Friday Fave: Pheasants and Cherry Trees

Pheasants and Cherry Trees; Japan, Momoyama period, first quarter of the 17th century; ink, color, and gold on paper; Purchase, F2006.3.1–2

Pheasants and Cherry Trees; Japan, Momoyama period, first quarter of the 17th century; ink, color, and gold on paper; Purchase, F2006.3.1–2

Spring has sprung in the District! In celebration of this long-awaited season and the cherry blossoms that are almost in bloom, I’d like to present my favorite artwork, Pheasants and Cherry Trees.

One of the most impressive things about this work of art—and the one thing that you can’t get a sense of from any digital image—is its grand scale. The pair of screens takes up half of one of our Japanese galleries, and the delicate, detailed cherry blossom trees that dot the landscape are truly a sight to behold. Despite its size, if you look closely enough, you can discern individual petals in varying shades of pink, rough patches of bark, and even small blots of green buds about to take shape.

The pheasants are equally impressive. A few wait patiently, beaks to the ground underneath the shade of the trees. But two have taken flight into the pure gold background, seemingly awash in sunlight. The long, striped feathers of the first bird still almost touch the grass, and the second one’s wingtip comes close to the top edge of the screen, connecting earth and sky. Follow their line and your eye floats across the screen and then up and over to the wall beyond.

Pheasants and Cherry Trees is on view in the Freer Gallery of Art. Come see it for yourself tomorrow during our Cherry Blossom Celebration, a day full of Japanese art, anime and manga films, a book signing, a vintage kimono trunk show, and family activities.

Friday Fave: Breakfast in the Loggia

Breakfast in the Loggia; John Singer Sargent (1856–1925); United States, 1910; oil on canvas; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1917.182a–b

Breakfast in the Loggia; John Singer Sargent (1856–1925); United States, 1910; oil on canvas; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1917.182a–b

Did you ever wish you could step into a painting? I feel that way each time I look at John Singer Sargent’s painting Breakfast in the Loggia. It hangs in the Freer in a hallway that leads to galleries of Indian and Islamic art, and it’s overshadowed by an imposing guardian figure from Japan. Most visitors walk right by it, never giving it a first, much less a second, glance. So why is a sunny Italian scene by one of the greatest American painters of the early twentieth century on view in the Freer?

It’s easy to forget that Charles Lang Freer was collecting the leading-edge American art of his time. Many of his American acquisitions look staid and old-fashioned to viewers today. Freer formed friendships with artists, including Abbott Handerson Thayer, Thomas Dewing, and of course, James McNeill Whistler. He acquired their art and commissioned them to create paintings for his home in Detroit, Michigan. A budding connoisseur, Freer learned from artists and honed his sense of aesthetics from their discussions and correspondence. Freer even bought their works, sometimes sight unseen, because he believed in their abilities and creativity.

Freer did not have the same close relationship with John Singer Sargent; I’m pretty sure the two never met. I think I would have liked the artist. I know I like the way he paints and how he fills shadows with an array of colors. A white wall isn’t really white. It’s blue and gray and pink. The “white” tablecloth is primarily slashes of shades of blue. When I look at Breakfast in the Loggia, I imagine myself wearing a big hat, leaning in with my elbows on the table as I eat outside and share a bit of gossip. Best of all, I can feel the warm Italian sun on my back. Ahhh!

Truth be told, this is my second-favorite work in the museums. First is the portrait of Elvis painted on velvet that hangs in the staff kitchen—but that’s a story for another time.

Friday Fave: March MADness

Mask; Japan, Edo period, 1615–1868; wood with paint and hair; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1905.314

Mask; Japan, Edo period, 1615–1868; wood with paint and hair; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1905.314

 

Our Friday Fave blog series features museum insiders taking a closer look at their favorite works of art.

Not only is it Friday the 13th, but it’s also just days until the year’s scariest, most cutthroat contest: March MADness. While the rest of America roots for their favorite men’s basketball teams, we at the museums will pit sixteen intimidating objects against one another for the coveted title of Freer|Sackler’s Fiercest. Pictured is last year’s winner (after edging out the Maiden of Dojoji), a Japanese mask that represents a demon (oni). It probably was used in a ritual exorcism performed the night before the New Year, and its eyes may once have been coated with gilt metal for extra glaring power.

On Tuesday, as the NCAA kicks off its tournament, head to the F|S Facebook page to vote for the maddest, baddest objects in our collection. Then, follow along with our bracket to see if your picks make it to the final rounds. As head of our social media team, it would be biased of me to name a top choice in this sure-to-be-contentious battle—but I can divulge that this year’s group ups the ante in pure nightmare fuel.

Visit our Connect page to find more ways to follow the Freer|Sackler on social media.

