Kazuo Nakamura (1926–2002) produced one of the most varied, consistently original bodies of work of his generation. Born in Vancouver, interned as an “enemy alien” during the Second World War, and resettled in Ontario, he created paintings and sculptures over a career that spanned more than forty years. Inspired by his colleagues in Painters Eleven, he moved constantly between figuration and abstraction, experimenting with different styles and techniques as he sought to reveal the universal laws of nature found in science and mathematics. During his lifetime, Nakamura achieved a level of success that was virtually unprecedented for any Japanese Canadian artist. He opened doors for a new generation of artists today.
The Inspiration of Japanese Art
Kazuo Nakamura, Solitude 7, 1973, oil on linen, 61 x 76 cm, Christopher Cutts Gallery, Toronto.
Early critics writing about Kazuo Nakamura’s work often commented, in passing, on its “Oriental” sensibility, as if that quality were self-evident. They
referred to the delicate touch and sense of repose found in some of his paintings, and to their emphasis on nature. For the most part, these comments reflect a stereotypical and, at times, insensitive view that because Nakamura was of Japanese descent, by extension he would produce “Japanese art.”
George Elliott, writing about Nakamura’s work in 1954, was one of the first critics to draw the connection between the artist and Japanese art at length, stating: “He has two recognizable sources of subject-matter. One is what might be called a racial instinct for landscape. The traditional Japanese fragility, precision, simplicity, also a certain airy romance in landscape painting is in his work, although it is not especially Japanese in appearance.” Even the noted American critic Clement Greenberg, who was invited by Jock Macdonald (1897–1960) in 1957 to visit the studios of Painters Eleven, observed after seeing Nakamura’s work that the artist was “just a bit too captured by oriental ‘taste.’” This was not a compliment on Greenberg’s part, as he was notoriously anti-“Oriental” when it came to art.
Nakamura himself struggled with characterizations that his art reflected influences from Japanese culture. In a 1979 interview, Joan Murray posed the question:
Everyone notes that your work has something Japanese about it or Oriental at least. Were you actually thinking of Oriental art when you were working? K.N. No. J.M. Was it ingrown? K.N. I think it must have been ingrown.
Only once did Nakamura explicitly acknowledge that a quality of his work might be directly related to a Japanese artistic sensibility. When asked about the well-known critic J. Russell Harper’s comment that a certain “Eastern Feeling” existed in Nakamura’s paintings, the artist replied: “If there is any Eastern feeling in my work, it may be my use of mono colour, which is also quite common now in many contemporary painters.” Works ranging from the Inner Structure paintings to the 1960s landscapes, such as Blue Reflections, B.C., 1964, as well as the String paintings, all show Nakamura’s use of single dominant colour hues.
Kazuo Nakamura, Blue Reflections, B.C., 1964, oil on canvas, 127 x 160 cm, MacLaren Art Centre, Barrie.
Nakamura was aware early on—through his uncle and the Japanese art magazines he subscribed to—of the art being made in Japan. Yet his formal art education at Central Technical School and in the Toronto art scene exposed him to Western art, predominantly British. He may also simply have picked up on certain stylistic elements common to Japanese art through Western artists like Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890), who admired and emulated nineteenth-century Japanese woodcuts.
In the broadest of terms, it might be argued that Nakamura embraced the notion of immersion in nature because of his exposure to this idea in Japanese art and culture. Art historian Richard Hill quotes this statement made by Nakamura: “Man is never above nature. Man is with nature (Universal Evolution).” That said, similar broad statements can be found in a number of sources, including the most obvious derived from science.
Setting aside the question of themes, one can easily apply to Nakamura’s work terms such as “refinement,” “harmony,” “stillness,” “precision,” “irregularity,” or “untutored beauty” (wabi-sabi), which have a long history in the art and aesthetics of Japanese culture. Some of Nakamura’s sculptures, like Tower Structures, 1967, can be characterized as unrefined, unfinished, and thus linked specifically to the Japanese aesthetic of imperfection. Then again, they can also be related to the Neoplatonic idea of the imperfection of earthly forms, as Jerrold Morris asserted when he spoke of Nakamura taking on the project of the Greek philosophers.
