Kusumi Morikage (ca. 1620–1690)
Hanging scroll, Ink on paper
This Japanese hanging scroll depicts a solitary wild goose standing beside reeds on a low riverbank. Although the subject is simple, the painting displays extraordinary control of water, ink, speed, and empty space. Its apparent ease is supported by a sophisticated command of Kano-school technique, subsequently transformed into the intimate and individual language for which Kusumi Morikage became celebrated.
Morikage studied under Kano Tan’yu, painter-in-attendance to the Tokugawa shogunate and the leading Kano master of the seventeenth century. He quickly distinguished himself from Tan’yu’s other pupils and was counted, together with Tsurusawa Tanzan, Momota Ryuei, and Kotari Joan, among the master’s four principal students. Tan’yu permitted him to take the name Morikage, derived in part from Tan’yu’s own given name, Morinobu. Morikage’s marriage to Tan’yu’s niece further indicates the expectations placed upon him within a school in which artistic authority and family relationships were closely intertwined.¹
His position within the Kano establishment is also demonstrated by his participation in important architectural commissions. He contributed to interior paintings at Chion’in and Shojuraikoji and worked on paintings at Zuiryuji, the family temple of the Maeda rulers of the Kaga domain. The “honest, conscientious style of ink painting” that Morikage acquired through this training provided the indispensable foundation for his later independence.
After leaving Tan’yu’s atelier, Morikage developed close ties with the Maeda clan and spent several years in Kanazawa. Rather than abandoning Kano technique, he redirected it toward rural life, familiar landscapes, animals, and plants. Subjects inherited from Chinese painting were increasingly situated within Japanese settings and invested with a warmth, humor, and attentiveness to ordinary life that became distinctly his own.
The present painting exemplifies this transformation. The low riverbank is formed almost entirely through water and diluted ink. Its contours are not enclosed by fixed lines but emerge gradually through overlapping washes, passing almost imperceptibly from pale gray to deeper tones. The transitions are exceptionally transparent: water is not merely a vehicle for ink but an active element that creates atmosphere, moisture, light, and physical substance. The bank seems to hover between solidity and dissolution.
The goose is equally remarkable. Its head and long neck are modeled through subtle tonal transitions, with darker ink gathering around the crown, eye, and back of the neck before fading into softer gray. The bird appears alert and almost self-aware. This quality recalls the observation that Morikage’s animals frequently possess expressions that seem “abundantly human.” The upward tilt of the head suggests a moment of listening or watchfulness, giving the solitary bird an emotional presence beyond straightforward naturalistic description.
The beak is defined by only a few swift and exact lines. Their abbreviated speed recalls cursive calligraphy: the brush moves decisively, without correction, yet the structure of the beak is perfectly understood. Repeated dark touches articulate the feathers along the back, while broader dry strokes establish the wings and tail. The body is built through contrasting techniques—wet wash, concentrated dots, dry brush, and broken line—without losing its unity.
The reeds on the right are the most daring passage. Their stalks and leaves are executed with cursive, partially broken strokes, some saturated with ink and others split by the dryness of the brush. Only a few marks are required to suggest their structure and movement. As the reeds rise, they become progressively lighter, extending across nearly half the sheet before almost disappearing into the unpainted paper. The scarcely visible upper growth completes the composition precisely because it remains on the threshold of perception.
The relationship between the dark goose and the pale reeds establishes a subtle balance of yin and yang: dense and empty, dark and light, weight and air, presence and absence. The bird anchors the lower portion of the composition, while the nearly invisible reeds activate the open space above. The blank paper is therefore not an untouched background but a living field of mist, light, and silence.
Morikage’s landscapes are often characterized by bold lines and architectonic structure, yet his paintings of animals and plants reveal a more playful and intuitive side of his art. The present scroll combines both qualities. The firmly constructed bird reflects the discipline of his Kano training, while the wet earth, broken reeds, and expansive emptiness reveal the freedom of his mature personal style.
A bank, a bird, and a few reeds are sufficient to evoke an entire waterside world. In this transformation of emptiness into presence, the scroll becomes a compelling expression of Zen aesthetics: quiet without stillness, spare without poverty, and seemingly effortless despite its exceptional technical control.
Signed at lower right “Morikage hitsu” (守景筆).
Image: 47¼ × 25⅝ inches (120 × 65 cm)
Scroll: 90½ × 31½ inches (230 × 80 cm)
This work was featured in the special exhibition Time Well Wasted: Five Hundred Years of Japanese Ink Painting, held at Michaan’s Auctions from August 16 to 21, 2026, and is illustrated on page 35-38 of the accompanying book by Jingwei Zeng.
Note
- Suntory Museum of Art, “Kusumi Morikage: From Adversity, a Gentle Gaze at Familiar Things,” sections 1, “The Starting Point: The Kano School,” and 4, “Morikage’s Wit: People, Animals, and Plants,” exhibition held October 10–November 29, 2015, accessed August 9, 2026.
For condition report and additional photos, please contact the Asian Art Department.
