Читать книгу The Art and Technique of Sumi-e Japanese Ink Painting - Kay Morrissey Thompson - Страница 8

what makes the sumi artist

his materials, his attitude, his subjects, his sketchbooks, his techniques.

The sumi artist is so named because of the materials he uses. Sumi itself is a compressed cake of fine black soot made from the burning of certain vegetable oils, bonded with a pure animal gelatin, and molded into a convenient stick form. The sumi stick, rubbed gently in a little water, becomes the rich, black ink so essential to the creation of sumi-e. The best formulas for the making of sumi have been carefully guarded secrets, handed down for centuries in China and Japan. Many of these formulas, unfortunately, have been lost with their makers. Some of the finest sumi being made today still comes from China, or from Nara, in Japan, where a group of manufacturers continues a tradition of sumi-making which began centuries ago. Of the many grades and qualities of sumi, that most highly desired for painting is called seiboku, which has a slight blue cast to its blackness. Kokuboku, a pure-black sumi, is acceptable, while shiboku, with a slight purple tone, and chaboku, a brownish sumi, are adequate. As in any other art, the use of the best available materials is of utmost importance.

The paper used for sumi-e is a superior grade, especially soft and absorbent handmade paper from China or Japan, often referred to as “rice” paper but actually made of various other vegetable fibers. It is made in large sheets, approximately 27 by 54 inches. Due to its thinness, it has a tendency to wrinkle after it has been painted on, so that it must be mounted and stretched after it is dry. This skilled process is called ura-uchi and is essentially the same as that used in the making of folding screens and kakemono, or hanging scrolls. There are, however, papers already mounted, called shikishi, which are available in a variety of sizes; these do not wrinkle and therefore are easier to handle. For brush-stroke practice, there are heavier, less expensive “rice” papers suitable to the purpose, or even old newspapers may be used for rougher practice. The fact that the paper must be soft and absorbent, however, is very important in any finished work. This quality is essential in order that the wet sumi may spread and blur when the artist so desires, thereby properly playing its role in close counterpart to the sumi.

The sumi stick is rendered into a liquid by blending it with a little water on a stone slab which slopes gently to a small depression at one end. This dish is called a suzuri. The stone is of a fine texture, hard but smooth. A small amount of water is poured into the indentation and the sumi stick is rubbed gently back and forth on the surface of the stone, now and then being dipped into the water. Gradually, the water becomes a rich, black mixture ready for use. The process of blending should not be hurried and, depending upon the amount of ink to be made, may continue as long as twenty or thirty minutes—a valuable period of quiet, incidentally, during which the painter can prepare himself mentally for the work to come. When ready for use, the sumi mixture will have the consistency of rich cream and the surface sheen will be slightly dulled. Fresh sumi should be prepared prior to each painting session, and the suzuri carefully washed after each use.

When the sumi has been properly mixed, it is then the richest, most opaque black used in sumi-e. This darkest value is called noboku, “thick ink.” For purposes of tonal gradation, two separate dishes are now needed. In one, noboku and water are combined to create a middle value called chuboku, “medium ink.” The third and lightest value, called tamboku, “thin ink,” is mostly water to which very little noboku has been added. These three values, in combination with the all-important white paper, are the only “colors” actually needed for sumi-e. The skill of the artist can make these tones suggest all the colors and values found in nature. It is part of the requisite simplicity of sumi-e that it not be complicated with too many indistinct values.

Other colors may sometimes be used, but only with restraint: perhaps one or two colors in addition to the gradations of black. Like sumi, the better color paints come in stick form and are rubbed into a little water to the proper consistency. The finer grades of water-color paints in either cake or tube, if more conveniently available, are also suitable.

