The
Demise of Japanese Painting (Nihonga) in Taiwan
Chuan-ying Yen
(Prepared for the Urban Cultural Institutions of Early Twentieth Century China symposiu, Ohio State University, April 13, 2002)
Introduction
During the period of Japanese rule in Taiwan (1895-1945), the Japanese transplanted new fashions in art as well, mainly in the areas of Western-style painting and Japanese painting (Nihonga). Of these, Western painting received more emphasis. Art education in the primary and secondary schools of the time put greater emphasis on basic training in Western art, and there were comparatively fewer channels for learning Japanese painting. Meanwhile, the officially sponsored annual Taiwan Art Exhibition (or Taiten), starting from its inception in 1927, set up two painting categoriesXthe Oriental painting (tôyôga) division and Western painting divisionXwith the intent of promoting the development of Japanese painting in Taiwan under the name of Oriental painting, a catch-all term. However, the development of Japanese painting in Taiwan encountered great difficulties, to the point that critics were already speaking of the decline or demise of Japanese painting in 1942. The purpose of this essay is not to deny completely the influence that Japanese painting had in Taiwan but to focus on the contradictions, even the ironies, of the attempts to foster the development of Japanese painting in Taiwan. It seeks to elucidate certain aspects of Japanese painting in colonial Taiwan by discussing the promotion of local color, the performance of artists and judges in the Japanese painting division of the Taiten, attempts by Taiwanese artists to study Japanese painting and the difficulties these artists encountered.
From exotic tastes to local colors
On January 22, 1925, the president of Tokyo School of Art, Masaki Naohiko (1862-1940), gave a lecture, entitled “Exotic Tastes and the Culture of the Motherland, at Taipei Governor-General Business Academy.” He said:
What is it when we speak of exotic tastes? It refers to whatever is alien to our eyes when we leave our native country and go to other countries. This includes everything natural and manmade--landscapes, for instance, or plants and animals, or historical geography, and even customs, art, music, daily life, foods and beverages, etc.--all the things never experienced in our homeland. A fortunate person travels to other lands, according to his own likes, and feels excited at the sight of novel things. He immediately studies these interesting things, carefully appreciates them, and personally experiences them once. After he experiences and tries them, he will not cherish it because it is his own but will bring the experience back home. This is to give the motherland a souvenir that enriches the motherlands culture. Only the cultured citizens of advanced nations can bring enriched, exotic tastes back with them. I think that having enriched, exotic tastes is [a mark of] the worlds superior races.
Masaki Naohiko also mentioned as a counterexample the Chinese manual laborers who traveled throughout the world in droves but showed little concern for any environment, wanting only to earn money, and he claimed that they could not do anything to improve Chinese culture as a result. By contrast, the Japanese showed interest in alien cultures, gathered souvenirs and brought them back to Japan, thereby enriching Japanese culture. This indicated to Masaki that the Japanese were one of the worlds superior races. For us, two aspects of Masakis speech deserve notice. On the one hand, his encouragement to the young people present to gather or record exotica was based on a practical consideration: to enrich the nation and its people. On the other hand, he displayed an overweening pride in the superiority of Japans national culture. On the evening of his lecture, two alumni of the Tokyo School of Art, Shiotsuki Tôho (1885-1954; 1921-45 in Taiwan) and Gôhara Kotô (1887-1965; 1919-36 in Taiwan), came to greet him. Shiotsuki gave him two souvenirs from aboriginal tribes: a Paiwan bamboo cane and a clay figurine from the Ami people of Orchid Island. One can imagine that these also became examples of exotic tastes that Masaki Naohiko brought back to Japan.[i]
In fact, many of the Japanese painters who came to Taiwan for sightseeing in the early colonial period shared Masakis way of thinking. For instance, the best known watercolor painter in Taiwan, Ishikawa Kinichirô (1871-1945), once proclaimed that he was introducing Taiwans special qualities or southern Chinas exotic colors to the motherland[ii] (see Fig. 1: Little Stream, 1908). The aforementioned oil painter Shiotsuki painted a large work, Barbarians Dancing, that was chosen as a presentation gift for Japans crown prince during a visit to Taiwan in 1923. On the same occasion, the Nihonga painter Kinoshita Seigai (1887-1988; 1918-45 in Taiwan) presented a work, World of the Barbarians, in two scrolls.[iii] The paintings featured either the most exotic subject-matter or the kind of primitivism that would most satisfy the curiosity of a tourist.
Now that more than seventy years have passed, we cannot
help but wonder what the Business Academy students, who would become Taiwans
future leaders, thought about Masaki Naohikos speech and his exhortation to
develop the exotic interest of this colony in order to enrich the motherlands
culture. Perhaps he thought that he could excite their patriotism, but at the
same time he was also conveying the colonizers mentality of instructing
cultural difference with the colonized.
The colonial education system and even the broader cultural establishment always maintained the idea that the colonizer, Japan, was primary, and that Taiwan was secondary. Although primary schools under the colonial government introduced Taiwans local features and natural geography to a certain extent, it deliberately ignored its history and culture.[iv] If the young people who would continue growing up in Taiwan were to consider it their own responsibility to develop Taiwans exotic flavors or its colonial characteristics as a means of enriching the colonizers culture, would that not marginalize themselves and Taiwan in the service to the motherland? Nevertheless, Masakis kind of rhetoric would reappear in the first Taiten of 1927, only the term exotic tastes was changed to local color or colors of the southern state. Since the ultimate ideals of Western painting were in distant, open Europe and Japanese painting came straight from the colonizer, the dominant-submissive relationship between Japan and Taiwan was much more direct, and the demand for local color more pressing. Let us now examine how Nihonga artists in Taiwan were more assiduous than their Western painting colleagues in exploring local color, and how the resulting contradictions and ironies persisted in art circles.
Tôyôga at the Taiwanese Art Exhibition
Tôyôga (Oriental painting) is a term of mixed meaning from a particular era. The Bunten (the Ministry of Education Exhibition) and Teiten (Imperial Fine Arts Academy Exhibition ) in Tokyo had only two divisions for Japanese painting and Western-style painting--there was no division for tôyôga. When the Taiten was established in 1927, however, there was already a precedent for the tôyôga division in another Japanese colonial setting: the Chosen (Korean) Art Exhibition, first held in 1922. There the division included the traditional ink painters.[v] However, the first Chosen Art Exhibition really did include paintings of the four gentlemanly subjects and traditional landscapes. The Taiten did not: it rejected the ink painting and calligraphy tradition from the Ching dynasty and proceeded directly from Japanese painting styles. Objectively speaking, if we examine the two countries artistic environments, Korea had indeed attained a more respectable level of development in traditional ink painting and calligraphy at this time. By contrast, traditional Taiwanese painting and calligraphy were rejected because of their relatively short history and the lack of organization among the artists. Therefore, tôyôga at the Taiten was a misnomer from the start: what was actually shown in this division were paintings that exemplified modern concepts of realism and Japanese painting styles.