Kazuo Nakamura, Tashme at Dusk, July/August 1944, 1944 Oil on board, 34.6 x 53 cm Private collection
Repatriation — Down the stairs to the bus logging operations [Tashme Camp], May 31, 1946, photographer unknown, Japanese Canadian Research Collection, University of British Columbia Archives, Vancouver. This photograph is believed to depict a moment wherein Japanese Canadians began their journeys to Eastern provinces in Canada or to Japan during their forced dispersal undertaken by the Federal Government.
Kazuo Nakamura, Untitled, 1951, watercolour on paper, 37 x 50 cm, private collection.
Kazuo Nakamura, Winter, Don River, 1949, graphite and watercolour, 38.1 x 56.8 cm, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto.
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Nakamura was aware early on—through his uncle and the Japanese art magazines he subscribed to—of the art being made in Japan. Yet his formal art education at Central Technical School and in the Toronto art scene exposed him to Western art, predominantly British. He may also simply have picked up on certain stylistic elements common to Japanese art through Western artists like Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890), who admired and emulated nineteenth-century Japanese woodcuts.
In the broadest of terms, it might be argued that Nakamura embraced the notion of immersion in nature because of his exposure to this idea in Japanese art and culture. Art historian Richard Hill quotes this statement made by Nakamura: “Man is never above nature. Man is with nature (Universal Evolution).” That said, similar broad statements can be found in a number of sources, including the most obvious derived from science.
Setting aside the question of themes, one can easily apply to Nakamura’s work terms such as “refinement,” “harmony,” “stillness,” “precision,” “irregularity,” or “untutored beauty” (wabi-sabi), which have a long history in the art and aesthetics of Japanese culture. Some of Nakamura’s sculptures, like Tower Structures, 1967, can be characterized as unrefined, unfinished, and thus linked specifically to the Japanese aesthetic of imperfection. Then again, they can also be related to the Neoplatonic idea of the imperfection of earthly forms, as Jerrold Morris asserted when he spoke of Nakamura taking on the project of the Greek philosophers.
Kazuo Nakamura, Untitled, 1955, Hydrocal plaster sculpture, 59 x 20.3 x 17.8 cm, private collection.
Kazuo Nakamura, Morning, 1962, oil on canvas, 106 x 94 cm, Collection of Rudy de Jonge.
Some might argue that stylistic traits such as the high horizon lines and predominant blues in landscapes like August, Morning Reflections, 1961, can be attributed to Japanese influences. However, the high horizon is also a feature of the mountainous landscape around Tashme, British Columbia, where Nakamura was interned between 1942 and 1944, and consequently is seen in western Canadian landscape art too. Certainly there are traces of an influence, but they are incidental, picked up here and there, some more consistently applied than others.
In fact, Nakamura’s fullest statement about Japanese culture suggests why unravelling these influences is so difficult. In an interview with David Fujino, he was asked about Japanese culture and its survival in Canada. He said he felt that with intermarrying it would be diluted to the point that it would disappear in fifty years. He explained:
We think in terms of a Japanese population bringing its culture; but whatever is the strongest cultural influence will influence the rest of the general culture. At a certain point, you see, there’s a certain culture that fits into the evolution of the universal culture. It’s the strongest influence, so really it doesn’t have to be pushed or forced…. If you look at European culture you’ll notice that different cultures move into each other; for example, Greek became Roman culture.
Nakamura reflects this idea in his description of the evolution of art: in the charts he uses to outline the process, Japanese art is absorbed in favour of progress toward a more universal art.
