Hon’ami Kōetsu (1558-1637) was a Renaissance man of sorts, as he excelled in the fields of calligraphy, printing, lacquerware, and tea utensils. After centuries of warfare and uncertainty, Japan turned into an isolated country with a rigid social structure, but transition between the two allowed for remarkable fluidity, calm, and cultural flourishing. Kōetsu lived during this time of experimentation and innovation, developing a unique relationship between words and visuals exhibited in his poem cards, or shikishi. He achieves a state where calligraphy, pattern, and image cease to be identified as such and form a unique whole. For one instant, a brushstroke of calligraphy becomes a blade of pampas grass, a bush clover leaf, or a falling cherry blossom.

The character in the center of this poem card is the “but mine” (literally “for myself”) part of the poem. Kōetsu was the calligrapher and artistic director for this set of shikishi, but he laid his brush over the silver and gold designs of Tawaraya Sōtatsu and paper made by Kamishi Sōji. Sōtatsu’s brushstrokes were originally a bright silver and oxidized over time to a dark blue, an effect which may have been intentional. Kōetsu collaborated with the most prominent and talented craftsmen of the time, becoming part of a market that catered to the warrior elite. He advised wealthy families on interior design, hosted tea gatherings for respected tea masters, and mingled with other printers and calligraphers.

When Christian missionaries introduced the movable-type printing technique a few years before Kōetsu was born, the printing process became faster and more efficient. The literature that had been available to the elite few was now circulating among a wider audience, as Kōetsu and his contemporaries were involved in the design and publication of classical literature and Nō libretti. For his shikishi, Kōetsu chose poetry from the classical anthologies that were compiled several centuries before his time. Both visually and thematically, he harkens back to the Heian period, when decorated poetry was a form of social communication among the elite. The essence of his work is rooted in the past, seeped in contemporary innovations, and utterly timeless.

Degas’ bathers were revolutionary in their stylistic and conceptual approach to the female form, following a long tradition of nudes in Western art history. Degas strips them of the recognizable characteristics of sensuality, which are even more glaring in their absence, because the women do not seek invite the viewers attention and are not surrounded by props that enhance their seductive qualities. Instead, Degas chooses to depict bathing as an ordinary activity, where the viewer is “looking through the keyhole.” Ironically, he was often accused of misogyny because he didn’t give women the sex appeal they were used to. Although his bathers exhibit a highly personal style and an innovative compositional sense, Degas took his inspiration from a wide variety of sources, including the realistic lines of Ingres, japanese woodblock prints, and the emerging art of photography.

Suzuki Kiitsu’s gilded folding screen comes from the Rinpa school tradition that emerged during Edo Japan, seeking to revive the traditional painting style of earlier times. Many Rinpa artists were also involved in the textile industry, so their work has a highly decorative quality that could be applied to an emerging mass market. The Rinpa school was never closely united and continued to extend to the 19th century, when Kiitsu developed an even more stylized approach.

Caillebotte eventually gave up painting entirely to pursue his passion for boating, but, for a time, the two merged to create a unique world of innovative color and ambiguous perspective. His family owned property in the Yerres region, where the river provided a setting for socializing and the development of boating as a popular pastime. Boating was actually one of the traditions that the French adopted from the English during a time when Anglomania was sweeping across France.
An essay about Callebotte’s oarsmen: >>>

Mokuan Reien is one of the most respected early Zen painters, and his work is distinct in both style and subject matter compared to later Zen works. He was trained near Kamakura, the capital that had the support of the shogunate, and he traveled through China for more than twenty years. Unlike other painters who were influenced by Chinese texts and paintings that hung on the walls of the monasteries, Mokuan was invariably immersed in Chan belief and culture, and, as a result, transmitted this influence through his work. In his Hotei paintings, he depicts the Chinese monk of the tenth century who gained legendary status after his death and became a popular subject for Zen painters. Mokuan is often associated with the Chinese painter Muqi because of their strikingly similar painting style: dry brushstrokes counterbalanced with a few strong ink lines that echo Southern Song “apparition painting.”

