Probably everyone acquainted with Japanese art knows the two most famous anecdotes about the creation of painting. In the first, a master vexed by his student’s inability to depict a bamboo enjoins him to “become a bamboo.” No doubt apocryphal, there is nevertheless more than a grain in truth here, and this story constitutes one of the dominant myths of art production all across East Asia. This strain of thought is associated with the nanga (literati) movement, which held that there was little of value to be gleaned in the studio. Rather, aspirants should look about them and study, or, in the pithy formulation of Dong Qichang, they should “travel one thousand miles and read ten thousand books.” This credo was jokingly taken by Ike Taiga in a signature: “I’ve managed the thousand miles, but not yet read ten thousand books.” To this anecdote, which so neatly prioritizes the experiential path of the student, assisted only by nature and antiquity, can be added another. The second tale has it that a fire once broke out in a painting master’s house and destroyed his copybooks. Without them, he could no longer function and so gave up his métier for another line...