Preface

Jungmann, Burglind

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Preface

Burglind Jungmann

Painters as Envoys: Korean Inspiration in Eighteenth-Century Japanese Nanga

~Since I started this research a decade and a half ago its conditions have changed significantly. First of all, there is a greater interest in Korean art and in the role it might have played in the history of East Asian art as a whole. Although in the 1980s scholars of Japanese history and literature became increasingly engaged in research on the exchange between...

Author

Burglind Jungmann

PublisherPrinceton University Press

Stable URL: https://aaeportal.com/?id=-23798

Preface

Since I started this research a decade and a half ago its conditions have changed significantly. First of all, there is a greater interest in Korean art and in the role it might have played in the history of East Asian art as a whole. Although in the 1980s scholars of Japanese history and literature became increasingly engaged in research on the exchange between Korea and Japan and a number of exhibitions highlighted the diplomatic relationship between the two countries during the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries, art historians were less aware of the impact this relationship had on Japanese art history. Many Western experts of Japanese art in the early 1990s—of course with some exceptions—still frowned upon the idea of a Korean influence on Japanese painting and a thorough stylistic analysis was required to support such an idea. Nowadays such an influence is more readily accepted.

This change is partly due to a shift in methodology in East Asian art history. Earlier investigations centered on the art objects themselves and included biographical and historical information only when it was necessary for understanding the art. More recent research puts greater emphasis on the historical and social conditions of a period and tends to see visual material within this context. My approach from the beginning has been from both sides, because the historical conditions—that is, the diplomatic exchanges in which Korea and Japan were engaged in East Asia, and the geographical, cultural, and social circumstances of those exchanges—provided most important information for my investigation. Stylistic analysis and a focus on the objects themselves, however, seemed necessary in order to get a clear idea of how Korean painting interacted with Chinese and Japanese painting. What has been a cherished topic in East Asian art for a long time, “literati painting,” could therefore be seen in a new framework: the functioning of literati culture as a means of communication between representatives of different countries and cultural backgrounds.

Parallel to this shift from an object-centered approach to a more general historical approach came a greater interest in visual material that previously had been neglected in favor of the art production of well-known individuals. In fact, the topic of Korean embassies to Japan could be set against a much more colorful and diverse background than is the case in the present study. Ideally, I would have liked to have included more illustrations of Japanese gold-leaf screens depicting Korean embassies, dolls created in imitation of them, and other Japanese material that was inspired by the diplomatic exchange. However, the complicated circumstances of ownership of all these objects, including the paintings discussed, would have made a publication in due time impossible.

Another significant change concerns the material itself. Many paintings discussed in this book have changed owners in recent years. While parts of the former Shisenshi Collection were donated to the Korean National Museum of Chinju, the former Yūgensai (Kongetsuken) Collection was sold within Japan and is no longer accessible. Both collectors had assembled Korean paintings that had mainly been kept in old Japanese family collections, in particular works executed by Korean court painters during their sojourns in Japan. Moreover, it seemed most likely that paintings in these collections, even if they were not done in Japan, had been part of the diplomatic and cultural exchange and in fact reached the country in the centuries previous to the period of Japanese domination over Korea in the late nineteenth and first half of the twentieth century. Apart from these two major collections, another source of material is the holdings of the Museum of Korean Art in the North Korean capital of Pyongyang. Because the present South Korean capital, Seoul, had also been the capital of Korea during the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910), visual material of this period is mainly housed in South Korean collections. However, there is a strong community of North Korean expatriates in Japan who make great efforts to support their home country and family members on the peninsula through donations. Many Korean paintings initially kept in Japanese collections were among such donations and are now in the collection of the Museum of Korean Art in Pyongyang. Some of them had been part of the collection of the late Yi Yŏnggae and can be found in his dictionary of Korean painters and calligraphers, Chōsen ko shoga sōran.

Another difficulty that had to be overcome in undertaking this study is the legacy of the scars of war and suppression that for centuries have been part of the relationship between Korea and Japan, historically as well as in the present. In recent years the relationship has fortunately eased, and cooperation between Korean and Japanese museums and individual scholars has become widespread. However, when I started out on my research in Japan, I perceived the investigation of the Korean influence on Nanga as touching on very delicate issues. Now, after consulting with and receiving the support of many Korean, Japanese, and Western scholars, the problem of researching the topic has become far more complex, challenging, and rewarding. I have found openness and willingness for discussion on all sides and have also found many Korean and Japanese art historians, historians, and experts on literature trying to overcome the frictions that have been caused by past politics.

This attitude of scholars today toward the exchanges between the two neighboring countries to some extent parallels that seen in exchanges between artists and scholars during the eighteenth century, most notably in its personal approach. Not only did Japanese painters seek to meet their Korean counterparts who reached Japan with Korean missions, but obviously, Korean painters were also curious about current Japanese styles. Contemporary sources describing meetings between Japanese and Korean painters show that their genuine interest in each other’s art and their common goal of understanding Chinese literati culture greatly assisted communication. It was even possible, as in the case of Gion Nankai and Yi Hyŏn, to develop a lasting friendship—and that at a time when the political situation was at its most difficult.