Fūgai, a Zen painter who lived during the early Edo period, represents a different lifestyle and approach to painting. Instead of traveling through China, Fūgai spent most of his life wandering around the Japanese countryside, and spent many years living in a cave near a remote village. He did not display his paintings on the walls of temples, but left them outside his cave for villagers to take in exchange for rice. His Hotei Wading a Stream still depicts the same strong outline of Mokuan’s stick, but the rest of the brushstrokes are clearly meant to be seen as marks of ink. Fūgai displays these marks as though they are solely responsible for conveying his message, and offers a view into his own visualization, while Mokuan relies on the conviction of past masters to legitimize his work.

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In Luncheon of the Boating Party, Renoir’s circle of friends sit on the balcony of the riverside restaurant Fournaise, where many boaters, writers, models, and art enthusiasts gathered in the summer. The group looks so homogenous that it’s hard to discern the different classes and occupations, from the proprietor, Alphonse Fournaise, to Gustave Caillebotte, who both wear the straw hats and white shirts attributed to boaters. Caillebotte was not only a well-known painter in his own right but an avid boater as well. Ironically, Renoir creates the tigh-knit and festive atmosphere by giving each member a different line of vision, and as individuals they seem to be absorbed in their own thoughts.
Identification of each member of the party: >>>

Caillebotte presents a different kind of occasion in Luncheon, where his mother and brother René dine in silence, attended by their butler. The Caillebotte family was well-off, but, at this point, had to sort out their finances after the death of Gustave’s father. René was particularly good at reckless spending. Caillebotte always creates an unusual perspective that makes the viewer’s involvement ambiguous, and, here, the plate in the foreground suggests that he himself sits at the table. Callebotte’s paintings seem to grow out of that play in perspective, making it hard to judge whether family tensions are involved in Luncheon. The colors may not be as bright and flashy as Renoir’s, but the dynamics and perspective are no less innovative.

Bazille and Camille is a study for Monet’s Luncheon on the Grass, which was less successful than its provocative counterpart and was left unfinished. The study, on the other hand, could be a painting on its own, as Monet’s brushwork and composition bears none of the stiffness that characterizes his intended product.

Delacroix, like many Europeans during the 19th century, was dazzled by the exotic aesthetic of the Orient, a place that existed in the imaginations of those who wanted to be seduced by the unfamiliar patterns, fabrics, and people. For Delacroix, the Orient allowed him to satisfy his curiosity and romantic notion of design without any comparison to previous visual conventions. For the French viewer who had never been to any of the countries that constituted the Orient, the paintings would, as Cézanne describes it, “flow into the eye like wine down the throat and one is intoxicated.”

Delacroix accompanied the diplomat Charles de Mornay to Morocco, and, reportedly, was allowed to visit a harem in the city of Algiers. Of course, his Women of Algiers in their Apartments depicts European-looking women as though they were the fruits and flowers of a still life, and some think that oriental art reflects the colonialist mentality. On a more basic level, however, the inaccessibility of the Orient was erotic, mysterious, and simply different.

Suno’s Spring/Summer ’09 collection is a modern-day collaboration between New York artists and Kenyan craftsmen and women. The materials and patterns come from the City and travel to Kenya, where small workshops turn them into one of a kind pieces.

Fragonard’s The Swing is perhaps a little too sugary-sweet for our taste, reminding us of the extravagance that defines the Rococo era of 18th century France. Looking beyond the layers of pink ruffle, however, reveals how this particular style fit in with social conventions characteristic of the time. Swinging was associated with play in the context of love and the elaborate game of courtship, and it gave new freedom to the meaning of flirting and frivolity within the strict social codes of conduct. The swing was a metaphor for the fickle nature of women, for example, and the shoe flying off the bare foot had obvious sexual connotations. The man looking up the woman’s skirt (getting a peek was part of the point) was none other than the patron who commissioned this painting, the Baron de Saint-Julien, or the Reciever-General of the French Clergy. The woman swinging is his mistress and the man pulling the swing is meant to be a bishop. Even though this would have hung in the Baron’s private petite-maison, or pleasure house, Fragonard toned down some of the more explicit details that the Baron had originally requested, such as the recognizability of the figures. There were, after all, limits to this French Clergyman a sense of humor.
More about The Swing

Bonnard’s France-Champagne was his first poster that kicked off his career as an artist and his involvement in the graphic arts during the 1890’s. He received 100 francs for his work, convincing him to quit his career aspirations as a lawyer and concentrate on being an artist. Japanese prints were undoubtedly an inspiration, but, more than that, he came up with a unique style that complemented the emergence of large-scale advertising and avante-garde climate of art world. He even introduced Toulouse-Lautrec to his printer, and Lautrec went on to develop a successful lithographic style that is rooted in Bonnard’s aesthetic.

