The image shows Kayo Aoyama's "LEMON AND FIELD PEAS," featuring both animals and plants.
At our shop, artworks depicting animals and plants are frequently chosen. It's curious how these two motifs consistently attract people, even though everyone's lifestyle and preferences for decorating must be different.
Of course, one reason is that our posters are small and easy to incorporate into a room. Since they don't take up a large, prime space on the wall, they're easy to try out, easy to swap seasonally, and easy to arrange multiple pieces to create a rhythm on the wall. This "ease of entry" certainly encourages people to buy their first piece.
However, there's more to it than just that.
Even among small posters, I believe paintings of animals and plants have a different kind of approachability compared to other motifs. Abstract paintings have their own charm, and landscape paintings offer a sense of expanse. But flowers, birds, and animals don't demand too much knowledge from the viewer. They can be perceived simply as "being there" or "blooming there." Perhaps this eases some of the hesitation before decorating.
So, why are we drawn to paintings of animals and plants?
Catches the eye, relaxes the mind
Animal paintings immediately catch the eye.
Birds, cats, dogs, deer, squirrels. Regardless of how they are depicted, the mere presence of an animal creates a subtle sense of presence in the painting. Sometimes they seem to be looking at us, other times they appear to be unaware of us, simply standing there. This sense of distance brings a touch of intimacy to the room.
Paintings with human faces can sometimes feel a bit intense depending on where they are displayed. But with animals, even if there's eye contact, there's less of a sense of pressure. Beyond cuteness, there's a slightly whimsical feel, a quiet companionship, or a sense of freedom. I believe this range of interpretations makes them easier to integrate into daily life.
Ado's work "White Cat at Home"
Plants, on the other hand, have a more gentle effect.
Flowers and branches gently soften the straight lines and hardness of an interior without being overly assertive. Furniture, walls, window frames, shelves – homes often have many straight lines. When the curves of leaves and the shapes of flowers are introduced, the atmosphere of the space softens slightly. Unlike placing real plants, there's no need for watering or sunlight. Yet, having something close to nature in view changes the impression of the room.
Ichiyanagi's work "COREOPSIS (Yellow)"
Regarding the human tendency to be attracted to nature and living things, there is a concept called "biophilia." This view suggests that humans have an innate tendency to connect with nature and life. Of course, displaying a single painting won't dramatically change one's life. However, the background to why many people feel a sense of relief or approachability when they see paintings of animals and plants might be related to this very sensation.
What's important here isn't that the painting is "useful."
A painting is not a convenient tool. However, when it briefly catches your eye in daily life, it can subtly shift your mood. Animals bring intimacy, and plants provide space for breathing. Both blend into the room without imposing explanations. That's why I think they are often chosen.
Is this phenomenon unique to Japan?
In conclusion, this tendency is not unique to Japan. The preference for natural motifs seems to be somewhat universal across cultures.
However, the "reading" of nature is not the same, even if it's the same nature. This is what's interesting.
In Japan, nature has often been discussed in connection with seasons and transience. As symbolized by terms like "Kachofugetsu" (flowers, birds, wind, moon) and "Setsugekka" (snow, moon, flowers), nature is not merely an object but also a carrier of the flow of time. Cherry blossoms are not just flowers, but also evoke the brevity of spring. The moon is part of the landscape, but also reflects the heart of the person looking up at it. We have always read the signs of the seasons in the songs of birds and the changes in plants.
Japanese aesthetics are rooted in a sensitivity that values transience, ephemerality, and empathy for things that pass. The beauty of nature is not just its vividness, but it is perceived more deeply by the presence of the ebb and flow of time within it. Considering this, the appeal of botanical art lies more in the atmosphere around the flowers than in the mere depiction of flowers. Our hearts are moved not only by the moment they are in full bloom, but also by their budding and fading. Birds, too, are sometimes placed not as protagonists of a story, but as part of the sounds and scenery of the season. Nature creates a gentle depth within the room.
Meanwhile, in European art, there's a context where natural objects have been interpreted as symbols and linked to cultural life.
For example, still-life paintings in 17th-century Dutch and Flemish art depict flowers, fruits, vessels, game, shells, and musical instruments with incredible detail. These weren't merely arranged as "beautiful things"; they sometimes signified wealth, education, trade, time, and views on life and death. Flowers, while beautiful, eventually wither. Fruits, while representing abundance, spoil if they become too ripe. Natural objects served as motifs that simultaneously spoke of the richness of life and the limits of time.
Even with the same nature, in Japan it tends to be perceived as something that dissolves into transience, while in European art it tends to emerge as a symbol. While this is just one perspective, thinking this way reveals cultural differences in the act of decorating a room with animal and plant paintings.
Perhaps animal and plant paintings blend easily into Japanese rooms because there's a sensibility that perceives nature not just as "something to observe," but also in conjunction with the seasons and moods. The deep familiarity of natural motifs in European interior design might be because natural objects have long held meaning within the history of daily life and decorative culture.
A small piece becomes a gateway to nature
Considering all this, our small-sized items begin to look a little different.
It's not just that they are chosen because they are small. The small size perfectly aligns with the inherent approachability that animals and plants possess. That's why I think they easily reach people who aren't yet in the habit of decorating.
Large artworks have the power to instantly transform the impression of a space. Small artworks, on the other hand, have the advantage of naturally blending into daily life. They can be propped up on a shelf, placed near a desk, or displayed by the entryway. They can be changed with the seasons. Several can be arranged together, enjoyed like a small garden of favorite motifs. This lightness is a charm unique to small posters.
In busy everyday life, what we seek from a painting is often not a grand statement, but rather a subtle sense of order. There are days when the presence of an animal offers solace. There are days when the gentleness of a plant brings comfort. The birds and flowers in a painting don't directly change our real lives. Nevertheless, each time they catch our eye, our mood shifts ever so slightly. The atmosphere of the room softens just a bit.
As an entry point, animals and plants are incredibly powerful motifs. They are familiar and easy to interpret, yet delving deeper into their meaning connects us to cultural and historical views of nature. Perhaps that is where the depth of these motifs lies.
Works like Rieko Oka's "Bird Garden," which depict both birds and plants in the same frame, offer the appeal of both. The familiarity of living creatures and the serenity of plants. Rather than one or the other, the overlap of the two creates a small natural space within the room.
That might be why we are drawn to paintings of animals and plants.
It's one of the most accessible entry points to art. And at the same time, I believe it is somehow connected to the gaze that people across countries and eras have directed towards nature.
出典
Britannica「Biophilia hypothesis」
Britannica「Aesthetics - Japanese Art, Culture, Philosophy」
The Metropolitan Museum of Art「Still-Life Painting in Northern Europe, 1600–1800」
Guggenheim Museum Bilbao「Still Life」