The Taiten’s tôyôga division has been narrowly viewed as Japanese-style art, but Japanese critics at the time, such as the connoisseur, historian and chief editor of the Chinese language pages in Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, Ôzaki (1874-1949), also held this view. Ôzaki was one of the first persons to survey Taiwans painters and calligraphers from early to modern times, and he published articles encouraging the tradition.[vi] When the Taiten was first held, he expressed anxiety about the developing direction of tôyôga. He thought that Taiwans original tradition of integrating painting and calligraphy should not be rejected, and that the development of Western-influenced painting which was guided primarily by a concern for verisimilitude was about to reach a dead end.[vii] In addition, Taiwan nichinichi shimpôs chief editor, the influential critic Ôzawa Sadayoshi (b. 1886), consistently and clearly expressed his concern about the tôyôga tradition, which included ink painting and calligraphy, whenever he wrote essays in art criticism.[viii] In response to the first Taiten, he criticized the tôyôga division for being improperly named:
It is really hard to understand why these paintings are specifically called tôyôga. Instead of calling these works tôyôga, it would be better to call them Nihonga [Japanese painting]. If one insists on calling them tôyôga, then one must include all works within the broadest meaning of Oriental style, including, for example, works on the four gentlemanly subjects [of China] or the Northern and Southern schools [of Chinese painting]. In sum, one must widely collect all works in the Oriental style beyond purely Japanese paintings before one can speak of a tôyôga division. I hope that beginning with the next Taiten careful consideration will be given to adjusting direction.[ix]
What, after all, is the relationship between Nihonga and tôyôga, Japanese and Oriental painting? The Meiji era was marked by rising Japanese ethnic and national consciousness in response to the rising power of the West. While the Japanese rapidly absorbed the influence of Western painting styles, they increasingly used the term Nihonga to refer to all the traditional schools of painting in Japan. At first, to distinguish themselves from Western artists, Japanese artists sought to recover the radiant colors of the Korin (1658-1716) school and other Yamato-e painting traditions, rejecting water-and-ink. However, by the early Showa period, a reemphasis of ink painting appeared, and the definition of Nihonga was expanded to include paintings in the Oriental style created by Japanese artists. In fact, this broader definition reflected Japanese self-assumption of leadership among Asian nations and the emergence of ultranationalistic (kokusui shugi) thinking as the Japanese empire spread into Asia.[x] In the Meiji era, the early proponent of ultranationalistic painting and East Asian expansionism was none other than the founder of the Tokyo School of Art, Okakura Kakuzô (Tenshin; 1863-1913).[xi]
In much of modern Japanese art history, many artists were simultaneously motivated by a nationalist spirit--using art to serve the country--and the notion of pulling away from Asia to embrace EuropeXstriving to advance on an equal footing with Europe or emulate its industry and science-based civilization, including its imperialistic tendencies.[xii] Thus, despite the statements that they were blending East and West in Nihonga, they were in fact using Nihonga to represent all East Asian traditions, and using new Japanese viewpoints to interpret the art of other Asian regions at the time. After the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905) and the Japanese invasions of Manchuria and the Korean peninsula, the ambition to expand outward intensified. More and more Japanese artists traveled to China to depict the scenery, and paintings that went back to Chinese traditions for relevant topics rose in popularity. Japan initiated fine arts exhibitions in its Korean and Taiwanese colonies, and leaders of the Teiten were dispatched from Tokyo to the colonies to serve as judges. During these trips, they also depicted the local scenery. However, when Japanese artists (whether they painted in the Western or Japanese style) used subject-matter from Japans Chinese or other colonies, they were only declaring Japans imperial authority.[xiii] The perspective with which they viewed Taiwan was rarely any different from Masaki NaohikosXthey were primarily searching for exotic tastes!
In the next section, I will discuss works that judges of the Taitens tôyôga division thought expressed local color. The most important of these was Gôhara Kotô (who lived in Taiwan from 1919 to 1936), followed by Kinoshita Seigai (who lived in Taiwan from 1918 to 1945) and Matsubayashi Keigetsu (1876-1963) from Tokyo. It is worth noting that the views of these judges were quite different from those of Ôzaki, whom we have mentioned above. They thought that Taiwan did not have any painting or calligraphy tradition worth speaking about when the Taiwan Exhibition was first established, and that the Taiwan Exhibition could be the vehicle for nourishing new styles of painting.
The tôyôga
judges first showing
In the first Taiten, the most noteworthy Japanese artists in the tôyôga division were the judges: Gôhara Kotô, who had graduated from the Normal Division of Tokyo School of Art in 1910 and had established residence in Taiwan, and Kinoshita Seigai, an artist of the Maruyama Sijô school who had, as mentioned earlier, presented a painting to the Crown Prince.[xiv] Most of the art teachers in Taiwans primary and middle schools at the time were practitioners of Western-style painting, not Nihonga. For those who wanted to participate in the exhibition, these two judges were naturally the most exemplary leaders to follow. And what kind of works did they themselves present? Gôhara presented a set of three works entitled Southern Charms (Fig.1) that depicted three groups of plants and animals in bright colors representative of Taiwan. Kinoshita presented a large, six-part folding screen with a bird-and-flower painting entitled Bright Sunshine (Hizakari; Fig. 4) and an ink landscape entitled Wind and Rain (Fûu; Fig. 5). The critic Ôzawa Sadayoshi, after questioning the appropriateness of the term tôyôga for this division, carefully discussed the judges works in the exhibition[xv]:
Southern Charms gathers its subject-matter from Taiwans unique birds and flowers and attempts to express a southern atmosphere with Nihonga. This is its expressive goal. They are almost entirely decorative works caught up in delicate technique. Besides its function as a decorative painting, it does not have too much artistic value. Of the two works by Kinoshita Seigai, the ink painting Wind and Rain is better.
