THE JAPANESE often refer to the calligraphy and paintings of Zen monks as Bokuseki (ink traces).  And that is just what they are:  traces left in ink that somehow capture the spirit and Zen realization of monks who painted them, won after long years of rigorous training.

It is perhaps for this reason that these paintings, although seldom “pretty” in decorative sense, have a haunting intensity, even when they are amusing, that I have not found in any other school of painting. 

Forgeries of Zen paintings are not quite the problem that forgeries are with some other types of painting.  Until recently Zen paintings have not been widely collected, so from a monetary standpoint the reward for the forger was not that great.  This is not to say, however, that they have not been copied.  Indeed, there are many fakes.  Since Hakuin (1685-1768) was the most famous of the Zen artists, and therefore the most likely to be copied, I will use one of his genuine works as an example of the system I use for authentication.

Three seals of Hakuin

In determining the authenticity of a Zen painting, the two main factors I take into consideration are the seals and the brushwork. Zen monks often imprinted three seals on a painting, although sometimes fewer, more, or no seals at all are used.  Seals are considered as valuable as a signature, and are often, as in this example, used in their place.  Since it is obvious that counterfeit seals completely invalidate a painting, we will take those into consideration first. Whenever possible I have found it advisable to have at least two actual size photographs of each seal for comparison, as there may be legitimate differences due to thickness of various inks as well as wear and tear on the seal itself.

What I look for are slight discrepancies in the proportion of the lines within the seal, and the lack of characteristic indentations in the outline.

To complicate matters further it should be noted that throughout his painting career, a Zen monk may have used many different seals (Hakuin, for example, used about forty), some of which had only minor differences.  So it is important to have photographs as well of every seal an artist was known to have used.  Then, if a variant is found, a mistake in judgment is less likely to be made.

Since few examples of seals are published, I have found it invaluable to photograph and catalogue Zen monks’ seals in order to build a backlog of information that will be available when needed.

Before assuming that a seal I have not seen before is genuine, I consider whether the other seals on the painting are authenticated examples.  If even one is absolutely correct, it validates the others, which, through further study, are bound to come up again.  As there are many Zen painters, sometimes all seals on a painting are new to me, and this is one of the reasons I have found it essential to familiarize myself with as many examples as possible of any artist’s brushwork, which changed of course with age and deepening Zen insight.

Even if the brushwork seems completely in accord with the artist’s style, it is still wise to reserve final judgment until the seals in question are found repeatedly on works whose brushwork is beyond reproach.

Naturally, reference books are helpful in determining style, but I have found them only a beginning, so in addition I photograph every Zen painting I can.  (For example, using both these sources, I have been able to gather photographs of over nine hundred examples of Hakuin paintings, both genuine and forged.) Since these artists often painted a particular subject over and over again (perhaps as a meditation to gain a deeper insight into a certain subject, or to comply with a request), when studying a particular Zen painting I gather as many examples of the subject as possible.

Bonseki (A Tray Garden) by Hakuin (1685-1768)

Now we have come to a very important factor:  is the brushwork similar enough to have been made by the same hand?  Keeping in mind that there are natural variations in brushwork due to mood, age, etc., I study all parts of the painting carefully, as a forger may have had the knack of reproducing a certain stroke quite well, but give himself away with some minor detail.  Sometimes it is necessary to come back to a painting many times or get another opinion before I am completely satisfied.

The study of brushwork and style is very important for another reason as well.  Sometimes artists were known to lend their seals—so even if the seal is genuine, we cannot be certain the work itself is genuine without carefully studying the brushwork.

For further evaluation the following must be taken into consideration:

1)  Is it a good example of this subject? How does the overall composition compare? (Even master calligraphers had their off-days and were capable of producing quite mediocre work.)

2)  Is the poem the same on all of the gathered works? Since Hakuin and other Zen monks often used the same poem for each subject, a variation here is not necessarily bad; in fact it can be quite good, as rarity naturally increases the value.

3)  How does the ink tone compare? If it is gray rather than black, was it deliberate on the artist’s part, or has the ink faded from being washed in repeated remountings?

4)  Does the paper or silk on which the painting was done have some age? Are there crack lines, or worm-holes? Can it be repaired? Sometimes an excellent mounter can work a seeming miracle.  It should be noted that Zen paintings are not usually found in good condition.  They were almost always given to other monks or ordinary people, and so did not have the care lavished on them as did works commissioned by the wealthy from professional artists.  So the usual standards of painting condition cannot be applied in this case.  There is, however, the occasional exception, and it is thrilling to find such a piece.

5)  Is the size either unusually large or small for the subject? If the measurements of comparison works are not available, a good estimate can be made from the size of the seals relative to the overall size of the subject.  An unusual size can make a work of greater interest.

6)  Does it seem to have been cut down? This can be ascertained by comparing the composition and the nearness of seals to the edges of the paper.

7)  How rare is the subject? This is a further reason I find it important to have photographs of as many examples as possible of a monk’s works. Of course, something rare and wonderful is quite capable of turning up at any time.

8)  To me, the last and probably most important factor is what is the overall feeling of this painting? Do you like it? If it does not draw you in some important and indefinable way, then no matter how good it is, it is just not your painting.  In my opinion, collecting is also a creative act.  Taste is expressed by the painter through his brushwork and composition, and by the collector through what he chooses to add to his collection.  It is part of the sum total of a person’s experiences, values, and who he or she is as a unique example of the human race.

The box in which the painting is kept.

After having thoroughly studied the work itself, we should have a look at the wooden box in which it is usually stored when not displayed.  These boxes are not always signed, but if they are they can add a lot of interest to a piece.  Bokuseki boxes were almost never signed by the artists themselves.  Sometimes they were signed by former owners, who for reasons already explained were seldom famous collectors.  Nevertheless, this can add a sense of history to a painting. Boxes are also signed by "experts": specialists in Zen paintings, museum curators, other Zen monks, etc. In this case the box is intended as a guarantee of its contents.  Although this is an interesting theory, I find that it must be taken with a grain of salt.  At some point the box may have been separated from its original contents and another painting substituted.  Even if the connoisseurship of the person signing the box is excellent, it is always possible that the signer was more concerned about the feelings of the owner than his own reputation as an expert.  Taking these things into consideration, I regard an interesting box as just that, and not an absolute guarantee of the contents.

If signed, the box usually has the subject and artist on the outside cover, and the name of the signer and sometimes the date of the signing on the inside cover.

The box in which this painting is kept is signed; the outside cover reads, Zen Master Hakuin, Bokuseki (ink traces) Ishiyamadera, Bon san wa (the first line of the poem in this painting).  On the inside we are informed that this box was signed by Sokaku at the age of 82, January 16th, 1973.  As Sokaku was formerly head priest of Shoin-ji, the temple where Hakuin was initiated and spent most of his life, the box does add an appealing sense of historical continuity to this painting.

Naturally every serious student of Bokuseki has developed his own particular method for authentication; however, the procedure I have described has worked quite well for me.  I am finding that the more I study Zen works, and the lives and circumstances of the monks who made them, the more fascinated I become, and know that I have only begun truly to understand their deeper meanings.