Guo Xuehu displayed his paintings in the tōyōga division of the Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition. Nihonga painter and juror, Araki Jippo, made following comments on works in the tōyōga division at the salon in 1935:

I have heard that at the first and second Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition there were some extremely crude literati landscapes and flower paintings. Today, works on display have progressed and aren't any different from contemporary nihonga. It is truly a remarkable development (Araki Jippo, Taiwan zakkan. Gendai bijutsu, 58.). 

Already in 1927, Japanese art critic, Ōsawa Sadayoshi (1886-?), suggested that the division itself was improperly named and should be called nihonga instead (Kikuchi, ed. 86). Also, when Taiwanese tōyōga artists submitted their paintings to the salons in Tokyo in the 1930s and early 1940s, their works were on display in the nihonga division.  

To address this conflation of nihonga and tōyōga, art historian Yen Chuanying has proposed an expanded definition of nihonga for the colonial period. She has described nihonga as painting with Eastern qualities under Japan's leadership (Yen Chuanying, “’Nihonga’ no shi: Nihon tōsei jidai ni okeru bijutsu hatten no konnan,” Bijutsu kenkyū, no. 398 (2009): 296. See also: New Visions 145). Similarly, Jason Kuo has argued that the naming of tōyōga division reflected Japan's ambitions to best represent East Asian art (add ref.).

Yen's political take on nihonga takes into account nihonga's popularity in Taiwan as well as its material affinity to painting in other East Asian countries vis-a-vis oil painting. It points to the cultural imperialism inherent in the official exhibitions' and Japanese artists' promotion of nihonga in the colonies. I argue that in the process Japanese artists lost their monopoly on nihonga. By the 1930s, nihonga became a creative medium for some Taiwanese Chinese artists. The naming of the tōyōga division helped to obscure this fact.

The shift in the meaning of nihonga became even more apparent in the early 1940s, when art critics in Japan began to discuss the implementation of the ideals of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere (Daitōa kyōeiken) in art. Some art critics found it difficult to praise paintings at the metropolitan salon simply for depicting ideologically relevant and politically correct subject matter. So, they were relieved to notice paintings by young Korean and Taiwanese artists in the nihonga division. Art critics envisioned these colonial artists as the vanguard, leading the metropolitan salon to becoming a center for all cutting-edge artists from each region of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere in the near future (add ref to my dissertation, Kolodziej, 217-218; Ōyama Hiromitsu, and Kimura Shigeo, “Bunten nihonga hihyō tayori,” Kokuga 2, no. 11 (1942): 37.). Such comments suggest that, under the wartime regime and imperialization policies, art critics began to imagine the boundaries between Japanese, Korean, and Taiwanese art in new ways.
One of Guo Xuehu's most striking works is "Solitude" (also translated as "Silence," Jakukyō in Japanese) from the 1933 Taiwan salon. This work is said to have been inspired by Guo's visit to the Nanzen Temple in Kyoto, during his first trip to Japan in autumn of 1931 (The Art of Kuo Hsueh-hu 1989, 25). This painting includes typical elements of a literati landscape, with mountains, a waterfall, and trees. Yet, the unusual composition and execution in all encompassing dark color make it appear so fresh and modern, foreshadowing developments of postwar nihonga.   

Guo Xuehu did not study art in Japan for any extended period, nor did he exhibit his works there in the prewar period, unlike some of his more wealthy peers. The Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition, the Taiwan Government-General Library, and the community of Japanese-settler artists in Taipei brought him into the purview of Japan's imperial art world. His paintings shared the stylistic and thematic concerns with nihonga artists, pushing the boundaries of the medium, and redefining its very premises. By rendering the distinction between nihonga and tōyōga superfluous, his work complicates our understanding of nihonga as simply "Japanese-style painting" or neo-traditional painting.

For more discussion of the term tōyō and tōyōga see here. 

On October 28 1927, the first Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition opened in Taipei. It attracted a large crowd of 28119 visitors in only ten days (Taiwan Sōtokufu Bunkyōkyoku Shakaika, ed. Taiwan shakai kyōiku gayō (Taipei: Seibunsha, 1934), 74.). This juried salon for contemporary painting catered to interests of the Japanese colonial government and settler-artists. It projected an image of Japan as a benevolent colonizer, captured the attention of local audiences, functioned as part of the cultural assimilation policy, and provided Japanese artists in Taiwan with a highly publicized opportunity to promote their art. In addition, the salon attracted some Taiwanese Chinese artists. The young, largely self-taught painter Guo Xuehu (1908-2012) was one of them. (For a database with reproductions of all the Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition works click here. To learn more about the salon see: New Visions, compilation by Yen, square book). 

