It may be surprising to consider the inherently ephemeral nature of a scroll mounting, considering its direct physical attachment to an artwork and the high value of the materials used. Due to the complex layering structure of support linings and component materials, a Japanese painting—unlike an easel painting—cannot be easily removed from its “frame.” While facilitated by the “reversibility” of materials such as wheat-starch paste, remounting a scroll is an extremely invasive procedure that may involve partial or complete dismantling of the scroll structure, and partial or complete replacement of the mounting materials. This can result in a significantly altered appearance. Mountings and mounting styles are chosen based on a range of factors, including but not limited to the following: artist, subject matter of the artwork, time period, intended display space or ritual function, size and orientation of the composition, and taste and aesthetics of the owner. Modern-day mounters and conservators re-create mountings using combinations of textiles and decorated papers appropriate to specific artworks based on their training and experience. The collective knowledge of the lineage and history of mounting styles is not shared in academic courses, but rather handed down through an apprenticeship training system in conservation studios in Japan. There are very few published resources.¹

Despite the importance given to the selection and connoisseurship of scroll mounting in particular, Japanese standards consider the mounting secondary to the artwork, and require its replacement if it no longer serves the purpose of physically supporting the artwork.² Curators charged with overseeing the conservation of Japanese paintings in Western museum collections, however, are often uncomfortable with the choices that must be made during the repair and remounting process, some of which may drastically change the appearance of an artwork. Many lack knowledge of scroll mounting, and limited institutional resources can result in a scarcity of quality materials from which to choose options, as well as a lack of conservation staff trained in the necessary techniques, aesthetic judgment, and historical knowledge. Interestingly, when faced with these limitations, curatorial staff in Western museums may be more willing than their counterparts in Japan to consider reuse and recycling options over renewal and replacement, and to entertain the nuanced questions regarding these decisions.

A diminutive triptych of silk paintings attributed to Kanō Tan’yū 狩野探幽 (1602–1674) in the MFA collection was contained in a box with an inscription that referred to the particularly fine set of mounting silks on the paintings (fig. 6). The three small, square-shaped paintings depicting peonies and birds flanking the central figure of the Chinese beauty Yang Guifei had been mounted using fine examples of meibutsukire 名物裂 silks, textiles collected and held in high esteem by tea masters and daimyo feudal lords, either directly imported from China or domestically reproduced from historic patterns. Two of the three textile borders were a finely patterned gold brocade in generous proportions, while a faded but high-quality patterned damask silk was used for the third border at the top and bottom. The patterns and combination of silks were similar to mountings used for Higashiyama gyobutsu 東山御物, Chinese art objects and paintings collected and celebrated by the Ashikaga military rulers of the Muromachi period (1336–1573) to elevate their cultural and political status vis-à-vis the imperial court.⁵ As such, the mountings on the Tan’yu triptych were considered appropriate to the Chinese theme of the paintings, created by an artist known for his work decorating castles and reception rooms for the ruling military elite. An inscription on the interior of the lid of the scroll’s box details the types of silk used in the mounting, listing the gold brocade as ko-kinran 古金蘭, or “antique brocade” (fig. 7). The names of the other two types of silk were also included.

Mere mention of the mounting in such an inscription is notable and rare. Referring to the brocades as “old” or “antique” could suggest they were taken from an antique stock of brocade. Alternatively, because of the quantity of fabric needed to mount a suite of paintings, perhaps the fabric had already been reused once before for economical reasons, and the inscription was an acknowledgment of this fact. The overall stable condition of the silks and relative suppleness of the fabric suggested the former, that a quantity of valuable antique fabric was used, and not the latter, a literal reuse of an earlier scroll mounting. This documentation, together with the stable condition of the textiles and the aesthetically appropriate combination justified reusing the entire mounting for the treatment of the triptych. This was done by disassembling the scroll, removing and replacing the inner paper linings, and reassembling the scroll following the same dimensions and proportions. Condition and handling concerns brought on by the reuse of these mounting materials will be mitigated by controlled storage conditions, modified storage apparatus, as well as proper training and awareness on the part of museum staff.

If this triptych were part of a Japanese collection, it is likely that even an important mounting such as this would have been removed from the paintings because of condition concerns, and then stored and documented separately. In order to replicate the look of the earlier mounting, a replacement would have been made using similar types and patterns of newly woven silk. Japanese conservation studios maintain generous stocks of mounting silks, and in most cases are able to select a comparable replacement mounting with ease if a similar look is desired. For these reasons, replacing the mounting with new silks similar in type and appearance to the previous one is the default treatment choice for collections of Japanese art. However, preserving an earlier mounting in situ when possible gives museum visitors and scholars the opportunity to engage directly with the historic materiality of the scrolls, raising awareness of and appreciation for the mounting. The presence and impact of a scroll mounting is largely ignored by museum goers and art historians alike unless they view the painting in person. Exhibition catalogs seldom publish images that include the mounting. In Japanese exhibitions, there are rare occasions when an empty mounting removed in an earlier treatment is displayed alongside a painting in an exhibition, but this is unlikely in a Western setting. Therefore, if an entire mounting is removed and stored separately as archival material, only those with prior knowledge or access to the conservation records would be aware of its existence.

