Cicada

A single cicada rests against the ridged bark of a tree, so small and still that your eye may pass right over it before settling. Above, the broad green leaves of a horse chestnut spread out in fans, their veins traced with fine, patient lines. This love of noticing something tiny in the middle of nature runs deep in Japanese painting, where a modest insect is treated as worthy of just as much care as a grand mountain or river.

Omoda Seiju created this piece in 1910, and he chose his subject well. The cicada is tied to summer in Japan, its buzzing song filling the hot months, and because it spends years underground only to live briefly once it emerges, it became a quiet symbol of how short life can be. Seiju leaves most of the paper bare, so nothing competes with that little creature on the trunk. The muted colors and soft strokes lend the whole scene a hushed, drowsy mood, much like a still afternoon in the heat of summer.