Installation of Her Brush: Japanese Women Artists from the Fong-Johnstone Collection. Photograph by Eric Stephenson.

Unstoppable (No Barriers)

Each of the works in this section addresses the subject of perseverance, overcoming personal and societal obstacles, and shattering the glass ceiling.

These artists dared to leave their enduring mark through art.

A person stands in the center, look up and to the right with arms outstretched. Behind, a black inky splotch fills a white wall. Expand
A visitor in front of the interactive video projection in the last gallery of Her Brush, 2022. Photograph by Eric Stephenson.
A small frog leaps with outstretched limbs towards a delicately-brushed branch in the upper left-hand corner. Sprightly, cursive script occupies most of the paper ground, dwarfing the little frog. Expand
Ōishi Junkyō 大石順教, 1888–1968, Willow and Frog, mid-1900s. Ink on paper. Gift of Drs. John Fong and Colin Johnstone, 2018.157.

In this painting, Ōishi Junkyō borrows an anecdote from the life of the courtier Ono no Tofu (894–964) to express resilience and tenacity. Having failed to get a promotion seven times, the courtier was all but ready to quit. Dejected, he noticed a frog trying to reach a willow branch. Seven times, the frog leapt and failed. But then, mustering its strength, it jumped again—finally reaching the branch. Inspired, he persevered and on that eighth time succeeded, ultimately becoming an important statesman.

Two chrysanthemum blossoms in black ink in the upper right-hand of the frame rest atop a leafy stem that tapers to the bottom left. A signature and red stamp in the left-center. Expand
Yamamoto Shōtō 山本緗桃, 1757–1831, Chrysanthemums, late 1700s–early 1800s. Ink, color, and gold on silk. Gift of Drs. John Fong and Colin Johnstone, 2018.216.

Petal by petal, this blossoming cluster of chrysanthemums unfolds against a subtle ink wash on plain silk. In lyrical gradations, the monochromatic ink merges with the dabs of green and pools at the edges of the leaves, vesting them with grace and beauty.

Little is known of Yamamoto Shōtō’s background, but her enduring mark survives though her own art and her legacy: her children followed her path, and her granddaughter, Yamamoto Suiun (active 1800s), became an accomplished painter.

On the left, a stick-figure-like sketch of a sign, barely balancing on a wobbly post. To the right, four lines of unsteady-looking calligraphy at varying heights. Expand
Takabatake Shikibu 高畠式部, 1785–1881, Signboard, 1863. Ink on paper, Gift of Drs. John Fong and Colin Johnstone, 2018.253

In Takabatake Shikibu’s time, signboards such as this commonly posted governmental edicts. In a veiled critique of unjust rules and restrictions, Shikibu asserts that nature and reason will ultimately prevail.

Flowering branches
must not be broken off.
So says the signboard.
But with whose permission
does the storm blow over it?

On the left, the moon looms large behind a Sakura branch rendered in soft ink and light ochres. On the right, a poem in thin calligraphy. Expand
Ōtagaki Rengetsu 太田垣蓮月, 1791–1875, Moon, Blossoming Cherry, and Poem, 1867. Ink and color on paper. Gift of Drs. John Fong and Colin Johnstone, 2018.164.

Being a nun, Ōtagaki Rengetsu could travel freely despite state-imposed restrictions on unaccompanied women travelers. Still, innkeepers commonly refused nuns lodging. The poem reflects her endurance as she found (and created) beauty despite the inn turning her away and having to spend the night unsheltered:

The inn refuses me,
but their slight is a kindness.
I make my bed instead
below the cherry blossoms
with the hazy moon above.