In some cases, reusing the mounting, or even doing nothing, can have broader implications beyond physical condition. The Joseon-era (1392–1910) Falcon on a Perch is one of the most important paintings in the MFA’s Korean collection, brought to Boston with William Sturgis Bigelow’s (1850–1926) collection of Japanese paintings in the early twentieth century (fig. 8). It is mounted in a san-dan hyōgu 三段表具 style, or “three-step mounting,” referring to the three different borders surrounding the painting. This mounting style is said to have its origins in Song-dynasty (960–1279) China, using gold brocades for two of the borders and damask twill silk for the top and bottom sections, and was widely used from the Muromachi period (1336–1573) onward. This mounting configuration came to be referred to as Yamato hyōgu in the nineteenth century, using the term coined at the same time to refer simultaneously to the area around current-day Nara near where the earliest courts were established, to the Japanese people themselves distinct from the myriad other ethnic populations on the archipelago, and to the imperial house of Japan. This renamed style is no longer used on the Chinese mainland, and it is considered today to be distinctly Japanese.⁶ The overall condition and types of silks used for the Korean falcon painting suggest it was mounted in this configuration in the late Edo period, that is, the mid-nineteenth century. The high-quality Japanese textiles are evidence that the painting passed through the hands of a wealthy Japanese collector before being purchased for the MFA by Bigelow around that time. There are no records of how this painting may have appeared prior to entering the MFA’s collection, but one can reasonably assume it would have been mounted in a Korean-style mounting when it traveled to Japan.

By mounting this painting in a distinctly Japanese style with Japanese materials, the previous collector sought to claim ownership of the painting’s aesthetics, and even its culture. Now that Falcon on a Perch resides in a US museum collection and is identified as a Korean painting, displayed in the Arts of Korea gallery, what if anything should be done to address these complex identities? The painting is in stable condition, so it does not physically require conservation treatment for display. But choosing to keep the scroll in its current state is not a neutral decision. Would it be appropriate to work with Korean conservators to determine an appropriate Korean-style mounting, remount the scroll, and preserve the Japanese mount separately as archival material? Should the Japanese-style mounting be reused when the scroll is eventually remounted, to preserve evidence of its provenance and journey through Japan? Current and future decisions regarding the preservation of this painting must consider these important ancillary issues, which go beyond the selection of an aesthetically pleasing configuration of textiles in order to physically preserve and protect the painting.

Decisions involved in selecting a new scroll mounting are highly subjective, in spite of the guidelines discussed earlier and more recent attempts to codify and document the selection process. In reality, there are and were practical limitations to the choices and decisions, and not all mountings have been chosen in a thoughtful, educated manner from an abundance of quality materials. When literal reuse of a mounting is not possible for condition reasons, and the earlier mounting style is considered appropriate, the previous configuration may used as a kind of template to guide the choices for remounting. Textiles, color combinations, and border proportions similar to those of the earlier mounting may be selected using all new materials. Partial replacement of damaged sections and reusing those in better condition is also an option. As mentioned previously, the collections of mounting fragments assembled in kire tekagami albums by feudal lords and tea masters indicate a high level of connoisseurship when preserving these artifacts, and may have indicated the intent to reuse selected examples in subsequent scroll mountings. These samples may also have informed reproductions of the prized textiles, and guided by cultural advisors and tea masters, they have resulted in the many variations of textile patterns that exist today. In modern conservation practice, reproduction of a mounting textile based on an earlier example may be considered when a textile is deemed appropriate and valuable but is not commercially available. “Reproduction” in this context could be considered an interpretation of “recycling,” as a historic textile based on an earlier scroll mounting is revived and reintroduced into the material world.

