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A certain independence of spirit
Japanese fan paintings
by Anna Beerens
The fan has been part of Japanese culture for some 1500 years. The uchiwa 団扇,
the round, flat fan with a handle, is of Chinese origin and was introduced in Japan during the sixth century. The folding fan (ōgi 扇), however, is a rarity in the history of cultural exchange between China and Japan: it is actually a Japanese invention! It developed in Japan during the seventh century and was subsequently exported to the Chinese mainland. The fan was (and, despite the introduction of air conditioning, still is) a highly valued tool during the humid and oppressive Japanese summers. The fact that traditional architecture provided little privacy probably also contributed to the popularity of what could be seen as a personal portable ‘screen’. A fan is intimate and revealing at the same time; it gives comfort and pleasure to the person who uses it, but it also divulges his or her tastes and circumstances. In Japan it has always been considered a powerful status marker and an ideal vehicle for display and expression.
Decorating a folding fan poses several challenges. The painter has to deal with – or tastefully ignore – its curved shape and the effect of radiance caused by the way it is mounted on its sticks. Furthermore, there should be a certain logic to the design when the fan is opened from right to left. A fan is not a hanging scroll or a ‘real’ screen; the painter can therefore use a lighter touch, be somewhat less aloof. On the other hand, the design should not be flimsy, but strong enough to give enduring satisfaction to the fan’s user and send ‘the right messages’ to the user’s environment.
Now, what would these messages have been in the case of a folding fan decorated in the nanga style? In order to answer this question we should first explore what nanga actually stood for. Literally the term nanga 南画 means ‘Southern painting’. It is a Japanese abbreviation of the Chinese nanzhong hua (南宗画, Jap. nanshūga), ‘painting in the Southern style’. It is important to realize that ‘Southern’ – and, for that matter, ‘Northern’ – does not refer to anything geographical. The use of ‘Southern’ and ‘Northern’ to describe two fundamentally different approaches to painting originated in the circle of the Chinese painter, calligrapher and art theorist Dong Qichang (1555-1636). In order to clarify the development of an ‘impressionist’ and a ‘realist’ style of painting, Dong and his friends used an analogy from the world of chan (禅, Jap. zen) buddhism that is summarised by the dictum: ‘sudden South, gradual North’ (南頓北漸, Chin. nandun beijian, Jap. nanton hokuzen). In the chan/zen tradition too this has little to do with actual geography, but refers to the two
different ways of reaching Enlightenment: either suddenly and unexpectedly, or gradually after long years of patient meditation. The art theorists of the Ming period (1368-1644) considered this an appropriate parallel to denote the difference between the painter who, on the spur of the moment, gave a highly individual and inspired rendering of his subject, and the painter who studied long and worked painstakingly in order to achieve a perfect likeness. Although the Ming theorists were aware that a rigid dichotomy was debatable, by and large they saw professional painters as the ‘Northern realists’, whereas educated officials for whom art was a leisure activity (文人, Chin. wenren, Jap. bunjin) were seen as the ‘Southern impressionists’. ‘Painting in the literati style’ (文人画, Chin. wenrenhua, Jap. bunjinga) became a synonym for ‘Southern-style painting’ (nanga).
In Japan the fall of the Ming dynasty in 1644 and the subsequent influx of a considerable number of Chinese refugees led to an upswing in the study of Chinese art and scholarship. The discussion and assimilation of the latest Chinese insights brought about an intellectual and creative outburst the resonance of which would be felt throughout the eighteenth century. The ideas of the Ming art theorists were part of it all. Many Japanese painters, both professionals and non-professionals, were inspired by the spontaneity and individuality of the Chinese ‘Southern-style’. They took the professional/amateur dichotomy in their stride; the leisured elite that the Chinese theorists associated with nanzhong hua did not exist in Japan anyway. What mattered was not whether one should or should not sell one’s work, but one’s artistic integrity – the importance of maintaining a certain independence of spirit. The fact that much of what the Japanese nanga painters did would not have been recognized as nanzhong hua by their Chinese counterparts did not bother them very much either. The Chinese example, whether properly understood or not, gave them creative force – a ‘new vision’, as Stephen Addiss put it. Significantly, they found their very own ‘Northern’ opposites in the artists of the Kanō and Tosa schools, who, it was felt, had become bogged down in empty formalism. The knowledge that these were the preferred styles of the shogun, the provincial lords (daimyō) and the imperial court gave an anti-establishment touch to their standpoint.
The user of a fine nanga folding fan would have it all to himself: the eloquence of brushwork and ink tones; the subtle use of colour; a landscape to explore (a glimpse of an idealized China) or the simple dignity of orchids or bamboo; a deeply personal rendering of familiar objects or an empathetic expression of a fleeting moment. At the same time the people around him could admire his modern, sophisticated taste – or condemn him for his daring. We can be sure that the messages of independence and individualism were registered and understood.
By the end of the eighteenth century the novelty and radicalism had worn off, but the individualism remained a hallmark of the nanga style. This is probably why it continues to fascinate today. The nanga folding fan has the additional attraction of its quaint and challenging shape. Its most enganging feature, though, must be that it could actually be held and be used and cherished.
1 Compare Lowe, Japanese Crafts, New York 1983, p. 54: “Perhaps the folding fan once gave the Japanese the same sense of security that dark glasses give to some people today”.
2 See Kurt A. Gitter, Japanese fan paintings from Western Collections, New Orleans, 1985 pp. 7-8.
3 For an extensive discussion of the development of the North/South dichotomy in China see Susan Bush, The Chinese literati on painting: Su Shih (1037-1101) to Tung Ch’i-ch’ang (1555-1636), Cambridge Mass., 1971, chapter 5.
4 Stephen Addiss, Japanese quest for a new vision, the impact of visiting Chinese painters, 1600-1900, Lawrence, 1986. Excellent information about the context and practice of eighteenth century nanga can be found in Felice Fischer & Kyoko Kinoshita, Ike Taiga and Tokuyama Gyokuran, Japanese masters of the brush, New Haven/London 2007.
5 See Yoshiho Yonezawa & Chu Yoshizawa, Japanese painting in the literati style, New York/Tokyo, 1974, chapter 6.


As a little extra, we would like to announce a book on the East Asian zodiac, which will be released soon. In this book you will find the New Year cards from over a period of 36 years of Oranda Jin. They are completed with prints of the elements.
Louise de Blécourt, entree fourth Dan calligrapher, has created the corresponding calligraphies of both the animals and the elements in the 4 variant styles: Kaisho, Sosho, Seal script and Gyosho.
It has become a surprising combination to see the calligraphic characters facing the pages with the prints. So it has also just become a beautiful book to flip through.
Professor Willem van Gulik has written down the history and stories surrounding these animals in a pleasantly readable way, along with an extensive explanation of the role of the elements and the zodiac in timekeeping.
Stephen Addiss, well known for his books on calligraphy, Nanga and Haiga in his article sheds light on the meaning of calligraphy in contemporary Japan
In a limited edition of 200 numbered and signed copies of both the English edition “The Magnificent Twelve” as well as the Dutch “De twaalf uit het Oosten” can be ordered with us, orandajin@home.nl, or with Louise, louise.de.blecourt@me.com. The price is € 29,50. If you wish to receive them by mail please add € 10,- within The Netherlands (max 2 copies per package) and € 20,- per book outside The Netherlands.