Friday Fave: Nasta‘liq

Folios of calligraphy, signed by Mir Imad al-Hasani (d. 1615); Iran, probably Isfahan, Safavid period, dated 1611–12 (1020 AH); borders signed by Muhammad Hadi, Iran, Safavid period, dated 1755–56 (1169 AH); ink, opaque watercolor, and gold on paper; Purchase, Freer Gallery of Art, F1931.20 and F1942.15b

Folios of calligraphy, signed by Mir Imad al-Hasani (d. 1615); Iran, probably Isfahan, Safavid period, dated 1611–12 (1020 AH); borders signed by Muhammad Hadi, Iran, Safavid period, dated 1755–56 (1169 AH); ink, opaque watercolor, and gold on paper; Purchase, Freer Gallery of Art, F1931.20 and F1942.15b

Our Friday Fave blog series features museum insiders taking a closer look at their favorite works of art.

To prepare for the exhibition Nasta‘liq: The Genius of Persian Calligraphy, I pored over the Freer|Sackler’s large collection of related calligraphy, searching for the one piece that would embody the main idea I wanted to convey: that the visual aspects of the nasta’liq script are equal to, if not more important than, its meaning. After a long search, it was actually two pieces that caught my attention—two folios mounted together as a pair, in an album made in mid-eighteenth-century Iran and acquired in 1909 by Tsar Nicholas II. This impressive volume is now known as the St. Petersburg Album.

It doesn’t matter whether you can read the poetic verses or not. The contrast between the deep black, graceful lines of calligraphy and the shimmering illuminations and margins is dazzling. Both pages present the same quatrain and both were copied by the same calligrapher, the celebrated Mir Imad al-Hasani, in 1611, four years before his death. Penned on exquisite paper—marbled in pink or decorated with gold floral designs—these two folios represent the ultimate examples of a series exercise: the calligrapher practiced copying a verse until he created an example that he considered perfect. The two calligraphies may look identical at first glance, but there is one subtle difference. In fact, the shape of a single word distinguishes them. On the third line, hich (“nothing”) is compressed in the folio on the right, whereas it shows an elongated ligature between the ha and ya letters in the folio at left.

This minor distinction, which a viewer can only identify through long and sedulous contemplation, embodies what I consider to be the quintessence of the visual power of nasta’liq. This feature certainly did not escape the illuminator, Muhammad Hadi. In 1755, more than 140 years after Mir Imad completed these calligraphies, Muhammad Hadi mounted them as a facing pair—though they were not initially supposed to be shown and seen together—and adorned them with lavish gilding. For me, this decorative element simply underscores the perfect beauty of the written lines.

See the Nasta’liq exhibition and learn about Persian art and culture at our Nowruz celebration this Saturday, March 7.

Friday Fave: Chape of a Scabbard

Chape of a scabbard; India, Mughal dynasty, 17th century; iron inlaid with gold; H: 11.2, W: 3.8, D: 1.6 cm; Purchase—Misses Rajinder and Narinder Keith in honor of Mahinder Singh Keith, F1994.5

Chape of a scabbard; India, Mughal dynasty, 17th century; iron inlaid with gold; H: 11.2, W: 3.8, D: 1.6 cm; Purchase—Misses Rajinder and Narinder Keith in honor of Mahinder Singh Keith, F1994.5

Our Friday Fave blog series features museum insiders taking a closer look at their favorite works of art.

I first encountered this exquisite chape while visiting the Freer Gallery several years before I began to work here. Created in India during the seventeenth century, it is an ornamental covering for the tip of a scabbard. To my mind, it stands on its own as a work of art.

Indian art of the Mughal period is known for its sensitivity to detail and a delight in forms from the natural world. Like so much great Mughal art, this iron and gold chape exists as a world in itself—one you can return to again and again. And so I used to return to the Freer to rediscover it when it was on display. When it wasn’t, there were plenty of other marvels to enjoy, but I never forgot it and it was one of the first works of art I looked up when I arrived.

Like the leaves and flowers it depicts, the chape appears to have been created effortlessly by nature. It is possible to forget that a skilled artisan painstakingly etched out the fractal, interlocking plant forms and filled them with inlaid gold. There appear to be four or five kinds of flowers depicted—one of them a poppy—and six little butterflies lie nestled in the leaves. The intimate power of its scale and the economy of its form make the chape a marvel to behold. Yes, it was created for wealthy tastes that reveled in fine decoration, but from the vantage point of our consumer culture awash in mass-produced things, this little wonder is a reminder that the natural world is the original source of elegance. A true work of art speaks for itself and can be astonishing at any scale.

Friday Fave: Vairochana, the Cosmic Buddha

Buddha draped in robes portraying the Realms of Existence; probably Henan province, China, Northern Qi dynasty, 550–77; limestone; Purchase, F1923.15

Buddha draped in robes portraying the Realms of Existence; probably Henan province, China, Northern Qi dynasty, 550–77; limestone; Purchase, F1923.15

Our Friday Fave blog series features museum insiders taking a closer look at their favorite works of art.

It’s not a piece I paid a lot of attention to at first. At first glance, the statue is almost forlorn, a robed Buddha missing head and hands. I appreciated it abstractly but never looked very closely at it.

The project that would become SmithsonianX3D changed all that. The Cosmic Buddha was chosen as one of the pieces to showcase for the launch of the 3D site, and I had the chance to learn so much more about this fascinating statue while working with Keith Wilson, curator of ancient Chinese art, and the Smithsonian digitization team. For example, the decoration on the stone robes is not just abstract imagery, but rich illustrations depicting the Buddhist “Realms of Existence” and scenes from the past lives of the Historical Buddha. The stories are told in bands stacked up the front and back of the Buddha. Wear and tear on the low relief carvings show that the Buddha was cleaned and cared for, and probably had scholars taking rubbings of the imagery.

