers to the garden of love, and thus it is possible that this portrait shows the husband’s world of work compared to the 48

Regarding this husband and wife portrait, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, pp. 181–183, no. 36; Chapman 2001, p. 144; and Exh. Cat. London and The Hague 2007–2008, pp. 86–78, no. 5.

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Figure 1.14 J an de Bray, Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and His Wife Margarieta van Bancken, 1663, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Figure 1.15 Jan de Bray, Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and His Wife Margarieta van Bancken, 1663, Fondation Custodia, Frits Lugt Collection, Paris.

proper home environment that must be her point of careful focus.49 In fact, if we look at the picture and seem to hear Margarieta’s voice, “Dear, did you get all your work done?” – is it an all too contemporary interpretation of the scene? Let us now examine another fascinating work that stands as witness to the deep affection between a husband and his wife. Because we know the precise impetus for the creation of the work and where it was displayed, we can also specifically conjure an image of the recipients and consumers of this work. This work is Frans van Mieris the Elder’s work, Portrait of Franciscus de le Boë 49

Jan de Bray’s construct of positioning the husband and wife in an exterior setting implying the “garden of love” is thought to have been borrowed from Frans Hals’ famous Double Portrait of Isaac Massa and Beatrix van der Laen. Regarding this portrait by Hals, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, pp. 124–130, no. 20; and Exh. Cat. London and The Hague 2007–2008, pp. 106–109, no. 15.

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Sylvius and his Wife Magdalena Lucretia Schletzer (Fig.  1.16).50 This painting inscribed with the date 1672 is a portrait of husband and wife commissioned by Sylvius, a Leyden doctor of international renown, from Van Mieris the Elder. However, his wife Magdalena had already died a month after giving birth to their daughter in 1669. Her daughter outlived Magdalena by only seven months, and undoubtedly Sylvius was deeply affected by their deaths. He wrote about his newly deceased daughter, “She already showed her mother’s virtues in the most miraculous fashion,” and described his short married life with Magdalena as “very happy for both partners because of a harmony of souls.”51 In other words, for Sylvius, this portrait allowed him to project himself into a scene with his deceased wife and recall their life together. The severe black garments worn by Sylvius contrast with the French fashion worn by his wife, from colorful silk gown to draped fur stole and semitransparent veil, while the two gaze at each other. Magdalena plays the lute, a well-known symbol of marital harmony.52 Eight months after this work was

Figure 1.16 Frans van Mieris the Elder, Portrait of Franciscus de le Boë Sylvius and His Wife Magdalena Lucretia Schletzer, 1672, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemäldegalerie, Dresden.

50 51 52

Regarding this husband-wife portrait, see Sluijter 2001, pp. 106–107, 113. See also in the catalog that includes Sluijter’s article, Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002, p. 196, no. 85. Sluijter 2001, p. 107. Regarding music as an allegory for conjugal harmony, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, pp. 40–45.

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painted Sylvius died. The inventory of his estate created at the time of his death indicated that this portrait of husband and wife was one of forty-two works hanging in a room on the second floor of the front of his house, a bedroom in his combined workplace and residence that faced Leyden’s Rapenburg Street.53 A cradle as sad memento of his daughter was also placed in this room. Thus in his final year Sylvius lived with the memories of his beloved family. The above four seventeenth-century Dutch portraits of husbands and their wives express the close relationship between husband and wife based on affection, and display a range of differences in degree. Then we might ask, what is the relationship between such images of husband and wife and the views of marriage in general at the time? In Holland the role of the family as the basis of society was emphasized, as previously noted, and marriage was clearly stipulated as the starting point for the family. Martin Luther himself strongly rejected a number of the Catholic teachings and asserted that marriage is by no means less virtuous than celibacy.54 In 1525, Luther, an Augustinian monk by training, at the age of forty-one married Katharina von Bora, aged twenty-six, who bore him six children. Luther’s positive affirmation of marriage was taken up by the Calvinists, and the joining of man and woman in marriage was strongly encouraged as desirable in seventeenth-century Dutch society. How a marriage should be conducted for faithful Christians included the firm emphasis on the spiritual and mental connection between husband and wife as good life companions. While physical attraction was not necessarily denied, it was normal to select a marriage partner through moderate interactions. Calvinism was, however, discrete about the sexual act between husband and wife for pleasure beyond the aim of procreation. Even if the sexual act itself was a sin, it was ameliorated by the state of virtuous marriage, thus asserting that sexual intercourse between husband and wife is a pure, good, and indeed, a holy act.55 In early modern Dutch society, what was important in choosing a companion was not physical attraction or romantic love, but rather their compatibility in terms of the social position of the two families and similar dispositions.56 53 54 55 56

Sluijter 2001, pp. 112–113. Regarding scholarly discussion of the support of marriage by Luther and other members of the Reformation, see Ozment 1983, pp. 1–49. Bouwsma 1988, pp. 136–137. Thus said, however, other than the admonitions to be virtuous, in seventeenth-century Dutch society, with its relatively late typical marriage age, young men and women were known to have had relatively free interactions. Further, large numbers of paintings were created on the theme of socially acceptable courtship. See Franits 1993, pp. 18–61.

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This model of good Christian marriage became a popular theme in prints. An example can be found in a series of three prints produced around 1595 by Jan Saenredam, works based on original compositions by Hendrick Goltzius.57 This series contrasts good and bad marriage with the examples of Marriage Based on Lust with Cupid joining a young man and woman and Marriage Based on Avarice and Luxury showing an old couple enjoined by Satan, contrasted by The True Marriage (Fig. 1.17). In The True Marriage, a relatively mature man takes a relatively young bride, and it is Christ himself who solemnly officiates over the couple, their hands clasped. The bride holds in one hand the palm branch, usually held by martyred saints, but here it is likely a symbol of her purity. The inscription on the print reads, “Those who are joined by true love and a chaste marriage bed will be faithful to each other.”58 The term “castum cubile (a chaste marriage bed)” stems from Paul’s Letter to the Hebrews 13:4, which states, “Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually

Figure 1.17 Jan Saenredam after Hendrick Goltzius, The True Marriage, from the series Three Kinds of Marriages, ca. 1595, The British Museum, London.

57 58

Regarding this series of prints, see Veldman 1986, pp. 117–118. “Quos connectit amor verus, castumque cubile/Auspice iunguntur Christo, remanentque fideles.”

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immoral.” In the married life described here, this text emphasizes conjugal fidelity not only for the wife, but also for the husband. Further, in the right back of the image, the husband is seen receiving a crown from his wife. This is a literal pictorialization of the metaphor of the wife as the husband’s crown, found in the Old Testament passage Proverbs 12:4, “A wife of noble character is her husband’s crown, but a disgraceful wife is like decay in his bones.” From Saenredam’s print series we can read that the most important thing in a Christian marriage is fidelity and a joining of partners based on a foundation of mutual trust. The teachings of the Bible, however, absolutely did not call for gender equality in the contemporary sense, and we must fully remember this fact. While he introduced the metaphor from Proverbs of the wife as husband’s crown, the wife’s dependant status is clearly expressed by Paul in Ephesians 5:22–24, “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.” But conversely, Paul also stated in Ephesians 5:25, “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her,” thus exhorting husbands to love their wives. In fact, according to the interpretation by the Protestant Church, men and women are equal under God, and cooperation between husband and wife are emphasized in married life. Far different from the status of wives in premodern Japan where the patriarchal primogeniture system gave them no rights over assets, in the Dutch Republic wives held great legal authority and a wife’s assets were recognized. For example, when a husband was overseas or dead, the wife could conduct business on her own.59 In the four husband-wife portraits discussed above, the husband is shown on the right side of the wife, and clearly in pictorial conventions this indicates the superiority of the husband over the wife. However, there is absolutely no emphasis on the differences in status between husband and wife. This reflects the Dutch husband and wife relationship in which the wife has some degree of authority. In fact, even from today’s vantage point, they appear to be essentially equal partners in these images. Though, we must remember that family views at the time stipulated that husband and wife had clearly defined and separate roles within the household. This view of the family, as previously seen in the husband sitting in front of his office desk and the wife inviting him to the garden in Portrait of Abraham Casteleyn and Margaretha van Bancken, is more explicitly expressed in genre scenes than in portraits per se. However, it is fascinating to note that the 59

Regarding the economic activities of women in Dutch society, see De Vries and Van der Woude 1997, pp. 586–606.

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fashion was to create genre scene-type portraits in which the close familial relationships are shown within the family home. This represented the ideal home at the time. Next let’s consider this type of genre-style imagery of the ideal home. 1.5

Family Portraits

In the latter half of the seventeenth century in the Dutch Republic, a large number of family portraits with an emphasis on familial affection were produced and as such are extremely accessible for viewers today. For example, there is a group of paintings that were part of a trend from the sixteenth to the beginning of the seventeenth centuries that show the family gathered around a table saying prayers before their meal. Let us compare one such work, an oil painting from 1627 (Fig.  1.18)60 with Jacob Ochtervelt’s work from the 1660s (Fig. 1.19).61 The earlier work simply shows a good, respectful Christian family rather than any social interchange between strict parents and children. The latter work, on the other hand, appears to focus on the peaceful, loving interaction between the family members. The differences between the two works is clear, with the strict atmosphere of the family assembled around the table

Figure 1.18

60 61

 nonym, Family at Table, 1627, Rijksmuseum Het A Catharijneconvent, Utrecht, on loan from the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Regarding this painting, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, pp. 295–299, no. 73; Franits 1986, pp. 39–40; and Franits 1993, pp. 142–145. Regarding this painting by Ochterveld, see Kuretsky 1979, pp. 60–61, no. 19 and Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002, pp. 55–56, 165, no. 21.

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contrasting with the family depicted by Ochtervelt, and its scene of the family assembled in the living room reminiscent of the extremely ordinary scene today of an affluent middle class family. In the Ochtervelt work, the master of the household, the father, sits comfortably in his chair, dressed in high-quality, elegant black clothing. On his left the mother stands in a relaxed pose, wearing a blue silk skirt embroidered with gold thread, and a white fur-trimmed, gray velvet jacket. The mother is thus dressed in elegant and elaborate clothing, but she still wears an apron, indicating that she is a wife who does not neglect her household duties. She is placed in the center of the composition and holds an orange in her right hand, a symbol of fertility. In fact it seems that there were four children in the family, with two children and a spaniel shown in the right foreground, another child by the mother’s skirts reaching towards the dog. A female servant stands at the right edge of the composition, holding an infant. An Italianate landscape painting hangs over the fireplace, while a tapestry showing the Madonna and Child surrounded by music-playing angels adorns the wall on the right of the composition. The center wall, over the wife’s head, shows a pair of portraits of husband and wife that can be surmised stylistically to have been painted in the 1630s. It can be posited that these are images of her parents. Of note here is the fact that the wife is wearing an apron and holds a piece of fruit in her hand. These symbols indicate that she was an enthusiastic housewife and blessed with children, two virtues that were considered important for women of the day. Further, in the Dutch Republic, where a woman’s sphere of

Figure 1.19 J acob Ochtervelt, Family Portrait, ca. 1664. Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford.

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societal activity was restricted, the home was the woman’s place of activity. In fact, in the numerous books on household management published at the time, such as the great bestseller by Jacob Cats, Houwelyck (Marriage; Middelburg, first edition 1625), the wife followed her husband, maintained her conjugal fidelity and devoted herself to housekeeping. Such emphasis led to the large production of pictures depicting wives suitably pursuing their housekeeping, whether cleaning, managing household linens, shopping, food preparation, or managing servants.62 Further, as previously noted regarding the Calvinist teachings that sexual intercourse in marriage was solely for procreation, having children was a great joy in marriage and childrearing was the wife’s responsibility. The Biblical teaching that children are a blessing is also suggested in the aforementioned 1627 oil painting (Fig.  1.18) depicting four children praying before a meal. This teaching is hinted at by the grape vine that extends from the exterior into the room interior through the open window. This motif is based on Psalms 128:3, “Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your sons will be like olive shoots around your table.”63 This painting shows well-mannered children praying before a meal, indicating the proper training and upbringing they have received in the home. Conversely, the Ochtervelt work emphasizes the adorable nature of children through its depiction of the children’s various reactions to the spaniel. However, while the Ochtervelt work depicts a living room suitable for showing the wealthy lifestyle of the family, let us now examine Hendrik Sorgh’s Portrait of the Bierens Family (Fig. 1.20), set in the kitchen, seemingly not an appropriate setting for a portrait painting.64 The husband Jacob Bierens, appears on the left of the composition holding up a fish and entering a kitchen. The younger son accompanies the father, carrying a large platter supporting two more fish. This does not mean that Bierens is either a fisherman or a fishmonger; rather the act of carrying the fish indicates that he is a good provider for family. The younger son is helping the father, suggesting that when he grows up he too will have to support a family. The wife, meanwhile, is seen in the kitchen peeling an apple, while the daughter is shown plucking feathers off a bird. The two women are thus working diligently at managing the goods brought to them by the husband. The family is shown in the same plain style of dress as the maidservant seen 62 63 64

Franits 1993, pp. 62–110. See Footnote 58. Regarding this painting, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, pp. 248–250, no. 58; and Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002, pp. 59–60, 143, 175, no. 40.

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Figure 1.20 Hendrik Martensz Sorgh, Portrait of the Bierens Family, 1663, The Netherlands Institute for Cultural Heritage, Amsterdam.

drawing water in the left back corner of the composition. This is not unrelated to the fact that they are Mennonites who honor frugality and do not require splendor. Similarly, the husband does not carry meat; rather he holds the fish that is eaten during Lent. Further, on the right edge of the composition the older son plays a viola da gamba, even though clearly the kitchen is not a suitable place for music to be performed. Just as the lute-playing wife in the Van Mieris the Elder work mentioned above symbolizes marital harmony, the playing of music here symbolizes the harmonious relationship amongst the family members. Thus the harmony found in this home is based on the division of roles between the two principle members, the husband who works outside to support the family and the wife who manages the home. Then we might ask, were the women of the Dutch Republic at the time satisfied with the allocation of roles to husband and wife that limited their activities to the household? Did complete harmony based on division of labor within the household, as seen in Sorgh’s painting, actually exist? Of course this is not an easily answered question, and it is not hard to imagine that circumstances varied by individual household. However, to the degree confirmable by the art works depicting 17th-century Dutch household scenes, while a great number of works criticizing women neglecting their household work or absorbed in eating and drinking can be confirmed, there are no works that are critical of the limiting of women’s activities in society. Of note in this regard is the series of works Women at Domestic Chores (Fig. 1.21) created in 1648–1650 by Geertruyt Roghman, one of the rare women printmakers of the day.65 This set of five prints, an unusual example of a woman herself depicting the lifestyle of a middle-class woman of her day, shows women engaged in such household tasks as sewing and cooking. 65

Regarding the interpretation of this print series, see Westermann, 2001, p. 49. See also the catalog where Westermann’s article is published, Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002, p. 193, no. 78.

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Figure 1.21 G  eertruyt Roghman, Woman Spinning, with Girl, from the series Women at Domestic Chores, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The women concentrate exclusively on their respective tasks, and even though in such imagery we can read praise of womanly industry, there is no sense that the women are unwilling. Of course, it goes without saying that art works do not fully reflect the complex daily lives of women of the time or individual differences between people. It is highly likely that the force of stereotyping is at work in such images. Consequently, we can anticipate that further clarification of and specific examples of how the ruling view of families and social structure of the day were received by women of the day will come from future advances in research on so-called ego documents. In terms of art works, however, I would like to confirm the tendency to consider the home the realm of women, not of men. An example of this trend can be found in Hendrik Sorgh’s The Family of Eeuwout Prins (Fig. 1.22).66 In this painting the foreground shows large images of the wife Maria van der Graeff and her two daughters. She helps balance the younger child seated on a table on her left as seen from the viewer’s stance, while she uses the other hand to pass some food to the good child who follows her commands. The dog obediently sitting up and begging in the foreground suggests that the children must be also trained and disciplined. In contrast with this image of the mother raising the children, the father Prins is separated, off by himself, as if the home is not his place. He sits in the back of the composition in front of a desk signaling a library 66

Regarding this painting, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, pp. 246–247, no. 57; Chapman 2001, pp. 139–141.

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Figure 1.22 Hendrik Martensz Sorgh, The Family of Eeuwout Prins, 1661, Historisch Museum Rotterdam, Rotterdam.

or office, gazing out at his family. Given the evanescent presence of the husband in this painting, one wonders what kind of discussion occurred between husband and wife and painter when this painting was commissioned, and how this compositional arrangement was determined. Was it the wife Maria who was the principal behind the portrait commission? Or did the husband Prins want his wife and children shown in larger form than his own image. In any event, this portrait symbolizes the importance of the wife in the household. In all four family portraits discussed above, only a husband and wife pair and their children are depicted, excluding a maidservant, and it is only the Ochtervelt work that has picture-within-picture inclusion of portraits of the wife’s parents. In other words, these works are all images of a nuclear f­amily. They can be said to reflect the ordinary family structure in the Dutch Repub­ lic  at the time. The belief that a typical pre-Industrial Revolution European family structure consisted of more than two generations of a family or other relatives all cohabiting is not correct. Statistically, in urban settings, clearly the nuclear family was the standard and norm.67 In spite of this fact, even in the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic, there were portrait  paintings created in which more family members were depicted than just the basic 67

It is said that up until the seventeenth century the average family size in the northwestern Netherlands was 3.7 people. See Van der Woude 1972.

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husband-wife-children structure. An example of this kind of family portrait can be seen in Jan Miense Molenaer’s Portrait of the Painter’s Family (Fig. 1.23). 1.6

The Group Family Portrait as Fiction

Molenaer’s work is one of the earliest examples of a portrait depicting a family playing music together as symbol of their familial harmony, an allegory then popular in the Dutch Republik.68 Unlike Sorgh’s Bierens’ family portrait, the portrait presents Molenaer’s extended family group, not just his nuclear family. The eight elegantly garbed figures depicted in the foreground include Molenaer himself plus his four younger brothers and three younger sisters. Molenaer stands on the right side of the composition, facing the viewer holding his left hand to his chest, as if introducing himself and his family members to the viewers. From the left to right, the depicted figures are Geertruijt (with sistrum), Bartholomeus (violin), Adriaen (lute), Maria (music book), Anthonij (viola da gamba), and beside the painter his infant brother Nicolaes and his younger sister Lucia. Further, there are two older men in slightly old-fashioned clothing seen behind the virginal. They are the painter’s older brothers by a different mother, Meijndert and Cornelis. The small portrait held by Cornelis is their mother Cornelia Jans. Cornelia predeceased her husband Jan Mientsen, and he remarried Grietje Adriaens. Molenaer was born the first of their eight children. Molenaer’s father and mother are each shown holding a Bible in the pair of portraits hanging on the back wall of the depicted space. They are dressed in

Figure 1.23 Jan Miense Molenaer, Portrait of the Painter’s Family, ca. 1635, Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, on loan from the Netherlands Institute for Cultural Heritage, Amsterdam. 68

Regarding Molenaer’s painting, see Chapman, 2001, pp. 141–142; Exh. Cat. Raleigh, Columbus and Manchester 2002–2003, pp. 2–4; Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Hamburg 2004, pp. 160–163, no. 34; and Exh. Cat. London and The Hague 2007–2008, pp. 166–167, no. 42.

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garments that resemble those worn around the time of their marriage in 1610, and it is possible that two such portraits were made in honor of their marriage. The father’s right hand rests on a skull on a table, while the wife’s hand rests on an hourglass, both symbols of the evanescence of human life. The portrait of the Molenaer family, judging from the clothes worn, is thought to have been made around the mid-1630s. Given that the father Jan Mientsen, died in 1636, and appears in the painting as a picture-within-a-picture portrait, it is highly possible that this family portrait was made on the occasion of his death. In fact, there are other death-related motifs in the painting. The younger brother Nicolaes, on the right edge of the composition, is blowing bubbles, suggesting that human life is as fleeting as the life of a soap bubble. The allegorical female figure of justice holding a sword and scales, seen on the pillar base behind the bubble-blowing little boy, can also be a warning about the day of final judgment. On the other hand, the emphasis on the virtue of the family gathered in the picture is also important. The woman in the center keeps rhythm with her right hand, and the word for rhythm in Dutch is “maat,” which also means moderation. This motif then emphasizes the importance of maintaining the rules of family harmony. The dog lying on the cushions in the foreground is a symbol of faithfulness. The motif of two hands and a heart pierced by two arrows, depicted on the hinged lid of the virginal, refers to love and unity. In other words, this family portrait emphasizes the importance of maintaining harmonious relationships amongst the family in the midst of the fleeting nature of human existence. Further of note is the presence of eight small portraits arranged beneath those of Molenaer’s parents (Fig.  1.24). Then we might ask, why were such ­picture-within-picture portraits depicted? In fact, we can surmise that even if the viewers of these pictures at the time were not able to identify the people depicted in the inserted images, they could readily understand that these images were meant to be portraits of members of Molenaer’s family. The preceding

Figure 1.24

Detail of Fig. 1.23.

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discussion in this paper has emphasized the democratic nature of Dutch society. But in fact, on the other hand, it is known that the Dutch citizens who had become wealthy and formed an upper middle class gradually took on more aristocratic ideals and practices. Thus, the Molenaer family portrait can be considered a clear reflection of this trend. Amongst the upper middle class, there were some who commissioned portraits of their ancestors, as was done by the aristocracy, with the aim of proudly displaying their own proper family lineage. Let us consider this issue on the basis of portraits of the ancestors of Gerrit Pietersz Schaep (Figs.  1.25 and 1.26), displayed today in the Amsterdam Museum.69 Schaep was a lawyer born in his mother’s hometown of Dordrecht in 1599 and it was there that he married in 1623. After holding several public offices he moved to Amsterdam in 1629. In 1631 he became a governor of the civic orphanage, and in 1638 an alderman and a member of the city council. Up until 1647 he was also a representative of the Admiralty of the States in Zeeland, and subsequently until 1649 he worked as a councilor of the Rekenkamer der Grafelijkheidsdomeinen (the exchequer) in the Hague. Then he spent two years in England. In his last years he was again in Amsterdam and acted as a spokesman for the Calvinist faith. He died in 1655. He is also known to have been an enthusiastic student of the genealogies of Amsterdam’s prestigious families. Schaep himself explains why he came to commission the creation of a set of portraits depicting his own family lineage. In essence, “In Dordrecht, regardless of their status and work, people make ancestor portraits and a genealogical tree to hang on display. Thus, when I lived there, I also wanted to show the ancestors of my father’s side from whom I am descended.”70 In other words, he was driven more so by the customs of Dordrecht, which were more strikingly aristocratic in nature, than by those of his adopted city of Amsterdam. Originally, images of a family lineage were of interest to and a feature of the ruling class. This custom then spread to the rulers’ vassal aristocracy, involving the creation of family genealogies, the establishment of the custom of family crests and decorating one’s home with portraits of generations of ancestors. In the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic, the new, rising upper middle class also came to adopt and enjoy a fashion for the creation of genealogies along with a strengthening interest in the lineages of important families. The Schaep family portrait series can thus be seen as concrete portrait images of such a genealogy. 69 70

Regarding these two portraits, see Bok 1996, p. 226; Van Heel 2002, p. 60; and Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 2002, p. 92, no. 5. This explanation is quoted from Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 2002, p. 92.

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S ymon Hendricksz and Other Painters, The Ancestors of Gerrit Pietersz Schaep, paternal side, 17th century, Amsterdam Museum, Amsterdam, on loan from the Backer Foundation.

Figure 1.26 Symon Hedricksz and Other Painters, The Ancestors of Gerrit Pietersz Schaep, maternal side, 17th century, Amsterdam Museum, Amsterdam, on loan from the Backer Foundation.

This series of genealogical portraits are in a specific format – each of the two 84 cm × 154 cm copperplates show tiny portraits of respectively, his maternal and paternal ancestors and their descendants. The series of paternal ancestor portraits (Fig. 1.25) shows an inscription plaque on the left side of the middle rank of figures, containing an explanation of the depicted figures gathered on the copperplate (with the exception of the figures depicted in the eight small added drawings in the upper right). Similarly, the family crest appears on the

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right edge of the same row of figures. The two drawings in the far upper right are the work of David Bailly and depict Gerrit Schaep himself and his wife Johanna de Visscher. The oil painting to the left of those drawings depicts Gerrit’s parents and Gerrit as a child. To the left of the oil painting is his paternal great-grandfather, further to the left is his great-great-grandfather, and so on, for a presentation of more than a century of his paternal ancestors. The child in the family portrait on the left side of the central row is Jan de Visscher, father of Johanna who would later become Gerrit Schaep’s wife, with Jan’s parents depicted on either side of him. The painting to the right of this family portrait shows Jan Claes Pyll, Gerrit’s maternal ancestor from Dordrecht. These portraits are all copies based on the old portraits that Schaep discovered in the Kloveniersdoelen (headquarters for musketeer branch of the civic militia) in Amsterdam and the others. By contrast, there were great hindrances present at the time when Schaep sought to make portraits of the seven figures in the bottom row; Schaep’s ancestors included a mayor of Amsterdam and aldermen in the fifteenth century. Back in that period, portrait production was not carried out in Amsterdam. As a result, naturally, no visual record existed of the visages of his forebears. To resolve this problem Schaep simply thought up their features on his own. Then, in 1638 he commissioned the painter Adriaen Muylkens to produce these images with an honorarium of ten guilders for each image. In fact, the portraits of his maternal ancestors (Fig. 1.26) are similarly products of his imagination, what we today might call instant ancestors, and in fact resemble copies of the donor portraits that can be found on the wings of altarpiece paintings. In other words, this type of ancestor portrait did not involve the depicted person actually posing for their portrait, or even the existence of an original picture of the sitter that could be used as a model. Rather, they are all depictions based solely on the imagination of the commissioner of the portraits. The important thing in such instances was not the re-creation of the sitter’s facial features, but rather the depicted crests and the emphasis on family lineage. Dudok van Heel has called these type of portraits, “voorouder-iconen,” literally ancestor icons, and has indicated that the creation of such ancestor icons was popular in the Dutch Republic from the second quarter of the seventeenth century onwards.71 However, what is unique about Schaep’s series of ancestor portraits is their unusual positioning of small portraits on a single copper plate. The more common practice was to hang portrait paintings in a row on a wall. For example, when Hendrik Jacob van Tuyll van Serooskerke married his younger stepsister, and as a result of the marriage became lord of Slot Zuylen Castle, he 71

Van Heel 2002, pp. 59–61.

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commissioned the Utrecht painter Hendrick Bloemaert to create a series of ancestor portraits. These portraits depict seven generations of his male ancestors, and the portrait of the oldest of his ancestors (Fig. 1.27), is inscribed “Pieter van/Tuyll Ridder/eerschappe van/Serooskerke/aetat. 26. 1456” (Pieter van/ Tuyll knight/lord of/Serooskerke/aged 26. 1456). At first glance this inscription implies that the portrait was a copy based on an older portrait.72 However, given that the garments seen on the sitter do not fit his time period, this too appears to be an ancestor icon, without any original image as its basis. In fact, even the Oranjes, as counts of Nassau, did not possess any portraits that dated back that far. The series of full length, life size portraits created upon Van Tuyll becoming lord of Slot Zuylen Castle are eloquent testimony of the spread of aristocratic tastes in the Dutch society during the latter half of the seventeenth century.

Figure 1.27 H  endrick Bloemaert, Portrait of Pieter van Tuyll van Serooskerke, 1670, Slot Zuylen Castle, Oud-Zuylen.

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Regarding this series of portraits by Hendrick Bloemart, see Roethlisberger and Bock, 1993, vol. 1, pp. 500–502, cat. nos. H137-H143, and vol. 2., figs. H136-H142; and Van Heel 2002, pp. 57–59.

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Given this fashion for the production of ancestor portraits, it is highly likely that the eight small portraits seen as picture-within-pictures in Molenaur’s family portrait (Figs. 1.23 and 1.24) are fictitious portraits that were meant to only resemble images of his ancestral lineage. In fact, suggestive in this regard are the four crests depicted in four of the eight images. Conversely, two of the figures in the small portraits cannot be seen, and one of them can only be seen partially, since these three small portraits are positioned just behind the main figures in the foreground. In other words, importance was not placed on the actual portraits of these figures. Consequently, the role of these eight portraits was not as a transmission of their facial features, but rather to enact an image of the historical lineage of an important family. There is nothing in the figure of Molenaer himself, depicted in elegant garments with his right hand at his hip and his left hand at his chest, to suggest his profession as a painter, and similarly there is no indication that his father, seen in the picture-within-picture in the background, was actually a tailor. What is depicted here is an affluent middle-class family enjoying music, and the imaginary ancestral portraits suggest that the family lineage can be traced back a long way. At the time the painting was created, the young Molenaer was only in his mid-20s, yet in the image he in effect raised his family’s status and depicted himself as a part of the upper middle class of society. We can surmise from historical records, however, that in fact Molenaer’s family financial situation was not good at the time this painting was actually created. In June 1636, the year that his father Jan Mientsen died, Molenaer married the painter Judith Leyster, and in August the young couple promised to guarantee the repayment of loans taken by Molenaer’s mother and the other family members who lived with her. These were probably the debts left at the time of his father’s death. As a result, in November of the same year the young couple’s assets were exhausted.73 Given that the wife Judith does not appear in the family painting, this family portrait was probably created prior to Molenaer’s marriage, and it is in fact a reflection of the painter’s sense of responsibility for the family in his role as eldest son, and his intention to honor family harmony even in the face of financial adversity. If that is the case, then Molenaer can be seen to have enacted the wishful image of a prosperous family, the exact opposite of the family’s actual economic situation. Through the above analysis of seventeenth-century Dutch portraits of families and husband and wife pairs, we have examined how married couples, families and the home were visually expressed. And we can say that, in general, as time progressed, works that showed relatively clearly the bonds of affection 73

Broersen 1993, p. 21; and Exh. Cat. Raleigh, Columbus and Manchester 2002–2003, p. 67.

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between husband and wife became more apparent in the genre. In terms of family portraits, while it was most common for family portraits to depict the nuclear family of husband, wife and children, reflecting the most common urban family structures of the day, there were also works created that symbolized the harmony of the family and the division of roles between men and women within a household. By the latter half of the 17th century, the fashion grew for family portraits to depict family members relaxing in their pleasant homes in a genre scene-like arrangement, and these works clearly showed that the household was the wife’s domain. These seventeenthcentury Dutch portraits provide clues in the consideration of Dutch middleclass values regarding married couples and the family. At the same time, it is also important to consider how the messages of the period’s dominant view of families are included in these private portraits. It is fascinating to note that the creation of ancestor icons was born from the spread of aristocratic fashion amongst the Dutch upper middle class and the resultant practice of displaying ancestral portraits in the home. In this regard, family portraits also included the function of raising and confirming a family’s social status, and we have clarified that we must be fully aware of the fictions created to serve such functions. 1.7

Regarding the Contents of This Volume

The purpose of this book is to explore art works depicting children, married couples, families and the home through an examination of the value systems of the periods and regions in which the works were created. It also aims at analyzing these types of art works with the view of understanding the changes and shifts in the value systems of each country and region. There is the tendency to easily interpret these matters from a contemporary viewpoint, despite the necessity and importance of examination from an historical stance. This kind of sociohistorical approach to art works embodies various problems, and we have investigated some interesting examples of genre and portrait paintings created in Edo period Japan and the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic as a way of considering what interpretative basis to present. This book is a product of joint research by various scholars who share this awareness of issues regarding the historical interpretation of visual images. As introduced at the beginning of this introduction, in recent years there has been a burgeoning study of children and the home within the discipline of art history, resulting in the publication of various books on the subject. And yet, these studies have usually focused on specific regions or time periods, and

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unfortunately there has yet to be a book published that considers art works from various different time periods and regions, one that offers a comparative art historical approach. Of course, here too, the subject matter in this book is also limited. However, our joint study approach has made possible the discussion of diverse types of art works created in the West and in Asia from the pre-modern era to the present day. As a result of this approach, we have been able to observe, analyze and discuss quite a diverse range of issues regarding the interpretation of depictions of children, married couples, the family and the home in art. In recent years there has been a reconsidering of the definition of the traditional family and its structure, and in that process the family system as we know it has come under harsh criticism for its subjugation of women. For example, Inoue Takako has in recent years analyzed the role of women in the family during the modern era. Under the myth of maternal love, women have been assigned the role of nurturing good future citizens as part of nation building, and a wife’s affection and support were considered essential elements in sending men out to work and furthering the reproduction process.74 In the past, Inoue states, “women were shut into the private domain of the home in order to reproduce the members of the public sphere known as the nation and the marketplace.”75 Inoue then suggests the creation of intimacy groups as a new form of relationships to replace this family system that subordinates women. In other words, she defines an intimacy group as the medium for mutual concern amongst individuals who mutually recognize the existence of their partner as the “other,” and form relationships that are relatively continuing human connections. Within such an intimacy group, unlike the traditional family, there is no dominant male supporting a weaker female. Whether or not one agrees with Inoue’s view of the family, the proposal for new types of human relationship models such as her intimate sphere concept, along with growing acceptance of same-sex marriage, indicates that in contemporary society the traditional nuclear family model of a male–female couple with children is no longer simply accepted as the only and de rigueur structure. Naturally, this has meant that large numbers of art works are being created on the theme of non-nuclear family forms of close human relationships, same-sex affection and other related issues. However, this book does not address art works created today. The book’s topic is more closely defined as thoughts on art works on the subject of children, the family and the home 74 75

Inoue 2004. Inoue 2004, p. 241.

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and seeks to clarify the historical positioning of such art works. If possible, we would like to address the art works on such contemporary issues as new human relationship models on another occasion. Within the thematic limitation of the historical expression of the family, there is a truly diverse array of individual studies on this topic, and it was therefore difficult to determine exactly which regions and historical periods to address in this volume. First, we determined that post-sixteenth century art provided the richest array of examples for investigation. Then, in terms of Western art, given the plethora of works on the subject of the family found in seventeenth-century Dutch art, we decided to focus on Northern European art, which is featured in three articles published here. The article by Hirakawa investigates the political meaning of the Chris­ tian  subject matter work, The Holy Kinship by the German painter Lucas Cranach the Elder. As noted at the beginning of this introduction, Goncourt’s book Utamaro gives images of the Madonna and Child as the major form of mother-child expression in Western art. Images of Mary and the Infant Jesus are not solely for religious worship, but are also of interest to people as images that express close psychological interactions between mother and child. Conversely, the Holy Kinship iconography includes the Mary, Jesus and Joseph group, along with Mary’s parents Joachim and Anne, the families of Mary’s half-sisters and the family of Anne’s younger sister, thus encompassing a larger family group. This iconography was appropriate for expressing the connections linking a broader spectrum of people. Cranach’s 1509 work, the Altarpiece of the Holy Kinship, includes depictions of Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor; Frederick III, Elector of Saxony and his younger brother and successor John of Saxony, in the guise of Biblical figures. It is further noteworthy that they are shown in in-law parent–child relationships. In this iconographic choice Hirakawa sees an expression of the Elector’s family’s desire for broader political influence. In other words, the sacred blood relationships were used to add status to the ruler’s lineage in both the public and private sphere. Loughman analyzes the fascinating works of Vermeer, de Hooch and Metsu that depict images of daily life in seventeenth-century Dutch homes. These works have long been thought to present a faithful rendition of the lifestyles of the Dutch citizens of the day. However, such interpretations are refuted today and it has been clarified that even if the real world was presented in part, that reality has been dramatized in various ways. Loughman discusses in specific detail the fictitious elements in these paintings and considers what the people of the Netherlands thought about the family and the home, based on the imagery they chose for such paintings.

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Neumeister discusses the images of children in the West, specifically the question of portraits created in the Netherlands in the seventeenth century and in Britain in the eighteenth century. From the energetic expression of children seen in seventeenth-century Netherlandish genre paintings, it can be said that the people of the period took an affectionate attitude towards childish behavior. However, in the field of portraiture, emphasis lay on the expression of rank and social class, and thus children were generally painted as miniature adults. Conversely, in the case of painters depicting their own children, there are exceptions to this rule. Further, in the case of the royal household of the English king Charles I. the famous portrait painter Van Dyck succeeded in vividly capturing the individuality of each of the royal children. Neumeister further discusses portraits depicting children’s playful nature, an iconography begun with the spread of the Enlightenment, and the influence of the Romantic view of children in the depiction of children, thus indicating that the portrait expression of children changed in line with the philosophical trends of the period. While this wealth of art works on the theme of children, the family and home can be found in Western art, as touched upon in my above discussion of Morikage’s Evening Cool painting, in Japanese art of the pre-modern era, while many examples of ancestor portraits exist, there are almost no examples of living family portrait, and there are also very few pictures in which a clear mother-child relationship, or familial relationship can be discerned. In this regard, it seems that there has been no research done using handscrolls and Nara ehon picture books to clarify why this is the case and if in the Muromachi and early Edo periods there came to be, to some degree, artists creating clear images of nuclear family groups. Focusing, on the other hand, on the expression of romantic or erotic love between men and women, it is known that while Japanese classic literature, such as The Tales of Ise and The Tale of Genji, speak repeatedly of relatively open love relationships between couples, a pejorative view of these expressions of such relationships became the norm in the pre-modern era. During this period pre-marital sex was forbidden and marriage without a father’s permission was not condoned. What was preached was the importance of a woman protecting her virginity until marriage. This transformation in social mores can also be thought to have influenced how Heian literature was received and how visual images of these narratives were created. On this question, Yasuda takes early pre-modern visual images of The Tales of Ise, and through a careful investigation of which scenes from the tales were selected for depiction in pictures, indicates that there was a tendency to avoid the love scenes between aristocratic women in the tales, such as Princess

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Nijō, and suggests that this reflects the views of the family and marriage of the period in which the pictures were created. Yasuda’s article will likely provide an extremely fascinating starting point for the future consideration of images of love. While Japanese art works contain few images of the family or the home, images of children, however, were a favored theme. By the Edo period, many of these images of children depicted so-called karako, literally Chinese children, an iconography originally based on Chinese genre images, in which the child has a shaved head with the exception of a few tufts of hair and wears a harakake, or bib-like apron. To contemporary eyes, these karako children do not appear very cute, so we might ask, why were they so commonly depicted? Further, how were images of karako used on art works, and how were such art works received? In other words, this iconography raises myriad questions. Tajima Tatsuya took up this topic of karako. Tajima notes that karako iconography­is tied to the auspicious theme of shison han’ei, literally prosperity through many descendants, and the importance of considering where such imagery was displayed, noting that it frequently appeared in the private spaces, not public spaces, of the Imperial Palace and Edo Castle, and can also be found in paintings at temples that served as refuges for women leaving marriages such as Tenkyūin, and imperial convents such as Reikanji. Meanwhile, the Edo period that featured such division of the roles of men and women also saw the development of doll play and the Doll Festival that spread throughout society as an annual event for girls. It is noteworthy that this annual event was held not in a public place but rather in individual family homes. Miyazaki discusses in her essay the history of this annual event and ukiyo-e and other images depicting scenes of this ritual. One of the important facts clarified in her essay is the role of the family as consumer. The Doll Festival involves dolls and a range of utensils and items. During the latter part of the Edo period, as urban householders became wealthier, these Doll Festival goods became more and more lavish and beautiful, and this further increased a family’s passion for consumption. These Doll Festival dolls were not toys to be picked up and actually played with, but rather were items to be enjoyed as home decoration and prized possessions. Be that as it may, today the home is thought to be a living space that basically protects people from external reality and provides for safety and comfort. Naturally, the outside world cannot be completely shut out. For example, the powers of the day presented their images of desirable households through the medium of Dutch household books or Japan’s Onna daigaku, and thus were involved in the household formation of the people of their day. Further, in the case of war and other extreme situations, with the aim of marshalling support,

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the government could become all the more active in regulating households and families and making them more dependent. Painters often assisted such national intentions by painting images of soldiers and the machinery of war in order to heighten national sentiment. However, it is important to note that while not clearly connected to war, at first glance, perfectly ordinary household scenes and works showing children were actually offering examples of how proper people should act as the nation strives for victory. There are also images of the tragedies facing families when war breaks out. Thus, this book considers the relationship between images of family and children, and war. Li discusses the works depicting children, created in Taiwan during the war when it was under Japanese rule, and how they are shown singing songs and playing with toys. What at first appears to be the nonchalant depiction of innocent children is in fact a clear presentation of children as good imperial citizens and therefore could function as a kind of propaganda. Wakakuwa Midori’s well-known research on how women are depicted in times of war focuses primarily on examples of women’s magazines during wartime. Conversely, Li focuses on the works exhibited in the Taiwan Bijutsu Tenrankai (Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition, abbreviated in Japa­nese as Taiten or Futen), and clarifies the complex political and social situation under which the Taiwanese people were placed, and can thus be considered a development and continuation of Wakakuwa’s studies.76 Kim goes on to consider the Korean War (1950–1953) that resulted in many deaths, and invited the tragedy of fracturing family structures, and how this influenced Korean painters and their depictions of families. Kim also indicates the noteworthy fact that while these painters directly confronted the difficult facts of the absent masters of the households who could not fulfill their duty to take care of their families, conversely in their works they produced images of the pleasures of a happy home. The painters discussed by Kim, Jang Uk-jin, Lee Jung-sop, and Pak Soo-gun are not well known in Japan, but each produced individualistic, extremely fascinating works. Kim’s article is also important for its broadening of our knowledge about Korean art history, given our tendency to focus solely on Western and Japanese art. This book then is based on reading images of families, mothers and children and the home as seen in art, and approaches this overall topic from a variety of different aspects. These diverse essays consider pre-modern art from Japan and the West, and modern and contemporary art from Asia. Of course, there 76

Wakakuwa 2001.

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are massive numbers of art works extant, and the discussions presented here cannot begin to cover them all. However, at the very least this book will clearly offer a consideration of how the images of family, mother and child and home are closely related to the social situation, period, regional values and moral views of the time and place in which they were produced. As editor of the volume, it is my heartfelt hope that this collection of essays will provide great stimulus for further developments in the study of these subjects.

Chapter 2

Faith, Family and Politics in Lucas Cranach the Elder’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece* Hirakawa Kayo 2.1 Introduction The representation of the “intimate sphere,” such as husband and wife or parents and children, was relatively rare in pre-modern European art, but intriguingly developed in depictions of the most publicly recognized family, Christ and his family. The core of such imagery, without question, is the Madonna and Child that traces back to the sacred icons of the Eastern Church. In the fifteenth century in Northern Europe, Madonna and Child images absorbed the religious trends which recommended sympathy and compassion towards the object of the worship, and moved to depictions that emphasized the emotional interactions between mother and child (Fig. 2.1). By the sixteenth century, Madonna and Child paintings had established themselves as the most appropriate realm for self-aware painters to demonstrate their artistic talent. They achieved popularity amongst both aristocratic and wealthy townspeople classes as objects that showed their own faith and sophistication.1 Images of the Holy Family, namely the addition of including Mary’s husband Joseph to the Madonna and Child pair, though not as popular as Madonna and Child images, were also created and received as an item of devotion as well as a place for the depiction of intimate interaction between family members (Fig. 2.2). In addition, the theme of Anna Selbdritt, namely, the Madonna and Child with St. Anne, Mary’s mother, became widespread from the late fifteenth through early sixteenth centuries as the worship of St. Anne heightened (Fig. 2.3). Then, the Holy Kinship – consisting of the Holy Family joined by Mary’s parents, her half-sisters’ families and at times, Anne’s younger ­sister’s family – also gained favor along with the growth in worship of St. Anne, becoming a favored altarpiece subject matter for Northern Europe during this period. The most frequently represented “intimate sphere” in the pre-modern Western world, that is, images of Christ’s family and kinship, thus, reflect the * Translation from Japanese into English: Martha J. McClintock. 1 Regarding the development of the Madonna and Child image in 16th century Germany, see Hirakawa 1999. © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_003

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Figure 2.1 Dieric Bouts the Elder, Madonna and Child, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Figure 2.2 Martin Schongauer, Holy Family, late 1470s, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

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Figure 2.3 Albrecht Dürer, Madonna and Child with St. Anne (Anna Selbdritt), 1519, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Figure 2.4 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, the wings closed, 1509, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main.

religious trends of the period, the invention and ideas of painters, and the hopes and ideals that their contemporary audience conceived about the family. With these factors in mind, this chapter focuses on Lucas Cranach the Elder’s altarpiece The Holy Kinship (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5), as it traces the characteristics of

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Figure 2.5 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, the wings opened, 1509, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main.

Holy Kinship iconography, the details of altarpiece commissions and the identification of contemporary figures depicted in sacred guise. Through these processes this chapter seeks to consider saint worship immediately pre-Reformation, the feelings of intimate love for family, and desires for the prosperity of the family lineage as the corollary of such affection. These various elements, finally, reveal the political ambitions of a territorial ruler in a single painting. 2.2

An Overview of Cranach’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece

First, let us summarize the work and its composition. Cranach’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece is a triptych with winged side panels and is today in the Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main. It is 120 cm in height, the central panel is 100 cm wide, and the two wings are each approximately 45 cm wide. The panels are made of linden wood and the painting was carried out in a mixed oil technique.2 2 Lucas Cranach the Elder, The Holy Kinship Altarpiece, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main, inv. no. 1398, oil mixed technique on linden wood, 121.1  ×  100.4  cm (central panel), 120.5 × 45.2 cm (left panel), 120.7 × 45.4 cm (right panel). Dated to 1509 and inscribed “LVCAS CHRONVS/FACIEBAT/ANNO1509.” The following is the basic research on this work, Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, pp. 70–71, no. 18; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt am Main and London 2007–2008, pp. 154–158, no. 19; Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 204–225.

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The “weekday side,” or closed altarpiece shows full-figure images of the Madonna and Child and St. Anne worked in a monochrome or grisaille technique (Fig. 2.4). When the wings are open for the “Sunday side,” the central and side panels become a single large compositional area depicting the infant Jesus and his extended family (Fig. 2.5). The center of the composition shows a stone construct between beautifully mottled marble pillars. St. Anne, wearing a green skirt, red overgarment and white veil holds the infant Jesus on her lap. Next to the pair, Mary is shown wearing blue and holding out an apple towards Jesus. An old man naps on the side, representing Mary’s husband Joseph. In the background, three figures line up in a gallery. They are the husbands of St.  Anne. Anne’s first husband Joachim appears on the left side. The Holy Mother Mary was born from their union. The central figure of the three is Anne’s second husband, Cleopas. After Joachim’s death Anne married Cleopas and had another daughter, also named Mary. The figure on the right is Anne’s third husband Salome. Anne and Salome also had a daughter, and she too was called Mary. The Holy Mother Mary, born to Anne and her first husband Joachim, occupies a special place, with the Infant Jesus, in the center of the composition. The daughter born to her second husband, Cleopas, was known as Mary Cleopas, who later married Alpheus, and bore four sons. The left wing panel shows Mary Cleopas, her husband Alpheus and two young sons, while the central panel left foreground shows two full-grown sons. Mary Salome, born to Anne and her third husband Salome, married Zebedee and had two sons. The family of Mary Salome is seen on the right wing panel.3 Thus, in addition to St. Anne and her three husbands, this altarpiece also depicts the three daughters born to St. Anne plus their families. In other words, in addition to Christ’s parents and grandparents, the altarpiece depicts his aunts, uncles and cousins. Here a total of seventeen figures of three generations are shown, and clearly Cranach went to special efforts to facilitate a rapid identification of the mutual relationships between these many figures. For example, the connection between Anne’s three husbands and their respective daughters can be seen in the colors they wear. Thus, Joachim and the Holy Mother both wear yellow and blue costumes, while Cleopas and his daughter Mary Cleopas both wear scarlet garments, while Salome and his daughter Mary Salome both wear gold ground fabric with black designs. Further, the three husbands are arranged left to right in marriage order, while Joachim’s turning to gaze at the center connects him with the Holy Mother. The families of the daughters born to the other two husbands are arranged with Cleopas’ daughter’s family on the left wing and Mary Salome’s family on the right wing. Thus 3 See section 3 for a detailed discussion of the Holy Kinship iconography.

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placement clarifies relationships. The two youths in the foreground of the central panel are similarly suggested to be the two grown children of Mary Cleopas by virtue of the fact that they walk facing to the left. The grid on the floor carefully maintains the depth recession in the space, all while encompassing the multi-figural composition and spreading to the beautiful scenery on the left and right of the central imagery. The small panel hanging from the right marble pillar on the central panel is inscribed “LVCAS/CHRONVS/FACIEBAT/ANNO1509,” literally, “Lucas Cranach has been making in 1509.” The stylistic character of this work clearly shows that of Lucas Cranach the Elder around 1509. Information about its donor can be also drawn from the altarpiece itself. The relief decoration on the balustrade around St. Anne’s three husbands shows putti and six chain-enclosed shields. The devices in the shields are, reading from the left, an eagle, crossed swords, decorative band with clovers before horizontal stripes, lion, another eagle, and then a lion. These are all motifs derived from the coat of arms of the Saxon Duke and that of the Saxon Elector.4 On the other hand, the face of Alpheus, husband of Mary Cleopas seen on the left panel is that of Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, while the husband of Mary Salome, reading on the right panel, is a depiction of the face of John the Steadfast, Frederick’s younger brother and political ally, who would inherit the title of elector after Frederick’s death in 1525.5 From these factors we can see that the painting was commissioned from Lucas Cranach by the Saxon Elector of the day, Frederick the Wise, and his brother John the Steadfast. In 1472, Lucas Cranach the Elder was born in the small Franconian town of Kronach. In 1504, after spending several years working in Vienna, he was appointed as a court painter by Frederick the Wise, and was in residence in Wittenberg, the central town of the Electorate of Saxony. For approximately fifty years until his death at age 81 in 1553, Cranach served under three generations of electors, namely Frederick the Wise, John the Steadfast, and John Frederick the Magnanimous. The Holy Kinship Altarpiece is a large-scale work from his earliest period as a court artist. The Städel Museum bought this work in 1906 at a Paris auction, and other than the fact that it spent a long time in the southern Spanish town of Cadiz, its earlier provenance is not known.6 However, given the work’s quality and size, the high toned inscription written in Latin, 4 Swarzenski 1907, pp. 56–57; Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, p. 209. 5 Swarzenski 1907, p. 56. About changes in the identification of the sitters in the portraits of Alpheus and Zebedee, see Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, p. 216. 6 Swarzenski 1907, p. 63; Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, p. 71; Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, p. 216.

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and the fact that not only the coat of arms but also the Elector himself with his brother appear in the work, it can be surmised that this altarpiece originally would have been dedicated to a high-ranking church within the Saxon domain. The above is an overview of Cranach’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece. This chapter addresses the question of why this altarpiece was painted, and first confirms how the iconography of the Holy Kinship was formulated and distributed over time. 2.3

The Holy Kinship Trend in 15th–16th Centuries Northern Europe

Glancing through the New Testament shows the occasional mention of “Christ’s brothers.” For example, Mark 3 includes the following passage: Then Jesus’ mother and brothers arrived. Standing outside, they sent someone in to call him. A crowd was sitting around him, and they told him, “Your mother and brothers are outside looking for you.” “Who are my mother and my brothers?” he asked. Then he looked at those seated in a circle around him and said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother.” Mark 3:31–357

Here Jesus compares anyone with a deep faith to a brother or sister, while at­ the same time it is a clear statement acknowledging the existence of Christ’s brothers.8 Further, in Mark 6, the people of Nazareth said the following to Jesus. And when the Sabbath day was come, he began to teach in the synagogue: and many hearing him were astonished, saying, From whence hath this man these things? And what wisdom is this which is given unto him, that even such mighty works are wrought by his hands? Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary, the brother of James, and Joseph, and of Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us? And they were offended at him. Mark 6:2–3

7 Texts from the Bible taken from, New International Version: http://www.biblegate way.com/. 8 Similar comments can be found in Matthew 12:46–50 and Luke 8:19–21.

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In this passage, Jesus’ brothers are identified as James, Joseph, Judas and Simon.9 Further, there is a sentence at Galatians 1:19 mentioning “James the Lord’s brother.”10 And yet, these Biblical texts are a conundrum, given that the Holy Mother, through God’s intervention, had Jesus in a virgin birth and maintained that purity throughout the rest of her life. Based on debate from the early Christian period, Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend has widely interpreted “brothers” to mean “cousins.” Then, including other mentions such as “Mary the mother of James the less and of Joseph, and Salome” (Mark 15:40), it explains their lineage and Christ’s relations as the follows: Joachim spoused Anne, who had a sister named Hismeria, and Hismeria had two daughters [sic, correctly, children], named Elizabeth and Eliud. Elizabeth was mother to John Baptist, and Eliud engendered Eminen. And of Eminen came S. Servatius, whose body lieth in Maestricht, upon the river of the Meuse, in the bishopric of Liège. And Anne had three husbands, Joachim, Cleophas, and Salome; and of the first she had a daughter named Mary, the Mother of God, the which was given to Joseph in marriage, and she childed our Lord Jesu Christ. And when Joachim was dead, she took Cleophas, the brother of Joseph, and had by him another daughter named Mary also, and she was married to Alpheus. And Alpheus her husband had by her four sons, that was James the Less, Joseph the Just, otherwise named Barsabee, Simon, and Jude. Then the second husband being dead, Anne married the third named Salome, and had by him another daughter which yet also was called Mary, and she was married to Zebedee. And this Mary had of Zebedee two sons, that is to wit, James the More, and John the Evangelist.11 In other words, St. Anne married three times and each of those marriages produced a daughter named Mary. These three Mary’s had children. In addition to Jesus, there were James the Lesser, Joseph the Just, Simon, then Jude known as Jude Thaddaeus (different from Christ’s betrayer Judas Iscariot). Further, there were James the Greater and his brother John the Evangelist. Moreover, St. Anne’s sister Hismeria (or Esmeria) was the mother of Elizabeth who was 9 10 11

Similar comments can be found in Matthew 13:54–56. Letter to the Galatians 1:19. Regarding comments on “Christ’s brothers” in the New Testament, see Sheingorn 1989, pp. 268–270; Wallert et al. 2001, p. 9. “The Nativity of Our Lady” in De Voragine 1275/1900, vol. 5, pp. 47–53.

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the mother of St. John the Baptist, and the great-grandmother of St. Servatius through another son.12 Now let us return to Cranach’s Holy Kinship Altarpiece. The adorable ­children in the foreground are thus the infant forms of the Apostles. The slight halos behind their heads indicate their sanctity. Of the two sons of Mary Salome, the well-behaved one who is being gently groomed by his mother on her lap is James the Greater, while the childish one who is trying to flee from the comb is John the Evangelist, one of the younger Apostles. Among the four sons of Mary Cleopas, the two youths seen in the foreground are thus Simon and Jude Thaddaeus who also set out on evangelical work together, while the youth reading a book is James the Lesser, who is actually older than James the Greater. The fourth child, suckling on the left, is Joseph the Just.13 In terms of the interest in Christ’s blood lineage, the Holy Kinship is iconographically similar to the “Jesse Tree.” Based on Isaiah 11:1–2 “A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him” and the diagram of Jesus’ lineage in Matthew 1:1–17, the Jesse Tree explains Jesus’ familial relations from the paternal side, namely, from Abraham to Isaac, then to Jesse and his son David, and to Mary’s husband Joseph and Jesus. For example, a painting attributed to Jan Mostaert shows Jesse lying on his side, a tree rising from his loins. The branches of that tree bear the figures of King David playing a lyre, plus the other patriarchs of Jesus’ lineage. The top of the tree is crowned with the Mother and Child (Fig. 2.6).14 Though the Holy Kinship and the Jesse Tree are both iconographies that show Christ’s blood relationships, they were given quite different visual forms. The Tree of Jesse, following Isaiah, remained an abstract depiction of Christ’s ancestors adorning the branches of the tree that emerged from Jesse. 12 13

14

Regarding early Christian to pre-modern period debate on Christ’s relatives and St. Anne’s three marriages, see Wallert et al. 2001, pp. 7–10; Esser 1986, pp. 15–24; Nixon 2004, pp. 11–20. “Judas preached first in Mesopotamia and in Pontus, and Simon preached in Egypt, and from thence came they into Persia,…” (“The Lives of SS. Simon and Jude” in De Voragine 1275/1900, vol. 6, pp. 35–38); “James the apostle is said the Less, how well that he was elder of age than was S. James the More, because like as is in religion he that entered first is called aine and great, and he that cometh after shall be called less, though he be the older, and in this wise was this S. James called the less.” (“The Life of S. James the Lesser” in De Voragine 1275/1900, vol. 3, pp. 73–77). Bodo Brinkmann favors the iconographic tradition that shows Joseph the Just with books, names the youth reading a book as Joseph and the boy drinking milk as Jacob the Lesser. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, p. 216. About this work, see Cat. Amsterdam 2000, pp. 72–74, no. 14. Regarding the Tree of Jesse, see Kirschbaum et al. 1968–1976, pp. 550–558.

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Figure 2.6 Attributed to Jan Mostaert, Tree of Jesse, ca. 1500, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Conversely, with the exception of early period examples, there are very few works of the Holy Kinship shown in genealogical tree format (Fig. 2.7). By the fourteenth century, examples appeared which show St. Anne and the Madonna and Child in a central position with women and children arranged in the foreground, and their male connections in the background.15 And then, in a panel painted in the Rhineland at the beginning of the fifteenth century (Fig. 2.8), the mothers and children who form the main flow of Christ’s sacred lineage and the husbands are still separated by an enclosure reminiscent of the “hortus con­ clusus.” The family members are, however, all engaged in close ­conversation, 15

Regarding the iconography of the Holy Kinship from the Early Christian era to the Middle Age, see Esser 1986, pp. 55–71; Nixon 2004, pp. 133–144; Sheingorn 1989, pp. 271–272. Pamela Sheingorn states that the Tree of Jesse traces Jesus’s family tree male lineage from Jesse through Joseph to Jesus, while the Holy Kinship is the female lineage from Anne through Mary to Jesus. The development of the Holy Kinship iconography in the late medieval period reflects the expansion of the female line in actual society at the time. Sheingorn 1989, passim. However, I think that the diverse representation of the Holy Kinship theme from the late 15th century to the early 16th century stems from the familiarity the theme gained as an image, the rise of the St. Anne cult, and above all, the basic trend in Christianity to further emphasize the connection between Jesus and Mary over that of Jesus and Joseph.

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Figure 2.7 Master W with the Key, Holy Kinship, latter half of 15th century.

Figure 2.8 Elder Master of the Holy Kinship, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, central panel, early 15th century, Wallraf-Richartz Museum, Cologne.

resting their hands on each other’s shoulders in an expression of familial intimacy. In this panel, there is plenty of scope for seeing this group as an enactment of an actual family. Thus, the Holy Kinship iconography gained easy familiarity from the fourteenth century onward. In addition to this familiarity as images, the cult of St. Anne, the matriarch of this large, holy family, spurred the popularity of these images in Northern Europe. One of the reasons for the heightened

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worship of St. Anne in the mid fifteenth century was the active movement to promote the Immaculate Conception of Mary. As is well-known, the Immaculate Conception of Mary is a doctrine that not only did Mary, intact virgin, give birth to Jesus, but Mary herself was conceived in Anne’s womb without at any time being stained by “original sin.” The “original sin,” which visited upon mankind because Adam and Eve broke their covenant with God, was thought to be handed down to descendants through the “lust for the flesh.” The emphasis on the Immaculate Conception of Mary meant that God’s miracle placed Mary in Anne’s womb, thus making St. Anne as sacred and blessed as Mary herself. From the 1470s to the 1480s, Pope Sixtus IV proclaimed three Papal bulls encouraging the Immaculate Conception and the worship of St. Anne. During this period the Immaculate Conception of Mary was promoted in association with the worship of St. Anne, the “vessel of the Immaculate Conception of the Madonna.”16 In addition, according to the detailed research of Virginia Nixon, the worshippers of St. Anne included some who refuted the Immaculate Conception of the Madonna. In fact, the cult of St. Anne, like that of the Rosary and of the Seven Sorrows of Mary, was mainly promoted by the reformative clergy in the Netherlands and Rhineland area, who aimed to satisfy and control the religious needs of the laity in the late medieval to early pre-modern era.17 While the cult of the Rosary, which made private devotion easy through the use of the rosary and prayers, had permeated all of society, even to the poorest classes, St. Anne worship was primarily a subject for the wealthier urban classes.18 Though unrelated to such excessive acts as ascetic practice in the wilderness or dramatic conversion or martyrdom, St. Anne, who is described as a wealthy citizen in the Book of James and the above mentioned Golden Legend, was chosen as the sacred mother of the Madonna because of her piety, and established the holy, glorious family through her three marriages. In these terms, St. Anne was an ideal of the urban middle and upper classes and an appropriate moral model, especially for married women. The lives of this saint published at that time often described her as a modest and retiring wife of the urban upper class who, a stay-at-home, avoided occasions for foolish 16 17 18

Wallert et al. 2001, pp. 7–10. Nixon 2004, pp. 67–79. For example, some versions of the Legend of St. Anne written during this period tell numerous narratives about upper and middle class people who had lost all of their wealth having their riches returned to them after they worshipped St. Anne. Further, St. Anne and St. Joachim themselves are described as a wealthy urban couple. Nixon 2004, pp. 68–69. Anne and Joachim also appear as wealthy citizens in the Books of James as well as in the above-mentioned Golden Legend.

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behavior.19 On the other hand, the Holy Kinship, begun by St. Anne, also fully attracted the attention of the urban classes whose livelihood was based on handicrafts and commerce, and who recognized the importance of the family as an economic and social unit and the networking value of relatives. The dazzling Holy Kinship, both in terms of numbers and holiness, was a subject matter that appealed to the sumptuous tastes of the wealthy classes. The theme of Holy Kinship centered on St. Anne was often chosen for altarpieces by St. Anne’s confraternities established in various cities.20 A significant example can be found in Frankfurt am Main, the prominent commercial city of Germany. Frankfurt, in 1481 and thus ahead of other cities, established the St. Anne’s Confraternity under the direction of Rumold von Laupach, the abbot of the Carmelite Monastery. This confraternity was open to women and people born outside of Frankfurt, and since a large number of wealthy townspeople lived in the area around the Carmelite Monastery, the group numbered more than 4000 members. In 1496, the Chapel of St. Anne was constructed at the monastery, and a winged altarpiece with wooden sculpture of the Holy Kinship in the central shrine was placed at the altar.21 At the same time, the Dominican Monastery also built an altar dedicated to St. Anne and other saints in front of the nave pillar of the monastery church. In 1505, a triptych with a Holy Kinship picture as a central panel was set up at the altar.22 These two altarpieces erected one after the other in less than ten years, were both created in the Netherlands. Specifically, the Dominican Church altarpiece (Fig.  2.9) was painted in the latest style from Antwerp, the new economic and cultural center of the Netherlands. The central panel shows St. Anne, the Christ Child and the Madonna seated on a wide throne, their intimate connection indicated by their gestures. This is a splendid rendition of the central figures, 19

20

21

22

Christianity has a trend to link sanctity to virginity and often regards St. Anne’s three marriages as problematic and harming her sanctity. To this criticism, those who supported St. Anne’s Trinubium emphasized that she remarried in order to adhere to the law and for the benefit of her descendants. Regarding the debate surrounding St. Anne’s Trinubium and St. Anne as the model for married women, see Nixon 2004, pp. 70–76. Regarding the spread of worship of St. Anne and the Holy Kinship in northern European cities, and their relationship to the urban wealthy class, see Nixon 2004, pp. 81–98; Esser 1986, pp. 32–39; Wallert et al. 2001, pp. 9–10; Krohm 2006, pp. 374–378. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 1996, cat. no. 45. The wooden sculpture in the central shrine is missing, and today only the wings remain in the Historisches Museum in Frankfurt am Main. About the confraternity of St. Anne in Frankfurt, see Dörfler-Dierken 1992, pp. 88–93. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 1996, cat. no. 51; Friedlander 1967–1976, vol. 7, p. 76, no. 129, pls. 100–101.

