During the past 130 years or so following the Meiji Restoration, many industrialists are remembered not only for having made huge fortunes, but also for using part of their riches to amass collections of art.

Such collections were typically formed through the passion of an individual and so reflect a certain taste and personality. Following the death of a collector, the family heirs' lack of interest, coupled with tax concerns, has usually led to most major collections being either dispersed on the art market, or protected under the umbrella of a foundation that places them in a museum open to the public.

One of the most well-known of such organizations in Japan, the Ishibashi Foundation, is now celebrating its 50th anniversary with a special exhibition at its own Bridgestone Museum of Art in downtown Tokyo. The core of the collection was accumulated by Shojiro Ishibashi (1889-1976), founder of the tire-manufacturing Bridgestone Corporation, and was subsequently expanded by donations from other family members. The foundation is currently showing over 250 masterpieces selected from the more than 2,400 works of art that comprise the collection.

The exhibition's intriguing title, "From Sesshu to Pollock," suggests some sort of theme linking Muromachi-period ink painting with the New York expressionists. But the range of art shown is actually far more all-inclusive, extending to archaeological objects from Greece, Rome, Egypt and Sumer, antique Japanese and Chinese paintings, ceramics and lacquer, together with mostly modern works by Japanese and Western artists.

Many famous 19th- and 20th-century Western painters are represented by just one or two examples, and so this section of the exhibition serves as a comprehensive introduction to the various directions taken by artists over the past 130 years. Any temptation to denigrate this as merely a collection of names can be dismissed when one sees the almost overall standard of excellence.

Much of the corpus of paintings is by French, or French-influenced artists, and there are works to be seen by all the well-known names: Corot, Daumier, Millet, Daubigny, Courbet, Boudin -- and the Impressionists Pissarro, Manet, Degas, Sisley, Cezanne, Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, Gauguin and Bonnard.

A self-portrait by Paul Cezanne reveals the artist with a face that looks uncannily Japanese. Maybe it was the light, but then that was just what these artists were trying to capture, in addition to evoking other senses.

For those of us fortunate enough, (well, old enough), to remember the idyll of Europe's countryside before European Economic Community agricultural directives ruined it, these paintings will provide a nexus to delicious memories: drowsy afternoons, buzzing late-summer insects, sunlight banded through slatted blinds, the perfumes of bread, tobacco and warm peaches.

For many, the stimulation of first love will also inevitably come to mind, here to be seen in "Desire," a sexy bronze bas-relief by Aristide Maillol showing a young nude couple, her head turned aside, knee between his well-turned thighs in merely token resistance, his brawny arm seizing her waist, eyes focused with intent. You can almost feel the heat.

More works of the early 20-century German expressionist painters would be expected to compliment these sensual images, but that extraordinary artistic milieu is represented by only one example. George Grosz's 1926 "Promenade" portrays bourgeoisie out for a stroll; smug, well-fed, well-shod and minding their own business. The painting is more figurative than many of the artist's other works, and from the aloof faces, we can sense the near presence of war-wrecked cripples and the dispossessed on Weimar Republic streets, and more than a premonition of what was to follow.

While Western painters were much influenced by Japanese woodblock prints that appeared after trade relations had been established in the mid-19th-century, Japanese artists were soon flocking to study in Paris, then the world's artistic capital. Lacking neither sensitivity nor dexterity, they soon mastered the use of pencil, charcoal, oil and watercolor, and took readily to subjects such as the nudes and still lifes, which had never been much of an aesthetic focus in traditional Japanese painting.

There are works by Asai Chu, Kuroda Seiki, Fujishima Takeji and others showing their interpretation of these new themes, as well as several paintings by Fujita Tsuguharu of his milky ladies and mad cats (see article below).

We don't get that much of the show title's Jackson Pollock, just one smallish (by his standards), swirl of black strokes with a few moon-shaped colors, titled "Number 2." If the canvas was the arena for his explosive energies, he might have been running out of steam a bit in this example -- and the number "2" escaped me.

In contrast, Sesshu (1420-1506?) is represented by a four scroll paintings of seasonal landscapes in black ink -- and just a hint of color -- on silk. Inspired by the dramatic scenery of West Lake in China, and painted when Japan was torn by successive wars, they serve as contemplative portals to an idealized world.

Sesshu's Zen training is apparent in the restraint he used to define the four seasons -- at first sight it is difficult to tell which is which. It takes time to discern and assemble the hints and clues, and that exercise in itself is part of the pleasure.