Perhaps because of this belief in a universal art, Nakamura was not interested in highlighting which elements in his work were Japanese and which were not. As Richard Hill has astutely recognized, Nakamura’s ongoing use of Prussian blue, as in Number Structure and Fractals, 1983, was a nod to Japanese indigo. However, to Nakamura this feature was not so much Japanese as it was universal: its origin may have been Japanese, but it had been folded into the universal culture for all to use. And as he strove to create more universal works with his Number Structure series, it became important not to show any discernable cultural influence. His concern, therefore, was not with the origin of an idea, style, or technique—Japanese or otherwise—but with applying it to our understanding of universal truths.
Kazuo Nakamura, Suspended Landscape, 1967, oil on canvas, 127.3 x 107.1 cm, The Robert McLaughlin Gallery, Oshawa.
Impressionism and post-impressionism
Nakamura reflects this idea in his description of
the evolution of art: in the charts he uses to outline the process, Japanese art is absorbed in favour of progress toward a more universal art.
Perhaps because of this belief in a universal art, Nakamura was not interested in highlighting which elements in his work were Japanese and which were not. As Richard Hill has astutely recognized, Nakamura’s ongoing use of Prussian blue, as in Number Structure and Fractals, 1983, was a nod to Japanese indigo. However, to Nakamura this feature was not so much Japanese as it was universal: its origin may have been Japanese, but it had been folded into the universal culture for all to use. And as he strove to create more universal works with his Number Structure series, it became important not to show any discernable cultural influence. His concern, therefore, was not with the origin of an idea, style, or technique—Japanese or otherwise—but with applying it to our understanding of universal truths.
Paul Cézanne, Chestnut Trees at Jas de Bouffan, c.1885–86, oil on canvas, 71.12 x 90.17 cm, Minneapolis Institute of Art.
Kazuo Nakamura, Inner Structure, 1961, oil on canvas, 61 x 79.4 cm, private collection.
Impressionism and post-impressionism
Nakamura reflects this idea in his description of the evolution of art: in the charts he uses to outline the process, Japanese art is absorbed in favour of progress toward a more universal art.
Perhaps because of this belief in a universal art, Nakamura was not interested in highlighting which elements in his work were Japanese and which were not. As Richard Hill has astutely recognized, Nakamura’s ongoing use of Prussian blue, as in Number Structure and Fractals, 1983, was a nod to Japanese indigo. However, to Nakamura this feature was not so much Japanese as it was universal: its origin may have been Japanese, but it had been folded into the universal culture for all to use. And as he strove to create more universal works with his Number Structure series, it became important not to show any discernable cultural influence. His concern, therefore, was not with the origin of an idea, style, or technique—Japanese or otherwise—but with applying it to our understanding of universal truths.
Paul Klee, Gefecht (Battle), 1930, gouache on cardboard, 36.2 cm x 47.8 cm, Bowdoin College Museum of Art, Brunswick, Maine.
Kazuo Nakamura, Composition 10-51, 1951.
We think in terms of a Japanese population bringing its culture; but whatever is the strongest cultural influence will influence the rest of the general culture. At a certain point, you see, there’s a certain culture that fits into the evolution of the universal culture. It’s the strongest influence, so really it doesn’t have to be pushed or forced…. If you look at European culture you’ll notice that different cultures move into each other; for example, Greek became Roman culture.
Nakamura reflects this idea in his description of the evolution of art: in the charts he uses to outline the process, Japanese art is absorbed in favour of progress toward a more universal art.
Perhaps because of this belief in a universal art, Nakamura was not interested in highlighting which elements in his work were Japanese and which were not. As Richard Hill has astutely recognized, Nakamura’s ongoing use of Prussian blue, as in Number Structure and Fractals, 1983, was a nod to Japanese indigo. However, to Nakamura this feature was not so much Japanese as it was universal: its origin may have been Japanese, but it had been folded into the universal culture for all to use. And as he strove to create more universal works with his Number Structure series, it became important not to show any discernable cultural influence. His concern, therefore, was not with the origin of an idea, style, or technique—Japanese or otherwise—but with applying it to our understanding of universal truths.
Kazuo Nakamura, Hemlocks, 1957, oil on tempered hardboard (Masonite), 84 x 108 cm, Collection of Jane Nakamura.
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