questions

there are several things that i wonder about in the japanese culture i see in the prints. for example, why are the mirrors so often draped? is it merely (merely?) for decoration?











another thing i wonder about is those obi 'bows' in the back. it looks to me like they either make a woman look hunch-backed or thick-waisted. since neither are at all preferable in western culture (whereas the 'big behind' of a bustle might be), what am i not understanding?

and the last thing here... the one i'm most curious about of all, is this: why do these women take their clothing into their mouths so often?

now, if they are washing their hands, or even preparing their swords (!) and need to get those voluminous sleeves out of the way, i could understand. if they are in a rather intimate situation and are holding tissues, that i understand as well.

but these women do it much more often than that. is it instead of smoking? i have done it when i was scared. is it again with the modesty, like how a japanese woman will cover her mouth when she laughs (or we when we yawn)?

in any case, these questions will stay out there (i might post more examples) until someone with actual knowledge (or a damn good story) comes along!

in the street of persimmon

i will begin this post geographically rather than chronologically. david lance goines, as i have mentioned before, lives and works here in berkeley, and one sees his posters everywhere.

then one day i was looking at the mfa's fine collection of japanese postcards, and i came across this one, which looked like one of those 'direct link' kind of things with david's work.

studying these, and a number of the older woodblock prints from japan, i realized that while it was clear that the practice of outlining in this way originated in the japanese prints, one development added as it evolved into art nouveau was that the line thickened. the postcard is easily from after this had happened.

the rest was more or less stream of con- scious- ness.



but then i came across another print, this time of a wigmaker.

and her kimono reminded me of this stencil design for a kimono that i had found.

and wouldn't you know it,








the kimono design reminded me of another david lance goines poster.

(inspiration)

cats is the funniest people

SLEEPING WITH CATS

I am at once source
and sink of heat: giver
and taker. I am a vast
soft mountain of slow breathing.
The smells I exude soothe them:
the lingering odor of sex,
of soap, even of perfume,
its afteraroma sunk into skin
mingling with sweat and the traces
of food and drink.

They are curled into flowers
of fur, they are coiled
hot seashells of flesh
in my armpit, around my head
a dark sighing halo.

They are plastered to my side,
a poultice fixing sore muscles
better than a heating pad.
They snuggle up to my sex
purring. They embrace my feet.

Some cats I place like a pillow.
In the morning they rest where
I arranged them, still sleeping.
Some cats start at my head
and end between my legs
like a textbook lover. Some
slip out to prowl the living room
patrolling, restive, then
leap back to fight about
hegemony over my knees.

Every one of them cares
passionately where they sleep
and with whom.

Sleeping together is a euphemism
for people but tantamount
to marriage for cats.
Mammals together we snuggle
and snore through the cold nights
while the stars swing round
the pole and the great horned
owl hunts for flesh like ours.

ⓒ Marge Piercy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (etc.)

Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

HAD I the heavens’
embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden
and silver light,

The blue and the dim
and the dark cloths

Of night and light
and the half light,

I would spread the cloths
under your feet:

But I, being poor,
have only my dreams;








I have spread my dreams
under your feet;

Tread softly because
you tread on my dreams.

W.B. Yeats The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899

thirty-six views of notre dame?

we have talked about the japanese custom of producing prints in series; both hokusai and hiroshige produced, among others, 'thirty-six views of mt. fuji.'

henri riviere went on to follow that mode with his own 'thirty-six views' -- this time of the eiffel tower.

today i happened across what i think is another set: 'thirty-six views of notre dame,' though i can find no reference to it as such.

nevertheless, the series follows all of the conventions of the japanese prints, the diagonal lines, the large foreground framing objects, the outlines, and, most important of all, the appearance of the supposed 'view' almost disappearing in some of them.

the printmaker this time is czech artist tavik františek šimon, a painter who moved to paris, travelled the world, and signed his name in the japanese style as did his comtemporaries.

a wonderful, quite thorough, website about him has been created; in it all of his work beyond prints -- he was a painter, primarily (but i love his prints!) -- , his contemporaries so one can see context, articles and reviews of his work, his family, and more.

i've only found twenty-six 'views of notre dame' on the graphics pages of this site, and some of my identi- fications may be flawed, but i can't believe that this is a coincidence, and that these happen to have been created simply by random chance, when they so easily fit the form.

