Ivy vines, bridges and floating fans

The image of painted fans spilling off from a bridge into a stream evokes the memory of the legendary journey made by a fifteenth-century shogun traveling from the center of Kyoto to an outlying temple. While crossing a bridge, one of the shogun's servants accidentally dropped his master's fan into the rushing water below. Struck by the sudden poignant reminder of beauty's fragility and fleeting nature, all in the shogun's retinue followed suit, casting their fans into the stream.

For the literate Japanese viewer, the image of ivy leaves set within long bands of color evoked a passage from the tenth-century collection of lyric episodes, Tales of Ise. In the ninth episode a group traveling to the east from Kyoto encounters an ascetic in a dark and narrow valley filled with ivy. The ascetic is implored by one forlorn traveler to carry back a message to his lady, who is waiting in the capital.

This skillful visual union of heretofore unjoined classical subjects in a common theme was a trademark of the seventeenth-century studio of Tawaraya Sotatsu (died circa 1642). In this instance, the two occasions provide ample reflection on the multiple meanings of happenstance.