In fact, Guo Xuehu became one of the only three Taiwanese Chinese whose works were accepted to the tōyōga divison at the first Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition. By 1932, he had established his position as a successful emerging artist in Taipei's art circles. In an essay penned in response to a Taiwan-wide competition for library users' stories, he looked back at his artistic debut and singled out the library as his "unparalleled teacher." The essay received the second prize and was published in the Japanese language newspaper Taiwan nichinichi shinpō, turning him into a role model for other artists in Taiwan, who were not able to afford studying with an instructor or enroll in an art school in Japan (Compare: Yen in Refracted modernity 103, Liao 2002:216-7). For an English translation of the essay click here. 

This module explores artistic infrastructures and the circulation of artistic knowledge in the Japanese empire by focusing on Guo Xuehu's essay. By the early 1930s, artists in Japan were becoming aware of Taiwan's art scene and many painters traveled to the island in pursuit of subject matter. Similarly, Japanese art world began to loom large in the imagination of young aspiring painters in Taiwan, which included Japanese settlers and Taiwanese Chinese. Some of these aspiring artists would leave Taiwan for Japan in pursuit of an artistic education and career.

Today, Guo Xuehu is considered to be a master of twentieth century painting in Taiwan. However, he is largely absent from the narratives of Japanese modern art. The national approach to Japanese modern art history obscures the involvement of Japanese artists in the imperial expansion as well as the presence of Korean and Taiwanese artists within the purview of the empire. By highlighting the intimacy between the Taiwanese and Japanese art worlds, this project helps us envision the Japanese art world in the 1930s on new terms. In this way, it is part of a larger body of scholarship that is committed to reshaping our understanding of space and boundaries of Japan as a multi-ethnic nation and a multi-national state in the interwar period (See for example: Oguma, Self-Images, Boundaries; Tessa Morris-Suzuki Reinventing Japan 1998; Kate McDonald, Placing Empire). 

I argue that in the interwar period Japan's was an imperial art world (teikoku bijutsukai), intimately intertwined with the art worlds of Korea and Taiwan. The spaces of art exhibitions, ateliers, art schools, personal networks, and newspaper pages constituted this imperial art world. Circulation of information, goods, and people within the Japanese empire stimulated its emergence. It expanded as a spatial entity and a powerful idea. Artists, be it Japanese painters, settler-artists, or colonial subjects, came to understand and negotiate their own place within it. As producers of representations, they also shaped its image. An approach to Japanese modern art history that omits the empire is simply untenable. 

This module consists of three interlocking pathways that coalesce around Guo Xuehu's prize-winning essay. Each pathway explores the intimacy between Japan's and Taiwan's art worlds through a different scale and infrastructure: 1) practice and discourse of art education (information/knowledge), 2) institution of the library and books (built environment, vehicles), and 3) a career of an individual artist (figure). Each pathway introduces relevant primary sources and questions as a material for discussion and research projects in a university classroom.

This page is tagged by: Flows, Built Environment, Vehicle, Information / Knowledge, Figure

Born in 1908, Guo Xuehu belongs to the first generation of artists in Taiwan who grew up under the Japanese colonial rule and who achieved professional recognition at the annual Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition (est. 1927). He traveled for the first time to Japan in 1931, visiting museums, temples, and artists in Kyoto and Tokyo. He returned to Japan in the 1950s and then moved there permanently in 1964. In 1978 he settled in Richmond, California. He passed away in 2012 (ADD REF: Ex. cat. 1989 p. 25 + newer cat).

The word "artist" doesn't have apparent spatial connotations like the word "migrant." Yet, artists often travel or resettle in search of art education, subject matter, or art markets. More importantly, artists shape and mediate our understanding of place by representing landscapes and people in their art. Art historians evoke place when referring to an artist's country of origin, nationality, or ethnicity. They (we!) often unselfconsciously reinforce these spatial categories when working within an established canon.