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Figure 2.9 Master of Frankfurt, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, central panel, 1505, Historisches Museum, Frankfurt am Main.

borrowing the standard forms used in the single image of Anna Selbdritt.23 The three husbands of St. Anne are seen behind the throne along with Mary’s husband Joseph, with Mary Cleopas and her family shown on the left, while the family of Mary Salome can be seen on the right. The background left shows Elizabeth, daughter of Hismeria, younger sister of Anne, holding St. John the Baptist and accompanied by her husband Zacharias, while on the right, the grandchild of Hismeria, Eminen is shown accompanied by his wife and child, Servatius. In this painting we see the glorious holy clan with gorgeous garments, elegant atmosphere and surrounded by the many children who promise its prosperity in the future. Such depictions might easily correspond to the ideal image of 23

According to Nixon, the depiction of Anna Selbdritt in paintings and sculptures during the latter half of the 15th to 16th centuries can be largely divided into two types. As seen in the Master of Frankfurt and Lucas Cranach works (Figs. 2.5, 2.9, and 2.12), one type shows St. Anne and the Madonna seated next to each other, while the other type shows St. Anne and the Madonna and Child vertically arranged, or St. Anne with the Madonna and Child on her laps, as depicted in the print of the Master W with the Key (Fig. 2.7). Nixon 2004, pp. 133–164.

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family conceived by the upper class townspeople in Frankfurt who were informed and sophisticated enough to appreciate the latest style from the Netherlands. 2.4

The Political Intentions of the Saxon Elector as Seen in The Holy Kinship Altarpiece

With our understanding of the development of the Holy Kinship images confirmed in the previous section, let us now return to Cranach’s altarpiece (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5). In the central panel, the Madonna and St. Anne are seated next to each other, St. Anne with Christ on her lap, and Mary holding out an apple to Him. The three husbands of St. Anne quietly talk amongst themselves to show heartfelt communication, with the positioning of the women and children in front and the men in the background. All reveal that Cranach’s figural arrangement is based on the typical composition of the Holy Kinship of the day. The elements that attract attention are Mary Salome combing James the Greater’s hair and Jude Thaddaeus walking with the apple pulled in a simple cart behind him, acts reminiscent of the everyday life of Cranach’s contemporaries. The Hasenwagen, a simple construct of willow branches, being pulled by Jude Thaddaeus, was a common toy for German children up until the beginning of the twentieth century.24 Further, the figures of the mothers combing their children’s hair indicate an important role of mothers in their children’s lives and would appear frequently some 200 years later in seventeenth century Dutch genre painting (Fig. 2.10). In addition to this altarpiece, by the beginning of the sixteenth century, images of the Holy Kinship show youths playing with windmills and dogs (Fig. 2.11), and fathers teaching their children how to read and write while holding whips made of bundled small branches (Fig. 2.12). Thus there is a scattered display of genre scenes rarely found in this period’s works. By introducing these genre elements, the painters successfully conveyed the familial intimacy inherent in the Holy Kinship theme to the viewers. Just prior to the establishment of independent genre paintings in the ­seventeenth century, there were few opportunities for artists to depict scenes of children’s play or discipline. The Holy Kinship subject matter played an important role in the development of genre representation in Western art. Then, what was the impetus for Frederick the Wise and his brother John to order this altarpiece from Cranach? Georg Swarzenski linked the commission to some private event within the Elector’s family. In 1503, John’s wife Sophie von Mecklenburg died shortly after giving birth to John Frederick. In memory 24

Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, p. 222.

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Figure 2.10 Gerard ter Borch, Mother Combing the Hair of her Child, 1650s, Mauritshuis, The Hague.

Figure 2.11 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, detail, 1510s, National Gallery of Art, Samuel H. Kress Collection, Washington.

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Figure 2.12 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Holy Kinship, first half of the 1510s, Paintings Gallery of the Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna.

of this event, in 1505, Frederick and John erected an altar in St. Mary’s Church in Torgau and dedicated it to St. Anne and Fourteen Holy Helpers. Swarzenski surmises that Cranach’s Holy Kinship was commissioned for this altar. According to Swarzenski, the grisaille image of St. Anne on the outer panel of the altarpiece is a portrait of the deceased wife Sophie, and the youth St. Simon (Fig. 2.13) depicted in the foreground of the central panel has the face of the child John Frederick. The face of Zebedee, representing John, has a somewhat introspective look as he mourns his dead wife. In addition, Swarzenski believes that the Fourteen Holy Helpers by the Cranach workshop today extant in the church is the predella for this altarpiece, while the main body of the altarpiece was plundered and taken to Spain by the Holy Roman Empire’s army during the Schmalkaldic War.25 Indeed, the subject of the Holy Kinship is by nature closely linked to prayers regarding the family. In fact, Cranach created a Holy Kinship work several years after this altarpiece (Fig. 2.12). Eberhard Schenk zu Schweinsberg s­ uggests that the figure of Alpheus in the left of the composition is a self-­portrait of the 25

Swarzenski 1907, pp. 59–63. Swarzenski’s argument is based on the fact that both the altarpiece and predella are created from linden wood, the predella is 18 cm wider than that of the central panel, appropriate for a predella work (the predella measures 84.5 × 127.5 cm. Friedländer and J. Rosenberg 1932/1979, pp. 69–70, no. 16), and St. Anne was often depicted with Fourteen Holy Helpers at that time. About the debates surrounding Swarzenski’s reconstruction, see Cat, Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 218–219, 222. Given the differences in forms and the quality of depiction, this author is skeptical about this reconstruction.

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Figure 2.13

Detail of Fig. 2.5.

a­ rtist, and his wife Mary Cleopas is a portrait of the painter’s wife Barbara Brengbier, while the Zebedee couple are her parents, and the images of a handshake at the upper corners can be interpreted as allegories of sincerity. All of these factors would suggest the possibility that this work was painted to commemorate his own marriage.26 This panel painting was created around 1512 when Cranach married to Barbara, daughter of Jobst Brengbier, mayor of Gotha. A comparison with other works of this subject clearly shows the emphasis made on the depiction of the families of Alpheus and Zebedee, and the strong portrait-like nature of both couples. Given all these points, Schenk zu Schweinsberg’s surmise that this work was created as a prayer for the bond and prosperity of a family through marriage is appropriate. Various conflicting arguments have arisen, however, in response to Swarzenski’s hypothesis. First, on the Schmalkaldic War, the armies of Duke Maurice of Saxony who had deserted to the imperial armies occupied Torgau, 26

Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, pp. 75–76, no. 34. Regarding the identification of the portraits in this work, Renate Trnek considers the Mary of Salome, who is clearly depicted as a married woman, as Barbara Brengbier and Mary Cleopa as her wet-nurse. Cat. Vienna 1997, pp. 64–66. In the 16th and 17th centuries, the “handshake” was often regarded as a metaphor for “cooperation,” “harmony” and “friendship.” See Henkel and Schöne 1967/1996, col. 1013–1018.

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Figure 2.14

Detail of Fig. 2.5.

and there were no acts of pillage by the Holy Roman troops in the city. This refutes the idea that the altarpiece came from Torgau.27 Another refutation is based on the fact that there is no other contemporary altarpiece example which depicts not only the dead wife and the surviving child, but also the husband mourning his deceased wife.28 Further, St. Anne’s second husband Cleopas, shown with an individualistic hawk nose and uniquely shaped jaw, is clearly a portrait of Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I (Figs. 2.14 and 2.15). Based on these facts, recent research tends to interpret this work in a political context. Some religious facts, such as Frederick the Wise obtaining relics of St.  Anne on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land or the heightened worship of St. Anne in his domain, are pointed out as the impetus for the creation of this altarpiece.29 Such elements may have influenced to a degree the sub­ ject selection for the altarpiece. They did not define, however, the depictive mode. We  have other altarpieces where the two Elector brothers appear as donor ­figures,30 but there is no other example in which the two men appear 27 28 29 30

Ritschel 1996, pp. 7–15, 19–20. Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, p. 71. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 220–221. See also the following about St. Anne worship in Saxony, Nixon 2004, pp. 92–98. For example, Cranach’s Madonna and Child Altarpiece (Dessau Art Museum, Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, p. 72, no. 20) and the fragment of an altarpiece in the Coburg Castle collection (Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, pp. 82–83, no. 64B).

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Figure 2.15 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I, 1505, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

accompanied by Maximilian I. All these factors considered, Maximilian’s presence in this work cannot be overlooked in an interpretation of its meaning. Iris Ristchel has noticed the political connection between the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I and the Saxon Elector Frederick the Wise around 1500. After ascending to the Holy Roman Emperor title, Maximilian made good use of Frederick the Wise, a powerful territorial lord in the empire and an upright man, and Frederick firmly supported Maximilian. However, cracks began to appear in this mutually beneficial relationship around 1500 when Maximilian sought to strengthen his imperial powers and Frederick protected his own territorial rights. In 1508 Maximilian accused Frederick of treason, and the conflict between them reached a bad state just about the time that this altarpiece was being produced. In 1511, they finally worked out their differences. Ritschel supposes that, reflecting this political situation, Frederick had Maximilian placed in the central panel of this altarpiece, and thus expressed his fidelity to Maximilian as his father-in-law, while conversely, he surrounded the emperor with devices of the Saxon Electorate, and had himself and his brother John represented in more splendid fashion than the emperor. Ritschel’s interpretation suggests that these pictorial inventions in this altarpiece demonstrate the equality and mutual reliance between the Emperor and the Saxon Elector.31 31

Ritschel 1996, pp. 15–19.

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Bodo Brinkmann accepted this theory and stated that Frederick and Maximilian acted out the functions of in-laws according to the tradition at the Burgundian court that constructed pseudo-family relationships between a sovereign and his vassals.32 Following this interpretation, we can see the dog with brown fur in the foreground as a symbol of “fidelity” in terms of faith as well as politics.33 On the other hand, Salome, Anne’s third husband, who also has a distinctive face, is surmised to be a key person for the reconciliation between Maximilian and Frederick, but cannot yet be identified.34 Thus the interpretation of this painting has swayed greatly between the personal realm of a memorial to a deceased wife to the public realm of a political statement. Working from Ritschel’s political interpretation, I should give consideration to a private characteristic of this work intuitively grasped by Swarzenski. Indeed, the face of the St. Anne figure in grisaille on the altarpiece exterior is a general and typical one, and we cannot see it as a portrait of a specific individual. However, then we might ask, what about young Simon (Fig.  2.13). Comparisons with a portrait (Fig.  2.16) of John Frederick painted the same year reveal the large round eyes, thick lips and sturdy jaw, along with other points of resemblance. In addition, of the seven children depicted on the altarpiece, Simon is the only one wearing contemporary clothing, namely a white, broad-sleeved blouse with an overgarment with square neckline. The four adult portrait-like saints, namely, Alpheus, Cleopas, Salome and Zebedee, are all depicted in contemporary clothing, while Joachim, Joseph, the Madonna and St. Anne are all wearing highly abstracted garments.35 32

33 34

35

Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 223–224. Further, Fiona Healy states that the chain around the Maximilian bust portrait and the chain around the crests of the Elector’s family are the same type, and they can be interpreted as mutual trust and mutual faith. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 219–220. As is well known, the dog is both symbol of “faithfulness” and of “deceit” and “scent,” amongst other interpretations. Dittrich and Dittrich 2004, pp. 226–245. Based on extant portraits, the court official Sixtus Oelhafen and the court curate Wolfgang van Maen are named as candidates for this image. Swarzenski 1907, pp. 57–59; Friedländer and Rosenberg 1932/1979, p. 71; Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 218, 211–223, figs. 184, 185. Unfortunately, the indicated works do not closely resemble the Salome in the altarpiece. As in the case of St. Anne, there are many arguments against the identification of St.  Simon as John Frederick. For example, Brinkmann states that a comparison of the St. Simon on the altarpiece and the Portrait of John Frederick (Fig. 2.16) shows that the image of Simon was short and squat. Both in terms of their actual blood relationship and the lack of resemblance in painted form, he denies that there is portrait imagery of either Sophie or John Frederick. According to Brinkmann, the sumptuous robes of St. Simon

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Figure 2.16 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Johann Friedrich Witten (John Frederick the Magnanimous, Elector of Saxony), 1509, National Gallery, London.

From the standpoint of interpreting this altarpiece within a political context, the presence of a child’s portrait, what appears at first glance a personal element, in the midst of an otherwise public space may create a strong sense of disharmony. However, for the lineage of a lord like the Saxon Elector, children were not simply the objects of affection within a personal realm. Children, specifically legitimate sons, are a public existence that preserves the continuance of a family and the domain they rule. When this work was created in 1509, regardless of long years of negotiations, Frederick the Wise had not yet obtained a profitable marriage partner, and further, his brother John had lost his wife Sophie and then did not remarry. In spite of the fact that at that time Frederick was in negotiations for marriage to Mary, daughter of Wilhelm III, Duke of Jülich-Berg, John’s only legitimate child John Frederick was at that point the sole heir to the Saxon Electorate. Thus, in terms of family continuity, and indeed the stability of the territory, this child was an extremely important presence.36 In 1508, Frederick and John proclaimed John Frederick as the

36

derive from the fact that he is the patron saint of textile and leather workers. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 214–215, 222–223. In addition, marriage negotiations were held between Frederick the Wise and Anna, the daughter of Brandenburg Elector John Cicero and Margaret, daughter of Maximilian I, Elizabeth, princess of Poland and others. In the end, none of these negotiations were successful. See the following regarding Frederick’s marriage issues. Koepplin 1974, p. 33, n. 43; Ludolphy 1984/2006, pp. 54–58.

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Figure 2.17 Lucas Cranach the Elder, Johann Friedrich Witten on a Pony, 1506.

future ruler of the Saxon Electorate, and they entrusted his education to the talented humanist, Georg Spalatin.37 In 1506, Cranach produced a woodcut print of the figure of John Frederick riding a pony and backed by Coburg Castle, the coat of arms of the Saxon Electorate and that of the Duchy of Saxony (Fig.  2.17). From the Roman Empire era onward, the equestrian portrait has been utilized to visualize the military power of the ruler, and was rarely found in portraits of children. In addition, the previously mentioned portrait of John Frederick (Fig.  2.16) is one of the earliest examples of a portrait of a child. Further, it forms a diptych with his father’s portrait in place of his deceased mother’s.38 This too was a rare example at the time, and these works clearly show the importance of this child for the Saxon Elector’s family. Thus while still a child, John Frederick already had an established public identity, and hence, the juxtaposition of an image of John Frederick, already the subject of prints and portraits by the court painter Cranach, with images of his father, 37 38

Koepplin 1974, pp. 26. 29. In terms of portraits of princes and princesses, there are earlier examples from the Hapsburg family. Cranach himself, while in the Netherlands in 1508, painted a portrait of the 8 year-old prince Charles, who would become the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. Koepplin 1974, passim. To the degree known by the author, Cranach’s woodcut is the first example of a horseback portrait of a child.

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uncle and the Saxon Electorate’s most important political partner Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I, was by no means strange. Since we acknowledge that the image of the young Simon is in fact a portrait of John Frederick, then we must revise our interpretation of the altarpiece. Surely, the altarpiece declares the strong connection between the Elector of Saxony and the Holy Roman Emperor. First of all, however, the iconography of the Holy Kinship is selected as the subject for the altarpiece, and the Elector Frederick, his brother John and their sole legitimate heir John Frederick, together with Maximilian I, disguise themselves as members of the holy lineage. This pictorial invention suggests that prayers for the prosperity of the family lineage and the glorification of the family through their projection onto the holy clan are involved in the commission of the altarpiece. A bit later, there appeared intriguing works that use the Holy Kinship theme to glorify a family, and these were scattered amongst the close vassals of Maximilian I. For example, a panel painting by Strigel in the Vienna Kunsthistorisches Museum, shows Maximilian I with his first wife Mary of Burgundy, his son Philip the Fair and Philip’s two sons Charles and Ferdinand, plus Prince Louis, son of King Ladislaus II of Hungary and Bohemia (Fig. 2.18).39 Ferdinand and Louis are wearing floral coronets, and thus it can

Figure 2.18 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian and His Family, ca. 1516, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. 39

Spruce wood (Fichtenholz), 72.8 × 60.4 cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, inv. no. 832. Cat. Vienna 1991, p. 117, pl. 571.

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be understood that this work commemorated the double wedding of Louis’ sister Anna to Ferdinand and Louis to Ferdinand’s sister Mary in 1515–1516. Gold lettering is used to label each of the portraits, with Maximilian named “Cleopas,” Mary of Burgundy labeled “Mary Cleopas,” and Philip as “James the Lesser,” while Ferdinand was labeled “Simon,” and Charles, “Joseph the Just.” The verso of this family portrait is painted with images of the Holy Family joined by Anne, Joachim, John the Baptist, Elizabeth, her husband Zacharias, and Anne’s younger sister Hismeria and her husband (Fig. 2.19).40 Further, this work was hinged in a diptych with a portrait of the family of Johannes Cuspinian, a trusted retainer of Maximilian (Fig. 2.20). Johannes, his wife, and their two sons were respectively labeled with the names of Mary Salome’s family. Cuspinian was a humanist active in Vienna, and was greatly trusted by Maximilian. He was crowned as poet laureate in 1493, and then later was appointed as an imperial councilor. Cuspinian also played a major role in the negotiation of the wedding contracts with the royal family of HungaryBohemia. The inscription on the verso of the family portrait of Cuspinian ­indicates that this work was painted by Strigel in 1520. Maximilian I died on January 12, 1519. So, the production process of this diptych can be supposed as follows: At some point between 1515/16 and 1520, the imperial family portrait

Figure 2.19 Bernhard Strigel, Holy Family, Anne, Joachim, John the Baptist, Elizabeth and Zacariah, Hismeria and Ephraim, 1520, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

40

Spruce wood (Fichtenholz), 72.5 × 60 cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, inv. no. 6411. This work was split into two panels in 1919. Cat. Vienna 1991, p. 117, pl. 571.

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Figure 2.20 Bernhard Strigel, Johannes Cuspinian and His Family, 1520, private collection.

was presented to Cuspinian, who had contributed to the Hapsburg-Jagiello double weddings. After the emperor’s death, Cuspinian had the Holy Family with other saints painted on the reverse of the imperial family portrait by Strigel, and combined it in a diptych with the portrait of his own family ordered from the same painter.41 By means of adroit marriage politics, Maximilian successfully brought the Netherlands, Spain, and then finally Hungary and Bohemia under the dominion of the Hapsburg family. It would be quite natural that Cuspinian wanted to glorify the achievement of the deceased Emperor, to visualize the bonds between the emperor and himself and to pray for his own family to obtain the same prosperity achieved by the imperial family. The theme of the Holy Kinship which symbolizes fecundity and prosperity, and clarifies the bonds of the holy lineage is suitable for this purpose.42 41 42

About the production process of this diptych, there is another theory that this diptych was painted at one time in 1520. See Thümmel 1980, pp. 97–103. However, in this diptych, following the arguments against St. Anne’s three marriages in the 1510s, Joachim was declared her only husband, “unicus maritus annae,” and Maximilian dressed as Cleopas, was labeled “frater carnelis iosephi.” In other words, Cleopas was not Anne’s husband, but rather a brother of the Holy Mother Mary’s husband Joseph, and thus Anne’s remarriage was denied and the familial relationships maintained. This is a rare work based on a new interpretation of the Holy Kinship. Thümmel 1980, pp. 105–108.

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Further, Jan van Scorel made a Holy Kinship Altarpiece in 1519 while he stayed in Carinthia, and today it is in the St. Martin’s Church in Obervellach.43 St. Joseph, wearing a distinctive hat reminiscent of the uniform of the Knights of the Golden Fleece, with a hawk nose, is clearly intended to be an image of Maximilian (Figs. 2.21 and 2.22). The coat of arms of Count Christoph Frangepani,

Figure 2.21

Jan van Scorel, Holy Kinship Altarpiece, 1519, St. Martin’s Church, Obervellach.

Figure 2.22 Simon Bening, Maximilian I in the Costume of Knights of Golden Fleece, Royal Library of Belgium, Brussels.

43

Pine wood (pinus nigra austriaca), 142  ×  144.5  cm (central panel), 141  ×  61.5  cm (each wing), dated 1520 and signed on a stone in the right foreground of the central panel. Infrared reflectography taken in the 1970s clarified the original date was 1519. See Exh. Cat. Utrecht 1955, pp. 25–26, cat. no. 1; Friedländer 1967–1976, vol. 12, pp. 67, 120, no. 298, pls. 160–162; Faries 1975, p. 205, notes 30–31.

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ruler of the region, and that of his wife Apollonia appear on the back surface of the central panel of this altarpiece. Apollonia was the sister of Matthäus Lang von Wellenburg, who was ennobled and rose to the rank of Cardinal in service to Maximilian. Apollonia stayed in Venice with her husband from 1517, and she died in Milan in September 1519. In addition, the Carinthia region had little connection to the Frangepani family, but rather was the important political base of Matthäus Lang. From these facts, we can amply surmise that Matthäus Lang, Apollonia’s brother, executed her plan and commissioned the altarpiece from Jan van Scorel.44 The other adult males in the Holy Kinship with individual countenances are thought to be members of the Lang family, though the identification proposed by Gustav Bergmeier is not convincing.45 From these examples, it can be confirmed that Maximilian’s trusted retainers commissioned altarpieces on the subject of the Holy Kinship during the 1510s and 1520s when the Hapsburg’s marriage politics proved to be successful. Through the depictions of Maximilian and their own family in the paintings, the donors both praised the sovereign’s achievements, while also praying for the prosperity of their own family lineage.46 In 1509 Cranach painted the Holy Kinship Altarpiece as the first of this practice. The Elector brothers Frederick and John were, however, territorial lords of their own domain in their own right, while Lang and Cuspinian were both direct vassals of Maximilian. Even if Frederick and John used the Holy Kinship to represent their own family with Maximilian at the peak of such a structure, the facts would be quite different. Cranach’s altarpiece is thought to be dedicated to a church within the Saxon domain, and the viewers would clearly have recognized the Holy Roman Emperor, the Elector brothers, and their sole heir in the painting. Taking this into consideration, it can be supposed that a political problem the Elector family faced in the territory was an aspect in these depictions. Upon the death in 1464 of Frederick II, two generations before Frederick the Wise, the Duchy of Saxony was divided, with the elder son Ernest inheriting the Elector title and the northeastern area, while the younger brother Albert 44 45 46

See Krenn 1979. See Bergmeier 2001. In addition, Alpheus in a Holy Kinship altarpiece from the Franciscan Monastery Church in Schwaz, and Cleopas in an altarpiece painted by Sebastian Scheel in 1517 (now in Tiroler Landesmuseum Ferdinandeum, Innsbruck) resemble Maximilian. Exh. Cat. Innsbruck 1969, p. 151, no. 562; Thümmel 1980, p. 108; Kohler 1996, pp. 36–37. However, the resemblance of the former is not so striking, and it is difficult to regard the images as intentional portraits of the emperor. Further, Joachim in the fragment of a Holy Kinship altarpiece attributed to the Master of Chapel of the Holy Blood active in Bruges is given the face of Maximilian. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 1993, pp. 404–412.

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was given primarily the southwestern area of the duchy. As a result, during the reign of Duke Frederick the Wise, there were two lineages extant in the Witten family of the Duchy of Saxony, namely the Ernestine lineage who inherited the Elector position, and the Albertine lineage which bore the Duke of Saxony title.47 In the midst of this dual family lineage, the greatest advantage of the Ernestine lineage over the Albertine lineage was the role of Elector, a position specifically linked to the Holy Roman Emperor. Frederick the Wise boasted the most power of all seven electors in the Holy Roman Empire, but there was a continuing replay of opposition and reconciliation with the Emperor Maximilian I. He strove his hardest to prevent a decisive schism with the Hapsburg family who revealed their ambitions towards making the imperial title hereditary. Indeed, after Maximilian’s death, Frederick the Wise helped his grandson Charles to be elected Emperor.48 The Ernestine line declined during the reign of John Frederick. As the central figure in the reformation troops supporting the new faith, he was betrayed by the Catholic powers of the Albertine lineage Maurice and defeated in the Schmalkaldic War. In 1547, Charles V divested him of the Elector title. Later the Albertine lineage received the Elector role, and remained prosperous through the nineteenth century. This event, though it took place approximately forty years after Cranach created the Holy Kinship Altarpiece, clarifies Frederick’s plan to show his strong connection with Emperor Maximilian I in the altarpiece dedicated as a prayer for the prosperity of his family lineage. 47 48

Ludolphy 1984/2006, pp. 39–44, 65–74. Ludolphy 1984/2006, pp. 204–223.

Chapter 3

Domestic Bliss? Images of the Family and Home in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Genre Art* John Loughman 3.1

The Growing Interest in Domestic Imagery and Its Background

In this chapter I will discuss seventeenth-century Dutch genre paintings that give pride of place to the family and the home. I will begin by accounting for the popularity of this type of virtuous domestic scene, which became fashionable after the mid-century. Then I will explain why these images cannot be regarded as faithful visual records of the actual appearance of seventeenthcentury residences and the activities that took place within them. Finally, I will offer some explanations as to why artists manipulated reality in this way. The paintings that I will be discussing became known as genre representations in the eighteenth century, but are perhaps more accurately termed scenes of everyday life.1 I have also included a few portraits because they are set in the home and also because the divisions between genre art and portraiture were not as sharply drawn in the seventeenth century as they were later to become. One of the defining characteristics of Dutch genre art in the 1650s was a marked increase in images which feature family life, especially the tender relationship between mothers and children, the lively interaction between servants and their mistresses (Fig.  3.1), and the general industrious nature of women in the home (Fig.  3.2). Clearly a market had emerged for domestic themes and artists from the town of Delft, such as Pieter de Hooch and Johannes Vermeer, as well as Nicolaes Maes, who worked in Dordrecht, the Leiden painter Gerard Dou, and many others produced works that catered to this new demand. This is a painting by De Hooch, which has become known as A Mother’s Duty (Fig. 3.3), and depicts a mother delousing her young daughter’s * This essay was originally presented as a lecture at the symposium held at the Japan Art History Society’s 62nd Annual Congress, “Representation of Intimacy in Art,” May 23, 2009 at Kyoto University. 1 For the etymology of the art-historical term “genre” and its application to painting, see Stechow and Comer 1975–1976.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_004

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Figure 3.1 Johannes Vermeer, The Love Letter, ca. 1668–1669, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Figure 3.2 Johannes Vermeer, The Milk Maid, ca. 1658, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Figure 3.3 Pieter de Hooch, A Mother’s Duty, ca. 1658–1660, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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hair. The older woman’s absorption in this everyday act of personal hygiene emphasizes her diligence in carrying out her domestic duties and caring for her children, and might also refer both to the need for spiritual as well as bodily purity, or the importance of discipline in an infant’s life. It is exactly the sort of moralizing homely scene which was popular at the time. How do we account for this growing interest in domestic imagery? One explanation that is constantly cited, but to my mind is not entirely convincing, is that after 1648, when the long war of independence with Spain officially ended and the country was finally at peace, the Dutch wanted quieter, more introspective subjects and that gentle scenes of the family and home suited this taste. Another possible reason is that domestic subjects represented a new novelty and Dutch artists, working in a highly competitive marketplace, constantly strove to find new subjects or pictorial styles which would appeal to a core sector of the art market. Family life in the Dutch Republic of the seventeenth century also had some unusual aspects, which may have encouraged artists to make it a subject in their work. Families were smaller and more insular than in neighboring European countries. The household was considerably smaller, particularly in the western and northern provinces, and averaged 3.5 to 4.0 persons.2 Homes with a live-in servant or an apprentice were the exception rather than the norm. The economic historians Jan de Vries and Ad van der Woude also point to other, more difficult to quantify, aspects of seventeenth-century Dutch family life which they consider characteristic of the modern nuclear family, such as growing affectionate relationships between family members, a more equal companionable relationship between husband and wife, and the declining power of the extended family and neighbors to impact on the individual family unit.3 Various explanations have been offered for the peculiarly inward-looking nature of domestic life in seventeenth-century Holland. Certainly advanced urbanization and commercial capitalism created new economic opportunities for men and women and eroded the traditional alliance between the immediate family and more distant kin. Although the official Calvinist church never dominated religious life and other creeds were allowed to flourish, Protestant­ ism had a major impact on marriage and the family.4 Marriage was no longer regarded as morally inferior to a celibate existence and became a civil contract legislated, regulated and occasionally dissolved by the state. By insisting that parental consent was essential for marriage, Protestants restored the authority of the pater familias. Patriarchy was also encouraged in other ways and the 2 For European marriage and family trends, see Barbagli and Kertzer 2001, pp. ix–xxxii. 3 De Vries and Van der Woude 1997, pp. 163–169. 4 Watt 2001.

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respective roles of the husband and wife were repeatedly outlined; the most widely read moralist writer, Jacob Cats, addressed his remarks specifically to women in successive stages of life, listing their duties in the service of husband, family and home.5 The male head provided for the family and represented it in the outside world; his wife raised the children, administered the household budget and undertook the various domestic tasks, including the supervision of maids. All of these roles are represented in Dutch genre art of the period. Although married women had strong legal rights and were sometimes involved in independent trading activity, especially in continuing the business of a husband who was deceased or overseas, their position was always a subordinate one.6 The family was to become a microcosm of the Dutch state, a “little church” where children received their basic religious education and were inculcated with values and good manners. The seventeenth century saw dramatic advancements in the material circumstances of the Dutch and their houses filled up with a vast range of fashionable and luxurious commodities, some of which are found in genre paintings. Until the latter part of the eighteenth century, the Dutch Republic enjoyed the highest standard of living in Europe; wages were higher and inflation practically non-existent. While this wealth did not filter down to all sectors of society, it did mean that the purchasing power of most Dutch people, particularly in the Holland and Zeeland towns, was unparalleled at this time.7 Gradually during the course of the century, massive linen cupboards, often with intricate carvings, bulbous feet, and inlaid or veneered with varieties of exotic wood, began to replace the chest as the principal repository of textiles, clothing and family valuables.8 In a painting of 1663, Pieter de Hooch gives great prominence to a monumental cupboard inlaid with ebony and to the housewife who carefully takes the freshly washed and pressed linen from a maid (Fig. 3.4). While the mistress is distinguished from her subordinate through the expensive furtrimmed jacket that she wears and by her authoritative posture, the two work in silent and harmonious partnership. Linen, often kept under lock and key as testified by the De Hooch painting, was among the most prized possessions of a household and formed a substantial part of a bride’s dowry; in upper-class homes individual pieces were embroidered with the owner’s initials and rigorously detailed in inventories. Increasingly sculptural and lavish in their decoration, linen cupboards were indicators of wealth and status. 5 The most important discussion on domestic conduct books and their relevance for the art of the period is Franits 1993. 6 One the economic role of women, see De Vries and Van der Woude 1997, pp. 596–606. 7 De Vries 1993. 8 For the changing appearance and cultural significance of linen cupboards, see Dibbets 1996.

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Figure 3.4 Pieter de Hooch, Interior with Women beside a Linen Cupboard, 1663, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Figure 3.5 Emanuel de Witte, A Couple in an Interior, 1678, Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

Also during the seventeenth century, a variety of chairs designed for comfort and decoration rather than utility superseded the heavy oak benches and stools of the medieval period.9 In Emanuel de Witte’s family portrait (Fig. 3.5), dated 1678, the couple sit on so-called Spanish chairs, upholstered with leather or fabric. They rest their arms on a table spread with a vibrant Oriental rug. The table with its carved and curving legs (only two of which are visible) is typical of the small to medium-sized items of occasional furniture which gained in popularity at this time. Further color and allure was brought to the domestic interior by the success of Dutch overseas trade, and the respective activities of the Dutch East and West India Companies. Tropical woods were used for furniture; an ebony picture frame with gilt inlay surrounds the church interior painting on the rear wall of De Witte’s painting. Chinese porcelain became a fashionable form of decoration. In De Witte’s portrait two large porcelain jars stand like 9 A good recent introduction to seventeenth-century Dutch furniture is Baarsen 2007.

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sentries on either end of the high mantelpiece. Of local manufacture and covering the lower part of the wall is lustrous gilt leather, embossed with a foliated motif against a blue background. More affordable and modish than tapestry, panels of gilt leather often enveloped the entire walls of rooms in elite houses. There is evidence that after 1650 – precisely at the time that domestic images became popular in Dutch genre art – that the insularity of Dutch homes became more accentuated. This was a period when there was a desire for increased privacy among homeowners, to separate the intimate world of home from the public world of the street and the city. Particularly in wealthier homes, there was a compulsion to draw a clear distinction between those areas of the house which were accessible to visitors and those that were off-limits to all but the family. In newly-built houses and renovated larger dwellings, the function of rooms was more precisely defined. Whereas previously rooms had multiple functions (sleeping, eating, preparing food, receiving guests), we now find independent bedrooms, dining rooms, reception rooms and inner spaces used as family rooms.10 Corridors and staircases gave each room its distinct entrance. In this work, probably a portrait, from around 1660 and attributed to Cornelis de Man (Fig. 3.6), the main chamber, to judge from the furniture (including another impressive linen cupboard), seems to have been used exclusively for dining and storage and the preparation of food is relegated to an adjoining room glimpsed through an open doorway. As well as increasing notions of privacy, there was a corresponding awareness among the ruling oligarchy and other wealthy classes of the importance of civility or correct public conduct in order to demonstrate breeding and refinement. Civility was promoted ­partially through the publication of manners books, which outlined appropriate modes of behavior for dining etiquette and personal deportment, and

Figure 3.6 Attributed to Cornelis de Man, A Family Group at the Dinner Table, ca. 1660, oil on canvas, 57.5 × 72.1 cm, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles. 10

Changing room use has been discussed by Willemijn Fock in her essay, Fock 1987.

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r­elegated activities such as personal hygiene and the exercise of unedifying bodily functions to the private sphere.11 In this painting, for example, the young man wearing a tall hat seated to the right very deliberately wipes his mouth with a large napkin to remove any remaining particles of food. While this may strike us as commonplace act of good manners today, in the seventeenth century many people continued publicly to clean their mouths with their hands or sleeves in an ungainly manner. 3.2

Fiction and Exaggeration of Domestic Scenes

In the second part of the seventeenth century, there was also an increasing awareness of dividing the house along gender lines. The Middelburg-born bookseller Willem Goeree wrote an architectural treatise in 1681 where he set out his plans for the ideal house and differentiated between the front stage activities (to use the sociologist Erving Goffman’s terminology), which were the locale of the male, and backstage pursuits where the female dominated. He wrote: In almost all cases the foremost part of a house must be reserved for the man or house father, in order to have there his shop, his office and his salet or consultation room, and his storage cellar etc. The woman or house mother has her quarters in and around the rear rooms where also are situated the cooking and living kitchens, wash-house, and the rest of the things necessary for the housekeeping.12 This is another painting by Pieter de Hooch (Fig.  3.7).13 In the foreground a mother butters bread for her young son, who will presumably take it for his midday meal to the school indicated in the background. The boy stands res­pectfully to the right with his hands joined together, perhaps in silent prayer, and  clutching a hat that he has removed from his head. There are clear ­references to the importance of education and training and to the mutual respect required of parents and their children. Pieter de Hooch’s meticulously composed and warmly lit works conjure up an almost exclusively female world, 11 12 13

For a discussion of civility and Dutch books of manners, see Spierenburg 1981 and Roodenburg 1991. Goeree 1681, pp. 135–136. For Goffman’s classic analogies between human behavior and stage performance, see Goffman 1956. For an excellent recent discussion of De Hooch’s painting, see Franits 2006.

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Figure 3.7 Pieter de Hooch, A Woman Preparing Bread and Butter for a Boy, ca. 1661–1663, oil on canvas, 68.6 × 53.3 cm, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.

inhabited by housewives, maids and children, and secluded from the male parts of the house and the wider world which can only be glimpsed through open doors and windows. In this painting, for example, the two central figures are situated in some sort of interior room, while barely visible through the window that separates the room from the front hall, and partly concealed by a curtain, is a man seen from behind. The front hall, as Goeree made clear, was an appropriate space for the male head of household, where business could be conducted. Our conception of what domestic life was like in seventeenth-century Holland is inevitably shaped by the light-filled interiors painted by Vermeer, De Hooch, Gabriel Metsu and others. These paintings appear to show us wellappointed rooms furnished in the latest fashion and peopled in the main by mothers, children, servants, and couples involved in romantic intrigue, which is probably the subject of Vermeer’s painting, commonly know as The Music Lesson (Fig.  3.8). For a long time art historians believed that artists such as Vermeer had represented the world around them with such compelling realism and with such encyclopedic scope that it would be a relatively easy task to reconstruct their world and social practices simply by studying the images that they produced. However, nowadays we are sceptical of interpretations based on the alleged documentary character of seventeenth-century Dutch art. While individual parts of these paintings are painted with remark­able fidelity to life, seventeenth-century artists were highly selective and restrictive both in the range of subject matter that they choose and in their modes of represen­tation.

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Figure 3.8 Johannes Vermeer, The Music Lesson, ca. 1662–1664, Royal Collection, London.

Stock characters and situations are endlessly repeated, while artists regurgitated favored motifs and pictorial elements. Images such as Vermeer’s luminous and refined representation of an elegant musical gathering are carefully constructed fantasies rather than snapshots of reality. How has Vermeer manipulated the actual appearance of the seventeenthcentury Dutch home and household practices? In the first place, he suggests that a main reception room in a house of this period would have had black and white marble tiles. However, we know from various contemporary sources that expensive tiles of this nature, which had to be imported from Italy, were rarely used as floor covering.14 Marble floors were restricted to narrow spaces in the houses of the very wealthy such as an entrance hallway or a corridor. All sectors of society preferred wooden floors in most rooms of the house because of their warmth underfoot and homeliness. Some pine deal floors could be just as costly as marble. Secondly, there are inaccuracies in the way that the ceiling is painted. For structural reasons, ceiling beams tended to run parallel to the façade of a building rather than perpendicularly as Vermeer has painted them.15 These deviations make it very unlikely that Vermeer set up his easel in a room of his house in Delft and painted a literal transcription of what he saw before him. As well as exaggerating the popularity of marble floors in domestic environments, he also creates the impression, in this and other works, that there 14 15

Marble floors and their exaggerated depiction in paintings has been thoroughly investigated by Willemijn Fock. See Fock 2001, pp. 85–91. Fock 2001, p. 92.

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was widespread ownership of musical instruments and oriental carpets. The incidence of virginals or harpsichords in Delft homes was very limited during this period and an artist such as Vermeer could not have hoped to acquire this type of luxury item.16 Richly patterned and colored carpets, largely imported from Turkey, Persia, India and Egypt, were also very expensive objects and were usually placed on tables to prevent their deterioration rather than on floors. It has been suggested that only around one-third of the houses of the upper middle classes in Delft would have possessed a carpet of this nature.17 Vermeer must have seen one in the home of a wealthy patron and drawn it; the same carpet – a Turkish example from the town of Ushak – appears in three other paintings by him.18 In reality, of course, most tables in Dutch houses would have been either left bare or occasionally protected with a cover of cheap wood or fabric. Apart from black-and-white marble tiles, musical instruments, eastern carpets, other objects are over-represented in Dutch genre paintings of the seventeenth century. Among these are brass chandeliers which add lustre to paintings such as Gerard ter Borch’s so-called Curiosity (Fig. 3.9). However, this sort of lighting device was a far from ubiquitous presence in Dutch dwellings. Willemijn Fock, a historian of the decorative arts, in her survey of estate inventories from one of Leiden’s most fashionable districts, found only five brass chandeliers listed for the entire seventeenth century.19 Like marble floors, these costly items were far more common in public buildings and churches than in private homes. The question obviously arises as to why Dutch artists took such liberties with the actual appearance of the interior and its furnishings when depicting scenes of everyday life. One explanation is that they included marble floors, musical instruments, Turkish carpets, and brass chandeliers in order to demonstrate their artistic virtuosity. The ability to imitate in paint the appearance and texture of everyday objects was something which was highly valued in seventeenth-century art theory and also by connoisseurs and collectors.20 16

17 18 19 20

Ownership of keyboard instruments such as harpsichords or virginals appears to have been restricted in the Dutch Republic of the seventeenth century. In her research into elite household inventories from Delft, The Hague, and Leiden, the historian Thera Wijsenbeek-Olthuis found virtually none of these instruments listed for the first two cities. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1996, p. 154. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1996., p. 153. Ydema 1991, p. 145. Fock 2001, p. 95. For a lively discussion of one Dutch art theoretical text and its applicability to genre art, especially the work of Dou, see Sluijter 2000b, pp. 199–245.

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Figure 3.9 Gerard ter Borch, Curiosity, ca. 1660, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

A  painter like Ter Borch was renowned for his exceptional facility to paint shimmering satin – as for example in the dress of the standing girl on the left – and this became a leitmotif in his work. Equally impressive is his rendering of the purple velvet fabric, which in this instance covers the table and seating furniture. Surfaces such as reflective copper or the intricate weave of knotted carpets were enormously difficult to simulate through pictorial means. Similarly, black-and-white marble tiles laid in intricate patterns gave the artist an opportunity to show off his skill in perspective. Additionally, of course, all of these exclusive and rare items added color and visual interest to the painted interiors. Another motivating factor must have been the aspirational desires of potential buyers and patrons. As far as we can judge, domestic scenes painted by Vermeer, De Hooch, Ter Borch, Metsu and others generally commanded high prices and only those from the upper strata of society could afford to acquire them. While some of these individuals no doubt owned some of the luxury objects depicted in them, others aspired to own them. Sophisticated activities such as letter-writing, a subject particularly associated with Ter Borch, also added glamor to these paintings and appealed to the refined sensibilities of the affluent middle classes who strove to own works of art like this one or who fantasized about emulating the rarefied lives of the welldressed figures who people these extravagant interiors. It should also be pointed out that the elaborate fireplace in Ter Borch’s Curiosity was probably

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modeled on one found in a public building, Deventer town hall, rather than a typical domestic example.21 3.3

The Actual Appearance of Seventeenth-Century Dutch Houses

What did Dutch houses actually look like in the seventeenth century? It is difficult to reconstruct the actual appearance of seventeenth-century Dutch houses with complete accuracy.22 No interiors from this period survive entirely intact and unchanged. Inventories (lists of material possessions frequently drawn up on the death of a property owner) can offer some indication as to the composition, distribution and use of household items but these legal documents are usually sparse in their descriptive language and the rooms they enumerate are not easily visualized. A unique glimpse into the interior of a typical middle-class Amsterdam home is offered by Jan van der Heyden’s dramatic engraving from 1690 of a house consumed by fire (Fig. 3.10). An entrepreneurial inventor as well as an artist, Van der Heyden had recently patented a new type of pump and hose which drew water directly from the canals. The illustration appeared in a book published by him that celebrated and extolled the firefighting virtues of his invention, which would explain the care taken in documenting the scene. Van der Heyden has removed the side-wall from this house and allows us to look inside and see the room layout and furnishings.

Figure 3.10 Jan van der Heyden, Sectional View of an Amsterdam House on Fire, 1690, engraving. 21 22

See A.K. Wheelock’s entry on this painting in Exh. Cat. Washington and Detroit 2004–2005, no. 35. A number of recent publications have attempted to reconstruct the appearance and layout of seventeenth-century Dutch dwellings through the use of images, inventories, building specifications and other documentation. Among the most important of these are: Loughman and Montias 2000; Fock et al. 2001; and Muizelaar and Philips 2003. Zantkuijl 1993 remains an indispensable guide to building practices in Amsterdam.

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It is a large multi-story dwelling consisting of two parts: the main house fronting the street and an annex at the rear separated by an inner courtyard which provided much needed daylight and ventilation. Land in Amsterdam was in short supply and its expense was exacerbated by the need to drive pile foundations into the boggy soil. Consequently houses tended to be built on narrow and deep sites which forced builders to construct tall, slender brick dwellings that extended quite a distance from the street. In Van der Heyden’s engraving, a narrow spiral staircase connects the various levels of the main house. The basement was used primarily for storage, particularly for large barrels of wine. Directly above was the main floor, known as the bel-étage, which was reached from street level by a small flight of steps. A visitor to the house would have first entered the voorhuis or front hall. This space is furnished in characteristic fashion: six chairs and a small carved table are neatly aligned on two sides, while decorating one wall is a large map of the world suspended between wooden rods. The voorhuis has been divided vertically through the construction of a mezzanine floor and this secondary space has been made into an office or library for the man of the house – books line the walls and globes are visible on top of the book cases. Also on the primary floor is the main reception room, generally known as the zaal. Among its contents is a prominent linen press, a functional but expensive piece of furniture, which is rarely depicted in Dutch paintings. On the first floor are two family rooms used for living, sleeping and storage purposes. Indeed, until well into the seventeenth century most rooms, as I have already mentioned, had a multi-functional purpose and specifically designated bedrooms and dining rooms were slow to emerge. While the beds are obscured by plumes of heavy smoke, we can see large linen cupboards, chairs, a low table with toiletries, family portraits, and porcelain on the mantelpiece and elsewhere. The attic rooms were used as storage areas for provisions and turf, the staple fuel of the day, and for the drying of linen and clothes. The rear annex building (the achterhuis), accessible from the main house by a covered corridor which ran alongside the courtyard, also consisted of various storys, including a basement kitchen and directly above a living space where the family probably dined. Among the most distinctive spaces of the house was the voorhuis. While in larger houses built after 1650, this space became a narrow entrance vestibule, in older dwellings it was a substantial hallway sometimes spanning the entire width of the house. In the homes of artisans the voorhuis doubled as a place of work; the Leiden painter Quirijn van Brekelenkam specialized in depictions of tailors and shoemakers busily toiling with their apprentices in this space on elevated make-shift benches (Fig. 3.11). In this example from around 1660, an

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Figure 3.11 Quiringh van Brekelenkam, Interior of a Tailor’s Shop, ca. 1655–1661, National Gallery, London.

Figure 3.12 Nicolaes Maes, The Eavesdropper, ca. 1655–1660, Wellington Museum, London.

open hearth provides warmth for a nursing mother, and further underlines that rooms in Dutch houses rarely had a restricted use at this time. In Nicolaes Maes’ light-hearted warning against domestic neglect (Fig. 3.12), probably painted in the mid-1650s, the mistress of the house descends into the voorhuis from an upstairs office to engage directly with the viewer. She raises a finger to silence us and also to direct our attention to her maid in the room to the right, cavorting with a young man who brazenly leans in through an open window and distracts her attention from the child in the cradle. Female ­servants, found in only ten to twenty per cent of all households, are represented as either trusted companions, who were barely distinguishable in their dress from their mistresses, or as lazy, insolent and dissipated wreckers of the domestic equilibrium. The same ambivalent attitudes are found in contemporary documentary and printed sources.23 As we can tell from contemporary 23

Carlson 1994.

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descriptions, the voorhuis in Maes’ painting is furnished in characteristic fashion with a coarse circular mat and with a map of the world, a functional as well as a decorative element in the voorhuis of a merchant, where business would have been conducted. Because of the superior quality of light in the voorhuis, it was also a place where activities needing concentration took place such as sewing, lacemaking or reading. In the left foreground of Maes’ painting a chair is placed behind a counter on a zoldertje, a wooden platform which raised the woman who sat here above the cold stone floor and away from draughts, bringing her closer to the source of light. Gabriel Metsu depicted a particularly absorbed letter-reader using this device in a painting from ca. 1665–67 (Fig. 3.13). Some moralists criticized this custom of sitting close to the street window because it encouraged passers-by to stop and chat, interrupting household activities, and also, more seriously, because it could lead to flirtation between the sexes. You might also remember that Goeree regarded the front of house as the domain of the male householder. However, various aspects of Metsu’s voorhuis strike us as true to contemporary practices: the natural stone polychrome tiles, the row of ceramic tiles placed along the lower edge of the wall to prevent rising damp, the mirror that is propped forward for greater ease of use, and the expensive seascape picture protected from light, dirt and grime by the addition of a rail and curtain to the frame.

Figure 3.13 Gabriel Metsu, Woman Reading a Letter with a Servant, ca. 1665–1667, National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin.

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Figure 3.14 Jacob Ochtervelt, Street Musicians in the Doorway of a House, 1665, Art Museum, St. Louis.

As the line of demarcation between the public world of the city and the private life of the home, the voorhuis became a central theme during the 1660s in the work of Ludolf de Jongh, Pieter de Hooch and especially Jacob van Ochtervelt (Fig.  3.14). The latter’s so-called “threshold” paintings juxtapose elegant upper-class women, children and their maids with shabbily dressed street musicians and vendors who remain firmly on the street side of the open doorway. Another room that had a unique identity from at least the early seventeenth century in both visual and documentary sources was the office (comptoir).24 An exclusively male domain, this space was located close to the voorhuis, either immediately above or in an adjoining room. It was here that business was transacted with clients; in the houses of scholars, advocates and Reformed ministers this type of room could take the form of a more privately oriented library or study, or for others a cabinet of curiosities. Dressed in a comfortable and informal Japanese gown, the notary in a rare genre scene of 1672 by Job Berckheyde (Fig. 3.15) hands a customer a deed. This transaction takes place in an office next to the main entrance of his home. The position and posture of the notary curiously forms a counterpoint to the many representations of industrious women in seventeenth-century Dutch art. Seated on a more substantial zoldertje than the one used by females in the voorhuis, he also makes 24

For a discussion of the comptoir and its various functions, Van der Veen 2000.

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Figure 3.15 Job Berckheyde, Notary in His Office, 1672, private collection.

use of a foot warmer, a heating device normally associated with women. This office is furnished in a relatively simple way with a lectern and drawer, and vast quantities of documents arranged in specially constructed shelving or hanging in loose bundles and canvas bags. 3.4

The Manipulation of Images: The Forged “Domestic Bliss”

Some paintings of the interior by seventeenth-century Dutch artists no doubt realistically reflect details of the actual appearance, layout and furnishings of the typical upper-middle-class home of this period. However, the overall composition is invariably an imaginative construction that deviates from the physical reality of the home. This domestic scene by Pieter Janssens Elinga from around 1670 is typical of the process of enhancement and modification which took place (Fig. 3.16). The home that Janssens Elinga describes is pristine in its cleanliness and its pure geometry created by the interlocking cubic forms of rooms and the rectangular shapes of the windows, the hanging pictures and mirror, the chair backs, the door frame, and the patterned marble tiles. S­ elf-absorbed and industrious, his figures do not distract from this carefully elaborated environment. In addition, the light that enters the room is so strong that it forms impastoed highlights on the floor and wall, and the lower windows need to be shuttered against its intensity. Janssens Elinga’s painting

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Figure 3.16 Peter Janssens Elinga, Interior with a Gentleman, a Woman Reading, and a House­maid, ca. 1670, Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt am Main.

contributes to the myth that Dutch homes were tranquil, light-filled and excessively clean spaces. Despite the unusual density of pictures on the walls, these rooms are relatively uncluttered. Where are the cupboards, the major storage unit that was found in almost every room of a house, or the fireplaces or beds? Perhaps they are in those corners of the rooms not visible to us. However, the general sparseness of furniture and the strong sense of order and symmetry present in seventeenth-century Dutch domestic interior paintings is at variance with the volume and variety of household goods described in inventories. The natural light that could penetrate into the depths of Dutch homes must have been extremely limited in the seventeenth century, particularly during the long severe winters.25 Windows were tall and narrow and found only at the front and rear since most Dutch houses were built as part of a terrace. Intense direct sunshine was a relative rarity, and householders had to depend on a meager supply of diffuse light from the sky, supplemented even during daylight hours by artificial illumination from fireplaces and from candles and oil lamps for those who could afford it. The other exaggerated aspect of Janssens Elinga’s painted interior is the prevailing sense of sanitation: everything is spotless and gleaming. This painting, with the maid in the foreground busily sweeping, is one of the few examples that actually show cleaning chores. Images of women scouring pans and, more rarely, sweeping floors have also been interpreted as references to spiritual and moral purity.26 In the seventeenth century, the fastidiousness of the Dutch housewife and her employees was legendary, largely as a result of travelers’ reports which demonstrate an occupational interest in standards of hygiene 25 26

Lighting conditions in Dutch houses have been analyzed by Muizelaar and Philips 2003, pp. 56–61. Franits 2004, p. 161.

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and tidiness.27 Famous anecdotes, such as the one recounted by Sir William Temple of the muscular and quick-thinking maid who carried a visiting magistrate across a floor rather than risk muddying it, are part of a literary tradition celebrating the proverbial cleanliness of the Dutch which extends from Erasmus. These apocryphal tales gained in credence through their rehashing in the publications of foreign tourists, most of whom never actually entered an indigenous home, but perhaps spotted the occasional housewife or maid scouring the front steps.28 Despite their best efforts and the entreaties of domestic conduct books, Dutch women must have been fighting a losing battle against candle soot, dust from burning turf and general grime in an age before detergents and vacuum cleaners. The prevalence of infectious diseases and the recurrence of plague throughout the century are stark reminders of the grim reality of urban life. Just as foreign visitors extrapolated many of their ideas about Dutch homes from visits to public buildings, native artists also introduced elements from the same structures into their fictionalized depictions of the domestic interior. At first glance Gabriel Metsu’s formal assemblage of figures (Fig.  3.17), which dates from 1661, appears to be a convincing representation of a visit by a female guest to the lying-in room of a young mother, an almost ritualized event that was generally the preserve of women. The husband doffs his hat in response to the visitor’s well wishes, while a servant scurries into the room with a chair and foot warmer for her comfort. Indeed, scholars identify this painting with the one seen by the poet Jan Vos in the zaal of the Amsterdam alderman Jan

Figure 3.17 Gabriel Metsu, The Visit to the Nursery, 1661, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

27 28

For the Dutch “obsession” with cleanliness, see Schama 1987, pp. 375–397. Van Strien 1993, pp. 43 and 212.

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Jakobsen Hinloopen and celebrated in the former’s laudatory poem for its lifelike qualities, the dignified gestures and expressions, and the rare glimpse offered to male viewers of an essentially female ceremony.29 There is even ­speculation that this is a genre-like portrait of Hinloopen and his wife, whom he married in 1657, together with other family members. However, on closer inspection we realize that this room with its lofty proportions, monumental fireplace and enormous overmantel picture, and the geometric patterns of the marble floor belongs not to a wealthy regent’s residence but to either the Burgomasters’ Cabinet or the Council Chamber of the town hall of Amsterdam (Fig. 3.18). Since Hinloopen belonged to one of the city’s ruling oligarchies, it is entirely appropriate that this interior should reflect the location of his political power base. Other aspects of the room also deviate from contemporary domestic practice in order to create an image of exclusivity and luxury. Outside of court circles, Oriental carpets were hardly ever placed on floors during this period; more commonly, as with the colorful Persian carpet on the table to the right, they were used to cover furniture. Similarly, the four-poster bed with its elaborate carving and unusual finials bears little resemblance to surviving examples. As we have seen, Dutch depictions of the interior from the seventeenth century provide a skewed impression of what domestic dwellings looked

Figure 3.18 Photograph of room from the Town Hall of Amsterdam.

29

The most up-to-date and comprehensive discussion of Metsu’s painting is provided by Walter Liedtke in Cat. New York 2007, pp. 463–469.

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like and how families conducted themselves in these spaces. Some aspects of the interior (marble floors, brass chandeliers, eastern carpets) are over-­ represented, others are under-represented. I will just give a few examples of elements of interior decoration and domestic activities that were ignored by genre painters. Given the scarcity of natural light in the interior, it is surprising how seldom sources of artificial light such as simple candles, wall sconces (Fig.  3.19) or oil lamps are represented. Striped wall hangings (Fig.  3.20), which became popular in the third quarter of the century, and were often en suite with curtains and valences, are also a relative rarity in  domestic interior paintings.30 Artists preferred to keep walls clear of

Figure 3.19 Caspar Netscher, Musical Company, 1665, Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

Figure 3.20 Pieter de Hooch, Woman with Child and Servant, ca. 1660, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. 30

Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1996, p. 153.

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c­ overings or to depict more artistically challenging and expensive tapestries and gilt leather, as in the case of this painting where the wall is covered with expensive leather decorated with red paint and silver and gold leaf (Fig. 3.21). While we know from inventories that paintings must have been tiered on walls and substantial numbers of porcelain and Delftware vases and jars decorated cupboards and mantelpieces, large displays of pictures and vessels of this sort are infrequently found in genre paintings (Fig. 3.22). The general orientation towards order and spaciousness that we find in representations of the domestic interior, which acted as an appropriate setting for scenes of tranquillity and familial harmony, perhaps precluded artists from including these facets of room decoration.

Figure 3.21 Attributed to Samuel van Hoogstraten, Woman in a Gilt Leather Room, ca. 1665, Liechtenstein Collection, Vaduz.

Figure 3.22 Pieter Codde, Portrait of a Family in an Interior, ca. 1620–1625, art market.

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Exclusively female gatherings are seldom represented as taking place in these genre paintings. The visit to the lying-in room or nursery, and the tea party (Fig. 3.23), which became a fashionable form of social interaction towards the end of the century, are rarely depicted. Metsu’s painting of the visit to the nursery, and this image of three women drinking tea by a minor female artist, are the great exceptions to this rule. The human subject matter of most domestic interiors is also restricted and stereotypical. The housewife is portrayed as a type of secular Virgin Mary, primarily concerned with tending to the needs of her children, but also busily involved in spinning, sewing and other needlework, purchasing and preparing food and, most popular of all, supervising her maids. This is Ter Borch’s representation of a woman creating a thread from a ball of wool (Fig. 3.24). Although wealthy woman, like the expensively attired individual in this painting, had no economic need to spin their own fabrics since textiles were cheaply and commercially available, activities like this were historically associated in art and literature with diligence, purity and commitment to the home.31 Images of spinning women and other roles given to females in genre paintings are exactly the ideal types of housewifery and motherhood that are propounded in marriage and household manuals of the period. Men are generally absent from these scenes of domestic virtue, pushed to peripheral secondary spaces

Figure 3.23 Cornelia van Marle, The Tea Party, 1689, Stichting Het Vrouwenhuis, Zwolle. 31

See M.E. Wieseman in Exh. Cat. Washington and Detroit 2004–2005, pp. 94–96, no. 20.

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Figure 3.24 Gerard ter Borch, Woman Spinning, ca. 1652–1653, Museum Boijmans-Van Beuningen, Rotterdam.

Figure 3.25 Gerard ter Borch, The Suitor’s Visit, ca. 1660, National Gallery of Art, Washington.

as if they wanted to avoid emasculation through contact with household chores and feminine spaces, or depicted alone and introspective in an office or library. Even in the “high life” genre scenes popularized by Ter Borch (Fig.  3.25), De Hooch, Metsu and others during the 1660s and 1670s, and which usually revolved around the theme of romantic love, the number of social situations is limited: reading and writing letters, playing cards and various parlor

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Figure 3.26 American and Japanese lifestyle magazines, c. 2013.

games, and making music or singing. While suitors may occasionally be too forthright in their amorous intentions, particularly young officers who had a questionable reputation, the female object of their desire is always demure and restrained. This limited repertoire of imagery conveyed and underpinned basic societal and religious values. Dutch genre paintings represented an ideal of the interior – brighter, cleaner, neater, tended to by servants, and more richly decorated – and of social activities such as refined courtship and musical interludes. For such viewers these depictions encouraged desirability in much the same way as lifestyle magazines do today (Fig. 3.26). Others, who were fortunate to own some of these privileged objects, would have had their social distinctions endorsed through looking at or possessing these paintings. Indeed, images of the domestic interior by progressive artists such as De Hooch, Vermeer, Metsu and Ter Borch were expensive commodities in themselves and their ownership would have bolstered cultural pretensions. Finally, it must be emphasized that the artists who painted the domestic interior and the purchasers who coveted them, as far as we can judge, were predominantly male. They were less interested in accurately depicting furniture and interior decoration because most parts of the home, to judge from contemporary texts, were regarded as chiefly the domain of women. Domestic activities such as the tea party or the visit to the nursery were also largely excluded because these rituals generally involved only women. As those who were primarily active in the commercial and public sphere, men valued status symbols more, and as guardians of the family’s honor in the outside world, they hankered after images which reinforced prevailing notions of domesticity and nurturing.

Chapter 4

Changing Images of Childhood: The Children’s Portrait in Netherlandish Art and Its Influence*,† Mirjam Neumeister 4.1

Children in Dutch Seventeenth-Century Genre Paintings

In 2007, an exhibition entitled “The changing face of childhood: British children’s portraits and their influence in Europe” took place at the Städel Museum in Frankfurt.1 The point of departure was the Portrait of the Children of Lord George Cavendish by Thomas Lawrence, which had been acquired for the Städel collection in 2001.2 Aside from the casual and spontaneous mood it radiates, this depiction is characterized by the fact that the children are shown in completely natural surroundings and unaccompanied by adults. The portrait is thus representative of leading attitudes of the time: a new conception of nature and, in accordance with it, a new understanding of the child as an independent, natural being. It was not a painting of the eighteenth century, however, which formed the prelude to the show, but the portrait of Maddalena Cattaneo (Fig. 4.1) executed by Anthony van Dyck in 1623. The exhibition architecture was designed in such a way that, upon entering the gallery, both this painting and – somewhat at a distance – the portrait of Miss Crewe by Joshua Reynolds (Fig. 4.2) were in the visitor’s field of vision.3 Anthony van Dyck, who spent a great deal of his artistic life in England, did indeed exert a strong influence on painting in England * Translation from German into English: Judith Rosenthal. † This essay was originally presented as a lecture at the symposium held at the Japan Art History Society’s 62nd Annual Congress, “Representation of Intimacy in Art,” May 23, 2009 at Kyoto University. 1 See Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007. Before being shown at the Dulwich Picture Gallery, London, under this title, the exhibition was presented as “Die Entdeckung der Kindheit. Das englische Kinderporträt and seine europäische Nachfolge” at the Städel Museum in Frankfurt am Main. 2 Frankfurt am Main, Städel Museum (on loan from the Adolf and Luisa Haeuser-Stiftung). See Garlick 1989, no. 178 and Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 13. 3 Private collection. See Mannings 2000, vol. 1, p. 153, no. 446; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 7.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_005

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Figure 4.1 Anthony van Dyck, Maddalena Cattaneo, 1623, National Gallery of Art, Widener Collection, Washington.

Figure 4.2 Joshua Reynolds, Miss Crewe, ca. 1775, private collection.

in the seventeenth, even into the eighteenth century. The juxtaposition of the two abovementioned works in the show clearly demonstrated this circumstance, for the two paintings exhibit conspicuous similarities with regard to the depiction of children. Both girls, their youthful freshness masterfully

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captured by both painters, appear before the beholder as individual figures and meet his gaze directly. At the same time, they are distinguished by individual character traits: Maddalena Cattaneo makes an impression of childlike shyness, while little Frances Crewe appears clever and self-confident. The exceptional charm of these two paintings has lost nothing of its impact to this day, and is to be attributed to the fact that both Van Dyck and his successor Reynolds proved capable of depicting the children in such a way as to appear entirely at ease and as though they had been observed spontaneously. The following will be devoted to the prerequisites for this development by placing the focus on the Netherlandish children’s portrait of the seventeenth century. To the very present, the remarkable realism and vibrant manner of depiction contribute to our great appreciation of Netherlandish painting of the Golden Age. Not only the objects of everyday life, but also human co-existence were vividly recorded on canvas and provide us with insights into this longbygone age even today. Children evidently played an important role back then, for countless genre paintings show us cheerful scenes of family life, or are enchanting studies of individual young personalities. The Feast of Saint Nicholas (Fig.  4.3), painted in ca. 1665–68 by Jan Steen, appears to give us insight into the life of a Dutch family of the seventeenth century.4 In the scene, members of several generations have gathered to celebrate the holiday. Obedient children receive presents, naughty ones only the rod, as seen here in

Figure 4.3 Jan Steen, The Feast of Saint Nicholas, ca. 1665–1668, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. 4 Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum (inv. no. A385). On the painting, see Exh. Cat. Washington and Amsterdam 1996, no. 30.

