s interesting about his own. He spoke of
the effect made on him by some English pictures. "I have seen a number
of English and European pictures," he said; "but they all appear to me
very much alike. I hear that in England and all over Europe they say
the Japanese pictures look to them all alike. Why is this?" The
explanation was not immediately forthcoming, for at first sight it
seemed so extraordinary that to this man English pictures looked all
alike. But immediately the truth forced itself upon me, as it will force
itself upon the reader. European pictures are all wonderfully alike. It
struck me that when, not long before, I was on a "hanging committee,"
and had passing before me several thousand pictures, it was only here
and there that my attention was arrested by the individuality of some of
the work. For the most part they were the same pigments, the same high
lights, and the same deep shadows; and mentally seeing this procession
of pictures pass before me, I could not avoid seeing how grievously
alike European pictures were. I had in some sort, indeed, felt this
before, and was delighted on having the impression "fixed," so to speak,
by the Japanese master.

I saw a number of Japanese pictures, and I certainly found them far more
individual than our work is. We say these Japanese works are insipid,
out of perspective, and all pretty much the same. Here is a painter of
Japan who brings a similar charge against our much more complex
pictures--this, surely, is a new and a valuable lesson, full of
suggestion for the thoughtful painter!

[Illustration: THE STALL BY THE BRIDGE]

Kiyosai next began to discuss drawing, and, as he was speaking to an
Englishman, English drawing in particular. "I hear that when artists in
England are painting," he said, "if they are painting a bird, they stand
that bird up in their back garden, or in their studio, and begin to
paint it at once, then and there, never quite deciding what they are
going to paint, never thinking of the particular pose and action of the
bird that is to be represented on the canvas. Now, suppose that bird
suddenly moves one leg up--what does the English artist do then?" He
could not understand how an English painter could paint with the model
before him. I naturally told him that they copied what they saw; that
they got over the difficulty as best they could. "I do not quite
understand that," he said. "In my own practice I look at the bird; I
want to paint h