Now, the Cosmic Buddha—as well as Promise of Paradise, the exhibition in which the sculpture is featured—are my favorite things in the Freer. I still love to wander through the gallery and study the Buddha, and try to picture what the missing head and hands were like (we don’t know, though we can make an educated guess from existing depictions of the Vairochana—the Cosmic Buddha).

Next time you’re at the Freer, look closer at the Buddha. Don’t forget that you can explore it online, too, and learn more at 3d.si.edu.

Celebrate the Lunar New Year at Freer|Sackler

Sheep and Goat; Zhao Mengfu (1254–1322); China, Yuan dynasty, ca. 1300; ink on paper; Purchase, F1931.4

Sheep and Goat; Zhao Mengfu (1254–1322); China, Yuan dynasty, ca. 1300; ink on paper; Purchase, F1931.4

Greetings from the ImaginAsia family program!

To ring in the Year of the Sheep, we are hosting our first annual Lunar New Year Celebration on Saturday, February 21, from 11 am to 4 pm. Throughout the day, visitors of all ages can learn, play, and indulge in culinary delights to mark the new year in China, Korea, Mongolia, Sri Lanka, and many other countries.

Visitors can explore the Freer|Sackler’s rich collections through educator-led tours, sample and learn how to make Lunar New Year-themed recipes with author Pat Tanumihardja, and discover the history and traditions of the holiday through book readings hosted by the DC Public Library. Other activities include creating festive good-luck figures with handmade paper and pop-up greeting cards with Sushmita Mazumdar, a local book artist.

This event, held in the midst of the fifteen-day holiday, is co-organized by the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center.

Can’t wait for Saturday? Send a Lunar New Year e-card now!

Grey Matters

No. 5; Takiguchi Kazuo (born 1953); Kyoto, Japan, Heisei era, 1996; stoneware with dark gray matte textured glaze; Purchase—John and Marinka Bennett, S1997.33

No. 5; Takiguchi Kazuo (born 1953); Kyoto, Japan, Heisei era, 1996; stoneware with dark gray matte textured glaze; Purchase—John and Marinka Bennett, S1997.33

Well, we all know what movie you saw last weekend. Enough said.

But why be satisfied with a mere fifty shades of grey? The Freer|Sackler’s newly digitized collections contain more than four hundred objects featuring most every kind of grey known to man … and woman. Enter grey (or gray, if you prefer) into the search, and hundreds of works of art will become available for your viewing, study, and personal pleasure.

Curious? Check out Open F|S and enter a world you’ve always wanted to know more about.

Valentine’s Day Cards: Be(ad) Mine?

Heart-shaped bead; Egypt, New Kingdom, 1550–1197 BCE; glass; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1909.1462

Heart-shaped bead; Egypt, New Kingdom, 1550–1197 BCE; glass; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1909.1462

Forget something? I’ll wait.

Yes, that’s right. It’s Valentine’s Day. If panic is setting in because you forgot to send your loved one a card, fear not (or Freer not, as we like to say around here), we’re here for you. Choose an e-card specially selected from the Freer|Sackler collections and all will be right with your valentine. And thanks to our recent digitization effort, Open F|S, the images will not only fill a screen, but a heart as well.

You’re welcome.

Friday Fave: Tea Bowl

Tea bowl, possibly Satsuma ware; possibly Kagoshima prefecture, Japan, Edo period, 17th century; stoneware with clear, crackled glaze, stained by ink; gold lacquer repairs; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1904.323

Tea bowl, possibly Satsuma ware; possibly Kagoshima prefecture, Japan, Edo period, 17th century; stoneware with clear, crackled glaze, stained by ink; gold lacquer repairs; Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1904.323

Our Friday Fave blog series features museum insiders taking a closer look at their favorite works of art.

This Japanese tea bowl from the 17th century is beautiful enough to stop me in my tracks. It’s stoneware with a crackled glaze, and most likely a Satsuma ware vessel, a style of Japanese ceramic associated with the region formerly known by that name. It seems perfect on its own, but it’s rich with narrative and has a story to tell. Sometime during its life, the tea bowl broke and shattered into pieces. It was repaired using powdered gold sprinkled over repairs made in lacquer. It became a graceful alternative to the traditional Chinese method of using staples to repair ceramics. The technique became known as “golden joinery” (kintsugi) or “golden concealment” (kintsuguroi). The broken object is not only fixed, but somehow transformed. Apparently, as the technique developed over the centuries, some people may have deliberately broken their bowls so that they could make a plain vessel more interesting and valuable by adding a golden repair.

When I look at the bowl, I don’t see damage. The break and repair have made it more beautiful. It looks to me like an artist has riffed on a Japanese poem of a moon entangled in the branches of a tree, and etched it onto the bowl.

Though today is Friday the 13th, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Good follows bad—and the same goes for luck. What you may think is broken today could be something you cherish tomorrow.