He pointed out that Gôhara chose Taiwans distinctive birds and flowers for his subjects and captured the tropical atmosphere of the south, but as a whole, the painting was merely decorative, without too much artistic value. Only the second piece depicting the oleander was more interesting. Kinoshitas Bright Sunshine (Fig. 4) was a pair of folding screens, each with six sections, depicting birds and flowers on a gold leaf background, so the visual effect must have been equally spectacular. From another of Kinoshitas folding screens that has been preserved, Early Summer in the Southern Country (Nangoku shoka; Fig. 6), we can tell that he used a predominately red palette and an intricate arrangement of flowers and leaves to define Taiwans colors. The Tamsui landscape in Ôzawa Sadayoshis favorite, Kinoshitas Wind and Rain (Fig. 5), was continually developed by the artist later on, together with colorful bird and flower subject-matter.
Despite its lackluster critical reception, Gôhara’s screen Southern Charms was purchased by Japans Crown Prince, who was visiting Taiwan at the time, thus creating the biggest sensation at the show.[xvi] More importantly, however, its detailed techniques, brilliant colors and decorative style directly influenced many of Taiwan’s painters, such as Kuo Hsüeh-hu (b. 1908).
When the names of artists whose works were accepted for the first Taiten were announced, it caused turmoil in the artistic community, since all the Taiwan folk artists who carried on the late-Ching painting tradition were rejected. Only three young Taiwanese artists around 20 years old were accepted: Chen Chin (1907-1998), Lin Yü-shan (b. 1907), and Kuo Hsüeh-hu. Each had received complete Japanese-language education since early childhood. The first two had already spent time studying in Japan, while Kuo explored his own way by combining the study of illustrated library volumes, traditional ink painting, and the basics of Western painting.[xvii] In fact, quite a few of the artists accepted into the tôyôga division were Japanese officials and businessmen resident in Taiwan who had artistic interests and were members of amateur Japanese painting groups. Therefore, from the catalog one can find conservatively styled paintings of historical figures, genre paintings, and portraits of military men, but the traditional Taiwanese style was strictly excluded. Only after the second Taiten did the conservative Japanese artists gradually disappear in favor of practitioners of the new Nihonga style that stressed realism.
The various reports and reviews on the Taiwan Exhibitions, starting with the first, repeatedly emphasized that tôyôga had a long Japanese tradition, and that people from the homeland (Japan) consequently had a stronger foundation in it, while it was very difficult for Taiwanese people to understand. In other words, Taiwans original painting tradition from the Ching dynasty was entirely excluded. However, the reviews offered high praise for Chen Chin, who had studied at Tokyo Womens School of Art and had no less than three paintings get acceptedXmore than anyone else in the tôyôga division (Fig. 6). The anonymous Chinese review in Taiwan nichinichi shimpô clearly described the thinking among the exhibition organizers at the time[xviii]:
In general, people from the homeland excel more at tôyôga because they have worked at it longer. They also have teachers to follow. This is why their skill in matching colors, the fluidity of their brushwork, and their cleverness of composition cannot be attained by people of this island. Although Miss Chen Chin of Hsinchu alone displays unusual color for the people of this island, it is said that she followed her brothers to study abroad in the homeland. Her brush is light and her colors bright and alluring.
As critics many years later have pointed out, Chen Chins works in the first three Taiten were transitional works from her school days.[xix] However, because her works stuck closely to the rules and achieved their effects through detail and bright color, they were well-received by Gôhara Kotô, her teacher in high school.[xx] She was considered the model for all of Taiwan’s young artists. We will discuss Gôhara Kotô’s profound influence on Kuo Hsüeh-hu in a later section. However, let us next consider the issue of local color.
Shiotsuki Touhô was the first to raise the arguments about Taiwan showing the explosive vigor of its youthful period and about local color in the formal judges report of the first Taiten, but he never clearly defined what he meant by local color.[xxi] In the second Taiten, when the practice of inviting senior Nihonga judges from the Japanese Teiten began, Matsubayashi Keigetsu (1876-1963) clearly described the local goals that he thought the Taiten should develop[xxii]:
This island has much excellent subject-matter, and from now on it would be best to develop art having Taiwan’s unique color and heat. I hope that just as Tokyo, Kyoto, and Korea each has its own kind of local art, this island can also develop its local art!
Perhaps Tokyo had its local art, but it certainly was not the kind shown in the Teiten. Did Matsubayashis hope to see local Taiwanese art in the Taiten echo Masaki Naohiko’s ideas on discovering foreign tastes? Or was it more similar to that familiar slogan of the colonial government to develop agricultural Taiwan to support industrial Japan?
When Matsubayashi returned to Taiwan to judge the third Taiten, he gave a long speech in which he introduced Southern painting and the artists spiritual cultivation.[xxiii] Unfortunately, he did not publish any article containing his reflections on the third Taiten, and for the second he mentions only one painting entitled Autumn Colors in a Quiet Garden (Kantei shûshoku; Fig. 8). This painting renders a traditional topicXpine, bamboo, and plum--with emphatically precise brushwork and realistic technique, but one suspects it could not instruct Taiwanese painters on how to think about local color. In actuality, Taiwanese painters often appealed to the famous Japanese artists coming to visit Taiwan to bring their important, representative works with them, so they could study and imitate them, but their wishes were rarely satisfied.
The judges of the Western painting division also expressed arguments similar to their tôyôga colleagues. In 1935, Fujishima Takeji (1867-1943), who served as judge for the Western painting division, urged Taiwanese painters to capture accurately the colors of the tropical regions.[xxiv] Developing local or regional colors virtually became a slogan uttered by many of the painters or judges who came from Japan. Korean scholars meanwhile have pointed out that Japanese Teiten judges who took part in the judging of Korean exhibitions tended to favor folk topics or sentimental depictions of rural scenery, with the result that Korean artists vied to study the new painting styles to get accepted into the official exhibitions. The enduring positive and negative influences that this had in Korea remains a contentious issue in Korean art history even today.[xxv]
However, the appropriateness of local color in art was not unquestioned. Already in the reviews of the fourth Taiten of 1930, one critic who signed himself N sei strongly questioned the propriety of emphasizing local color[xxvi]:
Taiwan is already recognized as Taiwan in the world; its ideological trends and cultural artifacts are above the average world standard. Imperialism and proletarianism are all mixed there.
If we are still unable to become aware of the common characteristic things of our era, then how can we express specific local color? If we cannot consider such things but directly accuse artists of not expressing local color, then wouldnt it be better to settle for asking them to paint pictures of Orchid Island figurines?
