Artist Mr. Ikuo Hirayama, a Personal Sketch
The words “Silk Road” became so familiar in Japan due largely to the paintings and lectures by the famous painter Hirayama Ikuo. His works depicted people and scenes from along the ancient land and sea routes that connected cultures over a thousand years from Nara to Rome. Hirayama stretched the ‘Silk Road’ concept even further. To the east, unknown to many, his theme even arrived at a small town named Hanford in the San Joaquin Valley of central California, bringing his message of peace to the people of America, even as that country was engrossed in two wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, places that were strong Silk Road cultural centers. This exhibition was held in a small museum of Japanese art, set among cow pastures and peach orchards. My daughter happened to be one of the organizers, so our family joined with his family to enjoy the opening of his first and only exhibition in America. Although Mr. Hirayama himself had to cancel at the last minute, his spirit was definitely there.
His paintings with their lustrous hues included many scenes from the Middle East. I saw American grannies enthralled by the “Dim Moon at Persopolis” (Iran) with its striking lapis lazurli blue background. The people who lived in those places were represented, too, with the “ Fishermen on the Tigris” (Iraq) and the unforgettably proud wizened face of the “Old Afghan Resting Under a Tree”. The visitors to the exhibition were given a familiarity with the cultural heritages of those regions that are usually depicted in the media as war zones. Hirayama’s message was clear: these people have a long history of cultural exchange and we must protect and understand their traditions that may hopefully translate into a mindset of peace. His authority was his own eye, after traveling the length and breath of these routes over the past forty years.
It was his passion for recognizing valuable cultural assets and calling for their preservation that was as well know as his Nihonga art. The caves at Dunhuang in China’s Gansu Province are a case in point where he focused light on the need to protect this treasure-trove of Buddhist art and history. I happened to be in China during many of his visits over the past fifteen years. He often touched some of the most sensitive issues. For example was his involvement in the restoration of the old Nanjing City Walls, a project that also brought young people from Japan to participate in the rebuilding. Another time he sponsored a Silk Road International Seminar in Xi’an that coincided with a ceremony for the restoration of the foundations of the great Tang Dynasty Daminggong Palace. The biting cold that day didn’t keep Hirayama away from delivering a speech from on top of those foundations. He spoke of the importance of these remains, where the leaders of the Tang Empire welcomed the envoys of Japan in their realm, thus allowing the Japanese travelers to absorb advanced knowledge to bring back home.
There was hardly ever a day that Hirayama didn’t sketch or paint. I was asked several times to take him to places off the beaten track in the environs of Beijing that still had the feeling of history. One time in 1999, we set out at daybreak to go west of the city for about an hour’s drive to the Yunjusi Temple, famous for its hidden underground library of Buddhist sutras carved in stone for posterity. He didn’t linger too long before he brought out his folded chair, colored pencil box and sketchbook. His focus was an 11th c. pagoda, the only remaining structure not bombed by Japanese troops in the war. Another time I took him around was when he was passing through Beijing on a return trip from North Korea where he had been lobbying for the protection of the Koguryo Mural Tombs. This time I took him east of the city where the Grand Canal reaches its northern terminus in Tongxian. Again, a thousand year pagoda took on the mantle of the area’s long history. The angle was important. He walked around until he settled on a spot where the pagoda’s reflections rippled in the canal before it. Out came the folding chair, the colored pencil box and the sketchbook. Despite a throng of young children crowding around him, he kept a deep concentration until the sketch was complete. Then with a broad smile, he greeted the children and showed them his work and pointed to the pagoda. Without language, he was teaching them the technique of his art, the capturing of the essence of your visual impression. I often remember the warm encounter he had with those children that day.
When with great sadness I visited his atelier last December a week after he died to say my farewell, I noticed his unfinished work on the Heijokyo capital intended for this year’s celebration on Nara’s 1300th anniversary. Small sketches were attached to the giant canvass. It was possible to visualize what would have been the whole image. It was a grand view of the exciting city at the time when the many cultures of China and beyond made their strong impact on Japan. Like his other great paintings, it was a Silk Road scene imbued with a message for peace. This, I believe, was his greatest legacy, living the way of peace with a wide vision and goodness of heart.