One such custom-woven reproduction was commissioned for the treatment of a monumental painting of a Butsu Nehan-zu 仏涅槃図 (The death of the Historical Buddha) by Hanabusa Itchō 英一蝶 (1652–1724) (fig. 9). Sections of the earlier mounting were also reused in the conservation treatment. This painting depicts the moment Śākyamuni, the historical Buddha, passes from the temporal realm and enters paranirvana. Depictions of this important event date back centuries, but later interpretations added all manner of living creatures to the usual gathering of mourners surrounding the Buddha’s bier, creating a complex and lively scene. These paintings are used annually in rituals commemorating the day of the Buddha’s death, and are generally quite large. Itcho’s creation, measuring more than 481 by 211 centimeters, is the largest Japanese painting in the MFA collection, but it is in fact smaller than most Nehan-zu in Japanese temple collections. An inscription on the lower roller indicates the year it was painted, 1713, and an inscription on the back records that the scroll was remounted in 1853 (fig. 10). The two inner borders of the mounting were found to be high-quality gold brocades, which despite some fading were both robust and in good condition. However, the outer border, being made of a more delicate satin-weave silk, showed more evidence of damage, due to its exterior placement, larger surface area, and greater burden of supporting the entire structure. Investigation revealed losses that predated the most recent remounting, which suggested that the mounting may have been reused at the time of a treatment in 1853, and therefore was quite possibly original to the painting’s creation. Reuse may have been necessary at the time, given the expense of such a large quantity of mounting silk for a monumental painting. Despite the favorable storage and display conditions that would protect the scroll now housed in a museum collection, the mounting needed to be strong enough to support the weight of the entire scroll when on display, including the heavy wooden roller with incised brass end knobs. Thus, the deteriorated condition of the outer border was of particular concern, despite the assertion that it may have been original to the painting.

The reproduction of a textile requires many thoughtful choices. The weaving was commissioned through one of the few remaining weavers specializing in hōi 法衣 (temple hangings), located in Nishijin, Kyoto. With no existing patterns available, new jacquard pattern cards for the large, detailed peony flowers were reproduced using a section of the previous mounting for reference. The color of the fabric could be achieved either through dyeing the silk threads prior to weaving or overdyeing the woven fabric afterward. The former was chosen because of the resultant depth and richness of color, and because of the practical difficulty of evenly dyeing such a large quantity of silk. But what color to choose? Should the color be based on the current, albeit faded state? Or should the color approximate the “original” color and tone, and what might that have been? Close examination revealed the peony motif would have been a vivid pink color (fig. 11). This colorant was likely benibana 紅花 (safflower), a color known to be extremely light sensitive. The outer border had been dyed with ai 藍 (indigo), and was originally a much deeper blue color. Together with the multicolor gold-brocade inner borders this would have been a vibrant display. Many Buddhist mountings favor vivid colors and combinations of shimmering gold brocade, reflecting their Chinese origins and to show respect and value as devotional objects. This scroll painting, however, was no longer a ritual object, but would be displayed in a museum gallery, under museum lighting and not in a darkened temple lit by candlelight. The new outer border needed to be aesthetically balanced with the faded tones of the other two borders. As a result, the curator agreed to replicate the current faded colors. This required a creative combination of thread colors from the hands of skilled dyers more accustomed to dyeing vivid, evenly toned color combinations. The MFA and weavers exchanged multiple woven samples before reaching consensus on the overall color combination (fig. 12).

Woven reproductions such as the above example are exceptional because of their high cost, but are also a significant contribution to textile preservation through the resurrection of a heretofore lost pattern. The research required to reproduce a historic pattern or source a particular type of silk thread, or the use of natural dyes, are all examples of ways in which Japanese painting conservation contributes to the preservation of materials and to the livelihoods of the craftspeople who produce them.

Condition problems such as creases, soiling, and delamination of the lining papers were enough to justify remounting treatment of Courtesan and Attendant by Miyagawa Chōshun 宮川長春 (1683–1783). Replacement of the mounting was also considered, because although the mounting silks were in fairly good condition, they were of poor quality. Conservators speculated that the painting was likely remounted by a dealer just prior to export from Japan in the early 1900s based on the type of silks and their overall condition (fig. 13a). Although the MFA has built up a significant stock of mounting silks since the early twentieth century, most of the textiles are woven specifically for scroll mounting, by the bolt. A fragment of an eighteenth-century uchikake 打掛け (the outermost garment worn for ceremonial or formal occasions by military-class women) serendipitously purchased at a local estate sale several years earlier provided the opportunity to repurpose a kimono fragment for the most visually impactful section of the scroll, the central border (figs. 14a, b). This treatment benefited from the use of modern technologies such as Photoshop to virtually reconfigure the limited amount of fabric in an efficient but aesthetically pleasing way before physically piecing the limited textiles around the painting (fig. 15). A light-purple gauze-weave silk with a dark-toned lining were added for the top and bottom section, and a finely woven gold brocade for the innermost border and matching futai hanging strips (fig. 13b).