For painters who cared for modernity, contemporary trends, and their accurate expression, and for painters who sought progress and were dissatisfied with the status quo, such ideas were very attractive. Why was it always necessary for painters to express nostalgia for the past, depict sentimental rural scenes, and paint in a realistic style? Understandably, the Western-style painters were much more receptive toward this way of thinking.
Although Shiotsuki Tôho, a judge for western style painting in Taiten, collected Orchid Island figurines and loved the juniper forests high in the mountains, by 1934 he also felt that he could no longer accept local color or Taiwan color as a developmental theme for the Taiten, or the idea of deliberately searching for styles different from art in exhibitions in Tokyo or elsewhere[xxvii]:
One only needs to depict Taiwanese things to give something Taiwanese color--is this way of thinking strange?
If there were special development of a Taiwanese lifestyle, perhaps we could still accept this. But nowadays, the distance between Taiwan and the world is getting smaller and smaller; the worlds trends can be learned about immediately. For young artists in particular, their training has as its foundation traditional, modern, Chinese, and foreign (Eastern and Western) painting styles. Their expressions are absolutely not limited to styles different from those in the homelands exhibitions.
In this essay, Shiotsuki clearly expressed a Taiwan-based cultural perspective. He thought that the Taiten had its own position in the world and its own independent developmental direction, and that that applied to both Western and Japanese-style paintings. However, as we shall see in the next section, Gôhara Kotô and other Japanese painters continued working hard to uncover Taiwan’s local colors.
Gôharas Efforts in Local Color: The Mountains and Seas of Taiwan Folding
Screens
Before Gôhara Kotô left Taiwan in March 1936, he had shown nine works in the Taiten. Besides the decorative bird-and-flower scenes, his most noteworthy works were a series of four giant folding screens, The Mountains and Seas of Taiwan. These were Grand Vista of Mt. Neng-kao (Nôkô taikan; Fig. 11) in the fourth Taiten of 1930, The Angry Tide of Pei-kuan (Kitaseki dochô; Fig. 12) in the fifth Taiten of 1931, Tree Spirit (Kodama; Fig. 13) in the eighth Taiten of 1934, and Inside Taroko (Nai Taroko; Fig. 14) in the ninth Taiten of 1935. Each of these consists of a pair of six-section folding screens that measure 172 cm high and 746 cm wide, and their accumulation of large quantities of detail bring out the grandeur of the natural world. Gôhara’s ambitious efforts to capture Taiwanese scenes and images in this series are truly admirable. The appearance of this variety of alpine landscape also coincided with the founding of the Taiwan Mountain Society in 1926 and the rise in popularity of hiking through the mountains and related activities. In the early years of the Taiten, Japanese artists were extremely enthusiastic about painting images of Taiwan’s mountains, which they considered representative of Japans new colony.
In comparison with Gôhara’s earlier detailed, delicate painting style, his Mountains and Seas of Taiwan series recalls the classical style of ink painting, the form of the giant folding screen, and an atmosphere of grandeur. In terms of his own career as a painter, they signaled a great advance. However, his works in this style did not win the full approval of critics at the time. For instance, writing in response to the fourth Taiten of 1930, N sei commented that viewing the first screen from a distance was not as good as examining it in close detail, which made him feel a bit of regret[xxviii]:
Mr. Gôhara’s work is an immense piece that makes the entire wall space seem too narrow. Anyone who sees it will sigh, A masterpiece on the scale of Don Quixote! I myself repeatedly examined it front and back, near and far. Although it is dynamic and powerful, the surface of the painting becomes endlessly interesting for its sculpture-like textural changes only when viewed up close. In the end, it is an incomplete exercise.
In Ôzawa Sadayoshi’s general review of the tôyôga division in the following year, 1931, Gôharas work is not mentioned.[xxix] In 1934, in his comment on Gôharas Mountains and Seas of Taiwan (Tree Spirit), Hayashi Shikanichi concluded Gôhara’s style as the diligent type (doryukuteki), and did not express full approval.[xxx]
In fact, the new 1930s generation of critics, including the oil painter Tateishi Tetsuomi (1905-1980), were not too approving of Gôharas detailed realistic style,[xxxi] but they gave high praise to Shiotsuki.[xxxii] It is interesting that Gôhara’s work was here categorized as a work of diligent type, i.e., a work exemplifying belief in the virtue of excessive attention, and that his follower, Kuo Hsüeh-hu, was described as having passion for diligent work as early as 1931.
In contrast to the staid, hardworking image of Gôhara Kotô, the second judge of the tôyôga division Kinoshita Seigai, had a multifaceted personality and was generally easy-going and sociable. Kinoshita first studied the Maruyama Sijô school in Tokyo, then studied under Takeuchi Seihô (1864-1942) in Kyoto. The keynote of his style is the highly refined technique of the Kyoto artists. Besides being one of the very few professional Nihonga artists in Taiwan, he served part-time as a representative of Tamsui district.[xxxiii]
Kinoshitas position in Taiwan’s art world remained somewhat low-key until 1936, when Gôhara returned to Japan in 1936, and it was only afterward that he began publishing essays. In his 1939 recollections, entitled The Development of Tôyôga in the Taiten, he described the idea of local color as follows[xxxiv]:
In contrast to the mostly conceptual works by Japanese, obviously the Taiwanese produce predominantly realistic works. We urge beginning learners in Taiwan to do their utmost to sketch from life. First they must sketch from life, and next they must also sketch. This is to emphasize the initial, foundational discipline. As a result, many exquisite realistic paintings appear, and the Nihonga division of the Taiten seems like an illustrated catalogue of a botanical garden. Many people wonder whether there is a problem with the instructor’s orientation. However, it is also very difficult to focus on depicting the precious flora of this special land. Every one of the judges coming from Tokyo has praised these.
