By Bradley Bailey, The Ting Tsung and Wei Fong Chao Curator of Asian Art, and Yukio Lippit, The Jeffrey T. Chambers and Andrea Okamura Professor of History of Art and Architecture at Harvard University

Among the most famous episodes of Zen lore is the exchange between Bodhidharma (active fifth or sixth century), the Indian patriarch credited with spreading Zen Buddhism to China, and China’s Emperor Wu of the Liang Dynasty (502–557). An ardent and generous patron of Buddhism, Emperor Wu used his wealth and power to support the construction of temples, the painting of holy images, and the copying of sacred texts, and, as such, was eager to demonstrate his devotion before this newly arrived monk. Their exchange is recorded as follows:

Emperor Wu: “I have built many temples, copied innumerable sutras, and ordained many monks since becoming Emperor. Therefore, I ask you, what is my merit?”

Bodhidharma: “None whatsoever.”

Emperor Wu: “Why no merit?”

Bodhidharma: “Doing things for merit has an impure motive and will only bear the puny fruit of rebirth.”

Emperor Wu: “What then is the most important principle of Buddhism?”

Bodhidharma: “Vast emptiness. Nothing sacred.”

Emperor Wu: “Who is this that stands before me?”

Bodhidharma: “I do not know.”

Even though brief and cryptic, this exchange underscores a number of qualities associated with Zen Buddhism over the centuries: its emphasis on the concept of emptiness, of finding the Buddha nature within oneself as a means to enlightenment, and its contrarianism vis-à-vis mainstream expectations of religious practice and patronage. These are the themes that are showcased in Zenga, an art form that refers to paintings and calligraphies by Japanese Zen monk-painters from the Edo period (1615–1868) and modern era, and that originated with the celebrated monk Hakuin Ekaku (1685–1768). 

Recognized as one of the most remarkable artistic traditions of Japan, Zenga were created by monks who were not professionally trained as painters, but who instead painted as an extension of their teaching activity. As such, these works can be simple and amateurish in visual form but powerfully direct and profound in meaning. Zenga reflected the outreach of Japanese monks to commoners of their time, and thus engage allegory, popular references, and quotidian concerns to better convey their messages. Marked by innovation and improvisation, the world of Zenga is populated by Buddhist patriarchs and Zen eccentrics, Taoist immortals and folk deities, and celebrated monks and revered poets. As suggested by Bodhidharma’s deadpan responses to Emperor Wu, they occasionally evoke unexpected moods of whimsy and humor; they are oftentimes irreverent and idiosyncratic, and always profound.

Formally, Zenga are typically distinguished by their gestural brushwork and use of black ink. Zenga can be deceptively simple in their appearance and often surprising in the depths of their meaning. In evermore visually appealing ways, these paintings convey the complex and seemingly ungraspable concepts of the illusoriness and mindlessness of the world and explore the rich potential of an artistic contradiction: How can emptiness be manifest in form? And how might the non-self be expressed through painting?

Despite the genre’s importance to the history of art, it has typically been treated as an isolated phenomenon, somehow situated outside the social and cultural developments of early modern Japan and forms of Japanese painting. This catalogue and its related exhibition, however, propose a fresh reexamination of Zenga, adding new understanding to the nature and popularity of this genre in its own time and culture. None Whatsoever: Zen Paintings from the Gitter-Yelen Collection introduces Zenga through select works from the collection of Kurt Gitter and Alice Yelen Gitter, along with works from the Gitter-Yelen Collection at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. In doing so, it incorporates a new awareness of the tradition of Zenga based on recent scholarship on the meaning of Hakuin’s allegorical paintings and his social awareness, as well as the collecting history of Zenga in the modern era. Kurt Gitter’s encounters with Zenga in the 1960s can now be understood as playing an important role in the history of Zenga collecting and in the appreciation of this tradition not only in the United States but also in Japan itself. Begun by Dr. Kurt Gitter in the 1960s, the collection is regarded as the premier assemblage of such artwork outside of Japan. Its rich holdings allow this exhibition and catalogue to tell a new story about Zenga as it relates to the artistic traditions of the Japanese archipelago—and beyond.

