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.

In the best poems you should use plain language but get away from plainness. You must employ ordinary terms but leave ordinariness behind.

— Yosa Buson

Buson’s paintings reflect so many different styles of brushwork, that it would be hard to find a common thread between all of his work. But perhaps this is exactly what defines his art, and makes him, admittedly, a frustrating subject to study. He was immersed in all of the traditions and trends of painting and writing that were available in Edo. Beginning with his studies of poetry among the followers of Basho, he developed a reverence for the poet that resonated in his illustration of Oku no hosomichi, echoing the narrative element of yamato-e.

Buson went on a similar journey himself, and even responded to Basho in his own poetry:

Basho:
This road—
No one is on it;
The autumn evening.

Buson:
Loneliness too
Has its joy;
The autumn evening.

Buson was always connected to the tangible, striking that invisible balance between the ordinary and the subtly suggestive, as his painting reflects both Zen ideals and the most secular of literati styles. He was a part of the bunjin group of literati artists that took their inspiration heavily from China, even though Japan was, interestingly enough, cut off from outside sources at the time. Instead of trying to emulate Chinese works like most Japanese artists did, Buson produced paintings that were still his own distinct vision, such as his Landscape, a monochrome ink painting with a few silver touches, accompanied by the inscribed words of Yu Ji.

Perhaps his attention to words and brushstrokes compelled him to make haiga as the culmination for his reverence of both disciplines. However, as each expressed what the other could not, haiga reached yet another level of perception. Rock Haiga combines the wabi aesthetic, as the rocks are few dabs of ink, as well as echoes of Zen, which he would have certainly been aware of. Buson was not influenced by any particular style, but rather absorbed them all with the pure appreciation of the brushstroke.

From the palace of Emperor Saga to the streets of Beijing, it is interesting to see how calligraphy and ink painting has changed and endured throughout the centuries. Saga’s brushstrokes commemorate the death of Saicho, as they owe their existence, in a large part, to Saicho’s influence. As a Japanese monk who traveled to China in the early 9th century, Saicho brought back Chinese aesthetics and ideas that permeated the Japanese court, institutions, and art.

Zen painting and calligraphy predominantly became the practice of monks who associated it with Zen in one way or another, so there is a tendency to look at their brushstrokes as independent entities as if we are somehow taking part in the enlightenment of the monks themselves. Looking at brushstrokes without understanding the context in which they were put down on paper leads to only superficial appreciation. We might not realize that they were not intended to carry Zen spirit, as is the case with Soga Shohaku’s Daruma. Shohaku produced many detailed paintings quite unlike his Daruma that were more indicative of the style of the Edo period during which he lived, but he also looked to the brushwork of previous Zen painters of the Muromachi period.

Through out the history of Zen brushstrokes, there has been the tension of looking back to the work of previous masters and developing new meaning for ink on paper. Perhaps one of the most interesting personages is Nakahara Nantenbo, whose attitude and accomplishments ushered the transition from Zen painting from the Edo period into the 20th century. His belief in strict practice, known by his use of a stick as part of his teaching methods, was more indicative of his passion for Zen and its transmission. He was an activist who spoke strongly against Zen becoming associated with secular actions by advocating against the building of an extravagant Zen center, and the organization of monk prestige according to wealth. He was into his fifties when he learned calligraphy, and it became and integral part of his practice, as he believed that it must be done with the Zen spirit in mind. He never mentioned the beauty and elegance of his brushstrokes, talking only of the speed with which he could produce pages of calligraphy. When others criticized him for his One Stroke Daruma because it couldn’t be identified as such, he said, “Very Interesting. People talk as if they have seen Daruma, but who has seen the original Daruma?” His brushstrokes are sometimes described as blunt and rough, but they have to be seen as the embodiment of his own vision and his experience with going from monastery to monastery at the turn of the century.

For more about Nantenbo, read about him in Art of 20th century Zen by Stephen Addiss, or visit: http://kc-shotokan.com/Essays/nantenbo.htm

Today, traces of ink are found on ivory silk dresses, sidewalks, and in documentaries. Jayson Brunsdon’s spring collection hints at these influences but thoroughly incorporates them into his own modern take.

Although it will not be mainstream and might be hard to get, there is talk of a documentary about calligraphy. Read more about it.