In sum, Kinoshita believed this persistent realism was nothing but a method of expressing local color, and that it received the approval of judges from Tokyo. His statement that the Japanese were good at the thinking of the conceptual aspect of their compositions while the Taiwanese preferred realism reflected a common argument during the colonial era that the Japanese used their heads while painting while the Taiwanese used their hands. But weren’t the Taiwanese artists taught and guided by Nihonga teachers like Gôhara and Kinoshita in the first place? Using realistic approaches to reproduce the natural objects before ones eyes is indeed a convenient starting point for beginners, but if artists fail to cultivate the visual content and remain painstakingly at the technical level, their works become skillful but far from artistic. Today’s art educators would likely wonder, like their forerunners in the 1930s, whether the students persistent realism reflected the teachers strategies of coping with their students. In fact, the attitude among students taught by Gôhara at the Third Girls Senior High School was quite similar to that of Kinoshita Seigai--that outdoor depiction from life and realistic sketching from nature (being able, for instance, to depict a single leaf or flower) was primary.[xxxv] Nearly all the works of female artists taught by Gôhara Kotô that were shown in the Taiten were realistic paintings of plants and flowers.[xxxvi]
The critics of Kinoshita’s own time politely tried to indicate that he was making his birds and flowers too resplendent, too gaudy, and that he should pay attention to avoiding vulgarity, affectation, and so on,[xxxvii] deficiencies that were reflected in the works of some Taiwanese artists. However, as others have pointed out, Taiwanese education in colonial times was such that students learned about the spaces around them but did not develop much awareness of Taiwans history.[xxxviii] This kind of education seemed to be reflected in the paintings produced by many of its graduates: they remained stuck at the level of observing and recording, and were incapable of bringing their own ideas to bear on what they observed and recorded. The ways of thinking and the painting methods of Taiwan’s leading Nihonga artists definitely influenced the ways in which Taiwan’s artists expressed themselves.
Ôzawa Sadayoshi’s review of the fifth Taiten stated, If
the spiritual, conceptual aspect [of tôyôga]
is not fully learned, then the kind of work that is seemingly used to hang on
the walls of public schools will never be absent from the Taiten.[xxxix]
Actually, in colonial Taiwan there were very few middle or higher schools
available, and no courses in local history were taught at any level.
Furthermore, there were no formal art schools, research institutions, or art
museums, or even any equivalent to these. When Taiwan became a Japanese colony,
its ties to Chinese political entities were cut off for the first time, but it
retained its Chinese cultural and customary tradition. Meanwhile, Japans
education on local culture was inadequate to provide anything to replace
Chinese cultural values. In the general Taiwanese population, the sense of local identity and cultural consciousness were
still at a rudimentary stage. A question thus worth pondering is how it would
have been possible under such conditions to develop any of the characteristics
of Taiwanese painting. Would it not consist of freely seeking folk motifs or
specifically local subject-matter for their symbolic value?
Let us return once again to Gôhara Kotô, and see how his handpicked young Taiwanese artists performed in presenting local color. When discussing the special selection works in the fourth Taiten of 1930 with reporters, he commented[xl]:
The Oriental paintings at the Taiten are gradually showing what may be called a Taiten style (Taiten kata). All of the works have a certain feeling in common, but the special selection winners, Lin Yü-shan’s Lotus Pond (Hasu ike) and Chen Chins The Time of Youth (Wakai hi) best exemplify the Taiten style. These two works have been recognized as special selections for their orthodoxy and excellence of expression. Lin Yü-shan’s work and Kuo Hsüeh-hu’s Prosperity of South Street (Minami-machi inshin) have won the Taiten Prize because the formers subject-matter comes from this land; Prosperity of South Street expresses local color and handles the difficulty of depicting a crowded market scene very well.
Lin Yü-shan’s Lotus Pond (Fig. 16) carefully captured the quiet and moist atmosphere of dawn. Chen Chins painting of a young woman, The Time of Youth (Fig. 17) is noteworthy for the way its extreme fluidity of line bringing out the excitement underneath her surface tranquility. Gôhara felt that these two works exemplified the Taiten style by virtue of their orthodoxy and excellence. Orthodoxy here probably refers proper Nihonga techniques and concepts. Judging from the all the materials now available to us, it is impossible to believe that a kind of orthodoxy had been established by the fourth Taiten. Gôhara meant rather that the excellent performance of artists like Lin Yü-shan and Chen Chin had established models for the new generation of artists submitting works to the Taiten. Such comments reflected Gôhara’s perennial position as judge and teacher and never appeared in Taiwans Western-style painting circles.
Of the two prizewinning works he mentioned, Gôhara was particularly in favor of Kuo Hsüeh-hus Prosperity of South Street (Fig. 18) for its depiction of a local market festival in Taipei. In 1928, Matsubayashi had given the highest praise to Kuo Hsüeh-hu’s Near Yuanshan (Maruyama fukin; Fig. 7), which painstakingly emulated Nihongas brilliant colors and close detail of flowers and plants.[xli] This creative orientation would have corresponded exactly to Gôhara’s attempts, from his 1927 Southern Charms to his 1930 Grand Vista of Neng-kao in the Mountains and Seas of Taiwan series, to create suitable images of the new colony!
Kuo’s illustrious record of winning four Taiten special selection prizes in a row from 1928 to 1931 was approached only by Chen Chin, who earned three special selection honors from 1928 to 1930. However, unlike Chen Chin, who had studied in Tokyo, Kuo Hsüeh-hu never had the opportunity to enter any art school. He could only practice by copying from painting texts and art books, and viewing works exhibited in Taipei and elsewhere. Now he naturally became a model for other young artists who were finding their way in the same kind of situation. His prizewinning works were compositionally complex and full of color. Furthermore, the scenes depicted in these works, such as the Taiwan Shinto Shrine in Near Yuanshan and the cliffs of Chihshan in New Clearing (Shinsei, 1931; Fig. 20), had important political significance: Yuanshan’s Taiwan Shinto Shrine was, of course, a highly visible mark of Japanese authority, and Chihshan was the site of a memorial to six Japanese language teachers who had been murdered there during the early years of the colonial era.[xlii] In Prosperity of South Street, the festive New Year atmosphere of Ti-hua St. is beautified into an emblem of peace and prosperity; the shop signs and flags that fill the composition not only proclaim Taiwans plenty but also national peace and security under Japanese rule. Such a method of expressing local color could also highlight the accomplishments of colonial rule, so of course it was welcomed into the officially-sponsored exhibition. In New Clearing (Fig. 20), Kuo depicts the small paradisal garden leading to the sacred ground of Chihshan, while a traditional Taiwanese temple is hidden behind the trees in the upper left corner. This kind of Japanese-Taiwanese blend was of course part of the artists painstaking design.