The following study attempts to analyze the possible impact of diplomatic contacts between Korea and Japan during the eighteenth century on the relationship between Korean and Japanese landscape painting. Politically, during the Chosŏn period (1392–1910) Korea clearly stood on the Chinese-centered side, confining herself to the role of a vassal and sending tribute missions to Beijing three times a year. Korean envoys were apparently proud of this relationship, sometimes even writing “Little China” (Sohwa) instead of “Chosŏn” when they signed a painting or calligraphy.

From the perspective of art history, however, Korea had much more in common with Japan than with China. Like Japanese artists (although for totally different reasons), Koreans cared less about the social backgrounds of painters than the Chinese, and they had distinctively different ideas about literati painting. For knowledge of the new literati style, introduced to Korea in the early seventeenth and to Japan in the early eighteenth century, they also depended on largely the same sources as the Japanese, such as Chinese woodblock-printed painting manuals, and sometimes even selected the same models from these manuals for their paintings.

While an investigation of the Korean influence on Japanese landscape painting may add a new perspective to the study of Nanga, or Japanese literati painting, viewing Korean painting from the “other” side—that is, from the perspective of its Japanese recipients—also helps our understanding of certain aspects of Korean painting. Just as in the Japanese reception of Chinese painting, we may find some Korean artists who were more highly appreciated in Japan than in their home country. Hong Set’ae, for instance, who visited Japan in 1682, was a well-known scholar and poet in Korea but his name cannot be found in any painters’ dictionary. Others, such as Yi Sŏngnin, may have been considered merely minor court artists, with the result that little of their work has been preserved. However, Yi’s series of views of Japan done during his journey of 1748—which, characteristically, is now kept in the history department of the National Museum of Korea rather than in the art department—attests to his great skill in creating beautiful scenes (figs. 51, 98). The visit to Japan of Ch’oe Puk, who escapes the categories of professional court painter on one side and “amateur” scholar painter on the other, but may instead best be regarded as an eccentric artist transcending social borders, is not recorded in any official record or travel diary. His case seems to indicate that it was possible to join an official mission simply by reason of exceptional talent.

During the course of my research I received the advice and help of many colleagues, of whom I can here name only a few, though I would like to take the opportunity to extend my gratitude to all. For the contents of this book, however, I shall take sole responsibility. I would like to thank Lothar Ledderose for bringing the topic of a Korean influence on Nanga to my attention and for encouraging me throughout the process of my research, as well as Dietrich Seckel for his continuous and inspirational interest in my findings. Both scholars’ exceptional ability to combine a general view of developments in the art history and culture of all three East Asian countries with deep inquiries into special fields encouraged me to see problems in connection to their larger cultural, political, and social backgrounds.

In Korea, I would like to extend my gratitude to Ahn Hwi-joon and Yi Sŏng-mi, who in the course of my research offered most valuable advice. As for Japan, I am greatly indebted to Yoshida Hiroshi, the late Yamanouchi Chōzō, Yi Wŏnsik, and the late Sin Kisu, who generously shared with me their abundant knowledge about the holdings of Korean visual material in Japanese collections. The International Research Center for Japanese Studies (Kokusai Nihon Bunka Center) in Kyoto, with its emphasis on international and interdisciplinary study, was, during my almost two years as a research fellow, an ideal place to discuss all kinds of questions with scholars of different fields. I am especially indebted to Tsuji Nobuo for his guidance and interest in my research.

Martina Deuchler, Patricia Fister, and Stephen Addiss read the manuscript at different stages of its completion, discussing important aspects with me and giving most valuable suggestions. I would also like to thank Tony Howes for his insightful comments on the first draft of the completed manuscript and Princeton University Press for their support throughout the publishing process. Jong-Il Park was a great help in completing the glossary and in other editorial matters.

Private collectors and curators of national, prefectural, municipal, and private museums, most important of all the staff of the National Museum of Korea in Seoul, generously gave me access to their valuable objects and shared their views.

During our six-year stay in Japan my family and I would not have survived so pleasantly without the great help in scholarly as well as private matters of Deguchi Yasuji and Matsumoto Keiko.

Moreover, I am indebted to the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research Association) for its financial support over several years of research in Korea, Japan, and Germany and to the Korea Foundation, which generously funded the publication, with additional support from the Metropolitan Center for Far Eastern Art Studies.

Finally, some technical remarks are necessary. In this study I use the McCune-Reischauer system for the transliteration of Korean, the modified Hepburn system for Japanese, and the Pinyin system for Chinese. However, for the names of well-known places I have chosen to use the established Western forms instead of transcribing them according to these systems, for example TŌkyo instead of TŌkyo and Seoul instead of Soul. Modern Korean personal names are especially difficult to transcribe, because several systems and also non-systematic ways of writing are in use. For instance, there are about a dozen different renderings of the surname Yi: Rhee, Rhie, Rhi, Lee, Lie, Li, Yi, Ree, Ri, etc., all transcribing the same character, which is actually pronounced “i” (as in Italian). Whenever possible I have used the version chosen by authors themselves, with the McCune-Reischauer version given in brackets in the bibliography. When I only knew the name in its Korean form, I have transcribed it according to the McCune-Reischauer system. Names of historical personalities are read according to the customs of the field, with family names coming first and personal names or sobriquets. For abbreviation, I use the family name in the case of Chinese and Korean names (Shen for Shen Zhou, Kim for Kim Yusŏng), but the pen name in the case of Japanese names (Taiga for Ike Taiga).

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