Furthermore, art historians divide artworks into location-derived categories. For example, painting in Japan in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century has been divided into two categories: nihonga and seiyōga. Both of these categories evoke spatial entities, "Japan" and "the West" respectively. Artists and bureaucrats in Japan established these two categories in response to West's cultural imperialism. Institutions such as exhibitions, art associations, and art schools, upheld this division of painting into nihonga and seiyōga. However, the spatial associations of these two terms work to obscure rather than illuminate the actual artistic practice. Nihonga and seiyōga paintings share many stylistic and thematic similarities and the boundaries between them were often fluid. Artists in Japan debated the meanings of each category and many artists engaged in both media. Both categories reflect a Japan-centric view of global art in the time of empire. 

This pathway examines Guo Xuehu's early career to illuminate how the artistic infrastructures of the Japanese empire influenced his early development as an artist and how, in turn, his work shaped the boundaries of nihonga. Guo Xuehu submitted his paintings to the tōyōga division of the Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition. The term tōyōga evokes the spatial category of "the East" or "the Orient." However, paintings displayed in this category in Taiwan excluded literati painting. Instead, they centered nihonga works as the present and future of East Asian art and a worthy counterpart to oil painting. Ultimately, by promoting nihonga in the colony, Japanese artists lost their putative monopoly on nihonga and it became a creative medium for some Taiwanese-Chinese artists.

Moreover, this pathway demonstrates what it took to become an artist in the Japanese empire in the 1920s and 1930s. Guo Xuehu did not follow a typical path to artistic success because he was largely self-taught. Yet, as a an artist with an excellent exhibition record, he became successful in Taiwan's art establishment.

Questions for the classroom:

• What are the points of convergence and the respective silences in the histories of modern Taiwanese and Japanese art?
• How would Japanese modern art history look like if it featured Guo Xuehu as one of its protagonists?
• Why would art historians of Japan include him in their history? Or shouldn't they (we)?
• At what point has nihonga stopped being an artistic medium particular to Japan and Japanese artists? How can we conceptually describe this process? 

We can get a detailed understanding of available books by examining the collection catalogues. The library published its first classified catalogue in 1918 and every few years thereafter brought out additional volumes to account for its expanding collection and make it more easily searchable for the library users. Click here to see the classified catalogue of books in the arts, industry, and home economics sections acquired between 1918 and 1927.

Now, let us look at the 800 Arts section of the catalogue. This rather mundane classification of books into subsections, designed to improve access to information, largely followed the categorization scheme developed for the Imperial Library in the Meiji period. It reflected hierarchies between the genres and mapped out the boundaries of painting very loosely along geographic (but not necessarily ethnic) lines.

The subject headings in the "Arts" section of the Japanese and Chinese language books (Wakan tosho) catalogue contains the following subheadings:

• 800 Arts (Geijutsu)
• 810 Calligraphy and Painting (Shoga)
• 820 Sculpture and Metalwork
• 830 Lacquer
• 840 Plate-making and Printing
• 850 Photography
• 860 Music
• 870 Entertainment and Leisure

The 810 subsection for Calligraphy and Painting contains the following subheadings:

• 811 Painting / General
• 812 Japanese Painting (Nihonga) and Chinese Painting (Shinaga)
• 813 Japanese Painting (Nihonga) and Chinese Painting (Shinaga) / Organized by School
• 814 Western Painting (Yōga) and Contemporary Painting (Gendaiga)
• 815 Calligraphy (Sho)
• 816 Stylized Signatures (Kaō)
• 817 Seal Engraving, Books of Seals, Seals

The library's categorization does not include a subheading named "tōyōga," which was the word Guo Xuehu used to describe one kind of painting he was studying at the library. The word tōyōga (lit. Eastern Painting) has appeared in publications in Japan in the Meiji period to compare and distinguish East Asian painting from its Western counterpart, seiyōga (also known as yōga). In fact, the subheading 812/813 encompasses Japanese and Chinese painting and corresponds to tōyōga. Section 8137, a subsection of 813, includes Chinese painting, Southern School, Northern School, and Literati Painting. The few books on Korean painting in the catalogue can also be found under the 812/813 subject heading.