On the surface, it would seem that the new generation of Taiwanese artists had made great strides forward in the tôyôga division, but Ôzawa Sadayoshi raised serious warnings about this division in his critique of the fifth Taiten. He thought the tôyôga were unsatisfactory because few of the artists were thinking carefully:[xliii]:
I think this may be due to a lack of guidance on how to take the essence of tôyôga--like conception, style, or the sense of modernity--and blend it into the paintings at the Taiten. I am quite worried about its future development. To put it more bluntly, my conclusion is that many artists have been in direct pursuit of technique but with heads completely empty, so there is no need whatsoever to think.
In his essay, Ôzawa bluntly states that Kuo received the
special selection honors for his passion for diligence (doryoku shugi), but he was clearly unsatisfied with using passion
for diligence as a criterion. And what exactly did he mean by passion for
diligence? In his words, it meant that the artists brains do not move enough,
but their hands are extremely industrious, i.e., the works succeed by virtue of
the time and effort put into them.[xliv]
Only after Kuo Hsüeh-hu made a short trip to Japan in the fall of 1931 and went to all kinds of exhibitions there did he discover the vast gulf between his own works and actual Nihonga. He made a very quick change of direction to Southern Painting (nanga) the following year.[xlv] For space considerations we shall not further discuss the change in his work except to raise a question that deserves more consideration: besides indicating Kuos serious attitude toward learning, does such a rapid change reflect tôyôga’s essential fragility?
Ôzawa Sadayoshi’s Taiwanese colleague at the newspaper, Wei Ching-te, identified six problems caused by the Taiten tôyôga artists emphasis on technique and passion for diligence: (1) excessive search for variety; (2) overcomplicated composition; (3) using sheer size to attain success, leading to a scarcity of elegant small works; (4) gaudy, ornamental colors; (5) a lack of scholarly or learned quality; (6) following fashions in Western painting. He compared the Taitens tôyôga paintings and their formulaic technique with traditional literary gatherings in which scholarly gentlemen recited poetry in contests of formal technique.[xlvi]
From the foregoing discussion of Kuo’s paintings, it is not difficult to realize that an artists understanding of local color can achieve depth only if he or she cultivates it independently and with self-awareness. Of course, there were still many successful achievements and issues among the Nihonga at the Taiten that deserve further exploration. Generally, however, in the absence of art educational institutions and permanent cultural infrastructure, the Taiten could never be more than a window on colonial civilization. Without perceiving these basic constraining factors of the colonial era, it would be impossible for us to understand why Taiwanese art has tended to emphasize technique over conceptual depth.
The Demise of Nihonga
This article has focused on the development of Oriental painting, tôyôga, during the early years of the Taiten. It is noteworthy that as the years progressed later on, the limitations of Nihonga in Taiwan became more and more apparent to those working in the art world. For now, let us cite Ôzawa Sadayoshi once more to provide a conclusion. In 1938, writing in a serious tone, he pointed out, Compared to the abundant dynamism of the Western painting division, the Oriental painting division still makes people discouraged--it lacks strength. He thought that one of the reasons was that In comparison to the Western-style painters, Oriental painters have fewer opportunities to heed the call or influence of emerging styles in Japan. They also lack great masters to guide them.[xlvii] It is true that before 1945 the Taiwanese students who were admitted to Tokyo School of Art showed an intense interest in Western painting. Among the 25 Taiwanese who studied there, none were in the Dept. of Japanese Painting. Why this is so deserves further study.
It was not at all easy to do Japanese painting in
Taiwan. In 1935, the Western-style painter Tateishi Tetsuomi commented in one
review, I feel that the practitioners of Nihonga resident in Taiwan are especially lonely and embittered. The greatest
difficulty is that they rarely have the opportunity to understand Japans
glorious art historical tradition.[xlviii]
Just as painting female nudes requires an understanding of anatomy, painting Nihonga indeed depends not only painting from life but also
knowledge of Japanese art history. New Japanese painting was never cut off from
Japanese tradition, and even while it absorbed new ideas, techniques and
subjects, it constantly went back to search for antecedents in traditional
painting and culture. Taiwan, of course, did not have the Nihonga tradition, and even the Ching ink painting tradition
was complete ignored, so it often stagnated, unable to go beyond basic and
detailed techniques of realism. Without the leadership of great masters past
and present, Taiwan’s artists and art lovers could only seek their own way.
In the autumn of 1942, a seminar on Taiwanese art was organized by the magazine Taiwan kôron (Taiwan Public Opinion).[xlix] One of the topics at this seminar was Issues in Nihonga. Just as Tateishi Tetsuomi argued that Nihonga was in decline, Kaneki Takeo, a professor at Imperial Taiwan University, observed, The current development of Nihonga really is disappointing--it only absorbs Western styles and lacks other escape routes.[l] He further stated that the result of all this absorption from the West would be that Western painting would replace Japanese painting, just as Chinese painting, once it had been absorbed and transformed by Japan, became Japan’s mainstream.
If Western painting were also Japanized, then even if today’s Nihonga were to disappear immediately, my mind could be at ease. To some extent, Nihonga has already died.
In other words, Nihonga’s absorption of Western painting meant that it was finally Westernized, which was tantamount to an abandonment of the Japanese painting tradition.
We must remember, however, that these words were being spoken at a time when Japan was fully embroiled in war. Readers nowadays would have real difficulty believing that Japans painting tradition was being abandoned. Of course, Nihonga did not die the way these critics said it would but continued to change and develop in Japan. Tateishi Tetsuomi and Kaneki Takeo worried about Nihonga’s development in Taiwan, so they got the idea that Western painting was replacing Nihonga and its optimistic outlook. In actuality, although the ancient Chinese system of acquiring cultural artifacts had passed into Japan, where it was modified and became a part of Japanese culture, it never replaced the original concept of the greater Japan tradition. In actuality, Zen ink paintings and the brightly colorful, traditional works of the Kano school simultaneously adorned Japanese temples, where both continue to build cultural content that is interesting and worth savoring. Within the short period that the officially-sponsored exhibitions were held (1927-1943), it was naturally impossible for Taiwan, as a Japanese colony lacking art schools and an education system that permitted instruction in local history and culture, to absorb Nihonga and convert it into a painting style capable of modernity and profound expression of Taiwan’s natural and social environment. That is probably the real reason why Nihonga died out in Taiwan.
NOTES:
[i] Masaki Naohiko, Jûsan matsudô nikki, I, 292.
[ii] Yen Chuan-ying, Chin-tai Taiwan feng-ching-kuan te chien-kou (The Construction of Modern Taiwanese Perspectives on Landscape) in Kuo-li Taiwan ta-hsüeh i-shu-shih yen-chiu chi-kan 9, pp. 179-205.
