THE PARADOX OF becoming an artist is that the aspirant has to copy and learn from past and contemporary examples, while seeking an original creative voice. In Japan, there's an additional problem. In their quest to acquire a new vocabulary of expression, many young artists introduce foreign elements into their artwork rather than achieve true originality. Although it creates the required local sensation, such artwork, once introduced to a wider international audience, may end up looking derivative and uninspired. Despite the technical skills and application that Japanese artists have always possessed in abundance, this has been a recurrent problem for the nation's modern art since its inception. It's also a problem that isn't going away, if the derivative mish-mash of art-college styles usually encountered at the annual shows held to introduce fresh art and artists to the public are anything to go by. Tokyo Museum of Contemporary Art's Annual 2006 showcase suggests there may be an antidote to derivativeness. This year, the curators have focused on young contemporary artists working within the framework of Nihonga, a self-consciously nationalistic style of art that arose at the turn of the 20th century as a reaction to the inroads of western art. The exhibition's English subtitle, No Borders, is a sappy appeal to ex-pats; the Japanese title translates as 'From Nihonga to Nihonga', making the curators' intent clearer. Last year's theme was gender; the year before, it was identity, says curator Hiroko Kato. 'We decided to give it a Nihonga theme this time because we thought the works should serve as a new picture of Japan.' Unlike the terms gender and identity, which open up in many directions, Nihonga has a concrete artistic meaning, referring to specific materials, methods, styles and subject matter. This provides consistency and also acts as a kind of screen or filter protecting the artists from being overly derivative. 'The tradition and rules of Nihonga help young artists to focus their creative power,' Kato says. 'By acquiring the technique of Nihonga, they can have another side not biased towards the artistic tendency of Europe and America, so it helps them make unique art.' Nihonga also provides a convenient starting point from which to judge the innovations of the seven artists, aged between 32 and 40, six of whom have graduated from art colleges in Japan. Although the mineral pigments, decorativeness, linear drawing, lyrical expression and use of symbolism associated with Nihonga are all in evidence, the artists also show freedom and imagination in their attempts to catch the contemporary Japanese spirit, especially with regard to subject matter. 'There's no meaning remaining in the old values of kacho fugetsu [flowers and birds, wind and moon],' one of the artists, Natsunosuke Mise, says in the exhibition catalogue. And yet Mise's works - giant, rambling landscapes, doodled in dye, sumi, metal powder, acrylic and whiting on gold leaf decorated paper - display some of the most conventional subject matter, with their constant repetition of the Mount Fuji motif beloved of more traditional Nihonga artists. Artists such as Fuyuko Matsui diverge more strongly from traditional subject matter. With morbid themes and titles such as A Blind Dog (2005) and Nyctalopia (2005), she introduces a gothic horror sensibility to Nihonga that would have its founders spinning in their graves. But although her subject matter is beyond the pale of traditional Nihonga, no artist at this exhibition does more to maintain the techniques and textures of the style. Technically beautiful paintings on silk - mounted on traditional patterned fabric - carry her disturbing images. In Nyctalopia a ghostly, long-haired woman does something nasty to a chicken. Keeping Up the Pureness (2004) shows a naked woman sliced open like a piece of fruit, lying amid the beautifully painted flowers and plants that adorn more conventional Nihonga. Such themes combined with the beauty of their execution create a disturbing but mesmerising effect that approaches Matsui's declared objective of expressing 'a condition that maintains sanity while being close to madness.' Under the domination of the otaku and manga inspirations of Takashi Murakami and Yoshitomo Nara, mainstream contemporary Japanese art can be too cute by half. Nihonga, however, is more sublime and mystical, and acts as a convenient filter against saccharine works. This exhibition delivers art with raw visual and emotional impact. Yuuki Yoshida's giant lacquered panels - the longest one measures more than seven metres - with abstract patterns that seem to reflect scientific processes, are spiritually uplifting. Even those artists who seem attracted by the cuter side of art, such as Akira Nagasawa with his naive animal motifs, benefit from Nihonga's gravitas and dignity - in his case, through the strong textures of the mineral pigments he uses. The same could be said for the surprising and often amusing images of Kumi Machida, which sometimes evoke the world of the otaku, with their mixture of sexuality and artificiality. These works gain artistic dignity from the beautiful kumohada linen paper that Machida uses, as well as her eloquent and flowing brush lines in blue-black sumi. The initial response to The Visitor (2004) or Public Speaking (2005) may be laughter, but as this dissipates, the texture of the paper and the elegance of the lines hold the attention until the image gives off a more melancholy note. The thrill that arises by mixing Nihonga with a contemporary sensibility is evident in Hisashi Tenmyouya's Contemporary Japanese Youth Culture Scroll - Para Para Dancing (Great Empire of Japan) vs. Break Dancing (America) (2001), an ukiyo-e style print in acrylic that presents a face-off between Japanese hip-hop boys and para-para disco girls. Again the effect is humorous, leading to the suspicion that the energy generated by such art may be short-lived. But - as anyone who has peeked in karaoke boxes or passed the mirrored public spaces where wannabe break-dancers bust their moves can confirm - these characters are as much part of Japanese culture as any geisha giggling behind a fluttering sleeve. It's always difficult to express yourself in a foreign language, whether it's linguistic or visual. By reverting to their native tongue, these young artists have gained the fluency to say some interesting things about the modern world. Annual 2006: From Nihonga to Nihonga, Tokyo Museum of Contemporary Art, 4-4-1 Miyoshi, Koutou-ku, Tokyo. Ends Mar 26