The term tōyōga evokes the spatial category of "the East." Stefan Tanaka has argued that tōyō, understood as China's past, was Japan's version of the "Orient," or the uncivilized Other. He demonstrated how historian Shiratori Kurakichi (1865-1942), by strategically stressing similarities and differences between Japan and tōyō, succeeded in constructing a history of Japan that situated it within the framework of world history and elevated it as a modernized country in contrast to China, "a troubled placed mired in its past" (Tanaka, 1995, 4).

Similarly, artists and critics in Meiji and Taishō period Japan, faced with the cultural imperialism of oil painting made in the West and with western Orientalism, responded with their own discourse on Japanese and East Asian art. This discourse aimed to prove the value and modernity of East Asian art, with Japan's art at its center. Japan's own Orientalism elevated selected genres of pre-modern East Asian art, while at the same time paying little heed to contemporary artistic production in colonized areas such as Korea and Taiwan. The attitudes towards Chinese art were more complex. In the 1920s and 1930s, artists from Japan and China organized a series of exhibitions together (Wong, Parting the Mists, 2006). At the same time, they also competed with each other to represent East Asia through exhibitions in Europe and the USA (Add ref to Stephanie Su upcoming article). (For more discussion of tōyōga and nihonga in relation to Guo Xuehu's paintings see here). The inclusion of Japanese and Chinese painting under the same subheading gestures to this competition.  

It is important to clarify that the category of seiyōga encompassed both paintings produced by European artists as well as works in oil and watercolor by Japanese artists. Thus, the distinction between tōyōga/nihonga and seiyōga was one of medium and widely conceived artistic traditions or "schools" rather than simply a geographic designation or a label referring to the artist’s ethnicity/national origins. In a world where the access to art knowledge was growing globally and the differences in art education would shrink considerably in the decades to come (notice how Guo Xuehu points out the "dozens of thousands people" as his potential art teachers in the library), policing regional differences became an increasingly complex undertaking.

For more discussion of tōyōga and nihonga in relation to Guo Xuehu's work see here. 

In his book for aspiring oil painters, Yamamoto Kanae, an oil painter himself, provided the following advice:

Another method to study painting is to see as many paintings as possible. I suggest going to exhibitions or, if one has an invitation, visiting ateliers of acquainted painters or those who live in the neighborhood. Above all, to work in oil painting, one has to see a lot of pictures by noted western artists. However, unless one travels to the West, it is impossible to see the original artworks. For this reason I advise to collect many photographic reproductions of famous works (Abura no egakikata, 38).

Writing in 1919, Yamamoto Kanae emphasizes the importance of perusing photographic reproductions at a time when access to original works (in this case oil paintings produced in the West) was limited. 

Similarly, an observer writing for the Taiwan nichinichi shinpō in November 1930 advised artists in the tōyōga division of the Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition to study old paintings in private collections and by using the library. He pointed out that the Taipei library had the full run of the prestigious journal Kokka (Flowers of the Nation), twenty-volume set of Shinbi taikan (Selected Relics of Japanese Art), and many other books with reproductions (gashū) of works from various painting schools (Hekiteishujin, "Taiten no ato ni" Taiwan nichinichi shinpō, 11 November 1930). Both Kokka and Shinbi taikan featured large size reproductions in highest print quality.

Another important medium that provided reproductions were art postcards. Sold at major art exhibitions, they enjoyed great popularity throughout the 1920s and 1930s with exhibition visitors and aspiring artists. In contrast to primarily black and white reproductions in art journals, the art postcards from major exhibitions in Japan at the time were printed in color, which greatly contributed to their appeal. Art postcards turned artworks into small, uniform, inexpensive, yet visually pleasant collectibles. They were easily transportable and allowed anyone to assemble a small “art collection.” Painter and exhibition juror Okada Saburōsuke (1869-1939) stated that since there was no permanent museum for modern art in Tokyo and art exhibitions were "temporary just like music," only art postcards would help one to recall the artworks they had earlier seen in an exhibition (“Jōsetsu bijutsukan no mondai,” Atorie 10, no. 1 (1933): 6). Also, artists used art postcards to promote their own work and exchange with their colleagues (ADD ref to my article in Tano zemi ronbunshu).

