About a month ago at Tokyo's Shugoarts, photographer Yasumasa Morimura gave a performance in which he coopted the speech author Yukio Mishima gave from the balcony of the Self-Defense Force headquarters in Tokyo in 1970 before committing ritual seppuku inside the building. In his performance, Morimura repurposed Mishima's manifesto as a call for Japanese artists to return to Japanese culture.

This is a little surprising coming from Morimura, who made his name by inserting himself into familiar Western works of art. But there already are a group of Japanese artists recognized for revitalizing the nihonga tradition first defined in the late Edo Period (1603-1867) in order to differentiate Japanese painting from Western styles, or yoga. Loosely grouping Hisashi Tenmyouya, Kumi Machida, Keizaburo Okamura and Fukuyo Matsui, they have brought back either traditional Japanese subject matter, traditional ink-painting techniques or a recognizably Japanese aesthetic. This approach to contemporary painting has been called shin nihonga, or, by Martin Webb on this page, jidaimono -- "next generation things."

One artist who rests near one side of the rough grouping is Akira Yamaguchi, a painter in his mid-30s who went to school with the controversial artist Makoto Aida at the Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music. Yamaguchi's paintings mix traditional Japanese scenes and subjects with a modern sensibility that sometimes features strange hybrids of animals and machines.

At his latest exhibition at the Mizuma Art Gallery in Naka-Meguro, "Lagrange Point," Yamaguchi presents what amounts to two very different shows. On the fifth floor are 10 paintings of almost lifesize warriors and kings fashioned after temple paintings. Though different in subject matter from his earlier works, Yamaguchi's skill with paint, eye for composition and mixture of jarring elements are all in evidence. In several, subtle mechanical additions -- or less subtle ones, such as a machine gun -- adorn the classical outfits of those portrayed.

The paintings are so faithful to the original inspirations, though, that both the religious subjects and the modern technological flourishes end up as visual shorthand; the one points to a style of art that is almost difficult to consciously process as it has become so familiar in its religious uses, the other creeps too far into the world of sci-fi -- a Western equivalent might be like seeing a portrait of King Arthur with a light saber. Pretty cool, maybe, for a movie.

Yamaguchi's use of paint has changed, and it is stunning. Predominantly starkly white, the series "Shitenno (Four Heavenly Kings)" is accentuated with pale washes of mixed colors and occasional shocks of brightness. The result is a soft, weathered look that does suggest an update to the real thing.

Downstairs on the second floor is a completely different world. Mizuma's interior has been subdivided into a clean white warren, and an installation of Yamaguchi's work has been tucked into a small alcove that can only be viewed one at a time through a white veil. Upon popping your head into the space, you are confronted by an army of ancient warriors that appear to wait for your command. They stretch on the wall all the way to the horizon while several rows of painted cutouts stand upright in front of them. They gaze without threat, indirectly away from you, but there is tension in the air, and the seeming infinitude of the troops is breathtaking. Strange thoughts could go through your head presented with this imaginary tableaux -- power, destruction, mortality, destiny. It's a great direction for the artist to go. The subjects are untouched by modern elements, and the use of three dimensions in the venue -- excellently executed -- makes for a powerful piece. Let's hope he continues to use this kind of space.

If the jidaimono artists exploring Japan's culture for art -- rather than joining international contemporary trends -- want to create something Japanese, it's probably best if they turn their backs on the shock of mixing images of the old world/Japan with the new world/the West. An introduction to a recent article by Jill Conner in the new-art collectors' magazine Whitewall says, "Young [Japanese] artists impart their personal desires while drawing equally from Shinto mythology, Taoist roots, and Buddhist beliefs to create compelling visual fantasies that flirt madly with every Westerner's inner child."

If that is why they are doing this kind of work, they are selling themselves to the West to fulfill its fantasy of what Japan is -- and perhaps Morimura has a point.