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the left background. Jeered at by his younger brother, the crying boy offers a brilliant study of an unhappy child further emphasized by the discrepancy between his immature behaviour and his size – he has already nearly grown out of his children’s clothing. However, his grandmother comes to his aid: as the luring gesture of her hand suggests, she is about to retrieve a gift for him from its hiding place. The foreground is dominated by the charming figure of a little girl who has been showered with presents. Her mother reaches out toward her affectionately while Grandpapa looks on with pride. The painting testifies to the great importance attached to family life in the seventeenth century. The precise description of the childlike behaviour – for example the anxious gesture with which the little girl hugs her treasures – shows that not only adults but also children were perceived consciously and their typical conduct reproduced by the painters with all precision. Yet such depictions are not always what they seem to be at first sight. The painting of A Boy Caring for his Dog (Fig. 4.4) executed in ca. 1655 by Gerard ter Borch places the limelight on childish dreaminess.5 The finely nuanced coloration and the magnificent reproduction of the various surfaces, for example the dog’s curly coat, further heighten the charm of the depiction. A conspicuous feature, however, is the wide-brimmed hat in the foreground,

Figure 4.4 Gerard ter Borch, Boy Caring for His Dog, 1655, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlun­gen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich. 5 Munich, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek (inv. no. 589). See Cat. Munich 2006, p. 46.

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of the kind frequently worn by schoolboys. If this hat already appears somewhat sloppy and slightly damaged upon closer inspection that impres­ sion  is  further confirmed when we notice a worn-looking book in the left ­background. There it lies alongside an inkwell, entirely unnoticed by the boy and thus indicating that the latter is abandoning himself to idle pastimes instead of doing his schoolwork. The contemporary saying “picking fleas on a dog” to symbolize laziness and useless activity corresponds perfectly with the scene.6 Jan Steen’s Children Teaching A Cat to Dance conveys an unequivocally negative view of children.7 To the tune of a flute being played by a girl, a boy grabs a cat by its front paws. Struggling against this assault, the cat – whose tail is also being pulled by the boy on the left – appears to be dancing. The depiction of childish cruelty is enhanced by the boy at the centre holding a pipe and thus already imitating the vices pursued by adults. The dog in the foreground is shown in relationship to the cat: its expectant pose expresses its glee at the prospect of chasing the cat the next instant. It thus provides an image of unbridled abandonment to instinct, a characteristic also associated with children during the period in question. Genre paintings were thus to some extent informed by a very critical undertone, since in this context children, as yet unformed and still controlled by their spontaneous needs, frequently embodied negative modes of human behaviour which people were expected to keep under control.8 In such depictions, the child is a projection figure in which the adult viewer of the painting could study the consequences of unbridled conduct as in a mirror. This intent corresponds to the moralizing character of contemporary literature which visualized negative human behaviour in the form of emblems or symbols and admonished the reader or viewer to reflect upon himself. A motif frequently encountered in Netherlandish genre and portrait painting is that of the child training a dog.9 It has symbolic meaning in that it reflects contemporary conceptions of education. Born as unformed beings, chil­ dren  were to be shaped by their education. The example set by adults was 6 See Cat. Munich 2006, p. 46. Wheelock, on the other hand, opposes a negative interpretation; see Exh. Cat Washington and Detroit 2004–2005, no. 28. 7 Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum (inv. no. A718). For a discussion of a moralistic reading of this scene, see Durantini 1983, p. 287. 8 In the fundamental study L’Enfant et la vie familiale sous l’Ancien Régime (Paris, 1960), Philippe Ariès voices the opinion that at that time children were held in low esteem. The affectionate view of children testified to in private writings contradicts this perspective, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, pp. 11–12 (“Inleiding”); also see Exh. Cat. Berkeley et al. 1995, pp. 81–82. 9 See Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, no. 66.

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Figure 4.5 Emblem from Imago primi saeculi societatis Iesu, Antwerp, 1640.

accordingly quite important, since it had a direct influence on children’s development. This idea is conveyed in exemplary manner in an emblem in the book Imago primi saeculi societatis Iesu (Fig. 4.5).10 Many depictions of children were directed quite purposively toward adults, as is illustrated by pictorial themes showing children and adults together. They are representative of the notion that bad behaviour on the part of children could be attributed either to faulty upbringing or to the negative example set by the elders. In Netherlandish genre painting, above all two pictorial themes served to illustrate these negative influences – the slovenly household and the excesses practiced at family celebrations. In the first half of the 1660s, Jan Steen painted The Effects of Intemperance, showing a woman neglecting the care of her children and the latter taking full advantage of their mother’s shortcoming.11 The importance of the example set by adults is also reflected in depictions of the saying “As the old sing, so pipe the young”.12 The Alte Pinakothek in Munich has in its possession a large-scale painting by Jacob Jordaens which he himself enlarged a number of times between 1632 and 1646 (Fig. 4.6).13 It shows a group of boisterous revellers. The cause of their exuberance is booze, as is symbolized by the demonstratively displayed glasses and jugs as well as the large brass pitcher in 10 11

12 13

For a discussion of this, see Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, pp. 19–24 and 243–45, no. 66. London, The National Gallery (inv. no. NG 442). The painting illustrates two proverbs: as implied by the toppled pitcher, the mistress of the house has had too much to drink. In keeping with the proverb “wine is a mocker”, she has completely lost control of herself and her surroundings. To the left, one of her children is stealing her purse – a symbol of her power as housewife –; the other children are offering food to a cat. The boy throwing “roses before swine” illustrates foolish behaviour in general, to which the human being has a tendency when he does not keep his desires in check. On the iconography, see Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 1997, no. 50. Munich, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek (inv. no. 806). See Cat. Munich 2002, pp. 222–225.

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Figure 4.6 Jacob Jordaens, As the Old Sing, So Pipe the Young, ca. 1632–1646, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

the foreground. The old man in the armchair is joined by the boy standing next to him, holding a songbook and singing, to illustrate the proverb. The girl at the left-hand edge taking a sip from a wine glass is already eagerly following the adults’ bad example. The parrot perched above the group has not been included coincidentally. Known as the bird which repeats the words of human beings without understanding their meaning, it is directly related here to the children, who imitate the behaviour of the adults without thinking about the consequences.14 4.2

Children Portraits in the Netherlands in the Seventeenth Century: Display of Social Status and Expression of Affection

With their descriptions of human beings based on in-depth observation, the Netherlandish genre paintings of the seventeenth century appeal to their ­viewers to this day. Above all the exceedingly vibrant representation of childish spontaneity and unconstraint reveals an absolutely affectionate attitude toward young folk and their typical traits. Depictions which place childlike behaviour in a negative light, on the other hand, also show that adults bear a great responsibility with regard to the formation of children’s characters. The anonymous genre figures came to serve as surfaces for the projection of exemplary or unacceptable behaviour. But how do these practises relate to portraits of children? The latter were commissions, which left no room for negative projections. On the contrary, they convey the hopes and expectations which the children were to fulfil in 14

See Cat. Munich 2002, p. 225 with a reference to Henkel and Schöne 1967, col. 802. In this context the parrot is interpreted as a symbol of the folly of abandoning oneself to sensual pleasures; see Dittrich and Dittrich 2004, p. 329.

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the future.15 Portraits served traditional purposes of representation since – executed only for special occasions – they documented the rank and social status of their subjects. Not only costly clothing and accessories emphasized these aspects, but also formulaic poses expressing dignity and noblesse. Even if there was undoubtedly an awareness of childlike behaviour in the Netherlands, as is documented by the genre paintings, little of that knowledge is reflected in the portraits. The children pose stiffly before the viewer like miniature adults. The Netherlandish painters’ great mastery of the free and unconstrained depiction of children was restricted in portraits to the precise observation of the youthful charm which accounts for the appeal of these works. One such icon of child portraiture is Johannes Verspronck’s Girl in Blue of 1641 (Fig.  4.7).16 The luxurious clothing, the jewellery and the ostrich feather fan – a very costly object even then – are all found in portraits of adult women. This is evident when we compare this work with the likeness of a woman executed one year earlier and presumably depicting the little girl’s mother.17 Even the pose of the two subjects is the same. Only the delicate facial features and the curiosity in the gaze fixed on the viewer reveal that the figure is a child. Typically childlike behaviour, however, is not shown.

Figure 4.7 Johannes Verspronck, Girl in Blue, 1641, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. 15 16 17

See Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, pp. 31–32. Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum (inv. no. 3064). See Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1979, no. 33; Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, no. 38. Enschede, Rijksmuseum Twenthe (inv. no. 514). See Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1979, no. 23.

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Prime examples of the excessive decorum which makes children into little adults are the famous portraits of the Spanish royal children by Diego Velazquez, for instance the likeness of the Infanta Margarita Teresa in a blue dress painted in 1659.18 These portraits are indicative of the need to document not only the family’s status, but also – in view of the fact that they are likenesses of the offspring – the continuation of the dynasty. Considering this function, it is understandable that a representative portrait hardly provided scope for childish conduct. Even in the cases where nature is depicted in the background, as in Caesar van Everdingen’s Portrait of a Two-Year-Old Boy of 1664, that section of the scene is not to be interpreted as free space for children’s play. Rather, the background serves as a backdrop and was likewise subordinated to the representative function.19 The motif of the fink on the boy’s hand not only lends the portrait a playful note but also points to the perspective of the work’s reception, once again directed solely toward the adult: already in the literature of antiquity, the fink was considered exceedingly quick and eager to learn, and in this context thus stands for the education of the child.20 It was rather unusual for children to be shown moving about or playing. One exception is the remarkable portrait of a little boy playing with a top, at which his dog is sniffing in curiosity.21 Jacob van Loo, known primarily as a history painter, executed this scene in the first half of the 1640s. And indeed, portraits modelled after the pictorial type of the portrait historiée offered perhaps the best context for the depiction of movement. The painter Gerard van Honthorst – who was court painter to both the Dutch stadholder as well as the English king – executed the portrait of Hieronymus and Frederik Adolf van Tuyll van Serooskerken in 1641.22 Characteristically, the children appear in costumes reminiscent of the garments of antiquity. The deliberate association with Arcadia enabled the boys to appear in a different role, one not established in 18 19

20 21 22

Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum (inv. no. GG 2130). Barnsley, Cannon Hall Museum (on permanent loan from the National Loan Collection Trust). The building seen here, typical of rural Northern Holland, is among those primarily in the possession of the elite of Amsterdam and Alkmaar at the time and serving them as summer residences; see Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, no. 72. The boy gazing at the viewer with an unselfconsciously childish grin is accordingly the son of a patrician, as is confirmed by his expensive clothing. See Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, no. 72. Private collection. See Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, no. 55. The Hague, M.A.O.C. Gravin van Bylandt Stichting. See Judson and Ekkart 1999, p. 286, no. 389.

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the society of their time, and play with bows and arrows.23 Yet the choice of toys was anything but coincidental: in those days hunting was a privilege of the nobility, the class to which the little boys naturally belonged. The representative function of the portraits accounts for their formulaic character. The unusual likeness of a little girl in a child’s chair, a painting dated 1627 in the collection of the Städel in Frankfurt, is thus an exception.24 It owes this status to the special context in which it was executed – the little girl kicking her legs and laughing merrily at the viewer is Susanna, the daughter of the portrait painter Cornelis de Vos of Antwerp. This likeness, which is reminiscent of a genre painting at first sight, was quite obviously intended for private use, and the painter therefore depicted his gay little daughter munching sweets. A portrait like this, not painted for representative purposes, grants us insight into the real relationship between parents and their children during the period under discussion. That relationship was evidently much more emotional than either the portraits or the genre paintings reveal – the former because they were bound tightly to the function of representing family and dynasty, the latter because they sought to convey moral tenets. Around 1600, within the context of the Counter Reformation, a new conception of childhood and family developed in Flanders.25 The special veneration of the Virgin Mary derived from her prominent position as the Mother of God as well as the most important intercessor. The sacrament of confession – not accepted by the Protestants – was emphatically propagated in connection with the worship of the Virgin. The Christ Child was not only the Son of God, but also, as a personification of innocence, a symbol of the pure soul, a central aspect of spiritual ministration.26 Devotional images showing the Christ Child receiving loving care from his mother or parents triggered the viewer’s emotions.27 During this period, Rubens and his workshop produced a great number of Madonna paintings and depictions of the Holy Family, an excellent example being the painting of the Holy Family with Elizabeth and John the Baptist of ca. 1632–34 in Cologne.28 The close relationship between mother and child is a 23

24 25 26 27 28

In the exhibition on the child’s portrait taking place in 2007 in Frankfurt and Dulwich, the portrait of a shepherd painted by Peter Lely in ca. 1658–60 (London, Dulwich Picture Gallery, DPG 563) illustrates this aspect; see Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 3. Frankfurt am Main, Städel Museum (inv. no. 763). See Van der Stighelen 1990, pp. 107–10, no. 43. See Van der Stighelen 2000. See Van der Stighelen 2000, p. 34. See Van der Stighelen 2000, pp. 34–36. Cologne, Wallraf-Richartz-Museum (inv. no. 1038). See Van der Stighelen 2000, p. 35.

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Figure 4.8 Peter Paul Rubens, Portrait of His Wife Helena Fourment and Their First-Born Son Frans, ca. 1632, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

central motif in Rubens’s depictions of the Madonna. Their ­intimate connection­ lends his religious devotional pictures an emotional depth and vibrancy which at the same time correspond to the aspired aim of conveying the renewed conception of the family as part of the Catholic way of life. Such depictions thus not only served the purposes of devotion, but were also reflections of the moral tenets of the time.29 This is strikingly evident in Rubens’s Portrait of his Wife Helena Fourment and Their First-Born Son Frans (Fig. 4.8) in the Alte Pinakothek.30 It shows little Frans naked on his young mother’s lap. If we are reminded of Raphael’s depictions of the Madonna, it is no coincidence, as a comparison with the Italian master’s Madonna della s­ eggiola of 1514 shows.31 In the increasingly prosperous and independent cities of the Netherlands, a middle class developed in which a more modern conception of the family established itself. It was characterized by a limited number of children to whose upbringing and education great importance was attached. Above all in Antwerp, a special type of middle-class family portrait emerged that was, however, formally speaking, modelled after portraits of the nobility.32 29 30 31 32

See Van der Stighelen 2000, pp. 34–36. Munich, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek (inv. no. 315). See Cat. Munich 2002, pp. 266–69; Vlieghe 1987, no. 98. See Vlieghe 1987, pp. 27 and 94. See Van der Stighelen 2000, p. 36.

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A ­telling example is the exceedingly representative full-length likeness, now in the Prado, of the painter Jacob Jordaens and his family, executed in ca. 1621/22.33 The affectionate attitude toward children is manifested in the gentle gesture with which the mother puts her arm around her impishly smiling daughter Elisabeth. It was with a very sharp eye that Jordaens captured the child’s smile which contrasts so entrancingly with the serious poses of the adults and thus lends the depiction a certain natural quality. Here it becomes apparent that the realistic depiction of childlike behaviour already seen to characterize the Netherlandish genre scenes was also adopted for the portrait genre. 4.3

Portraits of Artists’ Children: In the Case of Rubens

Portraits of artists’ children could have widely differing functions, as exemplified by the likenesses Rubens painted of his daughters and sons. Even if Rubens conceived of himself first and foremost as a history painter and accordingly executed portraits only rarely, he did paint an unusually great number of likenesses of the members of his family. Among them is the Portrait of Albert and Nicolaas Rubens (Fig.  4.9) carried out in 1626.34 It shows Rubens’s two sons from his first marriage with Isabella Brant. The father conveyed the difference in age between the two boys in a very deliberate fashion.35 Albert, the elder son, who was very close to the painter, carries a book under his right arm. This is a prop which expresses that he is already devoting himself to his studies and preparing himself for his role as an adult. The glove indicates the high status of the family, which belonged to the important circles of Antwerp society. Albert’s direct eye contact with the viewer and the affectionate gesture with which he embraces his younger brother impart attentiveness and an early-developed sense of responsibility. The younger Nicolaas, on the other hand, is still entirely in the realm of childhood, his attention captivated completely by his toy. Taking no notice of the viewer, his gaze is fixed on the goldfinch tethered to a rod – a typical children’s toy of the time.36 At the same time, like the elder 33 34 35 36

Madrid, Museo Nacional del Prado (inv. no. 1549). See D’Hulst 1982, esp. pp. 268–70. Vienna, Sammlungen des Fürsten von und zu Liechtenstein (inv. no. GE 114). See Vlieghe 1987, no. 142. Also see Cat. Vaduz 1980, no. 55; Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004a, no. 73. See Vlieghe 1987, p. 177 under reference to Julius Held. See Brednich 1972. In an unpublished manuscript on Rubens’s portrait by Justus Müller Hofstede, in which the author discusses the various stages of life, he interprets Nicolaas as the embodiment of the early years of childhood, Infantia, whereas Albert personifies Pueritia, the more advanced stage of childhood from about age seven onward.

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Figure 4.9 Peter Paul Rubens, Portrait of Albert and Nicolaas Rubens, ca. 1626, Sammlungen des Fürsten von und zu Liechtenstein, Vienna.

brother’s glove, it also refers to the family’s prominent status, for it imitates the art of training falcons for hunting, an activity reserved for the aristocracy. This portrait accordingly takes into account the various characteristics of the representative portrait and exhibits a repertoire that was also obligatory for likenesses of the nobility. Nevertheless, portraits such as these were executed on the basis of direct observation, as is evidenced by the sketches Rubens carried out in preparation for the painting. In the case of the Liechtenstein likeness, the study of little Nicolaas has survived.37 This drawing is evidently a live study: Rubens captured his son’s facial features with rapid strokes and modelled the threedimensional forms with confidently placed hatching. The soft hair of a child is alluded to with a few cursory strokes. Here Nicolaas does not lower his gaze as in the painting, but directs it toward an invisible vis-à-vis. In this precise recording of childish traits we not only encounter the experienced draughtsman, but also the affectionate father. Yet Rubens not only painted likenesses of the family emphasizing their social status, but also carried out studies and sketches for private use. A wonderful example is the portrait of Clara Serena Rubens of 1615/16, likewise in 37

Vienna, Albertina (inv. no. 17648). See Vlieghe 1987, no. 142b; Exh. Cat. Vienna, 2004b, no. 86.

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the Liechtenstein collection.38 It has a quality of immediacy accounted for on the one hand by the confined pictorial field dominated by the frontally viewed face of the girl, and on the other hand by the sketchy manner of painting. The latter lends the depiction a spontaneous freshness quite in keeping with the liveliness of a child. The red chalk drawing of Rubens’s son Nicolaas in a red cap was likewise not executed in preparation for a painting, but as an independent study for private use.39 No corresponding painting is known. Apart from these studies for the private context which testify as much to the artist’s intense powers of perception as to his paternal love and pride, there are also drawings of his children which he kept among his stock of pictorial motifs and which are therefore repeatedly found in his paintings. A chalk drawing of Nicolaas Rubens with a String of Corals, a study showing only the head of the small child, is in collection of the Albertina.40 Working hastily, the artist captured the childlike daydream state in which the boy is oblivious to his father’s presence. The string of corals was thought of at the time as a means of protection against evil.41 Even if the study reveals a certain paternal affection, it was carried out as an aid to Rubens’s artistic work: he used this drawing as a model for the face of the Christ Child in the depiction of the Madonna with Penitent Sinners and Saints in Kassel.42 For the figure of the Infant St. John on the righthand edge, he used a study he had made of his son Albert. There are four versions of this study, which – due to later revisions – cannot be attributed to Rubens with certainty.43 In view of its somewhat finer execution, the version in Budapest (Fig. 4.10) is the one most likely to be a Rubens original, but all four may possibly have been carried out by other artists as copies of a lost ­original.44 Comparison with the painting in Kassel reveals that Rubens used the sketch for the head of the Infant St. John without making any major changes.45 We can tell that Rubens’s children did not serve directly as models for the painting, but that the artist worked from his spontaneously executed 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

Vienna, Sammlungen des Fürsten von und zu Liechtenstein (inv. no. GE 105). For a discussion of this, see Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004a, p. 357, sub no. 84. Vienna, Albertina (inv. no. 8266). See Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b, no. 85. Vienna, Albertina (inv. no. 17650). See Vlieghe 1987, no. 143; Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b, no. 77. For a detailed discussion of this, see Van der Stighelen 1990, pp. 21–22, note 18. Kassel, Museumslandschaft Hessen Kassel, Gemäldegalerie (inv. no. GK 119). See Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b, p. 338. See Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b, p. 340. Budapest, Szépmüvészeti Múzeum (inv. no. 1745). See Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b, no. 79; Cat. Budapest 2005, no. 249. Also see Joost Vander Auwera in Exh. Cat. Brussels 2007, p. 181. See Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b, p. 342; Exh. Cat. Brussels 2007, p. 181. Also see Cat. Budapest 2005, p. 254.

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Figure 4.10 Peter Paul Rubens, Albert Rubens, Szépmüvészeti Múzeum, Budapest.

Figure 4.11 Peter Paul Rubens, Madonna in a Garland of Flowers, ca. 1616–1618, Bayerische Staats­gemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

drawings, because the latter appeared in a number of different contexts. The head of young Albert was used again, slightly changed, for the face of a putto at the bottom right of the Madonna in a Wreath of Flowers of 1616/18 in the Alte Pinakothek (Fig. 4.11).46 The portrait depictions of Rubens’s children clearly illustrate the attitude toward young folk at that time in history. The representative portrait of the sons in Liechtenstein document the pride taken in one’s offspring, who 46

Munich, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Alte Pinakothek (inv. no. 331). See Cat. Munich 2002, pp. 336–341. On Rubens’s use of the drawings as models for paintings, also see Joost Vander Auwera in Exh. Cat. Brussels 2007, p. 181.

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guarantee the continuity of the dynasty while at the same time emphasizing the parents’ status in society. The father’s affectionate gaze is expressed above all in the spontaneously executed studies showing the young ones as childlike creatures unburdened by any role-related expectations. What is more, however, the use of these model sketches as motifs for paintings documents the fact that they were not intended only for the private context but served artistic purposes in the workshop, where they were used repeatedly for different purposes entirely unrelated to the identity of the original subject. 4.4

Van Dyck’s Children Portraits

It was not only Rubens who concerned himself with the task of painting children’s portraits, but also his fellow artist in Antwerp, Anthony van Dyck, who worked in Rubens’s workshop from 1618 to 1621, at a point in time when he had already gained the title of master painter. Van Dyck’s special gift of capturing a human personality and translating it into a painted likeness led him to con­centrate – unlike Rubens – almost exclusively on the portrait genre. The lifelike quality with which he rendered his subjects, especially children, is seen in the portrait of a woman and her child executed in around 1621.47 The child does not pose obediently on his mother’s lap, but turns away from the viewer. Its upward-stretched little arms and intent gaze reveal that its attention is being drawn so strongly by something invisible to the viewer that it forgets everything else that is happening around it. In 1621, Van Dyck set off for Italy where, like Rubens, he initially settled in Genoa. From there he travelled through Northern Italy and got as far as Rome. Above all the works of Titian, with their loose, free painting style, made a lasting impression on him. For the Genoese Cattaneo family he painted not only a portrait of the mother but also likenesses of her two children, Maddalena (Fig. 4.1) and Filippo.48 Particularly the portrait of the girl betrays affinities with works by Titian, as is evidenced by a comparison with the latter’s portrayal of Clarissa Strozzi of 1542.49 Van Dyck 47

48

49

London, The National Gallery (inv. no. NG 3011). The subjects depicted are identified with reservations as Maria Stappaert and Jan-Baptist Wildens; see Barnes et al. 2004, no. I.110. Washington, National Gallery of Art (inv. no. 1942.9.93 and inv. no. 1942.9.94). See Barnes et al. 2004, no. II. 36 and 37; Wheelock 2005, pp. 47–52; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 1. Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Gemäldegalerie. See Susan J. Barnes in Exh. Cat. Washington 1990, p. 170.

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convincingly portrays the childish timidity of the little Maddalena. The stiff, thick wool fabric of her white dress looks like a protective suit of armour encasing the small body. The tender, somewhat shy smile and the rather awkward gesture with which she clutches the apple further enhance the charming ­quality of the depiction. Characteristically, the significance of this child for her  family dynasty only become evident upon closer inspection. The costly cushion lies, neglected, on the floor, and the column otherwise included to ­emphasize the representative character of portraits has been relegated to the background. The apple, which alludes to fertility and thus symbolizes the family’s hopes of its continued existence, is likewise only discernible at second sight.50 The work is dominated by the credible depiction of the figure of a child. Looking to Peter Paul Rubens for orientation – in works painted during his stay in Genoa, the latter had been the first artist to introduce the motif of a terrace and thus a view of a landscape to portraits –,51 Van Dyck sometimes also supplemented his likenesses with natural scenes. The portrait of the Balbi children dating from around 1625–27 was groundbreaking in this respect, for here the children are no longer shown in a domestic environment, but entirely surrounded by nature.52 Only the two columns still allude to an architectural context. The children are correspondingly unconstrained: the eldest boy casually props his foot on a step, the middle brother gazes thoughtfully into the distance, and the youngest of the three grips his toy, a bird, so tightly that the latter is desperately flapping its wings. Van Dyck differentiated clearly between the different stages of development: already at the threshold to adulthood, the eldest stands a bit apart from his younger siblings. His luxurious costume is similar to the garments worn by adults and already indicates the high social status of the boy’s imminent patrician future. The soft curls and childish features of his younger brother leave no doubt about the fact that the latter is still a child. He affectionately embraces the younger one, who is not only wearing the little dress obligatory for boys and girls alike to the age of about three, but also holds the bird in a clumsy grip. Despite the precise rendition of the childish personalities, Van Dyck knew how to combine those personalities with the portrait’s representative function. The red-billed choughs at the lower right – a form of crow whose habitat is restricted to the 50 51

52

See Wheelock 2005, p. 50. As in the – meanwhile trimmed – portrait of Marchesa Brigida Spinola Doria (Washington, National Gallery, inv. no. 1961.9.60); see Wheelock 2005, pp. 154–59. On the development of this portrait type in the work of Rubens, see Müller Hofstede 1977, pp. 70–71. London, The National Gallery (inv. no. NG 6502). See Barnes et al. 2004, no. II.42; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 2.

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Alps – are likewise in keeping with this function. Heraldic meaning was attributed to this species, and scholars have accordingly assumed that it is not the children of the Balbi but those of the De Franchi family who are depicted here – the latter having a crow of this kind in their coat of arms.53 The bells on the foot of one of the birds, however, point to a different interpretation: they characterize the creatures as domesticated pets. Choughs are the only type of crow which can be tamed, and in the context of a depiction of children they therefore stand for the boys’ educability.54 At the same time, this species of crow was rare, their possession thus something affordable only by the wealthy and therefore to be equated with a status symbol. In 1632, Van Dyck settled in London permanently in the position of court painter to King Charles I. Here as well, he painted children. His portraits of the offspring of the English royal couple became quite well known. Even if the artist was much more strongly bound to the conventions of portraiture in this context, he nevertheless managed to bring out the children’s individual personalities. In the 1637 likeness of Charles I’s five eldest children, the disproportionately large dog next to Charles, the successor to the throne, shows how small the boy was at this point in time.55 A traditional symbol of faithfulness, the dog thus now also serves as a yardstick for the age of the still very young heir apparent, who nevertheless places his hand on the animal’s head in a dignified gesture of dominance. The scene on the right-hand edge of the picture is especially worthy of notice. One of the members of the royal offspring, little Anne, is covered only by a nappy. Kicking determinedly, she is also reaching out toward the dog with her hands. Her sister Elizabeth, only three years her senior, is holding her tightly with a gesture almost maternal and already pointing to her future obligations. There is an oil sketch of the two youngest royal children in Edinburgh, which Van Dyck used as a model for the later portrait as well as, possibly, for a likeness showing only the two sisters.56 Through the reduction of the children’s heads and the omission of decorative embellishment (except for the string of pearls), the subjects appear simply as children. Not tethered by the function of representation, Van Dyck concentrated on their faces and carried out an in-depth study of 53

54 55 56

See Exh. Cat. Genoa 1997, no. 61. Christopher Brown, on the other hand, identifies the birds as common ravens and thus opposes the identification with the children of the De Franchi family; see Exh. Cat. Antwerp and London 1999, p. 182. See Dittrich and Dittrich 2004, pp. 38–39. London, The Royal Collection. See Barnes et al. 2004, no. IV.62. Edinburgh, The Scottish National Portrait Gallery (PG 3010). See Barnes et al. 2004, no. IV.63.

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sibling affection which reveals nothing of the sitters’ future duties as members of the royal family. 4.5

The Development of Children Portraits in England: Van Dyck as a Norm

Van Dyck’s portraits of the royal children exerted a strong influence on pictorial tradition in England for decades to come. Even Van Dyck’s successors, Peter Lely and Godfred Kneller, adhered to this portrait type. At the same time, however, this pictorial convention underwent increasing standardization, as a result of which the portrayed children look more and more like miniature adults. The vibrant and natural quality that distinguishes Van Dyck’s portraits of children and can be traced back to his Netherlandish origins is no longer to be found in the works of his later successors. The “Glorious Revolution” of 1688 in England brought far-reaching political  change in its wake, but also social upheavals.57 In comparison to other European countries, England developed a wealthy class of citizens who defined themselves less by virtue of their aristocratic origins and their connections to the court than by their economic success and new cultural values.58 In around 1720, a new portrait form developed in England, the “conversation piece”, which drew from Netherlandish and French pictorial traditions. Characteristic of this type is the small scale of the figures in relation to the surrounding space. This permitted the depiction of landscapes or sumptuous interiors and frequently reflected the patron’s typical surroundings. An early example is the related pair of depictions of Children at Play by William Hogarth.59 At first sight, these paintings of the year 1730 look like genre scenes. Upon closer examination, however, the children’s faces prove to have individual traits. The two companion pieces were painted at different times, as we know from the urn in the second picture, indicating that one of the c­ hildren had meanwhile died. The combination of genre- and portrait-like ­elements is novel in these works: with the waving of his flag, the boy will soon cause the house of cards to collapse, and in the companion piece a dog is knocking down a doll table. Despite these lively motifs, however, the compositions still possess a relatively static quality. The children’s fashionable garb is reminiscent of the costumes worn by adults and leaves them no freedom of movement. 57 58 59

See Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, pp. 16–17. See Exh. Cat. London, 1987a, pp. 11–12 (Introduction). Cardiff, National Museum of Wales. See Exh. Cat. Bath and Kendal 2005, nos. 2 and 3.

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Johann Zoffany’s Sondes Children painted some thirty years later around 1764/65 documents the further development, for here the children already move about quite naturally and entirely at home in the landscape, presumably the park on their parents’ estate.60 The clothing is substantially more casual, and is also treated more negligently by the children: a hat is lying in the grass in the foreground. Now athletic games are the order of the day; the eldest boy is challenging the others to a round of cricket. The youngest brother feeds a squirrel, thus alluding to the children’s close ties with nature. The “conversation piece” was joined in the mid eighteenth century by the “grand manner”, represented primarily by Gainsborough and Reynolds.61 The latter picture type differed from the “conversation piece” – characterized, as it was, by the figures’ small scale – in that now large figures once again dominate their surroundings, which are of a representative nature. The painters of the “grand manner” deliberately drew from the style of Van Dyck, as is obvious when we compare the latter’s Maddalena Cattaneo (Fig.  4.1) with Joshua Reynolds’s Miss Crewe (Fig. 4.2) The other major exponent of the “grand manner” aside from Reynolds was Thomas Gainsborough, who likewise looked to Van Dyck for orientation. We see this, for example, if we juxtapose the Balbi Children with the portrait of Master John Truman-Villebois and His Brother Henry of ca. 1783.62 Once again, the children pose in front of a column, but the new developments are clearly evident in the cursory painting style as well as the casual clothing. Typical features are the hats dashed carelessly to the ground and the unbuttoned collars. Landscape also took on a new meaning, now reflecting the ideal of allowing children to grow up in freedom. Inspired by a treatise entitled “Some Thoughts Concerning Education” written by the English philosopher John Locke and published in 1693, modern forms of child-raising developed in the eighteenth century under the influence of the Enlightenment.63 Particularly after the publication of the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, children’s upbringing was seen in analogy to nature. Just in the same way that it became fashionable in landscaping to give a park as natural an appearance as possible and do without decoratively cropped and shaped trees, children were not to be subjected to strict drills but rather their natural qualities to be lovingly encouraged. Simplicity and naturalness were 60 61 62 63

Private collection. See Exh. Cat. London 1976, no. 27; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 5. See Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, pp. 18–19. Private collection. See Waterhouse 1958, p. 93, no. 675; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 10. See Overhoff and Schmitt 2007.

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the aspired ideals, expressed in the movement back to nature. In numerous prints, for example the engravings by Daniel Chodowiecki, modern child-­ raising was the theme.64 Chodowiecki’s depiction of the Stay-at-Home (Fig. 4.12), on the other hand, shows all the disadvantages of authoritarian education: with an almost threatening gesture, a strict teacher is prompting a little boy to read while the latter’s toys lie unused on the floor.65 Jean-Jacques Rousseau – whose Emile was the most important and path-breaking treatise on the ideal way of educating children – flatly rejected such ideas about discipline. In his opinion, children were to be given lots of scope for play, by means of which they would internalize nature and with it the world, the basis for their growing up to be morally upright, sensibly acting human beings.66 This was the period in which sport was discovered as part of education, for the healthy person was characterized by excellent physical condition.67 The youngest of the young play ball and ride their hobbyhorses – slowly and playfully growing their way into adulthood.

Figure 4.12 Daniel Chodowiecki, Fürtreffliche Bildung des Geistes und des Herzens oder “Der Stubenhocker” (Excellent Education of the Mind and Heart, or “The Stay-at-Home”), from the engraving series “ 12 Blätter zum Leben eines Lüderlichen” (Twelve Prints on the Life of a Sloven), 1774. 64 65 66 67

See the examples in Overhoff and Schmitt 2007, figs. 34–37. For a discussion of this, see Overhoff and Schmitt 2007, p. 61. See Rousseau 1762/1997, pp. 155–56. Also see Exh. Cat. Berkeley et al. 1995, p. 136. Exh. Cat. Berkeley et al. 1995, pp. 131–141.

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Children’s portraits came to be looked upon as an ideal medium for conveying the new notions while at the same time showing the openness of the patrons – the parents – to modern ideas. Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, was considered the most modern woman of her day. Contrary to the contemporary rules of propriety, she was active in politics and was accordingly often the target of harsh criticism from the conservative quarters of society. To counter her negative reputation, she had Reynolds portray her as a mother – not in a proud pose, however, but facing away from the viewer and entirely engrossed in affectionate play with her child.68 The scene clearly conveys the sentiment that child-raising is no longer the task of the domestic personnel, but of the parents themselves. The fact that sports and games were now considered a decisive element of children’s development is also reflected in portraits. In 1789, William Beechey depicted the Oddie Children playing with bows and arrows (Fig. 4.13).69 Not one of the subjects takes notice of the viewer except little Catherine, and she is crawling around in the dirt on her knees, quite out of keeping with her social status. Beechey perceptively captures childish traits such as the mischievousness of the boy, the awe-filled curiosity of his younger sister and the earnestness of his elder one which betrays her budding sense of responsibility. Comparison with Honthorst’s portrait of the Brothers van Tuyll van Serooskerken clearly

Figure 4.13 William Beechey, The Oddie Children, 1789, North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh.

68 69

Chatsworth, The Duke of Devonshire and the Trustees of the Chatsworth Settlement. See Mannings 2000, vol. 1, pp. 124–125, no. 329; Exh. Cat. Ferrara and London 2005, no. 29. Raleigh, North Carolina Museum of Art (inv. no. 52.9.65). See Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 12.

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indicates the change in conceptions about art, for now it is no longer necessary to legitimize the playful activities with references to antiquity. Not coincidentally, nature plays an important role: the depiction of the Sons of the First Earl of Talbot by Thomas Lawrence in the Neue Pinakothek (Fig. 4.14) shows the boys with their dogs in a vast park landscape,70 and the Children of Lord George Cavendish, likewise painted by Lawrence, are portrayed in a natural environment so wild as to be almost inaccessible. This environment presents the children with a challenge, and nature thus becomes their teacher, for the two brothers are holding on to their younger sister to keep her from slipping and falling in the rough terrain. The influence of the Enlightenment ebbed in the course of the nineteenth century. Now the preferred theme was no longer the wild, natural child, but the obedient, sheltered one. In conjunction with Romanticism, children came to be thought of as angelic creatures.71 Their world was consciously seen as an ideal one in contrast to that of adulthood. Children were now considered pure, innocent beings in the safety of a sheltered and protected child’s realm before being confronted with life as adults. Thomas Lawrence’s Calmady Children of 1823, deliberately modelled – formally speaking – after depictions of the Virgin Mary, illustrate this new perspective.72

Figure 4.14 Thomas Lawrence, The Sons of the First Earl of Talbot, ca. 1793, Bayerische Staats­gemäldesammlungen, Neue Pinakothek, Munich. 70 71 72

Munich, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Neue Pinakothek (inv. no. 14882). See Garlick 1989, no. 432. For a discussion of this, see Ewers 2007, pp. 54–57. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art (inv. no. 25.110.1). See Garlick 1989, no. 152; Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, no. 25.

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It was not by coincidence that the family portrait became very popular in this period. This is exemplified, for instance, by the portraits of the English royal family painted by Franz-Xaver Winterhalter in the mid nineteenth century. Queen Victoria and her husband were a ruling couple who lived and ­propagated family life according to bourgeois notions. The queen accordingly appears not only as a regent, but also as a mother. Dated 1846, the family portrait shows her and her husband, Prince Consort Albert, on the throne, but surrounded by their children.73 With its red drapery and landscape view, the portrait draws from representative formula already introduced by Van Dyck in his courtly portraits. The fact that Van Dyck continued to set standards is seen in another detail as well: the scene with the youngest offspring of the family under his older sisters’ affectionate gazes is a reminiscence of the portrait of the children of Charles I.74 This last example clearly indicates that the lifelike depiction of children coined by Dutch and Flemish pictorial traditions and transferred to English painting by Van Dyck was groundbreaking, and still of such validity in the nineteenth century that a motif introduced to courtly portrait painting by Van Dyck was once again put to use in 1846, i.e. two hundred years later. 73 74

London, The Royal Collection. See Millar 1992, no. 823. See Exh. Cat. London 1987b, p. 40 (Introduction).

Chapter 5

Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e: Scene Selection in the First Half of the Seventeenth Century*,† Yasuda Atsuo 5.1 Introduction: Ise monogatari-e and the Intimate Sphere Ise monogatari (Tales of Ise) has, along with Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji), long been recognized as one of the classics of Japanese literature. Indeed, Ise monogatari-e, pictorial representations whose subject matter comes from the Ise monogatari, are mentioned in the E-awase (Picture Competition) chapter of Genji. The earliest surviving examples of Ise monogatari-e are from the Kamakura period, the Ise monogatari emaki (Tales of Ise illustrated handscroll) in the collection of the Kuboso Memorial Museum of Arts in Izumi and the Bonjikyō zuri Ise monogatari emaki (Tales of Ise illustrated handscroll overstamped in Sanskrit) which is scattered among several private collections. From the Muromachi period on, Ise monogatari-e developed in a variety of ways, including the many illustrated printed versions whose publication thrived in the late Momoyama and Edo periods. This chapter focuses on examples from the first half of the seventeenth century, considering them in terms of how “the intimate sphere” which consists of private relations between men and women is depicted. I would like to begin by touching on my objective in addressing Ise monogatari-e in terms of this theme. The intimate sphere is a concept used primarily in sociology, where it is contrasted with “the public sphere.” In its strict, orthodox meaning, it refers to a * Translation from Japanese into English: Ruth S. McCreery. † An earlier version of this essay, “Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e: The Case of the Nijō Empress,” was presented at the symposium held at the Japan Art History Society’s 62nd Annual Congress, “Representation of Intimacy in Art,” May 23, 2009 at Kyoto University. Special thanks are owed to Nakabe Yoshitaka and the staff of the Museum Yamato Bunkakan for their assistance with my research on the Akutagawa scene in the sixth episode from The Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_006

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small family or household.1 When we apply this term, which is relatively unfamiliar in the context of art history, to works of art, in asking how the intimate sphere is depicted, the following perspective is indispensable: how do depictions in artworks reflect the concept of the intimate sphere in the era in which they were created? Like the society in which we find it embedded, the intimate sphere does not have a single, fixed form, and its relationship to the public sphere also differs from age to age. In our thinking about this topic, we must, then, consider two conditions in selecting works that can be approached by means of this theme. First, the relationships between the individuals depicted in the works must be clear. If a man and a woman are depicted, we must know if they are husband and wife, father and daughter, lovers, or a courtesan or prostitute and her customer. Second, the nature of the intimate sphere of the period in which the work is created must be clarified by social historians or historians of the family, at least to some extent. Relationships between husband and wife or parent and child vary throughout history and even in the same period, family structures may vary by social class. In the periods being considered in this chapter, the seventeenth century and earlier, only the familial relationships of aristocratic or upper-class warrior families are relatively clear. Since, in Ise monogatari-e, the images are all based on the text of the Ise monogatari, the relationships between the people depicted are clear. Our first condition is satisfied. To satisfy our second condition, I focus primarily on images in which the Nijō Empress, a daughter of the Sekkanke (the Fujiwara line of imperial regents and advisers) who became the Emperor’s consort, is depicted. The relationships depicted in the Ise monogatari-e occurred, however, before the Nijō Empress married and are love affairs, not relationships within the family or household framework. As noted above, the term “intimate sphere” usually refers to a small family or household. Here, however, the intimate sphere is conceived romantically, as a special sphere of intimacy created by bonds of love.2 “Intimate sphere” as understood here thus implies a romantic relationship that lasts for a certain period of time. 1 See Habermas 1962/1989/1994, chapter 2, “Social Structures of the Public Sphere,” section 6, “The Bourgeois Family and the Institutionalization of a Privateness Oriented to an Audience.” For “the intimate sphere,” see Saitō 2000, chapter 4, “Shinmitsuken/kōkyōken (Intimate sphere, public sphere)” and Inoue 2004. 2 “It seemed to be established voluntarily and by free individuals and to be maintained without coercion; it seemed to rest on the lasting community of love on the part of the

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Also, while Ise monogatari-e are based on the text of the Ise monogatari, how that text has been read has varied over time. In addition, as mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, Ise monogatari-e were also created prior to the seventeenth century, the period addressed here, and later artists referred to the earlier work. Those textual interpretations and pictorial traditions were, needless to say, deeply related to the choice of scenes from the Ise monogatari and to how they were depicted. The following discussion thus compares what is depicted in important Ise monogatari-e created in the first half of the seventeenth century with the text of the Ise monogatari and the commentaries on it. It also considers the influence of earlier works, particularly in the way in which scenes are depicted. Many of these issues have been clarified in earlier research. Building on that body of work, in this chapter I mainly examine the question of scene selection from the perspective of how family, marriage and romance were perceived and how those perceptions were reflected in the depictions being considered here. 5.2

Depiction of the Nijō Empress at the Beginning of the Early Modern Period, with a Focus on the Painting of the Akutagawa Episode Attributed to Sōtatsu

5.2.1 Ise monogatari and Ise monogatari-e Among the most significant Ise monogatari-e from the early Edo period are the album leaf paintings on shikishi, specially prepared square papers, attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu. Of them, forty-seven are known to survive, primarily in the collection that was handed down in the Masuda family.3 In recent years, two spouses; it seemed to permit that non-instrumental development of all faculties that marks the cultivated personality. The three elements of voluntariness, community of love, and cultivation were conjoined in a concept of the humanity that was supposed to inhere in humankind as such and truly to constitute its absoluteness.” Habermas 1962/1989/1994; especially Habermas 1989, pp. 46–47. 3 Yamane 1974. The 47 paintings’ owners and subject matter are as follows: 36 scenes formerly in the Masuda family collection: Episodes 1, 2, 5, 6 (two scenes, “Akutagawa” and “Ruined Storehouse”), 7, 8, 9 (“Mount Utsu,” “Mount Fuji,” and “Sumida River”), 12, 14, 24, 27, 37, 39, 45, 49, 50, 52, 56, 58, 63, 67, 68, 71, 72, 75, 78, 81 (two scenes), 88, 95, 98, and 121. Four scenes formerly in the Dan family collection: Episodes 23, 65 (“Ritual of Purification”), 82 (“Cherry Blossoms at the Lodge at Nagisa”), and 87 (“Nunobiki Falls”). Two scenes formerly in the Kishi family collection: Episodes 51 and 60. Four scenes formerly in the collection of Masuda Takiko: Episodes 4, 9 (“Mount Fuji”), 80, and 87 (“The Village of Ashiya”). One scene in the collection of the MOA Museum of Art: Episode 4. Each is color on paper, about 24.5 × 21.0 cm.

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Figure 5.1 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Sixth Episode “Akutagawa,” from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), The Museum Yamato Bunkakan, Nara ( formerly the Masuda Collection).

twelve more leaves, of a different type, have come to light.4 Both groups date from the second decade of the Kan’ei era (1633–1642) and are believed to be the work of Sōtatsu or the younger generation of artists in his studio. (For simplicity, they will be referred to collectively as the Sōtatsu version.) Among them, the painting that depicts episode 6, “Akutagawa” (Akuta River), is often pointed out to have been painted by Sōtatsu himself (Yamato Bunkakan Museum, formerly the Masuda Collection, Fig. 5.1). Looking at this image, we see, near the center, a man of the aristocracy in informal, kariginu, clothing. He is carrying on his back a woman wearing a kinu-kazuki cloak over her robes. The river is flowing in front of them. The man and woman are looking at each other, exchanging glances. The rocks behind them, which run from the right to the upper left of the image, semi-enclose the space in which the couple are located, adding to the intimacy of the scene. Dewy grass surrounds them, but the flaking and discoloration of the pigments makes that difficult to confirm. To explore the relationship of this painting to the text, let us compare what we see with what is written in the sixth episode of the Ise monogatari. The episode is as follows:5 4 Nakamachi 1992. The twelve scenes consist of episodes 2, 3, 6 (“Ruined Storehouse”), 9 (“Sumida River”), 50, 65 (“Ritual of Purification”), 73, 78, 80, 82 (“Cherry Blossoms at the Lodge at Nagisa”), and 98. Each is color on paper, about 24.0 × 21.0 cm. 5 For the text of the Ise monogatari, I have used the Horiuchi and Akiyama edition (Horiuchi and Akiyama 1997). The translator has referred to the translations of the Ise monogatari by

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Once there was a man who had, year after year, courted a woman who was quite inaccessible to him. At last he abducted her one night and led her to a river called the Akutagawa, where she saw dewdrops on the grass and asked him what they were. They had a long journey ahead, it was late at night, thunder was booming, and rain was pouring. He put her at the back of a dilapidated storehouse and stationed himself at its door, bow in hand and quiver on his back, never dreaming that a demon lived there. While he was longing for dawn, the demon swallowed her in one gulp. The thunder hid her scream of terror. When dawn came at last, he found that the lady was gone. Weeping in helpless grief, he said, Are those pearls I see? What then can they be? she cried— ah, that on the spot I had only answered, Dew! and as quickly disappeared6 It is said that while the woman who would become the Nijō Empress was in service at the residence of her cousin, the imperial consort, a man was enthralled by her beauty and carried her off on his back. Her older brothers, the Horikawa Minister and the Grand Counselor Kunitsune, who were both still very junior then, were at the Palace when they heard a woman wailing, stopped the man, and recovered their sister. They were the demon the author talks about above. Apparently she was then very young and still a commoner.7 Helen McCullough (McCullough 1968) and Joshua Mostow and Royall Tyler (Mostow and Tyler 2010) and Richard Bowring’s article on the cultural history of the Ise monogatari (Bowring 1992), among other sources. Of the sections of the text quoted in this chapter, three tanka translations (from episodes 6, 50, and 62) are quotations from Mostow and Tyler. 6 Mostow and Tyler 2010, p. 25. 7 むかし、おとこありけり。女のえ得まじかりけるを、年を経てよばひわたりけるを、からう じて盗み出でて、いと暗きに来けり。芥川といふ河を率ていきければ、草の上にをき たりける露を、「かれは何ぞ」となんおとこに問ひける。ゆくさき多く夜もふけにけれ ば、鬼ある所とも知らで、神さへいといみじう鳴り、雨もいたう降りければ、あばらなる 蔵に、女をば奥にをし入れて、おとこ、弓胡籙を負ひて戸口に居り、はや夜も明けな んと思つゝゐたりけるに、鬼はや一口に食ひてけり。「あなや」といひけれど、神鳴るさ はぎ にえ聞かざりけり。やうやう夜も明けゆくに、見れば、率て来し女もなし。足ずりを して泣けどもかひなし。 白玉かなにぞと人の問ひし時露とこたへて消えなましものを

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The calligraphy along the rocks in the painting is a quotation from the beginning of this episode: there was a man “who had, year after year, courted a lady who was quite inaccessible to him. At last he abducted her one night.”8 Episode 6 of the Ise monogatari thus consists of two sections that bracket the poem that begins with the words “Are those pearls I see?” The first section describes a man who is driven by love to abduct a woman of high status and to flee with her as far as the Akutagawa watercourse. There the woman sees the evening dew forming on the grass and asks what it is, but in his hurry to move on, the man does not answer her. The night was quite advanced when, to escape the heavy rain and lightning from a fierce storm, he hides the woman in a dilapidated storehouse and himself stands guard at the door. A demon, however, lives in the storehouse; it devours the woman in a single bite. The next morning, when the man looks for the woman inside the storehouse, she has disappeared. Distraught at her disappearance, he composes a poem regretting that he did not answer her question. The section that follows the poem takes the form of a commentary, often called the atogaki (afterword), on the events described in the previous section.9 There we learn that the young woman in question would later become the Nijō Empress. The man who attempted to carry her off on his back これは、二条の后のいとこの女御の御もとに、仕うまつるやうにてゐたまへりけるを、 かたちのいとめでたくおはしければ、盗みて負ひて出でたりけるを、御兄人堀河の大 臣、太郎国経の大納言、まだ下らうにて内へまいりたまふに、いみじう泣く人あるを聞 きつけて、とゞめてとりかへしたまうてけり。それを、かく鬼とはいふなりけり。まだいと若 うて、后のたゞにおはしける時とや。 8 「女のえうましかりけるを/としをへてよはい/わたりけるを/からうして/ぬすみて/いと/く らきに/来けり」 9 The atogaki 後書 is also referred to as the kōchū 後註 (after-commentary), kōjinchū 後人註 (commentary by posterity), danmatsu chūki 段末注記 (commentary at the end of the episode), or danmatsu fukachū 段末付加注 (commentary added to the end of the episode). As to when the atogaki in episodes 3, 5, and 6, for example, became part of the Ise monogatari text, Katagiri Yōichi has reported that they were not included in the original form of the Ise monogatari, from which poems were selected for the Kokin wakashū (Poems Ancient and Modern, the first imperial poetry collection), compiled in 905 (Engi 5). When these atogaki became part of the text is difficult to determine, but they are likely to date considerably after the Nijō Empress’ death in 910 (Engi 10), probably after the Tenryaku era (around 950) at the earliest. Atogaki did, however, exist by the time the Ōkagami (Great Mirror) was written in the eleventh century. See Katagiri 1968–1969, Kenkyū-hen, part 8 chapter 1; Katagiri 1987, part 2, chapter 1, etc. Seno’o Yoshinobu has also, working from the same point of view as Katagiri, concluded that the kōjinchū already existed and the Ise monogatari, with the kōjinchū, attained its full form when the Yamato monogatari (Tales of Yamato) was completed during the reign of the

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was intercepted by her two older brothers, who take her back. That, the second section asserts, is the true explanation of the event described as her having been devoured by a demon. Comparing the text to the image, we see that the man and woman beside the river are consistent with what we read in the first section of the text. That section of the text, however, states that the man led the woman to the river, i.e., took her there. It is not clear whether he carried her there, as depicted in the Sōtatsu version. The man’s carrying the woman on his back is mentioned only in the second section of the text, the atogaki. Also, in the first section of the text, the woman is only referred to as “a woman.” Her name is not mentioned. It is only in the atogaki that we learn that the woman in question would later become the Nijō Empress. Meanwhile, nowhere in the entire text are we told who the man was. Who, when this image was created, did they think he was? To learn that, we must now turn to the commentaries that have been written on the Ise monogatari. Commentaries on the Ise monogatari written before the Edo period are divided chronologically into three groups: ancient commentaries (kochū), old commentaries (kyūchū) and new commentaries (shinchū). The “ancient” commentaries include the Waka chikenshū (Commentary on Poems) and Reizei ke ryū kochū (Ancient Commentaries in the Reizei Family Style) compiled during the Kamakura period, which share the distinctive feature of attaching the names of real people to the individuals alluded to in the poems. As summarized in Table 5.1 at the end of this chapter, virtually all of the women are identified by name as, for example, the Nijō Empress, even when the original text contains no name.10 The male protagonist is identified as Ariwara no Narihira.

10

En’yū Emperor in the late 10th century. See Seno’o 2007, Ise monogatari hen, chapter 3: Ise monogatari no keisei katei to danmatsu chūki 「『伊勢物語』の形成過程と段末注記」 (“The Process of Formation of the Ise monogatari and the Danmatsu chūki”), of which the first edition was published in 1999. Table  5.1 at the end of this chapter indicates the names assigned to the “woman” in each episode. The table is based on the “Table of comparisons of scenes” in Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen, Katagiri 1968–1969, and my own research. The entries in the “‘Woman’ in each episode” column state how the woman who is the major figure in each episode of the Ise monogatari is referred to in the text. Chikenshū/ Reizei Family Commentaries in the next column refers to the Waka chikenshū and the Reizei ke ryū kochū, respectively. Shōmonshō/Ketsugishō refers to the Ise monogatari shōmonshō and the Ise monogatari ketsugishō, respectively. The entries in the columns under those headings state who the “woman” in each episode is identified as in those commentaries.

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Criticisms of the “ancient” commentaries for making preposterous claims are found in the (more recent) “old” commentaries, from the later Muromachi through the Momoyama periods, such as Ichijō Kanera’s Ise monogatari gukenshō (Humble Opinions concerning the Ise monogatari), Botanka Shōhaku’s Ise monogatari shōmonshō (Annotations on the Ise monogatari heard from Sōgi by Shōhaku, hereafter Shōmonshō), in which the author records the views of Sōgi, and, in the same vein, Hosokawa Yūsai’s Ise monogatari ketsugishō (Decisive Notes on the Ise monogatari, hereafter Ketsugishō), a compilation of the Sanjōnishi family commentaries.11 In those sources, while the man continues to be identified as Ariwara no Narihira, the woman is named only when the text actually contains an indication of who she might be. The “new” commentaries, written by the kokugakusha (scholars of national learning), who were associated with the rise of cultural nationalism at that time, date from well after the early Edo period. Well-known examples of their commentaries include the Seigo okudan (Conjecture on the Ise monogatari) by Keichū, the Ise monogatari dōjimon (Commentaries on the Ise monogatari: Answering a Child’s Questions) by Kada no Azumamaro, and the Ise monogatari koi (Ancient Taste of the Ise monogatari) by Kamo no Mabuchi.12 They thus postdate the Sōtatsu paintings. The “old” Ketsugishō and Shōmonshō commentaries were still being published in moveable type and woodblock print editions from the late Keichō era (1596–1615) through the Kan’ei era (1624–1644).13 It thus seems likely that the Sōtatsu version is in agreement with the interpretations in the “old” commentaries, with man on whose back the Nijō Empress was carried is identified as Ariwara no Narihira. 5.2.2 Connections to Earlier Works Now let us, with the sixth or “Akutagawa” episode as our example, turn to a brief consideration of the relation of Sōtatsu’s depictions to those in earlier works. 11

The widely circulated revised version of Ichijō Kanera’s Ise monogatari gukenshō was completed in 1474. The first edition of Botanka Shōhaku’s Ise monogatari shōmonshō dates from 1477, the revised version from 1480, and the third, revised edition from 1491. Hosokawa Yūsai’s Ise monogatari ketsugishō dates from 1596. Katagiri 1968–1969 is a reference for the “ancient” and “old” commentaries on the Ise monogatari, here and below. 12 Keichū’s Seigo okudan was completed in the autumn of 1692 (Genroku 5), Kada no Azumamaro’s Ise monogatari dōjimon in the Kyōhō era (1716–1736), and Kamo no Mabuchi’s Ise monogatari koi in about 1753 (Hōreki 3). 13 The Ise monogatari shōmonshō was published as a Sagabon, using wooden moveable type, in 1609 (Keichō 14), just as the Sagabon edition of the Ise monogatari itself was published the year before. The Ise monogatari ketsugishō was published in a edition printed using wooden moveable type in 1567 (Keichō 2), in moveable type editions in the Genna era

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In the previous section, we noted that the “old” commentaries on the Ise monogatari were still being published in the first half of the seventeenth century. Those commentaries, however, are not the only relevant documents. From this period onward, far and away more editions of the Ise monogatari with illustrations were published than were commentaries. The illustrated editions were, in fact, Edo period bestsellers. The lead event in that development was the publication of what became the model for later illustrated editions, a Sagabon edition of the Ise monogatari in 1608 (Keichō 13).14 Let us compare the Sōtatsu version of episode 6, “Akutagawa,” with the Sagabon version, which was published about three decades earlier (Fig. 5.2). Several differences are obvious: in the Sagabon illustration, there is a willow tree beside the river, Narihira is barefoot, the Nijō Empress is not wearing a cloak, and the man and woman have their faces close together but are not looking at each other. In both versions, however, Narihira is shown carrying the Nijō Empress on his back. Can we infer, then, that images of Narihira carrying the Nijō Empress on his back illustrating the Akutagawa episode first appeared in the first half of the seventeenth century? First, we must look at even earlier works. For surviving

Figure 5.2 Anonym, Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

14

(1615–1624) and Kan’ei era (1624–1644), and in woodblock print editions in 1634 (Kan’ei 11) and 1642 (Kan’ei 19). Katagiri 1981.

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examples of Ise monogatari-e that contain more than a few scenes, this chapter focuses on a copy of an Ihon Ise monogatari emaki (Alternative version of Tales of Ise illustrated handscroll) regarded as based on an original dating back to the Kamakura period, in the collection of the Tokyo National Museum (hereafter the Ihon Ise monogatari emaki), as well as on the following works produced in and after the Muromachi period that include all or almost all of the episodes: the Ise monogatari zue (Illustrated Tales of Ise) in the British Library (the British Library version), the Ise monogatari emaki (Tales of Ise illustrated handscroll) in the Ono family collection (the Ono Collection version), the Ise monogatari ehon (Tales of Ise picture book) in the Nakao family collection (the Nakao Collection version). These three are all thought to date from the latter half of the Muromachi period. In addition, the Ise monogatari ehon (Tales of Ise picture book) thought to date from the late Keichō era in the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin (the Chester Beatty Library version) is another useful example for our research.15 Here I will compare the scenes in the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions with those that appear in these other sources. Depictions of episode 6 in the Ihon Ise monogatari emaki (Fig.  5.3), the British Library version, and the Ono Collection version (Fig.  5.4) show

Figure 5.3 Anonym, Sixth Episode, from Alternative Version of the Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll, 1838 (Tenpō 9), copy based on original dating back to the Kamakura period, Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo. 15

In addition to the illustrations in the Sagabon Ise monogatari, the album leaves attributed to Sōtatsu, and three scrolls of the Ihon Ise monogatari emaki in the collection of the Tokyo National Museum, said to be a copy made in 1838 (Tempō 9) by Kanō Seisen’in Osanobu or others in his studio of an original dating back to the Kamakura period, this chapter discusses the following Ise monogatari-e: A. The Ise monogatari zue in the British

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Figure 5.4 Anonym, Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll, Ono Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

Narihira carrying the empress on his back, as described in the atogaki for that episode. Only two or three examples, including the Nakao Collection version, follow the text of the first half of the episode by showing the couple walking together. It is clear, in other words, that the depiction of Narihira carrying the empress on his back became fixed at an early period, in a form that both the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions continue. The Sōtatsu version and the Ihon Ise monogatari emaki are also similar in that, in both, the bank of the watercourse is free of trees and the empress is depicted as wearing a cloak. We thus infer that the Sōtatsu version was created based on the Ihon Ise monogatari emaki.16



16

Library, color on paper, three volumes (originally a handscroll), latter half of the Muromachi period (latter half of the sixteenth century); B. The Ise monogatari emaki in the Ono family collection, color on paper, three scrolls, latter half of the Muromachi period (latter half of the sixteenth century); C. The Ise monogatari ehon in the Nakao family collection, color on paper, four volumes (bound book format), latter half of the Muromachi period (sixteenth century); D. The Chester Beatty Library Ise monogatari ehon, color on paper, three volumes, late Keichō era (1596–1615). For the dating of versions A, B, C, and D, I have followed Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen; see it for the dimensions of each version and other details. Yamane 1974.

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5.2.3 Depictions of the Nijō Empress Thus far we have focused mainly on the painting of the sixth episode, “Akutagawa,” attributed to Sōtatsu. Turning now to the question of how the Nijō Empress is represented, we examine other episodes. As previously noted, the painting of the “Akutagawa” episode attributed to Sōtatsu is one of forty-seven album leaves handed down mainly in the Masuda family. Since the forty-seven paintings include two versions each of episode 4, “Western Wing,” and episode 9, “Mount Fuji,”17 we thus know that they originally were part of more than one series of paintings. It is unclear whether all the episodes in the original series of paintings have survived. Thus, in this section, we will consider the set of forty-seven album leaves attributed to Sōtatsu and the twelve newly discovered paintings attributed to him (collectively, the Sōtatsu version) and the Sagabon illustrations in exploring how the Nijō Empress was represented at the beginning of the early modern period. As Table 5.1 indicates, in the entire text of the Ise monogatari, including the atogaki, only four episodes mention the Nijō Empress by name: episode 6, as discussed above, and episodes 3, 5, and 76. By contrast, the text of episode 4, for example, only states that “A person lived in the western wing of the Empress Dowager’s residence in the eastern Fifth Ward.”18 The lady in question is not named. The “old” commentaries, including both the Shōmonshō and Ketsugishō, do, however, identify her as the Nijō Empress. Similarly, the women who are introduced in episode 26 as “A woman living in the Fifth Ward,”19 in episode 29 as “Mother of the Crown Prince,”20 and in episode 65 as “A lady the Emperor favored and permitted to wear the forbidden colors”21 are also identified as the Nijō Empress in those commentaries. Of course, even when the Nijō Empress or someone who might be her appears in an episode, including her in an illustration of that episode could sometimes have been difficult. Neither episode 26 nor 76 is depicted in either the Sōtatsu version or the Sagabon illustrations. Contrary to what one might expect, only male figures are shown in those illustrations of episode 4 (Fig. 5.5), episode 5, and episode 29 (Fig. 5.6); the Nijō Empress does not appear. Consider, for example, episode 5, in which the master of the household, who has heard that Narihira has been slipping in to meet the future Nijō Empress through a broken place in the wall, has posted a guard every night. Narihira, 17 18 19 20 21

See note 3, above. 「東の五条に大后の宮おはしましける。西の対に住む人有けり。」 「五条わたりなりける女」 「春宮の女御の御方」 「おほやけ思して使うたまふ女」

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Figure 5.5 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Fourth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), MOA Museum of Art, Atami.

