De rand van de Shinobazu vijver tijdens een mistige avond. 1932

Kasamatsu Shirô made this print of the Shinobazu pond on a misty evening, but I don’t know when exactly. It's all about the atmosphere; he gets it by layering blues and grays. The paper itself feels part of the process; it’s not trying to hide. Look at the way the lamplight glows on the water - Shirô’s really working with a sense of light as something physical, something you could almost reach out and touch. He lets the ink run in places; it gives a softness, like everything’s breathing. The bare branches are so delicate, it feels like you could snap them with your fingers. It's a testament to how a limited palette can evoke such depth. Shirô makes me think of Whistler, with his moody nocturnes. Both artists aren't just showing you a place; they're inviting you into a feeling. There's a quietness in this pond that sticks with you. Art that does that is always a good thing in my book.