Ohara Koson made this print of pheasants in snow, sometime before 1945. The way he’s handled the wash of color, the orange and white background, makes it feel like a watercolor. I’m thinking about Koson, and wondering if he felt like he was treading on thin ice trying to evoke so much with so little. The negative space around the birds feels really important, making the eye focus on the texture of the feathers and how the dark outlines contrast with the delicacy of the background. I imagine him working with a brush loaded with pigment, then barely touching the surface to make these wispy impressions of the falling snow. The pheasant's footprints tell a story of movement, of searching for something under the snow. I love how the two birds appear to be in conversation, or maybe just coexisting in the quiet cold. When I look at this print, I feel like I'm part of a larger conversation that started long ago and is still continuing.
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