[iii] Yen, Taiwan hua-tan shang te ko-hsing-pai hua-chiaXYen-yüeh Tao-fu (An Individualist @Painter in TaiwanXShiotsuki Tôho) in Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 366; Murakami Hideo, Kinoshita Seigai ronXTaiwan gadan jimbutsuron no san (A Study of Kinoshita Seigai--Studies on Masters in Taiwanese Painting Circles, no. 3), Taiwan shihô, 1936.11, collected in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I. 413-417.
[iv] Chou Wan-yao, Shih-hsüeh chiao-yü, hsiang-tu-ai yü kuo-chia jen-tungXjih-chih shih-chi Tai-wan kung-hsüeh-hsiao ti san-chi Kuo-yü chiao-ko-shu te fen-hsi (Practical education, love for the countryside, and national identityXan analysis of 3rd grade Japanese textbooks in Taiwanese public schools in the period of Japanese rule), Tai-wan-shih yen-chiu, 4.2 (1999.6), pp. 7-55.
[v] Li Chung-hsi, Chôsen bijutsu tenrankai no sôsetsu nitsuide (The Founding of the Chosen Art Exhibition), in Kindai gasetsu 6 (Meiji bijutsugaku kaikan, 1997), p. 28.
[vi] Ôzaki was born in Gifu Prefecture. In 1900, after working for ten years as the chief editor of Meiji bungaku and as a newspaper reporter, he moved to Taiwan and became a reporter for Taiwan nichinichi shimpô and then as chief editor of the Chinese language pages of that newspaper. He also worked part-time as a compiler of historical materials for the Governor-Generals Office and served on the Committee to Preserve Taiwanese Historical Artifacts and Natural Objects. He thus devoted much energy to researching Taiwans cultural history. See, for instance, his Taiwan ni okeru shoka to gaka (Painters and Calligraphers in Taiwan), Taiwan jihô, 1923.2, pp. 68-70.
[vii] Ôzaki __?__, Kadô no seishinXzenkoku kadôten omide I & II (The Spirit of CalligraphyXa Review of the National Exhibition of Calligraphy, parts I and II), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1936.9.27, p. 4; 1936.10.9, p. 4.
[viii] Ôzawa Sadayoshi was born in Tokyo. He graduated from the Dept. of Philosophy from Tokyo Imperial University in 1913, then began working the same year for the Central News Agency. In August 1923 he began working for Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, where he eventually became the chief editor and writer for its Editorial Department. About his writings in art criticism, see Yen, Pai-chia cheng-ming te ping-lun-chieh (The Realm of Criticism: A Hundred Schools of Thought Vie for Attention) in Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, pp. 312-319.
[ix] Ôteisei (Ôzawa Sadayoshi), Dai ichi kai Taiten hyô (Review of the First Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1927.10.30, p. 5, reprinted in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 188.
[x] Kitazawa Noriaki, Kyôkai no bijutushi (Borders of Art History) (Tokyo: __?PUBLISHER?__,2000), pp. 131-142.
[xi] Ishikawa Saizaburan, Meiji Taishô Showa Nihon kaiga (Japanese Painting in the Meiji, Taisho, and Showa Eras) (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1944), pp. 71-76.
[xii] Kumamoto Kenjirô, Meiji chûki no yôga (Foreign-Style Painting in the Mid-Meiji Era), Kindai Nihon bijutsu no kenkyû (Studies in Modern Japanese Art)(Tokyo: Tokyo kokuritsu bunkazai kenkyûjo, 1964), pp. 172-178.
[xiii] Yamanashi Emiko, Nihon kindai yôga ni okefu orientarizum (Orientalism in Modern Japanese Oil Paintings) in Ima, Nihon bijutsushigaku o furikaeru (Looking Back Today at the Study of Art History in Japan) (Tokyo: Tokyo kokuritsu bunkazai kenkyûjo, 1999), pp. 81-93.
[xiv] Liao Chin-yuan, Taiwan o furikaeru kindai Nihonga no kenkyû (Studies on the Nihonga in Taiwan), Ph.D. dissertation, Hiroshima University, 1997, pp. 8-17.
[xv] Ôteisei (Ôzawa Sadayoshi), Dai ichikai Taiten hyô, op. cit., rpt. in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 188.
[xvi] Gôhara Kotô, Taiwan bijutsuten jûshûnen jokan (Reflections on the Tenth Anniversary of the Taiten), Taiwan jihô, 1936.10, pp. 21-26; rpt. in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 530.
[xvii] Kuo Hsüeh-hu, Taiten no tokusen ni naru made (The Passage to the Special Selection in Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1932.1.16, p. 6; rpt. in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, 153.
[xviii] Taiwan chan tu-hua chi (Reading Paintings at the Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1927.10.27, Chinese pages, p. 4.
[xix] Chen Chin graduated in 1929 from the Higher Normal Division of the Dept. of Japanese Painting of Tokyo Womens School of Art. For a contemporaneous review of her work, see Nomura, Kôichi, Chen Chin ronXTaiwan gadan jimbutsuron no yon (A Study of Miss Chen ChinXStudies on Masters in Taiwans Painting Circle 4), Taiwan jihô, 1936.12; rpt. in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, pp. 418-419.
[xx] Gôhara Kotô, Taiwan bijutsu tenrankai shinsa jokanXNihonga nitsuite (Reflections on Judging the Taiten), in Taiwan kyôiku, 1927.11, p. 79. Gôhara was Chen Chins teacher at Taipei Third Girls Senior High School. Chen Chin became a judge for the sixth through eighth Taiten.
[xxi] Shiotsuki Tôho, Taiwan bijutsu tenrankai shinsa jokanXSeiyôga nitsuite (Reflections on Judging the Taiten), in Taiwan kyôiku, 1927.11, p. 79.
[xxii] Matsubayashi Keigetsu, Dai ni kai Taiwan bijutsu tenrankai shinsa jokanXtôyôga nitsuite (Reflections on Judging the Second Taiten), in Taiwan kyôiku, 1928.11, p. 170.
[xxiii] Matsubayashi Keigetsu, Taiten shinsa ni tsuite no kansô (Reflections on Judging the Taiten), in Taiwan kyôiku, 1929.12, pp. 103-112.
[xxiv] Fujishima Takeji, Bijutsugan ni utsuru Taiwan no hubutsushi (Taiwans Scenic Poetry that Shines into Artistic EyesXthe Artist Fujishima Talks of his Painting Tour), Taiwan shimbun, 1935.2.3, p. 2.
