Butterflies 1934

Fujishima Takeji made this work with ink on paper; the date is unknown. There is such a sense of immediacy here. The butterflies aren’t overworked; they feel captured in a moment. The brushstrokes vary in pressure, creating depth with such a limited palette. The largest butterfly commands our attention, poised as if caught mid-flight, while two smaller companions flutter nearby, fainter, like afterthoughts. I’m drawn to the ink’s texture, how it pools and diffuses on the paper, creating both sharp definition and soft edges. See how the body of the largest butterfly is rendered with a darker, more saturated ink, giving it weight and presence. Then, the wings thin out; a delicate network of veins is visible, barely there, but essential. This piece reminds me a bit of the work of Cy Twombly; that ability to suggest so much with so little, finding a balance between representation and pure gesture. Art like this makes you think about the beauty of impermanence and the fleeting nature of life.