Experiences with Sumi-e
My appreciation of Japanese art and culture began in early childhood, blossoming from my enchantment with the Samurai. As a young man, I fell in love with the distinctive style of traditional Japanese architecture and the poetic elegance of Japanese garden design. And finally, Sushi, most notably Sashimi, is a delicacy I could eat every day of the week!
I have always been fascinated by Japanese calligraphy, or Shodo, which translates as The Way of Writing. It started upon my purchase of a calligraphy kit, to learn Kanji, one of the three scripts used in the Japanese language, while on a trip through South East Asia. In comparison, Sumi-e, which translates as Black Ink Painting, utilizes similar techniques in creating exquisite landscapes and abstract forms prized for their simplicity. As an artist, I decided to learn more about the significance surrounding Sumi-e and its technique.
Having a near 2,000-year-old history and being spiritly rooted in Zen Buddhism, Sumi-e’s earliest artists were Chinese Buddhist Monks, who took the practice to Japan in the mid-14th century. They were specialists in self-discipline and meditation. This meditation, and a deep contemplative state, was often used as preparation for creating such works of art. As an artform, Sumi-e conveys simplicity in its purest form. It is the art of less, where the utilization of white space is part of the overall work of art, alongside the black ink.
As I started my journey in Sumi-e, I focused on learning the proper technique for holding the brush to ensure the correct angles, balance, and pressure were used. In my research for the proper method, I found online tutorials from artists well versed in the art. From these, I learned that there is a rhythm to this art, from the grinding/mixing of the ink to the application of the brushstroke illustrating the essence of the subject.
As I learned the process, another thought occurred to me. What about the digital front? Could the right software and a drawing tablet accomplish a similar effect? How would it compare to the traditional method of Sumi-e?
In order to experiment with this idea, I needed supplies for both the print and digital mediums. I was intent on acquiring my traditional tools from Japan, but I found I was limited here in the U.S. I knew I only needed the basics: a few Sumi-e brushes, a black ink stick or Sumi Stick (I also purchased a red one), an ink stone or Suzuri (a shallow stone bowl used for grinding the ink stick into water), and lastly, rice paper or Washi, as the canvas. Where did I find these supplies? My research yielded a great source for Sumi-e supplies at Art Supplies Store (http://www.art-supplies-store.com), where one can order a variety of Japanese art supplies. I also found a U.S.-based artist, Elizabeth Schowachert, who makes exquisite hand-made Sumi-e brushes. You can find her site at https://elizabethschowachertart.com.
For the digital medium, I used a Wacom Cintiq drawing tablet (https://estore.wacom.com/en-US/screens/screens-displays.html) and Rebelle 5 software, which has an excellent assortment of lifelike brushes (https://www.escapemotions.com/products/rebelle).
I started with the digital approach, since this is a familiar medium for me. The Rebelle 5 software’s life-like brushes did not disappoint. The oils worked like oils, and the watercolors like watercolors. It came with a few preset Sumi-e brushes, so I started there. After testing the brush strokes and sensitivity from the drawing pen to the tablet, I got to work. After several attempts, I came up with the example you see in “Figure A – Digital Enso.” I chose the Enso due to its significance in Japanese calligraphy and culture. Meaning circle in Japanese, it is a common calligraphy symbol rooted in Zen Buddhism and carries a variety of meanings, such as enlightenment, elegance, and strength to name a few. Even though I was satisfied with what I had created, something didn’t feel quite right. Having painted with watercolor before, I felt disconnected from my art, limited, and a bit constrained by the software’s capabilities.
The traditional method, although a lot less forgiving, was enlightening to say the least. With the hum of the computer taken away, I began to relax and approach the art differently. The process was methodical. I laid everything out—rice paper in front, brushes to the side, ink stone and water in its place. I took the ink stick and began grinding it into the stone. This took time, yet it was relaxing. Breathing in, I began to still my mind, focusing on the present. Then, fully relaxed, I dipped my brush and applied the ink to the rice paper, doing my best to create an Enso circle. After 25 or so attempts, I had one with which I was pleased. (This is shown in “Figure B – Traditional Enso.”)
As an artist, I love drawing digitally and do so on a regular basis. I find it therapeutic in many ways and a fantastic avenue of expression. I have seen digital artists create incredible works of art, and some of my best pieces were created digitally. Regarding my experience with Sumi-e, however, I find the traditional technique cannot be matched. The method is an art form in its own right, proceeding the creation of the art itself. Digitally, I was able to create Sumi-e pieces I was happy with, but my brush strokes were limited in size, shape, and form, and the ink behaved in unpredictable ways. In the traditional method, I felt a greater degree of artistic expression in the brush strokes, from the application of the ink to the movement of the brush over the paper. Moving forward, I plan to continue exploring Sumi-e in hopes of becoming more proficient at it. It’s an artform I have come to truly appreciate.