Zen, like all forms of Buddhism, is based on the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, also known as Prince Shakyamuni, who lived during the sixth century. However, Zen is distinguished by its emphasis on meditation, as opposed to mystic ritual and sacred scripture, as a means of achieving enlightenment. Another key component of the religion is the koan, often translated as an “unanswerable question,” which presents students of Zen with queries that defy rationality and logic, leading to flashes of intellectual insight. Perhaps the most famous koan was coined by Hakuin himself: “Two hands clap and produce a sound—but what is the sound of one hand?”

Zen originated in China as Chan Buddhism and rapidly spread throughout Asia. Though it was first introduced in Japan in the late sixth century, not until the late twelfth century did it begin to truly flourish, and soon it was widely adopted by members of the samurai class. With the establishment of the Ashikaga shogunate in the late fourteenth century, Zen Buddhism became a dominant and guiding force among Japan’s ruling feudal lords, affecting everything from politics and policy to art.

The distinct influence of Zen in Japan can be seen in myriad forms of art and culture in Japan, including garden and landscape design, the wabi-sabi aesthetics of the tea ceremony, the strict self-discipline of the martial arts, the subtle yet suggestive poetic forms of haiku and tanka, and, as seen here, the dynamic, gestural, and at times confounding world of Zenga.

Unlike other types of Buddhist painting, which can often be overwhelming in their use of bright colors, supernatural deities, complicated cosmic diagrams, and extremely detailed compositions, Zenga are typically monochromatic and are characterized by relatively simple designs, often expressed in a few confident brushstrokes. The mystic and at times terrifying deities of the Buddhist pantheon are replaced by playful and eccentric monks, who sometimes cavort with figures from native folklore—some sleep, whereas others sit in zazen, or contemplative meditation. Lengthy ritual texts, translated from ancient Sanskrit, are replaced with short, yet profound, calligraphic inscriptions, which can also include humorous puns and wordplay.

The core of None Whatsoever and the renowned Gitter-Yelen Collection is a remarkable group of paintings by Hakuin, the most famous Zen monk of the Edo period and increasingly recognized as a towering artistic figure in his own right. From Hakuin, None Whatsoever looks both backward and forward—earlier to a coterie of artists such as the monk Fūgai Ekun (1568–1654) and tea master Shōkadō Shōjō (1584–1639), who were forerunners of the abbreviated, seemingly unpremeditated style of Zenga painting, and later to Hakuin’s many followers, including Tōrei Enji (1721–1792), a major artist in his own right, and monk-painters such as Sengai Gibon (1750–1837) and Nakahara Nantenbō (1839–1925), who extended Hakuin’s legacy into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. This catalogue of the exhibition also includes several works from the Gitter-Yelen Collection that reveal Zenga’s interaction with other professional schools of Japanese painting, especially those based in and around Kyoto, and concludes with the work of twentieth-century Japanese calligraphers like Inoue Yūichi (1916–1985) and Suda Kokuta (1906–1990). Like the Zenga artists of centuries before, they sought to transcend the illusory concerns and constraints of the contemporary world around them.

Hakuin Ekaku and the Creation of Zen Painting

The single most important figure in the emergence of Zenga as a tradition is Hakuin Ekaku. In religious history, Hakuin is a towering figure; he helped to revive the moribund Rinzai School of Zen Buddhism, and his reform of Zen practices such as the use of koan (Zen riddles of language and logic) is still the basis of Zen practice today. In artistic terms, Hakuin simplified the visual language but greatly expanded the thematic repertoire of Zen paintings. In previous centuries, Zen paintings were made primarily for elite audiences. However, Hakuin created works for all status groups, and in doing so incorporated strategies to make esoteric Zen figures more approachable. These works included cartoonish renderings of Zen patriarchs, such as the Bodhidharma, with simple messages inscribed above, and Zen eccentrics, such as the portly priest Hotei, as an everyman or action hero, placed in different poses or settings in order to convey religious themes more directly and compellingly.