Many artists collected art postcards and made scrapbooks with reproductions of artworks. Today, some of the most well known extant examples of such collections belong to a Korean watercolor and oil artist Yi Insŏng (1912-1950) and two Taiwanese-Chinese oil painters, Chen Chengbo (1895-1947) and Chen Zhiqi (1906-1931). Yi Insŏng's art postcard collection was on display at the National Museum of Contemporary Art as part of "The Centennial Celebration of Lee In-Sung's Birth" exhibition in 2012. This collection includes an art postcard of Liao Jichun's painting "Landscape with Palm Trees" (Yashi no aru fūkei) from the twelfth Imperial Academy of Fine Arts Exhibition in 1928, suggesting that Yi Insŏng had some interest in the work of his peers in Japan's other colony. You can see a few art postcards from Chen Chengbo's collection on this page. To view the whole collection visit the Chen Cheng-po Cultural Foundation's website.

Guo Xuehu made his artistic debut in the fall of 1927, when his work titled "Stream Through Pine Ravine" (Shōgaku hisen) got accepted to the first Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition. He was one of the only three Taiwanese-Chinese artists, whose works got accepted to the tōyōga division. The other two artists, Chen Jin (1907-1998) and Lin Yushan (1907-2004), were one year older than Guo Xuehu, and had studied in Japan. Art critics named Chen Jin, Lin Yushan, and Guo Xuehu the "Three Youths of the Taiwan Salon" (Taiten san shōnen), gesturing to their very young age (for an artist with an exhibition record) and the scandalous fact that all senior and much more experienced Taiwanese-Chinese artists in the tōyōga category, including Cai Xuexi, had their works rejected. Taiwan nichinichi shinpō announced the names of all artists and work titles accepted to the exhibition, reproduced selected works, and published multiple reviews. As a self-taught artist, Guo Xuehu felt enormous pressure to prove himself the following year.

"Stream Through Pine Ravine" is not a painting of an actual landscape. It is an ideal literati landscape, which includes all the common tropes, such as pine trees, waterfall, mountains, rocks, forests, and fog. At the same time, these elements are arranged in a way that creates a sense of perspective. For example, we can see smaller pines in the upper part of the work and bigger pines in the lower part. Also, the use of lighter and darker ink in the depiction of the mountains subtly enhances the sense of depth (New Visions, 24).

At the opening ceremony of the first Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition, Gotō Fumio (1884-1980), the Vice-Governor General, spoke to the crowd of invited guests and expressed his hopes that the exhibition would flourish and contribute to the “imperial art world” (teikoku bijutsukai) (“Nankoku bijutsu no dendō o kizuku hatsu no Taiwan Bijutsu Tenrankai"). The organizers also read congratulatory telegrams from Japan’s Minister of Education and the former organizer of the Korea Fine Arts Exhibition (Chōsen bijutsu tenrankai) Mizuno Rentarō (1868-1949), the director of the Imperial Fine Arts Academy Fukuhara Ryōjirō (1868-1932), and the director of the Tokyo School of Fine Arts Masaki Naohiko (1862-1940) (Nihon bijutsu nenkan Shōwa 3-nen, 41). Thus, the organizers mobilized their contacts to major bureaucrats in the metropole to position their efforts within the imperial framework of art patronage.

The Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition was run with the help of four Japanese artists residing on the island: Gōhara Kotō (1887-1965), Kinoshita Seigai (1887-1988), Ishikawa Kin’ichirō (1871-1945), and Shiotsuki Tōho (1886-1954). The majority of participating artists were Japanese settlers (For the statistics on participation, see: square book & new visions). Some Taiwanese-Chinese were also interested in participating in this exhibition. 

By the time the first Taiwan Fine Arts Exhibition opened in Taipei, Japanese residents of the island were familiar with the hustle and bustle of the "artistic autumn" (bijutsu no aki) in the metropole. Taiwan nichinichi shinpō had for years been regularly reporting on the salon in Tokyo and other art-related events. The power of the press helped shape the popular image of an artist as a successful exhibition participant and a public figure. Also, exhibition participation promised an opportunity for sales and elevating an artist's standing in the art market. Nearly two months in advance of the salon's first opening in Taipei, the newspaper began extensive reporting on the topic, with the hopes of attracting potential participants and garnering a wide interest. Some anti-colonialists also supported Taiwanese-Chinese artists' participation in the official exhibitions, in belief that it was important to foster Taiwan's cultural production and demonstrate the accomplishments of Taiwan's artists (Jason Kuo 2000 add page number).