When preparing to paint, the Japanese artist spreads a large felt-like cloth called mosen on the tatami floor. This thick, soft, woolen fabric serves as a resilient, non-sticking undersurface to the paper and also tends to repel excess moisture which may seep through the paper, thus keeping the moisture in the paper and making it possible for the artist to achieve the degree of blurring he may desire in a painting. The artist’s materials are placed on the mosen in a logical order of use, and he kneels and sits on his heels on a zabuton, or cushion. As he paints, he leans over his work and freely uses his whole arm and shoulder in executing his brush strokes. Since the Western artist is not accustomed to this painting position, it is suggested that the mosen (a heavy felt would do as well) be spread on the surface of a large table and the artist work standing up. This will also permit the arm the freedom so necessary in sumi techniques. The working surface must be horizontal; hence the conventional easel is, of course, impracticable.

Sumi brushes, known as fude, have long handles made of bamboo. The bristles are also longer than in the average water-color brush and are circularly composed, tapering to a point. The bristles are chosen from a wide selection of hairs: goat, badger, horse tail, and softer ones of rabbit fur and even hair from an infant’s first haircut! The soft-bristled brushes are generally used for very thin lines, such as a flower outline, since they taper to a finer point, while they are also used on their sides for the soft wash strokes interpreting petals or leaves. The coarser brushes are used for stronger linear techniques such as tree and branch strokes.

While these materials are unique in themselves, it is the manner in which they are used together that forms the most characteristic technique of sumi painting. The artist understands the important relationship of these materials and seeks to bring them together, enhancing the one with the other through the skill of his brush and the freedom of his imagination. Once the stroke is on the paper it can neither be redone, corrected, nor eliminated. If the brush is too wet, the sumi may spread too far; if too dry, it will not spread enough. Experimentation will reveal to each artist the degree of wetness of the brush appropriate to the stroke desired. It is this reaction of the sumi and brush to the paper, through the skill of the artist, which adds an exciting aspect to sumi painting. There will, nonetheless, be unexpected blurs and white areas where the brush eludes the paper, but these uncontrived happenings often add vitality and spontaneity to a painting.

In the fluid use of the brush, the Orientals have an inherent advantage over others, since from their earliest school years they have spent innumerable hours studying calligraphy, thereby acquiring the ability to handle the brush with assurance. Calligraphy and sumi painting are allied arts. The very word for both writing and painting is the same—kaku—and the Japanese artist says he is “writing a picture”! The materials used in both cases are quite similar, and the brush too is held in the same way, lightly but firmly, with the thumb and two or three fingers near the top. In calligraphy, a fine art in itself, the mark of the master lies in his ability to express himself with versatility, the delicacy or strength of his brush stroke expressing both the meaning of the words he is writing and his emotional reaction to them. The calligraphic artist is capable of many brush moods. There is a saying in Japan about calligraphy—Izen hitsugo, literally, “Mind before, brush after”—which means that one should have his work well in mind and be spiritually attuned to it before taking brush in hand. Feeling the mood behind the stroke of the brush in this way is equally important in sumi painting. An artist feels the strength of a jagged rock or a gnarled pine before beginning to paint and imparts this strength through his brush to his painting.

An artist’s, or calligraphist’s, own personality adds other individual qualities to his work. Brush strokes reveal character and temperament just as handwriting reveals much to those expert in that study. It is desirable for the sumi artist, as well as the calligraphist, to be free from excessive timidity in his work. A painting may be delicate and sensitive without being weak or indecisive.

In order to attain the desired control of the brush stroke, continued practice is the most rewarding contributory factor. At the same time, brush control can be greatly nourished through a study of the endless varieties of line and form in nature. There can be little doubt that nature is the best teacher of line and form, as well as of color, and the best of art begins there. For this reason, whenever possible, it is well to paint directly from nature’s source—a flower, a branch, a tree, a fish, a mountain, or whatever one finds interesting. It is surprising how this direct study between eye and subject can impart life and vitality to the quality of a line. Looking at the twist of a leaf will indicate to the artist the stroke of the brush best suited to portray that leaf. The human mind cannot invent the infinite variety of line that nature spreads before us. By painting directly from nature we acquire a familiarity with these lines and forms which cannot help but incorporate itself into our work.