Tibet and Japan

I have long noticed a certain similarity between the art of Tibet and Japan. Although there are significant differences, you can immediately see the close relationship of the Tibetan and Chinese art pictured here. The important points of correspondence are: the use of textile patches juxtaposed with bare areas of flesh, which is unshadowed and white. Notice in the Tibetan painting how the pattern of the background becomes intermingled with the textile patterns worn by the figures. The composition is composed of discrete shapes. When looked at from a certain perspective, they become abstract. This property is emphasized even more in the Japanese print. I count about 6 or 7 different patterns in the central mass of textiles; it is hard to tell if some patterns are fading permutations or two different patterns in their own right. Look at the detail of the Tibetan painting and notice how many different patterns are juxtaposed within this small detail. If you count the body itself as a pattern, there are at least 10 separate motifs in this small section.

Now look at a similar detail from the Japanese print. If you count the writing, the grass, head ornaments, etc. as equal motifs (which the composition encourages you to do)

Now these motifs are in fact occurring on a single picture plane. That is the reality. But pictorial language often assumes that some planes are behind others. Often this is an obvious trope as in a blue sky and green grass being behind central figures. In the Tibetan painting the back plane is the crimson swirls, but when you look at a detail, you no longer feel that this illusion is important , and you are encouraged to see every window of pattern on the same plane. In both paintings it often becomes unclear which plane is in front of which, and a raw pattern of abstraction emerges in which pattern is no longer connected to function.

One other aspect needs to be discussed here and that is symmetry. The Japanese print is studiously asymetrical, whereas the Tibetan painting is dead-on symmetrical, which to our Western eyes feels a bit "boring." It doesn't feel "real" and it would certainly break all the conventional rules of Western composition before, say, 1950.
In addition, I have framed the Tibetan painting in a way that makes it seem more modern. The original painting has a very large halo behind the central group of figures, which, come to think of it, is an awful lot like that umbrella in the Japanese print.

European and Persian painting

For the purposes of this discussion, I will ignore the unbelievably beautiful framing device surrounding the Persian miniature. Let me also state at the outset that I know the name of the European painter, and have all kinds of associations with the name, but even if you were to tell me the name of the Persian painter, it would just be a name with no associations other than the fact that it is a Persian name. Since this is not a famous work of this European painter, lets just take this as an example of a “typical” European-style painting, and leave the painter an anonymous representative of the larger culture. The comparison of these images immediately brings forth what is commonly, and rightly, understood to be the major difference between European and Asian art, namely that Asian art is flat on the picture plane, and European art appears three dimensional with a clear sense of perspective.

Notice the ochre accents around the figure… on the rug, hat ornament and belt tassels. The light blue on the hat is very dramatic in this palette, not occurring elsewhere in the picure. The white skin tones, which would not have this kind of force on an all-white drawing, give a very delicate feeling. Notice the light-gold bird pattern on the red garment of the figure.

Notice that the cube on which the characters sit does not conform to the perspective of the surrounding environment…perspective is implied, but not performed. By far the most effective aspect of the European painting is its use of light and shadow. The highlights on the velvet are the most dramatic use of this technique. This use of light and shadow on the velvet is quite closely observed from optical reality to the point that if we copied and pasted it into a photograph, we might not notice that the velvet was from a painting. This, however, is the only part of the picture that is remotely photographic. If you look at the trees, for instance, they are every bit as schematic as the vegetal imagery in the Persian miniature. Look closely at the figuration of the breast, neck and head area. Not even close to reality. I am not saying this as a criticism, I am merely saying that the successful illusion of light and shadow in the clothing makes us believe that the figuration of the body must be believable.

The Persian miniature, on the other hand, avoids this kind of inelegance by schematizing the figuration in the first place in a way that might be described derisively as “cartoonish.”

It is interesting to compare the light design on both images. Notice the way the clouds in the Eurpean painting become lighter in the center, and surround the main figure’s head with a white halo that is by far the brightest area of the picture. The head of the figure herself is actually quite dark in comparison, and the black head ornament further adds contrast to the white background in the immediate vicinity.

In contrast, the boy’s head, the main subject of interest in the Persian painting, is in fact the lightest part of the painting….or rather its mass is a largest non-ornamental white mass. The cups are actually whiter, and the hands are equally white.

Persian miniature and thangka

The first aspect that we notice that these works have in common is the use of a framing device that is so elaborate that it becomes the painting itself. The biggest difference is the frontal symmetry in the thangka and the studied asymmetry of the Persian miniature. In both paintings there is a main figure flanked by two other figures. There is almost no vegetal imagery in the thangka. Both works have horizontal bands as the basic compositional device of the main picture frame. There is a severer attenuation of color in the thangka that does not exist in the miniature. This is not, however, necessarily characteristic of thangkas. There is also a severe attenuation in color in the main frame of the miniature that accents the bold flowering of color in the main frame. I didn’t really notice the intensity of the red on the man’s dress on the right until many viewings.

Hiroshige and Indian Master

The diagonal sense of space in the Hiroshige is palpable. It takes us immediately into three dimensional space. The Indian print, on the other hand, pushes everything into shapes on the picture plane. Interestingly, in both images, there is a background “bass track” upon which other elements are placed, although I guess you could say that every painting could be broken down in this manner, but in these examples it is particularly clear. In the Indian print it is a green, red and black rectangular composition. In the Hokusai, it is the slow fade in the background from brown to white to blue. Notice that floral elements are important in both pictures. Notice that there is also a sense of pure space in the Indian print if you let yourself see the starry sky as a plane in the back. Writing is obviously integral to both pictures. I can understand neither the Japanese nor the Hindi. I do know that in the Hokusai it is a poem that references the ducks and relates them to human relationships…probably in a way that is uncomfortable to me…a bit twee….so it is actually better that I do not think too much about that。 Regardless of that, I can certainly appreciate the beauty of the writing itself, and the fact that it is just some short poem. This might be similar to seeing the lyrics of a favorite song written down on the page. Often lyrics just don’t matter as much as the fact that there is a person saying something in a way that blends meaningfully with the music. There is no rule that words have to say anything meaningful, at least not in art. The words in the Indian print are apparently narrating some story about this woman who gets up at night and goes to visit the lotus plant. Note how the architecture interferes and integrates with the words and how in the Hokusai the words integrate with the plant life, and almost seem to be a kind of grass..

Monet and Ni Tsan

What’s the difference? The Monet is leaning towards the photographic. Ni Tsan, the schematic. But what could possibly be more schematic than a lens? Note the way the tress are centered in the Ni Tsan. There IS light in the Ni Tsan. There ARE words on the Monet. The brush is important in both paintings. In some ways the entire subject of the Monet is the shadow cast by the fence. For our Western eyes, this makes it a complete and satisfying painting.