Yesterday we drove to Sacramento and back to see an exhibition of works by the Japanese American artist Chiura Obata (1885–1975). What a pleasure! His paintings are varied in subject matter and technique, but all of them—from teenage years on—are so accomplished. I've known about him for a while because he painted many beautiful images of Yosemite and the high Sierra. But in studying about the Japanese internment during WWII I learned that he, too, at age 57, was sent first to Tanforan Assembly Center and then to Topaz Incarceration Camp, in central Utah, where he lived for a couple of years before being released and heading to Missouri for the duration. He eventually was able to return to California, where he resumed his career as a professor of art at UC Berkeley.
His attitudes about art making and about racism were quite Buddhist. For example (both from a 1965 interview):
If you drag the brush you can't paint. I still tell my friends that when you paint, concentrate your power: make your posture correct, keep your mind very calm, imagine in your mind what you want to paint. . . . If you breathe out in the middle, your brush will die halfway; it will be like the tail of a dog recovering from an illness.
Since I came to the United States in 1903, I saw, faced, and heard many struggles among our Japanese Issei. The sudden burst of Pearl Harbor was as if the mother earth on which we stood was swept by the terrific force of a big wave of resentment of the American people. Our dignity and our hopes were crushed. In such times I heard the gentle but strong whisper of the Sequoia gigantean [sic]: "Hear me, you poor man. I've stood here more than three thousand and seven hundred years in rain, snow, storm, and even mountain fire still keeping my thankful attitude strongly with nature—do not cry, do not spend your time and energy worrying. You have children following. Keep up your unity; come with me." So, in the past, all such troubles moved like a cool fog. In deep respect I present my painting to our Nisei and the future generation.
Here are some of the works we saw yesterday, mostly on paper, some on silk. The first bunch are from the Sierras; the second are from Topaz. And we finish with a lazy cat. Click on the images to view them large on black.
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| Setting Sun of Sacramento Valley (1922) |
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| Evening Moon, 1930 |
Yesterday we drove to Sacramento and back to see an exhibition of works by the Japanese American artist Chiura Obata (1885–1975). What a pleasure! His paintings are varied in subject matter and technique, but all of them—from teenage years on—are so accomplished. I've known about him for a while because he painted many beautiful images of Yosemite and the high Sierra. But in studying about the Japanese internment during WWII I learned that he, too, at age 57, was sent first to Tanforan Assembly Center and then to Topaz Incarceration Camp, in central Utah, where he lived for a couple of years before being released and heading to Missouri for the duration. He eventually was able to return to California, where he resumed his career as a professor of art at UC Berkeley.
His attitudes about art making and about racism were quite Buddhist. For example (both from a 1965 interview):
1 comment:
Great post. I love his art
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