Page 215 - Edo: Art in Japan, 1615–1868
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entirely  in vegetables:  Shakyamuni is represented  as a giant radish, the  sala trees as cornstalks,  the
                             mournful  followers as a varied agricultural array. Although Jakuchü's version could be seen  as more
                              sacrilegious than Itchó's, its careful  mimesis  suggests  a genre closer to allegory than  farce. It has  been
                              suggested that this painting is more than  a simple parody. Jakuchü managed his family's wholesale
                             vegetable business  until he retired to dedicate his time entirely to painting. He was not only a committed
                             vegetarian but  also a self-identified  Buddhist who often  appended the  term  kojt, "Buddhist layman"
                              to his signature. This work, like many of his others, may in fact have been  donated by the  artist  to his
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                              family temple, perhaps to commemorate the  death  of his brother in  1792,  or the  anniversary of the
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                              death  of his mother.  In any event, the impact of this painting depends on the viewer's intimate know-
  21 4                        ledge of the  conventional image combined with Jakuchú's careful  attention to iconographie detail and
                              his supremely confident brushwork.


                      T H E   The artistic productions of Edo priests  reflect  a similar fluidity between  art  and  religion. Clerics such
                 P R I E S T L Y  as Hakuin Ekaku  (1685 -1769), Sengai Gibon  (1750-1837), and Jiun Onkó  (1718 -1804) clearly saw  a con-
                     A R T S  tinuity between  Buddhist practice and artistic  expression. Although their remarkable ink paintings
                              and  calligraphy, referred to by the  modern term  Zenga (Zen pictures), have sometimes  been  described
                              as unencumbered by cultural convention or as spontaneous expressions of the  enlightened mind, the
                              lives and  the  writings of these painter-priests  call into question so idealized a view. Zenga were  often
                              created as tokens  of gratitude for monetary gifts by temple patrons. They were usually not, as  often
                              suggested  by modern devotees of Zen art  or tea  ceremony practitioners, "aids to meditation" or "sym-
                              bols of enlightenment." That Zenga came to be treasured  over the  centuries as traces of the  master's
                              brush is testament to their power and significance to the  owner, but it should  not be assumed that
                              they played an important  role in the teaching that took place between  master and student. The most
                              rigorous Zen teachers  have always shown  a strong distrust  of "artistic" didactic means  such  as paint-
                              ing, calligraphy, poetry, and even language itself. This is not to say that Zenga do not have high  artistic
                              merit, in spite  of their  original function  and the  fact that their makers were not trained  artists. Indeed

                              their power derives in part from  these circumstances. If one is to interpret their brushwork in  terms
                              of their  religiosity, then one needs to ask first  about the  specific beliefs and practices to which  they
                              subscribed. The intellectual  and biographical complexity of individuals such  as Hakuin and Jiun pre-
                              sent a challenge to any simplistic understanding of Edo Buddhism as either  atrophied or monolithic.
                                     In many ways the  life  of Hakuin exemplifies the  career of a serious Buddhist monk, Zen or
                              otherwise, during the  Edo period. Like many others, he started  early and studied under a  succession
                              of teachers, moving freely  from  one to the  next, continually searching for the  appropriate guide to  the
                              next  stage in his development. In his avoidance of the  trappings of wealth  and power he typified  the
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                              great Zen monks of the  time.  For the  most part he stayed  away from  the  massive  Zen  monasteries
                              of Kyoto and Kamakura with their  ties to wealthy patrons  and  government leaders. He revived a small
                              temple in the  countryside near his birthplace, Shôinji near Mount Fuji, where he had  received his  first
                              vows and where he lived most  of the  time.
                                     Although Hakuin is one  of a number of Edo-period Zen priests, including Bankei Yôtaku  and
                              Suzuki Shósan, who addressed  Zen teachings to the  everyday concerns of the  laity, he was not  a social
                              reformer by any means. The content  of his teaching was, like that of Bankei and  Shósan, religiously
                              syncretic, politically conservative, and  supportive of the  social status  quo. His writings, for example,
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