Figure 5.6 Anonym, Twenty-Ninth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

having become unable to meet her, composes a poem in which he describes his feelings. She is so distraught upon reading it that her guardian relents and allows Narihira to visit her. Nonetheless, the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon illustrations (Figs. 5.7 and 5.8) show the wall and the men inside and outside the gate. In this case, depicting the future empress waiting inside the palace might have

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Figure 5.7 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Fifth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), private collection.

Figure 5.8 Anonym, Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

been more appropriate as an illustration of this episode than showing her brothers guarding her, as the Sōtatsu version does.22 22

According to the diagram comparing scenes in the Exh. Cat. Izumi 2007, for episode 5, the Ise monogatari emaki in the Kokugakuin University library collection (Momoyama period, latter half of the sixteenth century) depicts a woman, apparently the Nijō Empress, inside the palace.

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For episode 65, both the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon depictions (Figs. 5.9 and 5.10) show Narihira, distressed by being so besotted with the Nijō Empress, so favored by the Emperor, on the bank of a river. There a diviner is performing a rite of purification to exorcise Narihira’s passion. At the end of this episode, however, is the scene in which Narihira, banished by the Emperor, who had heard of his scandalous behavior, stands outside the storehouse in which the

Figure 5.9 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), TOREK Collection, place unknown.

Figure 5.10 Anonym, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

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Figure 5.11 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Third Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, New-discovered version, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), private collection.

Nijō Empress has been shut up, playing his flute for her. He was traveling there every night from his place of banishment. As we shall see later, the depictions of this episode in the Ono Collection and Nakao Collection versions, which are thought to date from the latter half of the Muromachi period, show not only the scene in which Narihira tries to have his passion exorcised but also Narihira and his beloved in this final scene. By contrast, the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions depict only the exorcism scene from episode 65, even though they do include multiple scenes from the same episode in other cases. Similarly, in images of episode 3, “Seaweed” (Figs.  5.11 and 5.12), in which Narihira gave the Nijō Empress a poem with some seaweed, we see only the lady, in her quarters in the palace, receiving the poem sent to her. Narihira does not appear. In sum, the only instance in which the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon version show Narihira and the Nijō Empress together is their depictions of the sixth, “Akutagawa,” episode. Why are they not shown together in other episodes? Conversely, why are images of episode 6 the only ones in which they are shown not only together but in an intimate manner? 5.3

Scene Selection in Ise monogatari-e: Paintings and Their Social Context

The two questions raised at the end of the previous section concerning the depiction of the Nijō Empress in the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions

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Figure 5.12 Anonym, Third Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

point to the more general problem of scene selection in Ise monogatari-e. In this section, I will continue to address this larger question while examining earlier works. 5.3.1 Scenes Depicting Aristocratic Women What scenes were selected for depiction in Ise monogatari-e prior to the late Momoyama-early Edo period (first half of the seventeenth century), when the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions were created? As mentioned above, no scenes showing Narihira and the Nijō Empress together can be found in the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions apart from episode 6, “Akutagawa.” Let us consider why by comparing scene selection in the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions to that of earlier works created before the Momoyama period. In the right-hand columns of Table  5.1, circles indicate scenes from Ise  ­monogatari-episodes that are depicted in the British Library (A), Ono ­Collection (B), Nakao Collection (C), Chester Beatty Library (D), Sagabon (E), and Sōtatsu (F) versions of the Ise monogatari-e.23 As indicated above, 23

A triangle in the F (Sōtatsu album leaves) column indicates scenes found only in the twelve paintings that have recently come to light. A triangle has been inserted in the A (British Library) and B (Ono Collection) column for episode 28 because, in addition to the view that the scene of a man scooping up water with both hands to let the woman drink it is based on the poem in that episode, there is a strong argument that this

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the depiction of the “Akutagawa” scene had become codified prior to the Muromachi period. Table  5.1, however, shows us that some scenes were frequently included in Ise monogatari-e while others were not. It suggests that the choice of which scenes and episodes to be depicted had a tendency to become codified as well. Moreover, some that were frequently depicted in the Momoyama period and earlier were not included in the Sagabon and Sōtatsu versions. These include episode 53, the “Man Playing Flute” scene in episode 65, episodes 66, 76, 77, the “I must be dreaming” scene in episode 83, and episodes 94 and 100. Why does the selection of scenes in the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions differ from that in Ise monogatari-e prior to the Momoyama period? Among the episodes mentioned above, episode 65 with its “Man Playing Flute” scene and episode 76 concern the Nijō Empress but were not included in the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions. In the case of the “Man Playing Flute” scene from episode 65, the Chester Beatty Library version, which is regarded as dating from about the same period as the Sagabon, depicts only Narihira playing his flute. In contrast, the British Library version, the Ono Collection version (Fig.  5.13), and the Nakao Collection version (Fig.  5.14), all of which date from the latter half of the Muromachi period, depict this scene by showing both Narihira playing his flute outside the wall and the Nijō Empress, confined in the storehouse, listening to him. In the case of episode 76, in which the Nijō Empress is making a pilgrimage to the Ōharano Shrine and distributing

illustrates not an episode from the version of the Ise monogatari text edited by Fujiwara Teika but from the “Waters of the Sekai well” episode, which is found only in the expanded texts. See Itō 1984; Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen. In addition, according to the Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen and other sources, the British Library and Ono Collection versions correspond closely in terms of the scenes chosen and the style; while one is probably not a direct copy of the other, they are regarded as works belonging to the same lineage and were probably based on a common ancestor. Other members of that lineage include the Seikadō Bunko’s Ise monogatari ehon (mid to late Muromachi period), the Tesshinsai Bunko’s Ise monogatari ehon, Kō version (late Muromachi to Momoyama period) and its Otsu version (first half of the Edo period), and the Sackler Museum at Harvard University’s Ise monogatari emaki, versions A and B (both latter half of the Muromachi period). Versions of Ise monogatari emaki from this lineage were apparently the most widely circulated in the Muromachi through early Edo periods. In view of their currency, I have included the British Library and Ono Collection version in Table  5.1. For details of the Seikadō Bunko version, Aoki 2008 and Aoki 2009 were consulted; for the Kō and Otsu versions of the Tesshinsai Bunko version, the essay by Katagiri Yōichi in the Exh. Cat. Odawara 2000 was also consulted.

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Figure 5.13 Anonym, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll, Ono Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

Figure 5.14 Anonym, Sixty-Fifth Episode, from Tales of Ise Picture Book, Nakao Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

gifts to those accompanying her, Narihira is described as receiving his gift directly from the Empress’s ox cart. Both the British Library version and the Ono Collection version (Fig. 5.15) show the ox cart in which she rode, but the depiction of old man said to be Narihira is not clear. In contrast, the Nakao Collection version (Fig. 5.16) clearly shows both the ox cart and Narihira receiving his gift. If we turn to the text and commentaries in search of references to the relationship of Narihira to the Nijō Empress in these two scenes, we find that in episode 65, Narihira has been banished because of his love for the Empress, yet, unable to rid himself of his obsession, he still returns from his place of banishment every night to play his flute for her. In episode 76, Narihira’s poem,

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Figure 5.15 Anonym, Seventy-Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll, Ono Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

Figure 5.16 Anonym, Seventy-Sixth Episode, from Tales of Ise Picture Book, Nakao Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

Noble Ōhara where surely Mount Oshio today of all days remembers what happened long ago in the age of the gods24 is only superficially a reference to the glory days of the Fujiwara family. Both the Shōmonshō and Ketsugishō commentaries see in this poem an allusion to Narihira’s former relationship with the Empress.25 In other words, episode 76 24 「大原や小塩の山もけふこそは神世のことも思出づらめ」 25 The Shōmonshō concludes at the end of its commentary on the poem by Narihira in episode 76 that “In his heart of hearts, he was alluding to having met the Nijō Empress by using the phrase ‘the age of the gods,’ referring to their affair in the past.” 「下の心 は、二条后に逢たてまつりし事を、神代の事もとはいへり。むかしの事というこゝろ なり。」 The Ketsugishō’s commentary on the same episode is “At bottom, he is asking the Nijō Empress if she remembers that he had visited her when she was still a commoner.” 「底には、二条后のたゞ人の御時、参通せし事を覚しめしいだすやと云心 也。」

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is a scene depicting the old love affair between Narihira and the Empress that was still active in episode 65. Apart from these episodes, we have depictions of the harbor at Naniwa described in episode 66, the Buddhist memorial service at Anjōji in episode 77, and the “I must be dreaming” scene in episode 83, in which Narihira visits a prince whom he once closely served and who has retired from the world, that is, has become a Buddhist monk, and is now lonely at New Year’s. In episode 94, we have a depiction of a woman referred to a “painter” creating a picture as well as of a man carrying a branch of cherry blossoms, as referred to in the poem she composes. The text of episode 53 relates that the man has finally managed to meet a “woman difficult to meet,” and they talk until dawn. Both the British Library version (Fig.  5.17) and the Ono Collection version (Fig.  5.18) show the man and woman on such intimate terms that they appear to be embracing each other. In episode 100, a man is described as receiving a sprig of wasuregusa, “forgetting-grass,” thrust at him from the apartment of a high-ranking lady. The poem he composed in response reads,

Figure 5.17 Anonym, Fifty-Third Episode, from Illustrated Tales of Ise, British Library version, late 16th century, The British Library, London.

Figure 5.18 Anonym, Fifty-Third Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll, Ono Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

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Forgetting-grass: though it may overgrow the fields this is the herb of remembrance sweet memories I treasure And long for more.26 The message it conveys is, “I trust that you too are thinking of me.” The illustrations in the British Library version and the Ono Collection version (Fig. 5.19) show the man and woman face-to-face through the blinds. In the Nakao Collection version (Fig. 5.20), we see the man receiving the wasuregusa thrust at him from behind latticed shutters. That is, both episodes 53 and 100 describe love affairs between Narihira and high-ranking women. Our study thus far has revealed that Ise monogatari-e created in or before the Momoyama era contain scenes not found in the Sōtatsu paintings or the Sagabon illustrations. These include scenes from episode 53, the “Man playing a flute” scene in episode 65, and episodes 76 and 100, all of which clearly depict love affairs between Narihira and either the Nijō Empress or other high-ranking women. As previously noted, in the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions, Narihira and the Empress are depicted together in only one episode, episode 6, “Akutagawa.” Although scenes from several episodes involving love affairs between Narihira and the Nijō Empress or other highranking women were often depicted up until the Momoyama period, only one, the Akutagawa scene in episode 6, was chosen for depiction in the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions.

Figure 5.19 Anonym, Hundredth Episode, from Tales of Ise Illustrated Handscroll, Ono Collection version, late 16th century, private collection. 26

「忘草生ふる野べとは見るらめどこは忍ぶなり後もたのまん」

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Figure 5.20 Anonym, Hundredth Episode, from Tales of Ise Picture Book, Nakao Collection version, late 16th century, private collection.

5.3.2 Scene Selection, Commentary, and Social Context Why, then, did the differences in scene selection confirmed in the previous section occur? The answer may be related to the result of research on the history of commentaries on the Ise monogatari, which has indicated that differences existed between the “ancient” and the “old” commentaries in how the tales were read and interpreted. We have already noted, in discussing the relationship between Ise monogatari-e and the commentaries, that the paintings attributed to Sōtatsu appear to have followed the interpretations in the “old” commentaries such as the Shōmonshō and Ketsugishō. The Sagabon version also can be determined to have been based on the “old” commentaries, given that Nakanoin Michikatsu, who revised its text, wrote the okugaki or postscripts to the Shōmonshō and Ketsugishō.27 In contrast, the names inscribed in the Nakao Collection version are known to be consistent with the “ancient” commentaries and, in most 27 The Ise monogatari ketsugishō transcribed by Hōgen Yūkō in 1614 (Keichō 19, published in the Shiryō-hen of Katagiri 1968–1969) and a woodblock printed version from 1642 (Kan’ei 19, published in Horiuchi and Akiyama 1997) include the okugaki written by Nakanoin Michikatsu in 1597 (Keichō 2). The Ise monogatari shōmonshō published in the Zoku g­ unsho ruijū (The Collection of Various Books according to Their Categories), volume 514, includes the okugaki written by Nakanoin Michikatsu in 1609 (Keichō 14) of the Keichō moveable type edition.

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cases, with the Ancient Commentaries in the Reizei Family Style.28 For example, in episode 100 (Fig.  5.20), mentioned above, we find, between the man and woman, the inscription “nichiu no kisaki yori” (“from the Nijō Empress”), although the text identifies her only as “a high-ranking lady,”29 no names are mentioned, and the “old” commentaries also say “no one in particular,”30 not specifying a name. The inscription on this painting itself thus agrees with the identification of the lady as the Nijō Empress in the Ise monogatari ōhisho (The Esoterica of the Tales of Ise) and other commentaries from the latter half of the Muromachi period, which add their own notes to the “ancient” Waka chikenshō and the Ancient Commentaries in the Reizei Family Style. Meanwhile, the British Library and Ono Collection versions do not have inscriptions giving the names of the characters shown in the illustrations. It is thus impossible to conclude that they, like the Nakao Collection version, followed the ancient commentaries. It is known, however, that the “ancient” commentaries continued to be strongly influential until the middle of the Muromachi period. In fact, Noh plays based on the Ise monogatari, including Izutsu (Curb of a well), Unrin’in (Unrin’in Temple) and Kakitsubata (Water iris), followed the “ancient” commentaries.31 We know, too, that during the latter half of the Muromachi period, when Sōgi and his followers were developing their interpretations, which differ from the “ancient” commentaries, the Nakao Collection version, which dates from the same period, continued to follow the “ancient” commentaries. It thus seems likely that commentaries like the Shōmonshō, in the manner of Sōgi and his school, had not yet become widely diffused during the latter half of the Muromachi period. I would thus conclude that the British Library and Ono Collection versions were also created based on the “ancient” commentaries.32 How, then, are differences in interpretation between the “ancient” and “old” commentaries reflected in the scenes selected, in each period, for Ise 28

29 30 31 32

Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen. See also Katagiri’s “Kaidai” (“Bibliographical Introduction”) in Katagiri and Yamamoto 2004. 「あるやむごとなき人」 「誰ともなし」 Katagiri 1968–1969, Kenkyū-hen; Katagiri 1975; Katagiri 1987. As pointed out in note 23, above, the British Library and Ono Collection versions belong to the same lineage; the Seikadō Bunko version, also of the same lineage, is regarded as dating from the mid to late Muromachi period. If we follow that interpretation, then their common ancestor must have been created prior to the mid Muromachi period. It is clear that the selection of scenes and their iconography in the British Library and Ono Collection versions are in accord with the “ancient” commentaries.

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Monogatari-e? According to research on the commentaries by scholars of Japanese literature,33 the “ancient” commentaries assume that the tales in the Ise monogatari are based on the life of an actual historical figure, Ariwara no Narihira, and that all the episodes have some basis in fact. The commentaries do not, however, regard them as straightforward reports of events as they actually occurred but see the facts as mingled with fiction and narrated in a somewhat disguised form. The distinctive feature of these commentaries is, then, their attempt to clarify the facts in the background behind each episode. The attempt to provide the names of each of the individuals portrayed in the episode who are not named in the text is one example. Their interpretations may be somewhat forced, however, because these commentators regard the background to the tales as facts relating to Narihira, albeit superficially presented as fiction. They understand the Ise monogatari as a roman à clef delineating the life of the flirtatious, sensual Narihira. While continuing, as the “ancient” commentaries did, to portray the Ise monogatari as a fictional account of the life of Narihira, the “old” commentaries adopt a different approach in interpreting the tales.34 For example, the male protagonist referred to in the text only as “a man” continues to be identified as Narihira. But no effort is made, as in the “ancient” commentaries, to establish strong connections between that character and the actual Ariwara no Narihira. The “old” commentaries’ Narihira is a fictional Narihira that the author of the Ise monogatari modeled on the actual Narihira; that fictional Narihira is described as a young nobleman at the Imperial court. In other words, while the tales incorporate poems composed by the actual Narihira, the tales themselves are fiction, according to those commentaries. No effort is made to follow the “ancient” commentaries in trying to discover the facts concealed in the tales. Instead, the fundamental approach of the “old” commentaries is to focus on appreciating the feelings, the sensibility in the profoundly elegant, graceful tales themselves. Among the “old” commentaries, especially in the commentaries by Sōgi and of the Sanjōnishi family style derived from his work, including the Shōmonshō and the Ketsugishō, the Narihira portrayed as the protagonist of the tales is thought to be constructed as a yūgen (subtle and profound) character. This subtle and profound Narihira is noted for  the delicate sensibility, consideration, and profound sensitivity that constitute his essential nature. In contrast, Ki no Aritsune’s daughter, who was  thought to have been Narihira’s wife, is portrayed as a virtuous, faithful  woman who embodies the essence of what the ideal woman should be. 33 34

Katagiri 1968–1969, Kenkyū-hen; Katagiri 1975; Katagiri 1987; Yamamoto 2001. Yamamoto 2001; Aoki 1984; Ōtani 2006; Unno 2009.

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The image of Narihira in the Sōgi and Sanjōnishi commentaries, unlike the “ancient” commentaries, emphasizes, in other words, his ethical character, without, however, entirely denying his amorousness. In that emphasis and in treating the virtuous, chaste woman as the ideal of femininity, the “old” commentaries are distinguished by a didactic quality grounded in Confucian morality. Among the factors in the social context that have been pointed out as possible causes of the differences in interpretation between the “ancient” and “old” commentaries are an expanded stratum of those who read and enjoyed the Ise monogatari as well as changes in views of family and marriage related to the inheritance system.35 During the Heian period, when the tales were compiled, the only audience for literature was the aristocracy. During Japan’s middle ages, especially during the Muromachi period, literacy and a love of poetry spread to the warrior class, and, in the latter half of the Muromachi period, Sōgi and his followers even made frequent trips to places outside the capital where poetry enthusiasts were to be found. Also, during the middle ages, it became customary in the ruling class for the ie (family, household) to be treated as a unit in which a legitimate male heir would inherit the family occupation and estate. A patriarchal system and the status of the legal wife were established, premarital love affairs were restricted, and a marriage could only be legitimized with the father’s permission.36 In the latter half of the Muromachi period, when the “old” commentaries were compiled, the ideal of marriage between one man and one woman and inheritance by a single heir had become firmly rooted. One powerful example of these views of family and marriage at that time is the eleven points of advice Sanjōnishi Sanetaka gave his daughter upon her marriage.37 The first cited the Confucian maxim that a wise minister does not serve two lords:

35 36 37

Aoki 1984. Fukutō 1991; Fukutō 1995; Gotō 2002; Tabata and Hosokawa 2002; Nagahara 2002; Sakata 2002; Gotō 2009. Kana kyōkun (Teachings Written in the Hiragana Syllabary), published in Zoku gunsho ruijū (The Collection of Various Books according to Their Categories), volume 946. The quotations are also from that source. The Kana kyōkun had been, according to the Gunsho kaidai (Bibliographical Notes on Various Books), vol. 8, regarded as a Muromachi period (late fifteenth to mid sixteenth century) guide to moral teachings for women (Zoku gunsho ruijū kanseikai 1961). But Itō Kei has demonstrated that it was a letter written by Sanjōnishi Sanetaka for his daughter on her marriage into a Sekkanke family. See Itō 1971. For the relationship between the Kana kyōkun and the “old” commentaries on the Ise monogatari, see Aoki 1984.

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Just as a wise minister does not serve two lords, a virtuous woman does not serve two husbands. If you take this maxim to heart day and night…38 It tells us that teachings rooted in Confucian morality had spread beyond the warrior class to the aristocracy as well. In the early modern period, an effort was made to establish such moral teachings more broadly and firmly through both law and moral instruction for women. Documents from about 1700 clearly show this tendency, though it is somewhat later than the first half of the seventeenth century when the Sagabon version was published and the paintings attributed to Sōtatsu were created. In legal decisions from the Jōkyō and Genroku eras (1684–1688 and 1688–1704), we find examples stating that a child’s marriage required a parent’s permission, that spouses in a common-law marriage concluded without the parents’ permission were not legally recognized as husband and wife, and that wives must obey their husbands.39 In Kaibara Ekiken’s Wazoku dōji kun (Precepts for Japanese Children) which was published in 1710 (Hōei 7), the fifth volume, “How to educate girls,” presented a theory of how women should be educated based on his reading of the Chinese classics and Chinese writings instructing women on how to behave.40 Summarizing the parts of that volume relevant to our discussion, we find Kaibara writing that girls should be taught kana and kanji from the age of seven and that they should be “instructed in how to be elegant through frequent exposure to ancient poetry free of erotic content.”41 They should be taught “the way of filial piety, obedience, chastity, and purity,”42 learn the arts of spinning, weaving and sewing, and not be allowed to learn popular songs (kouta), dramatic recitations (jōruri), or shamisen, lest licentious sounds pollute the purity of their hearts. Care should also be taken in selecting books for them. “The Ise monogatari, Genji monogatari and their ilk have a certain literary elegance, but they describe licentious behavior to which women should not be exposed in their childhood.”43 38 39 40

41 42 43

「賢臣は二君につかえず、貞女両夫にまみえずとのことはりを朝夕心にかけ給は ば、(略)。」 「夫ニ順ひ候身分」 Ôtake 2002. 「女子を教ゆる法」, Ishikawa 1977. The source for the Wazoku dōji kun here and below is the 1710 (Hōei 7) edition included in Koizumi 2003. For punctuation marks in the text, see Ishikawa 1997. The parts of volume 5 of the Wazoku dōji kun related to this essay are found in Koizumi 2003, pp. 225–228 and 240–243. 「淫思なき古歌を多くよましめて、風雅の道をしらしむへし。」 「孝・順・貞・潔の道」 「伊勢物語・源氏物語なと、其詞は風雅なれど、かやうの淫俗の事をしらせるふみ を、はやく見せしむへからす。」

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Elsewhere we find him discussing the difference between men and women. “Women’s hearts should be virtuous and pure. Whatever happens, even if their lives are at stake, they must remain faithful to their principles. By doing so, they can retain their dignity even after death. They should always be watchful and protect themselves. The more firmly they protect their chastity, the better,” he wrote.44 “The ancients did not seat males and females in the same place, even as infants, even if they were siblings. A wife’s clothing would not be hung on the husband’s clothing rack,”45 and “That applies all the more to men and women who are not spouses. The path of the ancients is to maintain the distinction in status between man and woman, in affairs within and without the house.”46 Kaibara’s precepts for educating girls were widely adopted and published in a variety of publications entitled Onna daigaku (Great Learning for Women) to which his name was attached. Used as models for practice of writing, they spread far and wide. The early modern interpretations of the Ise monogatari were not, of course, unrelated to those social circumstances; we can see their impact reflected in commentaries written by the kokugakusha in the mid Edo period. Among the newer commentaries designated the “new” commentaries, Kada no Azumamaro’s Ise monogatari dōjimon (Commentaries on the Ise monogatari: Answering a Child’s Questions) treats the tales as totally fictional. The protagonist, in his reading, is not Narihira but “a man,” no matter what.47 Thus, for example, he excluded the atogaki of the episode 6 from the tales, arguing that it was a later addition, and asserted that the woman in that episode should be understood as “a woman” and should be by no means thought to be the Nijō Empress. One of the reasons he offered for his interpretation was that if the man were identified as Narihira and the woman as the Nijō Empress, as in the Ketsugishō and other “old” commentaries, then “Both Narihira and the Nijō Empress would be criminals.”48 In a similar vein, he said of episode 5, “This is a fictional tale of the past and thus harmless. If we thought that the author himself wrote the sentence in the commentary stating that the man secretly visited 44

45 46 47 48

「女は心ひとつを貞しく潔くして、いかなる変にあひて、たとひいのちを失なふと も、節義をかたく守るこそ、此生後の世まてのめいぼくならめ。つねに心つかひを して、身をまもる事、かたきにすぎたらんほどはよかるへし。」 「古人は、兄弟といへと、幼より男女席を同しくせす、夫の衣桁に妻の衣服をかけ ず。」 「いはんや、夫婦ならさる男女は云に及ばす、男女の分、内外の別を正しくするは 古の道なり。」 Katagiri 1968–1969, Kenkyū-hen; Yamamoto 2001. 「業平も二条后も罪人になるなり。」

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the Nijō Empress, then we would have multiple criminals here.”49 He also said of episode 4, “You should gladly accept the wife your parent has chosen for you.”50 Thus, given the Sōgi and Sanjōnishi commentaries and the context for their production, the social conditions surrounding women and the family up to about 1700, and the interpretation of the tales in the “new” commentaries on the Ise monogatari, we can readily understand why the choice of scenes to illustrate in the Sagabon version and the album leaf paintings attributed to Sōtatsu avoided directly depicting love affairs between Narihira and the Nijō Empress or other high-ranking women.51 5.3.3 Early Modern Ise monogatari-e and Waka Why, then, have both the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions nonetheless chosen to include the “Akutagawa” scene in the sixth episode, in which Narihira is carrying the Nijō Empress on his back? 49 50

51

「本文昔物かたりなれは、害なし。注に、二条の后に忍ひてまいりけるを、なとゝい ふ詞を作者の詞とするより、罪人あまた出来るなり。」 「親のめあはせたる妻こそ、本意成べし。」 The source for the Ise monogatari dōjimon here and below is the version published in Katagiri 2003; the author also referred to the Ise monogatari dōjimon, sōkō, shokan shihai, jihitsubon (Draft of the Commentaries on Ise monogatari: Answering a Child’s Questions, written on the back side of old letters, autograph manuscript) in Kada 2007 and Kada 1928. It is not the case, however, that all Ise monogatari-e dating from about the time the Sagabon and Sōtatsu versions were produced with or thereafter featured the same choice of scenes. According to Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen, the Ise monogatari emaki in the Umi-Mori Art Museum, Hatsukaichi, thought to date from the first half of the seventeenth century (ca. the Kan’ei era, 1624–1644), and one in the Saiku Historical Museum, Meiwa, thought to date from the mid Edo period or later, are of the same lineage as the Chester Beatty Library version. While they were created in the Edo period, they are thought to have followed the selection of scenes found in an older common ancestor. That is also true of the Tesshinsai Bunko’s Ise monogatari ehon, mentioned in note 23 above. In addition, Kokugakuin University’s Ise monogatari emaki, thought to date from the Bunroku era (1593–1596) to the beginning of the Keichō era (1596– 1615), originally consisted of three scrolls, of which the third, containing episodes 83 and on, has been lost, but it is regarded as having intended to depict every episode of the Ise monogatari, as in the Nakao Collection version. The Ise monogatari ehon in the Spencer Collection (New York Public Library), thought to date from about the Kanbun era (1661–1673), consists of four volumes containing 123 images. The Ise monogatari emaki painted by Sumiyoshi Jokei between 1663 (Kanbun 3) and 1670 (Kanun 10, Tokyo Nation Museum) consists of six scrolls with 77 images, depicting far more scenes than in the Sagabon version, which had only 49 illustrations. Needless to say, these extended versions need further consideration with respect to the question of the selection of scenes, among other matters.

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One plausible reason is that the love affair between Narihira and the Nijō Empress is one of the principal themes of the tales, and only this scene makes their physical intimacy clear. As Table 5.1 at the end of this chapter indicates, all the Ise monogatari-e listed there except the Chester Beatty Library version (D) include the Akutagawa scene in the sixth episode. Among other examples not included in that table, versions illustrating the sixth episode but choosing the other scenes than the Akutagawa scene are extremely rare.52 That was also true of the illustrations for many editions of the Ise monogatari published during the Edo period. While the number of illustrations included gradually decreased over time, in almost no editions was the Akutagawa scene from episode 6 omitted.53 It seems, then, that this scene is one that their readers were highly aware of and found intensely interesting.54 52

53

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According to the “Table of comparisons of scenes,” in Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Kenkyū-hen, the only example, apart from the Chester Beatty Library version, is the Saiku Historical Museum’s Ise monogatari emaki, which is of the same lineage. The Sagabon Ise monogatari includes 49 illustrations. According to Nakai Isao, however, their number was reduced to 30 for the first time in the 1655 (Meireki 1) issue; that was followed editions with few illustrations: a 1679 (Enpō 7) edition with 27 illustrations, a 1747 (Enkyō 4) edition with only 10, and a 1767 (Meiwa 4) edition with 15. Nonetheless, some scenes seem to have been staples and were not cut: “Village of Kasuga” from episode 1, episode 5, “Akutagawa” from episode 6, “Yatsuhashi,” “Mount Utsu,” “Mount Fuji,” and “Sumida River” from episode 9, and “At the well curb” from episode 23. The table comparing illustrations of the Ise monogatari that Nakai drew up, which compares the 1655 (Meireki 1), 1662 (Kanbun 2), 1679 (Enpō 7), 1685 (Jōkyō 2), 1690 (Genroku 3), 1698 (Genroku 11), 1701 (Genroku 14), 1738 (Genbun 3), 1747 (Enkyō 4), and 1767 (Meiwa 4) versions which had fewer illustrations than the Sagabon version, reveals that the “Akutagawa” scene from episode 6 was found in all versions expect the one from 1767 (Meiwa 4). Nakai infers that that the above scenes were not eliminated because of their importance in the love life of the protagonist, Narihira. See Nakai 2006. The woodblock print versions of the Ise monogatari published in the Edo period were extremely many and various, and I have not been able to study all of them. To the best of my knowledge, however, almost all use the “Akutagawa” scene to illustrate episode 6. The only examples that include an illustration of episode 6 other than the “Akutagawa” scene are the 1755 (Hōreki 5) version (illustrated by Tsukioka Tange) and, as Nakai has pointed out, the 1767 (Meiwa 4) version (illustrated by Shimokōbe Shūsui). We can also gain a sense of how great the interest in the “Akutagawa” scene in episode 6 was from the Ise monogatari dōjimon, one of the “new” commentaries. That commentary, which was written in question-and-answer format, as though answering a child’s questions about phrases or the interpretation of the poems, directs the force of its argument mainly at the Ketsugishō commentaries. It rarely mentions the Ise monogatari-e. Nonetheless, it states, of episode 6:

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There was, however, as pointed out in above, a tendency in the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions to avoid scenes of love affairs between Narihira and the Nijō Empress or other high-ranking women. Was the Akutagawa scene depicted merely because the reading public had such an intense awareness of it, despite countering the general trend in scene selection related to the social context described in the previous section? Was that the only reason the Akutagawa scene received special treatment? For answers, we must look again at other scenes. Doing so reveals that the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions do include scenes in which “a man” and a woman other than the Nijō Empress or another high-ranking woman are nestled together in an apparently intimate manner. Those are scenes from episodes 12 and 22. Let us reexamine them in search of pointers as to why the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions include the Akutagawa scene from the sixth episode. First, in images of episode 12 (Figs.  5.21 and 5.22), a man and woman are shown close together in a clump of tall grass while pursuers bearing torches close in on them. That scene does actually not occur, however, in the text. The illustration depicts the emotional landscape of the poem composed there, as others have observed.55 According to the tale told in this episode, a man has

Depictions of this episode show a man carrying a woman on his back. As the Ketsugishō interprets the phrase of “ite yuku” as leading her away, however, the text does not describe his carrying her on his back. Do we follow the Ketsugishō or the depictions? (Question on the sentence including “ite yuku.”) 此条を絵にかけるに、男の、女をおひて行さまをかけり。しかるに、疑抄には 「ゐて行」は、ひきいて行也とあれば、本文、負て行にはあらざるべし。疑抄 にしたがふべしや。絵にしたがふべしや。(ゐて行ける事) Because the text says “nusumite oite ideraru” (stole and carried her off on his back), depictions show a man carrying a woman. Would that not be immoral, however? (Question on the sentence including “nusumite oite ideraru.”) 「ぬすみておひて出たる」とあれば、絵にかけるに、男、女を負たる体をかけ るも、僻事にあらざるか。(ぬすみておひて出たる事)

55

Thus, in the Ise monogatari dōjimon, the child asks these two questions based on the pictorial depiction of the “Akutagawa” scene; that indicates how strong the interest in the “Akutagawa” scene showing the man carrying the woman on his back was. In addition, given that the author does not address Ise monogatari-e with respect to other episodes, we may conclude that the “Akutagawa” scene had become established as the image that epitomized the Ise monogatari as a whole. Chino 1991.

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Figure 5.21 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Twelfth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), Idemitsu Museum of Arts, Tokyo.

Figure 5.22 Anonym, Twelfth Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

abducted a young woman and taken her with him to the Musashi Plain. There he leaves her in a clump of tall grass and runs away, but is arrested by the provincial authorities. Meanwhile his pursuers, thinking that the thief is still somewhere on the plain, are about to set fire to it, whereupon the woman, in great anguish, composes a poem. Hearing her, they apprehend her as well and

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then march her and the man off together. In other words, there is only one person, the woman, in the grass. The man and the woman are apprehended in different places. In the poem, however, both “I,” the woman, and “my darling, tender as new grass,” her male partner, are hiding together in the Musashi Plain: Oh, not today, please Do not set fire to Musashi Plain Tender as new grass, My beloved is hiding here And so am I.56 In the Sagabon illustration of episode 22 (Fig. 5.23), a man and a woman are intimately close together in a room, near a lit candle. They appear to be staring intently at each other. In this scene, too, what we see is the emotional landscape depicted by the poem. That is, a man and a woman who have ended a brief affair exchange poems. One night the man returns to her, and they speak of many things. The man composes the following poem:

Figure 5.23 Anonym, Twenty-Second Episode, from Tales of Ise, Sagabon, 1608 (Keichō 13), National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

56

「武蔵野は今日はな焼きそ若草のつまもこもれり我もこもれり」

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If I might count a thousand autumn nights as one I could lie with you eight thousand nights and still want more.57 To which the woman replies If we were to make those thousand nights into one at its end we would still have things to say at cockcrow58 And the man goes on visiting her more eagerly than ever. The illustration of the man and woman talking together at night refers to the scene described before the man composed the first poem above, when “He went to her that night. They talked over what had happened and what might happen in the future.”59 That text does not mention, however, the cock depicted in the lower left-hand corner. It is, rather, a reference to the conclusion to her poem: “at cockcrow.”60 That is, what is depicted here is not merely a conversation between a man and a woman; the presence of the cock evokes the tender feelings that make parting so difficult described in the poems they exchange. In the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions, the only depictions of such intimacy are associated with episodes 6, 12, and 22. We have shown that the images associated with episodes 12 and 22 are deeply linked with the poems composed in those episodes. What, then, are we to make of the images of the Akutagawa scene in episode 6? As we noted at the beginning of this chapter, the Sōtatsu (Fig. 5.1) and the Sagabon (Fig. 5.2) versions illustrate that scene from the sixth episode by combining the description in the first section of text with that in the atogaki, the section following the poem. That is, they depict Narihira carrying the Nijō Empress on his back by the banks of the Akutagawa. Narihira is said to have 57 58 59 60

「秋の夜の千夜を一夜になずらえて八千夜し寝ばやあく時のあらん」 「秋の夜の千夜を一夜になせりともことば残りてとりや鳴きなん」 「その夜いにけり。いにしへゆくさきのことどもなどいいて。」 「とりや鳴きらん」 “tori ya nakiran.”

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composed the poem the following morning, after his discovery that the Nijō Empress, whom he had placed in the storehouse, had been devoured by a demon. It reads: Are those pearls I see? What then can they be? she cried— ah, that on the spot I had only answered, Dew! and as quickly disappeared61 What is the relationship between the poem and the illustration of the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions? The poem tells us that when the woman asks about the dew on the grass – “Are those pearls? What are they?” – Narihira, in a hurry to move on, does not reply. Now he wishes that he had answered, “That is dew,” and then, like the dew, vanished, that is, died. As is strikingly visible in the painting attributed to Sōtatsu in which the couple, surrounded by the dewcovered grass, are staring intently at each other, the illustrated scene overlaps with the emotional landscape tinged with regret that the poem evokes. We can, in other words, conclude that the depiction of the Akutagawa scene is tied to the poem. Of course, the Ise monogatari is a narrative weaving together text and poems, with a poem composed in each episode. In the illustrated versions, some of the illustrations follow the poem, not the text, even though the subject is not intimacy between a man and a woman. Consider, for example, the illustration for episode 50 (Fig. 5.24), which depicts a woman who is “writing figures on a flowing stream” following the poem: The greater folly lies not in writing figures on a flowing stream, but in loving loyally one who has no love for you.62 Conversely, there are many illustrations that have nothing to do with the associated poem. For example, for episode 27 (Fig. 5.25), the illustration of a woman 61 62

「白玉か何ぞと人の問ひし時露とこたへてきえなましものを」 Translation by Mostow and Tyler 2010, p. 25. 「行く水に数かくよりもはかなきは思はぬ人を思ふなりけり」 Translation by Mostow and Tyler 2010, p. 113.

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Figure 5.24 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, Fiftieth Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), private collection.

Figure 5.25 Attributed to Tawaraya Sōtatsu, TwentySeventh Episode, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tales of Ise, second decade of Kan’ei period (1633–1642), Suntory Museum of Art, Tokyo.

washing her hands has no relation to the poems in that episode. The scene is described only in the text. Based on these examples, it seems plausible to argue that scenes in which the couple is shown in intimate contact have been depicted not merely because of what the text says, but rather in relation to the poem composed in that context. That connection to the poem is arguably the reason for the

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depictions of the scene on the bank of the Akutagawa in both the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions. 5.4 Conclusion This chapter has explored the relationship between the choice of scenes for illustration in Ise monogatari-e at the beginning of the early modern period from the perspective of how the intimate sphere constituted by the relationship between a man and a woman was depicted, starting with depiction of the sixth, Akutagawa, episode in the Ise monogatari-e paintings attributed to Sōtatsu. Examining its relationship to the text of the Ise monogatari itself, annotations of the text, and earlier illustrations, we have reached two conclusions about the Sōtatsu and the Sagabon versions, both created in the first half of the seventeenth century. The first is that there was a tendency to avoid depiction of love scenes involving Narihira and the Nijō Empress or other highranking women – a reflection of moralistic readings of the tales in the context of the impact of Confucian teachings, as can be seen in the commentaries by Sōgi and the Sanjōnishi stream of interpretation, including the Shōmonshō and Ketsugishō. The other conclusion is that the selection of the Akutagawa scene in the sixth episode, in an apparent contradiction of that trend, may have been related to the poem at the heart of that episode, not the prose text. Of these conclusions, the first, the tendency to avoid depicting love scenes involving high-ranking women, reflects the changing views of family and marriage in the period in which those commentaries were written and those illustrations were created. This chapter has focused on the Ise monogatari. Are the same tendencies observable in Genji-e, pictorial representations based on the Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji)? The well-known Genji-e shikishi (depictions of the Tale of Genji on specially prepared square papers) by Tosa Mitsuyoshi are the almost canonical models for early modern Genji-e. Of them, 80 survive in the collection of the Kuboso Memorial Museum of Arts, Izumi, and another 54 are in the collection of the Kyoto National Museum. All date from the Keichō era (1596–1615), close in time to the date of the Sagabon version of the Ise monogatari.63 These paintings include a considerable number depicting a man and a woman together in the same room. While these might appear at first glance to be love scenes, the majority depict husbands and wives or parents and ­children. The painting of the “Utsusemi” chapter in the Kuboso Museum 63

Kubosō Memorial Museum of Arts 1992 and Takeda 1976.

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Figure 5.26 Tosa school, Girl, from Album Leaf Paintings on Shikishi of the Tale of Genji, late 17th century, Sakai City Museum, Sakai.

collection, which depicts Genji’s pursuit of Utsusemi, is an exception. That is, the tendency to avoid depicting love scenes, particularly when involving highranking women, that has been identified in the Ise monogatari-e also applies to the Genji-e shikishi. The Kyoto National Museum version of those Genji-e is known to include multiple renderings of six scenes (Yūgao, Wakamurasaki, Suetsumuhana, Sakaki, Hanachirusato and Yomogiu) by Mitsuyoshi and his pupil Chōjirō. It has recently been pointed out that the selection of those six scenes avoids scenes in which only men appear, outdoor scenes, and scenes including women from families of the provincial governor rank, married women, young girls, and women fated to trifle with or dominate men. Instead, they depict views of love and marriage in which men visit aristocratic women of high status and women gain happiness.64 The album in the Sakai City Museum, which is attributed to artists associated with Mitsuyoshi, also includes unusual scenes not found in earlier Genji-e (Fig. 5.26). What is distinctive about them is that they depict episodes that would be instructive for women in their roles as wives.65 Thus we might conclude that the Genji-e in the Kyoto National Museum and Sakai City Museum share the same moralistic approach to the selection of scenes to be depicted that we found in the Sōtatsu and Sagabon versions of Ise monogatari-e. 64 65

Inamoto 1997a. Inamoto 1997b.

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This chapter has employed the concept of the intimate sphere, one relatively unfamiliar in art history, in interpreting the selection of scenes in Ise monogatari-e created in the first half of the seventeenth century, that is, from the late Momoyama to the early Edo period. It is hoped that utilizing this concept has suggested new interpretive possibilities. Table 5.1

Illustrated versions of the Ise monogatari.

Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

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172 Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

173

174 Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

175

176 Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

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178 Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

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180 Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

181

182 Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Man and Woman in Ise monogatari-e Table 5.1 (Continued)

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Table 5.1 (Continued)

A: British Library; B: Ono Collection; C: Nakao Collection; D: Chester Beatty Library; E: Sagabon; F: Paintings on album leaves, attributed to Sōtatsu.

Chapter 6

Karako Asobi: Images of Chinese Children at Play*,† Tajima Tatsuya 6.1

Images of Children and Karako (Chinese Children) in Japanese Painting

Assigned the theme of representations of close affection, I began to think about their expression in Japanese paintings. How is intimacy expressed in Japanese art? That is the starting point for a subject not often discussed up until now. Thus, this chapter will consider the relationship between intimate affection and paintings, particularly images of children in pre-modern Japanese art, focusing on an examination of the theme of karako asobi, or Chinese children at play. In Japanese painting, where do images of children appear, in what kind of settings? In terms of the portraits of specific children, there are portraits of historical figures such as Shōtoku Taishi and Kūkai as children. These were created as objects of worship, and while they represent actual individual persons, they are a form of ancestor image within the broader genre of Buddhist painting. In the background of the worship of infant or youthful figures is a layering of belief systems, both Buddhist teachings and the worship of children in Japan as a form of Shinto deity. It has been frequently indicated that Shinto deities appear in the guise of children. Outside of the realm of religious art, in general, portraits of children were created as part of the grieving process upon the death of a child. As noted in Bunchō gadan (Bunchō’s Treatise on Painting), to paraphrase, “In Japan, portraits of living subjects who are less than 30 years old are not created. In the belief that creating an exact likeness of the figure will hasten their death, portraits of living subjects are depicted without visual resemblance to their subject.”1 Thus, given the high mortality in the past, it is natural that painting * Translation from Japanese into English: Martha J. McClintock. † This essay was originally presented as a lecture at the symposium held at the Japan Art History Society’s 62nd Annual Congress, “Representation of Intimacy in Art,” May 23, 2009 at Kyoto University. 1 Bunchō gadan (Bunchō’s Treatise on Painting), published in Sakazaki 1917, pp. 757–817, esp. p. 816. “The custom in Japan is that portraits of people less than 30 years of age are not to be created, probably for fear of jinxing their luck and causing grief. When I was once making a

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_007

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pictures of living children was avoided, since it was believed to shorten their life. Examples of extant Muromachi period and later portraits of children known today include Hosokawa Hasumaru as a small child (Chōshōin Collection), and Tokugawa Ichihime (Seiryōji Collection). In Japan, ancestor worship means that portraits of ancestors are as carefully handled as images of Buddhist and Shinto deities. In that sense, even though it is hard to strictly differentiate these two portraits of deceased children from works of religious art, they were actually depicted in their adorable living form, not a strict formality that might conjures images of their divine sanctity. In such choices we can sense the grieving sentiments of the parents of the deceased child. While the original purpose of posthumous portraits of children was to pray for them along with deceased ancestor spirits, they were also prized as a means of remembering the appearance of the late child. On the other hand, what about the depiction of children in genre scenes, such as narrative handscrolls or screen and wall paintings? Beginning with handscrolls, images of families, including children, can often be found in early pre-modern era genre paintings, customs of the twelve months paintings, and rice cultivation through the four seasons paintings. Examples of children playing together are particularly well known in the Scenes In and Around Kyoto (Rakuchū Rakugai) screens. For example, in Kanō Eitoku’s Scenes In and Around Kyoto, known as the Uesugi version, children are shown playing New Year’s games, such as tug-of-war and buriburi gicchō, a traditional ball and stick game. These images are important historical evidence of how children acted at the time. However, there was no development of this imagery from thumbnail image inclusion in larger compositions to genre scenes focused on Japanese children. The courtesans and theatrical figures who similarly appear as motifs within larger compositions later developed into independent picture subjects, such as beauty pictures and actor pictures, and thus we can assume that the consumers of genre pictures at the time did not create a demand for pictures of Japanese children. Kusumi Morikage’s Enjoying the Evening Cool under a Evening Glory Trellis (Fig. 0.3) is known as a depiction of a child with its family. The two-panel screen shows three figures, who appear to be father, mother and son, enjoying the cool evening air together on a single straw mat. This painting is the first work that portrait of the lord of Awa fief, Sumiyoshi Hiroyuki also said the same thing; one should not create a too realistic image of the sitter as it would affect their fate, and that is how it became the custom to make a portrait from a living model not resemble the model.” 「本邦の俗、三十に 満たざれば人の像を繪くべからずといふ、恐くは壽をかゝんことを忌みてなり、我昔日 阿波太守の影像をうつせし時、住吉廣行も同じくありしが、云く、悉く肖すべからず、似 れば則命を損ぜんことを如何、凡そ壽像は必ず肖ぬ様に書くべきことなりといへり」

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comes to mind when mention is made of a Japanese painting depicting a family group, and for people today, it also warms the heart as a scene of a family group. However, there are few examples of pre-modern Japanese paintings on the subject of nuclear family intimacy, and thus this painting is quite an exception. Conversely, there are a large number of pictures depicting mother-child combinations, and a particularly rich array of works on the subject in ukiyo-e. Mother-child pictures form one of the subcategories within the larger category of beauty pictures. Suzuki Harunobu, heralded as the founder of the full-color woodblock print (nishiki-e) frequently depicted mother-child scenes. Kitagawa Utamaro also excelled at the depiction of children, and his accurate rendering of these images can be thought to express his greatly affectionate observation of children. Here let’s examine Utamaro’s Lover of Loud Noises from the series, Eight Views of Popular Things (Tōsei kōbutsu hakkei, sawagi zuki) (Fig. 6.1). A child is shown blowing a glass noisemaker in his mother’s ear. There is no sense that some 200 years have already passed since Utamaro’s vivid depiction of the child’s delight in the raucous noise and his mother’s reaction. The difference with a child today comes in the child’s garments and hairstyle. Indeed, to viewers today the child’s hairstyle might be a bit unsettling. The highly refined hairstyles of women are an essential element of ukiyo-e, as can be attested to by any viewer of ukiyo-e works. However, what about

Figure 6.1 Kitagawa Utamaro, Lover of Loud Noises from the series, Eight Views of Popular Things (Tōsei kōbutsu hakkei, sawagi zuki), Kyōwa era (1801– 1804), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo.

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children’s hairstyles? This child has a shaved head, with one tuft of hair left, and this hairstyle is not limited to this print. During the Edo period it was common practice to shave a young child’s head and leave one section unshaved. Indeed, the ancient custom in Japan was to completely shave a child’s head soon after birth and keep it shaven until the “growing hair” ceremony conducted when a child was 3 years old. However, by the Edo period, even after the growing hair ceremony, it was customary to shave a child’s head, leaving one tuft.2 Thanks to this tuft of remaining hair, this hairstyle came to be known as poppy (keshi), guy (yakko), or Chinese child (karako).3 The last term, karako, or literally Chinese children, is said to derive from the hairstyle worn by children in China. To viewers today, this now abandoned custom seems strange, but to viewers at the time, it would represent a child-like figure. One modern scholar focused on this Chinese style of children in the Edo period, namely, Kuroda Hideo, a Japanese medieval period history scholar. Originally there was no custom in Japan for children to wear the karako hairstyle or to wear a child’s apron-like bib (Fig. 6.2). Images of Chinese style karako were first brought to Japan in the medieval period, and this meant that some of the children depicted in Japanese medieval period genre scenes are shown with the karako hairstyle. However, this hairstyle was not defined as a general custom. Kuroda notes that the fashion for karako hairstyle among Japanese children did not begin until the pre-modern era, and that this reflected changing views of children. To quote Kuroda, “In the pre-modern era, the concept of ‘children as treasures’ spread in the general populace, and along with this concept, children were seen as beings to be protected given their fragile lives which could easily end and return their souls to the realm of the

Figure 6.2 Suzuki Harunobu, Mother and Child in Summer Clothes (Natsu sugata haha to ko), ca. Meiwa era (1764–1772), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo. 2 Ema 1960. 3 Kumon Institute of Children 2000, p. 211.

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gods and Buddha. Hence, they became objects of affection that should be carefully nurtured, and this led to the creation of visual images of their adorable features. Given these factors, the karako can be seen as a reflection of and pictorial depiction of the pre-modern discovery of the cuteness of children.”4 For an art historian like myself, what fascinates me more than the larger social history question is the view that a karako image displays “cuteness.” I have heard the folkloristic explanation of shaving a newborn child’s head because the newborn hair was considered to be unclean,5 but I have never hit upon the idea of considering this hairstyle from a fashion point of view. Not limited to ukiyo-e, karako imagery appears throughout pre-modern Japanese art and decorative arts. This imagery is particularly frequently found in items related to everyday life, appearing in designs on ceramic or lacquer wares. In the realm of paintings, they appear both in some paintings of Chinese figures and there are also Chinese Children at Play screens focusing on karako imagery (Fig. 6.3). There is the tendency among scholars to basically consider these works to be stereotypical painting subjects on Chinese themes, created under the influence of Chinese paintings and decorative arts. However, if there is a link between the forms of actual children that appear in ukiyo-e works and karako imagery in the greater Japanese art world, then we must change our view of karako imagery. The following is an investigation of the establishment

Figure 6.3 Kanō Tan’yū, right screen from a pair of Chinese Children at Play Screens, early Edo period (17th century), Sannomaru Shōzōkan, Museum of the Imperial Collections, Tokyo. 4 Kuroda 1994, p. 94. 5 Kumon Institute of Children 2000, p. 210.

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of karako imagery in Japan and its use in paintings, particularly pre-modern era works. 6.2

The “Cuteness” of Karako

Personally speaking, the first time I saw a Chinese Children at Play screen was when I was a graduate student, and I thought it was an extremely strange image. Why were there only male children depicted? What was it used for? Questions like these quickly sprang to mind. But the main question in my mind was, why are they so un-cute? At the time, my main interest lay in bird and flower paintings. I was beguiled by Edo period bird and flower paintings, where flowers appear beautiful and birds appear adorable, even to a contemporary viewer. From that visual point of reference, I saw the karako as truly grotesque. A bit of investigation taught me that karako imagery was considered to be auspicious. The importance of male children came to Japan as part of Chinese culture, and children were the symbol of the traditional concept of “prosperity of descendants.” So, naturally, the majority of karako images are of male children. The Japanese term for auspicious is an abbreviation of a saying that can be translated as signs of good things to come. Owning paintings of auspicious subjects or items adorned with such motifs meant you were calling good fortune into your life. The concept of auspiciousness is extremely important, even today, in China and those East Asian cultures influenced by Chinese culture. This importance is based on the belief in these cultures that fate is entwined with the phenomena of the world, and therefore can be changed. It is thought that by using some sort of incantation or spell, one can and will attract good fortune. Thus, many of the motifs and elements of Chinese visual arts include some form of auspicious meaning. But auspiciousness does not require either auspicious content or resemblance. While the tree peony is regarded as a symbol of prosperity because of its gorgeous and magnificent appearance, the fruit of the tachibana, a green citrus fruit native to Japan, is also regarded as auspicious, as the kanji character for tachibana can be pronounced in the same manner as the kanji character for good fortune. Further, it doesn’t matter if the symbol or motif looks ­grotesque. Examples of this can be found in the god of happiness, wealth and longevity, Fukurokuju, who is one of the Japanese grouping of seven gods of good fortune, or similar folk gods like Daikoku and Hotei. Traditional Japanese doll forms, such as Daruma dolls and Fukusuke dolls, can be said to be the effective use of deformation. It seems that their very unique forms

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are in fact the source of their special powers. In the case of good luck charms, the so-called demon queller Zhong Kui (Jp: Shōki) is shown with bulging arm muscles as indication of his special powers. The people of the Edo period took such misshapen gods and immortals and transformed them into humorous renditions. In today’s terms, they might be called “weirdly cute.” This cultural phenomena from the Edo period has been continued and plays out in contemporary Japanese anime and cartoon character culture. And yet, I still wonder, why did they depict normally cute children in such unsettling forms? After these initial experiences with karako visual imagery, I became immersed for a while in the study of the beauty painting genre in pre-modern Japanese painting, and here too, this question arose. In general, the term in Japanese, bijinga, or literally picture of a beautiful woman, is applied to images of women who would not be considered beautiful today. This is explained by the reasoning that the standard of beauty in the human figure differs by period, and thus the beauties depicted in ukiyo-e represent the Edo period concept of a beautiful human figure. However, in the works of Utamaro and other creators of ukiyo-e bijinga, the shape of the skull created by the facial outline is somewhat transformed, while the balance in size between the mouth and eyes also differs from the human norm.6 If indeed such facial types were considered beautiful, then it means that the changing nature of human awareness of beauty is a huge factor that almost renders it impossible for a full appreciation of the arts of the past, which is an extremely pessimistic feeling. However, as I looked at more and more of these bijinga, my way of looking began to change. I stopped making a direct comparison between the beauties depicted in ukiyo-e and contemporary beauties, instead began to compare the ukiyo-e beauties amongst themselves. Utamaro repeatedly depicted images of two women considered to be beauties of their day, namely Takashima Ohisa and Naniwaya Okita. Indeed, there are many images of these two women shown together. At first glance it is hard to see the differences between them, but as I began to discern the subtle differences between the two, I noticed the accurate, and indeed intricate, rendering of their individual differences worked within a general pattern. Slight changes in eye size, curve of the nostrils and such become important signals of differentiation within the single realm of Utamaro bijinga, and for the experienced viewer these works are transformed in the mind into the characteristics of actual women’s faces. 6 Minami 1984, p. 26. Minami took images of women considered today to be beauties, rearranged their faces to match the facial proportions found in ukiyo-e images, and thus showed how ukiyo-e images distort these proportions.

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Bijinga are not the literal, photograph-like representation of a beautiful woman. They are symbols of the characteristics, or indicators, of the beautiful woman that the artist sought to capture. The viewer accomplishes the act of appreciation by supplementing and adjusting the depicted image within their own imagination. Then, we might say, isn’t this also the case with karako. In other words, the viewers of their day did not only perceive their functional aspect as auspicious images, didn’t they also perceive them as the cutest possible form of children? Didn’t they go to the great effort of depicting them in Chinese style because they perceived such depictions as cute or adorable? So what caused me to start thinking that the karako were not cute? Close examination of how karako are depicted reveals that the depiction method found in contemporary manga and anime, namely enlarged heads, enlarged eyes, and eyes positioned low on the face, is not fully applied in them. Therefore, for us today, we can’t help but think of them as little adults. In particular, the slit eyes seem to be the opposite of the signals used today to convey “cuteness.” And this element of the depiction is more than just not cute, it could also be considered unsettling. And the sense of unease seems to increase when we see a group of such children assembled. And yet, conversely, to those unused to them, the depiction of children today also probably seems deformed. Indeed, we also sense the feeling of  strangeness in the representation of overly huge eyes found in oldfashioned girls’ manga. So if that is the case, what was it about the karako imagery that the people of the past found cute? Compared to images of Japanese children dating from the medieval and earlier periods, the karako children are more richly varied in terms of hairstyle and garment, and indeed, they could be called extremely fashionable. While the following is my own imagined idea, I think that of their many traits, the most important is their “round head.” If we examine the children’s hairstyles seen in karako pictures, we see that most of the toddlers have the shaved head-remaining tuft hairstyle. This style changes depending on how and where the tuft of hair is left, but in all of these images, the emphasis is on the roundness of the head. There are some examples with longer hair, or hair tied up in buns, but none of these variations allow the hair to extend beyond the round silhouette of the head. Hence this head shape differs greatly from the almost triangular shape of the traditional Japanese suberakashi and amasogi hairstyles with long hair. The hairstyles of young children in the Edo period generally emphasized the roundness of the head. A comparison of adult and children’s hairstyles of the past reveals this

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striking round head trait. It is hard to say which came first, did they shave ­children’s hair to make them look cute, or were they cute because their hair was shaved. In dolls based on young children’s forms – whether the traditional folk dolls known as kokeshi or the more elite form of Gosho ningyō (Gosho dolls) from Kyoto – this round head characteristic is clearly emphasized. Thus in pre-modern Japan this trait was clearly linked to cuteness in a young child. This type of standard for “what appears cute” is not an absolute, but rather varies greatly by region and time period. People today consider round eyes to be a cute feature of young children, while in the pre-modern era they thought round heads were cute. Then, how were these karako images, which were the source of the round-headed young child imagery, received in Japan? While we can say that karako imagery presents two aspects, auspiciousness and cuteness, then we might ask, where were each of these traits consumed and appreciated? The following section presents a detailed examination of paintings depicting karako. 6.3

Painting Themes That Include Karako Imagery

First, let’s consider how the karako imagery appeared in paintings and art works. Karako asobizu byōbu, literally Chinese Children at Play screens, are the first thing that comes to mind. These screen paintings are basically composed solely of images of karako. While some of these works have blank backgrounds, many of them show the children playing in a garden-like area in front of a Chinese-style palace. The types of play they are engaging in differs, but they run the gamut of such popular games as tag, playing with toys, or simple mindless fun. In addition to child-like play, there are also quite a few of these paintings that include scenes of children imitating adult actions. An example of such mimicking adults can be found in Four Gentlemanly Arts paintings, namely zither, chess, calligraphy and painting, where all of the figures depicted are karako, rather than the standard form of adults engaged in serious pursuits. There are also cases where the karako represent specific people. Paintings on the Sima Guang Breaking the Vat theme are one such example. Sima Guang was a scholar and politician in China’s Northern Song dynasty, and from a young age he was identified as a child prodigy. One day his friend fell into a large water storage vat. Sima Guang calmly broke the vat with a stone, and thus rescued his friend. But such examples are rare, and in general, karako are not specific known individuals.

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The Kōsoshū, written by Kanō Ikkei, is a collection of painting subjects, and in the “children” category, there are eight painting subjects listed.7 Those themes include a group of children playing, children playing specific games (such as children playing a plant comparison game, children playing go and a village child playing with a butterfly), childhood episodes of a specific person (such as Gu Ye-wang reading a book, Kong Jun-ping questioning Yang’s son, and Sima Guang breaking the vat), along with village children entering school. Of course, these themes originated in China. The best known example of ancient Chinese depictions of karako can be found in Children Playing in an Autumn Garden by Su Hanchen, a late Northern 7 Kanō Ikkei, Kōsoshū, published in Sakazaki 1927, pp. 661–739, esp. 696. Ikkei provides a list of painting themes depicting children with descriptions of the constituent elements of each painting theme. The painting themes are: Ye-wang Reading a Book: Gu Ye-wang, a person from Liang, read Ch’ien-tzŭ-wên (Jp: Senjimon, Book of One Thousand Words) at the age of seven. Jun-ping Playing with a Child: Kong Jun-ping visited Mr. Yang and came to Yang’s house. Finding Yang absent, he met Yang’s child and held a dialogue with the child. A Young Child Smashing the Vat: Many young children were playing together. A child fell into a big vat full of water and nearly drowned. Children fled in all directions. Yet Sima Guang alone remained, smashed the vat with a stone and helped his drowning friend. Young Children Compete in a Plant Comparison Game: Young children play a plant comparison game. Young Children Playing Together: Many young children play a cockfight game, walk on stilts, and play with various toys. Children Playing Go: Young children put go pieces on the go board. Village Children Entering School: Rural children go to school, eager to learn. A Village Child Playing with a Butterfly: A young village child is attracted to a flying butterfly and runs after it with a stick in his hand. 野王読書図 顧野王梁人、七歳の時千字文をよむ。 君平戯児図 孔君平楊氏を尋て楊が宿にいたる、楊は留守にて楊が子にあうて問 答する。 小児撃瓶図 小児多くあつまりてあそぶ、大きなかめに水たゝへて有に、一人落こみ すでに水におぼれんとする所に、皆方々にげさる其中に、司馬温公一 人とゞまりて石を以かめをうちわりて子をたすくる。 小児合草図  小児多あつまりて色々の草合する。 児子会遊図 児 子 多 く よ り て 鳥 を 合 す 、 或 は 竹 馬 な ど に 乘 て 色 々 の 翫 を お き てあそぶ。 童子囲棋図  小児碁ばんにむかひ棋うつ。 村童入学図  村家の子学に心を入て学所に通ふ。 村童戯蝶図  村家にて一人の児蝶の飛に心を付て杖を持ておひ行。

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Song to Southern Song dynasties court painter, now in the National Palace Museum, Taipei. Two children are seen playing with their toys in a Chinese style garden. Su Hanchen also created a handscroll of One Hundred Children in the Long Spring, and thus the models for Japan’s pictures on the Chinese Children at Play theme probably date back to this period. There are also paintings of karako grouped with other figures. In the case of infants or younger children, there is the child’s mother. The painting theme of court women and female court attendants, a form of beauty painting depicting the women of the imperial court, was frequently painted in China, and in Japan, this theme, which came to be known as Chinese Beauties, can be found on wall paintings, screen paintings and other formats. One such example of a wall painting, the wall paintings in the Narutaki-no-ma room of the Abbot’s Quarters at Nanzenji, includes images of children. The theme combining images of karako and women is known as the Court Women and Chinese Children at Play theme.8 Not only is there an overlap of the Chinese Beauties and the Chinese Children at Play themes, there are also many instances where the same artists are involved in their production for similar uses. In any event, these themes were firmly established as subjects for wall paintings and screen paintings by the Chinese painting-influenced schools of Japanese painting, particularly the Kanō school, during the course of the medieval to pre-modern era. On the other hand, a different form of karako painting appears in medieval period ink painting. The combination of Hotei (a pot-bellied god who is one of the Seven Gods of Good Fortune) and karako is best-known example of karako in this medium during this period. Among these works, a Hotei and Chinese Children painting (Figs. 6.4 and 6.5),9 introduced in recent years by Yamamoto Hideo, bears the inscription of the Kamakura period Zen priest Nanzan Shiun. This is the oldest known example of a Hotei and Chinese Children theme painting, and indeed, the oldest known example of karako imagery by a Japanese painter. The theme of Chinese Children and the Seven Gods of Good Fortune, frequently painted in the Edo period, is thought to be a pre-modern period derivation of the Hotei and Chinese Children theme. Here the expression of auspiciousness has become all the more direct. While there are few examples of the itinerant peddler theme in Japan, this imagery frequently appears in Chinese 8 The painting titles, “Court Ladies and Karako” and “Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play” appear in the historical records related to the later-mentioned wall and panel paintings of the Kyoto Imperial Palace. Similarly, the painting title “Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play” appears in Kanō Seisen’in’s Kōyō Nikki (Public Diary). 9 Yamamoto 2006.

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Figure 6.4 Hotei and Chinese Children, first half of the 14th century, private collection.