One of Hakuin’s great legacies was his proselytizing activity, which resulted in an expansion of the social demography of Zen followers. Accordingly, Hakuin’s disciples ranged from daimyo lords to other Zen priests, urban commoners, and rural farmers. Hakuin used paintings and calligraphies as a way of reinforcing his teachings, and also of mediating relations with his followers. For more sophisticated audiences, he was fond of using parables, such as the one of two blind men describing an elephant, which were primary components of his lectures. However, for commoners, Hakuin sometimes created calligraphic works that had nothing outwardly to do with Zen teachings; instead, they touched upon themes important to the daily lives of merchants and agrarians, such as prosperity, long life, and filial piety. Hakuin understood that sometimes the best way to achieve spiritual advancement was to work through quotidian concerns, rather than shun them. 

The works in this section, drawn from the rich holdings of the Gitter-Yelen Collection, represent the finest group of works by Hakuin outside of Japan and the diverse and groundbreaking output of monk-painters. While Hakuin was known to repeat designs and compositions, many of the works in this section are among the most significant iterations of some of his best-known paintings.

Constructing a Lineage

Zenga can be understood as originating with Hakuin. During the modern era, however, as Zenga gained in popularity, scholars attempted to explore the prehistory of Zenga and identify precursors to Hakuin’s artistry. The result was the elaboration of an unusual Zenga lineage extending back to the late sixteenth century and consisting of artists who, in many cases, had no direct relationship to or influence on Hakuin. Instead, they are associated with Zenga because of their treatment of similar themes, or because of their abbreviated, straightforward approach to painting and calligraphy. This “invention” of Hakuin’s artistic genealogy might be likened to Jorge Luis Borges’s famous comment about Franz Kafka, in which he asserts that Kafka essentially “created” his precursors. This section showcases precursors for Hakuin, including the appealing works of the mysterious monk Fūgai Ekun, as well as the artistry of the calligrapher Konoe Nobutada (1565–1614) and the tea master Shōkadō Shōjō.

Although Hakuin’s artistic disciples are usually understood to be fellow Zen monks, it is now recognized that he exerted a considerable influence on professionally trained painters working in eighteenth-century Kyoto as well. The most famous among them is Ike no Taiga (1723–1776), who is known to have met Hakuin and coauthored works with the Zen master. However, Hakuin’s approach to painting may also have had a significant influence on other artists working in Kyoto and who painted Zen themes, such as Soga Shōhaku (1730–1781), Itō Jakuchū (1716–1800), and Maruyama Ōkyo (1733–1795). Although fully trained in polychrome painting and virtuosic ink painting, these painters occasionally adopted the powerfully simple, gestural approach of Hakuin to generate works of similar appeal.

Along with Hakuin, Sengai Gibon (1750–1837) can be cited as the most appealing Zenga artist of the Edo period. Although active three generations later, Sengai similarly painted Zen themes in ways that were direct, abbreviated, unassuming, and focused on quotidian themes. In contrast to Hakuin, however, Sengai developed a light, whimsical approach to painting that appears to have much in common with haiku poetry and its accompanying pictures (haiga). He spent much of his career in and around the city of Fukuoka in Kyushu Prefecture, where he developed a strong local following that continued well into the modern era. Sengai’s artistry is represented here by several works from the Gitter-Yelen Collection, including the only known handscroll by the artist in existence.

Along with Hakuin and Sengai, Jiun Onkō (1718–1804) can be counted among the most distinctive Zenga painters of the Edo period. Jiun, however, was not a Zen adherent but a monk of Esoteric Buddhism. Nevertheless, his paintings appear to be deeply marked by the approach of Hakuin and his followers, and Jiun painted well-known Zen themes such as the Bodhidharma meditating against a cave wall, of which two remarkable, brushy examples are included here.

Thanks to the deep holdings of the Gitter-Yelen Collection, this section presents Hakuin—and the construction of his lineage and legacy—in a much greater context. While Zenga has long been considered a distinct tradition from other established schools of Japanese painting, as some of the works here reveal, even painters outside the monastic tradition explored its many themes and personae, as well as its innovative and dramatic formal language, which favors bold and spontaneous strokes over studied and careful manipulation of the brush.