Woman from Ōhara Carrying Bundles of Firewood by Katsushika Hokusai 葛飾北斎 (1760–1849) was remounted using newly woven garment textiles, in a configuration chosen to complement directly the garments worn by the subject of the painting. Woman from Ôhara came into the MFA collection with the bulk of the Japanese collection in the early 1900s, in a late nineteenth-century mounting of borders of gold brocade on a dark blue background degraded from the use of an iron mordant (fig. 16a). Rustic country beauties such as the one represented here were a popular theme in the mid- to late Edo period, and research on similar hanging scroll paintings indicated a preference for mounting fabrics that mirrored the apparel of the figure portrayed. For the MFA painting, a fragment of indigo-dyed plaid-patterned silk was chosen for the central section, and a rough-textured, unpatterned twill-weave silk in a warm beige tone was chosen for the top and bottom sections. An unusual fine-quality printed sarasa cotton chintz was chosen for the ichimonji-futai, a part of the mounting usually reserved for a more valuable textile, due to its proximity to the painting. Elevating the “status” of a cotton chintz by this placement in the mounting over an obviously valuable silk such as a gold brocade may seem to be an unusual choice; however, cotton chintz was known to be a popular and valuable fabric in the Edo period. Originally an exotic import from India, chintz was later in such demand that it was produced in Japan. The fragment used for the MFA’s scroll was sourced from the lining of a sword bag long separated from its object in the MFA’s vaults (fig. 16b). The MFA fragment is thought to be an example of Japanese domestically produced chintz called wa-sarasa (fig. 17).

Changing the format of a painting to suit an alternative display setting is a common reason for remounting. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, many temples in Japan were forced to sell their artworks in order to survive, and two such paintings attributed to Kanō Motonobu 狩野元信 (1476–1559) and thought to be from a subtemple of Daitoku-ji 大徳寺 in Kyoto entered the MFA collection as a pair of hanging scrolls (fig. 18). A majority of Japanese artworks in Japan reside in temple collections, and many of these are integrated into the architecture of buildings themselves in the form of wall paintings or sliding doors. The Motonobu paintings depicting a sweeping landscape scene of Tartars hunting held clues indicating that they were once fusuma 襖. The most obvious clue was evidence of hikite 引手 (door pulls) at opposing vertical edges of the paintings (fig. 19). Other details included the large overall proportions and the type of paper used for the substrate: ganpi maniaishi 雁皮間に合い紙—a soft short-fibered, smooth paper with a clay filler favored for paintings in panel format. Removing and reconfiguring two rigid sliding doors into two hanging scrolls that roll up might seem extreme, but it was not an unusual choice for artworks of this type during this time period. From a practical standpoint, two hanging scrolls, albeit large ones, were easier to transport, ship, and display than two large, flat panels that also require a track system for support. Unfortunately, due to the inherent characteristics of the paper, the substrate immediately developed sharp cracks and creases when rolled. Further, the vertical textile borders of the hanging scroll mounts visually disrupted the continuity of the dynamic hunting scene.

A treatment plan was needed to balance the physical needs of the paintings with their new setting in a museum. Restoring the paintings to a purely fusuma-style mounting would require reopening the holes in the painting in order to accommodate replacement hikite, a customized lacquer trim overlapping at the center vertical edge, and a custom-built track system for display. A compromise was reached whereby the paintings were mounted onto panels built of lattice under-cores with paper support layers, similar in interior structure to all Japanese panel formats but framed with a simple folding screen–style lacquer trim of equal proportions on all four sides that does not require a display track. The hikite were not replaced, but the repaired holes where they had once been inserted were left lightly toned so evidence of their past presence could be discerned with the naked eye. The continuity of the imagery was restored, and the painting was physically stabilized with new paper linings and a flat, rigid support structure (fig. 20).

The storage and display of paintings in sliding-door format poses a challenge to all museums and collectors who lack the traditional architectural framework, even in Japan. The MFA’s Motonobu fusuma paintings are thought to be related to a pair of six-panel folding screens in the Seikado Museum collection in Tokyo, which appear to be a continuation of the same scene. In the Seikado screens, four sliding doors of wider dimensions than the MFA paintings have been divided across twelve screen panels, with gold-toned papers balancing out the edges to accommodate standard proportions of a folding screen (figs. 21, 22). In spite of the dramatic division of the original, wider panels, the folding-screen format is a practical choice: screens may be displayed freestanding and fold up compactly for storage. As a result, it seems unlikely that the Seikado paintings would be returned to a fusuma format, even a modified one such as the MFA example.

The importance of material culture is at the heart of the concept of reuse and recycling in Japanese painting conservation. Reuse of materials may be literal, as in the case of a scroll mounting or a garment fragment; or more conceptual, whereby a scroll mounting uses materials similar to those depicted in the artwork. Modern resources may enable the full-scale reproduction of materials no longer available and result in the “resurrection” of a long-lost textile or textile pattern. Awareness of the structure of Japanese painting formats, the many decisions that have shaped their dynamic lives, and the implications of the changes that occur enables a deeper understanding of these beautiful and multifaceted works.