Figure 6.5 Detail of Fig. 6.4.

painting. This theme depicts children gathered around an itinerant peddler who carries toys and small household goods on a pole strung across his shoulders. Examples of the theme by the Southern Song dynasty painter Li Song and the Ming dynasty painter Lu Wenying are well known. There are numerous extant examples of this theme in Japan, particularly those by the latter painter. Now let us consider painting themes related to the karako theme. First, there are the various child-form characters that appear in Buddhist paintings and handscrolls recounting the history of a specific temple, such as Hachidai Dōji,

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Zenzai Dōji, Zen’nishi Dōji, and Kengai Dōji. Because these figures have an existence that differs from that of actual humans, they were in all likelihood first created as the manifestations of qualities, a type of divinity particular to children. Pictures of herd boys, the young boys leading water buffalos or oxen, are also a familiar element of the Ten Oxen Pictures theme. And yet, these young boys are working, they are not depicted in childlike poses. Similarly, massive numbers of young boys were depicted as attendants in the Daoist-Buddhist figure themes created in ink painting. These young attendants have faces that are closer to those of young men than those of infants. However, there some cases of karako-style depictions amongst these young boy attendants. Kanō Sansetsu’s Orchid Pavilion Gathering screens (Zuishin’in) show combinations of elements from the Chinese Children at Play imagery, such as young attendants preparing wine cups and playing pranks. The Kanzan and Jittoku theme (Ch: Han Shan and Shihde) frequently appears in Japanese medieval period ink paintings, and originally the iconography was based on actual historical figures, and paintings on the subject did not include images of children. However, once the legendary Zen pair was established in the public mind as characters who lived an existence free of societal restraints, painters created many images of the pair in child-like form. Kuroda Hideo has surmised that this was a conflation of the karako imagery with the Kanzan-Jittoku imagery.10 The next question is, how were these images of karako received in Japan. In China, as seen in the Su Hanchen example mentioned above, paintings with a central motif of children are thought to have been established as a single genre by at least the Northern Song to Southern Song dynasties. A fascinating earlier example of a painting depicting children has been excavated from a Tang dynasty tomb in Turfan (Xinjiang Uygur Museum). While the painting’s focus is on the women, the children are depicted in vivid form. The previously noted Hotei and Chinese Children painting is thought to date from the first half of the 14th century and is the oldest example of its type in Japan. Historical records, such as the Koga bikō (Remarks on Old Paintings), mention Hotei and Chinese Children paintings in the Kaō style and Chinese Children at Play screens by Sesshū.11 However, the examples cited cannot 10 11

Kuroda 2001. Examples of karako imagery in Asaoka Okisada’s Koga bikō (Remarks on Old Paintings): The Reverend Kaō Sōnen: Kaō style Hotei and Karako, archaic type on silk. (vol. 8) Isshibunshu oshō: Children Playing with Brushes, he made this painting by himself, accepting an order from the retired emperor. (vol. 10)

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be confirmed amongst extant works, and there is always the question of the accuracy of the record’s attribution. While the idea that Sesshū painted Chinese Children at Play screens is fascinating, whether it is true or not remains at this point unclear. During the Muromachi period, Sesson was the main painter who depicted karako. In addition to the paintings depicting karako alone, he created Hotei and Chinese Children paintings. There is also a wealth of karako imagery in his court lady paintings as a sub-genre of the beauty paintings genre. Even the young boy attendants and Kanzan and Jittoku imagery depicted by Sesson show round, childish faces. All these paintings by Sesson speak of his strong affection for children. Kanō school painters created the majority of Chinese Children at Play screens during the Edo period. Then, are there any examples of this theme by a Muromachi period Kanō school painter? Kanō Motonobu’s Chinese Children at Play screens are seen in the above-mentioned Koga bikō, but the mentioned work cannot be confirmed amongst extant examples by the painter. By Eitoku’s generation, there some partial karako-like imagery found in the Twenty-Four Paragons of Filial Piety wall paintings at Nanzenji. Kanō Tan’yū, the main founder of the Edo Kanō school, created the Chinese Children at Play screens today in the Sannomaru Shōzōkan (Museum of the Imperial Collections). This pair of screens depicts a group of karako set against an overall gold ground. The format and compositional choices suggest a connection to the trend for overall gold ground, no background image compositions in early pre-modern genre paintings, such as the Hikone Screens (Hikone Castle Museum) and dance performance screens (such as the versions found Iwasa Mitsusuke: A painting by him, as above, is Karako Playing Tag. Karako at Play, one child is missing, treasure of Tōfukuji Temple, information from Senshun. (vol. 31) [Kanō] Hideyori:Karako at Play, two scrolls for folding screen. (vol. 39) Seihō Yōshō (old letters owned by Yōshō): A pair of folding screen of Karako created by Sesshū, one of the treasures of Kohōan, a work with incomparable execution. A folding screen of Karako by Kohōgen [Kanō Motonobu] is really astonishing. (vol. 43) 巻八 巻十 巻三一 巻三九 巻四三

可翁宗然禅師「可翁風布袋唐子 古拙絹本」 一絲文守和尚「童子弄筆図　自画応 院宣」 岩佐光輔「同画ニゲ唐子　唐子遊ナリ一児ナシ 東福寺什 千春話」 季頼「唐子遊屏風マクリ二枚」 晴峰養償(晴峰所持古手紙) 「孤蓬庵之宝物ニ雪舟唐子の屏風一双有之無類之出来物」 「古法眼唐子之屏風には驚入候」

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in the New Otani Art Museum, the Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art and the Suntory Museum of Art). As seen in Kanō Michinobu’s copy (Chinese Children at Play screens, Itabashi Art Museum) of Tan’yū’s screens, this painting composition seems to have been handed down as one set type in the Edo Kanō lineage. However, there is also the karako depicted in the forecourt of a Chinese style palace type that was created in large numbers by later Kanō school artists. This palace forecourt-karako type shares compositional elements with the Kanō school standard form of Chinese figural screen paintings, such as Kanō Tan’yū’s The Two Chinese Emperors screens (Nezu Museum). Within the limits of the current investigation, I have yet to locate a palace forecourt-karako type work by Tan’yū himself, though it is highly likely that such a work did actually exist in the past. After Tan’yū, a single form of change appeared in karako works created around the 18th century. This was a trend towards an almost decorative arts-like form of painting as opposed to a painting simply for viewing. This was marked by an increased predominance of works with a heightened emphasis on auspiciousness through the addition of images of the Seven Gods of Good Fortune and an increased sense of decorativeness through the addition of detailed motifs. Kanō Chikanobu’s Chinese Children Enacting the Four Gentlemanly Arts screens12 (private collection, Fig. 6.6) has a sumptuously finished back surface adorned with a painting created in silver paint. Yasumura Toshinobu has interpreted this special handling as indicating that the work was a presentation item made on special commission, and emphasized that more so than as a painting, the work was intended as a form of interior furnishing.13 Along with this change in overall handling of the work, the overtly

Figure 6.6 Kanō Chikanobu, detail from Chinese Children Enacting the Four Gentlemanly Arts screens, mid-Edo period (18th century), private collection.

12 13

Exh. Cat. Tokyo 1998, no. 22. Exh. Cat. Tokyo 1998, p. 181.

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Chinese traits of the karako have also been reduced to a more simplified appearance. In contrast to the trend towards a decorative arts handling of the traditional types of karako screens, from the mid Edo period onwards, there was a new focus on painting themes that depicted Guo Ziyi and karako. Guo Ziyi was a Tang dynasty warrior blessed with many grandchildren, long life and prosperity. His imagery came to be used in auspicious theme paintings. Works that depict Guo Ziyi surrounded by his children and grandchildren, depending on the version, show his small grandchildren in compositional arrangements reminiscent of karako paintings. The main example of this type can be found in the wall paintings by Maruyama Ōkyo at Daijōji in Kyoto. The six karako who figure as Guo Ziyi’s grandchildren are seen playing hide-and-seek behind bamboo leaves, and other games. Guo Ziyi compositions were also painted by the Kanō school, and the triptych Guo Ziyi and Birds and Flowers by Kanō Isen’in Naganobu is well known. Ōkyo’s student Nagasawa Rosetsu was a painter who breathed new life into the karako genre with his vivid and individualist expression. He created a large number of karako theme paintings, including the Chinese Children at Play wall paintings at Muryōji. Rosetsu’s karako are Chinese style only in terms of their garments and hairstyles, otherwise there is nothing to suggest that they are children from a foreign land. Rather, they seem to be like the Japanese mischievous children who appear playing pranks in the temple school (terakoya) scenes found in ukiyo-e works. In the realist school lineages, Yokoyama Kazan, skilled at genre scenes, created the Chinese Children at Play screens today in the Yamagata Museum of Art. This work is an example of an emphasis on the auspicious, as seen in its crane and phoenix motifs. However, the individual poses and expressions of each figure in the work are extremely realistically rendered, and thus it is a strange mélange of auspiciousness and realism. In the literati schools, Ike no Taiga enjoyed painting karako imagery. A representative example of his handling of the subject can be found in the Chinese Children beneath Willow Trees screens (Ike Taiga Art Museum Collection, Kyoto). What can be noticed in this review of the karako imagery progression, it goes without saying, is the fact that the karako image itself has been transformed into something that is more familiar to its Japanese audience of the day. In other words, the gaze turned toward Chinese Children at Play has transformed the iconography from images of exotic Chinese children into images of familiar characters. Further, in the mid Edo period, realist and ukiyo-e artists brought the reality of the actual world into the visual realm of the painting. Thus the gaze directed at these images changed to seek within the still

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technically “Chinese” child image the same kind of “cuteness” viewers sensed in the children they saw in their own lives. 6.4

Reception Locales for Karako

The questions then arise, what was the purpose of these karako pictures and where were they used? To answer these questions we should first consider wall and panel paintings (shōhekiga) in traditional Japanese architecture. Painting themes for shōhekiga were selected in terms of what would be the most appropriate for the nature and use of a building or room at the time the paintings were installed. The general tendency was to choose bright, lively themes for public reception areas, and more relaxed and informal painting themes for rooms for private use. In addition, layers of other factors were considered in such choices, including the special features of the room in question, the tastes of the time and the preferences of the person commissioning the works. Thus, if we know the nature of the building, room or people who used the space involved, we can surmise the meaning of the images and painting themes that were selected for that space. 6.4.1 Wall and Panel Paintings (Shōhekiga) in the Imperial Palaces First let’s look at the Imperial Palace in Kyoto, an architectural complex with a long tradition of wall and panel paintings. The Imperial Palace was both the emperor’s residence and the government office buildings where various public duties and rituals were carried out. Thus the Imperial Palace compound is a collection of diverse buildings, ranging from the Shishinden used for rituals to the Tsune Goten structure used for everyday living. In addition to the quarters used specifically by the emperor himself, there were also structures within the palace compound for the empress and higher-ranking members of the imperial family. Given that the imperial compound is located in the middle of an urban Kyoto neighborhood, it has been repeatedly rebuilt after the many natural and manmade disasters that have struck over the course of its long history. The present-day Kyoto Imperial Palace was rebuilt at the end of the Edo period, in 1855 (Ansei 2). Each rebuilding of the Imperial Palace is identified by the imperial reign period under which it was done, and thus the current iteration is known as the Ansei palace after its Ansei era rebuilding. Written records of the painting themes used in the palace’s wall and panel paintings remain from seven rebuildings of the palace compound beginning with the Kan’ei palace rebuilding in the early Edo period. Records of painting themes and locations  also remain for the Jōō, Kanbun, Enpō, Hōei, Kansei and Ansei era rebuildings.

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The following list of the building and room names where karako images were used on the palace’s wall paintings has been extracted from information in Fujioka Michio’s Kyoto gosho (Kyoto Imperial Palace).14 Kan’ei palace: Tsune Goten (quarters used for the Emperor’s everyday life), from the eastern side of Naka-dōri passage to Ni-no-ma (the second room), “Court Ladies and Karako painting,” Hōgan [Kanō Tan’yū] Jōō palace: Tsune Goten, from the northeast to Dai-ni-no-ma (the second room), “Karako,” Geki (a type of office administrator) [Kanō Atsunobu?] Kanbun palace: Tsune Goten, Yoru Goten (night residence), “Karako,” Eishin [Kanō Yasunobu] Enpō palace: Nyōgo Goten (Osato Goten, quarters used as a maternity ward for the empress and secondary consorts), Jōdan (the Upper Room), “Karako,” Eishin Kirokusho (record office), “Karako and the Six Arts,” Kōtari Jōan Hōei palace: Southern end of the veranda at the carriageway entry porch, cedar door, “Hotei and Karako,” Kurokawa Motohisa Around the northern corner of the carriageway entry porch, cedar door, “Hotei and Karako,” Kanō Dōshun Kansei palace: Carriageway entry porch, cedar door, “Chinese Children at Play,” Iba Naizen Ansei palace: Wakamiya Goten (the crown prince’s quarters), San-no-onma (the third room), “Chinese Children at Play,” Kaya Tomotaka Ohai-michi corridor, cedar door, “Chinese Children at Play,” Yoshida Motoshige 14  

Fujioka 1982. 寛永度:  常御殿　中通東より二ノ間「官女唐子の絵」法眼(探幽) 承応度:  常御所　北東より第二ノ間「唐子」外記(敦信?) 寛文度:  常御殿　夜御殿「唐子」永真(安信) 延宝度:  女御御殿(御里御殿)上段「唐子」永真

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In sum, the above list reveals that in the Kan’ei, Jōō and Kanbun palaces, which were rebuilt between the early and the mid-17th century, karako images were painted on the Emperor’s private quarters in the Tsune Goten, particularly around his sleeping quarters. The major painters of the day, such as Kanō Tan’yū, Kanō Yasunobu and Kanō Atsunobu, were responsible for those paintings. As regards the Enpō palace rebuilt in the late 17th Century, karako images were painted in the Nyōgo Osato Goten. This structure was used as a maternity ward for the empress and secondary consorts. According to Ozawa Asae, who has studied the functions and meanings of the Nyōgo Osato Goten, karako imagery was used in the wall and panel paintings of this structure not only in the Enpō palace, but also in the early 18th-century Hōei palace.15 Karako imagery was painted in the Wakamiya Goten in the 19th century Ansei palace. The Wakamiya Goten is located near the empress’s quarters and was a facility for the crown prince. There are no karako paintings in the wall and panel paintings of the neighboring Himemiya Goten for imperial daughters. In addition to their appearance on interior walls and panels, karako imagery was also painted on the cedar doors arranged on the outside of buildings in corridors and entryways. Judging from the above, we can surmise the meaning of the use of karako imagery in the Imperial Palace. Can we not infer then that the places where the karako imagery appeared – namely sleeping quarters, birthing quarters and the crown prince’s quarters – had the function of either “making children” or “birthing children” or were “children’s quarters”? At the very least, based

15

記録所「唐子六芸」神足常庵 宝永度:  車寄落縁南行当・杉戸「布袋唐子」黒川元寿 御車寄北折廻リ之所・杉戸「布袋唐子」狩野洞春 寛政度:  御車寄・杉戸「唐子遊」伊庭内膳 安政度:  若宮御殿・三之御間「唐子遊」栢友篤 御拝道廊下・杉戸「唐子遊」吉田元鎮 Karako imagery painted on walls and panel paintings in the Osato Goten (Ozawa 2004):

Enpō palace: Jōdan (upper room), “Karako” First Hōei palace: Jōdan, “Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play” Second Hōei palace: Roku-no-ma (sixth room), “Chinese Children at Play” 延宝度: 上段「唐子」 宝永度I: 上段「官女唐子遊」 宝永度II: 六の間「唐子遊」

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on current investigations, we can see that the places where karako imagery occurred were limited to those areas related to children and women, and thus can suggest a connection between the connotation of the paintings – prosperity through many descendents – and the room’s function. However, in the case of the cedar door panel paintings, where a diverse array of painting themes were depicted bit by bit, they could be in areas unrelated to these functions, such as a carriageway entry porch. I would also like to note that karako imagery did not appear over and over again in the same place in each succeeding rebuilding of the palace, but rather moved from sleeping quarter to birthing room to children’s room. While reference materials do not exist today to indicate whether this shift in their positioning was intentional or not, it is nevertheless a fascinating change. At first, karako imagery was painted in the private spaces used by the emperor. While we cannot clearly say whether or not this placement was directly linked to the notion of “success through many descendents,” it can be said that it would have been a motif that would have been familiar to the emperor. Kanō Tan’yū, who painted karako images in the wall and panel paintings of the emperor’s sleeping quarter, is known to have created superb karako theme folding screens, and we can surmise that in the 17th century his depictions of karako were quite popular. Later, the examples of karako imagery from the mid Edo period onwards reveal the previously noted trend towards decorative embellishment. The change to this decorative embellishment and the change in the Imperial Palace to the use of karako imagery in the rooms intended for women can be seen as related to their time period. While we don’t know which change came first – which was the chicken, which was the egg – it seems that as karako imagery became more feminine (i.e. decorative and cute), karako imagery became recognized as a “for women” painting theme. We can thus imagine that in this transformation gradually karako imagery became a subject matter less likely to be used for wall paintings in areas used by adult males. To further extend this surmise, we might imagine that the combination of karako with Hotei and Guo Ziyi may have been necessary as an excuse for men to appreciate the karako imagery that appeared to them to be too cute. In the late Edo period, this transition advanced even further, with the karako subject changing from one suitable for women to one suitable for children. At this stage, it seems that rather than as an auspicious painting symbolizing fecundity, the karako imagery used in the Imperial Palace was used by young boys as a projection of themselves. In the present-day Kyoto Imperial Palace, in other words the Ansei palace, Chinese Children at Play imagery is painted in the San-no-ma (the third

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Figure 6.7 Kaya Tomotaka, detail of Chinese Children at Play, Ansei era (1854–1859), San-no-ma (third room), Wakamiya Goten (crown prince’s quarters), Imperial Palace, Kyoto.

room), one of four rooms in the Wakamiya Goten (Fig. 6.7). The San-no-ma room is made up of 12 fusuma sliding wall panels and 4 sliding door panels. In other words, karako imagery makes up the four interior walls of the room. The paintings depict one older girl while all the rest of the figures are young male karako. They are shown in myriad acts, from playing with toys to clowning around with animals, painting pictures, playing go and sailing boats. One impressive scene shows a group of karako working together to pull a cart laden with a massive flower basket. The small children and the gorgeous basket sumptuously decorated with peonies and chrysanthemums form an amusing contrast. A painter named Kaya Tomotaka created these paintings. While details about his career are not known, he is thought to have been a descendent of Kaya Hanbei, a student of Ishida Yūtei, a painter who was involved in the work on the Kansei palace. The painting style seen in these works also suggest that Kaya was a member of the same Tsuruzawa lineage of the Kanō school as Ishida. While more would be understood if we could compare Kaya’s paintings with the earlier karako imagery at the Imperial Palace, particularly the imagery painted by Tan’yū and Yasunobu, at this point I cannot locate any other historical materials which would clarify the imagery of the early Edo period wall and panel paintings in the Imperial Palace. 6.4.2 The Wall and Panel Paintings (Shōhekiga) of Edo Castle In spite of the differences between emperor and shogun, the shogun’s main seat, Edo Castle, resembled the Imperial Palace both in terms of function and construct. The Honmaru Goten of Edo Castle was both the shogun’s residence and the head office of the shogunal government. A massive building complex, the Edo Castle Honmaru (Main Citadel) was divided into three districts: Omote, where public business and duties were carried out; the Nakaoku, where the shogun resided; and the Ōoku, where the shogun’s official wife, concubines and the other women connected to the shogun resided. In addition to the

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Honmaru complex, there were also residence areas in the Nishinomaru (Western Citadel) and Ninomaru (Outer Citadel) compounds. The wall and panel paintings of Edo Castle were all destroyed in fires that occurred from the end of Edo period through the beginning of the Meiji period. However, today the Tokyo National Museum preserves a large number of smallscale preparatory drawings that were used during the Kōka era (1844–1848) rebuilding of the Honmaru and the Tenpō era (1830–1844) rebuilding of the Nishinomaru. The Museum published illustrations and materials related to these drawings in the volume Edojō shōhekiga no shita-e (Preparatory Drawings for Wall and Panel Paintings of Edo Castle).16 These drawings are miniature scale drawings created during the wall and panel painting production process for use in inspecting and confirming imagery. Today these Edo Castle drawings are preserved in handscroll format. There is also a detailed listing of the subjects and painters of the Edo Castle wall and panel paintings found in the “Kyūden hissha” (painters of the palaces) section of the Koga bikō.17 Further, 16 17

Tokyo National Museum 1989. Painting subjects related to karako in the “List of painters for the wall paintings for the new construction of the Great Castle” in Koga Bikō, vol. 45 “Kyūden hissha” (“Painters of the Palaces”): [Cedar Doors Section] Cedar door at the exit of Okozashiki (small reception room) to the new corridor, one ken [a Japanese unit of length in Japan, 1 ken is equal to 6 shaku, 1 shaku is approximately 30 cm], Chinese Children at Play and Irises, the Nishinomaru page and the Lord of Izumi, Ōkubo, in the Chinese painting style [The Ōoku District] Karako-no-ma (karako room), [Kanō] Tan’en Small fusuma (sliding doors) Okozashiki (small reception room) in the Kami Osuzu corridor (Upper Bell corridor), small fusuma of staggered shelves, 4 pieces of the lower section, Japanese Children at Play, Naiki Goza-no-ma (sitting room), small fusuma of staggered shelves, 2 pieces of the lower section, Chinese Children at Play, [Kanō] Tōsen Ichi-no Goten (first residence), small fusuma, 4 pieces of the lower section, Chinese Children Pulling a Flower Cart, Okubōzu Ryōkyū Ditto, Okeshō-no-ma (dressing room), small fusuma, 4 pieces of the lower section, Sima Guang, Tōjō Yaichirō Corner room, small fusuma, 4 pieces of the upper section, Chinese Children at Play, Nakayama Chūji Cedar Doors Taimen-dokoro (meeting room), cedar doors, 9 shaku, Chinese Children at Play with Chrysanthemum Fence, [Kanō] Tōhaku

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the wall and panel painting production process is also known from the Kōyō nikki (Public Diary) by the official shogunal painter, Kanō Seisen’in Osanobu.18 To the extent possible through an investigation of the above materials, I have not found any depiction of karako in either the Omote or Nakaoku districts of the Edo Castle Honmaru. Regarding the Ōoku district, the Koga bikō “Kyūden hissha” section notes that the “Karako-no-ma” wall and panel paintings of the Matsu Goten were painted by Kanō Tan’en. The Matsu Goten was also known as the Shin Goten and was the residence of the shogun’s wife. The Ōoku complex was the most private space within the entire Honmaru Goten complex, and within the Ōoku there were further subdivisions of public and private spaces. The Taimen-dokoro, literally place for meetings, was a building that functioned in a similar fashion to the Omote district of the Honmaru Matsu Goten, Kyūsoku-no-ma (retiring room), corridor with tatami mat, cedar doors, 9 shaku, Hotei, Karako, Young Pine and Pheasants, [Kanō] Shōsen[‘in] Goza-no-ma (sitting room), the cedar door behind the seats of honor, 1 ken, Chinese Children at Play, Fishing, Arranging Flowers and Small Birds, Sakadaru The entrance of the Shimo Osuzu corridor (Lower Bell corridor), cedar doors, 9 shaku, Pines and Cranes, Hotei and Karako, [Kanō] Shōsen[‘in] Okyaku Zashiki (guest room), south side, cedar doors, 9 shaku, Children Cutting Grass, Mountains, Golden Bells and Eagles, [Kanō] Seisetsu Ditto, cedar doors, 9 shaku, Children Playing Music, Irises and Gallinules, ditto

18

御杉戸之部   御小座敷御新廊下出口御杉戸一間〈唐子遊 杜若〉西丸御小姓大久保和泉守 唐画 大奥之方 　唐子之間　探淵 　御小襖之部 上御鈴御小座敷御違棚御小襖〈下四枚倭子遊〉　内記 御座間御違棚御小襖〈下二枚唐子遊〉　董川 壱之御殿御小襖〈下四枚花車引唐子〉　奥坊主良久 同御化粧之間小襖〈下四枚司馬温公〉　東条弥一郎 隅之部屋小襖〈上四枚唐子遊〉　中山鍮次 御杉戸之部 御対面所御杉戸　九尺〈唐子遊 垣ニ菊〉　洞白 松御殿御休息御入側御杉戸　九尺〈布袋唐子 若松雉子〉　勝川 御座間御上段後御杉戸　一間〈唐子遊 釣花活小鳥〉　酒樽 下御鈴口御杉戸　九尺〈松ニ鶴 布袋唐子〉　勝川 御客座敷南側御杉戸　九尺〈草苅童子 大山蓮ぎやう鷲〉　晴雪 御同所杉戸　九尺〈楽童子 杜若ニ鷭〉　同 Tokyo National Museum 1989, “Main texts volume” reprints the sections related to the period before and after the building of the Honmaru and Nishinomaru.

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Goten, while the Matsu Goten was the private space for the shogun’s wife within the greater Ōoku complex. Thus the Karako-no-ma was a private space for women. Unfortunately the images used on this room’s wall and panel paintings do not remain in the small preparatory drawing materials, and thus it is hard to determine the exact iconography used in the room. If we expand the scope of our consideration to the small fusuma panels used in shelving units (fukurotodana) and cedar door paintings, we find painting themes related to karako. In the Ōoku complex, records indicate that there were two small fusuma panels depicting Chinese Children at Play, one panel depicting Chinese Children Pulling a Flower Cart, one panel depicting Sima Guang, and one panel depicting Japanese Children at Play. In terms of cedar door paintings, there are two examples of Chinese Children at Play, two of Hotei and Chinese Children, two of children cutting grass, and one image of children playing music. Compared to the single recorded instance of a Chinese Children at Play image on a cedar door in the Kozashiki (the small reception room) of the Omote and Nakaoku districts of the Castle, it is apparent at first glance that there are an overwhelmingly larger number of examples found in the Ōoku district. In addition to materials from the Honmaru reconstructions, the miniature preparatory drawings collection in the Tokyo National Museum also includes drawings from the Tenpō era rebuilding of the Nishinomaru. The Nishinomaru complex was used as either the main residence of retired shoguns or the residence for shogunal heirs. Like the Honmaru complex, the Nishinomaru complex consisted of Omote, Nakaoku and Ōoku building districts. The Museum publication mentioned above indicates that Chinese Children at Play imagery appeared on four small upper fusuma paintings of the Nakaoku Kyūsokuno-ma (the resting room of Nakaoku). This is the only extant visual image of a karako painting in the Nishinomaru complex found in my current investigations of paintings at Edo Castle. The painter was Kanō Seisen’in Osanobu, the central figure in the Tenpō era rebuilding project. The Kyūsoku-no-ma building was a private living space in the inner area of the Nakaoku district. I have organized the above fragmentary information in the following manner. – Within the Edo Castle complex overall, karako imagery was a rare element within the Edo Castle residences, whose decoration focused on birds and flowers, famous sites and narrative themes. – Karako-related painting themes were focused in the Ōoku district of the Honmaru Goten. – Other than the Ōoku district, karako imagery was limited to only one section of the private structures in the complex.

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In this manner, the areas within both the Imperial Palace and Edo Castle where karako imagery appeared share the same characteristics. We have confirmed that there was a tendency to depict karako imagery in private rather than public spaces, such as the Ōoku, Tsune Goten and Nyōgo Goten. In other words, within the theme of this current volume, “intimate realm and public realm,” these images belong within the “intimate realm.” Because the Imperial Palace and Edo Castle were residences that incorporated a parallel structure of private and public elements, we can arrange and compare other factors involved in their painting production, such as the status and talents of the painters involved and the year the works were created, to fathom the meaning of the painting themes selected. 6.4.3 Folding Screens (Byōbu) There are also some examples of folding screens (byōbu) whose use and production process are known. Indeed, intensive investigation of historical records would reveal a considerable number of notations, and here I will introduce a few of the works I have actually seen. First, the historical record Tenmei rokunen aratame, byōbu mokuroku (Catalog of Folding Screens, revised 1786, Imahie Jinja Shrine, Kyoto) is a record of folding screens used in the Imperial Palace. The catalog discusses folding screens (byōbu) and single-panel screens (tsuitate) in such general categories as use, materials and finish. Of the 192 total listings, two depict karako imagery. One of the two was a tsuitate single-panel screen for the “everyday use” of the emperor, Chinese Children at Play in the Snow by Katsuyama Takushū, and the other was a pair of gold ground folding screens Four Seasons of Chinese Children at Play by Sakagami Yōhaku for use in the imperial consorts’ quarters, or Nyōgo Goten. Here too, images of karako were used in either the emperor’s private space or women’s space. The screens used in the Imperial Palace were created not only by Kyotobased painters; there were also instances of screens made by the shogunate’s official painters. In the Kōyō nikki by Kanō Seisen’in, there is a record of screens made in 1838 (Tenpō 9) for presentation to the Imperial Palace.19 The following is the diary listing of the recipient and their corresponding painting subjects. Kinri (Emperor): Spring and Autumn Landscapes in Yamato-e style, Chinesestyle Scenes of Rice Cultivation 19

Tokyo National Museum 1989, “Main texts volume,” p. 182. The records related to folding screens for presentation use in 1837 (Tenpō 9), intercalary 4th month, 27th day in Kanō Seisen’in’s Kōyō Nikki:

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Sendō (Retired Emperor): Twelve Views of Famous Sites, Chinese-style Landscapes of the Four Seasons Ōmiya (Empress Dowager): Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play Shin’nō (Imperial Prince): Flower Basket in Flower Cart Junkō (Emperor’s Wife): Didactic Stories for Emperors (Teikan) It is extremely fascinating to note which painting themes were selected for which members of the imperial family. The screens depicting Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play were presented to the Empress Dowager. In addition, the Kōyō nikki includes a section on the production of folding screens for the trousseaux of shogunal family daughters.20 The production of such trousseau items was another important task of the shogunate’s ­official To Kinri (Emperor) Small folding screen with ancient style mounting, Spring and Autumn Landscapes in Yamato-e style, a pair, Kanō Shōsen[‘in]. Small folding screen with normal mounting, Chinese-style Scenes of Rice Cultivation, a pair, Kanō Seisen’in. To Sendō (Retired Emperor) Small folding screen with ancient style mounting, Twelve Views of Famous Sites, a pair, Kanō Seisen’in. Small folding screen with normal mounting, Chinese-style Landscapes of the Four Seasons, a pair, Kanō Shōsen[‘in]. To Ōmiya (Empress Dowager): Small folding screen with normal mounting, Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play, a pair, Kanō Yūsei; To Shin’nō (Imperial Prince) Ditto, Flower Basket in Flower Cart, a pair, Kanō Tan’en. Junkō (Emperor’s Wife) Ditto, Didactic Stories for Emperors (Teikan), a pair, Kanō Kōsen 禁裏江  銭形御小屏風　大和絵春秋山水　一双　狩野勝川 尋常御小屏風　唐耕作　一双　狩野晴川院 仙洞江 銭形御小屏風　名所十二景　一双　狩野晴川院 尋常小屏風　四季唐山水　一双　狩野勝川 大宮江 尋常御小屏風　官女唐子遊　一双　狩野祐清 親王江 同　　花車花籠　一双　狩野探淵 准后江 同　　帝鑑　一双　狩野幸川 20 Tokyo National Museum 1989, “Main texts volume,” p. 278.

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painters. The furnishings and equipment taken from the shogunal family to other clan lord families upon the marriage of shogunal daughters were required to show the splendor of the shogun’s family. Because these items were only needed for the shogunal daughters, the officials in charge of the production of the trousseau items determined the items and their contents based on earlier trousseau examples. The Kōyō nikki records this referring to earlier examples process. In specific detail, in 1839 (Tenpō 10), Princess Yasuhime, the 27th daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, was married to Ikeda Narimichi, daimyō clan lord of the Tottori clan. In order to determine which painting subjects to use on trousseau screens for this wedding, the Kōyō nikki listed the types of screens and their painting topics included in recent trousseaux, namely those of the four shogunal daughters Morihime, Yōhime, Suehime and Kiyohime. The list shows that a set of screens was made that consisted of four  pairs of large-scale folding screens, two pairs of mediumscale folding screens, two pairs of half-height folding screens, one pair of twofold screens and three tsuitate single-panel screens. The majority of the painting subjects for these screens were taken from The Tale of Genji, famous sites, and bird and flower themes, while one of the single-panel screens included karako imagery. Incidentally, other than the single-panel screens, the remaining screens shared the same basic subject matter, with some differentiation in details. For example, different scenes were selected from the same chapter of The Tale of Genji. Conversely, the subjects for the three single-panel screens are listed as “Cherry Blossom Viewing from a Palace,” “Chinese Children at Play” and “Yamato-e Landscape.” These were noted as “fixed from the beginning” and thus it would seem that they were the established themes for trousseau screens during this period. Naturally, when a woman became a bride, it was expected that she would bear children, and thus I would like to think that it was not accidental that the Chinese Children at Play painting theme was always selected. According to the records noted above, as regards the place and circumstance for the usage of karako imagery in the folding screens, exactly the same keywords – namely private, women, children – are applicable as in the case of wall and panel paintings. 6.4.4 Buddhist Temples and Karako Imagery: Tenkyū-in and Reikanji As we have seen above, it would seem that karako imagery and its usage was fundamentally linked in some fashion to the auspicious meaning of “prosperity through descendants.” In that regard, now let us consider the wall and panel paintings in the Tenkyūin sub-temple of Kyoto’s Myōshinji temple. Tenkyūin is renowned for the sensitive rendering of the Grasses and Flowers with Bamboo Fence, Tigers in Bamboo and Birds and Flowers painted on the

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Figure 6.8 Kanō Sansetsu, Chinese Children Enacting the Four Gentlemanly Arts, mid-Edo period (17th century), Ichi-no-ma ( first room) of the Kami-no-ma (upper rooms), Tenkyūin, Myōshinji, Kyoto.

fusuma in the abbot’s quarters (hōjō). These are heralded as major works by Kanō Sansetsu, and considered some of the masterpieces of Momoyama to early Edo period gold ground wall and panel paintings. In fact, while rarely published, there are also karako images at Tenkyūin. The Ichi-no-ma (the first room) of the Kami-no-ma (the upper rooms) has wall and panel paintings depicting Chinese legends in ink painting. The lower board panels of shoji in this room depict Urashima and Chinese Children, while the paintings on the shoji board panels in the attached Shoin rooms depict Chinese Children Enacting the Four Gentlemanly Arts (Fig. 6.8). These painting compositions are independent, and not connected to or continuations of the images painted on other fusuma panels or tokonoma (alcove) walls. In the Four Arts painting, karako are shown dancing to the music of a zither (qin), while other karako fight while playing Chinese chess (go). The calligraphy scene shows two karako, each of them trying to paint the companion’s face with ink, while the painting scene shows one karako figure clasping a puppy as another karako figure paints its image. Indeed, these paintings present truly playful, child-like scenes. Here we are reminded of the process by which this temple was established. A Bizen Ikeda family daughter, known as Tenkyūin (with a different character for kyū than the temple name), built this temple in 1631 (Kan’ei 8) for the permanent repose of her own soul. Historical records regarding the production of the temple’s wall and panel paintings do not exist, but the works are thought to date from the founding of the temple. The unusual feature of this temple is the fact it was built specifically for one person – a woman who had by choice become a Buddhist nun. This woman by the name of Tenkyūin had been married to Yamazaki Iemori, lord of Wakasa Castle in Inaba, but she later left her

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husband, returned to her birth family, to remain alone and childless. It is said that when the temple was being built the workers found a jewel in the ground, and this led to its name, Tenkyūin, which means “heavenly sphere temple.”21 As seen from some of the examples cited above, the use of karako imagery in buildings and spaces created for women is not in itself unusual. However, the use of karako imagery is thought to have been governed by both a sense of auspiciousness, and some sense of the “prosperity of descendents” concept. And yet, in the case of Tenkyūin, the structure was a temple built for a woman who had forsaken her husband and her marriage, and thus does not symbolize the auspiciousness of the commissioner of the temple herself bearing children. So how would a childless woman view the guileless forms of karako? The karako imagery definitely imparts an auspicious air to spaces used for some sort of ritual, or spaces that reflect the importance of tradition. But in the case of Tenkyūin, none of these conditions apply. However, if we consider examples of temples that have superior karako imagery created in the form of wall or panel paintings in the Edo period, the first place that comes to mind is Reikanji, an Imperial Convent located in the Higashiyama district of Kyoto (Figs. 6.9–6.11). The karako paintings at Reikanji are characterized by the fact that the karako are extremely small in relationship to their background motifs and appear in great number. The center of the composition is located in the recessed wall

Figure 6.9 Jōdan-no-ma (upper room), Shoin (study), Reikanji, Kyoto. 21

Tsuji 1967.

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Figure 6.10 Floor Plan and List of Painting Subjects on the Wall and Panel Paintings in the Shoin, Reikanji, Kyoto.

Figure 6.11 D  etail of Court Ladies and Chinese Children at Play, mid-Edo period, 18th century, Shoin, Reikanji, Kyoto.

space (tokonoma) of the Jodan-no-ma (the upper room). A section of a palace is depicted as background, and numerous karako appear both inside that palace and its forecourt. The central figures in this area are the mother and serving woman who look after the children. These adult women appear here and there in other sections of the wall painting composition outside of the tokonoma. Thus, rather than a simple karako imagery painting, the subject of this painting can be thought to be the Court Ladies and Chinese Children Playing

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imagery frequently mentioned in the historical documents related to the Imperial Palace and Edo Castle. Turning our attention to areas in the composition outside of the tokonoma, the narrative element develops through images of children bursting forth from the depicted buildings in energetic play, and racing through fields and hills. The backgrounds for these sections resemble traditional grasses and flowers genre painting motifs, and the cuteness of the plants competes with the cuteness of the children. Temple tradition states that this temple was built in 1687 (Jōkyō 4) when sections of the palace built by Retired Emperor Gosai were moved to the site. However, the wall and panel paintings were changed when the structures were moved, and thus it is highly likely that the paintings were created for a building other than their present location. These wall and panel paintings that extend across three rooms are not all made up of karako imagery, there is also a mixture of bird and flower motifs in the compositions. The paintings in the Jōdanno-ma make up one whole room of only karako imagery, while the Ni-no-ma (the second room) and San-no-ma (the third room) contain a mixture of karako imagery and bird and flower imagery, such as large-scale plum trees and peonies. In the Jōdan-no-ma, looking straight up from the lower level tatami mats in the outer rooms to the raised platform of tatami mats (jōdan), the tokonoma takes a central position and the karako imagery is unified over the space. In the Ni-no-ma and the San-no-ma, bird and flower paintings form the flanking sides of the room. Further, the fusuma sliding door panels that form the wall between the Ni-no-ma and the San-no-ma show separated painting themes, with the two panels on the left depicting karako and the two panels on the right depicting bird and flower themes. If the buildings and the fusuma paintings were both presented to the temple as a set, and if they were reconstructed in the form of their original palace arrangement, then this type of asymmetry would not have occurred. Thus, in sum, it can be thought that the wall and panel paintings originally made for some other building were brought, re-arranged and used here. The wall and panel paintings are high quality examples of Kanō school work. Given their sumptuous handling incorporating large amounts of gold dust, along with a consideration of the close connection between Reikanji, an Imperial Convent and the Imperial Palace, undoubtedly these wall and panel paintings were originally related to the Imperial Palace itself. In terms of period of production, they can be thought to date from around the 18th century, when the decorative trend in karako imagery had advanced to this degree. The intricately elegant and refined beauty of the depiction makes it highly likely that the works were created for the palaces used by women in the Imperial Palace

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compound. Furuta Ryō has suggested that these paintings were the “Chinese Children at Play” works by Tsuruzawa Tangei (1687–1769), documented in the Roku-no-ma (the sixth room) of the Osato Goten in the Imperial Palace compound rebuilt in the 2nd period of the Hōei era.22 Considering the characteristic depiction of the trees, and the flatly applied and layered areas of color, the style of these works is close to that of Tangei and we can fully entertain the validity of Furuta’s proposed source. Next, let us consider this group of paintings as a unified whole. The themes of karako and birds and flowers harmonize extremely well, and at first glance it is hard to recognize that they are a blend of different elements. Probably this arrangement speaks fully of the tastes of the princess-turned-nun who commissioned the building and arranged the paintings to her own liking. When the structures and paintings from the Imperial Palace were received and the temple buildings constructed, there were numerous examples, primarily in Kyoto, of the recombining of different groups of wall and panel paintings. However, this level of harmonization between the rooms and paintings from different original groups is rare. In summation, the Reikanji wall and panel paintings were moved to the site from another building, but they can be considered to have been assembled as the wall and panel paintings of Reikanji, and are absolutely not a simply random mélange. They were reassembled and grouped as a realm of “Court Ladies and Chinese Children Amongst the Birds and Flowers of the Four Seasons” suitable as wall and panel paintings for an Imperial Convent. As in the case of Tenkyūin, mentioned above, the main figures of this temple were women who themselves did not have children. Thus, viewed solely from the aspect of karako imagery as an auspicious painting theme praying for prosperity through descendants, there is some irony in such a theme chosen for such a location. However, what I imagine when I look at these beautifully composed three rooms of the Shoin structure at Reikanji, is that it is actually a dreaming place for a woman who greatly enjoyed, and sought to live surrounded by, such delightful and wistful things. Young girls of the imperial household usually entered the temple life sometime between the ages of 7 to 12.23 In a sense, it is hard to imagine what it was like for these girls who entered the Imperial Convents at such an impressionable young age, leaving behind the familiar environment in which they had been born and raised. However, looking at the dolls and beautiful decorative arts that have been handed down in these settings, they convey a sense of one 22 23

Furuta 2009. Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2009, p. 112.

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aspect of the pleasures of a convent lifestyle spent surrounded by cute things. We might thus surmise how the karako imagery was sought after, not only in the wall and panel paintings of Reikanji, but also in painting in general, as one of the beloved treasures of such people. The above discussion considers the paintings of children in Japan, focusing on karako imagery. This imagery, which evokes such keywords as private, feminine, adorable, and fecundity, was a form of painting enjoyed within the private or intimate realms of life quarters. Their uses and aims were to express auspiciousness, including prosperity through descendants, but they were not only symbols of auspiciousness. Karako imagery wall and panel paintings, along with dolls and other such furnishings, constructed “a space of playful joy.” The perceived outward “cuteness” of children per se does change across time and region, and the art that expresses such cuteness does change greatly by period. Not all aspects of children’s cuteness as perceived in the Edo period are easily comprehended by people today. A history of karako imagery and the changes within that imagery can provide us with a key to an understanding of the ideal imagery of children as innately inscribed in the hearts of people in any period.

Chapter 7

The Development of the Doll Festival as Seen in Paintings: Focusing on Edo Period Family Actions* Miyazaki Momo 7.1 Introduction Since antiquity Japan has marked the seasonal change days designated as sechinichi 節日 (seasonal day) amidst each year’s seasonal range. On those days offerings were made to the gods, and special rites carried out to banish impurities and pray for peace. Which days were considered sechinichi changed with the different periods. However, in particular, dates that were odd-numbered in odd-numbered months, such as the 1st day of the 1st month, the 3rd day of the 3rd month, the 5th day of the 5th month, the 7th day of the 7th month and the 9th day of the 9th month came to be recognized as major sechinichi dates. In the midst of this development process, the term sekku 節供 (seasonal offering), which was originally used to refer to offerings to the gods, also came to mean sechinichi days themselves. In addition, sekku 節句, with a different, but homonymous, second character, became common by the Edo period. Then, the five sechinichi days noted above came to be known in general as the go-sekku, or five seasonal days, and they came to be the main festival days of the shogunal government. In this chapter, the term sekku refers to these two meanings: sekku (seasonal offering) and sechinichi (seasonal day). Each sekku festival day was based on the original Chinese rites associated with the day, and traditional Japanese customs grew up around it. A set of ­specific rites were carried out on each day, including particular theatrical ­performances or involving decorations, foods, etc. The sekku rites became a part of the array of traditional practices known as nenjū gyōji annual rites, which were customarily carried out at specific times throughout the year. The nenjū gyōji rites were one of the traditional painting themes in Japan and they are closely linked to paintings. The nenjū gyōji were carried out season by season each year, but over the course of time, we can see periods of the rise and fall of these annual rites. Along with the cultural and social changes that occur over time, the rites also went through changes. In this regard, one of the main * Translation from Japanese into English: Martha J. McClintock.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_008

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c­ haracteristics of the Edo period was the rise of rites celebrated by families for their children. The 3rd day of the 3rd month, the First Snake Day in the traditional calendar, came to be widely celebrated from the Edo period onwards as Hinamatsuri or Doll Festival, which is one example of family-based festivals for children. The rise of family festivals indicates the change of the family system. Based on this point of view, this chapter analyzes several paintings which depict the Doll Festival (Hinamatsuri) and Doll Festival dolls (hina-ningyō). Through this analysis, it will be clear which character the Doll Festival had in original and how it develops throughout the Edo period. While the bloom of family consumption spurs the development of the Doll Festival, the change of the festival as well as of the family system offers new themes to the Edo paintings. 7.2

Changes in the First Snake Day Rites

First, this section will confirm what kind of characteristics can be seen in the setting for the Doll Festival and the people who held Doll Festivals, through a comparison of two important rites carried out also on the 3rd day of the 3rd month, namely the banquet at the winding stream (kyokusui-no-en) and cockfights (tori awase). Early records of special rites held on the 3rd day of the 3rd month include the “banquet at a winding stream” in which poets float their wine cups in a flowing stream and write poetry. The winding stream banquet was of course Chinese in origin. In ancient China, it was the custom to hold a purification ritual on the first snake day in the 3rd month at a river setting. The First Snake Day actually fell on a different day every year, but from around the Wei dynasty of the Three Kingdoms era onwards, the rituals were carried out on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. This waterside purification ritual changed around the Six Dynasties period onward into an elegant banquet where participants floated their cups down the flowing stream, and this custom was also handed down in Japan as a traditional feature. The first record of the winding stream banquet appears in the entry for the First Snake Day of the 3rd month of the first year of Emperor Kenzō’s reign (485) in the Nihon Shoki, and states that the emperor held a winding stream banquet in the imperial garden.1 The number of records of such banquets particularly increases in the 8th century. For example, the Shoku Nihongi records that “On the 3rd day of the 3rd month [in 728, Jinki 5 during Emperor Shōmu’s reign], the emperor held a banquet at the imperial pond with officials above the fifth rank, and gave them rewards. 1 「幸後苑。曲水宴」 Nihon Shoki, vol. 15, reprinted in Kokushi Taikei Henshukai 1966a.

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Poets were also invited to recite poems for the ritual and were given silk as rewards. Many people, from lower officials up to imperial princesses, received gifts.”2 The growing number of records indicates that the winding stream banquet became a standard rite held on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. During the Heian period, the practice was temporarily halted by Emperor Heizei, but it flourished again during the regency period, and the rituals of the 3rd day of the 3rd month was noted in the Seikyū ki (latter half of the 10th century) with its compilation of the rites and events held at the imperial court.3 The winding stream banquet was held as an official court ritual from the Nara to the Heian periods. The above-mentioned records in Shoku Nihongi4 and Seikyū ki5 indicate that those who appeared before the emperor for this event were the imperial princes and members of the aristocracy above a certain rank, and that it was held not amongst personal connections but rather amongst those publicly connected by their rank at court. On the other hand, during the regency period, guests were invited to private villas where winding stream banquets were held, and thus it became a case of both public and private rituals. As is well known, Fujiwara Michinaga held a winding stream banquet;6 both the hosts and the invited guests at these private events were primarily powerful members of the upper aristocracy. These winding stream banquet events flourished from the Nara through the Heian periods, but gradually the practice waned during the Kamakura and Muromachi periods when cockfights replaced it as the event for 3rd day of the 3rd month. These cockfights were already mentioned as having occurred at the imperial court during the Heian period, but they were not particularly limited at that time to the 3rd day of the 3rd month. They first became a ritual for the 2 「三月己亥(三日)。天皇御鳥池塘。宴五位已上。賜禄有差。又召文人。令賦曲水之 詩。各賚絁十疋。布十端。内親王以下百官使部已上賜禄又有差」 Shoku Nihongi, vol. 10, reprinted in Kokushi Taikei Henshukai 1966b. 3 “[3rd month, 3rd day] 1. The emperor is present at the winding stream banquet. Imperial princes and lords participated....” 「(三月三日)一、曲水/出御。王卿参上(略)」 Mina­moto no Takaaki, Seikyū ki (Seikyū Diary), Kōrei dai ni (Regular customs, second), reprinted in Shintō Taikei Hensankai 1993. 4 See note 2. 5 See note 3. 6 “The winding stream banquet was held. Noblemen of high rank took their seats under the eaves of the east wing of the palace. Poets sat down in the southern corridor....” 「有曲水会、 東渡　所板院東西立草塾、硯台等、東対南唐廂上達部、殿上人座、南於下廊文人 座(略)」 Fujiwara no Michinaga, Midōkanpaku ki (Diary of Midōkanpaku), 1007 (Kankō 4), 3rd month, 3rd day entry, reprinted in The Historiographical Institute of The University of Tokyo and Yōmei Bunko 1952.

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3rd day of the 3rd month around the Kamakura period, and particularly in the Muromachi period, there are a large number of records of cockfights held at the imperial court.7 This suggests that it can be recognized as the set ritual for the court’s celebrations for the 3rd day of the 3rd month. Such cockfights were held not only in the imperial court, they also came to be held in the private villas of the aristocracy. Images of these cockfights can be found in the late Heian period Nenjū gyōji emaki handscroll of the annual rituals created upon the orders of the Retired Emperor Goshirakawa. The original version of the handscroll has since been lost, but there are several Edo period copy versions extant. The third scroll of the Tanaka family version copied by Sumiyoshi Jokei and other painters shows a cockfight being held at an aristocratic villa (Fig. 7.1). The cockfights were held in the garden on the south side of the residence’s main building, and thus the master of the home, and his main invited guests could watch the proceedings from inside the shinden main building, while other viewers and attendants crowded around the garden or outside the middle gate in an extremely lively scene. Unlike the winding stream banquets, a cockfight did not need the special  site of a stream flowing through a large garden, or specific educational standards in the study of waka poetry. The meant that such practices could

Figure 7.1 Sumiyoshi school, Illustrated Handscroll of the Annual Rituals (Nenjū gyōji emaki), vol. 3, early Edo period (17th century), copy after a late Heian period original (12th century), private collection. 7 “Cockfights were held at the Seiryōden.”「御とりあはせせいりやう殿にてあり」Oyudono no ue no nikki (Diary of Imperial Court Ladies), 1481 (Bunmei 13), 3rd month, 3rd day entry, reprinted in Hanawa and Ōta 1932, vol. 1; “3rd month, 3rd day, ...cockfights were held in the eastern garden as usual.” 「三月三日(略)於東庭闘鶏如常」 Washinoo Takayasu, Nisuiki (Nisui Diary), 1520 (Eishō 17), 3rd month, 3rd day entry, reprinted in The Historiographical Institute of The University of Tokyo 1989.

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Figure 7.2 Sumiyoshi school, Illustrated Handscroll of the Annual Rituals (Nenjū gyōji emaki), vol. 3, early Edo period (17th century), copy after a late Heian period original (12th century), private collection.

spread beyond the imperial court and aristocracy to become a favored activity in the homes of the military and commoner classes. This same third handscroll of the Tanaka family version shows the fervent scene of commoners watching a cockfight (Fig.  7.2). While cockfights held by the aristocracy took place in private aristocratic villas, it is noteworthy that the cockfights held by the common classes were not held in private homes, but rather in front of shrines or other spaces where the entire neighborhood could gather. The 13th scroll of the Kyoto University version of the Nenjū gyōji handscroll exceptionally shows cockfights held in gardens that are clearly not of the scale or style of aristocratic gardens. Most public rituals depicted in the Nenjū gyōji handscroll are, however, held not in commoners’ houses, but rather in front of shrines and temples, on large avenues, or in other public spaces. Much later, this characteristic siting of the event can be also seen in the Momoyama period work, Genre Scenes of the Twelve Months (Jūnikagetsu fūzoku zu) in Yamaguchi Hōshun Memorial Museum. The scenes of large groups enjoying themselves on streets or in big open areas can be found in the New Year’s scene, and in scenes featuring the 4th month flower sellers, the 5th month pebble fight (injiuchi), the 6th month Gion festival (Gion-e), the 7th month furyū dance (furyū-odori), the 9th month Zuiki festival (Zuiki-matsuri), the 10th month autumn foliage gathering, the 11th month bonfires and the 12th month playing in the snow. The “singing bush warblers competition” (uguisu awase) scene in the 2nd month and the cockfight scene in the 3rd month (Fig. 7.3), along with the moon viewing scene in the 8th month, are all set inside aristocratic villa gardens with aristocrats or military class members accompanied by their attendants. This does not mean that these sekku were not celebrated by ordinary families; it is thought that some sort of festive day meal was prepared. The paintings, however, take up the more vividly expressive rituals that normally take place as gatherings

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Figure 7.3 Attributed to Tosa Mitsuyoshi, Genre Scenes of the Twelve Months (Jūnikagetsu fūzoku zu), cockfight, Momoyama period (16th century), Yamaguchi Hōshun Memorial Museum, ICP.

of people in public spaces. This indicates that at the time the Genre Scenes of the Twelve Months was painted in the Momoyama period, the rituals conducted in private townspeople’s spaces were not yet much noticed by the art world. Even after the beginning of the Edo period, cockfights were carried out as regular rituals within the imperial court, and both the Gomizunoo-in tōji nenjū gyōji (Annual Rituals during the Time of the Retired Emperor Gomizunoo) notation of early Edo period imperial court rituals,8 and the late Edo period court rituals record, the Ka’ei Nenjū gyōji (Annual Rituals in the Ka’ei Era),9 name a cockfight as the ritual on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. But, in addition to cockfights, the Doll Festival flourished as a 3rd day of the 3rd month ritual and this custom had spread as far as the general populace. The Doll Festival was linked with the 3rd day of the 3rd month, just like the winding stream banquet, because of the connection with China’s purification ritual held on the First Snake Day. In addition to the winding stream banquet, 8 “3rd month, 3rd day, ...cockfights were held, this day, only the highest ranking participated and presented cocks.” 「(三月)三日(略) 闘鶏あり、兼日、極臈殿上人のかぎり觸催して、 各にはとりを進上す」 Emperor Gomizunoo (ed.), Gomizunoo-in tōji nenjū gyōji (Annual Rituals during the Time of the Retired Emperor Gomizunoo), reprinted in Hayakawa 1914. 9 “[3rd month, 3rd day,] nobles above the 6th rank participated and presented cocks. In the garden on the front of Sandaiden, vassals had cock fights. There was an upper row of seats and the Emperor watched the fight from behind a bamboo blind.” 「(三月三日)兼て六位蔵 人より殿上人の限り觸催し、各鶏を進上せしむ。長橋の参内殿の前庭にて、牛飼両 人鶏を合す。上段に御座を搆へ、簾中より御覧あり」 Seta Norimi, Ka’ei nenjū gyōji (Annual Rituals in the Ka’ei Era), reprinted in Kojitsu Sōsho Henshūbu 1951.

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the First Snake Day waterside purification ritual also spread to Japan, and this was linked in Japan to the custom of offerings made by katashiro (substitute). In katashiro offerings, a human figure was made in paper or grass, the impurities and problems of the maker were transferred to the paper or grass model and then, in place of the offering person, the model was thrown into the ocean or stream. The Suma chapter of the Tale of Genji describes Genji receiving purification on the First Snake Day of the 3rd month from a diviner, and placing a hitogata (human figure) in a boat and letting it drift away.10 The katashiro worship in the Heian period led to the creation of dolls known as amagatsu (divine child) or hōko (creeping baby) who were the katashiro of  infants, and they were used in prayers for keeping infants safe from all calamities. Separate from the katashiro custom, the girls of Heian period aristocratic families customarily played with small dolls known as hiina. The Momiji no ga, or Autumn Excursion chapter of the Tale of Genji recounts the scene of the young Murasaki playing with her hiina dolls.11 Playing with dolls was not 10

11

“The third month was now beginning and someone who was supposed to be well up in these matters reminded Genji that one in his circumstances would do well to perform the ceremony of Purification on the coming Festival Day. He loved exploring the coast and readily consented. It happened that a certain itinerant magician was then touring the province of Harima with no other apparatus than the crude back-scene before which he performed his incantations. Genji now sent for him and bade him perform the ceremony of Purification. Part of the ritual consisted in the loading of a little boat with a number of doll like figures and letting it float out to sea. While he watched this, Genji....” 「三月の朔 日に出で來たる巳の日、「今日は、かく思すことある人は、御禊し給ふべき」と、な まさかしき人の聞ゆれば、海面もゆかしうていで給ふ。いとおろそかに、軟障ばか りを引きめぐらして、この國に通ひける陰陽師めして、はらへせさせ給ふ。舟に、こ とことしき人形のせて、流すを見給ふ」 Murasaki Shikibu, Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji), Suma chapter, reprinted in Yamagishi 1958b. English translation is quoted from Waley 2010, p.251. “She got out her toys. There was a doll’s kitchen only three feet high but fitted out with all the proper utensils, and a whole collection of little houses which Genji had made for her. Now she had got them all spread out over the floor so that it was difficult to move without treating on them...Murasaki too went out and watched him. When she came back she put a grand dress on one of her dolls and did a performance with it which she called Prince Genji visiting the Eemperor.” 「いつしか、雛おしすゑて、そゝきゐ給へ る。三尺の御厨子一具に、品々しつらひすゑて、また、小さき屋ども作り集めて、 たてまつり給へるを、所せきまで、遊びひろげ給へり。(略)ひめ君もたち出て見た てまつり給ひて、雛の中の、源氏の君つくろひたてゝ、内に參らせなどし給ふ。」 Murasaki Shikibu, Genji monogatari (The Tale of Genji), The festival of red leaves chapter, reprinted in Yamagishi 1958a. English translation is quoted from Waley 2010, p. 134.

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something limited to specific seasons, but this girls’ pastime was combined with the custom of releasing human figurines on water on the 3rd day of the 3rd month and the amagatsu and hōko made to protect children amidst the changing customs of the day. In this process the hitogata became the hina ningyō or hina doll, and gradually the hina dolls were outfitted in more and more beautiful guises to the point where they were displayed on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. The major study related to the Doll Festival, Hinamatsuri shinkō (New Thoughts on the Doll Festival) written by Arisaka Yotarō,12 states that the first clear record of doll play taking place on the 3rd day of the 3rd month can be found in the duty diary of imperial court ladies. This book, the Oyudono no ue no nikki (Diary of Imperial Court Ladies), notes as the entry for the 4th day of the 3rd month of 1625 (Kan’ei 2) that they had received the stand and equipment used in doll play from the Empress Tōfukumon’in Masako,13 thus indicating that doll play had been held on the preceding day at the imperial palace. From the Kanbun era (1661–1673) onwards, the diaries of aristocratic men and women include many notations of doll play on the 3rd day of the 3rd month, and thus it is apparent that such play was a common custom amongst the aristocratic classes. The Mujōhōindono gonikki (Diary of Lady Mujōhōin) notes for the 3rd day of the 3rd month of 1669 (Kanbun 9) that the princess [Hiroko, 5 years-old] was absorbed in playing with hina dolls.14 The Higashizono Motokazu kyō ki (Diary of Lord Higashizono Motokazu) entry for the 3rd day of the 3rd month of 1677 (Enhō 5) states that the First Snake Day rituals were held as usual and that the first doll play for princess Kame was held with happiness.15 This indicates that doll play was held for even young princesses. While originally the First Snake Day rituals had no particular connection to gender or age group, and possibly because playing with dolls was something young girls did, gradually it became the standard practice that the rituals of doll play on the 3rd day of the 3rd month was something created for girls. The Nonomiya Sadamoto kyō ki (Diary of Lord Nonomiya Sadamoto) entry for the 3rd day of the 3rd month of 1694 (Genroku 7), states that the young girls had doll play and 12 13

14

15

Arisaka 1943. “The Empress presented hina dishes and drinks.” 「中宮の御かたよりひいなのだいの 物、御たるまいる」 Oyunodono no ue no nikki (Diary of Imperial Court Ladies), 1625 (Kanbun 2), 3rd month, 4th day entry, reprinted in Hanawa and Ōta 1932, vol. 9. 「姫君ひいなあそびにて、ひしひし也、めでたし」 Imperial Princess Tsuneko, Mujōhōindono gonikki (Diary of Lady Mujōhōin), autograph version, Yōmei Bunko collection. The reference to doll play in this diary was introduced by Ōtaki 1997. 「上巳の節賀儀礼の如し、亀姫雛遊初而之を催す、祝着」 Higashizono Motokazu, Higashizono Motokazu kyō ki (Diary of Lord Higashizono Motokazu), autograph version, The Archives and Mausolea Department of the Imperial Household Agency, Japan.

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learned marriage etiquette in the peach blossom season.16 This indicates that the young girls played with dolls to learn about marriage. Around this time, the term Hina matsuri, literally Doll Festival had yet to be coined and the reference all use the term hina asobi, literally doll play. Around the early Edo period, doll play spread at the imperial court and throughout the aristocracy as a ritual held on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. In the Gomizunoo-in tōji nenjū gyōji listing of annual rituals held at the imperial court at the time, the listing for the 3rd day of the 3rd month mentions cockfights but does not mention doll play, and thus it is apparent that it was not a formal ceremony at the imperial court. The previously noted Mujōhōindono gonikki is a diary of Imperial Princess Tsuneko, who was a daughter of Emperor Gomizunoo and married Konoe Motohiro. In this diary, the entry for the 3rd day of the 3rd month of 1669 (Kanbun 9) and others state that the daughter Hiroko enjoyed doll play in the house, and there are also frequent notations of going to the imperial palace to see doll displays. The diary notations are important evidence of the real state of doll play in the early Edo period aristocratic world. In the diary, the listings of hina activities, whether termed hiina asobi (hina play) or hiina koto (hina affair), were all attached to the names of princesses. While there are numerous references to doll play in the Mujōhōindono gonikki, the diary of Tsuneko’s husband Motohiro, Motohirokō ki,17 contains primarily entries regarding court rituals, and there are no references to doll play. Motohiro’s diary referred to public events, while Tsuneko’s diary referred to occurrences in the family home, thus revealing a domestic separation of records.18 Doll play was thus a family event centered on daughters. Doll play cannot be said to have been completely enclosed in a family setting, because dolls and their accessories were given and received, and people came to see the dolls display, resulting in large numbers of visitors and thus social interchange with the outside world. The mother and brothers of Imperial Princess Tsuneko frequently visited doll spectacles, and there was much coming and going of functionaries and visitors. The majority of the visitors were people close to the party organizers.19 16

17 18 19

「此日少女有雛遊事(略)惟桃花季節学婚嫁之儀」 Nonomiya Sadamoto, Nonomiya Sadamoto kyō ki (Diary of Lord Nonomiya Sadamoto), autograph version, The Archieves and Mausolea Department of the Imperial Household Agency, Japan. Konoe Motohiro, Motohiro kō ki (Diary of Lord Konoe Motohiro), autograph version, Yōmei Bunko collection. Hagiwara 1998. The names of the people who came to see Hiroko’s hina doll play are as follows: “Ichijōin no miya” 「一でう院宮」 (Imperial Prince Ichijōin), that is, Imperial Priest Prince Shinkei, who was the younger brother of Imperial Princess Tsuneko and the chief priest of Ichijōin

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There were a great number of marriages between imperial prince families or aristocratic classes and the Shōgun family or upper military classes (daimyō). This meant that the doll play on the 3rd day of the 3rd month expanded to include the military class elite. Further, since functionaries and servants were permitted to watch the doll displays, the hina doll play became well known among lower ranking members of the military, townspeople and farmers. From his survey of haiku anthologies, Arisaka Yotarō has proposed that the custom of doll play on the 3rd day of the 3rd month spread into the urban classes from around the Enpō era (1673–1681).20 The haiku anthologies published prior to the Enpō era, i.e. during the Kei’an to Kanbun eras (1648–1673) are inconsistent, some mentioning Snake Day doll play and others not. Conversely, the numerous haiku anthologies published in the Enpō era, however, mention dolls in the First Snake Day section, and thus it is clear that by that period doll play was set as an event held on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. Further, Kurokawa Dōyū, renowned as both a doctor and historian, published his Hinami kiji in 1676 (Enpō 4), and in the rituals conducted on the 3rd day of the 3rd month, he lists doll play along with clamming and cockfights. The entry stated, “Today, the girl children of both prosperous and poor homes made dolls out of paper, and called them hina and played with them.”21 Thus it is clear that doll play was carried out across a wide class range in that period. Then in the middle Edo

20 21

Temple, from the entry for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1671 (Kanbun 11); “Shin Chūnagon dono” 「新中納言殿」 (New Lady Chūnagon), that is, Shinkōgimon’in, Tsuneko’s mother, entry for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1674 (Enpō 2); “Myōhōin no miya” 「妙法院宮」 (Imperial Prince Myōhōin), that is, Imperial Priest Prince Gyōjō, older brother of Tsuneko and the chief priest of Myōhōin Temple, entry for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1674 (Enpō 2); “Daishōji dono” 「大聖寺殿」 (lady Daishōji), that is, Imperial Princess Eikyō, younger sister of Tsuneko and the chief priest of Daishōji Temple, entries for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1675 (Enpō 3), and 2nd day of 3rd month of 1676 (Enpō 6); “Shōren’in no miya” 「青れ ん院宮」 (Imperial Prince Shōren’in), that is, Imperial Priest Prince Sonshō, younger brother of Tsuneko and the chief priest of Shōren’in Temple, entry for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1675 (Enpō 3). Tsuneko’s diary also states, “all who came and went through the palace viewed the hina dolls display. Servants and attendants came in, too. It was really busy.” 「出入のものどもみなみなひいな事けん物す。めしつかふおもてのものどもも まいりにぎにぎしさいふばかりなし。」 (from the entry for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1673 [Kanbun 13]) and “all who came and went through the palace viewed....” 「出入のものど もいづれもけん物し」 (from the entry for 3rd day of 3rd month of 1674 [Enpō 2]). These all indicate that regular visitors and attendants were also permitted to view the displays. See note 12. 「今日、良賎の児女、紙偶人を製し是を雛と称し之を玩ぶ」Kurokawa Dōyū, Hinami kiji (Diary), 1676 (Enpō 4), reprinted in Noma 1994.

