Three Fishes and a Branch 1890 - 1892

Curator: Here we have “Three Fishes and a Branch,” a watercolor made by Seki Shūkō sometime between 1890 and 1892. It currently resides at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Editor: I have to say, my immediate feeling is… melancholy? The muted tones and the slightly forlorn expressions of the fish, it feels like a poem about isolation. Curator: It’s a striking piece, in terms of composition, certainly. Note the way the bodies of the fish intertwine around the branch; almost like a Mobius strip. Editor: Right! It's a clever configuration, but it does heighten that feeling of being caught or trapped, wouldn't you agree? It almost looks as though they're speared on that branch! Curator: Fish, especially in East Asian art, are rich in symbolism. They can represent abundance, freedom, but also the cyclical nature of life and death. Editor: Freedom, huh? They look pretty stuck to me. That said, it really is exquisitely executed. The transparency of the watercolor lends an almost ethereal quality to their scales. Like fleeting thoughts... slippery customers, these ideas! Curator: Well, consider that the artist, Seki Shūkō, lived during a period of immense change in Japan, a period that saw rapid modernization alongside a yearning for traditional values. Maybe the fish represent that tension. Editor: Ooh, I like that reading! Maybe they’re longing for some watery idyll, some primordial ocean before… forks. Is it too much of a reach to imagine it’s speaking to those universal feelings about progress? Is progress worth the price? Do we trade natural splendor for comfort? And if so… can we paint it? Curator: That interplay, the yearning for something lost and the inevitable march forward. I think that resonance might just be the enduring appeal. Editor: Maybe. Or maybe they're just sad about that branch, but your insights offer quite some food for thought - pun very much intended. Thanks!