Following the Master

Many of Hakuin’s religious disciples continued his practice of using paintings to emphasize Zen teachings and engage with followers. Although most lacked his breadth of subject matter, especially with regard to allegorical painting, they nevertheless developed their own approach and distinctive appeal. This section highlights several of the most notable monk-painters in the Hakuin School, beginning with Hakuin’s two most prominent successors, Tōrei Enji (1721–1792) and Suiō Genro (1717–1789). Tōrei’s output is the more artistically dynamic, and his ensō (Zen circles) and staff paintings are particularly distinctive. Suiō’s paintings, meanwhile, are marked by low-key idiosyncrasies and humble humor. In recent years, Chingyū Zuikō (1743–1822) has attracted attention for his singularly eccentric approach to Zen figure painting.

With their inventive use of the Zenga canon and loose, gestural command of the brush, all of the artists in this section reflect the strong influence of Hakuin as both a teacher and a painter.

Zen Painting in the Twentieth Century

The beginning of Japan’s modern era is often traced back to the Meiji Restoration (1868), when the feudal regime of the Tokugawa shogunate was overthrown and a group of oligarchs led the nation’s rapid industrialization. The Zen establishment was greatly affected by these changes, and reform from within was led by monks such as Nakahara Nantenbō (1839–1925). Nantenbō was a fiery figure who used painting and calligraphy to convey teachings in the tradition of Hakuin and earlier Zenga masters. However, his works were often larger and even more gestural than those of his predecessors, possibly reflecting the changing circumstances and audiences for religious proselytization and art-making in modern Japan. 

One of the most interesting and influential monk-painters represented in the Gitter-Yelen Collection is Shaku Sōen (1860–1919), a key figure in the spread of Zen teachings internationally during the modern era. Among other things, Sōen is known for delivering the first lecture on Zen in English, at the World’s Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893. The author Paul Carus, upon hearing Sōen lecture, solicited the master’s help in translating key texts of Zen Buddhism into English for the first time. In Japan, Sōen became the abbot of the venerable Zen monastery Engakuji in Kamakura, and developed a large following of elites. His student D. T. Suzuki would become a famous popularizer of Zen in English, and his lectures at Columbia University in the 1950s influenced a generation of artists and thinkers.

By the time D. T. Suzuki arrived as a visiting lecturer at Columbia University in 1949, American artists had already begun to explore the principles of Zen. Mark Tobey, for example, traveled to Japan in 1935, residing in a monastery outside Kyoto, where he learned about Zen, calligraphy, and Japanese painting, an experience that would prove foundational to his work. Suzuki, however, as an indefatigable translator and author of books on Zen and as a professor, had a much greater influence on the perception of Zen and Zenga in the United States and Europe. His classes at Columbia proved extremely popular, meriting coverage in the New Yorker and Vogue magazine. Artists in attendance included John Cage, Philip Guston, Ad Reinhardt, Betty Parsons, and others, all of whom came to understand Zen principles and philosophy as articulated by Suzuki.

Many of the artists above experienced Zen directly through Suzuki, whereas others were exposed to Zen principles while studying elsewhere with Suzuki’s students, such as Franz Kline, who first encountered Zen through John Cage at Black Mountain College in the 1950s. Several of these Zen principles, as articulated by Suzuki, would prove foundational for many of the aesthetic and philosophical concerns of twentieth- and twenty-first century art, especially Abstract Expressionism and Conceptual art, and even international contemporary art.

Professor Suzuki’s interpretation of Zen was not strictly confined to one sect or practice. Indeed, Suzuki’s many publications and lectures sought to connect Zen principles—including repetition, emptiness, meditation, chance, gesture, and the koan—to many aspects of life, Japanese culture, and, of course, painting, which he frequently invoked as a metaphor for Zen. In addition, Suzuki borrowed from other forms of Buddhism and Asian philosophies, even referencing American Transcendentalism. His liberal, yet inspiring, interpretation of Zen formed the cornerstone of current-day American perceptions of Zen.