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period, from the Shōtoku to Kyōhō era (1711–1735), the term changed from hina asobi to hina matsuri, literally from doll play to Doll Festival. In particular, the term of Doll Festivals came to appear often in haiku anthologies from the Hōreki period (1751–1764).22 The terminological change from “asobi” or play to “matsuri” or festival indicates that as this ritual gained in vivacity, it came to be widely recognized as a set annual ritual. During the last part of the 17th century when this custom spread widely through the classes, pictures showing scenes of doll play began to appear. An early example of this can be found in the illustrations of Kaibara Yoshifuru’s Nihon saijiki (Seasonal Records of Japan) published in 1688 (Jōkyō 5, Fig. 7.4). The Nihon saijiki refers to the winding stream banquet, cockfights and doll play as its rituals for the 3rd day of the 3rd month, and notes the origins of each practice. The winding stream banquet practice is listed with “past” (inishie), while cockfights and doll play are listed as “today” (konnichi).23 The illustration shows the cockfight occurring outdoors, while doll play is shown in an interior setting. The doll play scene shows dolls and their equipment placed in one corner of a room, with the female members of the family gathered in front of them. Thus, doll play, as seen in this illustration, took place in each family home and focused on the daughters of the family. The doll play of aristocrats

Figure 7.4 Kaibara Yoshifuru, Nihon saijiki (Seasonal Records of Japan), 1688 ( Jōkyō 5). 22

23

According to Arisaka Yotarō (Arisaka 1943, see note 12), the term “hina matsuri” was already found in the third volume of Seken musume katagi (Spirit of Women in the World), an ukiyozōshi novel published in 1716 (Kyōhō 1), and in the haiku anthology Utsubo zuihitsu (Utsubo Essay) published in 1759 (Hōreki 9), there are many instances of verses using the term “hina matsuri.” “In the past, the winding stream banquet would have been held today.... And today, cockfights are held.... Today, young girls play with small dolls, which is called hina doll play.” 「 いにしへは、今日曲水の宴をなす。(略)又今日鶏合する事あり。(略)今日めのわら はのたはぶれ事に、ひゐなあそびとて、ちいさき人形をもてあそぶ事あり。 (略)」 Kaibara Yoshifuru, Nihon saijiki (Seasonal Records of Japan), 1688 (Jōkyō 5), reprinted in Ōmori 1972.

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and clan lord families involved invitations to view the event to large groups of people, including retainers, attendants and their connections, and thus was by no means a closed family ritual. The Mujōhōindono gonikki notation confirms, however, that these rituals were held fundamentally by the families and focusing on daughters, with those related to the daughters or connected to them included as visitors. While the scale differed, doll play or a Doll Festival held by the com­ moner classes was not something held for a large gathering in a public space, but rather something that took place at each individual home, and was an interaction between relatives or close family friends.24 The change in name from doll play to Doll Festival took place in the 18th century, and there was an increase in the pictorial depiction of Doll Festivals, particularly in ukiyo-e where artists also depicted the scenes of Doll Festivals held by townspeople. The flourishing of the Doll Festival through the Edo period, in a broad range of classes, indicates that these families had the economic power to take on the festive seasonal rituals in the home. The next section takes up the ukiyo-e works that depict Doll Festival scenes, and examines the details of the development of the Doll Festival. 7.3

The Development of the Doll Festival as Seen in the Doll Festival Pictures

In the 18th century, images of the Doll Festivals were frequently taken up not only in illustrations in printed text books (hanpon), but also in printed picture books (ehon) made by ukiyo-e artists. In particular, Nishikawa Sukenobu’s Ehon  Yamato warabe (Printed Picture Book: Japanese Children, 1724 [Kyōhō 9]), Ehon Izumikawa (Printed Picture Book: Izumi River, 1742 [Kanpō 2]), Ehon Nishikawa azumawarabe (Printed Picture Book: Nishikawa’s Children in East Japan, 1746 [Enkyō 3]), Ehon masukagami (Printed Picture Book: Small Mirror, 1748 [Enkyō 5]), and other pictorial books illustrating everyday customs, included images of the Doll Festival. Of those, the Doll Festival picture in an early example, Ehon Yamato warabe (Fig. 7.5), shows Doll Festival dolls arranged in a residence’s reception areas, with young women and children gathered before the dolls, in what is thought to be an image of a wealthy townsperson’s 24

Bakin nikki (Bakin’s Diary) and Suzuki San’emon nikki (Diary of Suzuki San’emon), which chronicle the lives of ordinary people in the late Edo period, state that the dolls were displayed in houses around the 1st day of the 3rd month, and the family would gather to enjoy the festival meal on the 3rd day of the 3rd month. Also on that day, hina dolls would be presented to relatives and rounds of visits made.

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Figure 7.5 Nishikawa Sukenobu, Ehon Yamato waranbe (Printed Picture Book: Japanese Children), reproduction edition, original edition in 1731 (Kyōhō 16), private collection.

Figure 7.6 Watarai Naokata (text), Nishikawa Sukenobu (illustrations), Jokun eiri hina asobi no ki (Illustrated Instruction for Women: About the Hina Doll Play), 1749 (Kan’en 2), Kyoto Prefectural Archives, Kyoto.

home. Outside the veranda of the room, a girl is bouncing a mari traditional Japanese ball, while children can be seen playing with butterflies in the garden. Thus the scene is more than just an image of a Doll Festival, rather it is a view of all forms of children’s play in spring. The picture depicts both the inside and outside of the house, and while the interior image of the Doll Festival can also be found in the composition seen on the illustration for the Nihon saijiki (Fig. 7.4), the viewpoint is much closer, and the depiction clearly conveys the expressions of the girls enjoying the Doll Festival. Focusing on the dolls themselves reveals that in the Nihon saijiki illustration, standing doll figures (tachi bina) and seated doll figures (suwari bina) are placed on a carpet, while in the Ehon Yamato warabe, only seated dolls are depicted. The dolls are not placed on a flat plane, but rather have been arranged on a dais. The dolls shown in Sukenobu’s Ehon Nishikawa azumawarabe and Ehon masukagami are also seated dolls figures and they too are arranged on a dais. Further, while not an ehon picture book, Jokun eiri hina asobi no ki (Illustrated Instruction for Women: About Hina Doll Play, 1749 [Kan’ei 2]) includes Sukenobu’s illustration (Fig. 7.6), which shows standing dolls placed vertically to the side and beneath a dais adorned with seated dolls. Standing Doll Festival dolls are made from paper and thus are often also called kami hina,or literally paper hina dolls. It seems that the dolls used for

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everyday doll play by girls were primarily flat dolls made from paper. A memorial portrait of Maeda Kikuhime (Saikyōji Temple), depicting Kikuhime, the sixth daughter of Maeda Toshiie who died at the age of seven in 1584 (Tenshō 12), shows three paper dolls depicted next to the young Princess Kiku. The hitogata dolls that were used to banish ill fortune, one of the other predecessors of what became Doll Festival dolls, were simple forms made from paper. From these origins, the first dolls used in doll play on the 3rd day of the 3rd month were relatively simple forms made from paper. The 1676 (Enpō 4) publication, Hinami kiji, calls the dolls used in the doll play of the 3rd day of the 3rd month “kami gūjin” (paper human figures), and notes that they were dolls made of paper.25 Paper standing dolls were not self-supporting because of their lack of depth, and they were arranged in a room by leaning them up against a folding screen or other support. As the doll play of the 3rd day of the 3rd month spread, they began to make seated dolls who were stabler in form, so that in the 1688 (Jōkyō 5) publication of Nihon saijiki (Fig. 7.4), both standing dolls and seated dolls were displayed on the same carpet. While standing dolls and seated dolls were paired off in the Nihon saijiki, the Jokun eiri hina asobi no ki from the mid 18th century (Fig. 7.6), shows standing dolls displayed under and in the corner of the dais. Clearly by that point, seated dolls had become the primary doll form in the Doll Festival display. Unlike the abstract standing doll with its simplified version of the human figure, the seated dolls could be made to closely resemble the modeling and mass of a human form, and their garments could be made from real fabric, rather than from paper. A comparison of Nishikawa Sukenobu’s ehon picture books reveals that there were also changes in the seated dolls themselves, with the female dolls shown in Ehon Yamato warabe (Fig. 7.5) wearing a relatively simplified kosodelike garment. Approximately 12 years later, Jokun eiri hina asobi no ki (Fig. 7.6) shows a girl doll wearing layered garments in the jūni hitoe 12-layered robe traditional court garment style. Examination of extant Doll Festival dolls reveals that those seated dolls wearing kosode-like garments with their hands spread to the sides are known as Kan’ei bina (Doll Festival dolls of the Kan’ei era), signaling an old type of seated dolls that still retain some influence from the standing doll shape. The seated dolls wrapped in the splendid 12-layered robe style of thick garments came to be known as the Kyōhō bina (Doll Festival dolls of the Kyōhō era). This naming came from the fact that it is thought that this doll type first became popular during the Kyōhō era.26 Sukenobu’s ehon picture books can be seen as reflecting the actual trends in Doll Festival dolls. Further, 25 26

See note 21. Kitamura 1967 and Kirihata 1998.

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examination of the daises on which they were displayed reveals that in the Ehon Yamato warabe, the dais has only one layer, while in the Jokun eiri hina asobi no ki shows two layers that are each taller. As Doll Festival dolls changed from simple items to elaborate productions, this illustration shows how the display dais also changed to suit the new style of dolls. In the latter part of the 18th century, Doll Festival images began to frequently appear not only in ehon picture books but also in single print woodblocks as they became established as a standard ukiyo-e pictorial theme. Torii Kiyonaga, active in the Tenmei–Kansei eras (1780–1801), depicted the Doll Festival in the series Twelve Months of Playful Children (Gidō jūnikō, Fig.  7.7) and the series Precious Children’s Games of the Five Festivals (Kodakara gosechi asobi, Fig. 7.8). The girl playing mari Japanese ball in Gidō jūnikō is reminiscent of the imagery in the Doll Festival picture in Sukenobu’s Ehon Yamato warabe. The figures of the three people in front of the doll display also can be confirmed as the same postures as those seen in the Ehon Yamato warabe. Thus, the Doll Festival scene in the Twelve Months of Playful Children copies the figural placement and postures from Sukenobu’s works, but Kiyonaga made the overall work fit his own time period by changing the hairstyles and garments to contemporary styles. Other changes were also made, and those included the doll display itself. The Ehon Yamato warabe shows a single-tier doll dais with the old type of seated dolls wearing kosode-type kimono. Kiyonaga’s work, on the other hand, has increased the dais from one tier to three tiers. The angle of the print means that

Figure 7.7 Torii Kiyonaga, Doll Festival from the series, Twelve Months of Playful Children (Gidō jūnikō hinamatsuri), ca. Tenmei era (1781–1789), Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, photograph © 02/20/2014 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

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Figure 7.8 Torii Kiyonaga, Doll Festival from the series, Precious Children’s Games of the Five Festivals (Kodakara gosechi asobi hinamatsuri), ca. Kansei era (1789–1801), Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo.

the figures of the male and female dolls (obina and mebina) on the top tier are not visible, but looking from the upper left, the figure of the doll on the second tier reveals the chanting figure of a doll from the traditional five-part orchestra (gonin bayashi, composed of taiko [great drum], ōtsutsumi [big drum], kotsutsumi [small drum], flute and chanter). The five-part orchestra is the doll version of the classic Noh theatre orchestra, and from around the Tenmei period when Kiyonaga was active, it became the fashion to include a set of these orchestra dolls on the dais to accompany the central male and female dolls.27 Gyokuzan, renowned as the famous maker of these five-part orchestra dolls, and Shūgetsu, who established Kokin bina (Doll Festival dolls of the ancient-new style) whose form and expressions were all the closer to those of real people, and whose garments were close to the traditional 12-layered robe, pioneered the two main 27

“The set of dolls called hayashi kata (orchestra) has recently come into fashion. They are child-like figures imitating a theater orchestra. Flute, kotsutsumi (small drum), ōtsutsumi (big drum), taiko (great drum) and chanter: if even one of these figures is absent, people seem to think there is something important missing.” 「近比はやしかたといへるものい できて、きりかぶろのぜんじをもて、芝居の下座にやうつしけん、笛小つづみおほ つづみ、太こ地謡までひとつをかきては事たらぬ心地ぞする」 Ōta Nanpo, Yomo no aka, last volume, 1781 (Tenmei 1)?, reprinted in Hamada et al. 1985.

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doll styles that began around the late 18th century.28 The changes made by Kiyonaga in his works, like those of hairstyles and garments, were striking in that Doll Festival dolls precisely captured contemporary trend and fashions. The Doll Festival scene in Kiyonaga’s Precious Children’s Games of the Five Festivals shows a three-tier stand in front of the children, with a five-part orchestra and male and female dolls wearing beautiful garments. This would have been the highly sought-after doll display of its day. With the beginning of the 19th century, there was ever increasing vivacity in the doll displays, and particularly in Edo it became the fashion to have tall daises for the dolls.29 Utagawa Kunisada (Toyokuni III) created a print around the Tenpō era (1830–1844), the Third Month in the series Fashionable Ancient and Modern Twelve Months (Fūryū kokin jūnikagetsu, Fig. 7.9), which shows a four-tier dais. In this print, male and female dolls cannot be seen, rather what is visible is the five-part orchestra dolls on the 2nd tier. At the end of the Edo period, a further set of three imperial court ladies (san’nin kanjo) was added to the display and dolls were displayed on a seven-tier dais. Such changes reveal that each new generation sought its own new things, new trends. The Doll Festival images depicted in ukiyo-e prints fully reflect the trends in doll types, and also reflect the fact that Doll Festival dolls were a trend item. A review of the ukiyo-e works mentioned above reveals that while children would happily gaze at Doll Festival dolls, they did not actually pick up the dolls and play with them. In the 1676 (Enpō 4) Hinami kiji,30 doll play was said to be so-named because girls had toys to play with known as hina dolls. As the ages passed, and Doll Festival dolls became more elaborate and ornate, and as the display dais became all the taller, the taller the dais, the higher out of reach of children’s hands became the dolls. This marked the change from dolls that were picked up and played with to ones that were enjoyed as decorations and possessions. Kunisada’s print (Fig. 7.9) with its lavish image of a four-tier display shows the young child on the right edge holding a paper standing figure 28

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“Shūgetsu’s dolls and Gyokuzan’s ones are the most expensive in the hina doll market.” 「雛市に月と山とハ直が高し」 Haifū yanagidaru, vol. 80, 1824 (Bunsei 7), reprinted in Okada 1976–84, vol. 6; “Shūgetsu and Gyokuzan are the master craftsmen in Jikkendana in Edo.” 「江戸十軒店の秋月、玉山等を雛の名工とす」 Kitagawa Morisada, Morisada Mankō (Morisada’s Essays), begun in 1837 (Tenpō 8), reprinted in Asakura et al. 1992. “At the doll play in Kyoto, a two-tier dais is used and a red carpet is put on it..., in Edo, a dais has seven or eight tiers and meoto bina [dolls of a married couple, that is obina and mebina] are put on its top tier....” 「京都の雛遊は、段二段ばかりに赤毛 氈を掛け、(略)江戸は、壇を七八楷とし、上段に夫婦雛を置く。(略)」 Kitagawa Morisada, Morisada Mankō (Morisada’s Essays), 1837 (Tenpō 8), see note 28. See note 21.

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Figure 7.9 Utagawa Kunisada, Third Month from the series, Fashionable Ancient and Modern Twelve Months (Fūryū kokin jūnikagetsu no uchi Yayoi), ca. Tenpō era (1830–1844), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo.

doll, the same as in antiquity, rather than one of the luxurious seated models. While the periods change, girls still find paper dolls just right for playtime. The trends towards the lavish adornment of Doll Festival dolls and the heightening of their display dais, can be said to be a change from girl’s play to the glory of consumption that included everyone from adults to children. The Doll Festival included the decorations and prayers with dolls displayed on the 3rd day of the 3rd month, and it also gradually became the pleasure of owning the Doll Festival dolls and the pleasure of acquisition. The purchasing of Doll Festival dolls became a seasonal poem topic, and was also well ­displayed in paintings. While in the case of winding stream banquets and cockfights, the event itself was the enjoyment, and there are no pictures of pur­ chasing wine cups or cocks. However, doll markets that sold Doll Festival dolls had become so prosperous by the late Edo period that they became famous sites in their own right, and a detailed image of the bustling scene at one famous doll market, the Jikkendana, or the ten shops in Nihonbashi, can be seen in Kidai shōran (Excellent View of Our Prosperous Age, 1805 [Bunka 2]) in the Museum of Asian Art, Berlin as well as in an illustration in Edo meisho zue (Pictures of Famous Place in Edo, 1834 [Tenpō 5]). This heightening of consumer passion was mirrored in the handling of the Doll Festival in ukiyo-e works. Utagawa Kunisada’s Jikkendana in the series One Hundred Beautiful Women of Edo Famous Places (Edo meisho hyakunin bijo), for example, shows beautiful women next to Doll Festival dolls (Fig. 7.10). This print is clearly not the depiction of a seasonal ritual, but rather, as indicated

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Figure 7.10 Utagawa Kunisada, Jikkendana from the series One Hundred Beautiful Women of Edo Famous Places (Edo meisho hyakunin bijo Jikkendana), 1858 (Ansei 5), Hokkaido Museum of Modern Art, Sapporo.

by the series title, part of a series of meishoe, or pictures of famous places. A beautiful woman points at the elaborately elegant Doll Festival dolls on display, with the Jikkendana doll market of Nihonbashi depicted above the woman. Here the theme is a woman who has made her way to the doll market area, and there enjoys shopping for new beautiful Doll Festival dolls. Shikitei Sanba, renowned for his witty and comical books in the late Edo period, wrote a book entitled Shijūhachi Kuse (Forty-eight Habits, 1811 [Bunka 8]). The book tells of the women in a house decorated with small Doll Festival dolls who exclaim that they want better and newer dolls when they go to the doll shop.31 This conversation indicates that shopping for and possessing beautiful new dolls is a great form of pleasure to women of that era. The women go on to comment that they also need to acquire the fittings for the Doll Festival display, thus indicating the beautification and prized stature of the small doll fittings and furnishings that are displayed on the dais with the dolls themselves. The sekku, or seasonal festival day, was a day for purifying oneself and making offerings to the gods, and the ritual of water’s 31

Shikitei Sanba, Shijūhachi kuse (Forty-eight Habits), 1st edition, chapter of Hito no hi wo kazouru hito no kuse (Habit of finding others’ faults), 1811 (Bunka 8), reprinted in Honda 1982.

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edge purification on the First Snake Day also involves making offerings to the gods. In the Doll Festival the custom was to make offerings to the dolls themselves. As seen in the illustration from the Nihon Saijiki (1688 [Jōkyō 5], Fig. 7.4), from early examples of pictures of the Doll Festival, trays and tables were shown set up in front of the dolls. Sukenobu’s Ehon Yamato warabe (Fig. 7.5) also show trays and other ritual food vessels. Kunisada’s Third Month in the series Fashionable Ancient and Modern Twelve Months (Fig. 7.9) shows not only offerings placed on trays, lozenge-shaped stands and other offering utensils, it also shows the doll dais decorated with games such as shōgi Japanese chess, go and sugoroku backgammon. Kitagawa Morisada’s Morisada Mankō (Morisada’s Essays), begun in 1837 (Tenpō 8) lists the types of Doll Festival equipment as, koto zither, lute, shōgi Japanese chess, go, sugoroku, zushi dana (small cabinet with hinged doors), kuro dana (black-colored shelf for toilet set), book shelf, with other items included, such as nagamochi (large oblong chest) and mirror stand, with notations that all were decorated in either makie or nashiji pear ground lacquer.32 Expensive doll furniture decorated with makie lacquer and other lavish forms had already become objects of regulation by the 17th ­century,33 but luxurious doll furnishings spread especially to the general populace around the middle of the 18th century, when books and essays in the Hōreki and Meiwa eras (1751–72) commented on the lavishness of modern doll equipment decorated with gold and silver.34 32

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“Fittings and furniture for dolls include koto zither, lute, samisen, three bords of shōgi Japanese chess, go and sugoroku, zushi dana [small cabinet with hinged doors], kuro dana [black-colored shelf for toilet set], bookshelf, reading desk, chest, nagamochi [large oblong chest], portable chest, dressing table, comb box and so on. All are usually in black lacquer with makie decoration of peony-karakusa (vining plants) motif. In the cases of specially made sets, gold paint would be used to apply family crest with vining plants, or decorated with nashiji pear ground lacquer.” 「棚には、琴琵琶三絃将棊双六の三盤 御厨子だな黒棚書棚見台箪笥長持挟箱鏡台櫛筥等の類、皆必ず黒漆ぬりに牡 丹唐草の蒔絵あるを普通とし、或は別に精製して定紋に唐草を金描し、或は梨子 地蒔絵の善美を尽すあり」 Kitagawa Morisada, Morisada Mankō (Morisada’s Essays), begun in 1837 (Tenpō 8), see note 28. “[Keian 2, 2nd month,] as in the past, the doll play furnishings should be decorated with neither makie lacquer nor gold or silver leaf.” 「(慶安2年2月)前々の如く雛遊の調度 に、蒔絵あるは金銀の箔もて造るべからず」 Daiyūin dono go jikki (Actual Record about His Majesty Daiyūin), vol. 73, reprinted in Kuroita 1930. “In recent years, doll furnishings, etc., were particularly beautiful with gold and silver.” 「近 年は雛配膳の調度など、殊の外美を尽し、金銀をちりばめなどすることとはなりぬ」 Nabari Kokyō, Miyako Rōshi (Lao-zi of the Capital), 1752 (Hōreki 2); “In the past, doll trays were made of white wood with painting in red, green and blue, and bowls were made

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As has been frequently indicated, doll furnishings that include the three game boards for sugoroku, shōgi and go, and the three types of shelving – zushi dana, kuro dana and sho dana (book shelves) – are all furnishing types found in the lavish bridal furnishing sets provided to brides in the clan lord and a­ ristocratic families. The development of the connection between bridal furnishings and doll furnishings derives from the belief the Doll Festival was thought of as a practice ritual for young girls anticipating marriage,35 as noted in the entry for the 3rd day of the 3rd month of 1694 (Genroku 7) in the previously cited Nonomiya Sadamoto kyō ki.36 Upon marriages in daimyō or aristocratic families, brides moved to their new homes with a full set of bridal furnishings and a set of doll furnishings, while even in the common classes, primarily in wealthy families, the trend towards doll furnishings being purchased with beautiful makie decorations, rather than just simple trays and so forth, can be seen in the doll furnishings handed down in old merchant families and in those reproduced in ukiyo-e works. In the same manner as Doll Festival dolls, there was a quickening of consumer interest in new beautiful models of doll furnishings. The desire for these items can be seen in Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s Third Month from the series Lovely Play of the Five Festivals (Miyabi asobi gosekku, Fig.  7.11), in which the Doll Festival was depicted. It was no longer just a case of depiction of the dolls, works also began to appear which show the young girls arranging food on trays decorated with beautiful makie designs. Images in the Third Month from the series Fashionable

35

36

from clam shells...in recent years, people eagerly prepare honzen (main trays), ninozen (second trays), chōashi [trays with butterfly-shaped legs], kakeban [splendid ceremonial trays], sanpō [triangular trays] decorated with taka-makie [high-relief lacquer decoration], copper kettles, pans and pots made of gold, chests and large oblong chests with beautifully gilded metal knobs and hinges, silver tea utensils, and so on. Their luxury is beyond words and description. It is all based on vanity.” 「むかしより雛の膳は白木に丹 緑青を以絵をかき、椀は蛤貝也(略)然るに近年、本膳、二ノ勝、蝶足、かけばん、 高蒔絵の三方、竈も銅のどふこ、鍋釜も金にて本手に拵へ、箪笥、長持は金めつ き気彫の八そうかなもの、又は銀の茶の湯道具、其外詞にも筆にも及ぬ 事とも、皆是奢りより始る」, Nakata Chikara, Zakkōkukōki, 1769 (Meiwa 6), reprinted in Miyamura 1977. The belief that the Doll Festival was preparation for marriage can be seen in Gyokusuitei Yasumaro (ed.), Taihō teikin ōrai, 1844 (Tenpō 15): “The sekku of the 3rd month is known as the First Snake Day.... Girls are to rule the home and manage household affairs. Thus, they should learn all things from childhood onwards in doll play and be polite.” 「三月節句は 上巳という。(中略)抑女子は内を治め、家事を司るものなれば、幼きよりよろずの 事を、雛あそびにて教え、礼を尽くして聊かも乱るべからず。」 These beliefs were well distributed by the late Edo period. See note 16.

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Figure 7.11 Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Third Month from the series Lovely Play of the Five Festivals (Miyabi asobi gosekku no uchi Yayoi), ca. 1839 (Tenpō 10), Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo.

Ancient and Modern Twelve Months (Fig. 7.9) show girls enjoying food on trays decorated with the same makie designs as those found on their doll furnishings, and thus it can be seen that doll furnishings were occasionally taken up and used. The doll  ­furnishings were not only desired for their decorative effects, they also represented the longing for a rich lifestyle in which such items could be owned as furnishings for actual use. Morishita Misako noted that as the Doll Festival became distanced from girls actually playing with dolls, it was linked anew to girls through the conduit of bridal preparations, and the growing quality and quantity of doll furnishings indicates a family’s desire for good marriages of its daughters.37 Doll Festival customs spread from the imperial court, and the emperor and empress dolls (i.e., the male and female dolls) were dressed in garments copied after the traditional clothing worn at the court in the Heian period. As seen in the poetic phrase, “all the shops in the Jikken doll market look like aristocratic palaces,”38 which compares the famous doll market Jikkendana to palaces of the noble class, Doll Festival dolls still maintained a close connection with imperial court 37 38

Morishita 1996. 「十軒が十けんながら公家の宿」 Haifū yanagidaru 28, 1799 (Kansei 11), reprinted in Okada 1976–84, vol. 3.

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culture even after spreading into the commoner classes. The display of an emperor doll and an empress doll high on a tall doll display dais represented a longing for the elegant culture of the Heian period,39 while the doll furnishings that were easily touched represented forms of luxury goods furnishings that were available in the real world. This combination of longing for the distant Heian court world and the actual, physical desires further heightened the fervor about lavish doll displays. These rituals, carried out in the house by the family members, used the Doll Festival dolls and furnishings that were the property of the family. The development of these family rituals was connected to the trend toward using family possession to adorn rituals. The trend continued and intensified, even among ordinary people but primarily the wealthier classes, reflecting the way the family unit became an important individual unit for consumption activities. After the independence of the small-scale farm in the Edo period, small nuclear families made up solely of a married couple and their children began to appear.40 The establishment of the small household meant that children became the “child jewels” that would ensure the continuation of “family.” With this concept came the idea of carefully protecting children. The adorable forms of children came to figure as subject matter in paintings, while rituals related to the growth and health of children also prospered.41 However, the particular growth of the Doll Festival from the 18th century onwards was not only because the small families appeared at this time and thus children came to be all the more important. There were also economic reasons. The development of commercial activities and manufacturing brought the growth of the domestic economy and improved living standards.42 This meant that a married couple and their children were not only a unit of production. They became also a unit of consumption, and this was deeply connected to the rise in consumption desires about family affairs. This section presented Doll Festival images depicted in ukiyo-e to see how this ritual developed apace with active consumption activities. Turning away from the realm of ukiyo-e, it is noteworthy that there was another kind of picture called the doll painting (hina zu) which depicts Doll Festival dolls 39

40 41 42

During the Edo period the longing for Heian court culture can be seen in various genres. The narratives of the Heian imperial court came to be well distributed throughout society and were particularly recommended as texts for improving girls’ etiquette and graceful behavior. This fact also influenced the formation of Doll Festival dolls. Hayami 1997. Kuroda 1993, Kuroda 1994. Hayami et al. 1998.

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themselves. The following section takes up the Doll Picture and considers the relationship between its characteristics and the development of the Doll Festival. 7.4

The Development of the Doll Festival as Seen in Doll Paintings

Examples of doll paintings with Doll Festival dolls as their principal subject remain from the early Edo period onwards, and there is a particularly marked increase in the numbers of these works from the latter half of the 18th c­ entury onwards. Numerous painters, irrespective of school, including Kanō, Tosa, Rimpa, Maruyama-Shijō, Kishi and Mori, created doll paintings. This subject matter, indeed, became a standard repertoire item for many. Amidst the development of the Doll Festival, gradually homes were decorated not only with Doll Festival dolls themselves, but also paintings depicting Doll Festival dolls. This is thought to be one of the reasons that so many of these pictures were painted. The following texts show how doll paintings were displayed at that time. Playing with dolls is an ancient custom that is mentioned also in the Tale of Genji.... We should hold the Doll Festival because dolls bear the burden of all misfortunes. This festival is, however, not good for girls over 10 years old. Thus, only girls under 10 years old should hold it. When grown-up girls would like to celebrate this festival, they should display scroll paintings which depict dolls, based on today’s custom. (Shunchōsai Nobushige [illust.], Umegae hyakunin isshu nioi dori, 1797 [Kansei 9])43 Today, Sōhaku [son of Bakin] regained only the doll painting among the scroll paintings which are deposited in the storehouse of the landlord Sugiura family, and displayed it in the alcove. Omichi [wife of Sōhaku] is too busy displaying Doll Festival dolls. So, we will conduct the ritual with the above-mentioned scroll. (Kyokutei Bakin, Bakin Nikki [Bakin’s Diary], entry for the 1st day of the 3rd month of 1834 [Tenpō 5])44 43

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「雛をもて遊ぶ事は、源氏物がたりにも見え侍れば、いにしへより有事なり。(略)萬 の凶事を是におほすることなりとあれば、誠にすべき事也。しるし十にあまりてはい み侍る物とあれば、十歳より内にてする事成べし。成長しても為んと思はば、此こ ろのもやうに習ふて、掛物等に画がきてまつるべし。」 Shunchōsai Nobushige (illust.), Umegae hyakunin isshu nioi dori, 1797 (Kansei 9). 「今日、地主杉浦土蔵へ預ケ置候かけ物の内、ひなかけ物のミとりよせ、宗伯、 如例、床へかけおく。此節惣忽ニ付、おミち、ひなとり出し不申故、右かけ物ニて、

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Today we put Doll Festival dolls away as usual and displayed a picture of paper dolls in place of them. (Kyokutei Bakin, Bakin Nikki [Bakin’s Diary], entry for the 4th day of the 3rd month of 1849 [Ka’ei 2])45 References to girls growing up and a family hesitating about the display of dolls, and also to situations in which there was not enough time to display dolls, or even the display of paintings after dolls themselves have been put away, all indicate that the paintings of festival dolls are not simply scenes of seasonal activities, but actually can be used in place of festival doll displays. Examples of paintings of dolls can be seen in the works of Sakai Hōitsu, such as his Standing Dolls (Fig.  7.12), and Yano Yachō’s Standing Dolls (Fig.  7.13). These and many works like them show the dolls arranged to face directly out at the viewer, and thus suggest that such works could have been hung as Doll

Figure 7.12 Sakai Hōitsu, Standing Dolls, late 18th – early 19th century, Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, Tokyo.

45

祝儀相済せ候つもり。」 Kyokutei Bakin, Bakin Nikki (Bakin’s Diary), 1834 (Tenpō 5), the 3rd month, the 1st day entry, reprinted in Teruoka et al. 1973. 「今日、雛、如例、納畢、右跡に紙雛之図掛る。」 Kyokutei Bakin, Bakin Nikki (Bakin’s Diary), 1849 (Ka’ei 2), the 3rd month, the 4th day entry, reprinted in Teruoka et al. 1973.

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Festival decorations themselves. However, it is interesting to note that the two examples chosen here both present standing dolls, not seated dolls that had become more common for festival displays. It can be noted that a major characteristic of doll paintings was the preference for standing dolls over seated dolls as subject matter. The Umegae hyakunin isshu nioi dori quoted above has an illustration of a scene where people are displaying a painting of standing dolls, while the 4th day of the 3rd month of 1849 (Ka’ei 2) entry in the Bakin nikki mentions “the picture of paper dolls,” which can be understood as a ­picture of standing dolls. With the development of seated dolls, standing dolls were demoted to a supplementary role and handled roughly, as can be seen in a poem that speaks of “putting a stake through a paper doll and hanging rags beside it.”46 The ­ukiyo-e works discussed in the previous section depict Doll Festivals that reflect the trend in which splendidly dressed seated dolls have become the central figures in the decoration. However, while seated dolls do appear in the doll

Figure 7.13 Yano Yachō, Standing Dolls, early 19th century, Kyoto Prefectural Archives, Kyoto. 46

「紙ひなへ棒を通してぼろを下げ」 Haifū yanagidaru, vol. 19, 1784 (Tenmei 4), reprinted in Okada 1976–84, vol. 2.

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paintings on the subject of Doll Festival dolls, there remain a much larger number of paintings of standing dolls than those of seated dolls. One of the reasons for depicting standing dolls is that in many instances the tall vertical figures of standing dolls suited the vertical format predominant amongst hanging scrolls. In terms of a reason other than the physical constraints of the painting composition, it is also possible that the more original form of Doll Festival dolls was preferred as subject matter. As noted above, the standing doll form is an older festival doll form than the seated form. Actual standing dolls can be divided into two types, those with a relatively realistic depicted, vertically extended face and those with a round face and simplified mouth and nose expression. In paintings, there are more standing dolls depicted with the so-called Jirōzaemon bina type face with rounded face, ­simplified mouth and nose areas, as seen in the examples by Hōitsu and Yachō. The Kyoto dollmaker, Hishiya (Hinaya) Jirōzaemon made this type of doll. There are in fact standing doll and seated doll versions of the Jirōzaemon bina type, and they were popular in Edo as well as Kyoto around the Hōreki and Meiwa eras (1751–1772). However, around the Kansei era (1789–1801), they were overtaken in popularity by the Kokin bina (ancient-modern hina doll) and fell out of fashion.47 Nevertheless, they did not completely disappear, lasting until the end of the Edo period, particularly at the imperial court and amongst the aristocracy.48 The characteristics of the Jirōzaemon bina doll are, as quoted in the comic poem, “as if a nose and mouth have been applied to a smooth dumpling.”49 And, given that Santō Kyōden’s Kottōshū (Collection of Antiques, Fig. 7.14) introduced these characteristics as an old form of Doll Festival doll known as Muromachi bina, then we can see that the Jirōzaemon bina doll facial type was a continuation of an old traditional form. The plump, rounded face, with eyes and mouth shown by horizontal lines resembles the “slit eyes and hook nose” constructs of figures seen in Heian period handscrolls, and thus was an elegant form to the Japanese people. The reason that most doll paintings show the round-faced standing doll type could also be the fact that amongst dolls, the standing type was the old-fashioned form. As mentioned above, from the late 18th century onward, Kokin bina came into fashion. At a 47

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In the Kansei era comic poems appeared which joke about Jirōzaemon bina’s fall in favor. One of them says that “Display Jirōzaemon dolls wherever you like” 「爰にでも御出なさ いと次郎左えもん」 Haifū yanagidaru, vol. 27, 1798 (Kansei 10). The diary of imperial princess Kazunomiya’s mother Kangyōin, “Kangyōin tedome” (reprinted in Nihon Shiseki Kyōkai 1976) records in the entry for 3rd month of 1858 (Ansei 5), that the Doll Festival dolls owned by Kazunomiya were presented to various people, and this listing includes some pairs marked as Jirōzaemon hina dolls. Yanai bako, vol. 1, 1783 (Tenmei 3), reprinted in Chiba 1996.

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Figure 7.14 Santō Kyōden, Kottōshū (Collection of Antiques), 1813 (Bunka 10).

glance, Kokin bina with their realistic figure construction seems opposite to the simple standing dolls depicted in doll paintings. The former’s garments, ­however, are not only elaborate but are also based on ancient imperial court customs. The doll paintings depicting standing dolls as well as the Kokin bina, though in different ways, were intended to show ancient courtly beauty aesthetics. From the second half of the 18th century to the 19th century, in tune with the political tenor of the day, Japan experienced a strengthening cultural revivalist trend and a taste for the antique, and both Doll Festival dolls and doll paintings were not divorced from these trends. Further, in terms of the rituals themselves, there was a heightened interest in all things related to the Heian court, and this led to a period in which winding stream banquet paintings, a subject that had died off since the Heian period, made a resurgence. The preference for standing dolls as painting subject matter was not a case of desiring a return to the simple, but rather reveals the discernment of product value in something that gives a sense of the antique or old. The standing dolls with round faces whose facial expressions resemble the traditional facial expressions found in yamatoe paintings, reveal a dignity that differs from that in ukiyo-e paintings, and thus is a painting subject that responded to the period’s heightened taste for revivalism and the antique.

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Particularly the paintings of standing dolls by known artists may have also fulfilled people’s desire for purchasing beautiful dolls. While the paintings took as their subject the simple form of the standing doll, each painter added their own special depictive differences to create a new image. For example, in his painting (Figs. 7.12 and 7.15), Sakai Hōitsu depicts the pine motifs often found in works by other artists but in his own way, using white as an underlayer for the pine motifs and setting up a vivid contrast of the three colors of rich gold paint, green pine trees and red of the cloud motifs. On the sleeve of the emperor doll and the collar of the empress doll, plain gold was layered underneath the garment with the pine motifs. While only a tiny surface amount of gold is shown, its bright, vivid quality heightens the effect of the colors. Within the overall balance of the body, the heads are relatively large, while the streamers on the emperor’s crown and the hair on the empress hang on the inside edges of the face. This means that the bits of cheek that extend outward emphasize the roundness, giving the impression of an even rounder face. Through the layering of detailed characteristics of color usage, shape and placement, Hōitsu created a richly elegant form of standing doll painting.

Figure 7.15

Detail of Fig. 7.12.

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There are some instances of doll paintings adorned with peach blossoms. For example, Yachō, trained in the Shijō school, depicted peach blossoms in his work in the tsuketate shading, outline free method and thus clearly revealed his stylistic affiliations (Fig. 7.13). The paintings of standing dolls by Hōitsu also include Hōitsu’s particularly talented calligraphy, and clearly the painter was creating works that had easily shows his own artistic talents. The many standing doll paintings created from the latter half of the 18th ­century onwards also witnessed the period when so-called keshi bina, or literally mustard seed dolls that were less than three inches in height, were in ­fashion. These keshi bina became popular around the time that large, e­ laborately ­elegant dolls were regulated by the doll market rules adopted in 1790 (Kansei 2).50 Huge amounts of effort were required to produce these tiny dolls, and the keshi bina created by one of the major brands, the Nanasawaya, were sought after as a luxury form of dolls. Countering the sumptuary laws of the day as much as possible and creating lavish high-class dolls characterized this period in which consumption desires had strengthened for these new beautiful dolls. Similarly, paintings of standing dolls were popular as accessories for the Doll Festival, and they can also be seen as an effective way for the artists to depict their subject matter in the expressive medium of painting, and become widely dispersed. 7.5 Conclusion Through this discussion on the Doll Festival paintings and doll paintings, it is clear that because the Doll Festival was a family-held ritual, the festival developed when a passion for consumption grew regarding decorations that were family assets. The changes in the rituals can be seen in the changes of the vantage points of the paintings depicting those rituals. From the 18th century on, ukiyo-e began to take up the subject of rituals celebrating children in the family, such as the Doll Festival. At that time, ukiyo-e, which had largely focused on the pleasure districts of the period or the customs of the theatre districts, was starting to create a large number of works on town customs.51 Then, there 50

51

The Tachibanaya, a famous maker of mustard seed-dolls, became a member of the first group of Hina Nakama (guild of Doll Festival doll makers) in 1795 (Kansei 7). In addition, town edicts forbidding lavish keshi zaiku (mustard seed furniture) were issued in 1803 (Jōkyō 3). These suggest that keshi bina and their furniture came into fashion around 1790 (Kansei 2) when the regulation against the hina doll market was strengthened (Koresawa 2005). Nishikawa Sukenobu was active in the first half of the 18th century, and he painted the every day genre scenes of the figures around him, including children. Around the time of

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was an increase in works that turned their gaze to the close mother and child relationships, household rituals, children at play and other aspects of the family or the children close to it. With the broadening of subject matter in ukiyo-e works, it became a case not only focusing on special places such as the pleasure quarters of prostitutes. The artists began to turn their attention closer to home and the family, looking at the family’s interests and revealing their consumerist desires. Thus pictures of the Doll Festival were an overlapping of the development of the festival itself and the development of the ukiyo-e gaze, and these works conveyed the maturation of consumption by the family or home as a unit. While this chapter has focused on the Doll Festival, from the beginning of the Edo period, another child-centered festival, the tango no sekku 5th day of the 5th month rituals began to flourish as a family ritual celebrating the growth of boys. Especially from the 18th century onwards, tango no sekku home decorations also grew more elaborate and luxurious. In this manner, during the Edo period, particularly from the 18th century onwards, various rituals were carried out within the home. Corresponding to the increase of such family rituals, the number of pictures for home decoration also increased. In addition to doll paintings, various kinds of decorative paintings such as pictures of new year decorations (shōgatsu kazari zu), helmets (kabuto zu), and herb-wreath (kusudama zu) were often made at that time. The decorations used in rituals were originally meant to banish calamity and call forth prosperity. Ill fortune could be transferred to real dolls and could be removed by real fragrant plants. However, as family rituals and the desire for consumption conflated, the meaning of the decorations as merchandise strengthened. Decoration became the main goal in these events. This in turn led to the preference for painted decorations. Thus the development of rituals conducted within the family home was deeply connected to the establishment of new painting themes concerning rituals. Suzuki Harunobu, active in the late half of the 18th century, the percentage of pleasure quarter pictures dropped, and there was an increase in the depiction of scenes from everyday lives and customs of the ordinary townspeople. See Asano 2007 and Fujisawa 2007.

Chapter 8

Images of Children in Modern Art in Taiwan: Public Messages Concealed in Private Depictions* Li Su-chu 8.1 Introduction Modern art in Taiwan began during the Japanese colonial period (1895–1945), specifically at the official Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition (Taiwan Bijutsu Tenrankai, or the Taiten) held in 1927. There it was labeled “new art.” As indicated by the inclusion of only two sections in those exhibitions, Eastern-style painting and Western-style painting, painting was the primary form of modern art in Taiwan. We should also note that the many private art associations that had existed prior to the Taiten did not develop exhibitions with public calls for entries. The holding of private, unofficial exhibitions positioned in opposition to the official Taiten only took place following Taiwanese artists’ formation of the Taiyang Art Association (Taiyō Bijutsu Kyōkai), which did not occur until 1934. At first, moreover, the Taiyang exhibitions (Taiyōten) showed only Western-style paintings; its Eastern-style painting section was not formed until 1940. Given, then, that the world of modern art in Taiwan was largely controlled by the Taiten, I focus in this chapter on works shown at that exhibition. Readers should also note that, since many of these works no longer exist, we are forced to rely on black and white images that appeared in exhibition catalogs, newspapers and magazines published during this period. Research thus far has continued to state that modern art produced in Taiwan, especially landscape and still-life paintings, has no visible political or topical character. Many of the works depicting children discussed in this chapter have been interpreted in the same way; but is this, in fact, true? There are relatively few works of modern art from Taiwan that are either portraits of children or in which children are the theme. There are, however, some that do depict several children. Among the most famous is Singing Children (Utau kodomotachi, now entitled Chorus, 1943) by Li Shih-chiao, which depicts a chorus of children wearing military caps and uniforms. Other examples include Li’s Children in the Garden (Niwasaki no kodomotachi, 1941) and Hsueh * Translation from Japanese into English: Ruth S. McCreery.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_009

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Wan-dong’s Play (Yūgi, 1938). In that painting, as the title suggests, we see children playing, a rare theme in modern art from Taiwan. Play, despite being an important work that was awarded the Governor General’s Prize (Sōtoku Shō), the Grand Prix in the Governor General’s Art Exhibition (Taiwan Sōtokufu Bijutsuten, known as the Futen), has not been carefully studied as a work of art. This chapter is an attempt to examine these works that depict an extremely intimate scene, children at play, and extract the public messages concealed in the depictions of children in modern art from Taiwan, examining closely the choice of themes, the historical background, the garments worn by the children, and the settings in which they play. In the first section we will briefly review depictions of children in Taiwan prior to the Second Sino-Japanese War of 1937 to 1945 and attempt to provide a detailed analysis of their distinctive features. In the second section, we will attempt a comprehensive overview of works including children produced between 1937 and 1945. These will be divided into three categories: children at work, mothers and children, and children in groups. These will be compared with what might be called public representations of children produced during the war, in which children are depicted as “little citizens” (shōkokumin) performing labor service. Then, in the third section, we will look in more detail at the three paintings mentioned above, demonstrating concretely how public messages are embodied in the individual works. This chapter will also make clear that while, as in the modern art world in Japan, unofficial, private art exhibitions in Taiwan did counter the official exhibitions, they did not attain sufficient stature to rival them. Moreover, many Japanese artists working in what was then a Japanese colony had works selected for the official exhibitions. Thus, they, as well as Taiwanese artists, played a role in creating the world of modern art in Taiwan, and their work will be regarded in this chapter as part of the modern art produced in Taiwan. 8.2

Depictions of Children, 1927–1936

8.2.1 The “Children’s Country” Created in Modern Japan Let us begin by briefly considering the definition of “child.” In Japan it is conventional to distinguish infants and toddlers, defined as three years old or younger, from children, who are defined as aged four to thirteen.1 In this chapter, however, the term “children” refers to both groups: all young human beings below the age of fourteen. 1 Miyajima 2001, p. 9.

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Prior to modern times, depictions of children were rare in picture scrolls and other forms of Japanese art.2 There are no depictions of children by themselves prior to the advent of nishiki-e (polychrome woodblock prints) in the eighteenth century. Most prints featuring children, moreover, are parodies, in which children are depicted performing adult activities and fun is made of the gap between childish and adult performance.3 There also exist a small number of portraits of children produced by a parent after the child had died.4 In the modern era, there are paintings such as Kishida Ryūsei’s many works entitled Reiko in which the artist records the growth of his own daughter Reiko. Here we see in the background the modern “rediscovery of the child.” In Japan, that rediscovery of the child began at the end of the first decade of  the twentieth century and extended into the second, as recognition of children’s individual characters and efforts to increase their independence became increasingly popular, especially among the middle class.5 Thus, for example, in the “Children’s Country” section of the Housing and Architecture volume of the Dainippon hyakka zenshū (Great Japan Encyclopedia, Seibundō, 1928), interior designer Kogure Joichi presented furniture specially designed for children and advocated the inclusion of separate children’s rooms in residential layouts to protect children’s privacy.6 Kogure’s proposal, captured in the title “children’s country,” is, as has been pointed out, a classic case of advocacy for recognizing children as independent individuals.7 In the 1930s, the children who appear in mystery writer Edogawa Rampo’s Shōnen tantei dan (Adolescent Detective Gang) and other works of fiction are described as living in quite large houses, each with his or her own room. That was plainly an extension of the “Children’s Country” concept exemplified by Kogure in the 1920s.8 8.2.2 “Home” and “Happy Family Get-Together” In Kogure’s floor plan for a modern residence, there are separate rooms for the parents and children, ensuring privacy for both. A living room was also included, providing a space for danran, that is, for the family to gather in happy unity. The term danran had already become popular during the Meiji period. 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Miyajima 2001, pp. 9–10. Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2001, p. 141. Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2001, p. 75. Kashiwagi 1987, pp. 101 and 106. Kashiwagi 1987, p. 106. Kashiwagi 1987, p. 107. Kashiwagi 1987, p. 108.

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For example, the illustration at the top of chapter 14 in Kodomo no shitsukekata (How to Bring Up Children, 1907) is titled Ikka danran, “A Happy Family Gathering.” It depicts a family relaxing together in the living room after dinner. Plump, five-year old Yū sits on his grandfather’s knee, embraced from behind while looking at his father. Seven-year old Hanako, whose face is as pretty as a flower, sits beside her grandmother. The baby born this year has fallen peacefully asleep while nursing at his mother’s breast. The smiling father appears to be saying something. Here we see a depiction of a happy family gathered around a low table and talking about the day’s events.9 Katei (home, family) was another term that came to be frequently used during the 1920s. Thus, for example, the children’s art magazine Akai tori (Red Bird) added the subtitle Katei no zasshi (A Family Magazine) starting with the sixth issue of its 21st volume, in 1928. It is said that this change reflected growing consciousness of child-centered homes.10 “Home” (katei) was a term attached to households in which there were both privacy and unity. It was also in the 1920s that the concept that homes equal children became established. Art produced during this period reflects this development. The painting Happy Family (Danran) shown by Tamaki Suekazu at the sixth National Creative Painting Association (Kokuga Sōsaku Kyōkai, or the Kokuga Kai) exhibition, in 1927 (Fig. 8.1), appears to depict a scene of happy unity as advocated in How to Bring Up Children. The most famous example from this period is, however, Family of N (N no kazoku), for which Koide Narashige was awarded the Chogyū Prize at the sixth Nika Exhibition (Nika Ten) in 1919. In this portrait of the artist’s own family, the son, an only child, is in the center of the painting; a better example of the child-centered family is hard to imagine. Here the contrast with Tamaki’s painting, in which the 9

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「五歳になる太った丸顔の勇さんは祖父さんの膝の上に腰を掛けて後から抱かれ て、父親の方を見て居るし、七歳になる花の様な美しい顔の花子さんは祖母さん の側に座って居るし、今年生まれたばかりの赤ちゃんは母さんの乳房をくはへて 安々と眠って居るし、お父さんは莞爾々々しながら何か話しをして居ます。これは 丁度今一家族の人々が大きなチャプ台を囲んで其の日の出来事を話し合って居 る一家団欒の有様であります。」Kodomo no Shitsukekata (How to bring up children) accessed at http://kindai.ndl.go.jp/BIImgFrame.php?JP_NUM=40069400&VOL_NUM =00000&KOMA=108&ITYPE=0. Kashiwagi 1987, p. 128.

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Figure 8.1 Tamaki Suekazu, Happy Family (Danran), 1927 (6th Kokugakai Exhibition), present whereabouts unknown.

father’s position in the center emphasizes patriarchy, is striking. Both paintings,­however, have much in common with the views expressed in How to Bring Up Children. It has been noted, however, with regard to Family of N, that “It does not look like a snippet of family life.”11 Indeed, this painting has far less of the naturalness we perceive in Happy Family. It appears to be a performance in full awareness that this is a painting, particularly in the Western-style hat the father, Koide, is wearing and the direction of his gaze. The same tendency can be seen in his Self-Portrait with a Hat (Bōshi wo kabutta jigazō, 1924). It isn’t just the Western-style hat. Suit, necktie, leather shoes: is there an artist who would paint a picture in such an outfit?12 Whether Koide actually dressed like this when he was painting is probably not too important. This is unmistakably a self-portrait of himself as an artist, and its unconventionality itself is characteristic of Koide’s style. That being the case, Family of N is a portrait of a family,  a depiction of a happy family together. We might venture to see Koide’s appearance as his rendering in the painting of how he would be dressed upon returning home to his family. 11 12

Kinoshita 1995, p. 78. Koide spent a half a year in Europe in 1922. After his return to Japan, he made a point of dressing in Western clothes (Awazu 1993, p. 264). Still, I do not believe that he painted while dressed in that manner. It has been pointed out that “artists at work dressed in unrealistically elegant clothing is something seen since ancient times,” (Miura 2003, p. 74), and this may be taken into account when considering Koide’s Western suit.

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Figure 8.2 Yamada Shinkichi, Family of Y (Y no kazoku), 1928 (2nd Taiten, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

A work similar to Family of N was selected for the Taiten: Yamada Shinkichi’s Family of Y (Y no kazoku, 1928; Fig.  8.2). The painter’s suit, the glass bottle and the coffee cup are all “things that speak of having traveled in the West.” The background indicates that the family has gone out to dinner together.13 We can also confirm the inference that the family is having dinner at a restaurant from the fact that the father is formally dressed in a suit and necktie. Wearing Western-style suits began in Japan in Meiji (1868–1912). It was during the Taishō period (1912–1929), with the establishment of a salaried, white-collar worker class, that wearing suits became widespread. Still, those men in suits would change into Japanese clothing when they came home.14 That is a scene that often appears in the films of Ozu Yasujirō. It is, thus, impossible to say that Family of Y portrays a happy family in a private moment. The title Family of Y may be a conscious reference to Family of N, but, in contrast to Koide, who included a book of Holbein’s paintings in his family portrait, there is nothing in Yamada’s painting to suggest the profession of painter. There is only one work of modern art produced in Taiwan that clearly points to the painter’s profession while depicting a happy family as Family of N does: Chen Cheng-po’s My Family (Watakushi no katei, 1930).15 In it we see not only the book Proletarian Art (Puroretaria kaigaron) but also the artist holding his palette and brush. Proletarian Art signals Chen’s consciousness of the Proletarian Art movement of the 1920s and 1930s, but his use of the word 13 14 15

Taiwan Meishu Zuxiang yu Wenhua Jieshi (Taiwan art imagery and cultural interpretation) accessed at http://ultra.ihp.sinica.edu.tw/~ yency/. Yōsōka (Adoption of Western clothing) accessed at http://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6 %B4%8B%E8%A3%85%E5%8C%96. The year listed in current monographs is 1931, but, based on the author’s calculations, the work was produced in 1930. For details, see Li 2005.

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“family” (katei) in the title provides another glimpse of Chen Cheng-po’s awareness of the times in which he was living. If we exclude Family of Y, we are left with only My Family as an example of portraits of happy families in which children are included. There are, however, numerous examples of paintings that show mothers and children, if not the whole family.16 Paintings that depict scenes within the home include Chen Chih-chi’s Three People (Sannin, 1928), in which the artist paints his own family, Yang San-lang’s Mother and Child (Haha to ko, 1935) and Stare (Gyōshi, 1936), and Horibe Isao’s Laundry (Sentaku, 1929), Mother (Haha, 1933), and Goldfish (Kingyo, 1934). In contrast, Eastern-style paintings frequently depict mothers and children outdoors. Miyauchi Mitsue’s In the Garden (Niwasaki, 1933), Chen Chin’s Banana Shrub (Ganshūge, 1933) and Field (Nobe, 1934), Wu Mei-ling’s A Corner of the Garden (Teien ichigū, 1935), and Kida Tamiko’s Fruit from the Back Garden (Goen no kajitsu, 1935) are all good examples. Apart from Fruit from the Back Garden, all are outdoor scenes with flowers. When, however, babies are shown nursing, since the mother’s breast is exposed, the scenes are set indoors. 8.2.3 Paintings of Children Only Paintings of parents and children that foregrounded “home” and “happy family get-together” concepts flourished in the late 1920s. What, then, of works in which only children are depicted? Huang Tu-shui, the first Taiwanese sculptor to have work chosen for the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts Exhibition (Teikoku Bijutsuin Tenrankai, the Teiten), produced not only marble heads and busts but also full figures: Aborigine Boy (Bandō, 1920) and Water Buffalo and Boy (Suigyū or Suigyū to Bokudō, 1923). In this section, we turn to works that depict children without adults. First, let us consider images of individual children. These paintings include Yamada Shinkichi’s Girl (Shōjo, 1927), Ogasawara Mitsue’s Girl (Shōjo, 1928), Lin Chin-hung’s Girl (Shōjo, 1929), Chen Cheng-po’s Little Boy (Ch: Xiao di-di, 1931), Liao Chi-chun’s Portrait of Little Nin (Nin chan no zō, 1933), Li Mei-shu’s Boy Collecting Fallen Leaves (Ch: Luoye de tongnian, 1934), and Yang San-lang’s Little Chou-rong (Shūyō chan, 1935). In addition to those portrait-type paintings, we also have other types of depiction, such as Zhou Hung-chou’s Young Girl (Shōjo, 1936), in which we see a child playing by itself indoors. Chen Chin’s Spring Flower (Haru no hana, 1921), Yamamoto Isokazu’s Teeter-totter (Buranko, 1929), Liao Chi-chun’s Girl with Basket (Kago wo moteru dōjo, 1930), and Lin Yu-shan’s 16

The absence of the father indicates, it has been pointed out, the father’s lack of involvement in child-rearing (Kinoshita 1995, p. 75).

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Figure 8.3 Ichiki Shiori, Goldfish (Kingyo), 1934 (8th Taiten, Eastern-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

Morning (Asa, 1936), all depict children outdoors. Among these, Liao Chichun’s painting, with a girl nude from the waist up, is unique. Among paintings that include two or more children, we find Ono Ikuko’s Sisters (Shimai, 1927), Tsai Ma-da’s Sisters Playing with Butterflies (Ch: Zimei nong andie, 1930), Chen Ching-hui’s Little Girls at Play (Shōjo gizu, 1932), Murasawa Setsuko’s Playing House (Mamagoto, 1933), Ichiki Shiori’s Goldfish (Kingyo, 1934), Yamasaki Takeo’s Taiwan’s Children (Taiwan no kodomotachi, 1934), and Liao Chi-chun’s Two Children (Kodomo futari, 1934) and his two paintings entitled At the Window (Madogiwa, 1935, 1936). Playing House and Sisters Playing with Butterflies are rare examples of paintings that show children outdoors engaged in typical children’s activities. The former is purely Japanese in style, the latter Chinese in style. Goldfish (Fig. 8.3) shows three children in a garden with goldfish in a goldfish bowl. Ozawa Akinari’s Landscape (Fūkei, 1932) and Yamamoto Isokazu’s Children’s Playground (Kodomo no asobiba, 1930) show children, but as their titles indicate, the landscape and playground are their primary themes. The children only appear as elements in the landscapes. These paintings are not addressed in this chapter. When we look for paintings from the art world in Taiwan from before 1937 that include three or more children and exclude Landscape and Children’s Playground, only Goldfish is left. 8.3

Depictions of Children, 1937–1945

8.3.1 Working Children When war between Japan and China broke out in July, 1937, the 11th Taiten was canceled. The next year, however, these official exhibitions resumed, reorganized

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by the Office of the Governor General of Taiwan as the Governor-General’s Art Exhibition (Futen). In its new guise as the Futen, the official exhibition continued to play the leading role in the art world in Taiwan. In art of what we might call the Futen period, the number of works deeply imbued by the wartime situation continues to increase as the war advanced. At the same time, the number of works depicting children increased. In this section, I examine differences between the Futen and Taiten periods, focusing on paintings categorized into three thematic groups: “Working Children,” “Mothers and Children,” and “Children in Groups.” Let us begin with paintings in the Working Children category, a new theme. Here we find such works as Lin Rung-jie’s Child with Castor Beans (Hima to kodomo, 1938), Arima Shūzō’s The Castor Bean Garden (Himaen, 1938), Satozawa Han (Lee Tse-fan)’s Hay (Bokusō, 1942), Washizaki Suzue’s Village Children (Sondō, 1942), and Iida Jitsuo’s Gathering Oil Seeds (Yuka saishu, 1943). As the war progressed, youngsters were redefined as “little citizens” (shōkokumin) instead of children (jidō).17 They became part of the labor force, doing their bit for the nation. Art celebrated their labor. Since they were unfit for heavy labor, children were given such relatively simple jobs as raising and harvesting castor beans. The oil from the beans was used to lubricate aircraft engines, according to contemporary newspaper accounts;18 planting “Patriotic Castor Beans” was being promoted by the Imperial Subjects’ Public Service Association, which was driving the Kōminka movement to redefine the Taiwanese as imperial subjects (Fig. 8.4). In such works, militarist ideology was given visual expression in paintings. Child with Castor Beans (Fig. 8.5) looks like a scene from a “stirring tale of child raising castor beans” who works to the point of exhaustion.19 The Castor Bean Garden portrays the children who are being taught about castor beans at their school. In Gathering Oil Seeds (Fig. 8.6) the leaves on the plants resemble those of the castor bean plant. In Village Children (Fig. 8.7) the children are lined up holding baskets in their hands. They appear to be about to set out as a group to take part in the harvest. Now look more closely at Child with Castor Beans. The haircut tells us that this is a girl, but she is barefoot and wears short pants. Her blouse has the collar 17

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On September 2, 1941, Yamamoto Yūzō, a member of the committee in charge of preparations for the formation of the Nihon Jidōbunka Kyōkai (Japan Children’s Culture Association) proposed the deletion of jidō (children) from its name and the substitution of shōkokumin (little citizens). Mainichi Shimbunsha 1989, p. 240. “It’s war. Grow more castor beans for the sake of our eagles.” 「戦争だ、荒鷲の為に　大 いに蓖麻を作れ」 Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), May 22, 1943, p. 2. “Let’s raise castor beans.”「ヒマを作ろう」Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), August 11, 1943, p. 2.

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Figure 8.4 “Patriotic Castor Beans,” Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō, May 22, 1943, p. 2.

Figure 8.5 Lin Rung-jie, Child with Castor Beans (Hima to kodomo), 1938 (1st Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

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Figure 8.6 Iida Jitsuo, Gathering Oil Seeds (Yuka saishu), 1943 (6th Futen, Western-style painting section, Special Selection), present whereabouts unknown.

Figure 8.7 Washizaki Suzue, Village Children (Sondō), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

distinctive to a Chinese garment, with the opening on the right. This is the classic blouse and pants combination worn by Chinese women from the end of the Qing Dynasty through the start of the Republic of China.20 The bamboo hat she holds in her right hand, with its triangular cross-section, signals that this is Taiwan. We see the same features in Village Children. 20

Xie 2004, pp. 51–52.