[xxv] Kim Youngna, Modern Korean Painting and Sculpture, Modernity in Asian Art, edited by John Clark, University of Sydney East Asian Studies, no. 7 (1992), pp. 155-159.
[xxvi] N sei, Taiten o miru (Viewing the Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1930.10.25, p. 8, rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 198.
[xxvii] Shiotsuki Tôho, Dai hachi kai Taiten no mae ni (Before the Eighth Taiten), Taiwan kyôiku, 1934.11, pp. 32-37; see also Yen, Taiwan hua-tan-shang te ko-hsing-pai hua-chiaXYen-yüeh Tao-fu (A Painter of Taiwans Individualist SchoolXShiotsuki Tôho), in Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, pp. 366-379.
[xxviii] N sei, Taiten o miru (Viewing the Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1930.11.3, p. 6; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 205.
[xxix] Ôzawa Sadayoshi , Taiten Hiyoron (Comments on Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1931.10.31, p. 4.
[xxx] Hayashi Shikanichi, Taiten manhyôXkan tôyôga (A Casual Review of the TaitenXViewing the Oriental Paintings), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1934.10.29, p. 3. Born in 1908, Lin Lu-erh was a graduate from the Dept. of Japanese Literature, College of Humanities and Political Science, Taipei Imperial University. In March 1934, he began working as a journalist for Taiwan nichinichi shimpô. See Kondô Masami, Hsi-chuan man cha-chi (Notes on Nishikawa Mitsuru), Taiwan Fongwu, 30-3 (1980.9), p. 19; Kunizei shimbunsha ed., Taiwan shimbun sôran (General Survey of Taiwanese Journalism) (Taipei: Kunizei shimbunsha, 1936), p. 15.
[xxxi] Tateishi Tetsuomi, Dai kyû kai Taiten sôgo hyôXseiyôgaka no kan mita tôyôga no hihan, (Cross-Critical Reviews of the Ninth TaitenXA Western Painters Judgement of Oriental Paintings), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1935.10.30; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 241.
[xxxii]Tateishi Tetsuomi, Futen ki (Notes on Futen), Taiwan shihô, 1942.11 rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 248.
[xxxiii] Murakami HideoW^, Kinoshita Seigai ronXTaiwan gadan jimbutsuron no san (A Study of Kinoshita SeigaiXStudies on Masters in Taiwans Painting Circle, no. 3), Taiwan jihô, 1936.11, collected in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, 413-417.
[xxxiv] Kinoshita Seigai, Taiten no Nihonga ni tsuite (About the Japanese Paintings in the Taiten), Tôhô bijutsu, 1939.10, pp. 25-27; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, pp. 274-75.
[xxxv] Liao Chin-yuan, Hua-chia Hsiang-yüan Ku-tung (The Painter Gôhara Kotô), in I-shu-chia, 2000.3, p. 405.
[xxxvi] Lin Po-ting, Chia-i ti-chü hui-hua chih yen-chiu (A Study of Painting in the Chiayi Area)(Taipei: National History Museum, 1995), p. 193.
[xxxvii]
Murakami HideoW^, Kinoshita Seigai
ronXTaiwan gadan jimbutsuron no san, Taiwan jihô, 1936.11, collected in Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, 413-417.
[xxxviii] Chou Yüan-ao, Shih-hsüeh chiao-yü, Taiwan-shih yen-chiu, 4.2 (1999.6), pp. 43-45.
[xxxix] Ôzawa Sadayoshi, Taiten hyô (Comments on Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1931.10.26, p. 3; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 206.
[xl] Taiten seito to rokaru kara (The Taitens Orthodoxy and Local Color), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1930.10.28, p. 1.
[xli] Anonymous reporter, Taiwan mei-shu-chan (Taiwanese Art Exhibition), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1928.10.26, Chinese p. 4.
[xlii] For a more detailed interpretation of Kuo Hsüeh-hus paintings from the second to fourth Taiten, see Chiu Han-ni, Chieh-tao shang te hsieh-sheng-cheXjih-chih shih-chI te Tai-pei tu-hsiang yü cheng-shih kung-chien (The One who Depicted Streets and BywaysXTaipei Images and Urban Spaces in the Period of Japanese Rule), M.A. Thesis, National Taiwan University Institute of Art History, 2000.
[xliii] Ôzawa Sadayoshi , Taiten hyô (Comments on Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1931.10.26, p. 3; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 207.
[xliv] Ôzawa Sadayoshi , Taiten no inshyô 1 (Impressions of Taiten, part 1), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1932.10.26, p. 6; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 213.
[xlv] Ôzawa Sadayoshi , Taiten no inshyô 6
(Impressions of Taiten, part 6), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1932.10.26; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching
hsin-ching, I, p. 218.
[xlvi] Jun (pen name for Wei Ching-te), Ti-chiu-hui Tai-chan tung-yang-hua i-pi (A Glimpse at the Oriental Paintings in the Ninth Taiten), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1935.10.26, p. 4 (Chinese pages).
[xlvii] Ôzawa Sadayoshi , Dai ichi kai futen mampyô (ni): tôyôga e no ichibetsu (Casual Criticism of the First Governor-Generals Exhibition (2): A Glimpse at the Oriental Paintings), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1938.10.25, p. 6; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, 239-245.
[xlviii] Taiten sôgo hyôXseiyôgaka no kan mita tôyôga no hihan, (Cross-Critical Reviews of the TaitenXA Western Painters Judgement of Oriental Paintings), Taiwan nichinichi shimpô, 1935.10.30, p.6; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 239.
[xlix] Tateishi Tetsuomi, Dai go kai futen zadankai (Roundtable on the Fifth Governor-Generals Exhibition), Taiwan kôron, 1942.11, pp. 97-106; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 290. See also Yen, Jih-chih shih-tai mei-shu hou-chi te fen-lieh yü chieh-kuo (Divisions and Outcomes in Art During the Latter Part of the Era of Japanese Rule), in Ho wei Taiwan? Chin-tai Taiwan mei-shu yü wen-hua jen-tung (What is Taiwan? Modern Taiwanese Art and Cultural Identity) (Taipei: Hsiung Shih, 1997), pp. 24-27.
[l] Tateishi Tetsuomi, Dai go kai futen zadankai, Taiwan kôron, 1942.11, pp. 97-106; rpt. Yen, Feng-ching hsin-ching, I, p. 290.