. Recollections and reflections of a Japanese artist. e to-day, I wonder! As I said in Chapter IV, if one finds out thecentre of gravity of his emotion he can liftup his deep emotion with a few words. Andwhy could the real genuine Impressionist notdo the same with his brush ? I rememberwhen I was a boy, my father had a was entitled The Field of Saga. Saga has some very pathetic legend. TheEmperor Takakura was deeply in love with abeautiful woman called Kogo. But the PrimeMinister Kiyomori wanted to make his owndaughter as the Empress, so that he couldbecome the grandfather of the fu
. Recollections and reflections of a Japanese artist. e to-day, I wonder! As I said in Chapter IV, if one finds out thecentre of gravity of his emotion he can liftup his deep emotion with a few words. Andwhy could the real genuine Impressionist notdo the same with his brush ? I rememberwhen I was a boy, my father had a was entitled The Field of Saga. Saga has some very pathetic legend. TheEmperor Takakura was deeply in love with abeautiful woman called Kogo. But the PrimeMinister Kiyomori wanted to make his owndaughter as the Empress, so that he couldbecome the grandfather of the future treated poor Kogo very badly, 9,nd onemoonlight night in Autumn she ran away tothe field of Saga, where she passed a very sadand pathetic life. Now that picture called Saga had no figureof Kogo, nor even her cottage nor her a few Autumn meadow flowers werepainted with a few strokes of the common flowers we can see everywhere,and not only in Saga. I doubt even whetherthe artist has seen those flowers in Saga. 224. THE POST-IMPRESSIONIST AND OTHERS Most probably it was only his , strange to say, whenever I saw thatpicture, it made me recollect the whole historyof Kogo, and I often wept over the why ? Well, I believe the artist musthave recollected that history, and was deeplystruck by his emotion in such a way as this: Alas! The autumn has gone and theautumn has come back again and again. Inthese many years, even her bones are trans-formed into the earth. Now we see nothingbut the same meadow flowers growing thereevery autumn. Perchance these flowers werethere when poor Kogo visited here. Shemust have seen them through her simple flowers must have looked verysad to her (the simpleness of the nature isjust like the mirror which reflects every feel-ing of the spectators). Oh, these flowers musthave looked to her like this and like that. Thus the artist gave each stroke of hisbrush with his emotion as if he
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookpublisherphila, bookyear1913