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In contrast, in Hay (Fig. 8.8) we see two barefoot children, who appear to be brother and sister, standing in a meadow. She wears a dress, her eyes are lowered, and she holds the bamboo basket full of hay. Her brother is bare from the waist up. He wears pants and a Western-style hat. In his left hand he holds a handful of hay, in his right a sickle, and he looks intently toward us. There are neither castor beans nor distinctive clothing to tell us that this is Taiwan; but this, too, should be seen as a portrayal of children working for the imperial cause. As the castor beans become aircraft fuel, the hay becomes fodder for the army’s horses.21 Like growing castor beans, harvesting hay was a task for which students were mobilized, and their valor was described in glowing newspaper reports.22 In the case of Hay, however, there is nothing to show us that the setting is Taiwan. On the contrary, the boy’s Western-style hat is striking. During the war, virtually all boys wore “national uniform caps” that resembled school or military caps. To the best of my knowledge, there is no other painting besides Hay in which a boy is

Figure 8.8 Satozawa Han (Li Tse-fan), Hay (Bokusō), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

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“Providing additional hay an important role for Taiwan.”「牧草の補給源として　重要な 臺灣の役割」Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), August 27, 1937, evening edition, p. 2. For example, from the Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō, “Middle school student workers plant over 1500 tsubo of grass for hay on barren ground in Tainan”「荒地一千五百餘坪に　牧 草を栽培　臺南一中生勤行奉仕」(August 14, 1938, p. 5) or “Students raise hay to show love for the troops”「物言はぬ戰士へ愛　學徒牧草栽培に奉仕」(July 21, 1943, p. 4). Stories and photographs celebrate students working as part of the war effort.

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depicted wearing that kind of hat, which appears to be a panama hat of a type that began to be worn in the Meiji period by men when going out.23 In fact, however, panama hats were being made in Taiwan when this picture was painted. “Soon it will summer, time for a panama. Labeled as 100 percent locally produced, the hat with brim is unusually coming into fashion,” said one newspaper article. “The Japan panama debuts in these extraordinary times as a name filled with national pride,” it continued, and described hats made in Taiwan as “the Taiwan panama, made in Qingshui Road in a town called Dajia (Dajia hats), the lintou hat, and paper panamas, which are also suitable for the masses.”24 The commercialization of Taiwan panamas made from lamp rush grown in Yuanli in Shinchiku (Hsinchu) Prefecture was first proposed by Asai Mototoshi, an official at the local branch of the Office of the Governor General, in 1897. Promoted by the Japanese colonial government as a local industry, panama hats had by 1936 become No. 3 on the list of the top five products of Taiwan, after sugar and rice.25 The industry peaked during the 1930s, when more than 90 percent of the local population was involved in the lamp rush trade.26 The artist who produced Hay, Li Tse-fan,27 was born in Hsinchu. The panama hat that appears that painting may look at first glance like a Western-style hat, but like the Western-style architecture of Hsinchu Station, which forms the background for Sending Off the Troops (Ch: Songchuzheng), it functions as a code indicating Hsinchu, a distinct part of Taiwan. Children contributing labor to public projects in wartime were, then, a frequent theme in depictions of the war effort. What, then, of other types of pictures in which children appear? We turn now to pictures of mothers and children. 23 24

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Panama Bō (Panama hats), accessed at http://www.hat.hi-ho.ne.jp/heart_thoughts/ panama/hat.html. “Soon it will summer, time for a panama. Labeled as 100 percent locally produced, the hat with brim is unusually coming into fashion.” 「近づくパナマの夏　純國産と銘打つて　珍らし やツバ附流行の兆」Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), May 19, 1935, p. 4. Yuanli County Triangle Rush Exhibition Hall accessed at http://61.218.188.100/treh/. The Everyday Craft of Weaving: Zhen-fa Straw Hat Making, accessed at http://blog.sina .com.tw/orange/article.php?pbgid=4548&entryid=11702. He also took the Japanese name Satozawa Han. In Taiwan a movement to change to Japanese-style names began in 1940. People weren’t forced to do it, but were told that “Changing your name will be beneficial.” Ke De-san, “Bogoku ha Nippon, Sokoku ha Taiwan: Aru Nihongozoku Taiwanjin no Kokuhaku”「母国は日本　祖国は台湾――或る日本語 族台湾人の告白」 (Japan as Motherland, Taiwan as Fatherland: Confessions of a Japanese Speaking Taiwanese), accessed at http://www.sakuranohana.jp/book_bokoku _d6.html.

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8.3.2 Mothers and Children Portrayals of mothers and children include Chen Chin’s Mulberries (Kuwa no mi, 1939), Nezu Shizuko’s Mother and Child (Haha to ko, 1942), Hayashi Rinnosuke (Lin Chih-chu)’s Mother and Child (Boshi, 1942) and Good Day (Yoi hi, 1943), Lin Bo-shou’s Lotus (Suiren, 1942), Takamori Ungen (Tsai Yun-Yan)’s My Day, (Boku no hi, 1943) , Li Mei-shu’s Boy Teasing Turkeys (Ch: Wangnong huoji de xiaohai, 1943), Inda Shigeru’s Airplane: Banzai! (Hikōki banzai, 1938), and Li Chiu-ho’s Practice (Shūsaku, 1942). The intention of whipping up martial spirit in Airplane: Banzai! (Fig. 8.9), accentuated by the boy’s striking banzai pose, is already evident from the title. It is also present in My Day (Fig.  8.10),28 whose title refers to Youth Day (April 17). Here we see a mother and son in a Chinese-style room. She is holding out to him a model fighter plane with the Rising Sun on its wings. Like the practice of building models of fighter aircraft at school, this toy aircraft was an educational device to inculcate martial thinking in boys, to lay the groundwork for when they would be mobilized. The cloth covering the altar table is embroidered with the characters 祈武[運長久] (ki bu [un chōkyū]), “Praying for Military Success.” These words are indicate what is intended here. These are characters that were frequently embroidered on the Japanese flags given to young men

Figure 8.9 Inda Shigeru, Airplane: Banzai! (Hikōki banzai), 1938 (1st Futen, Western-style painting section, Special Selection, Governor General’s Prize), present whereabouts unknown. 28

From the collection of the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Art. After WWII, the artist himself replaced the Japanese rising-sun on the wings of the aircraft with the Kuomintang’s “Blue Sky with a White Sun.”

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Figure 8.10 Takamori Ungen (Tsai Yun-Yan), My Day (Boku no hi), 1943 (6th Futen, Eastern-style painting section), National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, Taipei.

when they departed for the front or on the commemorative streamers prepared on such occasions. On Taiwanese altars, it is usually the names of the deities and prayers for long life that are embroidered on the altar cloth. We can see, then, how much elements intended to whip up warlike feelings were emphasized in this painting.29 Nonetheless, both the room and the mother’s clothing are Chinese in style. It goes without saying that the setting is not China; those features are, rather, evidence of Taiwan’s legacy of Chinese culture. The Taiwanese mother is behaving like a proper “Mother of the Empire,” teaching her son to fight to the death for the Emperor of Japan.30 In contrast, in both Hayashi Rinnosuke (Lin Chih-chu)’s Mother and Child and Lin Bo-shou’s Lotus (Fig. 8.11) the mother and child appear to be in a garden admiring lotus blossoms.31 In the former lotuses are growing in the pond; 29

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As a contemporary newspaper report, “Toys and war: Toys that embody patriotic spirit” 「玩具と戦争　愛国の精神は玩具にも」 (Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō, August 6, 1940, p. 4, and August 8, 1940, p. 4) suggests, the toys aircraft and tanks that appeared in Hayasaka Yoshihiro (Yeh Hou-cheng)’s Morning made the painting more than a portrayal of a part of everyday life. The technique of incorporating militarist ideology in art with a Taiwanese flavor can also be seen in Chen Chin’s Mulberries. For details see the author’s doctoral dissertation, cited above (Li 2005). Hayashi Rinnosuke (Lin chih-chu)’s Mother and Child is reproduced in Exh. Cat. Taipei 1943, p. 24; Wang 2008, p. 121. It can be also searched at Archives of Art Exhibitions in

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Figure 8.11 Lin Bo-shou, Lotus (Suiren), 1942 (5th Futen, Eastern-style painting section, Special Selection), present whereabouts unknown.

in the latter a lotus is in large, ceramic planter. Both works were selected for special selection in the Eastern-style Painting section of the same official exhibition, and Mother and Child received the Governor General’s Prize. In the same year, Tateishi Tesshin’s Sun in Lotus Pond (Hasuike nichirin, Fig. 8.12) was selected for the Western-style Painting section. Since Lin Yu-shan’s Lotus Pond (Hasuike, 1930 Taiten Prize winner),32 the lotus as a primary motif was virtually undepicted until 1942. Human figures do not appear in either Lotus Pond or Sun in Lotus Pond, but the egret that appears in the former gives it a Taiwanese flavor. In the latter the sun is reflected in the pond. The sun in this painting, like the “rising sun” symbol, is also a reference to the Japanese Empire. A 1925 newspaper article, for example, describes a use of characters for “sun” (nichirin) as blasphemous disrespect for the national polity.33 The article was reporting the accusation by an ordinary citizen in Tokyo of those involved with the movie Nichirin (The Sun) of having committed disrespect verging on lése májesty because the film constructs a fictitious legend about the sun. In 1934 an ordinary citizen living in Tainan was reported

32 33

Taiwan 1927–1943 (「台湾美術展覧会 (1927–1943) 作品資料庫」) http://ndweb.iis .sinica.edu.tw/twart/System/index.htm. From the collection of the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Art. “The movie The Sun has blasphemed against the majesty of the national polity”「国体の 尊厳を冒涜した活写『日輪』」 Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), December 12, 1925, p. 3.

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Figure 8.12 Tateishi Tesshin, Sun in Lotus Pond (Hasuike nichirin), 1942 (5th Futen, Western-style painting section), National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, Taipei.

to have said, “Worshipping the sun (nichirin) is the epitome of national spirit.”34 The story continued, “The sun is the sacred form of our imperial ancestor on high, and the Japanese emperor is the sacred descendent of the sun and a living god.”35 In both cases, the remarks were attributed to individuals, but the fact that the stories were reported in the newspapers itself underlines the fact of the endorsement of the use of the image of the sun in that patriotic way. In time it was used to give form to a broad consensus among the people, with Nichirin even used as the name for the “Imperial Subjects Training Ground.”36 In Sun in Lotus Pond, only a single lotus blossom appears, positioned as if responding to the round sun, which is at a diagonal to it. The lotus blossom appears to have just begun to bloom. At that time, the popular and said to be exclusively Japanese legend that when the lotus blossom opens it makes an energetic popping sound was being introduced to Taiwan.37 In a 1940 article, Ōtsuki Kenji, who identifies himself as a psychoanalyst, says that the origins of this legend are to be found in the fact that the lotus blooms “in the early morning, just as the sun is rising (at its moment of birth).” He continues, “In Japan,

34 35 36

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「日輪礼拝は国民精神の一端」Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), November 11, 1934, evening edition, p. 3. 「日輪は我が鼻祖天照皇大神様の御姿であって、日本天皇様は日の御子現神」 “Residents of Tainan design Nichirnsha training dojo. Construction to start soon”「台南州 民の錬成道場「日輪舍」設計なり、愈よ近く着工」 in Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), September 14, 1941, p. 4, and “Seeing bravery on the home front: General Takahashi’s diary, part 1: On the Nichirinsha sacred training ground for imperial subjects” 「銃後の敢闘を見る　高橋大將隨行斷片記(一)/皇民錬成の聖域『日輪 舍』」in Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), July 25, 1943, p. 4. “The lotus blossom and the Japanese” 「蓮の華と日本人」, part 1, in Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), August 4, 1940, p. 4.

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long known as the ‘Land of the Rising Sun,’ it is only natural for the Japanese to feel a strong affinity with the sun…. It signifies the bright red sun (the giant red infant) rising powerfully from the sea (the mother)….”38 In Taiwan of this period, it was thought that the lotus blossom is significant for the Japanese and connects especially with the early morning sun. While Sun in Lotus Pond is an expression of this image, Mother and Child and Lotus have a slightly different focus. Like Sun in Lotus Pond, these two paintings also depict lotus blossoms, but here the blossoms have not just begun to bloom; they are nearly in full bloom and, thus, closer in form to the sun’s full circle. The two mothers’ Taiwanese clothing, the back of the settee, the water jug, and the window are all modeled and painted in a Chinese style. The two children, however, are wearing Western-style clothing. In this basic respect, these paintings resemble My Day. Both the rising suns on the aircraft and the lotus blossoms are symbols of the Japanese empire and “the Japanese spirit.” Both are permeated with ideology of militarism as well as of defining Taiwanese as imperial subjects. That ideology appears in a different form in Boy Teasing Turkeys (Fig. 8.13). This is the largest of Li Mei-shu’s surviving works, but because of the “delicacy”

Figure 8.13 Li Mei-shu, Boy Teasing Turkeys (Shichimenchō to tawamureru kodomo), oil on canvas, 227 × 182 cm, 1937, Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery, Taipei. 38

“The lotus blossom and the Japanese” 「蓮の華と日本人」, part 2, in Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), August 6, 1940, p. 4. The original text is as follows:「日本国 土は昔から〈日出づる国〉として、その住民が他の国土以上に、特に太陽に同一 化する(あやかる)傾向を強く帯びてゐる(略)それは真赤な太陽(偉大なる赤ん坊) が海洋(母体)の中から威勢よく出産すること象徴的に意味してゐる(略)」.

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of a motif in it (the Japanese military cap, part of the wartime “national uniform”), it was kept out of sight after the war and has only recently been restored and shown in public.39 As the painter’s eldest son, Li Jing-yang, recalls, the woman in the white dress is the painter’s wife, the girl sitting on the ground is the painter’s daughter Li Li-yue, and the figure off to the left is Li Jing-yang himself. I was seven. That was 68 years ago. I took just the pose my father told me to. War between Japan and China had broken out on July 7, and everyone started wearing military caps that fall. To me the best part of this picture is the way my mother is looking at me. It is better to understand the meaning of this picture when looking at it from a distance.40 He did not mention the title of this painting, or if it was Japanese; its original title remains unknown.41 We also do not know if this painting was exhibited at the time.42 What we do know, both from the military cap and Li Jing-yang’s recollections, is that it was painted sometime after the Second Sino-Japanese War began in July. There are several surviving studies for this work (here I will refer to them as studies A, B, and C). Study A (Fig.  8.14) is for the complete work, Study B (Fig. 8.15) is an upper-body portrait of the wife, and Study C is a full-length portrait of her. When we compare the completed work with Study A, we notice several changes. First, the figure behind the daughter in study A has disappeared in the completed work. In the completed work, the daughter has been moved closer to the foreground. Moreover, in Study A, there are a wooden wall and bushes in the middle distance to the left of the woman. There are trees and a traditional farmhouse in the background to her right. In the completed work, the wooden wall has been eliminated, and a red earth surface fills the space behind her. In place of the wall, there are now two tree trunks and the crown of the tree, which resembles a cloud. Two turkeys now appear in the middle distance, and the background has changed dramatically. The tightly enclosed space in Study A becomes the more open space of the completed work. There 39 40

41 42

Exh. Cat. Taipei 1997, p. 84. Travels in the sea of art, a pioneer of Taiwanese Art: Li Mei-shu, part 1「【藝海漫遊】台灣美 術的先驅 – 李梅樹(上)」, accessed at http://www.epochtimes.com/b5/6/5/23/n1326757 .htm. A number of other titles in Chinese have been found. The work may have been submitted to that year’s Taiten. Since, however, that Taiten was cancelled, the work was never shown.

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Figure 8.14 Study A for Fig. 8.13, Boy Teasing Turkeys, Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery, Taipei.

Figure 8.15 Study B for Fig. 8.13, Boy Teasing Turkeys, Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery, Taipei.

is now a clear boundary between the space in the foreground and the trees in the background, dividing the picture plane in two. The other dramatic difference is in the portrayals of the artist’s wife and son. In Study A she appears to be a young woman, holding a white basket on her left arm. In the completed work she has become middle-aged. We can glimpse this change in Studies B

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and C, noting in particular, the treatment of the right arm. In Study A her forefinger is extended. In Study B, her hand has become a lightly clenched fist. In Study C and the completed version, her fist is pressed tightly against her chest. Does this pose have any significance? She may appear to be worried, but her relaxed expressed and the slightly raised corners of her mouth suggest pleasure. The fact that she is looking at her son is clearly relevant here. The figure of the boy displays the greatest changes. In Study A he is still a toddler. In the completed work he has become a growing boy. His clothes change from a brown everyday garment to a white shirt and short pants held up by suspenders. He also now wears a military-style cap. In contrast to the toddler who leans slightly forward onto his extended right foot, the boy has both feet firmly planted on the ground and stands firmly erect. Both have their mouths open and thrust their hands toward the turkeys. But while the toddler appears to be imitating the turkeys as he advances toward them, the boy appears to be issuing an order, holding out his hands as if to block the turkeys’ advance.43 Comparing the study to the finished work, one can see how changes in the son bring a whole new atmosphere to the painting. Study A seems like a snapshot from real life. In the completed work, the boy wearing wartime “national uniform” clothing and a military-style cap strikes a pose that suggests that he is defending his mother and sister from the turkeys. In any case, the turkeys probably represent America or some other external enemy.44 Since America was supporting the Chiang Kai-shek government during the war between Japan and China, America was seen as an enemy to Japan. The sister’s geta (Japanese-style sandals), which appear in the completed work but not in Study A, can be seen as a symbol of Japaneseness. The pose that the mother strikes with her right hand can be seen as a gesture of respect for the brave son who is defending her. In these changes from the studies to the finished work, we can, of course, see the influence of the war between Japan and China that broke out in 1937. The shift to a large, F150 canvas also suggests this change in theme. It is likely 43

44

As demonstrated by the headline “American Air Force turkeys change their signs again!” 「米空軍宛然〈七面鳥〉またも標識を変更」(Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō, November 11, 1943, evening edition, p. 2), and similar news reports, “turkey” was a term of disrespect for people or things that changed too easily. That does not, however, appear to be the significance of the turkey in this painting. The modern turkey is a cross between the American wild turkey and the guinea fowl brought to Europe from Turkey. Anecdotes tell us that the American wild turkey was once proposed as the national bird of the United States of America. Accessed at http://ja .wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%B8%83%E9%9D%A2%E9%B3%A5.

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that the artist was thinking of submitting this work to the Teiten in Japan. During this period having a work accepted for the Teiten was the highest goal of Taiwanese artists, and every year they painted two paintings, the better of which they submitted to the Teiten, while the other they submitted to the Taiten, the exhibition in Taiwan. They would show, unaltered, the works returned from the Teiten, which was held in the fall, at the Taiyōten the following spring.45 This large painting, with its timely theme, may have been a response to cheers greeting Japanese victories at the start of the war. The facts of if, when, and where it was shown require further investigation. As these examples reveal, most of the portraits of mother and child produced at that time showed the influence of the war. We can see the same sorts of changes in response to the times even in portrayals of nursing mothers, which might be expected to focus entirely on the mother’s love for the child. Examples include Iida Jitsuo’s Plan for a Southern Co-prosperity Sphere (Nanpō kyōeiken kōsō) or Ishihara Shizan’s Refugees in Tarlac (Tarurakku no hinanmin).46 8.3.3 Children in Groups In addition to Village children and Gathering Oil Seeds discussed above, paintings of groups of children include Li Mei-shu’s When Azaleas Bloom (Tsutsuji saku koro, 1940) and three works by Tajima Masatomo, Four Children (Yonin no ko, 1940), Village Children (Mura no kodomo, 1940), and Boys from a Small Village (Shōson no ko, 1942). When Azaleas Bloom (Fig. 8.16), which depicts four children, was shown at the Taiyōten. In the right-hand side of the picture, an older girl sits on a large rock. She is wearing a long-sleeved shirt, skirt, and geta and absorbed in reading a book. The other three are beside her, squatting on the ground as they play. The smallest girl, the one with her back to us, is wearing a white apron over Japanese-style clothing and is grasping what looks like a stick in her left hand. The girl facing her is wearing a long-sleeved sailor suit and looking at the third girl. The girl on the left is bending over, her head down. A clump of what appear to be azalea bushes is behind them, with a forest filling the background. It is not possible to determine what sort of play they are engaged in or to identify clear links between it and the times. Tajima Masatomo’s Village Children, in which a group of children appear, was shown at the same Taiyōten. His Four Children and Boys from a Small

45 46

Shaih 2006, p. 10. For more about this work, see the previously cited doctoral dissertation (Li 2005).

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Figure 8.16

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Li Mei-shu, When Azaleas Bloom (Tsutsuji saku koro), 1940 (6th Taiyoten, member submission), present whereabouts unknown.

Village (Fig.  8.17) were both selected for the Futen. All three paintings are very similar. All are upper-body portraits of standing children in groups that fill the canvas. Only Four Children is set indoors, in what appears to be a classroom, with the children exchanging glances and looking at something held in their hands. In Village Children, three boys stand facing each other in a landscape with houses on the plain behind them. In the right-hand side of the picture, we see a toddler, who might be the boys’ younger brother, portrayed in a side view, clutching the hem of his brother’s shirt, his eyes cast down. Since all four boys wear long-sleeved shirts, that the season may be winter. It would be difficult to go further in discussing the specifics of the scenes in both these works. In Boys from a Small Village, five boys stand in two lines, with mountains in the background. The eyes of all five are focused on something outside the picture plane, to the left; that concentration distinguishes this painting from the others. We see a similar image in Chen Chin’s Roar (Bakuon, 1939).47 Here we see three figures from the back, a small girl in a one-piece dress and two women wearing cheongsam (Chinese style long dresses), all standing in a line. We cannot see what they are looking at; but from the title, Roar, we can infer that they are standing 47

This painting is reproduced in Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2005, p. 61, fig. 6.

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Figure 8.17 Tajima Masatomo, Boys from a Small Village (Shōson no ko), 1942 (5th Futen, Westernstyle painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

at attention, showing respect to the Japanese military aircraft. We can easily imagine that something similar is going on in Boys from a Small Village. We could perhaps regard it as a variant of Airplane: Banzai!, discussed earlier.48 8.4

Public Messages Concealed in Group Portraits of Children

8.4.1 Through “Singing” It is difficult now to interpret the significance of the groups of children who appear in the works of Li Mei-shu and Tajima Masatomo. The situation is different, however, in the case of Li Shih-chiao’s group portrait of children entitled Singing Children (Utau kodomotachi; now entitled Chorus, Fig. 8.18) that was shown in the 1943 Taiyōten. We know from the artist’s own words that this painting is an expression of warlike ideology. In Singing Children, the two central figures are a small boy wearing a military cap and an older boy wearing a “national uniform” with a white 48

In the world of Nihonga, Mito Keinosuke’s work with the same title, Roar (Bakuon, 1942), is another example. However, the pointing fingers, hands raised to shade the eyes, the active poses of the children, and the use of model airplanes to hint at what the children are looking at all make that painting strikingly different from Boys from a Small Village and this Roar.

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Figure 8.18 Li Shih-chiao, Children Singing (Chorus, Utau kodomotachi), Li Shih-chiao Art Museum, Taipei.

collar.49 The older boy is directing as all the children sing patriotic songs. This subject resembles that in Yamasaki Konshō’s The Sound of East Asia Peace (Tōyō heiwa no hibiki, Fig. 8.19), which was shown at the first Sacred War Art Exhibition (Seisen Bijutsuten, 1939). There are no instances in modern art in Japan, however, treating the theme of children engaged in this activity, even in A Picture Album of the Holy War (Seisen gafu, 1939).50 From the children’s serious expressions and the air raid shelter in the background, this painting is clearly on a different dimension from images of children playing soldier or the parodies with children engaging in adult activities mentioned earlier. Concerning Singing Children, the artist himself said, “I portrayed children… united in the face of our current situation…. The painting was intended to convey that use of air raid shelters was impending. But the children are singing in 49

50

On November 2, 1940, an order was promulgated, under which men and boys were required to wear “national uniforms,” which were similar to military uniforms in style as well as in color. One type resembled a Western-style suit. Boys were to wear the simpler type, which resembled a school uniform. See Mainichi Shimbunsha 1984, p. 24; Mainichi Shimbunsha 1989, p. 223. The publication history of A Picture Album of the Holy War is unclear. Since it is bilingual, in English as well as Japanese, it may have been intended as propaganda for use overseas. Given the quality of the plates and luxurious binding, it seems to have been intended as a comprehensive catalog of art exhibitions devoted to “Sacred War Art.”

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Figure 8.19 Yamasaki Konshō, Sound of East Asia Peace (Tōyō heiwa no hibiki), oil, 1939 (1st Sacred War Art Exhibition), present whereabouts unknown.

front of a shelter…. They are singing a military song or something…to communicate how they are united in hope and joy as they face their suffering.”51 Indeed, Li Shih-chiao had previously said about Ishihara Shizan’s Refugees in Tarlac that, “The human figures are painted in the Western style, but the trees in the background are painted in the Japanese style. Wartime art should have strength and hope.”52 It is clear that in Singing Children, Li Shih-chiao was aiming to manifest that same combination of strength and hope. Shaih Li-fa has said, “It may have been unconscious.”53 It was not. The air raid shelter in Singing Children was not the underground type portrayed in Chen Chin’s Prospect (Chōbō, 1945). It seems closer to the cave type constructed in the outskirts of cities that is portrayed in Hashimoto Kansetsu’s Air Raid Shelter (Bōkūgo, 1942, Fig. 8.20). In contrast, however, to the upper-class 51

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「子供を…今の時局に一本に結びつけて描いた(略)。防空壕は非常に逼迫したこ とを意味する。然しその前で子供が歌つて居る。(略)。軍歌か何か(略)云はゞ一つ の苦しみ、もがきから最後は希望、喜びまで結びつけて来る」 “War and art: A discussion focusing on the Taiyoten” 「台陽展を中心に戦争と美術を語る(座談)」, in Taiwan Bijutsu (Taiwan Art), March 1945, reprinted in Yen 2001, pp. 381–389. 「人物の描き方が洋画風で、バックの樹木が日本画風ですね。戦争画の後味は、 力と希望があつて欲しいものです」 “The Governor General’s Exhibition and the art world” 「府展の作品と美術界」, Shinchikusyu Shibao (Shinchiku Times), December, 1943, reprinted in Yen 2001, pp. 341–342. Shaih 1978, p. 196.

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Figure 8.20 Hashimoto Kansetsu, Air Raid Shelter (Bōkūgō), 1942 (5th Bunten), National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo.

elegance and exoticism of Chen Chin’s work or the fantasy quality of Hashimoto’s painting, the group of children in Singing Children shows the air raid shelter as an actual, public place. The boy in the national uniform is holding out his hand and conducting. The other children are following his lead as they sing. Among them are some children dressed in Chinese clothing. In The Sound of East Asia Peace, there are also women in Chinese clothing and other Chinese people standing behind the conductor, assembled to hear the program. The fact that a Japanese soldier is conducting illustrates that Japan achieves East Asia Peace. This painting is, in effect, a pictorial representation of slogans such as “The Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere,” which was centered on Japan. Other works in which a chorus is the major motif include Moriwaki Tadashi’s The Cavalry Advances (Aibashingunka)54 and Kitamura Seibō’s Chorus (Gasshō), both of which lend themselves to the same interpretation. In the former a woman wearing Chinese cheongsam places her hand on the shoulder of a woman dressed in Japanese kimono. The two are joined in friendly 54

For this work and comments on modern art in wartime Taiwan, see Li 2006.

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Figure 8.21 Li Shih-chiao, Children in the Garden (Niwasaki no kodomotachi), 1941 (4th Futen, Western-style painting section), present whereabouts unknown.

harmony as they sing the song “The cavalry advances” (Army Ministry selection, March 1939). The latter was a six-foot tall bronze statue of Japanese, Manchu, and Korean schoolgirls singing together, placed below a “tower of education” erected to celebrate the educational spirit of the South Manchuria Railway Company.55 In both works, national costume is used to differentiate members of different ethnic groups. As we shall see later in Children in the Garden (Niwasaki no kodomotachi, Fig. 8.21) as well, this use of dress to distinguish members of different groups was easy to combine with other motifs and, thus, frequently used in “Sacred War Art.” That is a vital point to remember when interpreting art from this period. 8.4.2 Through “Clothing” Taiwan art historian Hsiao Chong-ray has noted that the use of clothing to mark differences in Singing Children, Children in the Garden, and Lin Yu-chu’s Friendship (Mutsubi, Fig. 8.22) makes all three “works expressing a mingling of Japanese and Taiwanese culture.” In other words, in both Friendship and Children in the Garden, we see that, “when it comes to reception of culture, especially changes in clothing, women are free to change than men, even in the case of children who are dressed by adults.” The clothing that appears in 55

Located in Kasuga Park in Mukden, Manchuria. Unveiled on 6 November, 1938. Art Research Institute 1940, p. 92.

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Figure 8.22 Lin Yu-chu, Friendship (Mutsubi), 1941 (4th Futen, Eastern-style painting section), formerly heir’s collection.

Singing Children is “a faithful representation of society at that time. So here, for example, there is a boy wearing a military cap, girls wearing geta, children wearing Chinese clothes, all sorts of Western and Japanese-style things.”56 There is, however, more than the faithful reproduction of what was seen at the time. In Lin Yu-chu’s Friendship, the woman wearing Japanese kimono and the woman wearing Chinese clothes are holding hands. Its prototype is Italy and Germania by Friedrich Overbeck (1828, now in the Neue Pinakothek, Munich), a painting expressing friendship between those two countries.57 This painting was printed in the Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News, June 5, 1938, p. 6) as “Sisterly Love: Italy and Germany” with the caption: “This painting in which Germany and Italy feel the first stirrings of the destiny that unites them was painted more than a hundred years ago…. Now, in the twentieth century, the image has become a reality. These two women will be as they are for the time being.”58 In Manchukuo, the government commissioned Okada Saburousuke to paint The Happy Land of the Way of the Kings (Ōdō rakudo) to decorate the Great Hall of its State Council.59 This painting depicts “China, Manchuria, Japan, Korea, and Mongolia as five young girls holding hands, symbolizing the five peoples living in harmony.”60 Each of the five girls is dressed in the national costume of her people. 56 57 58

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Hsiao 2000, p. 53. “If this painting were to be given another name, ‘Friendship’ would probably be best.” Von Einem 1985, p. 385, n. 69. 「友愛の二女性(伊太利と独逸)」「ドイツと伊太利とが、運命の共同体であるとい

ふ最初の予感は、百年前早くも斯くして描き出されてゐるのだが、それが、二 十世紀の今日、完全に具現され充実されるに至つたのだ。この両女性は、当 分この儘であらう」Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), June 5, 1938, p. 6. Exh. Cat. Himeji 2002, p. 81. 「支那、満州、日本、朝鮮、蒙古の五少女が仲良く手をつないだ図、五族協和を 象徴」Atelier, 1937, p. 122.

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This kind of portrayal is a conventional form of wartime propaganda. In posters announcing the founding of Manchukuo, leaflets intended for use as  propaganda in India, and a poster titled Japan, Manchuria, China, Three Young Men (Nichimanshi San Shōnen, 1939, Fig. 8.23), we see a Japanese boy in a school uniform in the center with his arms around Chinese and Manchurian boys wearing their national dress. The three national flags are in the background. The Japanese Rising Sun flag is in the center, flanked on the left by the new five-colored flag of Manchukuo; they clearly refer to the two boys standing in front of them. The problematic flag is the one behind the Chinese boy on the right. It is another version of the new five-colored flag. Since including the flag of an enemy state, China, would not be appropriate, the Chinese boy is depicted with a basket of orchids and peonies on his left instead.61

Figure 8.23 Japan, Manchuria, China, Three Young Men (Nichimanshi San Shōnen), poster, 1939, present whereabouts unknown.

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We also often see such depictions in children’s toys, e.g., sugoroku (a Japanese traditional board game).

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Is Children in the Garden another depiction of the same ideology? Three siblings are gathered in a garden. At the feet of the older brother, who is wearing a summer school uniform, is a bamboo birdcage. The sister stands to his right, the little brother in front, partly concealing the birdcage. She is wearing a Japanesestyle garment, a white apron, and geta. The pattern on that garment appears, however, to be Korean. The little brother is wearing a one-piece bib-like garment worn by Chinese toddlers. Thus, the three children appear to represent Japan, Korea and Taiwan. In this painting, however, there are no joined hands like those in the works discussed above. As the garden in its title suggests, this painting seems to be more about family than friendship. Since during this period, both Korea and Taiwan were governed by Japan, it is the older brother who stands for Japan. The birdcage is another common motif during this period. We see it in Arishima Ikuma’s Springtime for Japan-China Friendship in Jiangnan (Nichisshi shinzen Kōnan no haru), included in A Picture Album of the Holy War, and Eguchi Keishirō’s Paradise (Rakudo, Fig. 8.24), selected for a special selection in the Eastern-style Painting section of the 18th Chosun Art Exhibition (Chōsen Bijutsu Tenrankai, known as the Senten). One critic described the latter painting as follows: The special selection went to Paradise by Eguchi Keishirō from Seoul. In it we see four Chinese girls on a green hilltop where dandelions are blooming, listening to the song of the skylark in the birdcage. At first

Figure 8.24

Eguchi Keishirō, Paradise (Rakudo), 1939 (18th Chosun Art Exhibition, Easternstyle painting section, Special Selection), present whereabouts unknown.

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glance, it may not seem like paradise; but considering the current chaos in China, the title seems appropriate.62 In other words, the birdcage is a symbol of peace. Its appearance in paintings by Arishima and Eguchi convey the message that the Japanese military is bringing peace to China. In contrast, the birdcage that appears in The Children in the Garden seems to imply the massage that Japan, Korea, and Taiwan are a happy family united and bring peace to “Greater East Asia.” 8.4.3 Through “Playing” Works that show children playing include, Zhou Hung-chou’s Young Girl, Chen Ching-hui’s Little Girls at Play, Murasawa Setsuko’s Playing House and Tsai Ma-da’s Sisters playing with Butterflies, all mentioned earlier. All show one or two children. The only example with play as its theme that shows a group of three or more is Hsueh Wan-dong’s Play (Figs. 8.25 and 8.26), which won the Governor General’s Prize, the highest award, in the first Futen in 1938. It has been described as a genre painting63 resembling a Tempyō Era wall painting.64 In this work, “Three young girls wearing cheongsam are playing with embroidered bean bags in a field dotted with morning glories, bamboo, and sunflowers.”65 There are, however, two different interpretations of how they are playing. Shaih Li-fa, the first critic to reappraise this work after the war, sees the two standing girls playing catch with the colored balls, while the seated girl, who is looking up at them, watches from the side.66 Hsiao Chong-ray sees the girl (A) whose face is turned slightly toward us as juggling three colored balls, while the other standing girl (B), on the left, claps her hands in praise while singing  the nursery rhyme “The Counting Song,” and the third girl (C) is just

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「特選〈楽土〉(京城　江口敬四郎)四人の支那少女が、たんぽぽ咲く緑の丘で籠の 雲雀の鳴声に耳を傾けて居るところ。画面から直接は楽土と云つた感じは受けとり 難いものがあるかも知れないが、動乱の支那の現状を思ふとき色色考へさせられ るものが多く、楽土と云ふ題が生きてくる。」 Harada Shigeyasu, “Colors of the times at the Chosun Art Exhibition “「鮮展に表はれたる時局色」in Chōsen (Chosun) 290, July 1939, reprinted in Center for Art Studies Korea 1999, p. 579. Oteisei, “Critical reactions to the Governor General’s Exhibition, part 2: Eastern-style paintings at a glance” 「府展漫評(2)東洋画への一瞥」, reprinted in Yen 2001, p. 298. Yamaguchi Hōshun, “Eastern-style paintings in the first Taiten”「第1回台展の東洋画」, reprinted in Yen 2001, p. 306. Exh. Cat. Fukuoka 2006, p. 26. Shaih 1978, p. 189. By the way, in Chinese, a bean bag is called sha-bao (sand bag) , which differs from cai-qiu (colored ball).

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Figure 8.25 Hsueh Wan-dong, Play (Yūgi), 1938 (1st Futen, Special Selection, Governor General’s Prize), National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, Taipei.

Figure 8.26 Detail from Fig. 8.25, Play, showing the embroidered bean bag.

looking on.67 Where Shaih Li-fa and Hsiao Chong-ray differ is in whether one girl or two are playing with the bean bags. A contemporary critic noticed that, “The girl reaching for the bean bags seems unstable and about to fall over. Having the bean bags in physically impossible places disrupts the composition.”68 Like Hsiao, this critic sees one girl playing, but it is disturbed by the unnaturalness of bean bags’ placement. It does seem a bit of a stretch to see only Girl A as tossing the bean bags, and Girl B does not look as though she is clapping. The placement of the bean bags, however, does not suggest they are being tossed back and forth between the two girls. On closer inspection, we find that all three bean bags are directly above hands ready to receive them. If they fell straight down, they would land in the two girls’ hands. That is, both 67 68

Hsiao 2006, p. 16. “A,” “B,” and “C” are symbols given by the author.

「お手玉をついてゐる少女の倒れさうな不安定さ、お手玉の非物理的な所在 など型を破つてゐる」Oteisei, op. cit. (note 63), reprinted in Yen 2001, p. 298.

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the standing girls are playing with the bean bags, Girl A tossing one with one hand and Girl B two with both hands.69 Also, as Hsiao points out, although Girl B has her mouth open, so does Girl A. The two are singing, while keeping rhythm as they toss the bean bags into the air. There is a “Bean Bag Song” associated with this game. As the war began to affect even children’s songs, the songs “Nisshin Sensō” (First Sino-Japanese War) and “Nichiro Sensō” (RussoJapanese War) came to be sung while playing with bean bags as well. After the start of the Second Sino-Japanese War, there were showings of films from the Russo-Japanese War, and newspapers were filled with analyses of the reasons for Japan’s victory in the earlier war. In this midst of all this, the official statement indicating the significance of the Futen was described as “Lending support to the Kōminka movement.” It was announced that it would “Have a deeper significance than simply providing an opportunity for artists to show their work, to be a contribution to the sacred war, on the front lines of creating a foundation for the Empire’s advance to the south and establishing a base in Southeast Asian culture.”70 The honor of special selection to Play at the first Futen possibly had something to do with the colonial government’s stated policy. After the war, however, this painting was interpreted as “Having a strong local character and color.”71 This is likely because of the cheongsam that the girls are wearing. They do wear cheongsam, one in a small lily pattern, one with vertical stripes, one with large roses design. Their gorgeousness not only reveals a deliberate attempt to achieve a painterly effect; it is also a symbol of affluence. Cheongsam is called tng-sa in Taiwanese.72 Its combination of dynamic curves and still, straight lines has been praised as having an abstract beauty,73 although to Taiwanese women of the time, these lines might be regarded as being “open and vulgar,”74 while at the same time the tng-sa was a “gala dress” for very special occasions. The woman writer Yang Chian-ho recalls that she wore a tng-sa that was normally a “bother to wear” when she went out to observe a parade to 69

70 71 72 73 74

The former might be the bean bag game called otedama moshikame 「お手玉モシカメ」, the latter ryōte futatsu yuri「両手二つゆり」. For information on bean bag game variants, see Onishi 1997, p. 19 and “Otedama” (Bean bag), accessed at http://homepage3.nifty.com/ yuuyuu-sya/select/waza/otedama01.htm. Taiwan Governor General’s Office, “The significance of holding the Taiwan Art Exhibition” 「台湾美術展開催の意義」. Reprinted in Yen 2001, pp. 643–644. Shaih 1978, p. 189. Tateishi 1941. Miyata 1942. Yang 1942.

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celebrate the fall of Singapore. She thought that Japanese kimono would be more beautiful, but chose a tng-sa. “It was the handiest way to demonstrate my excitement,” she says. She was surprised to notice, however, that, “From time to time, I got disapproving looks.” Upset, she spoke to the friend at her side in her fluent Japanese. “Don’t pay attention to external appearances. I have been properly raised as a Japanese woman.” Despite the painful experience, she stubbornly wore the tng-sa.75 Wearing kimono was being promoted as part of becoming an Imperial subject; despite the disapproving looks, she wore tng-sa to express her excitement – as a Taiwanese woman – about the victory. She just wanted to be accepted as a Japanese citizen in her Taiwanese form. We may be able to say that Hsueh Wan-dong’s Play indeed expresses the same attitude. Here we see three girls in tng-sa, singing to themselves as they play excitedly with bean bags. Their dresses clearly symbolize Taiwan, but playing with bean bags does not. The bean bag game was imported into Japan and already domesticated by the Edo period and become Japanese in form. In the painting, not only are the girls playing a Japanese game, they are also singing a Japanese song, possibly one recalling the Russo-Japanese war. Moreover, the setting is a spacious garden divided by trellises on which morning glories are growing and fences. It appears to be their backyard. In this private, at-home space, we can see latent expressions of public, political ideology. Still, it has a totally different character from Terauchi Manjirō’s New Year in the Hsin-king (Shinkyō no Oshōgatsu, 1938), in which Japanese and local (Chinese) girls are playing with shuttle cocks in the new capital of Manchukuo,76 and which is deliberately designed to communicate friendship between Japan and the new country. Play is, in other words, a portrayal of the “National Language (Japanese) Family” (kokugo katei) promoted as part of the Kōminka movement following the Marco Polo Bridge incident and the outbreak of war with China.77 It is a blueprint for Taiwanese training themselves to become good Imperial subjects. Showing the Kōminka movement penetrating the most intimate interior spaces of the household made its appeal more compelling. Because the girls peacefully playing with bean bags in their family backyard is an intimate portrait of

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Yang 1942. Heibonsha 1986, p. 92. The painting is reproduced in Heibonsha 1986, fig. 69. “Promoting the numerous benefits of an outstanding national language household: Taipei Prefecture’s steps to thoroughly implement Kominka”「立派な國語家庭に種種な特典 を與ふ　臺北州の皇民化運動徹底策」, in Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō (Taiwan Daily News), 29 January, 1938, p. 7.

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private space, the political message of training to forge Taiwanese into Imperial subjects is even more powerful. 8.5 Conclusion As the discussion above indicates, Taiwan, beginning with the first Taiten, saw the appearance of paintings inspired by the then new concepts of “home” and “happy family get-together” that took families (or mothers) and children or children by themselves as their themes. Then, when war between Japan and China began, painters began to depict children as “little citizens”; a growing number of works were colored by the emerging political situation. In a reversion to “premodern” imagery, working children were presented as small adults, their efforts easy to connect with the slogan “contribute through labor.” These paintings clearly strove to arouse martial spirit. In contrast, works showing children singing or playing might seem at first glance more consistent with modern ideas of childhood (so long, that is, as we ignore such direct evidence as the national uniforms in Singing Children). Until now, we have been content to see these paintings as portrayals of intimate private moments. As this chapter has demonstrated, it is not easy to read the political messages incorporated in these paintings in response to Japan’s going to war and the colonial government’s Kōminka policy. In the cases where national uniforms appear, e.g., in Boy Teasing Turkeys, it is simple to interpret it as merely a child playing with turkeys, with the uniform no more than a reflection of the wartime context. In the case of Singing Children, we have the painter’s own words to tell us that the children are singing military songs, so it is obvious that this is related to the war; nevertheless, there are many commentaries which make only the slightest suggestion of “hints of a relationship to wartime.”78 According to painter and critic Wang Hsiu-hsiung, the first generation of Taiwanese painters whose work was fostered by the Taiten, especially painters in the Eastern style became involved in a dispute over what “national painting” was with Chinese ink artists who moved to Taiwan from the Mainland after the end of the war, and as the first generation’s influence diminished, Taiwan’s art history was strongly affected by politics to an extent rarely seen elsewhere.79 Nonetheless, there is a tendency among Taiwanese scholars to believe that these wartime artworks were only artist’s representations of the lifestyles of 78 79

Artist Publishing 1993, p. 24. Wang 1995, p. 42.

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the times. Children in the Garden, Play, and even Singing Children have all been analyzed from that nonpolitical perspective. However, even if such works do depict scenes from real life, the painters’ choice of themes also reflects other intentions. Particularly in time of war, an artist’s choice of subject matter is especially important. Many elements certainly went into those choices besides aesthetic considerations alone. As the investigations discussed in this chapter have revealed, it is highly probable that many wartime works such as Singing Children were responsible for fostering a fighting mood, whether that be spontaneous or coerced. As we can see in Children in the Garden and Play, political messages were included in depictions of what might seem to be supremely private moments, as this chapter has explained. We of later generations should not depend on first impressions grounded in current values or idealized images of artists. We should, instead, approach their works with open minds and base our interpretations of them on contemporary news reports, the artists’ own words, and other documentation. This author makes no claim to infallibility, but I do want to insist on interpretation grounded in historical materials. Numerous examples of paintings intended to foster warlike spirit were also produced in Japan, the colonial metropole. We have not as yet considered how those paintings differ from those produced in the colony, Taiwan. If we restrict ourselves to paintings in which children are the primary motif, we find no paintings from Japan that resemble either Play or Singing Children. Works produced in Taiwan, especially those produced by Taiwanese artists, include kimono, school uniforms, and the rising sun symbol also found in works produced in Japan. They also include, however, highly visible examples of Taiwanese clothing, Taiwanese straw hats, and other elements that serve as codes identifying the setting as Taiwan. Many Japanese works of the period, by contrast, use only the rising sun motif. In Kitagawa Tamiji’s Lead Soldiers or Girl on the Home Front (Namari no heitai or Jūgo no Shōjo), for example, the little girl wears Western-style clothes and carries a Western-style doll on her back. She is alone, and her face is expressionless as she plays war games with the lead soldiers.80 The toy soldiers are small and details of their uniforms are hard to make out; among them the rising sun flag stands out. “The Japanese soldier carrying a sword, the tanks and the cannon, attack without mercy the fleeing Chinese soldiers.”81 The Westernstyle doll on the girl’s back evokes the typical “blue-eyed doll,” who hints at the

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This painting is reproduced in Haryū 2007, p. 16, fig. 10. Haryū 2007, p. 201.

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mighty presence of America looming from behind. The painting seems to prophesy the increasing isolation of Japan.82 The girl’s expressionless face shows no joy at the Japanese army’s victories. This may, however, simply be her finding uninteresting the playing at war that boys find so exciting. In contrast, bean bag tossing is so typically a girl’s play. This is elegantly summed up in the group scene in Play. As can be seen in the previously mentioned words of Yang Chian-ho, “friendship eases the friction between ethnic groups, and pulls me up from a despised ethnic group,”83 within the girls wearing Taiwanese tng-sa dresses while speaking Japanese and playing a Japanese game in a private scene, it seems that there is hidden a strongly ideological message which indicates the existence of numerous Taiwanese hoping for to become Japanese.84 82 Haryū 2007, p. 201. 83 Yang 1942. 84 The Kōminka drive has been discussed thus far only with respect to literature in Taiwan, but it may be a key point in art as well, in distinguishing Japanese and Taiwanese works. Further research is needed.

Chapter 9

Images of the Family in 1950s Korea: The Family as a Metaphor for Repose* Kim Yisoon 9.1 Introduction In Korea, the family became a major theme in art in the 1950s. In earlier works, family members had been included in paintings, but usually only because they were serving as artists’ models. There were hardly any family portraits or paintings illustrating family relationships. This essay examines the background against which family became a major motif in art produced in Korea in the 1950s and what artists were trying to reveal about the families they portrayed.1 During the Joseon period (1392–1897) when Korea was a kingdom, filial piety toward the parents was the highest of virtues. Blood ties and family were emphasized, and many portraits of high-ranking family members were produced for worship at family shrines. Nonetheless, group portraits of families or paintings with the family as a motif were virtually nonexistent. The outbreak of the Korean War (1950–1953) was arguably the historical context in which, in the 1950s, artists frequently began to produce images of families. This trend in Korean art was closely connected to the war, in which many families suffered bitterly as members were killed or lost in the war, their whereabouts unknown, and then many families were divided by the separation of North and South Korea. The importance of family was keenly felt. When neither the nation as a whole nor neighbors could be depended on, the family was the only source of repose. The family home was a refuge from pain and suffering. Artists who chose to produce images of families included Lee Joong-seop (1916–1956), Chang Ucchin (1917–1990), and Park Soo-keun (1914–1965), all of whom had experienced separation from family and the loss of children during the war. Lee Joong-seop, in particular, was separated from his family during * Translation from Japanese into English: Ruth S. McCreery. 1 All works that portray families can be called “family portraits.” In this essay, however, the focus is works in which the emphasis is on family relationships rather than portraits of specific individuals. This is the sense in which I will use the phrase “images of family” or “family images” instead.

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the war and never reunited with them after the armistice. His family images stress the importance of father, mother, and child as constituent members of the family and the individual, physical form of the family. They were, in this respect, quite different from traditional portraits intended to preserve the family line. They were also not painted to commemorate family events such as births, weddings, an elder’s reaching the age of sixty, or funerals, all motifs found in family photographs in modern Korea or in family portraits in the West. In the 1950s, family was an important theme in literature as well as art. Literary works repeatedly described families lost during the war, families broken and scattered, and families having difficulty leading normal family lives.2 There was an explosion of literary works that were based on the experience of loss during the war, especially the complete destruction of families, to protest against the inhumanity of war. In contrast, works of art did not portray stories of family breakup. In this respect they were not examples of realism. It is deeply interesting that, instead, they depicted intact families, fathers, mothers, and children united in happy families. In this essay, I attempt to clarify the difference between images of the family from before the 1950s, i.e., before the Korean War, and those produced during the 1950s by examining the works of Chang Ucchin, Lee Joong-seop and Park Soo-keun. My objective is, via these family images, to analyze postwar familism in Korea. Since my aim is to understand a form of social consciousness, I discuss images constructed within a parent–child framework instead of portraits of particular individuals. I also include works in which “family” and “return” are themes, so far as they evoke associations with family even though only some family members are present. 9.2

Family Images before the Korean War

As the modern era began, artists began to be interested in subjects close to home. As figure painting became popular, a growing number of artists painted members of their own families, i.e., their wives or children. In Korea, where models were hard to come by, it is difficult to read any particular attitudes toward family in these works. Family (1931–1935, Fig.  9.1), a painting by Bae Woon-sung (1900–1978), may be an exception.

2 The family is the theme of many postwar novels and plays. There is lively debate about postwar family attitudes among researchers who specialize in Korean literature. The following are a few prominent examples. Kwon 2001; Kwon 2002; Kim 1998; Han 1987.

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In Family, the artist portrays a three-generation family, a large family with seventeen members. They are wearing chogori jackets and are grouped on the ceremonial porch and in the front garden of their home. The way in which individuals are lined up may recall modern family photographs. This work, however, was not painted from a single group photograph of a family but instead was based on separate photographs of the individuals portrayed. The family in question could be either the one with whom the artist lived as a student3 or his own family.4 Whichever is the case, this image is a good representation of how families were perceived before the Korean War. First, we should note how, in much the same manner as family photographs contemporary with it, this image stresses the hierarchical character of family relationships. The elderly woman, seating erectly, her granddaughter in her lap, and the middle-aged couple standing behind her are the key figures in the household. The remaining brothers, sisters and children are arrayed around them, allowing everyone portrayed to be seen as members of one big family. The adults, of course, but also the children stand erect, in static poses, avoiding physical contact. Their faces are frozen in fixed expressions. Neither love nor intimacy is displayed. The boy on the right who is tying the cord at the hem of

Figure 9.1 Bae Woon-sung, Family, ca. 1935, oil on canvas, 140 × 200 cm, private collection. 3 Lee 2001, p. 12. 4 Kim 2003, pp. 46–52.

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his full trousers adds a little variety to the composition, but he too is not interacting with the others. Beside him we see a younger boy facing towards the rear; he is holding the hand of a woman who may be his mother. She, however, looks straight at us, not at the boy. This painting includes not a trace of emotional connection between the characters. Note, however, that this woman is holding a teacup (Fig. 9.2). She, we infer, is the daughter-in-law of the woman in the center and appears to be offering tea to her mother-in-law. This could be an expression of the filial respect owed to parents. In other words, the strict grandparents-parents-children ordering of Bae’s Family reflects both a traditional family consciousness that stresses the importance of blood ties and Joseon period family ideology with its stress on the virtue of filial piety. Another distinctive feature of Bae’s Family is that the interior of the house fills the entire background. Through the two windows in the back we can glimpse a fence and a platform for crocks of sauces and condiments.5 Here we can see the artist’s strong interest in the house, the space occupied by the family. Thus, while this painting embodies the homesickness of the artist, who was living abroad when he painted it, it also reflects the traditional Korean perception that house and family are one. We see this same distinctive feature when we turn to examine the works discussed below. Family (1950, Fig. 9.3), by Im Goon-hong (1912–1979) is another family image from before the Korean War. In this case, we know that the artist was painting his own family. Here we see a table covered with all sorts of pottery, his wife holding the baby, and his daughter staring into space.6 In contrast to Bae

Figure 9.2 Detail of Fig. 9.1. 5 The landscape viewed through the windows is painted without perspective. The two landscapes glimpsed through the windows are not connected. They appear to be imagined scenes from Bae’s hometown. 6 The artist was working on this painting of his wife and two children in June, 1950, just before the outbreak of the Korean War. The painting remained uncompleted, and the artist moved to the North during the war. The title Family was applied to it later.

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Figure 9.3 Im Goon-hong, Family, 1950, oil on canvas, 94 × 126 cm, private collection.

Woon-sung’s Family, here we have a nuclear family consisting of parents and children. In it we catch a glimpse of how the family system was changing, especially in cities, following Korea’s liberation from Japan. The mother has changed from a daughter-in-law offering tea to her mother-in-law to a mother holding her baby to her breast. The filial daughter-in-law is transformed into the caring mother. At the same time she is also a “good wife.” Both she and her children are models for the artist husband. There is no indication of hierarchy based on blood ties. But the girl who appears to be the artist’s daughter is staring at something outside the picture frame. Her mother appears to be quietly immersed in thoughts of their own. Between the two of them, we see no family love or intimacy. The difference between family images before and after the Korean War is thus more a question of whether the artist stresses intimacy between family members than whether the family portrayed is a nuclear or extended family. Bae Woon-sung’s Family portrays family history but does not emphasize  family love. In Im Goon-hong’s Family, the treatment of the wife and daughter is no different from that of the objects arrayed on the table; they seem only to be the artist’s models. In neither of these works do we find the expression of family ties and intimacy found in family images produced in the 1950s. 9.3

Family Images after the Korean War

The Korean War experience strengthened familism to an extraordinary degree and dramatically transformed the attitudes that bind family members

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together as a group. In the 1950s Korean society experienced the extreme conditions of war, under which familism spread as solidarity among members of the immediate family became more important for survival than the larger frameworks of family status or blood ties.7 In works of art, “family” came to be expressed through personal relationships between family members instead of family history or genealogy that stressed kinship through blood ties. A strong attachment to the mother is another distinctive feature of postKorean War family images. Fathers had died during the war or lost the ability to contribute economically in the chaos following the war, leaving mothers to play the central roles in families. According to sociologist Jo Hea-jeong, when survival itself is at stake, the social position of the father as the family’s representative to the outside world and his economic assets lose their former meaning. The patriarchal authority of an economically powerless father is revealed as an illusion.8 As a result, in postwar literature and art, patriarchal authority is replaced at the core of family life by family and local community, and the presence of the mother who quietly supports them grows stronger. We will now explore this transformation in postwar family consciousness in the works of Chang Ucchin, Lee Joong-seop and Park Soo-keun. 9.3.1 Chang Ucchin Chang Ucchin graduated from the Imperial Art School of Japan in 1943. He began to paint family images during the 1950s and continued to address family as a theme in several works thereafter. In these paintings, the individuals might be staring at a camera; they look directly at the person viewing the painting rather than engaging in any activity.9 In most, the individuals are portrayed in a setting that is clearly a house, thus testifying to their being members of a family. They exist in an enclosed space, cut off from the outside world, that 7 Jo 1985. According to Jo, familism is a core element in Korean culture. Family values are often described as changing or emerging in respect to changing social and economic conditions. It was, however, the extreme strengthening of familism due to the Korean War experience that fundamental values rooted in the immediate family have remained unshaken by Korea’s rapid transformation into a modern industrial society. 8 Jo 1985, p. 87. 9 Chang Ucchin’s family images have been interpreted as family portraits in which the artist himself and his wife both appear (Lee 2000). Since, however, it is often difficult to distinguish individuals due to the extreme simplification of Chang Ucchin’s style, I prefer to use the more inclusive “family image,” instead of “family portrait.” Chang’s family images include both adults and children but only hint that they are members of the same family. We also know that Chang Ucchin had, in fact, six children; but only one or two appear in his family images, which cannot, thus, be considered family portraits.

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Figure 9.4 Chang Ucchin, Village, 1951, oil on paper, 26 × 36 cm, private collection.

confirms our perception that what we are seeing is a family and expresses a family-centric mindset. From among Chang Ucchin’s family images, I would like to consider, first, his Village (Fig. 9.4), which dates from 1951. Here, as the title suggests, what we see is a village instead of a family per se. The artist shows, however, only three houses, not an actual village as a shared space in which the villagers live. By depicting family members inside each house, the artist stresses the importance of family. Strangely, however, in each of those households, the household head (i.e., the father) is absent. The mothers and children look outside, as if waiting for someone. Given that this painting was produced in 1951, the year that the Korean War began, it is easy to imagine that these are families waiting for the return of fathers or sons who have gone off to war. The image can be interpreted as expressing the hope that dismembered families will be restored. It is, in other words, a painting that expresses sentiments then universal in Korea, a society at war. The figure sprawled on the oval meadow in the middle of the frame has an idyllic quality, suggesting an ideal community that the artist kept alive in his heart, despite the painfulness of the actual conditions in which he lived. Chang Ucchin’s ideal community is more concretely portrayed in his 1954 Family (Fig. 9.5). In contrast to Village, the work discussed above, this childlike

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Figure 9.5 Chang Ucchin, Family, 1954, oil on canvas, 32 × 31.5 cm, Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art, Seoul.

painting shows a three-person family, father, mother, and child, living with domesticated animals including a cow, pigs, and a dog. Since Chang Ucchin’s family was living in Seoul at the time this work was painted, we know that this painting does not represent reality, but instead is the image of the ideal family longed for by the artist. In other words, a family divided by the war is reunited in its hometown, in an expression of the desire for a peaceful life that was almost universal in postwar Korea. In subsequent works by Chang Ucchin, scenes of family life in a family reassembled in its hometown disappear. As though paralleling the 1951 Village, however, the 1957 Village painted in 1957 (Fig. 9.6) again shows the household head alone in an idyllic scene in the center. The title is Village, but again what we see is not the whole village. Instead our attention is focused on a single family and specifically the mustached figure in the garden in the center. This mustached figure holding a cane is Chang Ucchin himself,10 who, while household head, is removed from the center of the family. He is enclosed in a green oval, a space that he shares with the cow, a dog, and a tree. He appears to be living at one with nature rather than as one of the family. The absolute separation of the household head’s space from that of the rest of the family could also be seen as a reflection of patriarchal authority.11 The absent-minded way in which he just stands there, as if having nothing to do, suggests, however, a lack of interest in the traditional role of the household head. While he shares the same 10 11

Chang Ucchin himself has written that he is the figure with the mustache. Lee Ha-rim says that, “Chang Ucchin, standing in the meadow beside the cow, is the father, the adult in the family composed of three children and their mother, four individuals

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Figure 9.6 Chang Ucchin, Village, 1957, oil on canvas, 40.5 × 27.5 cm, private collection.

space with the cow, he is not depicted as doing any form of outdoor work. His positioning may suggest, instead, the artist’s own desire for a pastoral life. Seen in this way, the painting as a whole could be said to depict a single, intact family composed of father, mother, and children, even though the father occupies a separate space. In the 1970s, Chang Ucchin was still producing family images in which he returned to the family consciousness of the postwar years. In his 1972 Family (Fig. 9.7), for example, we see what seems to be a detail from the 1957 Village. In this painting, however, the household head/father who was separated from the family in 1957, is back in the center of the family. A large window opened in the side of the simple, boxlike house, allows those who view this work to focus on the family inside. In front we see the mother dressed in white and two children, with a figure dressed in brown, who seems to be the household head/ father, standing behind them. Then, in his 1978 Family (Fig. 9.8), the number of

who are all treated as children. Yes, he just stands there holding his stick, appearing to do nothing, but the radii of the family’s and household’s lives are clearly separated. The father retains his patriarchal authority” (Lee 2000, p. 233).

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Figure 9.7 Chang Ucchin, Family, 1972, oil on canvas, 7.5 × 14.8 cm, private collection.

Figure 9.8 Chang Ucchin, Family, 1978, oil on canvas, 17 × 13.5 cm, private collection.

people in the family is smaller than in the 1972 Family, but the work clearly depicts the father, mother, child composition of the family unit. As seen above, Chang Ucchin’s family images show us a single family composed of father, mother, and children. There is none of the hierarchy based on degrees of blood relationships found in Bae Woon-sung’s Family, and the father no longer has a central role to play. Here we see an expression of the fact that patriarchal authority was no longer being maintained in post-Korean War

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society. It also reveals the low social status of a household head who was a painter. The household head freed from patriarchal authority who appears in Chang Ucchin’s paintings, is no longer the traditional patriarch. He retains, however, an important role as an indispensable member of the “complete family” made up of father, mother and child. Traditionally, the building and the space called the house clearly defined the boundaries of the family.12 To Chang Ucchin, the house fenced off the family from the outside world. While expressing his love for family, it also functioned to protect the family from what was going on outside it. Chang Ucchin’s family images are not autobiographical. They are, instead, rich expressions of the emotional comfort derived from families being able to bond together to overcome real adversity. In addition, while Chang was the father of six children, his paintings only included one or two children in addition to the husband and wife. What he was painting was the idealized model family that his times demanded. 9.3.2 Lee Joong-seop Lee Joong-seop is an artist who expressed his love of family in a most direct way. Born into a single-parent, mother-child family, he grew up from his earliest days in an exceptional family environment. He married a Japanese woman, a classmate at Bunka Gakuin in Japan, where he studied art, but his wife and two sons returned to Japan during the Korean War. The family was not reunited after the war, leaving him with only profoundly emotional memories of family life. The family images of Lee Joong-seop, who was separated from his family, are strongly autobiographical. He was not alone, however, in producing work that reflected similar life experiences. Other artists who experienced the Korean War include those who, like Han Mook (born 1914) and Choi Yung-rim (1916–1985) left their families behind when they fled south, and then, during the 1950s, produced works with titles like Family, Mother and Child, A Mother’s Feelings, and Hometown. In 1954, Han Mook, for example, produced Mother and Child (Fig. 9.9), using brusque, Expressionist brushwork to depict a mother and infant, followed in 1957 by Family (Fig. 9.10), a work influenced by Cubism. In a recent interview, Han Mook said, “I found myself wanting repeatedly to address the family as my theme,”13 from which we can appreciate the attachment that artists had to the family theme after the war ended. Choi Yung-rim, for example, also produced a Cubist Family (Fig. 9.11). In contrast to Choi and other artists, however, Lee Joong-seop had not only lost his family and home 12 13

Lee 1990, p. 362. Interview 2004.

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Figure 9.9 Han Mook, Mother and Child, 1954, oil on canvas, 53 × 36 cm, author’s collection.

Figure 9.10 H  an Mook, Family, 1957, oil on canvas, 99 × 71 cm, Hongik University Museum, Seoul.

