Arts of Japan. Hugo Münsterberg
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In keeping with the transcendental and spiritual nature of the image, the style is very abstract, for it would not seem proper to represent these otherworldly beings in a naturalistic manner suited only for creatures of this world. In order to achieve this effect the artist has flattened out the figure, placing more emphasis upon the abstract design than the plastic form, and he has created a feeling of tension by stressing the linear movement within the composition. Wherever the eye turns, be it to the hanging drapery in the center, the scarfs of the attendants, the lotus designs, or the flames of the mandorla, there are dynamic, moving lines, which bring out a wonderful feeling of inner tension balanced by the serenity of the facial expressions. Here again, as in the treatment of the iconography, the artist simply reflects the style of the Chinese models which inspired him and, although no such large bronze Buddhist images of this date have been discovered in China, there can be no doubt that they existed and that it was this type of image which was brought to Japan during the middle of the sixth century.
While the Tori Bushi trinity was made of bronze, other early images were carved in wood, a material which has been used with great skill by Japanese craftsmen throughout the ages. The most famous as well as the most beautiful of the wooden statues at Hōryū-ji is the large standing figure of Kannon Bosatsu, the bodhisattva of mercy and compassion (Plate 16). It is probably somewhat later than the "Shaka Trinity," for the draperies no longer fall in winglike patterns, and the figure is far more plastic, reflecting the Chinese style of the second half of the sixth century, whereas the "Shaka Trinity" follows the style of the first half. The bosatsu is rendered in a graceful and moving way, expressing the compassion associated with the saint. The body is very much elongated, emphasizing the spiritual nature of the deity in a way that reminds one of the statues of medieval Europe, where the same type of elongation was used to express a transcendental feeling. One hand is extended in the gesture of charity while the other holds a bottle of heavenly nectar. The graceful carving of the fingers, especially in the hand holding the bottle, is of rare sensitivity. Equally lovely is the flowing movement of the scarf which extends in a long, curving line from the arm to the pedestal upon which the bodhisattva stands. Since he is a bosatsu rather than a Buddha, the Kannon is dressed in garments symbolizing a royal prince, with a crown and a long skirt and the upper part of his body bare. Another sign of his identity is the little Buddha Amida in his crown, for this deity is looked upon as the spiritual counterpart of the bosatsu. The Kannon stands on a lotus pedestal, the symbol of purity, and behind his head is a beautiful halo in the shape of a lotus flower. There are traces of paint on the statue, which originally must have been brightly colored with red and blue and green. The total effect of the statue, so gracefully carved and filled with such quiet serenity, is one of rare spiritual beauty. It is traditionally referred to as the "Kudara Kannon," after the Korean kingdom from which it is supposed to have come, but since there are no comparable Korean or Chinese images, it may well be a native Japanese work.
The seated image of Miroku Bosatsu at Koryu-ji in Kyoto is no doubt of Korean origin, since there are images in Korea which are almost identical in style and iconography. However, it is impossible to tell which images were brought to Japan from the continent, which were made in Japan by foreign artists, and which were made by native Japanese craftsmen who had studied, with foreign teachers. Formerly, Japanese temples often ascribed works to Korean or Chinese sculptors, hoping to increase the prestige of the images, but in modern times, influenced by the rising nationalism, Japanese scholars have been somewhat reluctant to admit that any of these works were not done by Japanese artists. The truth as so often happens probably lies somewhere between, and at this point the origin of such works can not be determined with certainty. In any case, the statue of the Buddha of the Future, or Miroku, is one of the most moving and graceful Buddhist images in Japanese art. It shows him seated in deep meditation on a lotus throne with one leg hanging down, while the other one crosses it at right angles. The bare upper part of the body is smooth and round, while the lower part is covered with drapery falling in many folds. One arm is bent, with the hand resting upon the ankle of the crossed leg, while the fingers of the other touch the chin in a gesture associated with spiritual contemplation. Here again, as in the "Kudara Kannon," the carving of the fingers is particularly sensitive. Wonderfully carved also are the half-closed eyes, the sharp, curved nose, and the mouth, over which a slight smile hovers. Certainly the sculptor, whose name and career are completely unknown, was one of the great artists of the period.
The masterpiece of Asuka sculpture, and one of the truly great works of sculpture of all times is the Miroku at Chūgū-ji in Nara (Plate 17). In iconography this image is almost identical with the Koryu-ji one, and, although according to tradition it is believed to be a representation of Kannon, it too must be looked upon as an image of Miroku, the messiah of Buddhism, for inscriptions on similar images specifically say that this type of image represented this deity. The chief iconographical difference between the two images is that instead of a headdress, the one at Chūgū-ji has two balls which represent a very stylized version of the hair style of the time. Other minor differences are the halo behind his head, the scarfs hanging from his shoulders, and the raised lotus supporting the foot which is hanging down. But the true difference is in the execution of the sculpture rather than the iconography. Like the Koryu-ji image, the one at Chūgū-ji is carved in wood, but the surface is so smooth, and so darkened by age and incense that it looks almost like metal. The form, which is both more plastic and more abstract, recalls the rounded shapes of the haniwa, suggesting that this is indeed a native Japanese work. It is perhaps this simplification of form which particularly appeals to the modern eye, for the sculptor has been able to combine natural observation with abstractness in a very beautiful manner. The plastic form of the torso, the rounded arms, the egg shape of the head and the balls of hair are all highly abstract, and yet they give a clear idea of the natural forms which inspired them. Every detail comes to life, not just in the figure but in the falling cascades of the drapery, which make a wonderful pattern (Plate 18). Most moving of all is the face, which gives perfect expression to Buddhism, with its ideal of complete inner harmony. Nowhere else has this ideal found a purer or more beautiful embodiment. The eyes are almost shut, creating a feeling of dreaminess; the mouth is slightly parted with a gentle smile playing over the lips; the expression of the whole suggests a profound spiritual peace. No words can do justice to this face, which is one of the most beautiful and moving ever created, an achievement which is doubly remarkable when we remember that this image was made by an unknown craftsman only fifty years after this type of Buddhist carving had been introduced into Japan.
There are several other Buddhist images which have come down to us from the Asuka period. Among them the most famous, perhaps, is the "Yumedono Kannon" in the Yumedono, or Hall of Dreams, at Hōryū-ji. According to tradition, it was made for the great Buddhist prince, Shōtoku Taishi, for his private contemplation, but this