
Pine Trees (Shorin-zu byobu)
A few pines loom and dissolve on two screens where the bare paper does the work of mist. Japan's finest ink painting, by most accounts.

A few pines loom and dissolve on two screens where the bare paper does the work of mist. Japan's finest ink painting, by most accounts.

A wall of rock fills two-thirds of the picture and shrinks the mule train below to nothing. Fan Kuan hid his signature in the leaves.

A collector loved the scroll so much he tried to have it burned with him at death. It was pulled from the fire in two pieces.

Fourteen near-black panels in an octagonal room, where your eyes adjusting to the dark is the point. Rothko died before it opened.

They called him One-Corner Ma. A scholar and a willow occupy one corner and the rest of the silk is left as air.

An empty pavilion, a few dry trees, no people at all. Ni Zan gave away his estate and spent his last years on a houseboat.

Two people sit shoulder to shoulder at a cafe table staring at nothing, pushed off to one side behind a run of empty tables.

Oi was Hokusai's daughter and studio collaborator, and her handling of lantern light against darkness beats anything else in the ukiyo-e of her time.

Gaslight in the windows of a new brick storefront on an empty Tokyo street. Yasuji died at twenty-five and got there before Hopper.