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Figure 9.11 Choi Yung-rim, Family, 1961, oil on canvas, 60.5 × 39 cm, private collection.

during the war but was unable to regain them after the war ended. His feelings of despair and anxiety made family an even more obsessed theme for him. Lee Joong-seop painted several family images during his years of separation from his family. Of these, River of No Return (Fig. 9.12), which dates from 1956, the year of his death, depicts a boy waiting by a window for his mother to come home, directly expressing his sadness at being separated from his family. Most of his images of families from the 1950s, however, are peaceful and harmonious.14 Family 1 (Fig. 9.13), Family 3 (Fig. 9.14), Dancing Family 1 (Fig. 9.15), and Dancing Family 3 (Fig. 9.16), portray families composed of four members, the artist, his wife, and their two sons. The figures form circles and squares, their hands joined as they dance happily together. The composition in these works is totally different from that in the works of Bae Woon-sung and Chang Ucchin, in which the figures stare straight out at us from the canvas. The works of Lee Joong-seop portray the family as a unity from which no one is missing and in 14

The dating of this work is unclear, but it probably dates from after the outbreak of the Korean War. Almost all known works by Lee Joong-seop date from after 1950, when he moved south, fleeing the war, and left all his work in the North. He is said to have brought only one incomplete landscape painting with him when he left. Im 1990, p. 141.

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Figure 9.12 L ee Joong-seop, River of No Return, 1956, pencil and oil on canvas, 20.2 × 16.4 cm, private collection.

Figure 9.13 L ee Joong-seop, Family 1, 1953–1954, oil on paper, 41.6 × 28.9 cm, private collection.

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Figure 9.14 L ee Joong-seop, Family 3, 1950–1955, oil on paper, 36.5 × 26.5 cm, Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art, Seoul.

Figure 9.15 L ee Joong-seop, Dancing Family 1, 1953–1954, oil and enamel on canvas, 41.3 × 28.9 cm, private collection.

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Figure 9.16 L ee Joong-seop, Dancing Family 3, 1950–1955, oil on paper, 22.7 × 30.4 cm, private collection.

Figure 9.17 Lee Joong-seop, Family Starting on a Trip 1, 1954, oil on paper, 19.5 × 64.5 cm, private collection.

which there is no space for others to enter but the family. These family images portray not only strong bonds between family members but also an exclusivity that keeps others at a distance. The artist’s hunger for a happy family life is expressed more concretely in Family Starting on a Trip (1954, Fig. 9.17). Lee Joong-seop sent a postcard with a similar design to his family (Fig. 9.18). Here the father is leading the ox that is pulling the cart on which the family is riding. He is tossing his head happily as he leads the cart. The mother and two children riding on the cart are waving flowers, and doves are flying: this trip is filled with joy. The family on the cart can be read as refugees in flight during the Korean War.15 But their baggage consists entirely of flowers, and flowers 15

Oh Kwang-soo’s analysis is that “The trip is flight to the South; the man leading his family there is Lee Joong-Seop himself; he carries the heavy responsibly of caring for his entire family” (Oh 2000, p. 59).

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Figure 9.18 Lee Joong-seop, Family Starting on a Trip 2, 1954, watercolor on paper (postcard), 10.5 × 25.7 cm, private collection.

are scattered on the back of the ox as well as on the wagon. More than an illustration of a painful reality, refugees fleeing, this image seems an embodiment of a wish for a joy-filled trip to an idealized home. On the postcard, the artist wrote: Today, Papa painted.... Mama, Yasunari, and Yasukata riding on the oxcart .... Papa is in front, leading the ox.... Together we are headed south, where it is warm.16 For Lee Joong-seop, who, even though the Korean War was over, could not be reunited with his family, these words are filled with his desire to fulfill his role as a father once again. In Family Starting on a Trip, we see, in contrast to the head of the family working hard for his family and the family whose happiness depends on his efforts, a projection of the yearning to be recognized by his family as 16

「パパがきょう・・・まま、やすなりくん、やすかたくんがうしくるまにのって・・・パパは まえのほうでうしくんをひっぱって・・・あたたかいみなみのほうへいっしょにいくえ をかきました。」.

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Figure 9.19 L ee Joong-seop, K’s Family, 1955, lead pencil and oil on paper, 32 × 49.5 cm, private collection.

performing his role as family head by a father who is in fact unable to support his family. This work embodies the ideal family image of household heads in postwar society. This same family consciousness appears in Lee Joong-seop’s K’s Family (Fig. 9.19), which is known to depict the family of his friend Goo Sang (1919–2004). Goo Sang is in the front, playing his proper central role in the family, while also being presented as a kindly father taking care of his sons. The mother and daughter standing in the rear look on with happy expressions. This is the harmonious family for which Lee Joong-seop so longed. To Lee Joong-seop, who had lost everything in the war, family was more than a place to find repose; it was an essential lifeline. “The days on which I receive your letters are days on which my painting is much, much more productive,” he wrote in a letter to his wife in Japan.17 In Lee Joong-seop Painting His Family (Fig. 9.20), he has filled the space around letters to his family with images overflowing with joy. Also in this work, all of his family gather in the form of a flower. This kind of family circle can be seen in many of his works, clear evidence that to Lee Joong-seop the repose that such a family offered was his one and only desire (Fig. 9.21). The place called “home” that appears so prominently in the works of Bae Woon-sung and Chang Ucchin appears nowhere in Lee Joong-seop’s family images. Instead, by focusing on the intimacy of family members, his works focus the attention of those who see them on the family itself. They emphasize family unity that can overcome any obstacle. These works, however, express an unrealistic, ideal world and remind us of the situation of the artist who, in real life, was never able to return to his family. To realize the image of a harmonious family unit that he himself imagined, Lee Joong-seop placed his groups of figures in coherent rectangles and circles and excluded all other realistic elements. He created a paradise lacking in reality because, unable to 17

Quoted in Oh 2000, p. 38.

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Figure 9.20 L ee Joong-seop, Lee Joong-seop Painting His Family, 1955, pencil and colored pencil on paper, private collection.

Figure 9.21 Postcard Lee Joong-seop sent to his family, private collection.

reunite his divided family, he could only paint his fantasy of their coming together again. While these harmonious family images embody Lee Joongseop’s personal passion, they also embody the wishes of postwar Korean society.

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9.3.3 Park Soo-keun Park Soo-keun’s love for his family was no less deep than Lee Joong-seop’s. Separated from his family during the Korean War, until he was able to meet them again two years later, he did not even know if they were alive or dead. Worse, during this period of chaos, he lost his third son. The experience of war was all devastating, which it is thought, to have led him to express his powerful love for his family. Nonetheless, Park Soo-keun’s works include none entitled Family and he never produced a work showing an intact family composed of a father, mother, and children. It thus may be overreaching to classify his paintings as family images. They include, however, not a few works such as House and Return, in which the postwar family consciousness can be seen. Park Soo-keun showed House (Fig. 9.22) at the second Korean National Fine Arts Exhibition,18 which was held just after the Korean War ended. To him, home meant much more than a roof over his head. He said that, “I wonder why, when I see the roof of my house when I return from a trip, I feel such love inside.”19 To Park Soo-keun, a house is not just a building; he treats it as arousing thoughts about his family. Works like these, in which house and family are equated, are relatively rare among family portraits produced in the West or in Japan.20 In the case of Korea, not only in the works of Park Soo-keun but also in those of Bae Woonsung and Chang Ucchin mentioned above, there is no distinction between house and family. That may express something unique about Korean family feeling. Choi Yung-rim, who fled to the South during the Korean War, painted House in My Old Hometown (Fig. 9.23) in 1952, while thinking about the family

Figure 9.22 P ark Soo-keun, House, 1953, oil on canvas, 80.3 × 100 cm, private collection. 18 19 20

대한민국미술전람회. Kim 1995. See Exh. Cat. Sendai 1995; Exh. Cat. Iwaki 1999.

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Figure 9.23 Choi Yung-rim, House in My Old Hometown, 1952, oil on paper, 28.8 × 41.2 cm, private collection.

he had left behind. As a Korean painter he was able to draw on the Korean tradition according to which a house is not just a structure but also includes the family who live in it. A house is more than a physical location where family ties are formed; it is, at the same time, a place where the family’s members feel psychologically at ease.21 Park Soo-keun’s corpus of works entitled Return present the house to suggest the family, which is not directly depicted in them. In, for example, his Return from the 1950s (Fig. 9.24) and Return (Fig. 9.25) and The Way (Fig. 9.26) from the 1960s, he paints houses or villages from a distance, with a woman with a basket on her head walking toward them. In these pictures, mothers, having finished their day’s work, are returning home, having taken the place of the father’s for whom the war destroyed their ability to contribute to the family economy. In these images, “mothers returning home” evokes “mothers who sacrifice for their families” and “families waiting at home for their mothers.” It follows, then, that the houses and villages seen in the “Return” paintings are not simply elements in the landscape. They are places to which mothers return, places in which there are families. To the family members who wait at home, 21

For this aspect, see Choi 1964, pp. 142–144.

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Figure 9.24 P ark Soo-keun, Return, 1953, oil on paper, 26 × 34 cm, private collection.

Figure 9.25 P ark Soo-keun, Return, 1960, oil on hardboard, 24 × 17 cm, private collection.

mother’s return makes the family whole, only then a place where repose is possible. We should take note of how Park Soo-keun portrayed mothers in his post-Korean-War paintings. The postwar mother was no longer only the household head’s lieutenant. She took the place of the absent father. In the postwar years when normal economic activities were impossible throughout the whole of Korea, mothers went into business, setting up stalls in the markets, to take the place of fathers rendered powerless by the loss of their jobs. These women also had to push their children to achieve success and work to restore family unity. Mother replaced father as the de facto household head

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Figure 9.26 P ark Soo-keun, The Way, 1964, oil on hardboard, 31 × 18 cm, private collection.

and played a vital role in recovering from the war-inflicted losses and family separations. Home was a place of refuge and repose for those who were wounded or had suffered in the war, but mother was now in the center of the family. Thus, in the works of Park Soo-keun, the house, family, and mother form an inseparable trinity, with the same significance as a hometown or place of repose. Mothers are treated similarly in postwar literature. Mother is the center of the family. Mother silently preserves both home and community. Hometowns are liked to “mothers’ breasts.” In postwar literature, mother, family, house, hometown, and repose are emotionally inseparable. The sculpture of the 1950s also includes family images. Examples include Family by Yun Hyo-jung (1917–1967)22 and Family (Fig. 9.27) by Song Yung-soo (1930–1970). Here, too, these family images created in the 1950s are not the idiosyncratic products of individual sculptors. They transcend the role of personal chronicles by individual artists to express and interpret the way in which family was conceived at the time they were made. Even now, the works of Chang 22

This artwork is reproduced in Gonggan 1967, p. 94.

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Figure 9.27 S ong Yung-soo, Family, 1954, plaster (later cast in bronze), 125 × 65 × 40 cm, his heirs’ collection.

Figure 9.28 M  in Bok-jin, Family, 1988, bronze, 50 × 52.5 × 28 cm, private collection.

Ucchin, Lee Joong-seop, and Park Soo-keun remain popular, and the works of such contemporary sculptors as Min Bok-jin (born 1927) and Jon Rye-jin (born 1929), who frequently take the family as their subject (Figs. 9.28 and 9.29), are also popular favorites. The favorable reception of their work is not unrelated to the lasting effects of the Korean War on Korean society.

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Figure 9.29 Jon Rye-jin, Family, 1988, marble, 31 × 48 × 20 cm, private collection.

9.4 Conclusion Reconstruction has overcome the material losses of the war. But the desolation of local communities and families divided by war have left deeply rooted feelings of loss that are not easy to overcome. Lee Joong-seop is an extreme example, but he was never able to find the strength to reunite his family. Having lost all hope of seeing his family again, he found it difficult to sustain everyday life. Unable to carry on within society, he ended his life in lonely isolation. As we have seen, however, the family images created after the war do not directly express either the experience of war or family division. In the works of Chang Ucchin, the household head’s role is weakened, but the house as a space shared by parents and children who form “a complete family” is emphasized. In the works of Lee Joong-seop, instead of the house as place, we have an expression of the intimacy shared by a four-person family, bound together by close family ties. In the works of Park Soo-keun, the house is a space where an intimate circle of insiders, the family members, gather; family becomes a place of refuge from external realities. The family images found in visual art are dramatically different from the emptiness and tragic family divisions found in literature from the same period. That difference may be due, first, to the attributes of visual art. That is to say that visual art, unlike literature, presents the image directly; a feeling of wanting to avoid retelling tragic, painful stories, because that would mean witnessing them again, may have been operating. A more fundamental reason, however, is that the visual arts reflect society’s hopes that divided families will be reunited. Their role is to present the family as a refuge and place of repose, where a lost self can again be restored to wholeness. It is through images of families restored, rather than divided families, that the visual arts seek to effect the reunification of scattered families.

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It may be worth noting that the artists who repeatedly returned to the family image following the Korean War are all men. Postwar fathers had been brought up in patriarchal families shaped by Confucian traditions. They were strongly conscious that father should be the center of the family, that fathers were responsible for leading their families. Reality decreed, however, that they would be unable to play these roles. Lee Joong-seop, Park Soo-keun, and Chang Ucchin: all experienced being stuck between a traditional consciousness of what a household head should be and the realities of their times. Family took on a special meaning for them. They wanted to achieve wholeness in their images of the family as a wholeness of the father in Lee Joong-seop’s Family Setting Out on a Trip, therefore it may have made artists to be obsessed with a theme of the experience of family.

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Cat. Madrid 1994: Die Sammlungen des Prado: Malerei von 12.-18. Jahrhundert, José Rogelio Buendía et al., Madrid and Cologne, 1994. Cat Frankfurt am Main 1996: Frankfurt im Spätmittelalter. Kirche, Stifter, Frömmigkeit, Kurt Wettengl et al., Historisches Museum, Frankfurt am Main, 1996. Cat. Kassel 1996: Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister: gesamtkatalog, 2 vols., Bernhard Schnackenburg, Kassel and Mainz, 1996. Cat. Vienna 1997: Die Gemäldegalerie der Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien: die Sammlung im Überblick, Renate Trnek, Vienna, 1997. Cat. Amsterdam 2000: Netherlandish art in the Rijksmuseum 1400–1600, Henk van Os et al., Amsterdam, 2000. Cat. Amsterdam 2001: Netherlandish art in the Rijksmuseum 1600–1700, Jan Piet Filedt Kok et al., Amsterdam, 2001. Cat. Munich 2002: Flämische Malerei des Barock in der Alten Pinakothek, Konrad Renger and Claudia Denk, Munich and Cologne, 2002. Cat. The Hague 2004: Royal Picture Gallery Mauritshuis: a summary catalogue, Quentin Buvelot (ed.), The Hague, 2004. Cat. Budapest 2005: Seventeenth century Dutch and Flemish drawings in the Budapest Museum of Fine Arts: a complete catalogue, Teréz Gerszi, Budapest, 2005. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a: Deutsche Gemälde im Städel 1500–1550, Bodo Brinkmann and Stephan Kemperdick, Petersburg and Frankfurt am Main, 2005. Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005b: Holländische Gemälde im Städel 1550–1800, vol. 2, Künstler geboren 1615 bis 1630, León Krempel, Petersburg and Frankfurt am Main, 2005. Cat. Munich 2006: Alte Pinakothek: holländische und deutsche Malerei des 17. Jahrhunderts, Marcus Dekiert, Munich and Ostfildern, 2006. Cat. New York 2007: Dutch paintings in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Walter Liedtke, New York, New Haven and London, 2007.

Exhibition Catalogs Exh. Cat. Taipei 1929: Dainikai Taiwan bijutsu tenrankai zuroku (Catalog of the 2nd Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition), Gakuso Zaidan Foundation, Taipei, 1929 (『第二回台 湾美術展覧会図録』 財団法人学租財団, 台北, 1929). Exh. Cat. Taipei 1935: Daihachikai Taiwan bijutsu tenrankai zuroku (Catalog of the 8th Taiwan Fine Arts exhibition), Gakuso Zaidan Foundation, Taipei, 1935 (『第八回台 湾美術展覧会図録』 財団法人学租財団, 台北, 1935). Exh. Cat. Taipei 1939: Daiikkai futen zuroku (Catalog of the 1st Governor General’s Art Exhibition), Taiwan sōtokufu (Office of the Governor General of Taiwan), Taipei, 1939 (『第一回府展図録』 台湾総督府, 台北, 1939). Exh. Cat. Tokyo 1939: Seisen bijutsu (Sacred War Art), Rikugun bijuts kyōkai (Art Association of the Army), Tokyo, 1939 (『聖戦美術』 陸軍美術協会, 東京, 1939).

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Exh. Cat. Taipei 1942: Daiyonkai futen zuroku (Catalog of the 4th Governor General’s Art Exhibition), Taiwan sōtokufu (Office of the Governor General of Taiwan), Taipei, 1942 (『第四回府展図録』 台湾総督府, 台北, 1942). Exh. Cat. Taipei 1943: Daigokai futen zuroku (Catalog of the 5th Governor General’s Art Exhibition), Taiwan sōtokufu (Office of the Governor General of Taiwan), Taipei, 1943 (『第五回府展図録』 台湾総督府, 台北, 1943). Exh. Cat. Taipei 1944: Dairokkai futen zuroku (Catalog of the 6th Governor General’s Art Exhibition), Taiwan sōtokufu (Office of the Governor General of Taiwan), Taipei, 1944 (『第六回府展図録』 台湾総督府, 台北, 1944). Exh. Cat. Utrecht 1955: Jan van Scorel, A.C. Esmeijer and Simon H. Levie (eds.), The Central Museum, Utrecht, 1955. Exh. Cat. Vienna 1959: Maximilian I 1459–1519, F. Unterkircher (ed.), Österreichsche Nationalbibliothek, Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Kunsthistorisches Museum (Waffensammlung), Vienna, 1959. Exh. Cat. Innsbruck 1969: Maximilian, Erich Egg (ed.), Tiroler Landesmuseum Ferdinandeum, Innsbruck, 1969. Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 1976: Tot lering en vermaak: betekenissen van Hollandse genrevorstellingen uit de zeventiende eeuw, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 1976. Exh. Cat. London 1976: Johan Zoffany 1733–1810, Mary Webster (ed.), The National Portrait Gallery, London, 1976. Exh. Cat. Cologne 1977: Peter Paul Rubens 1577–1640, catalogue I, Rubens in Italien, Gemälde, Ölskizzen, Zeichnungen, Triumph der Eucharistie, Wandteppiche aus dem Kölner Dom, Gerhard Bott et al. (eds.), Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, Cologne, 1977. Exh. Cat. Kyoto 1978: Nihon no shōzō (Japanese portraits), Kyoto National Museum, Kyoto, 1978 (『日本の肖像』 京都国立博物館, 京都, 1978). Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1979: Johannes Cornelisz. Verspronck: leven en werken van een Haarlems portretschilder uit de 17-de eeuw, Rudolf E.O. Ekkart, Frans Halsmuseum, Haarlem, 1979. Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986: Portretten van echt en trouw: huwelijk en gezin in de Nederlandse kunst van de zeventiende eeuw, Eddy de Jong, Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, 1986. Exh. Cat. Otsu 1986: Kaihō Yūshō, Biwako Bunkakan, The Museum of Shiga Prefecture, Otsu, 1986 (『海北友松』, 滋賀県立琵琶湖文化館, 大津, 1986). Exh. Cat. London 1987a: Manners and morals: Hogarth and British painting 1700–1760, Elizabeth Einberg (ed.), The Tate Gallery, London, 1987. Exh. Cat. London 1987b: Franz Xaver Winterhalter and the courts of Europe 1830–70, Richard Ormont and Carol Blackett-Ord (eds.), The National Portrait Gallery, London, 1987. Exh. Cat. Washington, London and Haarlem 1989–1990: Frans Hals, Seymour Slive (ed.), National Gallery of Art, Washington, Royal Academy of Arts, London and Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, 1989–1990.

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Exh. Cat. Washington 1990: Anthony van Dyck, Arthur K. Wheelock Jr. et al. (eds.), National Gallery of Art, Washington, 1990. Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Worcester, 1993: Judith Leyster: a Dutch master and her world, Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem and Worcester Art Museum, Worcester, 1993. Exh. Cat. Kyoto 1993: Kokuga sōsaku kyōkai tenrankai gashū (Catalog of National Creative Painting Association exhibition), The National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, 1993 (『国画創作協会展覧会画集』, 京都国立近代美術館, 京都, 1993). Exh. Cat. Berkeley et al. 1995: The new child: British art and the origins of modern childhood 1730–1830, James Christen Steward (ed.), University Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, Berkeley et al., 1995. Exh. Cat. London and Chiba 1995: Kitagawa Utamaro, Asano Shūgō and Timothy Clark (eds.), British Museum, London and Chiba City Museum of Art, Chiba, 1995 (『喜多 川歌麿』 浅野秀剛, ティモシー・クラーク編, 大英博物館, ロンドン, 千葉市美術館, 千葉, 1995). Exh. Cat. Sendai 1995: Kazoku no shōzō: Nihon no family portrait (Family portraits in Japan), The Miyagi Museum of Art, Sendai, 1995 (『家族の肖像-日本のファミリーポー トレイト-』 宮城県立美術館, 仙台, 1995). Exh. Cat. Washington and The Hague 1995–1996: Johannes Vermeer, Arthur K. Wheelock (ed.), National Gallery of Art, Washington and Royal Cabinet of Paintings Mauritshuis, The Hague, 1995–1996. Exh. Cat. Washington and Amsterdam 1996: Jan Steen: painter and storyteller, H. Perry Chapman et al. (eds.), National Gallery of Art, Washington and Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 1996. Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 1997: Mirror of everyday life: genre prints in the Netherlands 1550– 1700, Eddy de Jongh and Ger Luijten (eds.), Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 1997. Exh. Cat. Genoa 1997: Van Dyck a Genova: grande pittura e collezionismo, Susan J. Barnes et al. (eds.), Palazzo Ducale, Genoa, 1997. Exh. Cat. Taipei 1997: Fengtuminqing (Land and people: the collected works of Li Mei-shu), Taipei City Art Museum, Taipei, 1997 (『風土民情-李梅樹作品集-』 台北市 立美術館, 台北, 1997). Exh. Cat. Tokyo 1998: Kanō-ha no sanbyakunen (Three hundred years of the Kanō school), Edo-Tokyo Museum, Tokyo, 1998 (『狩野派の三百年』 江戸東京博物館, 東京, 1998). Exh. Cat. Antwerp and London 1999: Van Dyck 1599–1641, Christopher Brown and Hans Vlieghe (eds.), Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp and Royal Academy of Arts, London, 1999. Exh. Cat. Iwaki 1999: Kazoku no shōzō: Suzuki Minoru Suzuki Yoshiko no sekai (Portrait of a family: inner world of Mr. and Mrs. Suzuki), Iwaki City Art Museum, Iwaki, 1999 (『家族の肖像-鈴木実・鈴木芳子の世界-』 いわき市美術館, いわき, 1999).

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Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000: Kinderen op hun mooist: het kinderportret in de Nederlanden 1500–1700, Jan Baptist Bedaux and Rudi Ekkart (eds.), Frans Halsmuseum, Haarlem and Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp, 2000. Exh. Cat. Hikone 2000: Bijutsu no naka no dōji (The divine child [dōji] in Japanese art), Hikone Castle Museum, Hikone, 2000 (『美術のなかの童子』, 彦根城博物館, 彦根, 2000). Exh. Cat. Kyoto 2000: Kisetsu wo iwau: Kyō no gosekku (Seasonal ceremonies: gosekku in Kyoto), The Museum of Kyoto, 2000 (『季節を祝う-京の五節句-』, 京都文化博物館, 2000). Exh. Cat. Nara 2000: Muromachi jidai no shōzōga (Portrait paintings of the Muromachi period), Nara Prefectural Museum of Art, 2000 (『室町時代の肖像画』 奈良県立美 術館, 奈良, 2000). Exh. Cat. Odawara 2000: Tesshinsai bunko shozō Ise Monogatari zuroku (Catalog of the Ise Monogatari in the Tesshinsai library), 19, “Ise Monogatari no dentō” (Traditions of the Ise Monogatari-e), Tesshinsai Bunko Ise Monogatari Bunkakan (『鉄心斎文庫所蔵伊勢物語図録』 19 「伊勢物語絵の伝統」 鉄心斎文庫伊勢物語文 華館, 小田原, 2000). Exh. cat. Tokyo 2001: Bijutsu no naka no kodomotachi (Wonder and joy: children in Japanese art), Tokyo National Museum, Tokyo, 2001 (『美術の中のこどもたち』 東京 国立博物館, 東京, 2001). Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002: Art and home: Dutch interiors in the age of Rembrandt, Mariët Westermann (ed.), Denver Art Museum, Denver and Newark Museum, Newark, 2001–2002. Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 2002: Kopstukken, Amsterdammers geportretteerd, 1600–1800, Norbert Middelkoop (ed.), Amsterdams Historisch Museum, Amsterdam, 2002. Exh. Cat. Himeji 2002: Bijutsu to sensō (Art and war), Himeji City Museum of Art, Himeji, 2002 (『美術と戦争』 姫路市美術館, 姫路, 2002). Exh. Cat. Raleigh, Columbus and Manchester 2002–2003: Jan Miense Molenaer: painter of the Dutch golden age, Dennis P. Weller, North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, Indianapolis Museum of Art (Columbus Gallery), Columbus and The Currier Museum of Art, Manchester, 2002–2003. Exh. Cat. Seoul 2003: Han Mook, National Museum of Contemporary Art, Korea, Seoul, 2003 (『한묵』, 국립현대미술관, 한국, 서울, 2003). Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Hamburg 2004: Vergnügliches Leben – Verborgene Lust: holländische Gesellschaftsszenen von Frans Hals bis Jan Steen, Pieter Biesboer and Martina Sitt (eds.), Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem and Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg, 2004. Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004a: Rubens in Wien: die Meisterwerke. Die Gemälde in den Sammlungen des Fürsten von und zu Liechtenstein, des Kunsthistorischen Museums und der Gemäldegalerie der Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien, Johann Kräftner

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et al. (eds.), Liechtenstein Museum, Kunsthistorischen Museum and Gemäldegalerie der Akademie der bildenden Künste, Vienna, 2004. Exh. Cat. Vienna 2004b: Peter Paul Rubens, Klaus Albrecht Schröder and Heinz Widauer (eds.), Albertina, Vienna, 2004. Exh. Cat. Washington and Detroit 2004–2005: Gerard ter Borch, National Gallery of Art, Washington and Detroit Institute of Arts, Detroit, 2004–2005. Exh. Cat. Bath and Kendal 2005: Pictures of innocence: portraits of children from Hogarth to Lawrence, Amina Wright and Martin Postle (eds.), Holburne Museum, Bath and Abbot Hall Gallery, Kendal, 2005. Exh. Cat. Ferrara and London 2005: Joshua Reynolds: the creation of celebrity, Martin Postle (ed.), Palazzo dei Diamanti, Ferrara and Tate Britain, London, 2005. Exh. Cat. Tochigi 2005: Edo no ningyō bunka to meikō Hara Shūgetsu (Doll culture in Edo and virtuoso doll maker Hara Shūgetsu), Koresawa, Hiroaki (ed.), Tochigi kuranomachi Museum of Art, Tochigi, 2005 (『江戸の人形文化と名工原舟月』 是澤博昭 監修, とちぎ蔵の街美術館, 栃木, 2005). Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2005: Taiwan no josei nihonjin gaka seitan hyakunen kinen: Chen Chin 1907–1998 (Centennial anniversary of the birth of a woman painter of Japanese-style painting in Taiwan: Chen Chin 1907–1998), The Shoto Museum of Art, Tokyo, 2005 (『台湾の女性日本画家生誕百年記念-陳進展(1907 ~ 1998)-』, 渋谷区立松濤美術館 ほか, 東京, 2005). Exh. Cat. Fukuoka 2006: Kindaibijutsu IV: miidasareta kyōdo. Nihon jidai no Taiwan kaiga (Modern art IV: revealing the local. Painting in Taiwan during the Japanese period), Fukuoka Asian Art Museum, Fukuoka, 2006 (『近代美術 IV 見いだされた郷 土-日本時代の台湾絵画-』 福岡アジア美術館, 福岡, 2006). Exh. Cat. London 2006: At home in Renaissance Italy, Marta Ajmar-Wollheim and Flora Dennis (eds.), Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 2006. Exh. Cat. Los Angeles 2006: Pieter de Hooch: a woman preparing bread and butter for a boy, Wayne Franits, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 2006. Exh. Cat. Sapporo 2006: Takahashi Hironobu collection juzō kinen ukiyoe bijinga no  miryoku: Kunisada, Kuhiyoshi, Eisen (Memorial exhibition of donation of Takahasi Hironobu collection: charm of ukiyo-e bijinga, Kunisada, Kuhiyoshi, Eisen), Hokkaido Museum of Modern Art, Sapporo, 2006 (『高橋博信コレクション 受贈記念浮世絵美人画の魅力-国貞・国芳・英泉-』 北海道立近代美術館, 札幌, 2006). Exh. Cat. Tainan 2006: Yichu, Hsueh Wan-dong Jinianzan (Neglected pearl: a Hsueh Wan-dong retrospective), Tainan City Culture Center, Tainan, 2006 (『遺珠-薛万棟 紀念展-』 台南市立文化中心, 台南, 2006). Exh. Cat. Brussels 2007: Rubens: a genius at work. The works of Peter Paul Rubens reconsidered, Joost Vander Auwera et al. (eds.), Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels, 2007.

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Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007: The changing face of childhood: British children’s portraits and their influence in Europe, Mirjam Neumeister (ed.), Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main and Dulwich Picture Gallery, London, 2007. Exh. Cat. Izumi 2007: Kaikan 25 shūnen kinen tokubetsuten zuroku Ise Monogatari: Miyabi to koi no katachi (Catalog of the special 25th anniversary exhibition: Ise Monogatari. Images of Elegance and Love), Kubosō Kinen Bijutsukan (Kuboso Memorial Museum of Arts), Izumi, 2007 (『開館二十五周年記念特別展図録伊勢物 語-雅と恋のかたち-』 和泉市久保惣記念美術館, 和泉, 2007). Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2007: “Gyūnyū wo sosogu on’na” to oranda fūzokuga ten (Milkmaid by Vermeer and genre painting masterworks from the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam), National Art Center, Tokyo, 2007 (『「牛乳を注ぐ女」 とオランダ風俗画展』, 国立新美 術館, 東京, 2007). Exh. Cat. Frankfurt am Main and London 2007–2008: Cranach der Ältere, Bodo Brinkmann (ed.), Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main and Royal Academy of Arts, London, 2007–2008. Exh. Cat. London and The Hague 2007–2008: Dutch portraits: the age of Rembrandt and Fans Hals, Rudi Ekkart Quentin Buvelot et al. (eds.), The National Gallery, London and Royal Picture Gallery Mauritshuis, The Hague, 2007–2008. Exh. Cat Seoul 2008: Hanguk geundae misul goeljakjeon (Master pieces of modern art in Korea), National Museum of Contemporary Art, Korea, Seoul, 2008 (『한국근대 미술걸작전』, 국립현대미술관, 한국, 서울, 2008). Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2008: Ōchō no koi: egakareta Ise monogatari (Courtly love: the Tales of Ise illustrated), Idemitsu Museum of Arts, Tokyo, 2008 (『王朝の恋-描かれた伊勢物 語-』, 出光美術館, 東京, 2008). Exh. Cat. Tokyo and Osaka 2008: Louvre bijutsukan ten: bi no kyūden no kodomotachi (L’Enfant dans les collections du Musée du Louvre), National Art Center, Tokyo and National Museum of Art, Osaka, 2008 (『ルーヴル美術館展-美の宮殿の子ども たち-』, 国立新美術館, 東京, 国立国際美術館, 大阪, 2008). Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2009: Amamonzeki jiin no sekai (Amamonzeki: a hidden heritage. Treasures of the Japanese imperial convents), The University Art Museum, Tokyo University of the Arts, 2009 (『尼門跡寺院の世界』 東京藝術大学大学美術館, 東京, 2009).

Original Sources Written in Archaic Japanese Anonym, Ise monogatari (Tales of Ise), 10th century (作者不詳 『伊勢物語』 10 世紀). Anonym, Ise monogatari ōhisho (Esoterica of the tales of Ise), the latter half of the Muromachi period (1392–1573) (作者不詳 『伊勢物語奥秘書』 室町時代後期). Anonym, Ōkagami (Great mirror), 11th century (作者不詳 『大鏡』 11 世紀).

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Photo Credits and Sources Figs. 1.1, 1.17 (© The Trustees of the British Museum); Fig. 1.2 (Exh. Cat. London and Chiba 1995, plates volume, p. 164, fig. 309); Figs. 1.3, 1.4 (Matsushima 2007, pp. 2, 77, figs. 2, 112); Fig. 1.5 (Exh. Cat. Kyoto 1978, p. 211, fig. 148); Figs. 1.6, 1.7 (Exh. Cat. Otsu 1986, fig. 22); Figs. 1.8–1.13, 1.16, 1.19, 1.22 (Exh. Cat. Denver and Newark 2001–2002, pp. 50, 54, 57, 102, 139, 144, figs. 71, 72, 79, 83, 141, 185, 190, 191); Fig.  1.14 (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, F.E. Blaauw, Bequest, ’s-Graveland); Figs. 1.15, 1.23, 1.24 (Exh. Cat. London and The Hague 2007–2008, pp. 86, 167, fig. 5a, no. 42); Figs. 1.18, 1.20 (Exh. Cat. Haarlem 1986, nos. 58, 73); Figs. 1.21, 2.6, 4.3 (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam); Figs.  1.25, 1.27 (Exh. Cat. Amsterdam 2002, pp. 57, 92, fig. 73, no. 5); Fig. 1.26 (Bok 1996, p. 224, fig. 9); Figs. 2.1, 2.3, 3.9 (Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art); Fig. 2.2 (Cat. Vienna 1991, pl. 560, no. 843); Figs. 2.4, 2.5, 2.13, 2.14 (Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005a, pp. 205, 207, figs. 164, 165); Fig. 2.7 (The illustrated Bartsch 1980a, p. 131, no. 13); Fig. 2.8 (Budde 1986, p. 56, figs. 42–44); Figs. 2.9, 3.26 (Photo: Kayo Hirakawa); Fig. 2.10 (Cat. The Hague 2004, p. 75, fig.  744); Figs.  2.11, 3.25, 4.1 (Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington); Fig. 2.12 (Cat. Vienna 1997, p. 65); Fig. 2.15 (Exh. Cat. Vienna 1959, fig. 90); Figs. 2.16, 3.11 (Photo © The National Gallery, London); Fig. 2.17 (The illustrated Bartsch 1980b, p. 409, no. 116); Figs. 2.18, 2.19 (Cat. Vienna 1991, pl. 571, nos. 832, 6411); Fig. 2.20 (Thümmel 1980, p. 99, fig. 104a); Fig. 2.21 (Bergmeier 2001, p. 195, fig.  1); Fig.  2.22 (Exh. Cat. Vienna 1959, fig.  14); Figs.  3.1, 3.2, 4.7 (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Aankoop met steun van de Vereniging Rembrandt); Fig. 3.3 (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Bruikleen van de gemeente Amsterdam, Legaat A. van der Hoop); Fig. 3.4 (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Bruikleen van de gemeente Amsterdam); Figs. 3.5, 3.19, 4.4, 4.6, 4.8, 4.11, 4.14 (© bpk|Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen/distributed by AMF); Figs.  3.6, 3.7 (The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles); Fig.  3.8 (London, Exh. Cat. Washington and The Hague 1995–1996, p. 128); Fig.  3.10 (Sutton 2006, p. 80); Fig.  3.12 (Krempel 2000, fig.  39); Figs.  3.13, 3.22, 3.23 (Loughman and Montias 2000, pp. 100, 120, 122, figs. 44, 61, 63); Fig. 3.14 (Franits 2004, p. 199, fig. 185); Fig. 3.15 (Sutton et al. 2003, p. 24); Fig.  3.16 (Cat. Frankfurt am Main 2005b, p. 153, fig.  112); Fig.  3.17 (Image copyright © The Metropolitan Museum of Art,  Image source: Art Resource, NY); Fig.  3.18 (Photo: John Loughman); Fig.  3.20 (Cat. Vienna 1991, pl. 545); Fig.  3.21 (Kuretsky 1979, p. 211, fig.  187); Fig. 3.24 (Exh. Cat. Washington and Detroit 2004–2005, p. 20); Figs. 4.2, 4.9, 4.12, 4.13 (Exh. Cat. Frankfurt and London 2007, pp. 61, 94, 113, 133, figs. 29, 51); Fig. 4.5 (Exh. Cat. Haarlem and Antwerp 2000, p. 20, fig.  6); Fig.  4.10 (Cat. Budapest 2005, p. 255, fig. 249); Fig. 5.1 (Kōdansha 1990, p. 25, fig. 23); Figs. 5.2, 5.8, 5.10,

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_012

346

Photo Credits and Sources

5.12, 5.22, 5.23 (Katagiri 1981, pp. 11, 17, 22, 41, 63, 136); Figs.  5.3, 5.4, 5.13–5.16, 5.18–5.20 (Institute of Japanese Culture of Hagoromo University of International Studies 2007, Shiryō-hen, pp. 67, 116, 125, 126, 128, 132, 194, 199, 211); Figs. 5.5, 5.24 (Exh. Cat. Izumi 2007, pp. 38, 43, figs. 24, 34); Fig. 5.6; Figs. 5.7, 5.9, 5.11, 5.21, 5.25 (Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2008, pp. 33, 34, 38, 42, 50, figs. 9, 10, 14, 17, 25); Fig. 5.17 (© The British Library Board (Or 904, Anonym, 53rd episode). All Rights Reserved 20/02/2014); Fig.  5.26 (Gakushūkenkyūsha 1988, p. 98, fig.  81); Figs.  6.1, 6.2, 7.9, 7.11 (Owned by Kumon Institute of Education, Tokyo); Fig. 6.3 (Mainichi Shinbunsha and Sihō iinkai jimukyoku 1991, fig. 9); Figs. 6.4, 6.5 (Yamamoto 2005, p. 11, fig. 12); Fig. 6.6 (Exh. Cat. Tokyo 1998, p. 52, fig. 22); Fig. 6.7 (Mainichi Shinbunsha and Sihō iinkai jimukyoku 1991, fig. 151); Fig. 6.8 (Tsuji 1967, p. 64); Figs.  6.9–6.11 (Exh. Cat. Tokyo 2009, pp. 172, 174–177, fig.  101); Figs.  7.1, 7.2 (Kadokawa shoten 1968, pp. 52–55); Figs. 7.3, 7.13 (Exh. Cat., Kyoto 2000, pp. 80, 92, figs. 60, 66); Fig. 7.4 (Ōmori 1972, p. 53); Fig. 7.5 (Kami 1997, pp. 104.105); Fig. 7.6 (Kyoto Prefectural Archives, Kyoto); Fig. 7.7 (photograph © 2o/02/2014 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston); Fig. 7.8 (Kobayashi 1991, fig. 68); Fig. 7.10 (Exh. Cat. Sapporo 2006, p. 71, fig. 134); Figs. 7.12, 7.15 (Murashige 1991, p. 228, fig. 336); Fig. 7.14 (Nihon Zuihitsutaisei Henshūbu 1927, p. 397); Fig. 8.1 (Exh. Cat. Kyoto 1993, p. 117); Fig. 8.2 (Exh. Cat. Taipei 1929, p. 69); Fig. 8.3 (Exh. Cat. Taipei 1935, p. 40.); Fig. 8.4 (Taiwan Nichinichi Shinpō, May 22, 1943, p. 2); Figs. 8.5, 8.9 (Exh. Cat. Taipei 1939, pp. 62, 87); Fig. 8.6 (Exh. Cat. Taipei 1944, p. 24); Figs. 8.7, 8.8, 8.11, 8.17 (Exh. Cat. Taipei 1943, pp. 36, 57, 59, 90); Figs. 8.10, 8.12, 8.18, 8.21, 8.22, 8.25, 8.26, 9.3–9.11, 9.22–9.29 (Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner); Figs. 8.13–8.16 (Courtesy Li Mei-shu Memorial Gallery, Taipei); Fig. 8.19 (Exh. Cat. Tokyo 1939, p. 117); Fig. 8.20 (Haryū 2007, p. 196, fig. 96); Fig. 8.23 (Mori 1993, p. 117); Fig. 8.24 (Center for Art Studies Korea 1999, p. 582) ; Figs. 9.1, 9.2 (Reproduced with permission of Kim Bok-ki, Art in Culture); Figs.  9.12–9.21 (Reproduced with permission of Korean Art Appraisal Board).

Index Albert, Prince, husband of Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland  131 Albert, Duke of Saxony  81–82 Anna, daughter of John Cicero, Elector of Brandenburg  75n36 Anna, daughter of Ladislaus II, King of Hungary and Bohemia  78 Anne, daughter of Charles I, King of England  125 Ariès, Philippe  16, 112n8 Arima, Shūzō 有馬周三  257 Arishima, Ikuma有島生馬  279–280 Ariwara, Narihira 在原業平  138–140, 142–144, 146–151, 151n25, 152–153, 156–157, 159–162, 165–166, 168 Asai, Mototoshi 浅井元齢  261 Asaoka, Okisada 朝岡興禎  197n11 Bae, Woon-sung 배운성 裵雲成  288–291, 296, 299, 304 Bailly, David  44 Bancken, Margarieta van  28–29, 33 Bening, Simon  80 Berck, Dorothea  25–26 Berckheyde, Job  98–99 Beechey, William  129 Bierens, Jacob  36–37, 40 Bloemaert, Hendrick  45 Bora, Katharina von  31 Botanka, Shōhaku 牡丹花肖柏  139 Bouts, Dieric the Elder  55 Brant, Isabella  119 Bray, Jan de  28–29, 29n49 Brekelenkam, Quirijn (Quiringh) van  95–96 Brengbier, Barbara  71 Brengbier, Jobst  71 Casteleyn, Abraham  28–29, 33 Cats, Jacob  23n38, 36, 86 Cattaneo, Filippo  123 Cattaneo, Maddalena  108–110, 123–124, 127 Cavendish, George  108, 130

Cavendish, Georgiana  129 Chang, Ucchin 장욱진 張旭鎮  287–288, 292, 292n9, 293–294, 294nn10–11 295–297, 299, 304, 306, 311–312 Charles I, King of England  50, 125, 131 Charles II, King of England  125 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor  76n38, 77–78, 82 Chodowiecki, Daniel  128 Choi, Yung-rim 최영림 崔栄林  297, 299, 306–307 Chōjirō 長次郎  169 Chōshōshi 長嘯子 (Kinoshita, Katsutoshi 木下勝俊)  11, 18 Chen, Cheng-po 陳澄波  254–255 Chen, Chih-chi 陳植棋  255 Chen, Chin 陳進  255–256, 262, 263n30, 271, 274–275, 280 Chen, Ching-hui 陳敬輝  256, 280 Codde, Pieter  104 Confucius 孔子  13 Coster, Laurens Jansz  28 Coymans, Isabella  26–27 Coymans, Joseph  25–26 Cranach, Lucas, the Elder  49, 56–57, 57n2, 58–60, 62, 67n23, 68, 70–71, 72n30, 75–76, 76n38, 81–82 Crewe, Frances  108–110, 127 Cuspinian, Johannes  78–79, 81 Daughter of Ki no Aritsune (Ki no Aritsune no musume) 紀有常の女  156 Dou, Gerard  83 Dürer, Albrecht  56 Dyck, Anthony van  50, 108–110, 123–127, 131 Edogawa, Rampo 江戸川乱歩  251 Eguchi, Keishirō　江口敬四郎  279–280 Elder Master of the Holy Kinship  64 Eikyō, Imperial Princess and the Chief Priest of Daishōji Temple 大聖寺門跡永享  227n19 Elinga, Pieter Janssens  99–100

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004261945_012

348 Elizabeth, daughter of Charles I, King of England  125 Elizabeth, Princess of Poland  75n36 En’yū, Emperor of Japan 円融天皇  138n9 Ernest, Elector of Saxony  81 Everdingen, Caesar van  116 Ferdinand I, Holy Roman Emperor  77–78 Fourment, Helena  118 Frangepani, Apollonia  80–81 Frangepani, Christoph  80–81 Frederick II, Elector of Saxony  81 Frederick III, the Wise, Elector of Saxony  49, 59, 68, 70, 72–75, 75n36, 77, 81–82 Frederick Hendrick van Oranje  26n46 Fujimura, Yōken 藤村庸軒  14 Fujiwara, Michinaga 藤原道長  220 Fujiwara, Teika 藤原定家  149n23 Gainsborough, Thomas  127 Geraerdts, Stephanus  26–27 Goeree, Willem  89–90, 97 Goffman, Erving  89, 89n42 Goltzius, Hendrick  32 Gomizunoo, Emperor of Japan 後水尾天皇  223, 226 Goncourt, Edmond de  5–9, 49 Goo, Sang 구상 具常  304 Gosai, Emperor of Japan 後西天皇  215 Goshirakawa, Emperor of Japan 後白河天皇  221 Graeff, Maria van der  38 Gu, Ye-wang (Jp: Ko Yaō) 顧野王  194, 194n7 Guo Ziyi (Jp: Kaku Shigi) 郭子儀  200, 204 Gyōjō, Imperial Priest Prince and the Chief Priest of Myōhōin Temple 妙法院門跡堯恕  227n19 Gyokusuitei, Yasumaro 玉水亭保麻呂  238n35 Gyokuzan 玉山  233, 234n28 Habermas, Jürgen  133n1, 134n2 Hals, Frans  25–28, 29n49 Han, Mook 한묵 韓黙  297–298 Harada, Shigeyasu 原田茂安  280n62

index Hashimoto, Kansetsu 橋本関雪  274–275 Hayasaka, Yoshihiro 早坂吉弘 (Yeh, Hou-cheng 葉火城)  263n29 Hayashi, Rinnosuke林林之助 (Lin, Chih-chu 林之助)  262–263, 263n31 Hayashi, Tadamasa 林忠正  6 Heizei, Emperor of Japan平城天皇  220 Hendricksz, Symon  43 Heyden, Jan van der  94–95 Higashizono, Motokazu東園基量  225 Hinloopen, Jan Jakobsen  102 Hiroko, daughter of Konoe Motohiro 熙子  225–226, 226n19 Hishiya (Hinaya), Jirōzaemon 菱屋(雛屋) 次郎左衛門  244 Hogarth, William  126 Honthorst, Gerard van  116, 129 Hooch, Pieter de  49, 83–84, 86–87, 89, 89n13, 90, 93, 98, 103, 106–107 Hoogstraten, Samuel van  104 Horibe, Isao 堀部一三男  255 Hosokawa, Hasumaru　細川蓮丸  186 Hosokawa, Yūsai 細川幽斎  139, 139n11 Hsueh, Wan-dong薛萬棟  249–250, 280–281, 283 Huang, Tu-shui 黄土水  255 Huygens, Constantijn  26n46 Iba, Naizen  202 Ichihime (Princess Ichi), daughter of Tokugawa Ieyasu, Shogun of Japan 市姫  186 Ichiki, Shiori 市來シヲリ  256 Ichijō, Kanera 一条兼良  139, 193n11 Iida, Jitsuo 飯田實雄   257, 259, 270 Ike, Taiga 池大雅  200 Ikeda, Narimichi 池田斎訓  211 Im, Goon-hong 임군홍 任群鴻   290–291 Inda, Shigeru 院田繁  262 Ishida, Yūtei 石田幽汀  205 Ishihara, Shizan 石原紫山  270, 274 Isshibunshu oshō 一絲文守和尚  197n11 Iwasa, Mitsusuke 岩佐光輔  198n11 Jippensha, Ikku 十返舎一九  6 John, the Steadfast, Elector of Saxony  49, 59, 68, 70, 73, 75, 77, 81 John Frederick, the Magnanimous, Elector of Saxony  59, 68, 70, 74, 74n35, 75–77, 82

349

index Jon, Rye-jin 전뢰진 田礌鎮  310–311 Jongh, Ludolf de  98 Jordaens, Jacob  113–114, 119 Kada, Azumamaro 荷田春満  139, 139n12, 159 Kaibara, Ekiken 貝原益軒  158–159 Kaibara, Yoshifuru 貝原好古  228, 228n23 Kaihō, Yūchiku 海北友竹  20 Kaihō, Yūsetsu 海北友雪  20 Kaihō ,Yūshō 海北友松  20 Kamehime (Princess Kame) 亀姫  225 Kamo, Mabuchi 賀茂真淵  139, 139n12 Kangyōin, mother of Kazunomiya 観行院  244n48 Kanō, Atsunobu 狩野敦信  202–203 Kanō, Chikanobu 狩野周信  199 Kanō, Dōshun 狩野洞春  202 Kanō, Eitoku 狩野永徳  186, 198 Kanō, Hideyori 狩野季頼  198n11 Kanō, Ikkei 狩野一渓  194, 194n7 Kanō, Masanobu (Shōsen’in) 狩野雅信 (勝川院)  207n17, 210n19 Kanō, Michinobu 狩野典信  199 Kanō, Motonobu (Kohōgen) 狩野元信 (古法眼)  198, 198n11 Kanō, Naganobu (Isen’in) 狩野栄信 (伊川院)  200 Kanō, Nakanobu (Kōsen, Tōsen) 狩野中信 (幸川、董川)  206n17, 210n19 Kanō, Osanobu (Seisen’in) 狩野養信 (晴川院)  141n15, 195, 207–209, 209n19, 210n19 Kanō, Sansetsu 狩野山雪  197, 212 Kanō, Seisetsu 狩野晴雪  207n17 Kanō, Tan’en 狩野探淵  206n17, 207, 210n19 Kanō, Tan’yū 狩野探幽  12, 189, 198–199, 202–205 Kanō, Tōhaku 狩野洞白  206n17 Kanō, Yasunobu (Eishin) 狩野安信 (永真)  202–203, 205 Kanō, Yūsei 狩野祐清  210n19 Kaō Sōnen 可翁宗然  197n11 Kasuga no tsubone 春日局  21 Katsuyama, Takushū 勝山琢舟  209 Kaya, Hanbei 栢半兵衛  205 Kaya, Tomotaka 栢友篤  202, 205

Kazunomiya 和宮  244n48 Keichū 契沖  139, 139n12 Kenzō, Emperor of Japan 顕宗天皇  219 Kida, Tamiko 貴田多美子  255 Kikuhime (Princess Kiku), daughter of Maeda Toshiie 菊姫  231 Kinoshita, Iesada 木下家定  11 Kinoshita, Katsutoshi 木下勝俊 (Chōshōshi 長嘯子)  11, 18 Kishida, Reiko 岸田麗子  251 Kishida, Ryūsei 岸田劉生  251 Kitagawa, Morisada 喜多川守貞   234nn28–29, 237, 237n32 Kitagawa, Tamiji 北川民次  285 Kitagawa, Utamaro 喜多川歌麿  5–9, 18, 49, 187, 191 Kitamura, Seibō 北村西望  275 Kita no mandokoro, wife of Toyotomi Hideyoshi 北の政所  11 Kiyohara, Yukinobu 清原雪信  12 Kiyohime (Princess Kiyo), daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, Shogun of Japan 喜代姫  211 Kneller, Godfred  126 Kogure, Joichi 木檜恕一  251 Koide, Narashige 小出楢重  252–253, 253n12, 254 Kong, Jun-ping (Jp: Kō Kunpei) 孔君平  194, 194n7 Konoe, Motohiro 近衛基熙  226, 226n17 Kōtari, Jōan 神足常庵  202 Kūkai 空海  185 Kurokawa, Dōyū 黒川道祐  227, 227n21 Kurokawa, Motohisa 黒川元寿  202 Kusumi, Hikojūrō 久隈彦十郎  12 Kusumi Morikage 久隈守景  5, 9, 10–12, 12n20, 13, 13n21, 14–18, 50, 186 Kyokutei, Bakin 曲亭馬琴 (Takizawa, Bakin 滝沢馬琴)  229n24, 241–242, 242n44–45, 243 Laen, Beatrix van der  29n49 Louis II, King of Hungary and Bohemia  77–78 Lang von Wellenburg, Matthäus  81 Laupach, Rumold von  66 Lawrence, Thomas  108, 130

350 Lee, Joong-seop 이중섭 李仲燮  287–288, 292, 297, 299, 299n14, 300–302, 302n15, 303–306, 310–312 Lee, Tse-fan 李澤藩 (Satozawa, Han 里澤藩)  257, 260–261 Lely, Peter  117n23, 126 Leyster, Judith  46 Li, Chiu-ho 李秋禾  262 Li, Jing-yang 李景陽  267 Li, Mei-shu 李梅樹  255, 262, 266–268, 270–272 Li, Shih-chiao 李石樵  249, 272–274, 276 Li, Song 李嵩  196 Liao, Chi-chun 廖繼春  255–256 Lin, Bo-shou 林柏壽  262–264 Lin, Chih-chu 林之助 (Hayashi, Rinnosuke 林林之助)  262–263, 263n31 Lin, Chin-hung 林錦鴻  255 Lin, Rung-jie 林榮杰  257–258 Lin, Yu-chu 林玉珠  276–277 Lin, Yu-shan 林玉山  255, 264 Locke, John  127 Loo, Jacob van  116 Lu, Wenying 呂文英  196 Luther, Martin  31, 31n54 Maeda, Toshiie 前田利家  231 Maen, Wolfgang von  74n34 Maes, Nicolaes  83, 96–97 Man, Cornelis de  88 Master of Frankfurt  67, 67n23 Master W with the Key  64, 67n23 Margaret, daughter of Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor  75n36 Margarita Teresa, daughter of Philip IV, King of Spain   116 Marle, Cornelia van  105 Maruyama, Ōkyo 円山応挙  17, 200 Mary, daughter of Philip the Fair  78 Mary, daughter of Wilhelm III, Duke of Jülich-Berg  75 Mary of Burgundy  77–78 Massa, Isaac  29n49 Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor  49, 72–74, 74n32, 75n36, 77–79, 79n42, 80–81, 81n46, 82 Mecklenburg, Sophie von  68, 70, 74n35, 75

index Metsu, Gabriel  49, 90, 93, 97, 101, 102n29, 105–107 Mieris, Frans van, the Elder  29–30, 37 Min, Bok-jin 민복진 閔福鎮  310 Minamoto, Takaaki 源高明  220n3 Minamoto, Yorimitsu 源頼光  6 Mito, Keinosuke 水戸敬之助  272n48 Miyauchi, Mitsue 宮内ミツヱ  255 Molenaer, Jan Miense  40, 40n68, 41–42, 46 Maurice, Duke of Saxony, Elector of Saxony  71, 82 Morihime (Princess Mori), daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, Shogun of Japan 盛姫  211 Moriwaki, Tadashi 森脇忠  275 Mostaert, Jan  62–63 Murasawa, Setsuko 村澤節子  256, 280 Murata, Ryōa 村田了亜  18 Muylkens, Adriaen Hansz  44 Myōkei, wife of Watanabe Jōkei 妙慶  19 Myōtei, wife of Kaihō Yūshō 妙貞  20–21 Nabari, Kokyō 名張湖鏡  237n34 Nagasawa, Rosetsu 長沢芦雪  200 Nakanoin, Michikatsu 中院道勝  154, 154n27 Nakata, Chikara 中田主税  238n34 Nakayama, Chūji 中山鍮次 (Nakayama, Osayoshi中山養福)  206n17 Naniwaya, Okita 難波屋おきた  191 Nanzan, Shiun 南山士雲  195 Netscher, Caspar  103 Nezu, Shizuko 根津靜子  262 Nijō Empress (Nijō no kisaki) 二条の后  51, 133, 136–137, 137n9, 138–140, 143, 145n22, 146–150, 151n25, 153, 155, 159–162, 165–166, 168 Nishikawa, Sukenobu 西川祐信  229–232, 237, 247n51 Nonomiya, Sadamoto 野宮定基  225, 226n16, 238 Ochtervelt, Jacob  34–36, 39, 98 Oelhafen, Sixtus  74n34 Ogasawara, Mitsue 小笠原ミツエ  255 Okada, Saburousuke 岡田三郎助  277 Ono, Ikuko 小野郁子  256 Ōtsuki, Kenji 大槻憲二  265 Oteisei 鴎汀生  280n63, 281n68

index Ōta, Nanpo 太田南畝  233n27 Ozawa, Akinari 小澤秋成  256 Ozu, Yasujirō 小津安二郎  254 Park, Soo-keun 박수근 朴寿根  287–288, 292, 306–312 Philip, the Fair  77–78 Prins, Eeuwout  38–39 Pyll, Jan Claes  44 Raphael  118 Reynolds, Joshua  108–110, 127, 129 Roghman, Geertruyt  37–38 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques  127–128 Rubens, Albert  119, 119n36, 120–122 Rubens, Clara Serena  120 Rubens, Frans  118 Rubens, Nicolaas  119, 119n36, 120–121 Rubens, Peter Paul  117–119, 121–122, 122n46, 123–124, 124n51 Ryōkyū 良久 (Okubōzu Ryōkyū 奥坊主良久)  206n17 Saenredam, Jan  32–33 Sakagami, Yōhaku 坂上養伯  209 Sakai, Hōitsu 酒井抱一  242, 244, 246–247 Sakata, Kintoki 坂田金時 (Kintarō 金太郎)  6 Sanjōnishi, Sanetaka三条西実隆  157, 157n37 Santō, Kyōden 山東京伝  244–245 Satozawa, Han 里澤藩　(Lee, Tse-fan 李澤藩)  257, 260–261 Schaep, Gerrit Pietersz  42–44 Schletzer, Magdalena Lucretia  30 Schongauer, Martin  55 Scorel, Jan van  80–81 Seihō Yōshō 晴峰養償 (Arai, Seihō 新井晴峰)  198n11 Sesshū 雪舟  197–198, 198n11 Sesson 雪村  198 Seta, Norimi 勢多章甫  223n9 Shaih, Li-fa 謝里法  174, 280–281 Shikitei, Sanba 式亭三馬  236, 236n31 Shimokōbe, Shūsui下河辺拾水  161n53 Shinkei, Imperial Priest Prince and the Chief Priest of Ichijōin Temple 一乗院門跡真敬  226n19

351 Shinkōgimon’in , Imperial Princess Tsuneko’s mother　新広義門院  227n19 Shunchōsai, Nobushige 春朝斎信繁  241, 241n43 Shōmu, Emperor of Japan 聖武天皇  219 Shōtoku Taishi 聖徳太子  185 Shūgetsu 舟月  233, 234n28 Sima, Guang (Jp: Siba, kō ) 司馬光   193–194, 194n7, 206n17, 208 Sixtus IV, Pope  65 Sonshō, Imperial Priest Prince and the Chief Priest of Shōren’in Temple 青蓮院門跡尊證  277n19 Spalatin, Georg  76 Spinola Doria, Brigida  124n51 Sorgh, Hendrik Martensz  36–40 Sōgi 宗祇  139, 155–157, 160, 168 Song, Yung-soo 송영수 宋栄洙  309–310 Stappaert, Maria  123n47 Steen, Jan  110, 112–113 Strigel, Bernhard  69, 73, 77–79 Strozzi, Clarissa  123 Su, Hanchen (Jp: So, Kanshin) 蘇漢臣  194–195, 197 Suehime (Princess Sue), daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, Shogun of Japan 末姫  211 Sumiyoshi, Hiroyuki 住吉廣行  186n1 Sumiyoshi, Jokei 住吉如慶  160n51, 221 Suzuki, Harunobu 鈴木春信  18, 187–188, 248n51 Suzuki, San’emon 鈴木三右衛門  229n24 Sylvius, Franciscus de le Boë  29–31 Tajima, Masatomo 田島正友  270, 272 Takamori, Ungen 高森雲巌 (Tsai, Yun-yan 蔡雲巌)  262–263 Tsai, Ma-da 蔡媽達  256, 280 Tsai, Yun-yan 蔡雲巌 (Takamori, Ungen 高森雲巌)  262–263 Takashima, Ohisa 高島おひさ  191 Takizawa, Bakin 滝沢馬琴 (Kyokutei, Bakin 曲亭馬琴)  229n24, 241–242, 242n44–45, 243 Tateishi, Tesshin立石鐵臣  264–265 Tamaki, Suekazu玉城末一  252–253 Tawaraya, Sōtatsu 俵屋宗達  134–135, 138–141, 141n15, 142–148, 148n23,

352 149, 153–154, 158, 160, 162–163, 165–169 Temple, William  101 Tenkyūin 天久院  212 Ter Borch, Gerard  69, 92–93, 105–107, 111 Terauchi, Manjirō寺内万次郎  283 Titian  123 Tofukumon’in Masako 東福門院和子  225 Tōjō, Yaichirō 東条弥一郎  206n17 Tokugawa, Iemitsu, Shogun of Japan 徳川家光  21 Tokugawa, Ienari, Shogun of Japan 徳川家斉  211 Torii, Kiyonaga鳥居清長  232–234 Tosa, Mitsuyoshi土佐光吉  168–169, 223 Toyotomi, Hideyoshi豊臣秀吉  11 Truman-Villebois, Henry  127 Truman-Villebois, John  127 Tsukioka, Tange月岡丹下  161n53 Tsuneko, daughter of Gomizunoo 常子  225n14, 226, 226n19, 227n19 Tsuruzawa, Tangei 鶴沢探鯨  216 Tuyll van Serooskerke (Serooskerken), Pieter van  45 Tuyll van Serooskerke (Serooskerken), Hendrik Jacob van  44–45 Tuyll van Serooskerken, Hieronymus van  116, 129–130 Tuyll van Serooskerken, Frederik Adolf van  116,129–130 Utagawa, Kunisada (Toyokuni III) 歌川国貞 (3代豊国)  234–237 Utagawa, Kuniyoshi 歌川国芳  238–239 Velazquez, Diego  116 Vermeer, Johannes  2, 49, 83–84, 90–93, 107 Verspronck, Johannes  115 Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland  131 Visscher, Jan de  44 Visscher, Johanna de  44 Voragine, Jacobus de  61

index Vos, Cornelis de  117 Vos, Jan  101–102 Vos, Susanna de  117 Washinoo, Takayasu 鷲尾隆康  211n7 Washizaki, Suzue 鷲崎鈴江  257, 259 Watanabe, Jōkei 渡辺浄慶  19 Watarai, Naokata 度会直方  230 Wildens, Jan-Baptist  123n47 William I van Oranje  22 Winterhalter, Franz-Xaver  131 Witte, Emanuel de  87 Wittewrongel, Petrus  23–24 Wu, Mei-ling 呉梅嶺  255 Xu You (Jp: Kyoyū) 許由  13 Yamada, Shinkichi 山田新吉  254–255 Yamaguchi, Soken 山口素絢  17–18 Yamamoto, Isokazu 山本磯一  255–256 Yamamoto, Yūzō 山本有三  257n17 Yamasaki, Konshō 山崎坤象  273–274 Yamasaki, Takeo 山崎丈夫  256 Yamazaki, Iemori 山崎家盛  212 Yan hui (Jp: Gankai) 顔回  13 Yang, Chian-ho 楊千鶴  282–283, 286 Yang, San-lang 楊佐三郎 (Yō, Saburō 楊三郎)  255 Yano, Yachō 矢野夜潮  242–244, 247 Yasuhime (Princess Yasu), daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, Shogun of Japan 泰姫  211 Yeh, Hou-cheng 葉火城 (Hayasaka, Yoshihiro 早坂吉弘)  263n29 Yō, Saburō 楊三郎 (Yang, San-lang 楊佐三郎)  255 Yōhime (Princess Yō), daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, Shogun of Japan 溶姫  211 Yokoyama, Kazan 横山華山  200 Yoshida, Motoshige 吉田元鎮  202 Yūkō (Hōgen) 祐孝(法眼)  154n27 Yun, Hyo-jung 윤효중 尹孝重  309 Zhou, Hung-chou 周紅綢  255, 280 Zoffany, Johann  127