Gustave Caillebotte’s Young Man at His Window features the back view of his brother, René, as he overlooks the street from the family apartment on rue de Miromesnil. Caillebotte was reasonably wealthy, as his address suggests, and pursued other interests such as gardening and yachting during and after his painting career. Even though he was an integral member of the Impressionists and mingled with some of the most prominent artists of the time, his work stands out from the rest. He did not experiment with loose brushstrokes, but innovated through cut-off compositions and unusual viewpoints, creating a mysterious and subtle atmosphere for the Parisian flaneur.

At first glance, Giacomo Balla’s Girl on a Balcony looks like an assemblage of colorful fragments, but, in fact, represents a human figure in motion across the canvas. Balla was a member of the Futurists, a short-lived, Italian movement that sought to depict the “invisible, impalpable, imponderable, imperceptible,” as stated in their 1915 manifesto. Their efforts to produce an entirely modern aesthetic lead them to deconstruct form in a way that expressed motion and speed in the purest sense.

More about Giacomo Balla

Arkhip Kuindzhi’s moonlit pools of light, intense sunsets, and forests at high noon marked a significant break from the Russian Realist school, which was conservative by most modern standards and was seeped in literary thought and ideology. Kuindzi’s work is, therefore, more compatible with other Western movements, because his landscapes explore aspects of painting that were not tied to any social or political commentary. However, unlike his contemporaries the Impressionists, he depicts light with finite brushstrokes and treats it as a concrete entity. The contrasts of light and shadow speak for themselves and become as palpable as the surrounding mountains or still waters.

Constable’s Edge of a Heath by Moonlight doesn’t use the same meticulous brushstrokes he applied to his signature views of the English countryside, but captures the indistinct forms of moonlit haze. Throughout his career, he sought to portray atmosphere in its purest form through an almost scientific precision in regard to technique and observation. Nonetheless, there is that certain quality to his work that transcends representation, as he himself comments that “my limited and abstracted art is to be found under every hedge, and in every lane, and therefore nobody thinks it worth picking up.”

Now I know how deep
are the colors of your goodwill
and of the blossoms
that one so desired
in the lingering snow.

— Socho

Michael Kenna describes Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, as “cold, expansive, solitary, white, graphic,” and his photographs embody these qualities in the distinct silhouettes, efficient compositions, and selection of tones. He creates a dialogue between positive and negative space, where barren trees give life to white surroundings and objects become landscapes within themselves. It is rare to see photographers trust their subjects by humbly devoting their vision solely to what they see, and Kenna always describes his process in palpable terms. His outlines capture the immediate experience of standing in this black and white world, as we, too, observe quietly.

Site to visit: www.michaelkenna.net

Although Corot has been hailed as the father and inspiration for the Impressionists, he never wanted to impress the viewer by shocking shades of color. Instead, he sought to produce a “harmony of the tones” that made up an overall atmosphere, which had its roots in the landscape schools of the past. Perhaps his style is too bucolic and old-fashioned from a modern perspective, but his best work includes the subtle play of earthy tones and dream-like touches of light that were hailed as timeless by later generations.
More about Corot’s landscapes: query.nytimes.com

Kawase Hasui’s Starry Night at Miyajima follows the shin hanga movement of the 19th century, which sought to continue the ukiyo-e printmaking tradition that flourished during Edo period Japan. Hasui’s style is more intimate that his predecessors, as his compositions are more focused, there few figures in his prints, and he explores light and atmosphere. In that sense, the shin hanga style brings with it a subtle acknowledgment of the popularity and Western fascination with the original Japanese printmaking movement.
More about Kawase Hasui: www.viewingjapaneseprints.net

After the overwhelming success of his first poster for the Parisian actress Sarah Bernhardt, Mucha produced countless prints, paintings, and posters that elaborated on the style that later became known as Art Nouveau. The ornamental patterns and distinct silhouettes were perfect for advertising, while the fluid lines drew a massive following. The commercial and decorative nature of most of his art makes it less rooted in any specific association, as it becomes more a part of popularized iconography.