(more)

the floating world of paris

you would think this would be obvious, but isn't it neat how when you begin to study something you actually learn new things. i'm reading a book at the moment, japan, france, and east-west aesthetics, by jan walsh hokenson. in it she explores a much broader palatte as to how japonisme was made visible in all of the arts, not just the visual ones, and in thought itself.

this book is one of the reasons i've been introducing glimpses into the writing of the authors whose work she explores as being of that bunch. as i read more, i'll be able to post more substantive things rather than just topical quotes. the tough part is finding great translations (in her book all of the translations for the french are in the back of the book, which makes me a little crazy). so. one step at a time.

but another topic she addresses is the fact that yet another facet of the japanese work was embraced by the westerners: who, and what, was painted. these are not girls you would bring home to mother.

utamaro's courtesans and toulouse- lautrec's prostitutes, while probably not sharing the same status in society, do in fact share the same profession. as do the geisha, the kabuki star, loie fuller, and sarah bernhardt. this is the floating world; this is glitter beyond reality, where every face is painted, and every gown dazzles.

fortunately, this is not an isolated incident of this bit of observation: i found a phenomenal website with much enlightenment on the period, its causes, its crazes, and even with a poem by honor moore about the lautrec painting of the woman in orange.

from the website: Perhaps more than any of his peers, Lautrec’'s brilliant, fluid, economical compositions documenting the dance halls, nightclubs and bordellos of Montmartre best reflect the ukiyo-e influence in both content and technique.

poppies redux

"The common white lily which grows in Europe, and which even before the Middle Ages was regarded by the Church as emblematic of virginity, does not seem to have existed in Palestine; and when, in the Song of Songs, the mouth of the Beloved is compared to a lily, it is evidently not in praise of white, but of red lips. The plant spoken of in the Bible as the lily of the valleys, or the lily of the fields, is neither more nor less than the anemone.

"This is proved by the Abbé Vigouroux. It abounds in Syria, round Jerusalem, in Galilee, on the Mount of Olives; rising from a tuft of deeply-cut, alternate leaves of a rich, dull green, the flower cup is like a delicate and refined poppy; it has the air of a patrician among flowers, of a little Infanta, fresh and innocent in her gorgeous attire."

-- J.K. Huysmans 1


On the surface, Henry James, the fastidious American anglophile, and Pierre Loti, the Orientalist writer par excellence, could not be more different.

However ... James was drawn – ‘surrendered’ is the word he uses – to the seductive charms of Loti’s prose, which he describes as ‘poetry in observation, felicity in sadness’, which can suggest a world of meaning in the apparently simple description of a poppy. .2

The subject of poppies was a common one in French and Impressionist painting. It had recently become especially associated with Claude Monet (Les Champs de Coquelicots — Coquelicots près de Vétheuil 1880 — Coquelicots Rouges à Argenteuil), two of whose Giverny poppy field paintings of 1885 had garnered tremendous attention when they were included in the first great American show of French Impressionist art held in New York City at the American Art Association in April of 1886.

Poppies had been painted in Grez in 1885 also, by the Swedish painter, Karl Nordstrøm and the American, Theodore Robinson . And in 1886, a group of American painters, John Singer Sargent, Edwin Blashfield, Edwin Austin Abbey, and Frank Millet, were all painting poppy pictures in the art colony of Broadway in the West of England. At the same time that Vonnoh was completing Coquelicots, Childe Hassam was investigating the theme in the garden of the poet, Celia Thaxter, on the Island of Appledore off the coast of New Hampshire and Maine (Poppies, Isles of Shoals, 1891). 3


(inspiration)

muguet, for luck

i have mentioned before that despite there being no nasturtiums that i could find in any japanese art, they are one of the most popular flower images in the whole japonisme era.

another popular, if not quite as popular, flower is the lily of the valley, muguet in france, also not seen in japanese art.



well, thanks to the mfa boston, i have finally found one image of lily of the valley out of japan!














let's just say that though it was clearly done after being influenced by art nouveau, and may have even been made for export, it counts anyway!




(inspiration)